#or offer some casual snark

[smolcrow465]

yippee! old summer dreams drawing I had stashed somewhere <3

this is one of my favorite silly parts of the au-- Matt's dad ends up partnered with Wizardmon, who eventually does revive & reuinite with everyone :] bringing him to the radio tower ends up with many shenanigans <3

[glasvera]

Stoicism and Gratuity

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher

Description: You're always healing them so that they can let loose on the battlefield. Now it's your turn to let them do the work.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, clothed sex, minor mentions of alcohol, Bucky's arm tentacles, choking, spanking, rough sex, threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, light bondage??? if you count the tentacles?, Frank's kind of an ass but means well, one (1) terrible pun

A/N: Fulfilling a request for Bucky or Frank wasn't something I ever thought I'd do, but my interest was piqued and I decided to give it a shot. And then it turned into a light novel. Also... gods it feels SO weird calling him Frank.

Word Count: 5k

When Frank and Bucky invited you over, you thought it was just a casual meet up between colleagues, no, friends to enjoy what little downtime you had between missions. Order some take out, maybe drink a few beers… you know the drill. 

Even so, you couldn't help taking the chance to dress up a little bit. It was so rare that you got out (outside of work, at least) so you tended to go a little over the top when the opportunities presented themselves. Surely you couldn't go wrong with a cute dress and tights. 

Plus, who doesn't want to look this good in front of two absolutely gorgeous men?

It was hard enough that you were attracted to both of them. Flirting with one felt like some unspoken betrayal to the other, so you usually just tried to push those feelings down. But you weren't blind; unlike their more practical clothing and tactical gear, your hero suit hugged you in all the right places, and you had caught them both staring multiple times. You'd even teased them on more than one occasion about finding better partners if they were going to keep getting distracted on the job.

So why not throw caution to the wind while you can and give them a little more to look at?

Despite your original confidence, when you rap your knuckles on the door to Frank's apartment, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies that burst forth in your stomach. What if your neckline plunged too low? What if they got the wrong (right?) idea about you from the fishnets that hug your hips just as tightly as the skirt of your dress?

You're unable to dwell on those thoughts for long before the door opens, and you're face to face with Bucky in a wife beater and joggers. His calm and collected demeanor slips for just a second, and his eyes are devouring your figure before he realizes what he's doing. He clears his throat and presses his lips shut into a thin line.

“Y/N. Good. You made it.” He blinks, scratching the back of his head with his organic arm, and steps back to allow you inside. “You… You look good,” he adds with a curt nod.

“Close the damn door. Air conditioning isn’t cheap, you know,” you hear Frank’s gruff voice call out from further in.

“I’m offering good company for free. Think that’ll cover it?” you retort with a cheeky smile as you round the corner into the living room, your heels clacking on the wooden floors.

To his credit, Frank doesn’t even try to hide the once-over he gives you. All you get in return is an amused snort. He looks good, you think, in a simple t-shirt and jeans. The denim has a few oil stains and the shirt is probably a size too small, but it suits him. You certainly can't complain about being able to see his strong physique on full display. Honestly, the two of them just look the same as they usually do minus all the extra equipment. Now you really feel overdressed. 

“You heading out to the club after this or something?” Frank quips while gesturing to your outfit.

Before you get the chance to be terribly embarrassed or even defend yourself, Bucky returns the Punisher's snark. “She can dress how she wants, old-timer. And don't think I missed the way you looked at her.”

You flash Bucky a smile of thanks. Frank grumbles something about being called “old-timer” by the guy who's older than him, but otherwise drops it. Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a minute, followed soon after by the sounds of bottles clinking in the opened fridge. 

Frank pats the seat next to him. Once you oblige, sinking into the poor, abused couch that threatens to swallow you whole in its cushions, he heaves a big sigh.

“You do look good. Just had to tease you,” he explains himself before Bucky reappears behind you with three beers in hand. “But Winter Princess over here had to get his panties in a knot over it,” he adds with a pointed smirk.

“If this weren't your place, I might smash this bottle over your head,” Bucky taunts back even as he hands him one.

He vaults over the back of the couch, throwing himself back into the cushions without much grace and landing next to you with an audible oomph. It launches you up a little in your seat. That, coupled with their banter, draws a lilting giggle from your lips. Bucky shoots you the softest of smiles. Ah… you were wondering when the butterflies in your stomach were coming back. 

He hands you the last beer, and you see the metal plates of his arm open and shift about before a tentacle reaches out and pops the cap off for you.

“Nice Swiss Arm-y Tool you got there,” you can't help but say with a shit-eating grin as you catch the cap in your other hand. Frank snorts again and Bucky sighs, losing his smile immediately and shutting his eyes.

“I will take yours back,” he threatens half-heartedly.

The tentacle that slithered about after opening the bottle lingers for a moment, and you pull back with a start when the cold appendage brushes against your wrist. Bucky's eyes widen and he quickly withdraws, metal clanking and shrieking against itself as he returns his arm to its usual state.

“Sorry. They have a mind of their own sometimes. Been meaning to see Shuri about that,” he explains apologetically. He can’t seem to look you in the eye.

“I-It’s okay,” you manage to eke out, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where it had touched you. You knew about them, fighting with him as you so often did, but that was the first time you'd felt them. It was so alien, and you shudder at the thought of what they could have been if Hydra had their way.

“And I thought I was a buzzkill,” Frank finally chimes in as he starts flicking through channels with the TV remote. It earns him a glare from Bucky, but he ignores it. He settles on some random sci-fi movie for background noise before setting the remote onto the arm of the couch. That'll probably get lost between the cushions later.

Despite his intent, you find yourself trying to focus on what's on the screen instead of the awkward silence building between you three. You hadn’t seen Fifth Element in ages. Trying (and failing) to ease your nerves, you lean back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you take a swig of beer. Eugh. Frank definitely wasn't breaking the bank for this brand.

After a little while, you all settle into what is at least a slightly more comfortable silence. Fifth Element just has a way of bringing people together, you suppose. Bucky props a foot up on one knee, and you don't miss the way he rests his mechanical arm on the back of the couch behind you. Frank leans forward and leans his elbows on his thighs, and his repositioning leaves his leg pressing against yours. The scratchy denim catches a bit on your fishnets, and even through the thick fabric you can feel the heat of his skin.

It continues like that for several minutes. Your eyes, as discreetly as you can manage, keep finding their way to the men on either side of you. You notice the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the way his shoulder muscles twitch every once in a while when he adjusts his metallic arm. You see Frank's fingers tense a bit around the neck of the bottle he holds, and suddenly a part of you wonders how those fingers would feel around your own neck…

Korben Dallas and Leeloo just aren't capturing your attention anymore.

“Met Bruce Willis once. Weird guy,” Frank suddenly pipes up. It takes you by surprise and you actually jump in your seat, granting you raised eyebrows from both of them.

“You okay, Y/N?” Bucky asks as he turns his body to face you better.

Warmth rushes to your face. “I-I'm fine! I don't know why that startled me. Guess I was just lost in the movie,” you lie as you run a nervous hand through your hair.

Frank places a hand on your bare shoulder and squeezes a bit. His palm is searing, no, branding on your skin, the ghost of it lingering even when he pulls away.

“You're tense, doll face. Somethin’ the matter?” he asks.

“Probably working too hard. Come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen Y/N outside of work,” Bucky comments with a hint of genuine concern. His metal hand finds the back of your neck and massages it gently, and you feel your face flush even more at the sudden contact. “You can loosen up, you know,” he teases.

It does feel nice, you can't deny that.

“Yeah… loosen up…” you murmur, trying to sound thoughtful. Your head bobs a bit as Bucky continues, and you see a slight smile return to his face.

You can also feel the tension in the room shift… but you don’t see the way Bucky and Frank look at each other as your eyes flutter close. A wordless exchange occurs between them unbeknownst to you, and they both nod in agreement.

It was something they’d discussed before, after all.

“You’re always taking care of us, you know. And I don’t just mean on the battlefield,” Bucky mutters in your ear. When had he gotten that close? “You’re always checking up on us, calling or texting us to see if we’re doing okay…”

“We invited you over to let loose, sweetheart. And you’re not doing a very good job of it yet,” Frank adds gruffly.

“I… I’m sorry?” you finally respond with a slight laugh in your voice. You’re not sure if you should apologize or not, really. 

“Maybe you should be,” Frank grunts as his hand rests on your knee.

Bucky chuckles. “Don’t be sorry.” He’s practically leaning into you now, and you can feel his breath on your ear. It sends shivers across your skin. “Just let us take care of you… if you want us to, of course,” he adds.

“What is…?” You want to say “happening,” but words seem to fail you when Frank cups your jaw and forces him to look at you.

“I said you looked good. But I think you’d look even better without that get-up,” he almost growls. His eyes are dark with something you’ve never seen in him before, and a shuddered breath slips from your lips.

“O-Oh…”

It’s all you can muster.

But that’s all it takes.

You don’t have to wonder what Frank’s fingers feel like on your neck anymore as he grabs the back of your head and tugs you into a possessive, devouring kiss. His lips are rough, a bit chapped, but that doesn’t matter when his tongue delves eagerly into your mouth. The hand on your knee grips you harder.

“Should have known you’d be the impatient one,” Bucky chides before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. The stubble on his chin scratches against your skin in the best way. A broken moan gurgles in your throat.

Well. This was not how you were expecting the night to go at all.

You hear metallic tings and clangs behind you, and that’s all the warning you have before tentacles are slithering down your back and sides. It’s a little cold and it certainly catches you by surprise, but the way they slip under your dress is undeniably erotic. Bucky freezes. Ah, so he hadn’t meant to do that.

Breathing heavily, you break the kiss with Castle to face Bucky with lust-darkened eyes. “N-No… it’s okay,” you breathe. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head, but once his eyes flicker down to your panting and kiss-bruised lips, desire wins over. He nods, dumbfounded, before claiming his own turn at kissing you.

Frank, a bit perturbed at having his make out session interrupted, takes out his frustrations on the opposite side of your neck. Where Bucky was passionate and intense, Frank is angry, biting hard and sucking dark hickies into your skin. If you were standing, you know your knees would be wobbling. His hand travels higher, roughly massaging your inner thigh with callused fingers.

Tentacles squirm down the front of your dress, curling underneath your breasts and squeezing them. You gasp into Bucky’s mouth and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. Even more tendrils travel lower, cold shocking your feverish skin, and you feel them toying with the elastic band of your panties. Bucky’s hair tickles your nose when he presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly.

“Been wanting to do that for a while… you sure you’re okay with this?” Bucky asks even as his body is clearly trembling with unsatiated lust.

When you open your mouth to answer, Frank bites down hard on your neck, and you’re seeing stars as he draws a cry from your throat. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“Twenty bucks says she’s soaked through. You’re enjoying it just fine, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“I-I…” you start, but only a low groan follows when he nibbles on your earlobe. Their lips occupied everything from your neck up while tentacles lavished you with attention beneath your dress. Frank was right: you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs already. His hand teasing at your inner thigh and dipping beneath the hem of your skirt certainly wasn't helping. 

“She can't even think straight. I think it's working,” Frank snickers. He palms your breast roughly through your dress, finding the hardening nipple and tugging on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck…” you stammer breathlessly. You're still facing Bucky, and he's drinking in every delicious expression of desire that crosses your face. He adjusts himself in his pants, but the tent forming there is obvious. Your mouth waters when you catch a glimpse of it. 

Bucky’s hand finds itself on your opposite thigh, spreading your legs apart as tentacles dip lower. Your breathing stops in anticipation. Part of you wonders if he can feel everything that they feel. The groan he utters when he swipes a tendril up your clothed slit answers that question, and you answer him in kind with a throaty whine. 

“She's drenched, Castle,” he growls before kissing you again.

“And we're only just getting started,” Frank adds as his hand yanks down the front of your dress. You let out a soft gasp as those rough fingers grope at your bare skin. His teeth and tongue work their way down your chest. When his lips close around your nipple and his tongue flicks back and forth rapidly across the bud, your legs try desperately to clamp themselves shut. But their hands wouldn't allow that. In fact, Frank slaps the tentacle out of the way before cupping your sex to feel just how wet you are. His approval hums through his lips, and the small vibrations of it against your sensitive flesh have you bucking into his hand. 

Speaking of hands, you've been at a loss at what to do with yours this entire time. It was difficult to focus on any one thing. Your palms smooth along their biceps, or you feel your fingers clutching desperately onto their shirts and wrinkling the fabric. Every ounce of your concentration is spent processing each source of pleasure and simulation they give you. 

Bucky's lips leave yours to travel lower, nipping at your collarbone. He gazes up at you with no small amount of anticipation, practically begging you to continue moaning for the two of them. Your head falls back against the couch as you gasp for air. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Bucky praises as he massages your thigh. 

“Mm… I… it feels… fuck…” you groan, your fingers finding the back of Frank's head and holding him to your chest. Your legs are quivering as he continues pleasuring you through your panties. 

“Feel even better when you've got our cocks stretching you out,” Frank adds bluntly as his breath ghosts over your nipple.

You feel like a whore when you moan at those dirty words. The idea makes you impossibly wetter, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. Bucky seems affected by it too, because now he's the impatient one trying to free himself from his pants.

You barely catch a glimpse of it before you feel his tentacles wrapping securely around you and lifting you up, settling you on his lap. Those same tentacles rip open your fishnets and tug your underwear to the side. A surprised gasp escapes you at the sound of torn netting, but you don't have time to be offended. He's hovering your slick wetness over his achingly hard cock, grinding it up against you while his free hand grips your ass and guides you back and forth. 

“Oh fuck… Bucky,” you whimper. They weren't kidding about taking care of you. You didn't move a muscle as those cold tendrils held you aloft.

“Who's the impatient one, now?” Frank accuses with no small amount of annoyance. He's standing up behind you now, lifting your dress up around your hips and groping your ass. In his frustration, he gives it a hard smack, but that sting only drives you crazier and you let out a staggered keen.

“Like that, do ya?” he asks with a malicious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He gives you a few more smacks, enjoying the sounds they pull from your lips. “We talked about taking turns, but maybe what you really need is to be stuffed completely. Want us to use you like our doll, doll face?”

You can see the flicker of worry in Bucky’s eyes, thinking that maybe this was going too far, but you're practically gushing at the idea. You nod with a pleading whimper.

“Fuck, yes. Please. Ruin me,” you respond. Despite his hesitation, your words cause Bucky to twitch against you. You want so badly to guide his cock into you and start bouncing on it, but those tendrils wrap around your wrists and keep your arms in place behind your back.

Bucky's breathing grows ragged, and he gives you a warning look. “Keep saying shit like that, and you're gonna drive me crazy.”

“Why don't you shut your mouth and keep putting those tentacles of yours to good use? Stand and hold her up so we can both fuck her,” Frank commands with a snarl. You hear the clink of his belt buckle and the growl of a zipper soon follows, and even before Bucky has complied you feel a thick, hard cock pressed against your ass.

Bucky gives the other man an indignant huff, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right here on the comfort of the couch. Not to mention that using his tentacles like this was completely uncharted territory; they seemed affected by his desires and impulses, but even he doesn’t trust those all of the time.

Unfortunately for him, those sweet lips of yours pout irresistibly at him. And when it comes to you, his resolve crumbles in an instant.

“You want this?” Bucky starts, standing upright as his arm tentacles lift you higher. Your arms are above your head now, and a tentacle slithers down further until it teases at your neck. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me if you get overwhelmed,” he tells you as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lip curls ever so slightly, almost disgusted at himself for giving in so easily. But even he couldn’t deny just how wet and ready you seemed to be. And the way your hooded eyes look at him, the way your pupils swallow your irises completely, draws a soft growl from his throat.

Your only response is to lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, tugging him closer, smirking and daring him to continue. Tentacles meet those quickly, binding your ankles together and pinning you to his body.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But we’re in control here,” he mutters as his lips brush against yours. You try to meet them properly, but he holds you in place by your chin as he pulls away. A low whine chokes from you, and he shakes his head. “You signed up for this.”

While your heated exchange continues, Frank strokes his cock behind you, readying himself with lubricant. Bucky would have the easier job of it, but that doesn’t bother him. He’s not called the Punisher for nothing. Since he doesn’t have to worry about holding you up (though, he most certainly could), he rips your panties off of your body with one hand while the other presses two slick fingers against your anus. You yelp at the sudden intrusion, completely ignoring the second aggression performed against your clothing for the night. No, you can only focus on how thick his fingers are as they press against the tense muscle. You’re breathing heavily as he eases the first digit inside.

Bucky finally releases your chin, instead taking his own length in hand and teasing it up and down your slit. He spreads your wetness over the tip, watching your face carefully as your lips part into an “o” shape. You were being teased from both sides, never fully getting what you wanted, and it leaves you a whimpering mess. Frank chuckles from behind as he inserts a second finger.

“Yes… more! Oh gods, please…” you beg as you buck against them.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he grunts while scissoring the digits inside you.

A breathy chortle of agreement drags out of Bucky’s lips. The tentacle that teased at your neck before now wraps around it fully, constricting slightly. Your eyes go wide at the sensation, but Bucky doesn’t miss the way your thighs clamp around his waist. The end of the tendril brushes tenderly at your lips like it’s trying to map them out by touch alone. The tip of Bucky’s dick finally pushes inside you, slipping through easily as he slides inch after inch into your beckoning heat. His head falls forward with a groan, his brows knitting together as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch of him. Strangled curses force their way from your throat, words of praise bubbling at your lips as your velvety walls suck him in. You already feel so full, and if they continue, then that means…

“So… tight,” Bucky manages as sweat beads on his forehead. “Dunno how she’s gonna-”

“She’ll be fine,” Frank interrupts, speaking for you as he withdraws his fingers. He grunts in amusement at the small squeak you let out. You don’t even have time to mourn the loss before the head of his cock pushes insistently against your prepared hole. “Relax, doll face. Breathe.”

Well, that’s easier said than done when you’re being gently choked by an eldritch tentacle.

Thankfully, the appendage relents, and just as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet oxygen, Frank shoves the entire tip into you with one push. Your breath catches in your throat. He thrusts that little bit in and out, sinking further and further each time. It rocks you against Bucky. He’s having a hard time keeping himself restrained from moving as is, and those little bounces are testing his resolve. His hand grips your waist almost painfully.

And then, without pomp or ceremony, Frank sheathes himself to the hilt. You cry out loudly, tossing your head back, but he’s done waiting. You’re lucky he took the time to stretch you out a bit in the first place, he thinks. His cock pistons in and out of your ass rapidly, his broad arm wrapping around your front to paw at your breasts as they bounce with his movements.

Bucky can feel the other man’s cock through that thin wall of skin, making you impossibly tighter. It’s an effort when he begins thrusting. Once he’s able to match Frank’s rhythm, they alternate, never leaving you empty. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw hangs slack as moans pour from your lips.

“Atta girl,” Frank grunts before he starts biting and sucking at your neck. He’s fucking you aggressively, possessively, wrecking you completely as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your nails dig into the tentacles that hold you aloft, and Bucky hisses. You feel yourself being choked again in retaliation. He wasn’t expecting you to tighten around him when he did that, though.

Gods, you really were the perfect little fuck doll, weren’t you?

Bucky doesn’t know where to focus his gaze. Frank’s hand squeezes one tit while the other bounces with their thrusts. Your neck looks so beautiful with his tentacle wrapped around it. Your lips part so sweetly as you desperately gasp out your sounds of pleasure. He looks down to where your hips meet, and you’ve already ruined the front of his pants where they sit beneath his cock. Fuck. He reaches down, pressing his palm against your stomach as his thumb flicks circles on your clit.

Your mind is going blank. You don’t even form actual words anymore, simply babbling incomprehensible sounds as your mascara runs in lines down your cheeks. Pressure builds in your core, amplified by your lack of oxygen, and your thighs tremble around the Winter Soldier. Frank pauses in his thrusts, and before either of you can question why, he’s timing his thrusts with Bucky.

You feel full to bursting. Your moans are sobs now, and your body hangs limply in the tentacles’ grasp as they fuck you in tandem. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and a tendril presses against it before snaking between your lips. In your fucked-out state, it only feels natural to suck on it.

“Sh-shit…” Bucky curses as that causes his thrusts to falter for a second. “How do you keep getting sexier?”

Frank sucks mark after mark into your skin, angling his thrusts to the side slightly so he can spank your ass with his free hand. You scream around the tentacle in your mouth. So much pressure, so much euphoria. You’re going insane, absolutely cock-drunk. It builds in you, with electrical currents zapping straight to your core with every thrust, every bite, every slap. Your walls flutter around them, and Bucky redoubles his efforts at playing with your clit. So close. So close.

They’re not faring much better than you. You’re a feast for the eyes from the front and the back, and those gargled moans and strangled cries you keep making only spur them on more. Their pace quickens, muscles straining as they fuck you into utter oblivion. Bucky’s eyes close and he grits his teeth. Frank only gets even more aggressive with his affection, nearly bruising your breasts with his squeezing and making sure your ass has a permanent sting.

“Take it, doll face. Fuck,” Frank curses. You can feel him swelling inside you with his impending release.

“Y… mmhh… yeth, oh f…fuck,” you stammer around the tentacle in your mouth. 

And then Bucky angles his thrusts just a little bit to the side. You gasp with a shrill cry.

Bingo.

He hammers into that spot, never relenting on your clit. The tentacle around your neck squeezes tighter, and for a moment you wonder if you might black out. But it’s all too good, too intense, and you feel it rising, rising--

Your walls spasm around them and Bucky releases the tentacle around your throat in the same instant. A hoarse cry pours from your lips as you experience an earth-shattering orgasm, oxygen rushing to your head and your entire body convulsing in the tentacles’ hold. Wave after wave of gooey warmth washes over you. Both men watch you in awe as you let go completely, falling limp, and fuck you even faster to chase their own release. You fade in and out of consciousness as your orgasm fades, but you’re brought back to reality when Frank grunts and growls animalistically before stilling, pumping load after load into your ass. His softening cock slides out of you as he steps back and falls against the couch. 

Bucky is gasping, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he takes over, his tentacles retracting back into his metal arm as he catches you. You yelp in surprise as your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. His eyes bore straight into yours with an undeniable ferocity, and then he’s kissing you hungrily. Your fingers thread into his brown locks, and he continues fucking you as he holds you aloft in his arms. He groans into your lips as his hips pick up the pace and you feel yourself moaning along with him. He lets out a long, drawn out growl when he finally stiffens, thrusting a few more times as you feel his seed paint your walls. When he breaks the kiss, he’s panting, and he too falls back against the couch. He’s still holding you, and you let out a giggling yelp as you fall onto his lap.

It takes some effort to control your trembling limbs, but you manage to extract yourself, returning to your original seat between them. All three of you are a mess, panting, sweaty, and half-dressed.

When you happen to glance over to the TV, you’re surprised to see that they’re still playing Fifth Element. These commercial breaks are getting ridiculous. Frank absentmindedly looks for the remote, looking to turn down the volume, but can’t seem to find it and gives up. Probably between the couch cushions, but he’s a bit too lazy to look that hard right now.

Bucky’s arm finds its way behind you again, but this time it rests on your opposite shoulder. “So… feeling good, Y/N?”

You hum, lolling your head back and forth to look at both of them. “Mm… I think I can’t feel my legs,” you joke with a chortle. “And… I definitely think we should do this more often.”

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Since you mentioned dead dove request. 👉👈 Could it be possible to request Synthetic Energon!Ratchet? I feel like that mech would do unspeakable things when horny.

Maybe he has a crush on reader who is a mechanic helping him out, and he gets jealous when he sees reader bond with Knock Out now that he doesn't have the medbay and you to himself. Reader could casually offer to buff/polish Knock and that pushes Ratchet over the edge and just yanks you and takes you to his quarters after giving you the silent treatment all day. Highly doubt that mech would show any restrains.

"How's it Hummin'" Will forever be HOT. Like goddamn sleazy but HOT. Sorry It's being split into a two-parter XP

cw: Heavy Dub-con. Reader wants it, but maybe not quite like that.

It had been innocent. Or so you thought. Ratchet had been moody, especially ever since he tried that synthetic crap. Ignoring you all day, even when you came directly to him, asking if you could help with anything. The huff you received in return was enough to know you didn't want to deal with whatever he was upset about.

Knockout was better company today anyways.

The formerly Decepticon Medic had warmed up to you despite being human. You knew your stuff and didn't joke or distrust him for being a turn coat. You could even share a few laughs and talk about Movies. He offered to let you ride with him to see one at the drive in.

Ratchet mumbled something. You assumed it was annoyance at what ever project he was working on. After some chitchat, you and Knock Out get to work, snarking back and forth. It was a project you had been working on for awhile. Something Ratchet said you didn't need his help on.

A couple hours in, you're taking a break, sitting next to Knock out. He holds up an arm, sighing at a scuff.

"I miss Breakdown. He could get this out and polish it away like it never happened." He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Knowing what happened to his friend, you felt a little bad, "Well maybe I can Buff that out for you later?" Ratchet drops a tool but you pay it no mind, "I got some tool in my truck if you're okay with human tools. I could-" You stop, seeing Knockout's face.

He isn't looking at you, but past you, Optics wide. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach and knockout backs away, servos held up. He speaks in Cybertronian. There is a sharp response behind you before you are snatched up.

The grip is a bight tight, but nothing damaging. You try to struggle out of it but you're brought up quickly to meet green Optics. "Quiet."

It's Ratchet. What was up his aft? You try to speak again, but he growls at you. The sound and vibration sending a shiver down your spine. He stomps through the base all the way to his quarters. Far in the back. He liked the quiet. You are none-too-gently dumped onto the slap of rock he made into a berth. The room is dark, save for the glow of his eyes. The green makes you uneasy. As does the way he leans close, servos flat on either side of you.

"What's up Ratchet?" You sit up on your elbows, heart racing, trying to keep your voice steady.

The Medic glares down at you, silent. Servos dragging off of the slab as he stands straight. Glowering down at you, he looked even more massive.

"Getting real fragging close to that Con." He spits the last word out.

"He's not a decepticon anymore. You know tha-'

A massive metal fist slams down beside you, his face close. You're bathed in that sick green light. Vision drowned in his optics. His voice, a tense whisper.

"Getting. Real. close."

You start shaking, unable to look away as the mechanics of his optics shift and focus on you. Who was this, cause it sure as hell wasn't Ratchet. All this change started with...

"Ratchet. Come on. You-" you take a shaky breath, "You haven't been yourself. Lets just-"

"No." His voice is firm as he grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the berth, "I have never felt more myself. Stronger. Faster. Better. Can't you see it? Can't you see I'm better than everyone else? Especially that scrap excuse for a doctor?"

Trying to scoot away only made his hold on you tighten enough to earn a grunt.

"The frag do you see in him, when I'm right in front of you?"

You had always suspected something, Ratchet was a bit softer with you compared to the other humans. Always excluding you from his complaints about humans. Taking time to talk to you, teaching you about Cybertronian physiology. But this...

"Ratchet, that shit is making you act weird." You say, reaching out to touch the servo that grips you. The large Metal thumb running up and down your leg. It sent another shiver down your spine.

"No, I'ts making me act just right. I'm not holding back anymore." His thumb slides under your shirt.

[iwoulddieforher]

(told me ur new man don't make u- what?) That's A Damn Shame | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

Alexandra Cabot, the Homicide Bureau Chief, comes to Casey Novak's office regularly, for idle chatter, for complaining. When she comes in dazed and having apparently just hooked up with her subordinate, she asks Casey for help understanding why the hell she did that- and Casey teaches her exactly how well she understands her. Warnings: Explicit sexual content (fingering, A receiving), extensive discussion around cheating/affairs and compulsive heterosexuality The title is from "ALL MINE", the song, but the song has literally nothing to do with how this fic ended up ?? This was initially supposed to be a lighthearted character study for Alex paired with Casey's sassiness but my beta reader is currently staring blankly at a wall .. Read below or alternatively on ao3, which you can find here

"Hey," Alex muttered, strolling her way into Casey's office without asking, throwing her bag on the floor next to the couch and proceeding to collapse down on it, "Are you working on anything confidential or would otherwise need me out?"

A bemused Casey Novak raised an eyebrow, setting her pen down from where she was sitting down at the desk and raising her eyes to examine the homicide bureau chief flopped gracefully on her couch. "No, not really. Can't catch a break?"

"I had sex with Jim Steele."

"Oh!"

"Why did I do that?" Alex raised her head and squinted in Casey's direction, and Casey realized not only was Alex missing her glasses, but her lipstick was also smudged, her mascara coating a millimeter of skin below her eyes, and her hair was tussled. Had she come directly here from... apparently having sex with her subordinate?

"..Uh," Casey offered blankly, trying vaguely not to conjure the image of a flushed Alexandra Cabot being pounded down by some man she had hardly met, and then doubly hard trying not to envision Alex naked at all from how that thought would stir the anatomy of her abdomen, "You tell me?"

"I'd love to tell you, if I knew." Cabot let herself go limp, chin resting on the wooden armrest of the couch so she could watch Casey pause from what she was doing to stand and come over to sit beside her.

"So... how are we feeling about that?" Casey prompted, slinging one leg over the other and leaning backward, stretching her arms out and letting her spine unfurl, small sounds of her joints cracking from hours of being hunched over a desk satisfying her enough to let out a long, contented sigh.

Casey, by now, was used to Alex showing up in her office. They had become fast friends since Alex had rejoined the pursuit of justice since leaving witness protection, now that Casey had dealt with one man who had threatened her and the other had died in prison. Alex inviting herself inside, occasionally bringing along Chinese as a bribe to persuade Casey into allowing her office be used as a lounge room for the blonde, was not by any means an uncommon occurrence.

Truth be told, Casey didn't even really remember how this whole arrangement had started, just that it would happen at least once a week- Alex would wander in, distract her for an hour or two with snark and humorous conversation, and then proceed to wander her way back out.

At first, Casey had been almost eager yet simultaneously tentative, because, well- the first time they had met they had gotten along so well that the night ended with Casey sprawled open, trying to catch her startled breath as Alex licked her lips and rose casually as if she hadn't just brought Casey to the most intense climax she had ever experienced. But she found that this apparently wasn't what the blonde Chief of Homicide was seeking, only companionship, because Alex never made a move and at some point mentioned a boyfriend, and Casey had shrugged to herself and decided to resign from that idea.

"I just- I don't even know how it happened!" Alex admonished, twisting and wriggling for a moment so she could slide her legs over Casey's lap. She was now effectively lying on her back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with very bewildered blue eyes, her knees elevated slightly as they rested on top of the leg Casey had crossed over the other of her own. Casey patted her raised knee with one hand sympathetically.

"He was- we were arguing, I guess maybe I was being unfair because- well, no, it's my job to get results and that's what I've been fucking trying to do- well, anyway," Alex huffed, her hands waving and gesturing into her air above her as a way for her to emphasize her utter confliction, a sight that only made Casey more amused, "And he insinuated I was fighting with him because Robert and I aren't doing well and then tried to walk away from me! The sheer nerve of this guy! So I grabbed his hand and he literally almost hit me as he waved me off and then-"

Her energetic recounting turned quietly the mild mortification and she covered her face with her hands, eyes squeezing shut as if disgusted, "and then all of a sudden he was kissing me and in literally less than a second he was ripping my cardigan apart- literally, one of the buttons broke, look-"

Casey did look, and yes, one of the buttons on Alex's cardigan was in fact missing.

"And then he pushed me up and on the table and used the hand not on my hips to shove all my papers off my desk and then I was being pushed backward and my cardigan wasn't on at all and he was on top of me and I was taking my glasses off and then he was shirtless? I think I helped him rip his shirt off? He literally ripped it off Casey he broke his undershirt-" a pretend-pained gasp, then, incredulously, "and he didn't even manage to get it all the way off it was just hanging like halfway on like a rag, Jesus. And then he was fumbling with his belt and it sprang out of his pants and-"

"Okay Cabot," Casey cut her off, "Good lord, that's enough detail for me," The younger woman said this hastily, swiping her hand impulsively to bat at the elder woman's face, and Alex groaned again loudly, rolling her head side to side as if trying to shake off the fact that had just happened or at the very least the recollection of it.

"Casey, why the hell did I do that?"

Casey snorted, tossing her head backward to stare at the ceiling alongside her friend who seemed utterly transfixed by it, a defined crease of bafflement between her eyes, as though the painted cream above them would have some profound answer to her question.

A bit selfishly, Casey thought she wouldn't have minded hearing Alex continue in her description, because her fumbling, flushed ramble sounded almost sexy in the frantic tone she was using and Casey really did like hearing Alex talk. Most of the time when Alex came into her office and proceeded to make herself comfortable, this is what they did- tell stories back and forth, exchange troubles and woes they knew only the other would be able to really understand. But if she had let Alex keep talking the next time she was alone and ovulating she knew that detailed recount would nag at her mind and that seemed wildly inappropriate since Alex clearly was not fond of it in hindsight, besides, the sexual memory she wanted to associate with Alex was the one they had shared, not that of Jim Steele with his undershirt half torn open half still clinging on to his frame humping like a dog into her. Alex was too physically glorious for that- Casey didn't want to be distracted by needing to cut his bumbling out of her imagination constantly.

Alex groaned again, loudly, thumping herself against the head with a knuckle and then fully arching her back to stretch out her shoulder and spinal muscles with the discomfort. "I'm about to be engaged, for God's sake, we're planning the fucking engagement party..."

Casey chuffed in the back of her throat, tilting in a way that made her faux blonde hair sway idly. "So, do you not want to be engaged? Did Steele dick do any good for you?"

"No, absolutely not." Alex retorted a bit too hastily, a bit too firmly, but it sounded like she was answering exclusively the first question, ignoring the second.

Casey jotted that down, mentally, to prod at that line of questioning later. Girl gossip, she supposed it was.

"My family would have my head on a platter if I... he hasn't asked me yet but I know he will soon, and I can't say no- Casey, why the fuck did I just do that? Why?"

She emphasized the 'y' in 'why' so long it sounded almost like a sighed whine that made Casey flex her eyebrows, another mildly entertained huff leaving her nose, and she patted Alex's knee again mock-patronizingly.

It was as if her brain was stuck in some sort of a looping track, able to diverge based on Casey's questions for a few moments until sheer bewilderment brought her straight back to a question neither could genuinely answer.

"Well- you said you and Robert were having problems, was this some kind of revenge sex action?"

"No," Alex sighed, "Although... I guess it wouldn't be wrong to say my issues with Stilton are... maybe it did add to it, actually, yeah."

"What kind of issues have you two been experiencing?" Casey sat upright, folding her hands self-importantly in her lap, deciding to play faux therapist, which made Alex roll her eyes and raise one leg to bump her shin against the side of Casey's face playfully- it missed, slightly, hitting the entire side of her body gently, pushing up against Casey's chest and cheek. Pretend outraged, Casey grabbed her leg and forced it back down. "That was not very ladylike, Miss Cabot, how dare you. Answer the question."

She didn't release Alex's leg, though, no, opting instead to smooth delicate little circles with her thumb at the side of Alex's knee, gazing half-focused at the blonde's long, lithe, frankly sexy as hell legs as they lay haphazardly over Casey's own.

Alex liked physical touch, she liked it a lot actually despite being so reserved with giving it, and Casey had grown accustomed to how casually Alex provided her with it- this position as an evident example, Cabot entirely content to lay sprawled over Novak and jest by pretending as though she were going to kick her, and Casey too had begun reciprocating in that right, leaving her hands in small motions on Alex's body in random places.

It could very easily pass for platonic, but Casey wasn't sure if that was the only thing she felt, although Alex apparently did not seem to care either way.

"I..." Alex turned her head, finally awkward, a bit of her composure returning after the initial shock faded and she began actually pondering the answer to her vital question. "It just... doesn't seem like we really know what we're doing, I guess. It's not like we argue. He gets home from work before I do and then I get home from work and he expects me to cook and I don't. I order something, and then I take my portion to eat in the study because I have more work to do with my volunteer associations and he thinks that's pointless and I don't, and then I do the dishes which is just two forks and two knives, and then we go to bed if neither one of us has more work to do, and we sort of just lay next to each other and..."

"Intimacy isn't going well?" Casey hummed, her fingers straying from just her knee, her index and middle being used to create a little man that walked down the length of Alex's tilted shin and then back up it. She liked the fact she could toy with Alex's body like this, that she could just enjoy the feeling of the pads of her fingertips along ridiculously expensive fabric while still listening intently. Truth be told, sometimes Casey didn't especially like making eye contact and needing to seem like she was paying full attention by scrutinizing her own body language- Alex had no such expectations, she trusted Casey was being attentive to her regardless.

"It's just not really happening." Alex muttered, "I mean, we do, at least once a week, but it could hardly be considered being intimate. It's- it feels like we think we're supposed to, at least, but it's so... quick, it feels like he's barely paying any mind to me. I do all the work, I'm on top of him and I try to make it seem like he's in control still, doing my best to be entertaining, and he doesn't really look at me that much. He just squeezes his eyes shut and moans. He doesn't even hold me."

With a jerk of her eyebrows, Alex opened her eyes, a soft scoff leaving her mouth. "That feels almost pathetic to say. I mean, maybe I'm just getting older-? It's not like I have the body I did in my twenties-"

Casey bopped her on the head for that comment with no hesitation, an incredulous chuckle leaving her throat. "Seriously, Alex? You know you're sexy as fuck, you aged like top-shelf wine does. Continue, but without the self-deprecations."

Alex raised a teasing eyebrow, flashing her an affectionate, broad smile, which Casey returned easily, equally as playful. It felt warm in her usually cold office with Alex semi-on-top of her, despite the fact Casey was frequently chiding Alex for her skin being cold to the touch, citing iron deficiency or low blood flow and trying to encourage her to eat more red meat. Perhaps Alex just made Casey feel warm herself.

"Alright, if you say so," Cabot conceded, "but it really feels like he doesn't think he has to be an active participant. And it's not like he's very active in any other aspect of life either outside of his conferences."

"What do you like about him, then? I know ambition is such a turn-on for you."

Alex snorted, but indulged the question, "I really like... this sounds self-centered, but how much he knows about me, I guess?"

"Oh?" Casey tilted her head again, shifting her gaze from her hand running along Alex's shin to the halo of blonde hair splayed out around the elder woman's head as she lay on the couch. Casey's previous comment about the other woman being beautiful was not forgotten about, to her at least, and now that she was indeed thinking about it she allowed herself to indulge in gentle admiring of Alex's features as she spoke.

Alex inhaled to respond, and Casey's eyes traced the delicate curve of her collarbones that stood out so deliciously from her skin, and when she parked her lips to speak Casey's jade eyes flickered to examine that motion, too.

"He notices things. I like that a lot about him. When I came out of protective custody everyone at the galas my family instructed me to attend wanted to talk about what had happened, hear how difficult, that sort of thing. A couple weeks in he struck up a conversation with me, and it was just... different."

Despite being very heinously attracted to her, Casey realized vaguely that she had little issue listening to Alex recount her love story with her soon-to-be fiance to her. She was the one Alex was laying on top of right now, at least, she was the one Alex came to bother at work when the blonde woman could easily be- well, not for this particular conversation, but for their previous ones- on the phone with her man instead. Little moments like this were enough to satiate her. She wouldn't be made upset by some false notion that Alex would for some reason be her's, and regardless, Alex showered her constantly with affection through their casual friendship- Casey never felt like she was or would have to be fighting for anything. It was comfortable.

"He knows my coffee order, and how I take my whiskey," Alex murmured, and Casey's eyes followed the gentle, perked slope of her nose as the blonde sighed softly along with those words.

London Fogs were her guilty pleasure, but she couldn't find many cafes that made them just the way she wanted them to. Otherwise, an Iced Americano was her usual order, or a Red Eye for those nights when work was particularly grueling. Alex took her whiskey with a splash of water if she was drinking something expensive and wanted to really savor the taste- she had said it brought out the flavor- but was also fond of Manhattans in a more casual setting.

Casey knew this, the information surfaced for her easily without contemplation. At some point or other, though source misattribution was certainly at play, Alex had divulged the information to her in some casual conversation and Casey's brain had scribbled it down as important.

Alex blinked, and Casey watched the batting of her eyelashes, the small shifts in the range of dilation of her eyes as Alex continued to stare upward- okay, maybe she was taking this fake therapy session seriously- the small refined details in the corners of her eyes that showed her wisdom, her years of ensuring the streets were that much safer for everyone else. Casey briefly compared the lines that showed tiredness below her eyes with that of the former moments in which she had paid close attention, but decided they weren't particularly worse or better, and she knew Alex struggled with insomnia on occasion normally, so bringing up her sleep schedule was unnecessary.

"What brands I wear," the cardigan Alex currently had on was St. John, but she often wore The Row or staples from Giorgio Armani, "the little things I do when I'm uncomfortable," toying with the third joint of her ring finger with the opposite hand was Alex's most obvious tell, "just.. stuff like that."

"You said he struck up a conversation with you- how did that happen?"

Alex shifted again, moving so she could extend one bent elbow up beside her head, a soft arch and small wriggling movement as she tilted the line of her torso and her hips against each other and then back the other way as she squinted to pull the recollect back together. Casey rolled her eyes with a small chuff- Alex's back must be hurting her from being dicked down on an unforgivable wooden table. If she was sitting up Casey would offer to smooth the coiled tension out of her vertebrae, but it didn't seem like Alex wanted to be upright at the moment, so she just saved the offer mentally to provide to her later.

Besides, Alex with her rear against Casey's thigh, moving slightly, allowed her to feel more of her- not sexually, not romantically, just... just the way Casey enjoyed having Alex near. Her eyes traced a line over Alex's cardigan, imagining the soft pale skin below it that she had been graced with once, admiring it without the need to have it physically before her once again.

In Alex's shifting, she had managed to trap some of the fabric of her top beneath herself, and thus the length of her cardigan in which a button had been ripped away stretched apart to reveal a thin sliver of her body beneath the fabric. Casey extended a hand to poke her gently where the button was intended to be and was rewarded as a muscle in Alex's leg jolted and her abdominal muscles contracted, a snort leaving the elder woman's throat as she swatted at Casey's wrist playfully.

"We had already known each other from high school, technically, although we had never talked much back then."

"Oh, so another acclaimed alumnus from your preparatory school?" Casey chuckled, and Alex flexed her eyebrows and closed to eyes in a nonverbal 'Yes, I know, I know' 'You've already made it clear you think it's hilarious I went to a private school'.

"Okay, Novak, alright, but yes. He just pulled me aside after some of my uncle's friends were scrutinizing what I managed to accomplish in witness protection and asked me if I still preferred the Viennese Waltz over the Cross-Step, and I remembered the only real conversation I had ever had with this guy is during one of the constant mandatory dance seminars. I said no, over the years I had grown more accustomed to the English Waltz, and he smiled this big, easy smile at me and said he did, too. And then he danced with me. It felt natural, like it was something we had done before. It felt right."

"Cute," Casey commented, trying to envision that but for the first time not able to follow because she had no clue about dancing. Her public school had, evidently, definitely not had a mandatory dance seminar, let alone multiple.

"You don't know what those are, do you?" Alex propped herself up on her elbows, then, straightened her neck to flash Casey a teasing look, and Casey rolled her eyes but shook her head.

"No clue, princess."

"I'll teach you sometime."

The idea of Alex swaying her along to some music she wouldn't be able to recognize, the soft, illustrious voice in her ear telling her where to step and when as one firm yet tantalizingly soft palm rested on the crook of her waist while the other encased her hand, was too much to deny. Casey shrugged instead of outright rejecting it, and Alex made a mental note to engage in this activity with her later.

"So, it started well, and then it just fizzled out?" Casey proceeded with the line of conversation, distracting Alex so she could continue fantasizing idly about dancing with her, and Alex took the bait.

"No, I don't think it fizzled out, I think we never really had it to begin with. He's charming, and in the formal events we go to he's so sweet, so affectionate, but it lasts as long as the people around us can see. Don't get me wrong- it's not like he's a bad person, or anything. I just think he doesn't know how to act around me when it's just me, and especially not when I try to let my hair down. It's awkward."

"Well, that's definitely not ideal," Casey said carefully, "One of the things I liked the most about being with Charlie is how at ease he made me. And you're certainly stiff enough as you are, let alone keeping the facade up at home, too."

Curious emotion swirled in the blue of Alex's eyes the same way it always did when Casey mentioned Charlie, which was very, very rarely. Olivia had inadvertently taught the ADA not to relinquish personal information about her life and especially not her sorrows to anyone who may ever grow frustrated by her, lest she wanted what had hurt her most in this life to be thrown back into her face with the intensity of a hailstorm, but Casey supposed she trusted Alex enough not to do that. Conflicted between elaborating on what she meant and then the devil's long tongue lapping at her heart and tainting it with soft panic, Casey swallowed nervously and averted her softening eyes from the blonde's.

Unconsciously Casey pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and sucked at it idly, which she stopped doing only when she felt cold yet comforting fingers encase the side of her face gently.

"I'm always worried you're going to break your skin like that," Alex hummed softly under her breath, and when Casey obediently let her lip free of her self-imposed agitation of it Alex ran her thumb along the length of it, smoothing over the reddened skin so carefully Casey became mildly amused by what she perceived as over-exaggerated concern. Regardless, she didn't mind Alex's hands on her wherever the blonde wanted them to be, and she tilted her head just barely into the feeling of the homicide chief's palm.

Alex was soft with her. She felt so safe here, her face cradled in Alex's lithe fingers, despite the thrum of her heart at her own mention of her ex-fiance.

She distracted herself by instead acknowledging the beauty in Alex's concerned features- the upwards tilt of her plucked, defined eyebrows, the small fold just below her bottom lip created by the little frown she sported. Around her shoulders, glittering like strands of something more valuable than gold, her blonde hair flowed as she drew her face closer to Casey's in order to inspect the fragile layer of skin on Casey's lips. Casey inhaled slowly, and she savored the smell of lavish perfume, vanilla, and the low tint of labdanum- below that, the faintest note of tobacco on Alex's breath from the cigarettes she snuck. Alex's hair smelled like eucalyptus, like violet leaf, and Casey didn't have to ponder that before attributing it- she already knew what it was. The woman's hair smelled like the shampoo Casey had gifted her.

"Is that why you slept with Steele?" Casey mumbled, running back to catch the last train of conversation because she wasn't sure she wanted to keep going on this one, and Alex resigned to accept back to the previous line. "He made you feel like you could let loose?"

"No," Alex sighed, flopping dramatically back down, and although in this position she couldn't keep her grasp on Casey's face she angled one side of her body so her fingertip could draw idle small spiral shapes on the faux blonde's hip.

"I didn't know what to do with my hands the whole time- it felt weird trying to touch him at all, not like it was taboo I just... didn't find myself wanting to." - Interesting, Casey mused, because Alex certainly had an affinity for touching Casey, - "So my arms were just awkward on the desk next to me and I didn't know how to rearrange my face, or anything like that, and the fact I noticed probably means I wasn't letting loose if I was concerned about it."

"How does he make you feel?"

Alexandra considered that for a long second, her body going still, hand dropping from where it played on Casey's waist, and her eyes returned thoughtfully to the hole they had bored into the plaster of the ceiling earlier.

"I... I suppose it felt like he was looking at me. Like really, looking at me. Sure, he's probably picturing some idealistic fantasy version of me who's definitely not who I actually am, and yeah his eyes were on my breast a lot more than my face, but... he kept his eyes on me the whole time. Some part of me, at least."

The faux blonde ADA found her gaze drift over to Alex's chest, something in her stomach whirring to life as she considered the soft flesh, remembered how it felt to see, to feel, to bite. To cup the anatomy in her palms and push gently, to roll the skin between her fingers. Alex had lovely breasts, that much was very obvious, but Casey couldn't imagine looking at them more than she looked at her face.

Because oh, how angelic Alex looked lying there. She was still stationary, her body lacking movement other than the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her face stuck in a look of tentative contemplation, her eyebrows a centimeter closer together than they should've been as she tried to untangle the knots that were her romantic or sexual relationships in her mind. The ridge of her eyebrows, the way her bone structure dipped so perfectly, how her cheekbones were so defined yet her face so round and soft, her jawline sharp enough Casey thought she could nick herself on it if she wasn't careful. Her lips were so perfect, her eyes even more so. Casey would be fully content to drown in her complexion.

"Okay, Cabot." Casey nodded firmly, a conclusion drawn with finality, her sharp mind still geared to be attentive and offer some sort of advice or conclusion despite the majority of her brain space being used for admiration.

"You're having an identity crisis. You slept with Jim Steele because you're having an identity crisis."

Alex snapped upward, a flash of indignation in her taken-aback eyes and expression that made Casey chuckle. She shook her head, adamantly, raising her hands as if threatened.

"No, absolutely not, where did you think to get that from?"

Casey studied how even faux outraged, Alex was still equally as beautiful as she was in thought, her eyes being drawn to the delicate column of her throat, emphasized by the bands of muscle in her neck that shifted as she moved, as she swallowed. It was impolite not to meet the eyes of someone talking to you but Casey couldn't help herself from letting her eyes flicker down.

Alex's mouth had rounded in a bewildered 'o' shape, her lips parting, her eyes fixing Casey with a sharp stare that made her chuckle only harder. Watching Alex be playful with her like this almost felt as though they had something that transcended simple female friendship- Casey could easily kiss her without hesitation now. She didn't.

"Also, forgive me for saying this, but it doesn't particularly seem like you love either of these people-?" Casey continued casually, having mastered her poker face that allowed her to simultaneously follow a conversation while her mind was somewhere entirely else, ignoring Alex's sheer flummox.

Alex kicked her again, with her knee this time, a bit more forceful than last time but still so gentle and slow Casey registered it and actively decided not to dodge. Alex held herself up in an awkward sitting position by stiffening her arms and putting the weight of her torso on her shoulders, staring and shaking her head with complete bafflement at Casey as though the faux blonde friend of her's had just told her she was growing roses from her ears.

"Casey," Alex barked, her voice sharp yet never losing the small taste of playful banter the two always shared and Casey had grown very, very fond of, "You will explain to me what you mean this instant. Talk."

"Listen," Casey patted her on the knee again, inhaling and composing her thoughts slightly, "You became entangled with Robert because he knows things about you, and because he already did know you before witness protection, didn't you? He had known who you were before. He referenced that in the first thing he had said to you."

"I, I suppose-?" Alex spoke quickly, hastily, her eyes flickering to the side as if trying to visualize her soon-to-be fiance.

"And Steele had a fantasy about you, and he wanted you so desperately he fucked up your designer clothes trying to get it, but you did it because he was looking. To some extent, you felt like he saw you, perhaps the more primal side you felt like you couldn't show Stilton."

Alex pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her legs and straightening a bit more so she didn't need to rest all her weight on her wrists anymore, but her leg lay still against Casey's torso, the peak of which rested near her sternum, and neither woman seemed to do anything about it.

"It's all about identity, no? In witsec, you had to be someone else. Robert knew who you were before and remembered the things you had to change about yourself in order for your own protection, and it must've been hard to return from that, trying to step back into your own shoes after pretending they weren't yours for so long. But Robert's validation of who you are only lasts so long as you're in crowded areas, and when he doesn't know what to do with you in quiet settings, you feel like you don't know what to do with yourself."

"Oh, Casey-" Her brow was furrowed now, the corners of her eyes shifting as she squinted.

"And then Steele's validating your power, the fact you're the chief of homicide, he's looking at you and knowing who you are and fantasying about a version of you that he made up because he's so enraptured in the person you are now that-"

"Now that I'm allowed to be myself again," Alex sighed despairing, shifting to press her forehead firmly into Casey's relaxed shoulder and curling into her side. "Oh, fuck, Casey, no wonder you're such a formidable prosecutor, you just read me like an open book."

As if something just occurred to her, she bolted straight, sliding one leg off of Casey's lap so she could push herself up, straddling the younger woman. "Oh hell, did I do that to you?"

Casey leaned her head into one of her own palms, offering a nonchalant shrug.

"Wasn't that the premise of us sleeping together? I was trying to build your confidence and help you get your sense of power back. You looked really satisfied with yourself when you got me squirming. I was trying to help foster your combative spark back."

"What?"

The blonde's voice was so startled, a note of genuine upset in her voice that it did actually manage to catch the ADA off guard, her eyes quickly flickering around Alex's widened, rounded blue ones, searching intently. Alex wasn't teasing her anymore, based on the emphasized crease between her brows.

"And you were okay with that? Casey, I- I assure you, when we slept together I wasn't thinking about me, I was thinking about how much I liked these."

To gesture to what she meant by that, Alex slid the pads of her fingertips beneath the fabric of Casey's untucked blouse, over the waistband of the slacks and gliding, pressing softly, against the relaxed yet defined muscles that formed her abs. Casey jerked, and Alex's eyes darted down the observe how the other woman's body tightened beneath her fingers, to admire the lines between the blocks of abdominal muscles that emphasized the extent to which Casey's core was built.

"Whoa Nelly, you don't need two affairs in one day, Alex-" Casey muttered quickly, suddenly breathless. As she said it, though, she registered in her brain she really wouldn't mind if Alex never stopped the gentle swipes of her thumb inside the dips between her muscles for the rest of her life.

"It wouldn't be an affair if it was with you," Alex shrugged, retrieving her hand from where she had let it explore and patting the hem of Casey's blouse above where it had just been to shift the fabric back down over. "Robert doesn't think homosexuality in women 'counts'."

"...What? Is he stupid?"

Casey's incredulousness at the attitude of Alex's soon-to-be fiance towards potential lesbianism did not deter the blonde, though, who as though lost in thought allowed her hands to move in the same idle patterns along the younger woman's torso, although above the fabric of her blouse this time.

"You know the function I was trying to convince you to come with me too?" She asked instead, averting her gaze from Casey's, her fingertips drawing lazy circles on one of the lower buttons of Casey's shirt.

Casey snorted, leaning back and spreading her shoulders out- if Alex wanted to play around with her shirt, she was welcome to do so, "Yeah, I remember I said I'd rather use a strand of Roger Kressler's over-greased hair to floss my teeth than show up to that."

"He barely even has any!" Alex laughed sharply. Casey felt the other woman's sudden reaction to her unexpected sassiness- the broad, amused smile- infect and catch up on her own face, too.

"Okay, well, I ended up bringing Olivia, and she met Robert there. Those two had a little too much to drink that night and then Liv made a comment about how the two of us had kissed before and if he wasn't careful she'd steal me back to have for herself again, and he said he didn't mind me with women because it wasn't the real thing."

Stilton's rejection of the conclusion a female partner could rival a heterosexual relationship was not unheard of to Casey. She had heard about such beliefs before, and considering Alex was a born member of the last traces of what one could consider noble society in America, the people she was surrounded by having traditional and utterly archaic understandings of homosexuality was not very surprising.

What she was more startled by was the reference to Benson. Olivia's jesting as such did not surprise her, the brunette was lively and humorous and Casey appreciated that about her, but the information that Alex and her former colleague had kissed before was previously undisclosed information, and now it felt odd. If Olivia and Alex had previously kissed- perhaps not coupled as they had, but if Olivia was joking about it, surely it had crossed the brunette detective's mind before ... Casey wondered, then, if Olivia had an enclosed office and not only her desk in the bullpen, if Alex would be choosing to spend her hours with her instead.

For the first time, Casey felt an inkling of jealousy. She did not feel the need to compete with men, for she was on a different level of connection to Alex than Stilton or even Steele, but she didn't like the idea that the 'friend' she borderline flirted with and basked in the presence of so comfortably could potentially have another version of the connection they shared with someone else.

But when she registered her vision again, Alex was staring intently down at Casey's stomach as if something fascinating was written on the impressions made by her muscles against the tight, tailored fabric, and with a soft scoff to herself she decided she hardly needing to be jealous- she did not have to compete with Olivia for Alex's attention, because evidently, Casey's lap was the one Alex was currently straddling.

Returning to the conversation and breaking out of her thoughts, though, Casey realized there might actually be an implication of something else on Alex's mind from the way she hadn't denied Casey's joke comment about a second affair. Alex was staring down at her with some sort of intensity, after all.

"Hmm, that's... well, we would know it's an affair, wouldn't we?" Casey kept her tone light, because, in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure if Alex had been jesting or even meant to imply anything by what she had said, although Casey was certainly thinking about it now.

She entertained the thought of allowing Alex back under her shirt, perhaps to a greater extent, and she too entertained her eyes as they drifted back to observe the shade of lipgloss adorning Alex's lips. She could kiss her.

"Regardless of the whole sapphism-denial belief," Alex murmured, "I did just genuinely have extra-relational involvement, and if I'm honest, I don't know if I care."

So- the concept of them was on the table.

Casey sighed, tilting her head and allowing her body to shift slightly. Alex shifted off of her, returning to sit beside her simply on the couch, her body angled to Casey's stationary stature.

"Do you really want to engage him, then?" Casey questioned, although she was sure she knew the answer. "If you don't love him, and you don't feel guilty about sleeping with someone else?"

Alex shrugged. She, too, knew that Casey was already aware of what she would respond with, but Alex supposed if Casey was deciding the contribute to the conversation verbally she might as well proceed with the motion set.

"I'm turning forty, soon." She said this as though that was an adequate reason to get married. "My family expects it," Casey supposed that reason made at least a bit more sense, "I know we'd have a stable, uneventful life together," ever-planning, always eyes toward the future, Casey supposed Alex was, "and he likes me. I might not find anyone else who would marry me- I might not find anyone else who I'd accept to marry."

None of those were decent reasons to marry someone, Casey wanted to implore her, but from the vague and nearly blank tone in Alex's voice, it was obvious Alexandra Cabot was entirely aware she was signing up for a marriage of convenience. She did not love Robert Stilton.

Casey's mind was brought back to Charlie, to the way she had felt when she realized Charlie was planning on proposing to her, to the pounding feeling of life in her chest- god, she had been so young then, she had still been studying. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had genuinely believed she would find a life partner, and over the years she had accepted it. Accepted what Alex could not. Casey was content to live a life alone, failing the expectations of her parents, rather than marry without love so strong she'd be overcome by it, marry without total conviction. It didn't make Alex's action morally wrong to her, though, she understood the feeling completely. Casey had still a better relationship with her family than Alex did her's, and Casey could bear the weight of romantic failure. Alex was raised to be a woman of proper society, and if the term spinster still existed, Casey was sure it was never Alex's fate to become one.

Alex would have married some man, eventually, and despite her doubt, if it wasn't Stilton, it would be another. Alex's relationship had developed at an exponential rate, dating to the thought of marriage within months, and Casey was sure a woman like her with a plethora of potential suitors would find another to throw herself at if Alex did find a serious issue with Stilton. It would blossom just as rapidly. There was no doubt Alex would be married before forty.

And perhaps a potential other man would feel differently towards sapphism.

Selfishly, oh god, very selfishly, Casey realized she would not mind Alex marrying Stilton specifically if it meant she would not have to relinquish the faint traces of affection, the lingering touch of Alex that lasted too long to be entirely platonic. She had expected it to leave as Alex's relationship with her true partner developed, but tonight's conversation made it obvious Alex was not in love, and that meant whatever- whatever strange thing grew wings between the two women- Casey would not have to bid it farewell. Suspicion from Alex's husband would not have to be a fear for her, for he did not recognize the pounding of Casey's heart for his woman as anything real. It felt very real to Casey, though.

She realized she had gone utterly silent for too long, but then again, so had Alex, when her ears perked to the sound of church bells ringing through the streets, signaling summons to the faithful to recite the Lord's prayer. Casey focused on reciting it internally in her mind- Alex was not religious, if it was Stabler near her they would mutter it under their breath out loud,- and prayed that the Lord would forgive her for the thought she was having towards a blonde Chief of the Homicide department. Not forgive her for homosexuality, no, she knew God loved her regardless of that- she prayed to Him that he would not recognize Alex's marriage, the one that would surely be officiated and be proclaimed to be before Him, so Casey would not have to grapple with the idea of violating the holy sanctimony of Alex's future marriage.

A marriage of convenience was still marriage, and Casey would not dare offend her Father by violating that bond.

But it hadn't been formed yet, she justified, and perhaps something would occur soon to allow her the Lord's response that what she was doing was not...

"Oh, it's six already?" Came Alex's soft voice, broken out of her own independent internal monologue.

"Evidently." Casey nodded, tilting her head to angle it in the direction of Alex, breathing deeply until she caught the faintest hint of nicotine that she could normally only catch if Alex was inches from her face.

Icy blue eyes that contained the passion of a hot spring found eyes as stubborn as the shade of chrome tourmaline that matched them, and they stared wordlessly at each other. Alex's pupils began to dilate slowly and Casey was sure her own must be following suit.

She watched as Alex swallowed, and their eyes communed with each other for a long, long moment, before Alex shifted up and stood, breaking the extent of charged eye contact.

Alex left in this way often, looking at her and then beginning to drift her way off, exchanging goodbyes only when she was already in the doorway. Casey had noticed this about her-, when Alex no longer wanted to entertain conversation, it was like a switch flipped, and she would leave at the earliest availability. It wasn't something Casey took personally anymore, it was just something Alex seemed to do, and Casey had weeks ago resigned herself to accept whatever Alex found herself doing.

She did as Casey expected her to, traveling to the door in her languished, long gate, reaching the door, and resting her hand on the door handle, before she turned back, a flicker of complexity in her elegant face.

"...Casey?"

"Mhm?" Casey was still lying backward on the couch, her arms spread out over the sides of the backrest, but she folded herself into a more composed sitting position under Alex's attention.

"Would you care? If we- ..."

Casey, then, (god, finally) recognized the telltale signs of unadulterated lust in Alex's face- she felt silly for not realizing that earlier- and her own previous question sprang straight back to mind. The only thing Alex had not answered, the note Casey had made to pick the interrogation back up at a later time- this was a later time, and it was now again relevant- 'Did Steele dick do any good for you'.

Snapping out of her emotionally complex daze, Casey almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Oh, he didn't get you off, did he?", Casey realized out loud, and all of a sudden the deep unsettling feeling of yearning was replaced by sheer bafflement and wild amusement, her voice coming out in a snort when she asked, "Steele couldn't finish the job?"

Alex apparently found it irritating that Casey thought this was funny, because she crossed her arms at her and came as close as the illustrious Alexandra Cabot could come to pouting, her bottom lip forcing the teardrop formation above her top lip to distort slightly. Casey, too, thought this was amusing.

"..He thought he did," Alex tried to defend somehow, although Casey had no clue how that could ever be some sort of defense, and she broke open into an audible guffaw, covering the lower portion of her face with her hand.

Alex's subordinate had not managed to bring her to climax, and the sexual frustration was evidenced by how this conversation had gone- she had come here to satisfy it, somehow.

That notion soothed the strange boiling feeling in the base of Casey's heart- no, this was not some twisting and writhing tumultuous emotional affair, and if it was it was one-sided on Casey's part which she could easily put up with on her own, Alex was here simply because she was horny. That was what Casey could force herself to assume, anyway.

Because Casey could deal with that- and she could certainly deal with Alex, too.

"But now you're worked up and you know Robert won't be able to take care of you either?" She couldn't resist prodding further fun at Alex, her voice reclaiming the teasing note they always used with each other in the long hours they had been spending together over the past months.

It was easy, how fast she managed to flip back into this other side of her, the playful, almost youthfully energetic face she could wear around Alex.

Alex's grip on her crossed arms tightened and she tilted her head in mock outrage, just as she had done earlier- she, too, had suddenly snapped out of whatever shared emotional exertion she had been faced with while Casey dealt with her feelings and Catholic guilt.

They were friends.

They were friends, and they could banter, and Casey was not at odds with the concept of friends with benefits- she had done it before herself before and after Charlie, and she had no argument to participate in it again. She'd just ignore the fact Alex would soon become someone else's, it was an issue she could spend hours pondering later.

Alex had come to her because she was aroused and knew Casey could handle that, because they were friends and she trusted her nakedness and her pleasure to be in Casey’s hands, and there was nothing else at play. This was sexual entirely by nature, and nothing else. This is what Casey told herself like a grounding mantra.

It wasn't like she could expect Alex to reflect the depth of her emotion. Alex would not be able to comprehend how Casey felt about her. Friends with benefits, the benefit being the violation of Alex’s engagement, was what Alex would offer, and it's what Casey would lick off the plate same as she would with anything Alex provided.

"..well then, Cabot," she let her lips form a smug, easy smile, and she arched her back invitingly as she leaned back, "come sit on Daddy's lap."

"Please never refer to yourself like that again." Alex's voice was incredulous, but she flipped the lock on the door and yanked the lever for the blinds to snap shut, turning the overhead light off so the only light source was the dying sun outside casting molten gold on the side of Casey's office wall.

Alex's first step back towards her was so tentative it almost scared Casey out of it, but then her next was with a hasty recklessness that reassured her again.

The blonde stood before her, and leaned down, hand reaching for her throat with Casey craned up to allow her, and as Alex ran her long, slim fingers along the junction between Casey's jaw, neck, and ear, they rediscovered the same charged energy in lust-blown wide eyes.

And then Casey was kissing her, soft but without hesitation, and how Alex melted into it, like this was something that was supposed to happen, like it was natural.

It was not rushed, and although it was heady and exciting it was not needy, it was not impatient. Casey knew they were about to sleep together but there was no drive to forfeit any form of foreplay, and Alex's soft, composed movements seemed to suggest the same.

Alex's fingers, the ones on the hand not cupping the side of Casey’s face, for that palm was being used to tilt the faux blonde's face to the side so Alex could encourage her to tilt her head so she could kiss her deeply, reached down to begin undoing the buttons on her own cardigan, the knitted fabric spilling open to reveal her chest, the expanse of skin Casey had been previously fantasizing about, and it was simultaneously so exciting and yet familiar it felt like either the first time or the product of many, surely not the second.

The blonde pulled them apart as though gauging Casey’s reaction to the motion, a thin thread of saliva connecting their tongues as Alex leaned back, and when Casey did not violently tug her forward like she almost expected her to, Alex smiled softly and accepted Casey’s previous offer.

It took less than five seconds for Alex to undo the latch on her belt and let her designer pants drop uselessly to the floor, and then one long, lissom leg found purchase on the couch beside Casey's slightly parted thighs, followed smoothly by the other. Casey had to crane her neck upwards, now, to reach her head up to find Alex’s lips again, and god- fuck, no,- did it feel like coming home.

A gentle push-pull rhythm was developed, a soft turn exchange between whose tongue was exploring where, and Alex stiffened imperceptibly as if she expected Casey to take more or expect more than she was providing, but Casey did not. The elder relaxed, then, breathing contently through her nose, rewarding Casey with the feeling of air against the smooth skin of her face as Alex exhaled.

Alex did not settle down, though, and Casey supposed that much was implied, since in this position with Alex effectively upright on her knees, there was space between the elder woman’s lower extremities and Casey’s still-clothed legs.

From how the column of Alex’s throat pressed against Casey’s face, the younger woman could smell the faint traces that Steele must have left- a slight tinge of metallic saliva across Alex’s neck and the junction of her collar to her shoulder, which Casey was more than happy to quickly replace with her’s, lapping at the elder blonde’s skin. As much as she wanted to bite, to suckle, she would never dream of it, for in an hour Alex would go home to a boyfriend who could not know this happened. But still, she could assert superiority over Jim Steele. Alex moaned softly at the feeling of Casey's tongue soothing any last traces off of her, leaving only her own.

One of Casey’s hands found an easy hold on the curve of Alex's waist, supporting her, while the other began smoothing gently on the skin of her thighs, not near anything interesting, but enough that Alex let out an almost girlish whine. Both of Alex’s hands shifted to rest on Casey’s shoulders, and after a second, her elbows too, the blonde wrapping her arms around her, one hand tangling loosely in faux blonde locks.

“Casey, au, mmph-” Alex moaned into her ear softly as Casey's fingers crept up on her soft skin, echoing the moan again with increased vigor when Casey’s nail drew a small circle, and Casey snorted with a mild degree of amusement, before letting her go.

"...Alex, you don't expect me to genuinely believe that, do you?"

"Hm?" The blonde straightened with confusion, blinking down at Casey who looked at her with a very dead serious expression, piquing one eyebrow in an arch above her green eyes.

"You don't make sounds like that," Casey rasped, eyes flicking to Alex's face as the blonde pulled back hesitantly, Alex's hands coming to clasp around her jawline with that adorable nervous crease between her eyebrows, "And if I'm honest, your fake moans aren't going to get me anywhere."

Alex’s face flushed, the axis of her spine tilting backward as her eyebrows flexed together, not from the sex but from the embarrassment of being caught faking. Casey thought her surprised blush was rather cute.

The blonde was not a moaner, Casey had known that from the first time they slept together, from how as soon as Alex wasn't paying attention to her complexion anymore she fell silent and steady-faced. Anything she did in the earlier phases of relations was purely for the benefit of her partner, and she must be very used to performing in this way for Stilton and Steele, but it wasn't adding to Casey’s experience at all, no.

Alex’s form spoke more than her mouth did, from the way her muscles coiled beneath her skin like a jaguar's, from the way her hips twitched the slightest bit impatiently. She was clearly aroused, but the manifestation was not from her lips, and faux evidence was as pointless to Casey’s sex drive as it was to her in court.

"I'd rather you shut your pretty mouth,” Alex heard Casey coax, the blonde felt mildly disoriented, and she felt lithe fingers return and trace up, higher… She felt like she was supposed to whimper now, and for anyone else she would've made herself do so, but Casey was instructing her not to provide what wasn't genuine, so she didn't.

Casey’s voice was low, that honey-rusted thrum that Alex thought she may never get enough of, that Alex thought the real reason she kept coming into her office was just to hear her talk, even if it was to poke fun at her, even if it was a busier day and Casey couldn't spare absentminded time and instead just complained about what she was working on, was just to listen, to be intoxicated by the sound. She kept talking, but through the haze, Alex wasn't entirely sure if she managed to catch everything that was being said, filthy comments sliding from Casey’s mouth like diamonds dripping from the mouth of a dragon.

“And focus on the feeling of my hands,” Casey was saying, talking her through it as she prepared Alex to take her, “Feel them, Alex? How they're spreading you open?"

And yes, yes, that Alex did. Her fingers pushing the useless fabric covering her away, her middle finger sliding through the folds of her flesh while Casey's pointer and rings sprawled to the side, tugging her further exposed. Alex felt a muscle in her thigh jerk inadvertently. Casey was good at what she knew how to do, and Casey certainly knew how to use her hands.

She leaned forward again, nuzzling her nose into Casey’s hair and wrapping her arms gently around her head and neck. Casey’s body was warm, very warm, and she smelled like sandalwood and everything right with the world.

"And then I'm going to take this and.." The faux blonde was referring to the real evidence of her arousal, then, the warm liquid that pooled in the valley of her thighs, and Casey rolled the pad of her fingertip in a small, innocent circle to collect it there, before dragging it up and to the sensitive bundle of nerves just above.

The muscle in Alex’s thigh that Casey had been gauging her status off of pulsed, contracting, and releasing three times in quick succession, and she felt Alex swallow.

"Just like that, pretty one.” God, her voice- that same muscle stiffened at the sound and didn't let her go until Casey paused, and apparently this, too, was funny to the faux blonde, who scoffed softly, but to her credit concluded her statement, “Your body does all the talking for you and that's what gets me off."

A shaky exhale left Alex's lung and it stirred a strand of hair on Casey's head softly, and then her hips were moving with a greater need, the pad of Casey’s fingertips on her clit building the tense spring Steele had managed to create, to some degree, with his recklessness, but consuming it entirely making it so, so much worse. Her arousal was now entirely and exclusively Casey’s doing.

She didn't want Casey to restrain her or just hold her tightly, she took liberty in her ability to buck and squirm, and Casey did not even seem to consider holding her down or switching positions to make it easier for herself, seeming to be entranced by the simple fact she was making Alex writhe.

The muscles in her abdomen began to pound and contract, squeezing desperately around nothing as Casey continued gentle, firm circles, and Alex gritted her teeth. Casey was taking so long, too patient, teasing her- it was completely unlike sleeping with anyone else, the way Casey was building her up and relishing the way she was about to be brought back down with seemingly no impatience to get to that stage until Alex was hounding for it. The men in Alex’s life did nothing of the sort- she did all the work for Robert herself, to the extent she had to toy with herself beforehand to make sure the engine was even ready to go at all, and Steele just took what he wanted in a way that Alex was sure he thought metaphorically to be as a lion devouring gazelle but ended up more like a dog breeding without real intention, affection or even acknowledgment.

It seemed wildly silly to Alex that she had allowed him inside of her, a mere hour or so ago, just because it felt like she had his attention. Casey, now, was looking up at her with those unforgiving yet simultaneously ridiculously kind green eyes, narrowed and passionate and it made Alex feel guilty to even attempt to compare the two. Steele was a fine man but Casey might as well be heaven.

She was so aroused it began to feel as though it almost hurt, and Casey’s deliberately languished stimulation was not helping. Alex could feel her muscles keep trying to close down around fingers that weren't there.

Alex didn't understand why Casey was taking so damn long, despite her bucking, why wasn't Casey inside her already? It was obvious that's what she needed, why wasn't-

Oh, she realized, a coherent thought bursting through the dam, she’s waiting for me to tell her too.

It's what Alex needed and they both knew that, but Casey was waiting for Alex to tell her. Casey was letting Alex control her motions despite the fact Alex was in a position in which Casey could have her way with no argument.

Something about that made Alex feel disgusted with herself, perhaps the way that fact made her heart falter hopelessly. This was meaningless sex, wasn't it? It was intended to be. This was only because Steele couldn't force orgasm through her form, and if Alex hadn't been reckless earlier, they would not be here. But Casey was more attentive than Alex thought anyone had ever been to her before, and Alex hadn't even noticed that last time, because Alex had been the one more determinedly topping.

"Inside me, Casey," She muttered into her hair and tried to ignore the spillage of emotion inside the cavern of her chest, "Now."

"As you wish," Casey cooed, her voice still ridiculously smug, but without a second two of her long fingers were pushing right where Alex needed them to be, sinking in and filling her, thinner in diameter but so much more satisfying than Steele, and Casey's eyes were watching Alex's reddened lips part to form a breathless, wordless shape.

Alex didn't realize she was still anxious about not forcing reactions, not promoting herself to exhibit something to keep her partner enthused, until she heard Casey marvel, "You're so responsive," and Alex remembered how Casey could read between the lines of her skin. She closed her eyes and nestled her head on the top of Casey's, feeling her pant against her neck.

The heel of Casey’s palm stayed firmly against her clit, every movement of the faux blonde’s arms further building the tower of soft, intimate emotion swelling in Alex’s core, head, and heart, her fingers not so much dipping out of her as simply curling down and then springing back up, with Alex’s muscles contracting and gripping her digits tightly. God, it felt- On occasion, Alex would squeeze herself intentionally around the shaft of Robert, but this was most certainly not that, this was raw and unplanned, unthought of. Casey pulled reactions from her so seamlessly that Alex didn't know what exhibition of her lust she was displaying until Casey began praising her for it.

Men seemed to think the rougher, the more volatile their actions, the faster she’d be, but under Casey’s intent and smooth, lavished movements, deliberate and slow, Alex found herself warning her within minutes in a firm whisper, which sounded void of emotion, except Casey wasn't daft enough to not notice the way Alex had begun to tremble, "Casey- I'm getting close."

"I know."

And then Casey was faster and Alex’s eyes were squeezing shut with further vigor, and she didn't realize she was shivering with the pleasure until Casey’s free hand left the side of her thigh to the small of her back to keep her upright, not holding, not restraining, just supporting, and Alex sunk her hips down to meet the final, deep thrust of Casey’s fingers within her.

The spring snapped, and so did Alex.

Casey thought to herself vaguely that Alex’s climax might be the most ethereal thing she had seen in her life. Why would God allow her to see this, if it wasn't meant for her?

Elegant fingers and rounded fingernails clamped down around Casey’s shoulders, digging into the fabric of her blouse and the skin beneath it in a way that must hurt if it didn't feel so good.

Alex did not fold in on herself, but rather in a smooth, fluid motion each vertebrae stacked on top of each other, her muscles unfurling, her shoulder blades pushing back and spreading open as though she had wings- well, perhaps she did, Casey would not have been able to tell because that was not where she was looking.

Casey watched as Alex towered over her on her knees, her spine elongated, and her chest tilted backward in a way that caused the curves of her ribs to stand out against her skin, her pelvis tilting forward so she wouldn't be at risk of toppling backward.

Alex's eyes slid open, slowly, and she breathed through her mouth, and the younger ADA allowed her a long moment of utter silence while she looked up and admired.

Her cheeks showed evidence of blood racing through her veins, although Casey wouldn't consider it a blush. The dying light glittered and was reflected in the beads of sweat adorning her temples and chest. Her hair rippled easily around her throat and her collarbones, gold shining in the light of the last ember the sun managed to cough out before it, and the room too, sank into comfortable darkness. Her eyes were narrowed, pupils blown so wide the blue of her eyes was nonvisible. Her eyebrows, the ridge of which always carried such emotion, whether it be nonchalance or anguish, were entirely relaxed, and so too were her slightly parted lips and the lines on her cheeks that emphasized every expression she made. Alex wasn't pretending to be anything right now, she was just allowing her chest to heave with the effort of recovering from the perfervid orgasm Casey had given her.

She looked invincible, statuesque, all-powerful, and all-consuming.

Casey did not waste her time admiring by wondering if this could ever, in some other lifetime, really be hers.

"God-” the assistant district attorney breathed, Alex’s sheer beauty having spurred into verbal expression, but Alex shook her head in a small, breathless movement and the younger woman obediently shut up.

Alex stood up on her knees for a long moment, catching her breath, before she glanced down, contemplative, at the mess she had made of herself between her thighs. Removing one hand from Casey's shoulder, she moved to collect the fluid into the junction between two of her fingers, and then brought it back up to her friend’s face.

"Open your mouth, Casey- suck. Taste what you've done, and clean it off.”

With a soft scoff but a hast to comply which defeated Casey’s attempt to be nonchalant, she parted her lips and extended her tongue softly, allowing Alex to place her fingers down on it. Alex ignored the fact her hand was still quivering which was not helped when Casey closed down around it, nursing on her fingers softly, her tongue sliding between and around the columns of Alex’s fingers to taste what she had brought forth from her.

The look in Casey’s eyes as they half-lidded, staring vaguely at Alex’s wrist before traveling the length of her arm and finding her eyes, spurred Alex back on.

She slowly slid off of Casey's lap, hoisting her hips above the couch for a second to pull her mildly ruined panties back over her hips, before relaxing and eyeing Casey’s barely disheveled form attentively. Casey’s cheekbones and the top of her nose were tinted rose, and the look in her eyes displayed arousal.

Alex believed the natural continuation to be the soft request that left her mouth, "Can I care for you, now?", but Casey only sighed, lolling her head backward, the look of lust fleeting from her expression, although her eyes did not turn cold as it left. She regarded Alex kindly, softly. Too sympathetically for Alex to be comfortable with, but it was hard not to be comfortable around Casey.

"Shouldn't you be going home soon?” Casey murmured, “I'm not exactly sure, despite you saying he wouldn't consider this- this to be anything,” - what was it, she thought to herself, if not everything - “If I want an annoyed Robert Stilton showing up at my office impatient for you to go home and UberEats him dinner."

Alex’s eyes flickered down to her exposed chest, to her bare thighs, and registered that yes, he had said he did not believe sapphism to be anything deep enough to rival the heterosexuality that they shared, but it still probably would not be ideal for him to find her like this, or even for him to begin wondering. Besides, if he pondered why she was late, it might somehow be discovered she had slept before this with Jim Steele, and that would genuinely be an issue, which seemed entirely ironic. Alex was content to never feel him around her again, but she might drown if she didn't get to make time to stop by Casey’s office tomorrow.

She felt like she would drown right now, actually, at the thought of leaving.

"Can I stay here a little longer?"

Alex was worried, suddenly, that Casey might regret what they had just done. Perhaps Casey was nonchalantly trying to send her on her way, to tell her to go. Maybe Casey felt used, and Alex gritted her teeth at that thought because she had no clue how to make Casey not feel that way- if that was in fact what she felt- without returning the favor, and Casey apparently did not want her to.

But when she studied Casey’s eyes, they were warm, and she couldn't pick out the color as well in the near darkness but she would recognize the soft emotion in the younger woman’s eyes anywhere. Casey was content.

"You know I'd never say no to that,” Casey hummed, and the deliciously feminine rasp made Alex’s heart clench awkwardly. Casey had noticed Alex had grown concerned and was trying to reassure her. Casey was trying to reassure *her*.

The view Alex had of Casey’s face suddenly blurred and in the fact of her mind she was mildly concerned about her vision growing even worse still without her glasses, before she realized- no, this wasn't an issue of her optics, rather her eyes had glazed over with glassy, soft tears.

Casey’s eyebrows knit over her eyes with a spark of worry, leaning forward and grasping one of Alex’s hands between two of her own, inquiring in a gentle tone, "Are you okay?"

"You're my best friend, Casey."

She said that because she had absolutely no idea how to convey what she really wanted to. Alex didn't know how to make it coherent nor if she was even allowed to say it if she could. She wiped at her eyes with the base of her thumb, and the tears were gone quickly, but the impact they left did not fade just as fast.

Wasn't it so horrendous of her to do this to Casey? To plead out of the situation she had put herself in by pushing her issues and her problems to burden the shoulders of a woman who probably wouldn't see her again if Alex stopped showing up at her office? Casey had taken care of her bewilderment, of her sexual frustration, and now was trying to take care of her anxiety, too. And no one else who knew her would've even realized the blonde was grappling with emotions at all. Casey was just too giving, and it made a bitter taste fill her mouth.

In Casey’s mind, she was stuck somewhere between a daze induced by the imagery of post-orgasmic Alexandra Cabot standing like an angel above her- she was sure the sight of which was burned firmly behind her eyelids- and trying to figure out why Alex seemed like she was crying. Casey was the one who felt so much it made her heart twist uncomfortably, right? Alex was a free-spirited, illustrious woman who simply came down from the sky to grace Casey with her presence every now and again and allow Casey to please her with whatever means Alex so desired. Tonight it was sex, but it might not ever be again. Alexandra Cabot was probably not fond of Casey the way Casey was so enraptured by her. They were friends, as Alex had just said. Perhaps that was her intention to state that, perhaps she just wanted to hear out loud the verbalization that friends was all this was.

"That seems like a rather juvenile term.” Casey was trying to be lighthearted, hesitating, and hoping it didn't come off like she was denying Alex her friendship, but she couldn't accept the word completely, “We aren't exactly elementary students making friendship bracelets..."

Alex snorted, a smile flickering over her expression, and although it was forced genuine affection crept into it quickly and overtook the original intent. Casey returned her smile and Alex flopped down, her head on the side of Casey’s torso, right around her collarbone. How stupid was it that Casey could make her laugh even now?

"Confidant, then,” she bartered, “My consigliere."

She closed her eyes so her ears would encapsulate more of Casey’s small, casual chuckle, and then Alex felt herself tense slightly as she felt Casey’s hand creep below her cardigan on her back, tracing up and down the bones of her spine that stuck out from beneath her skin.

Alex groaned softly as she felt Casey's fingers begin to push against the knots she had formed in her spine. Of course, she hadn't realized how stiff and uncomfortable her back was until Casey was already acting on it, of course, Casey had been able to tell immediately. Alex wondered vaguely when Casey had gotten the idea to massage her because it seemed like it was planned, almost, for Casey did not explore, she moved as though she knew exactly how and what to do.

"... I suppose, so far as friends go,” Alex heard Casey’s voice falter, gently, “you're the best friend I've ever had, too."

The elder woman swallowed and curled more avidly against Casey’s body until she could feel the thrum of her heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as though it was Alex's own. Casey's hands became more insistent as she soothed out the traces of soreness Steele would've left on Alex's frame, if Alex had gone home before, if Alex had chosen to deal with her frustrations in solitude.

"I don't feel comfortable around him-” she was referring to Robert, the man she was supposed to soon leave to return home to, but then she added reference to Steele, too, “either of them- the way I feel so…” - she had no clue what to say, here, - “warm, when I'm around you."

Her blue eyes blinked open, and she knew Casey must see the age, the exhaustion her life had taken in them, they weren't as bright as robin’s eggshells the way they had appeared when she was still a child. Casey’s own paralleled this, the green chipped at the edges, like an emerald worn by time. They were old, they were too old to be acting like this. Like reckless teenagers in love, despite the fact that both women believed fully that the other did not love them.

‘I’m fond of you,’ Alex said with her eyes, with her breathing, ‘in a way that goes deeper than I think it should be.’ Casey studied her for a long moment, her breath catching, and in Alex's position, she could hear as her heart began to beat with a slight uptake in intensity.

A crease appeared between Alex’s eyebrows that conveyed ‘I don't know what to do about how I feel nor do I know exactly what I feel, I think the combination of what has happened to me and the things I’ve done to recover that inadvertently robbed me further of my control- I think it broke something-' and even though she wasn't rambling out loud Casey's slow blink dulled the race of her thoughts. Casey leaned forward, just slightly, a motion so small it might've not happened at all.

‘I’m here,’ she meant, ‘I don't care that you don't know. I don't care if you don't know who you are, because I know you. I might be in love with you and it doesn't hurt me. Don't be scared of me, Alex. Don't be scared that I know you. Maybe you only like me for the sake I see what you are, and that doesn't bother me.’ And Alex looked away, then, because she felt the tears she had refused to let fall prickle back in her eyes, and she would not cry in front of Casey. Her best friend. She put enough emotion on her best friend that she wouldn't let Casey need to help her cope with sobbing, too. Alex had not cried since witness protection and if she started now she may not stop. Robert was at home waiting for her. She could not allow herself to show up post-sex and post-tears, and she couldn't keep stalling for time, stalling for another few seconds being held by Casey Novak either.

Casey took pity on her. Their exchange was through exclusively body language and if Alex chose to ignore it happened, believe she had interpreted communication where there was none, that was her right.

"Maybe they also have your iron deficiency problem,” Casey joked because the words came easy to her, her facade was so strong the jest came off as so close to genuine to Alex, so casual and offhand it did really seem like they were nothing more than friends, and nothing had happened other than meaningless sex, “More red meat, I'm telling you."

"Should I get on that?” Alex scoffed, mirroring Casey’s nonchalance now, “Go home and order hamburgers or something?"

The return to normalcy was so fast, sliding porcelain masks back over warmed skin, that it hurt both of them to do so.

Casey turned to her. Internally she was scared that Alex would say goodbye and not come back. It didn't matter if the last time they exchanged anything intimate or kissed had just passed, but she wanted Alex to know she was welcome to return, that Casey hoped she would choose to do so.

"I won't force you out,” she said softly, “You wander in and wander out at your whim, Alex, and-” Alex raised her head to meet her eyes with a vague stare, which Casey was pleased by, “I'll be here."

"I think I should go home, then.” Alex whispered, “You're right, he's probably waiting."

Casey watched, unmoving and unreactive, as Alex stood, retrieved her garment from where it had been tossed on the floor, concealing the skin Casey had just fondled with quick work, the latch of the belt the only sound in the now silent, now still room. Alex picked her purse from the floor, and then turned, striding the same way towards the doorframe as she had just before they had engaged.

And just as before, she turned, because Alex couldn't resist catching a last glimpse, providing a last word.

"Casey-, quid pro quo?” In a soft, tentative voice she asked, “Can I return the favor tomorrow?"

A small thrill raced through Casey's blood and she provided a small, firm nod, tilting her head in a way that caused her faux blonde hair to spill effortlessly over and around her shoulders.

"Wander in and wander out at your will, Alex. You can have what you need from me.”

Alex was fully aware of why she slept with Casey when she left her office.

But she barely even left her office, no, because she couldn't make it more than a couple steps away with spinning on her heel, coming back in just as Casey had stood from the couch, wrapping her hands around the faux blonde’s collar and kissing her, quietly and quickly, hungrily, guilty, needy. Heady, fast, and soft.

As fast as the flash of blonde hair had reappeared in Casey's vision it was then gone again, and Alex verschwand quickly, lost in the wind, leaving Casey standing with her arms half-raised awkwardly, her lips in a started, kiss-swollen gape, the heart racing in her chest. That was certainly not friendly. That was the furthest thing from platonic.

Alex knew why she’d keep sleeping with Casey, too.

[suraemoon]

Could I please request jealous Rosie hcs or Rosie reaction when you are the initiate the first move hcs. Thank you 😊

I’ll admit right now that the turn out time for this is embarrassing. You’ve caught me in…I think the most stressful week of 2024 so far buttt here we are. My deepest apologies. I’ll be better. Here’s some Rosie. 🌹

Jealousy, Jealousy:

Rosie is very protective of his girl but not overbearing. He knows how secure the relationship is and trusts you to make good decisions. But, of course he notices when another man is getting a little too friendly. When at public places, Rosie doesn’t usually get far enough away for stuff to like this to happen, but due to how drop dead gorgeous you are (the pretty smile that can brighten up anyone’s day, the sparkling eyes that resemble a steady pond, the million dollar legs that give Betty Grable a run for her money) the bold men stay bold. Laughing at things that aren’t meant to be jokes, getting a little too close, etc. He is the king of passive aggression and snark. It’s so obvious that he’s annoyed. Just by the tone of his voice, anyone with common sense can tell he isn’t amused.

An arm wrapped around your waist, interlocking fingers, a random kiss to the temple.

Increased use of the words “us” and “we”

Just plain out saying that you’re his ____ (girlfriend, fiancée, wife, etc)

He’s not subtle but that’s because he has no reason *to* be subtle. He’ll happily let the whole would know he’s yours and you’re his. He’ll redirect conversations, end them as soon as possible, whisk you away into the crowd.

The next day he casually comes across the same man while you’re at home, safe and absolutely clueless of the intersection. That talk isn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that. He’s a lawyer, he has a way with words. It’s direct, serious, and straight to the point. It’s in his job description to argue but it isn’t really an argument, due to the fact that the other man is left terrified of Rosie. Stood frozen in place, shocked. It’s like getting yelled at by a stern parent. Let’s just say…you never see that man again and if you do, he steers clear of your path like you’re a black cat on a halloween night.

A Feminine First Move:

Anon, you’ve got the thought of Rosie’s reaction to a girl making the first move stuck in my head and it’s so adorable. I’m thinking it happens when he first comes to Thorpe Abbotts and is so awkward and dorky. (Talking about flying planes in underwear, you know…the usual) His nickname is Rosie for more reasons then one, he has the prettiest blush. When you walk up to him offering a drink at the bar followed by a slow dance to the romantic jazz of the band, his cheeks are a shade of pink for the whole rest of the night. He’s taken back over how a girl as pretty as you can be so invested, so quick. Imagine his awkward conversation fillers; your siren eyes are so distracting, staring deep into his soul. You listen intently to every single word, a trait that’s appreciated but nervewracking at the same time. He stutters as he talks, trying not to bring up anything embarrassing that would bring it all to ruin.

He tries to keep up with your flirting by replying with some romantic remarks of his own. Soon he gets into the groove and you two have such a magnetic energy. It’s dazzling, it’s exciting, it’s everything. He really gets into his element once the surprise wears off. That doesn’t stop him from reverting back to his dorky, adorable self once you give him a kiss goodnight, your red lipstick on his pink cheek. He waits until your out of sight to dance his way to bed. You two dream of eachother that night. It’s the blossoming of something new, something special.

the dancing i’m talking about lol

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I ask a request about Indra (ROR) has a crush his own s/o and needs to confess. But he didn’t realize s/o has affection on him too :>

Usually, Indra was very confident in himself.

He knew what his strengths were as both a god and a man, and he took pride in them. Some would even call him cocky (unless he was standing next to Shiva). But in his moment Indra felt a feeling he had never felt before: nervous.

“Why don’t you just go talk to them?” Rudra told him.

“Can’t.” Was all Indra offered in reply.

Rudra sighed. “I know it’s easier for you to use your fists, but sometimes you have to use your words.” His friend knew that a lot of his showboating of strength was to impress [Y/N]. Probably assuming that they would one day notice him and confess first, which would avoid this situation all together for Indra. Which would be totally accurate of Indra’s thinking.

“What if they say no?” Indra was usually very brave, but if [Y/N] shot him down he didn’t think he could recover from that.

“What’s going on?” Shiva asked. Arriving on the scene as casually as ever. “Oh. Indra still pining over [Y/N]?” The lightening god growled. “Well, if you’re not going to make a move on them, then I will. I could use a new wife.”

“You already have three.” Rudra reminded him.

“Yeah. But now I can have four.” Shiva snarked back.

Before he could move, Indra stood up and in front of Shiva with a glare. Or, at least it felt like he was glaring at the other god. It was hard to tell with his hair in his eyes.

He then walked over to [Y/N], there was a brief exchange between them, then [Y/N] beamed like the sun had come out after one of Rudra’s storms. “That was nice of you.”

“Eh,” Shiva said with a shrug, “that block head only knows competition and conflict. He was never gonna confess on his own. Almost feel sorry for [Y/N] being stuck with that idiot now. They would have made an excellent 4th wife.”

“Wait? You were serious about that?”

“I never joke about my wives.” Shiva told Rudra. “Which, if you’ll excuse me, I think I will go see and console myself. Tell Indra he’s welcome if he ever comes back over here.”

[danpuff-ao3]

SNARRY FOR BEGINNERS

Are you a bit Snarry curious, but also sorta wary and unsure where to start? Good news: I have some recs for you!

Snarry is a tricky ship for some folks. All of its most problematic themes are what draw me in personally, but that's not to say there aren't some safe places to start for a newcomer!

What I've chosen are:

Nothing too long, so you can get a little taste to see how you feel. So I'm looking at 50k or under.

Nothing "problematic" or as few "problematic" themes as I can get. No underage. No power imbalance. No consent issues. (...or at least nothing egregious haha.)

Works that also maintain some integrity to Harry and Severus' individual characters, and the tension between them. If I play it too safe it won't feel properly Snarry to me! Half the fun is the tension between them, so we must keep that!

So...If you wanna check some out, keep reading!

An Awkward Customer

by AnyaElizabeth. Rated: E. Words: 10,768. Postwar. EWE. Romance. Humor.

Snape can't figure out why Potter is hanging around his shop.

Why Read? A nice rom-com based on the prompt: "Harry makes a bet with someone that he could seduce anyone if he put his mind to it, and that someone selected for him is Snape, naturally." Severus owns an apothecary so we get some nice flirting at the workplace!

a scratch for every itch

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor.) Rated: T. Words: 11,478. Fluff & humor. Magical maladies. Friends to idiots in love. Romance.

Severus Snape is an itch that Harry just can't scratch.

Why Read? Surely fluff is a safe place to start! And as a person who isn't often drawn to fluff, this is one I love, and is a comfort read of mine. Very sweet and silly and a great place to dip your toes in!

Dumbledore's Folly

by Dementordelta. Rated: M. Words: 47,446. Romance. Courtship. Oldie but a goodie!

Snape must court Harry according to wizarding traditions.

Why Read? I've reread this fic countless times over the years and it's still such a fun read. If you like arranged marriage/courtship fics, this is the one for you!

The Interrupted Kiss

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 24,291. Postwar. Romance. Hurt/comfort. Mystery.

Once upon a time, Severus Snape shared a kiss with Harry Potter. Then Harry had disappeared after killing the Dark Lord, leaving Severus the reluctant darling of the Wizarding world. When Dumbledore insists on throwing a ball in Severus’s honour, Severus is convinced the world has gone completely mad. But when he comes across an ashy-faced young man whose half-answers about his identity haunt his every thought, Severus realizes that a ball might be the least of his worries.

Why Read? What safer place to start than a fairytale? If we ignore that most original fairytales are pretty effed up, actually. This is a Cinderella-inspired work. Severus is the Prince (naturally), and Harry is the wandmaker (cool career, right??) who attracts many cute animals! (He does not sing to them, though; what a shame!)

This Time of Ours

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 35,442. Time travel. Hurt/comfort. Romance & drama.

Severus Snape wasn’t supposed to die. Neither was Harry Potter.

Why Read? Emynn has plenty of great Snarry fics, which is why you're getting 2 recs! We start with some fun snarking, move onto sweet bonding, and then...second chances! Very light, enjoyable read.

On the Deficencies of Translation Spells

by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated: E. Words: 41,130. Getting together. Magical theory. Professor Potter & Professor Snape. Beaubatons. Pining. Light angst. Minor Harry/others.

Divorced, single, and free, Harry lives a completely unapologetic life in Paris. Between casual hook-ups and an easy, comfortable job, he likes to think he is as close to happiness as he'll ever be. And when he gets offered a teaching job at the prestigious Académie Beauxbâtons, he thinks he may have found exactly what was missing. But Harry is thoroughly unprepared for what he finds there - a familiar face that's been haunting his dreams for six years.

Why read? It's very Harry-centric. It's Harry's POV, and very about Harry and his journey as he moves to a new place, in a new phase of his life, and settles in. There's an existing connection and attraction between Harry and Severus, and one that unfolds so sensually and beautifully. Harry's very much an adult and mature and has lived a lot of life when he and Severus reunite.

Rapture

by mia_ugly (@mia-ugly.) Rated: E. Words: 48,123. Time travel. Romance.

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

Why Read? It's a classic! It is very beloved in the community for good reason. Gorgeous writing. The relationship develops so naturally, and the pure emotion will knock your socks off. Potentially the best place to start for Snarry. I'm not a big fan of time travel, but I love this fic!

Revealed, Gently

by sarkysue. Rated: T. Words: 22,243. Postwar. Romance. Humor.

Snape isn’t dead, he’s back at Hogwarts and in need of an assistant. Coincidently, Harry is hanging around Hogwarts, reluctant to move on with his life. Cue sniping and snarking, tears and laughter and, possibly, love.

Why Read? It's fun. It's cute. It's a bit silly. It makes great use of how not easy it would be for these two, and having a blast with it! There is arguably a power imbalance what with Harry being Snape's teaching assistant, but it doesn't really feel like much of one. It's only a great opportunity to force these 2 to hang out long enough to fall in love!

The Sleeping Prince

by who_la_hoop. Rated: T. Words: 42,758. Postwar. Deaging. 8th year.

It's hard to ignore your past — and impossible to do so when you can't remember your future. But a meddlesome portrait, a dragon with an ancient grudge and true love's kiss teach an unlikely Prince that a regrettable past doesn't have to mean an unhappy ending.

Why Read? While probably the most questionable on the list, it's still fairly tame. Student Harry and his developing feelings for Student Severus, who is deaged postwar. It feels very much like a feel good teenage romance, wherein the characters very much act their age, awkwardness and all! The only caveat being things change a bit at the end, but there's no underage and it is rated Teen, to be fair!

The Beating of This Fragile Heart

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated: E. Words: 33,146. Hurt/comfort. Fluff & angst. Serious Injury. Romance.

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life. It’s only when Harry’s life is endangered that Severus is finally forced to confront his feelings head on.

Why Read? If you're coming from Drarry, you might be familiar with Writ's works! They've written plenty for drarry and some rare pair works, and they are a fantastic storyteller. This fic in particular is very romantic. Full of hesitancy and insecurity, and seeing how the relationship begins and how it unfolds and changes (for the better) when Severus is forced to deal with his issues. It's quite a journey but so full of love from start to finish and it's just so lovely and full of feels and one I return to again and again.

[pascalispretty]

Come Take It Out On Me

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2034

Warnings: enemies to lovers, snark, bondage, softly dominant Javi, oral sex (f receiving) (Javier Peña eats pussy like a champ), teasing

Summary: You and Javier may not know how to talk, but you certainly know how to fuck. (ao3)

Notes: Written for the lovely @survivingandenduring for the Space Sister's Valentines! The first fic I ever wrote on here was Javier Peña and enemies to lovers, and your prompt was such an inspiration to revisit that whole vibe. Also the song 'Good in Bed' by Dua Lipa was a major inspo. I hope you enjoy! (also unbeta'd because I cracked a bone in my foot, pls be gentle).

It’s late when you get back to your apartment. You had taken yourself out for a drink after work, dressing up in a tight black dress and a swipe of red lipstick. But the admiring looks and offers to buy you another drink irritated you more than they flattered you. Instead, you had made your way over to a payphone and punched in an all-too familiar number.

“Hey, Peña. You wanna come over and fuck?”

Not particularly subtle, but it got the message across.

Back home, you pour yourself a drink and settle in to wait. Your heels are pinching your toes, so you kick them off. You’re vaguely aware of the room becoming warmer, the heat clicking on as the temperature drops.

You’re topping up your wine when there’s a loud knock at the door. You nearly roll your eyes when you open it. Javier Peña has his arm braced against the doorframe, leaning into it like he’s posing for an advertisement for the tight Levi jeans he’s wearing.

“Hello, Javier. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me,” you tell him, lifting your wineglass to your lips. He takes it out of your hand in a smooth gesture, draining it and shoving it back into your hand as he walks into your apartment.

“I wish,” he mutters, pausing to light a cigarette and helping himself to a glass of scotch from your bar. “I was late at the embassy; a knot needed untangling that had ‘CIA’ written all over it. The Castaño brothers seem to think you’ll hand them the whole country.” You top up your wine, smirking at him over the rim of the glass.

“You have a very misguided perception of what we do, Agent Peña. It’s not all toppling governments and hobnobbing with dictators.” Sitting on the armchair across from him, you tip your glass in a mock toast.

He sits with his legs spread apart, the tight jeans hiding absolutely nothing as he watches you. The silver-blue haze of his cigarette smoke hangs in the air between you, giving his features a strangely soft edge.

“Well, if anyone could find common ground with a dictator it would be you.”

“And yet, you’re here. What does that say about you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. It almost always starts this way. The two of you can’t seem to help needling at one another, determined not to let a jab go unanswered. He’s too holier-than-thou for your liking sometimes, pretending that the DEA’s hands are so much cleaner than that of the CIA.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the two of you discovered that all that tension somehow translated into pretty phenomenal sex.

“It says that payday is at the end of the month, and I can’t afford my usual.” Peña says, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Besides, you buy the good stuff.” He drinks more of his drink, pulling the ashtray closer with his free hand. You appreciate that even though he doesn’t particularly like you, he draws the line at ruining your rug.

“What can I say, I appreciate quality.” You say nonchalantly. “Which is why you’re here right now, and not some random stranger who couldn’t find a clitoris with a map.”

“We all have our talents. Are you going to sit over there all night? Even I might have trouble finding it from that far away.” He says it casually, but you know him well enough by now to pick up on the undercurrent of need in his voice.  He’s not alone. That annoyingly familiar need had been making itself known in the pit of your stomach all night, that insistent itch that only Agent Javier Peña could really scratch.

You uncurl from the armchair, setting your wine down on the table. Javier looks up at you with those beautiful dark eyes as you settle into his lap. The seams of your dress strain to accommodate his body between your thighs, and you swear you hear a few stitches popping.

Up close, you can breathe the scent of him in. The leather of his jacket and the tobacco of his cigarettes mixes with something heady and masculine and him. You have no other word for it. You imagine that it would sell like crazy if somebody managed to bottle it as a cologne.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, looping your arms around his neck. He nods, eyes trailing down your body, lingering on the neckline of your dress.

“The view has improved.” He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast where your dress leaves it exposed. His moustache prickles the sensitive skin, his lips quick to soothe the scratch.

Your fingers slide into his thick hair. He’s still holding his glass and his still-lit cigarette, so after a moment he pulls away.

“I’d rather not light your rug on fire,” he says, leaning around you to flick the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. With his now-free hand, he cups one of your breasts, squeezing gently. “You should wear dresses like this more often.”

“I’m sure that’d go down really well at work,” you tease, sucking in your breath as he hooks his index finger into the neckline, tugging it down further. The lace of your bra peeks out, the red vivid against the black of your dress.

Peña ducks his head again, trailing more kisses across the newly-exposed skin. Every brush of his lips is only making you wetter, even if he’s not doing much to encourage it. Bastard.

Though it’s not wholly unfair. You can feel him starting to harden underneath you, and you can’t help rocking your hips against him in encouragement. He nips at the curve of your breast, before leaning back.

“Take your dress off.” He gives you a little nudge with his hand, as if he wants you off his lap.

“So bossy, Peña,” you sigh, letting your nails scratch his scalp. You feel the shudder that runs through him, but he’s persistent.

“You like it when I’m bossy. Get up, and take your dress off.” He’s right. He might not know how you like your coffee or when your birthday is. But if there’s one thing Javier Peña knows, it’s what you like in bed.

You slide off his lap reluctantly, standing in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. While he finishes the dregs of his drink, Javier runs his eyes over you. There’s something so hungry in that look, like he’s deciding where to begin with a delicious feast.

The dress zips in the back, and you have to twist awkwardly to catch at the tab. With another man, it might make you feel self-conscious. But with Javier, all you can see is the want in him. The fabric loosens around your shoulders as you undo the zip, and you shrug the dress off in one fluid motion.

Peña casts an appreciative eye over your lingerie, leaning forward in his seat. When he reaches to set his glass down on the coffee table, he shifts so close that his hair nearly tickles your abdomen. A soft, disappointed sound escapes you when he doesn’t touch you, when he doesn’t take the opportunity to haul you back into his lap. Instead he just looks up at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Gorgeous,” Javier murmurs, almost to himself. With one last lingering sweep down your body, he stands up. There’s barely an inch between you, your calves bumping against the edge of the coffee table as you shift back to accommodate him.

“Take me to bed?” You ask. Peña doesn’t say anything for a moment. One of his large hands comes up to cradle your jaw with a gentleness that never fails to surprise you. His fingers are warm on your skin, and you find yourself melting into his touch once more.

“Bed,” he agrees, his thumb gently sweeping over your lower lip before his hand drops back to his side. You lead him towards your bedroom, even though he knows the way by now. He’s been here more times than you can count.

At the threshold of your bedroom, Javier loops his arms around your waist. Your back moulds against his chest, his nose brushing your temple as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Do you want the belt tonight?” He murmurs, and you nearly melt into a puddle at his feet. The belt is something Javier indulges you in occasionally. He’d drawn a hard line at bringing his handcuffs into the bedroom. The two of you had compromised with softer things; a silk scarf, his ties, a pair of stockings. And, of course, his belt.

“Yes please.” Your eyelashes flutter closed as Javier presses soft kisses down the line of your neck, humming contentedly against the skin. His clever fingers have your bra undone before you realise he’s moved his hands, and you let him slip it off you without complaint.

One of his hands moves to your waist, encouraging you to turn around. Every brush of his fingertips sends more warmth pooling in your core, the gentle brushes of his skin against yours making you shudder. Without him having to ask, you offer him your wrists.

Peña takes his belt off with one hand, a move that you’re almost certain he’s practised. It’s so attractive that you don’t even tease him about it. Instead, you find yourself taking a shaky breath as he loops the soft leather carefully around your wrists.

You could slip out with ease if you wanted to – it’s part of the reason Javier agreed to the belt as a compromise when you’d asked him to tie you up. You’re at a loss to explain why the buttery leather around your wrists makes you feel so good. Satisfied that it’s not too tight around your wrists, Javier gives you a small, but unmistakable, smile.

With a gentle push of his hand on your waist, Javier encourages you backwards until you’re lying on the bed, your arms stretched above your head.

“Que bonita,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs. He’s still fully clothed, aside from his belt, and it makes you feel more exposed by comparison. One of his warm palms slides up your leg, squeezing the inside of your thigh before coming to rest agonisingly close to your core.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” One of his fingers brushes against your core, making you jump. “You’ve soaked your pretty panties.” The edge in his voice makes you whimper, your legs falling further apart for him. He slides your underwear off with ease, and before you can catch your breath, the warm heat of his mouth envelops your clit.

It’s nearly painful, how good it feels. His full lips wrap carefully around the bud of nerves, applying just enough pressure to make you wail. Your head is spinning with the pleasure of it, your world shrinking down to your body and Javier’s mouth. You clutch at the pillows above your head, moaning with abandon. Fuck your neighbours. If they knew Javier Peña, they’d understand.

He lets go of your clit and nuzzles against your slick folds, his tongue lapping hungrily at your flesh. The noises he’s making are obscene, muffled groans mixing in with the wet sounds of his mouth.

Then, as abruptly as he’d started eating you out, he stops. The loss of his mouth is devastating, and you’re about to wail at the unfairness when his hand slides up your body. His warm palm forms a loose necklace about your throat as he looks down at you, his chin wet with your slick.

“If I let you come while I eat your pussy, do you promise to let me make you come on my cock too?” He asks. He’s entirely serious; you’ve never met anyone who takes pleasure quite so seriously.

“God, yes. Knew I did the right thing by calling you,” you tell him, practically slurring your words. He gives you that smile again, a gleam in his eye as he trails kisses down your body.

“You can always call me, baby.”

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Hi, could I request for a Lady Tamayo!Reader paired with Buddha?

This reader was revived by Brunhilde to be the doctor for the 13 champions and she's loyal (not too loyal) to her bc she saved her from her punishment from being a demon.

The scenario would be that they met when she treated him after his fight and they got to know each other after that?

Please and thank you

Here it is! Special thanks to @nixes-noxes for proofreading/editing to make sure that the characters weren’t OOC. Enjoy and have a lovely day/evening!

Warnings: manga spoilers

Buddha was…a difficult patient. Despite all of the odds that were stacked against him in his fight with Zero, he won. Yet his victory for humanity isn’t an excuse to sneak out of his room to bask underneath the canopy of his bodhi tree and enjoy a passing breeze with sun shining down from the sky.

That is one of the reasons why Brunhilde had summoned Lady [First Name] [Last Name] from Helheim despite being a demon; before she had been killed by Muzan after drugging him with an elixir during their confrontation in the Infinity Castle, Lady [First Name} had been a doctor. Together with her companion Yushiro, she helped as many humans as she could with their alignments,including those who had been afflicted with Muzan’s poisonous blood and became flesh-eating demons.

In retrospect, dying to give the Demon Slayers a chance to destroy the man who had ruined her human life wasn’t a terrible thing…but Lady [First Name] had not expected to wake up in a dark wasteland teeming with demons that were just as dangerous, if not more, than the demon king himself. It was through sheer dumb luck that she had survived for so long until the Valkyrie had brought from her ‘punishment’ and offered her the position of being humanity’s chief physician in the medical wing.

It did not take the young woman very much time to give Brunhilde an answer. At this point anything was better than being stuck in Helheim. Disinfecting wounds, monitoring a patient’s health, and making sure that they are being properly fed? Yes. She can do that.

But the demon did not recall that being the ‘chief physician’ also meant chasing after a stubborn god.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lady [First Name] walked up the steep grassy hill as best as she could in her [Favorite Color] kimono and zori sandals till she was standing right behind Buddha, munching on snacks that she specifically recalled telling him to cut back on until he was ready for the next stage of his treatment.

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, my lord?”

“Should ya even be surprised anymore, doc?” Buddha snarked back, unwrapping a candy bar and throwing it in his mouth. “Besides, do you really believe I’d miss an opportunity to get some fresh air?”

She frowned. “I never said that there was a problem with being outside, Lord Buddha. In fact, it is supposed to improve your sleep, cognition, and overall well-being rather than being confined indoors all of the time. I did, however, say that you can but it would be in everyone’s benefit to inform myself or the staff that you wish to go outside instead of sneaking out. Lady Brunhilde was quite upset when she came to the medical wing earlier this afternoon to find out that you were…missing.”

“Bruni will be fine, she’s a lot tougher than she looks, believe me. Let her focus on the eighth round. I might have won but we still need more wins if the gods’ll leave the humans alone. More importantly,” He glanced over his shoulder, a single aquamarine orb staring right at her. “Do I even know you?”

Lady [First Name] tilted her head, staring at him for a moment before smiling softly. It appears that Lady Brunhilde was not joking when she had casually mentioned just how laid-back Buddha is…or simply doesn’t give a shit about anyone. The Valkyrie’s words, not hers, thank you very much. But being a doctor secretly researching demonic transformations or performing blood transfusions did not have its own issues. She also had to handle human patients too. Inhaling a deep breath through her nostrils, she calmed her anger before answering Buddha.

“All you need to know is that my job is to ensure the mental and physical health of all humanity’s champions, Lord Buddha. It goes against my oath as a doctor to force a patient to do something against their will. In this scenario, however, I offer…an ultimatum.” She paused, staring at the blonde-haired deity. Since Buddha didn’t interrupt nor look away, the demon took this as a cue to elaborate.

“I will speak to the staff and allow you to lounge outside here or in the greenhouse until a fixed time. When that time is up, you must return to your room and rest. Yes, this is a curfew, but this is the best that I can offer you right now. You may no longer be in critical condition, though there is a chance that your health or recovery might have some setbacks.”

She could tell immediately that Buddha wasn’t too thrilled with this restriction. No one likes having someone hovering over their shoulder or counting down the minutes until they have to go back to their room when all they want is a little time to themselves before running through medical tests for the nth time of the day.

“Is there any chance you can include snacks-”

“That will be taken into consideration once your bloodwork comes back, Lord Buddha.” Lady [First Name] chuckled, witnessing one of the most powerful gods pouting petulantly like a child. Shaking her head, she decided to do something that she hadn’t done in all of her years of practicing medicine: she sat next to him under the bodhi tree, paying no heed to getting grass stains on her kimono as she stared up at the floating islands of Valhalla in comfortable silence.

He did not say anything….that was progress. Maybe?

[wynnyfryd]

“You ever heard of the Easter demon?” Steve asks casually around a mouthful of hard-boiled egg.

“Huh?” Eddie asks, looking up just in time to see Max flick Steve on the back of the head and say, “You’re supposed to be coloring those eggs, asshole, not eating them.”

“This one was broken!” Steve protests, and wow, he must really be going soft. Didn’t even sass her for the language this time.

Eddie dunks his own egg into a cup of blue food coloring, sucking a stray splash of the bright liquid off his thumb. “What’s this about the seasonal occult?”

“You would be into Steve’s dumb scary stories, you nerd,” Erica snarks.

“Can you not say ‘occult’ so loudly?” Mike throws a worried look over his shoulder. “My mom, like, just agreed to let you start coming to our house again.”

“Right, fine,” Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses himself in the wrong direction. “Steve, you were saying?”

“Mm, yeah. My cousin told me about it when I was a kid. Said if you took black-dyed eggs out to that old cave in the woods off Freeling Road and left them as an offering, you could summon a monster. Big freaky bunny thing with fangs or some shit.”

He pauses to take a sip of water, get the egg yolk out of his mouth. “I don’t know, man. I mean, he was always trying to spook me; I’m just curious if it was a local folktale or if he totally made it up.”

Eddie chews the edge of his fingernail, the vague outline of a really fucking stupid prank forming in his mind. “Oh,” he says solemnly, “that’s all true, actually.”

“Fuck off,” Steve laughs.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, eyes going wide. He kicks Robin under the table. “Robin, back me up here.”

“Huh—? That’s—” Her eyes catch on his, and he does his best to silently communicate ‘Buckley, you owe me so hard for stalling Vicky at the shop the other day so you could flirt with her for half an hour.’

Message received, because Robin’s face goes all drawn and serious, and she lets her hand shake a little as she dips her egg in the pink dye. “I mean, after everything we’ve seen? I’d believe anything.”

“You could always go investigate,” Dustin says, ever the little scientist, and see, this is why he’s Eddie’s favorite.

“What do you say, Stevie boy? Wanna go hunt a killer Easter bunny?”

[pristine-rose]

I yet live! This frickin bakery job is so dang tiring! But sneaking cookies and getting free cheesecake makes it worth the pain!!

Hmm thoughts of odd match-ups for threesomes... heh, could go for two chronically very rough lovers, at least in my mind.

Kujou Sara is a dom who demands obedience, plain and simple, she isn't much a fan of keeping a brat in check, she wants you to be her good girl, and will take you over her knee as many times as it takes to ensure you become her good girl.

Rosaria on the other hand doesn't mind the idea of taming a little brat, but is often to tired to deal with the attitude, so she more often then not meets even the slightest beatty behavior with swift punishment so she can just relax with her little pet.

Together they can be vicious, normally they just enjoy basking with one another and their sweet little girlfriend tucked nice and comfy in between them. Soaking in one anothers warmth and just relaxing from a long day working soldiers through drills, avoiding attending church functions, and just being away from home.

However, when you are feeling a little more disobedient, like it just sounds like so much fun to push buttons, things change. It's not uncommon for Sara to come home first, check in on you immediately, and realize right away that you are being naughty. Whether she comes in to find you touching yourself without permission, maybe she asked you to clean a little and it still isn't done, or maybe you gave her some snark when she entered the room.

Silence is all she gives you, silence and a dead pan stare, offering you this one chance to apologize and be her good girl again. Of course you don't take it, cause you don't always make the best decisions in life. And you would swear its like lightning struck with how fast Sara crossed the room and had you pinned to a wall with her hand around your neck. Brows furrowed and eyes sharp as she leans in close to whisper how you should have just been obedient.

Hours later when your other girlfriend comes home, screaming echoes from the shared bedroom. Rosaria walks in to find you with her hands tied over your head, eagerly grinding against the very tip of Sara knee as she lashes a flogger over your ass, your thighs, anywhere it can reach, your hoarse and sore voice pleading and begging to please just be allowed to come just once, just one little orgasm. Your answer just being the next lash.

Its very easy for Rosaria to know what happened, and she knows better then to try and lessen the severity of your punishment. Instead opting to greet her other girlfriend, the two taking about their days as if you aren't even there, as if you aren't sobbing loudly not even feet away from them. Just as casually she will ask Sara what you did, no matter what the answer or how big or small your disobedience, Rosaria never tells her to be softer on you, no no no, she loves to see you like this just as much.

And its just a little bit too late for your brain to catch on that Rosaria is home before the searing hot feeling that burns all across your skin, is suddenly interrupted with the slow drag of icey cold fingers. Rosaria dragging her touch across your skin from your waist, up between your breasts, along the curve of your throat, and resting delicately over your cheek. Her voice husking in your ear as she practically purrs about how nice it is to see a bad girl being put in her place. Her cold fingers dragging back down, as she continues to prod at you with her words, teasing and cruel names pouring from her lips as her fingers just drag down lower and lower, resting at a stop just before reaching where you ache for her oh so badly.

And you can do your best to beg for forgiveness, though they will discuss with eachother about whether or not you deserve an orgasm at all, or just to be left denied the whole night, while the two of them enjoy as much as they want of everything that only good girls would get.

~🐁

OH MY GOD THERE IS RLY NOT MUCH I CAN ADD TO THIS, YOUVE DONE IT AGAIN

// not-sfw utc ~

i totally agree that this pair had too little patience for a brat. not to mention the fact that rosaria knows no forgiveness, and sara is familiar to only training—punishment is the only thing hanging by the tips of their fingers.

and by such fingers—to add onto previous punishments in which you detailed—are used to come crashing downwards in sets, right onto your red, battered ass along your cries. they’ve teased, they’ve overstimulated; but spanking is another thing these two love doing to you. it’s on particular moods, generally. it’s when they’ve r had a bay day, and their patience for you has run thinner then usual.

you’ll know the moment sara uses that grip of hers to pull you down, stomach sprawled over her legs, giving you no time to adjust before your pants are forcibly yanked down for her hand to come slapping down. and you’ll cry, you’ll wince, you’ll struggle to move, but she’s too strong.

rosaria is almost the same; but she’ll wear her metal rings just for you. even if she’s not wearing them that day, oh, don’t worry—she’ll put them on just for the occasion. she likes the way the intents of her metal make temporary marks on your skin, it leaves her little design there.

and on days they go at you at the same time? best to only imagine <3

AYO HAND OVER THE FREE CHEESECAKE 🤲

& similarly i get free cookies at my work, too !!

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 7 - Prompt: Beloved @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 489 words.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Some people were content to observe the world as it circled around them, rather than engage with it. Regulus might be one of those people, but James wasn’t.

The longer he watched Regulus’s controlled, elegant choreography, the more he wanted to try it for himself. James wasn’t particularly graceful, but he was drawn to the rhythmic swish of Regulus’s hips to a beat that he couldn’t hear. When Sirius trailed off to the side of the rink, James redirected toward the centre.

He didn’t want to interrupt him, so he circled closer gradually until Regulus noticed. Once they made eye contact, James sped up and slipped in behind him. He followed Regulus’s lead and did his best to mimic the skater’s steps as they skated backwards in looping circles.

After a few turns, Regulus’s hips stiffened and his entire body tensed. James frowned, thrown off by the shift. He backed off to give the skater more room to move, but it didn’t seem to help.

Suddenly, Regulus skidded harshly on the ice. He swivelled around so fast that James didn’t have time to react and he crashed hard onto his bum. Staring up at the furious glare of Regulus Black made James feel rather small and bug-like.

“What are you doing?” he snapped.

James offered an apologetic grin and held out his hand. “Trying your routine. It’s harder than it looks.”

Regulus scoffed, “You’re lucky I didn’t knock you flat for invading my path.”

“I mean, you kind of did.”

“That’s not my fault, you fell.”

James inhaled deeply and tried again. “Look, I’m sorry. I figured you could use a partner and-”

“Pardon?”

He scrunched his face when he heard how that came out. “I didn’t mean that you needed one, of course. Just that if you wanted one, I was available.”

“I skate alone.”

“Oh, alright.” James dropped his hand to his lap when it was clear that Regulus had no intention of helping him. “Got it.”

Regulus pulled his ear buds out and rolled them in his hand like dice. He still looked uncomfortable, and his voice was distinctly annoyed when he whispered, “Stand up. People are staring.”

“Yeah, right.”

James hauled himself upright and brushed off his bum. When he was steady on his skates again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and slid away as casually as possible.

“If you change your mind, I’m still available,” he tossed out with a half-hearted laugh.

The incredulous expression on Regulus’s face was answer enough. Any progress that he thought he’d made earlier was well and truly gone now. He was back at square one. Or, potentially negative one.

“Smooth. Really bloody smooth,” a girl snarked as she skated by, rolling her eyes.

James nodded and headed for the boards. Perhaps Regulus had the right idea after all. He would have been better off observing from afar instead of succumbing to his beloved zeal for action.

Next Part >>>

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Gotta say, I'm surprised and incredibly happy with how much y'all seemed to enjoy the first chapter! Don't know what I was so nervous about lol.

Right, as promised, chapter 2, and more soon to follow!

It would take some time after breakfast was already made and eaten before Frank felt ready to leave on their ill-fated grocery trip, continuously finding excuses to delay in little busywork around the house. Some cleaning here, reorganizing shelves of books, and gee I'm sure I must've left the oven on!

It couldn't be put off forever though. Eventually, he knew, Eddie would come back from his business, and Frank had to know before then. There'd be no leaving the house under the watchful eye of their beloved husband, no avoiding his questions when he spoke in that sweet, caring tone of voice. Frank loved the man, in part because of how deeply cherished he made them feel in return. It'd be cruel to hide the truth from him (if truth's what it was) and let him continue to think his lover was merely sick. Getting dressed for the day (he'd not be seen outside in PJs!) they donned a mask as well- for posterity's sake, and in case he really was contagious after all. Better safe than sorry.

After all of that, and with the heavy weight of finality in their chest, Frank stepped out through back door of the house and made his way towards Howdy's shop.

They knew by now that Eddie would've come and gone from there, likely voicing his concerns over Frank's current health to the resident shopkeep. Oh well, if Howdy gave him lip for being outside while sick, they had no trouble telling him to stuff it.

He was busy stocking shelves when Frank came in, hardly pausing when he saw them but still offering a chuckle. "Mornin' Frank, you look like shit." It was a friendly tradition between the two by now, and normally Frank would've responded with a roast of his own. But they had little energy for such things at the moment, his mind too tangled up in fears and what-if worries to try for an insult. Luckily, the bug did seem to get the message, and Frank could quickly slip unseen past the corner and into the pharmacy aisle.

There they were, the dreaded purple boxes. The thing that would soon decide his fate. Frank thought briefly about why their town's store would stock this many- there were only a few womb-havers here, and even fewer who'd realistically ever put the thing to use. Still, suppose they were there just in case. Just gotta grab one, they thought. Grab and b-

Buy it. Frank would need to buy the thing from Howdy. The idea had seemed doable in the abstract, but now that they were here...he couldn't do it. Having to look him in the eye, face his questions, try to make jokes...Frank swallowed hard, fighting the rising lump of bile. But he couldn't just walk out without it!

Glancing around quickly, they pressed himself close to the shelf, silently praying forgiveness for what he was about to do. A box was torn open at its seal, the contents swiftly stuffed into the waistline of their pants, and the empty shell stuffed behind the others as discreetly as he could manage.

His heart was racing with nervous excitement. They'd never stolen anything before. Should he just walk out like this? No no, surely that's too suspicious. Grabbing a bottle of cold medicine as pretense for being in that aisle, Frank walked through the rest of the shop as casually as he could manage, even as their mind screamed at each passing second.

Bunch of bananas (on sale!)

A loaf of bread.

Some cheese.

Four things was enough, right? Just a normal quick trip to the store, nothing weird with that. Nothing strange, he'd done nothing wrong.

The caterpillar had long since finished up restocking when Frank approached his counter, the normal indescribable level of snark in his eyes as he watched them. "All set?" he said, taking a look in the basket. "Not much today, eh?"

Frank let out a noise meant to be non-commital and bored, but ended up sounding more like they were suffering from stomach pain. Still, it worked somehow, earning little more than a raised eyebrow from the taller. "Yeesh, you do look terrible," he said, all teasing aside for a second as he spoke in genuine concern. "Tell ya what, I won't ask for a joke this time- tell me a fact. Know you're good for that, won't be hard on your noggin."

Oh if only you knew, Frank thought miserably, how hard everything is for me right now.

He racked their brain for a moment, trying to think of a fact he'd not told Howdy before. They'd told him plenty, it was after all the scientist's favorite activity. But for as many as had been told, Frank knew at least a dozen more.

"D-did you know that butterflies can't fly...if their body temperature is below 80 degrees?"

They tried to let his mind fall into the familiar rhythm of infodumping.

"Or no, wait, i-it was 65 I think. The uhh...the mucles don't..."

It didn't work.

Howdy seemed to mull over what Frank was saying, a comedically exaggerated look of concentration across his features. Frank had always hated that, how he and Barbie never seemed to take anything seriously even though there was plenty of serious stuff in their lives. What they hated even more though, was what happened next.

"So what if it's warmer than that? Does that mean more flight?"

Frank's heart sank. Oh no. He's got follow-up questions. On any other day they would've relished the chance to share more information. Now though, it felt like agony, the clock still ticking and ticking fast. "I think..." he started, but their mind was drawing blanks, stuck like a broken record on the singular thought of Oh God get me the fuck out of here. "I..."

Just then, sounds of the shop's only doors jangling open rang out from behind them, along with the cheerful-if-monotone call of "hello my lovely neighbors!"

Wally. Wally, the beautiful, darling little demon. Frank could almost have hugged the man if they weren't still pretending(?) to be sick. If anything at all could convince Howdy to take focus off of the grey, it would be the appearance of his boyfriend.

And sure enough, he did, a hand gently shoving Frank back with their groceries as the bug locked lips and eyes with his little man. Frank made a noise of pretended offense at this, though truth be told they were overjoyed for an opportunity to seize. "I'll take my leave since you two are clearly busy," he said, earning quick looks of embarassment (mostly from Wally.) Heart still racing and with a carefully measured step to avoid jostling free their secret "purchase", Frank walked through the door and headed home, praying they'd get there before Eddie did.

[lord-squiggletits]

MegOP questions *3 (and great news that you're feeling a bit more like writing them again, though it transpires that I do also love your Pharma...):

(a) what's an in-joke between the two of them; the sort of thing that will make one of them smile for what seems like no reason from the outside?

(b) your idea of M very subtly teasing OP and turning him on really gets to me; I suspect neither one is as discreet as they think, though, so what does that look like from the outside?

(c) You've argued in the past that OP makes on-page peace offers: what's your guesstimate for why they don't work out, at least early in the war?

(A) In-jokes between them:

Honestly, I've sat here for a while at a loss of how to answer this lol, I'm not really good at coming up with inside jokes since (naturally) I'd need some sort of context or specific events to references that would make them HAVE material for "inside" jokes specifically.

I suppose Chaos Theory's conceit always works: they reminisce a lot over all the ways they've nearly killed each other, and (to add a bonus for the next question) other people find this particularly shocking to watch Optimus participate in, since he's supposed to have a more dignified, anti-violence aspect to himself. I suppose that just means that Optimus' responses to Megatron's jabs are way more subtle in the references they make, giving the impression that they're playing a game together but Optimus is the one keeping his composure while Megatron has the goal of breaking it (even if it's just to make Optimus laugh at something impolite or snark back in irritation).

(B) Outside view of elaborate courtship rituals:

I think depending on the person, it's variable as to how much they perceive the flirting happening and whether they notice the sexy vibes to it.

A lot of the times I'd say people do notice (the only people who don't would be like, complete neutrals like Camiens and other colonists), but they don't get more than a sense that Megatron and Optimus are having some sort of silent conversation expressed entirely through pointed stares and paperwork. I'm sure that to even casual onlookers, it's very obvious that M and OP talk/interact in a way that's clear they're having whole invisible conversations.

As for people who perceive the more flirtatious elements? It's honestly variable because I have different Schrodinger's headcanons about Megatron and Optimus' sexual behavior/vibes depending on the specific scenario I want to write. But I suppose in general I'd go from the perspective of "Megatron and Optimus have sexual tension, but they still behave with decorum publicly and keep such personal things to private places." I think there'd actually be a decent mix of people who know them well and perceive/don't perceive the sexual intent going on, as well as vice versa. I'm pretty sure High Command on both sides recognizes it and finds it incredibly annoying (Prowl, Starscream, Soundwave) and Optimus has at least one personal friend (Ratchet, also Ironhide but that's less explored in IDW) who knows him well enough to know when he's being stupid as hell. Megatron on the other hand has few to no personal relationships, much less lets his emotions show, so I think he has the advantage in that people don't perceive Megatron as the kind of person that has feelings/desires and so they don't notice as a result.

But the subtle and elaborate courtship rituals probably become more obvious whenever Optimus has a visibly irritated/flustered vibe and Megatron looks unusually smug/satisfied. I imagine it leaves people equally bewildered as they are grossed out; bad enough that Megatron and Optimus were flirting publicly to begin with, but they were doing it with such weird, tiny signs that they were doing it right in front of other people? During meetings and conversations? And the onlookers just have to deal with the fact that M and OP constantly bounce off silent/invisible flirtations at all times? The psychic damage...

(C) OP's peace offers and why they didn't work:

I imagine the biggest sticking point was on foreign policy related to colonization and dealing with organics. For all his flaws and evil, I do think Megatron genuinely believed that there was no peace to be found with organics and that the best thing for Cybertron would be to preemptively attack and grow Cybertron's power. OTOH, Optimus is completely opposed to such imperialistic methods even if they would have the benefit of helping out Cybertron's homeland security. Setting aside the obviously moral choices, I think purely in terms of policy, OP and M wouldn't be able to compromise on that: OP wouldn't be able to accept continued/worsening bad relationships with the galactic community, and M wouldn't be able to accept leaving Cybertron to languish/decay for the sake of appeasing other species/empires who hate them. Even before Cybertron was made completely uninhabitable, from the early days of the war resource scarcity was a huge deal, and population exodus severely cut Cybertron's manpower down, so I think a lot of peace treaties would fall apart sheerly on the basis of Megatron and Optimus not being able to agree on what the goals/policies/actions of a unified Cybertron should be.

Then there's also the pre-war tensions of the issues with Optimus being a Prime, lots of the Autobots being part of the existing government that the Decepticons rebelled against, even the New Institute being a thing still thanks to Prowl. Then the crimes the Decepticons committed, not only against organics (which as mentioned before, M would be pissed about crimes towards organics being weighed as equal to crimes against Cybertronians) but also their flagrantly destructive and reckless actions as individuals (since Megatron regularly employs and encourages soldiers that do crazy shit like blow up energon refineries, start gladiator death pits, and just randomly attack whole planets for the fun of it). Negotiations would MAJORLY fall apart in that regard: if they reconcile, who gets punished and who doesn't? Who gets to keep their leadership positions and who doesn't? What about the fact that both factions have hair-trigger tempers and will perceive every suggestion of punishment as an attempt by the other faction to dominate them or punish them disproportionately?

I know that's all just political stuff and not really MegOP in the sense of personal interactions, but given who M and OP are as people, I think the political differences are fundamental to however their personal relationships could/would develop, since not only are they tied to their personal convictions as people, but political policy is also tied to the obligations they have towards their respective armies (countries, in a sense). I mean, OP not wanting to compromise on organics is tied to his beliefs related to freedom and equality, and M not wanting to collaborate with Autobots is tied to his trauma and political beliefs concerning the previous regime. Though it is interesting to consider whether M and OP coming to a peace agreement would happen because of changing personal beliefs allowing them to compromise on policy, or if compromises on policy force them to adopt new routines which then slowly change their worldviews in order to deal with it?

[aewinning]

We’re nearly to the end of another creative year! Tell us about some of the favourite fics you’ve written this year and why :3 likewise, do you have any fics you really enjoyed reading and following this year? 🐾

Favorite fics I wrote in 2024

I didn't write a ton this year, but I'll pick my favorite I did for each fandom! (And that's a highlightable factoid while we're here - my first two Star Rail fics were published this year! Thank you Sunday for the inspiration, even if you bled me dry for E2S1. You were worth it, king.)

Fave Genshin fic I wrote this year was One Size Fits All - Wriothesley/Clorinde/Neuvillette kink exploration and friends with benefits (the benefits are fisting). I was happy with the laid-back, casual voice I developed for Wrio and I really love the visual of Clorinde methodically wrecking him while he clutches desperately onto Neuvillette, half-incoherent with overstimulation. (Which was the thought that inspired the fic in the first place.)

My favorite Star Rail fic of the two I've written is don't tell me it's wrong - Sunrobin with heavy religious imagery, Sunday smothering under his guilt, and Robin as his light in the dark, keeping him off the misguided path he takes in canon. It's not for everybody but it's certainly for me, and I think people can tell when you write something self-indulgent with your whole pussy, because I've gotten a surprising amount of love for it despite the darker topics and taboo nature. I've thought about and analyzed Sunday enough that I sink into his headspace terrifyingly easily at this point, and I feel like that translated into a very good Sunday voice and characterization. I was happier with this fic than I've been with a fic in years, probably, because despite the fact that it has so much porn in it I feel like it's also one hell of a character study.

2024 Fic Recs!

I'd be remiss not to include some of your fics and I think my faves this year were late night snack (Azhdaha/Xiao/Zhongli) which was itself a delightful sweet new year's snack of its own involving three characters I love and had never seen as a trio, and but first, coffee, which is a feast of delightful Kaveh and Alhaitham interaction. Alhaitham is such an asshole sometimes and Kaveh is so stubborn and such a good man and you write that so well ♥️

Lately I'm really enjoying the WIP (falling) feels like flying by notavodkashot, featuring ballet instructor Zhongli and caretaker-of-many-siblings Childe growing closer and entering a very sexy D/s relationship. Guizhong is also there with her very delightful polycule, forming a delightfully snarky peanut gallery.

A rare completely SFW pick is A Snail is "A Foot" by Lee_Outis, which is about Kaveh being chased by a very slow snail that can kill instantly on contact. It is very much worth the read even if you usually go for spicy fic.

An ongoing longer fic that I'm still reading and enjoying as it comes out is testing, testing by Lithopus. Kaveh finds Alhaitham reading a book about kinks and, in a fluster, Kaveh offers to help Alhaitham try various kinks. It's at 4/12 planned chapters and over 100k already, and absolutely packed with delightful dynamics, snark, relationship development, and blisteringly hot sex already.

Eggs? Eggs. I know everybody expects me to put an egg fic on the rec list. And this one doesn't technically have eggs, but it is heavily egg-centered regardless: a good servant shall lay eggs by cutieterrarium, featuring Ajaw fattening Kinich up in order to lay eggs in him (wait don't go! *drags you back*) Ajaw doesn't get to use his pixel dick and there are no actual eggs in the fic, but it did the impossible and made me view Ajaw as sexy which. Good fucking job. Plus I'm not usually into feederism but the way it was pulled off here as dragon courtship behavior was really fun and, dare I say it, even a bit cute.

The other Star Rail standouts that I can recall off the top of my head this year were all by DFP: - trick of the light, a Feixiao/Moze/Jiaoqiu OT3 fic where Feiqiu are established and they're feeling their way through adding Moze into the relationship in a way that keeps him comfortable. Fantastic Moze PoV. - All three Argenti/Boothill fics, which are absolute must-reads if you enjoy robofucking, wireplay, and miscellaneous other mechanical shenanigans. - The winner of my 'still re-reading' award, old fashioned lover boy, which was published last year but won't leave my mind. Caelus tries to seduce Welt, and poor Welt wallows in guilt, feeling like a dirty old man about it, before Himeko takes mercy on him and tells him he's allowed to just go for it if he wants to since they're both consenting adults. Caelus is the epitome of being horny about that old man, and grandpa gets ridden into the mattress as he deserves. Absolute peak.

There were lots of other fantastic fics I've read this year of course, but these are the first that came to mind.

TY for sending in the ask!

[mythals-whore]

Tell me about that Davrin WIP you got going! 💖

I’m so sorry I missed this!! Thank you for asking!

The Davrin WIP is solely based on (spoilers) the romance scene right before endgame where he has a line about “keeping it casual” and i decided to essentially write a fic where Davrook are basically friends with benefits (obviously they fall for each other)

For fun ig here is an excerpt below the cut

Davrin makes it all the way to the kitchen, hoping that enough dried meat and vegetables have been left out. It's not that Davrin much minds waking the assassin in the pantry, it's more so that he doesn’t have the energy for snark at the moment.

“Can’t sleep?”

The Warden starts, kicking himself for not scanning the room first. He turns to find Rook curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room. There’s a small stack of books on the table before her, and a quill twirls between her nimble fingers. A notebook is balanced against her thighs, and there's a smattering of parchment on the table and the floor.

“I see that I’m not alone,” he remarks rather gruffly, throat still thick with sleep.

She gives a small smile before her eyes fall back to the work at hand, “In the Lighthouse, you never are.”

Davrin smiles to himself as he pulls out some salted meat. Silence falls, marked by the occasional fluttering of Assan's wings, the scratch of Rook’s quill and the semi-regular scrapes of a kitchen knife on the butcher block. It’s nice, almost mundane.

He frowns over at Assan briefly before deciding to follow Taash’s advice. He adds a bit of yam to the dish, reasoning that it’s less offensive than broccoli. Hoping that maybe Assan’ll be too hungry to notice.

He sets the dish down for Assan, who leaps after it as though he really is starving. A cursory glance shows that Rook is now immersed in her work. What she could be working on is rather unclear, though with Rook he’s learned it’s always something. Studying Neve’s case notes, Taash’s dragon fighting tips and a combination of Bellara and Emmrich’s fade research. Not a woman who knows how to do nothing. It’s something he admires about her, even if it makes them all worry.

Davrin watches a moment longer, and then turns to the cabinet behind him, retrieving the decanter of amber liquid he knows will be there. Just an excuse, really.

“Can I tempt you?” He calls across the divide, and she glances up. She spies the whiskey in his hand, and she gives a bit of a sly smile.

Rook points to a clay mug amidst her other things on the table, “I’ve got it covered.”

“Doesn’t look like whiskey.”

She sighs, lifting the mug to take a sip. “Lucanis made me cioccolata calda. Said it would help me sleep. Apparently he’s worried I’m not doing that enough.” She scoffs at the obvious irony, but he spies a fond smile in the moments before the mug hides it from view.

“I’m sure he’s getting his beauty sleep,” Davrin drawls, just a hair too loud.

“He’s with Neve, actually.” she says slyly.

Davrin raises an eyebrow, “Not sleeping, then.”

“I should hope not.” Rook grins.

He crosses the space between them, pausing by the coffee table.

Her dark waves are pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, but several pieces of it have come loose around her face. From here, he can see the raised scar along her throat, his eyes snag on it for just a moment, curiosity eating at him. Her fingers are ink-stained, despite the Lighthouse’s self-inking quills—which they were all delighted to discover. The only light in the room comes from the hearth and an elf-lantern on the side table. Even in the darkness, the shadows under her eyes are prominent. She looks tired, but he knows that telling her to rest will do no good.

“Want some company?” He offers instead.

Rook sets her mug back on the table, glancing up only briefly. He suspects that she doesn’t really see him at all before she waves an airy hand, “You should get some rest.” She consults her notes and then retrieves an opened book lying face-down on the table.

He shakes his head at her, “Do you ever take a break?”

“Do you?” She challenges, arching an eyebrow at him.

“At least I sleep.”

Rook’s lips curl upward as her eyes fall back on the pages at hand, “Current circumstances would beg to differ.”

Davrin narrows his eyes. He can't exactly argue that point at this exact moment. “Well,” he sits on the opposite end of the sofa, pulling some of her notes toward him. “Seeing as I’m awake.”

The notes, after only a cursory glance, seem to be from the Crows—namely Teia. It's a list, everything that needs to be addressed after the dragon attack, everything they’ve failed to fix. One that’s far too long. Of the entire list, only Southern Gate is crossed out, which Davrin can only hope means that it’s been resolved.

There’s a second page in Rook’s own handwriting, the loops of her penmanship more delicate than he would have expected. This one is more than a list. There are a few titles listed, and then a note to ask Bellara to catalog Solas’s library. Questions about how the blight is spread, concerns about the taint spreading through the water, how to treat wounds from darkspawn without spreading the taint further. Seems as though Davrin’s the perfect person to help with this, not that she’d ever ask. The thought almost makes him smile.

“Assan keeping you up?”

Davrin snorts, “He certainly doesn’t help.” He frowns at the notes. Rolls his neck to escape the song still weaving its way between his ears, “But…no.”

One of the side effects of the taint, the nightmares. Davrin’s grown used to it. But recently…

In the past, the dreams were mostly visions of darkspawn hordes marching through the deep roads, digging, hissing—and always the song. Horrible in their own way, but such is the way of things. The nightmares always woke him, but more often than not, he only rolled over to go right back to sleep.

Recently though, the dreams have been different. The one that comes back most often is one where Davrin is sprinting through a forest. It's Arlathan, though he’s not sure how he knows it, because it never seems familiar. He has to cut down darkspawn, slips through blight pools and cuts himself free from the tendrils tearing at him. And he’s always hurtling toward Assan, whose cries of distress never get any closer.

He looks toward the hearth, where he knows Assan is, though he can’t see him.

“You know,” Rook says, “If I have to talk, I think you do, too.”

Davrin’s eyes slide over to her. Rook’s quill paused on a page. There’s a hint of amusement in the curve of her mouth, but her eyes are narrowed on him as if she can read him, too. But it isn’t the same. The nightmares, it’s just something he lives with. They’re just dreams.

“Should I go get some firewood?” she prompts.

Davrin snorts, “Why? So I can watch you struggle to split it some more?”

Rook’s mouth drops open in obvious shock and insult, but even that can’t hide the spark of amusement in her eyes, “I wasn’t exactly given much instruction. I think I did alright considering I've never had to split wood before.”

“Yeah,” he shoots her a dry look, but he can’t entirely hide his smirk, “That much was obvious.”

Rook kicks a foot at him, laughing. But Davrin catches her by the ankle and pulls until her back is on the cushion and she’s lost all leverage. She hadn’t done so terribly, though she’d struggled a great deal to extract the blade the first few times. But she hadn’t faltered nonetheless, and he respected that. Even if he had wanted to laugh, just a little.

Rook scowls at him, but she’s clearly struggling to contain her laughter, “Da’ava mamala,”

He stares at her for a long minute, perplexed.

Before this very moment, he’d never heard her speak elvhen, or even attempt it. Not that she’d had any reason to. Davrin didn’t speak it much himself anymore, hadn’t for years—save for with the occasional Dalish clan he ran across, or the even more rare Dalish Wardens.

Growing up in Tevinter, he’d assumed she wouldn’t know much of the language, if any. Though maybe that was a poor assumption on his part. Even in the cities, most elves spoke a bit of it—though he’s also heard that slave owners in Tevinter dislike it for obvious reasons. It occurs to Davrin that he knows very little about her life before all this. But then, he’s sure she’d hate it if he asked.

He pulls her closer to him by her ankle, and she does try to maintain her disdain as he slots himself between her legs, leaning over her with a grin. “Well that’s very rude.” He says, though he can only assume it was meant to be. “Where’d you learn that?”

She gives a satisfied little smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His eyebrows flick upward, “I would, actually. No one’s ever told me they wanted a little taste of my grandmother.” The laugh that he’d almost let out finally escapes at the flash of surprise over her face.

She frowns, “Kiss my ass?”

“Dhava ‘ma masa.” He corrects, grinning widely.

“It’s been a long time.” she winces.

Davrin hums his understanding, still amused, and wondering just how much elvhen she doesn’t know, “Then I take it Bellara didn’t teach you that.”

A roll of her eyes, “No.”

“Good,” he grins down at her, “You’re better off coming to me for the dirty stuff, anyway.”

They’re both still smiling in the moments before he slants his mouth over hers. The book on her lap slides to the floor, her notes crinkle between their bodies and the feather of her quill tickles the tip of his ear, sending a shudder down his spine.

Her legs wrap around his waist, and she rolls her hips against his once, like she can’t help it. One of his hands slides over the outside of her thigh until he has a handful of her ass. It’s been less than a day, and vaguely he’s aware that he shouldn’t want her this badly already. He trails kisses over her jaw, grazing his teeth over her earlobe in the way that makes her arch into him. Davrin licks and sucks his way down her throat, along the scar there.

He slides a hand between them, working the first two buttons of her shirt open.

“Not here.” she gasps, her legs still hooked around his waist, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Why not?” he murmurs against her throat.

It takes her a moment to respond, as though she almost doesn’t want to.

“I’m the boss.” she says at last, sounding resigned to it. Davrin pulls back enough to look at her. “I can’t be caught with my bits out.” He arches an eyebrow at her and she tries to stifle her grin. “I’ve made one exception. That’s more than enough.”

“Should we take this to my room then?” He offers, blood already warm and trousers growing tight. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to be inside her right now.

Rook laughs breathily, and then bites at the inside of her lip. She’s considering it, and he sees in her face that she’s going to give in. She needs a respite, anyway.

A squawk breaks through the haze, and Davrin groans, sitting back up to find Assan looking on reproachfully.

If, by some coincidence, this is familiar it may be because this chapter was already posted to ao3