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goaways-stuff · 2 years

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ABC's of Sex with Steven Grant

pairing: Steven Grant x gn! reader (mentions Marc and Jake x reader)

warnings: SMUT. LOTS OF IT. slight switch Steven and Reader, professor kink, hand kink, bondage, virgin! Steven, mentions of mental illness and DID, I believe there's some canon level violence, read at your own risk

Summary: A headcanon style fic about the diff aspects of sex with Steven Grant

A/N: I do not have DID myself, so of there is anything that I get wrong/ any harmful stereotypes please call me out. I have done research on DID and do my best to keep it both accurate to real life as well as the show. But I can still get things wrong, so don't hesitate to point anything out :) I also apologize for any writing mistakes

dividers by @firefly-graphics

A=Aftercare

(what he's like after the deed)

Steven is the king of aftercare. He's littering wherever he can reach with kisses, praising you, thanking you. "Fuck, darling, that was amazing, you're amazing," He'd say. If the two of you are up for it, he'll draw a warm bath. You'd bathe each other off, trading compliments and "I love you's." He would get you a little snack and a drink if you wanted, brushing light kisses over any marks he made, a silent apology even though he knew you loved the marks. If neither of you felt like taking a bath, he'd eventually pull himself away from you and return with two warm washcloths as well as a dry one. He'd clean himself off, then you before drying the both of you. He'd leave once more to put the washcloths in the hamper and return for a final time with water for the both of you. He'd slip back in bed with you, holding you tight, as if he was scared you'd go. You returned his praises from earlier, and the two of you traded many "I love you's" before drifting off to sleep.

B=Body Part

(favorite of his and favorite of yours)

Before meeting you, Steven didn't really have a favorite body part. He didn't really have an accurate picture of himself. He knew what he looked like, but things were just off. After meeting you, he'd truly come to sometimes love his looks. Specifically, his hands. Mostly due to your fascination with them. You'd stare at them as he talked, always holding them or fidgeting with his fingers, and he always let you. He also loved how his hands looked roaming your body, squeezing you ass, or bringing you to pleasure inside you. Honorable mention of his curls. He loves when you play with them and put them up into funny hairstyle and pull at them with his head between your legs.

Steven doesn't think he could answer what his favorite body part of yours is. If he was asked, he'd probably go on a long ramble, saying different body parts and the things he liked about each of them. Nope, he definitely could never choose. He loved your tummy, whether it be chubby or skinny or ripped- it didn't matter to him. He loved your thighs, how they squeezed his head when he would give you head. He loved to lie on his back and use them as pillows while reading on his bed or on the couch. He loves your eyes and how they sparkle when you tell a joke or talk about something your passionate about. He loves your smile, and he loves that very often, he's the cause of that smile. You neck, shoulders, ass, hips, nose, hair- you were perfect in every way to him. He could never ever choose.

C=Cum

(where, how much, what he's like, etc)

Steven is the most vocal of the three when he cums. He moaning, grunting, whining. He's praising you for how good you make him feel, how perfect you are. He'll cum wherever you want him to. Inside, in your mouth, on your face, chest, thighs- wherever. He loves all of them. He cums a lot, like you had never seen a bigger load. He was a bit embarrassed at first, but when you swallowed it all down after sucking him off, he actually became quite proud of it.

D=Dirty Secret

(what was he hiding from you until you found out yourself?)

He likes being in control sometimes. Steven spent his whole life being seen as a pushover, as someone people could walk all over, so when given the chance he will show you how much of a pushover he isn't. Don't get him wrong, he loves when you're more in control sometimes, but others he just wants to fuck you until you're crying his name. He wants to leave his marks on you. Who would ever guess that soft, ever so sweet Steven could be so dominant in bed?

E=Experience

(how much/ little does he have?)

You were Steven's first actually, he had been on some dates, but never anything past a makeout sesh. The first time was a bit awkward, but he was so eager to please you. He would ask what made you feel good, let you guide his hand, whatever he could do to learn. He caught on quickly, Steven was a fast learner after all.

F=Favorite Position

(self explanatory)

It's depends, if you're feeling more in control that day, he loves having you on top of him. Being able to see all of you, he loves being able to grab your ass and guide your hips down on him, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up into yours. If he is feeling more in control, he'll go for the good ole missionary. He just feels so close to you that way, it makes him feel in control. He can pin your arms down and fuck you a proper way into next Sunday. He can reach down and pleasure you more with his hand. He loves how you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He also loves seeing your face when you cum. Truly, what gets him off is you getting off. He relishes in your pleasure.

G=Goofy

(is he more goofy or serious in bed?)

Steven has definitely shared some more goofy moments with you in bed, much more than Marc and Jake ever have combined. He's a bit clumsy and has taken a few falls, gotten clothes stuck, and other moments that honestly embarrass him, but make you fall all the more in love with your favorite dork.

H=Hair

(does the carpet match the drapes?)

Since they all share the same body, it's the same for all of them, keep it trimmed and neat- only shaving for special occasions (anniversaries, birthdays, valentine's)

I=Intamacy

(what is his version of intamacy?)

Steven is the most intimate of the three. While Marc and Jake have come a long way, Steven has always had a deep intamacy with you. He's honest about things, wants to share all of what happened to him- tell you everything, and you do the same with him. He loves making love to you telling and showing you how much you mean to him. How much he loves and adores you. He loves hearing every little detail about your day, he'll read you to sleep, come up behind you while you're cooking and rant about how amazing you are. His intamacy extends much beyond the bedroom as it's something he's always longed for.

J=Jack Off

(how, when, where, why does he jack off, if he does?)

Before you, Steven was used to many lonely night with his hand. He would jack off sometimes to keep himself awake, imagining the touch of someone else there with him who loved him despite of what he thought at the time was his sleeping disorder. Now he has you, he doesn't need to jack off- at least by himself. Steven is a pretty big fan of mutual masterbation, but he can't ever keep his hands to himself for too long.

K=Kinks

(what's he into?)

Steven had never really explored his kinks until he met you. He discovered his praise kink, he loved hearing how good he was doing and he returned the same to you. He loves having his hair pulled and sometimes even being tied up. When he's in control, he found out he's what's called a "soft dom." He uses your own pleasure to dominate you, he asks nicely for you to do things for him. He had to admit, he loved seeing you tied up as well, completely at his mercy. He would tell you how pretty you looker for him. He would pleasure you until tears were streaming down your face. "Doing so good for me, baby, so so good. I'm so lucky to have such a sweet little angel, yeah?" Honestly, out of the three of them, you were the best for Steven. To Marc and Jake, you were a big time brat. Smarting off to them, directly disobeying their orders in order to get punished. But with Steven, he just always asked so nicely, making you easily bend to his will. Marc and Jake were honestly a but jealous sometimes about how easily you obeyed Steven, but they also wouldn't trade your brattiness for the world.

L=Location

(where's his favorite place to do it?)

Steven would do it nearly anywhere with you, but his favorite is just the plain old bed in his apartment. It's comfortable, easy to access, and he can fall asleep cuddling you after the deed in it. Though he has to admit, he loved fucking you spread out for him on his desk after you gave him head while he was stuck in a book for an ungodly amount of time.

M=Motivation

(what gets him going?)

Seeing you in his clothes. He had no idea how much that would turn him on. It had been laundry day for you, and you were out of clothes. Lucky for you, Steven's had just come out of the dryer. They were warm and smelled fresh and you found yourself throwing a sweater on with only your last pair of clean underwear. When Steven came home, he swore he nearly creamed his pants at the sight of you. That night, not much sleep was acquired by either of you, and ever since then Steven is constantly letting you wear his clothes, almost to the point where you no longer wear yours.

N=No

(what are his limits?)

Steven could never actually hurt you. He knows that some pain feels good to you, and he's more than willing to do that, but anything to harm you is a no for him.

O=Oral

(is he a giver? a taker?)

Steven is a giver. 100%. He will stay down there as long as you let. Like you will literally have to pull him off of you. He loves feeling your thighs on either side of his head, bringing you pleasure with his mouth. He loves hearing you moan and feeling your body twist and squirm with pleasure. As much as he loves the sights and feelings of you giving him head, he loves giving it to you more.

P=Pace

(how fast, slow, rough, or gentle is he?)

He will go at whatever pace you ask him to. If it's one of those nights where you just need to feel each other abd be in each other's embrace, he'll take it slower, make sweet love to you, show you how much he loves you. Bit as soon as you ask him to go harder or faster, he's right there with you, fucking you into next Sunday.

Q=Quickie

(how's feel about them?)

He's not the biggest fan of them as he prefers to savor the moment and spend as long with you as the both of you can take it, he knows that sometimes a quickie is all either of you can take or have time for. A quickie before a mission also always boosts his confidence.

R=Risk

(is he willing to get a little risky during the frisky?)

He's willing to do nearly anything for you and that includes taking risks in bed. Though, if things don't go exactly how planned, He's profusely apologizing, even if it wasn't his fault. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love Are you okay? Shit, I'm sorry. Lemme help you, yeah? You alright?" No matter how many times you tell him that you're okay and that it wasn't his fault he keeps checking in on you, and you can't help but feel so loved by your sweet boy.

S=Stanima

(How long can he go for?)

It completely depends. The first time you had sex, he came in his pants while you dry humped him. He just couldn't help it, you felt so good and looked so hot, it just happened. But he can also stave off his own pleasure and release for quite awhile. He'll work you up and make you cum until you see starts with his mouth, with his hands before finally sinking into. He loves to edge the both of you, stopping when either of you get close until you're both begging for release.

T=Toys

(does he own any for himself? for you?)

He never had any until he met you. With you though, he loves using them to aid in pleasuring you. Whether it be vibrators, cock rings for you or himself, dildos, literally anything you want- he will get it for you.

U=Unfair

(is he a tease?)

Steven is unfair without always knowing it. He talks with his hands and you can't help but watch as you remember how they feel inside you. He'll roll up his sleeves revealing his gorgeous forearms. Turn around and show off that gorgeous ass. He's such a turn on and most of the time he has no idea until you're literally jumping his bones about to lose your mind over how horny you are.

V=Volume

(how loud or quiet is he during the hanky panky?)

Steven is the loudest of the three, especially after learning how much his noises turn you on. You loves sucking him off and hearing his cries of pleasure. His whines of your name. You loved making him so desperate that he would finally lose some of his gentlemanliness and fuck you until you screamed his name. He will praise you with how good you feel. "Oh fuck, you feel so good, love. So good for me, yeah? So fuckin tight around me. Feel good for you?" You're nodding your head frantically as your words have just become swears, pleas, and Steven's name. "Look at you, look so good like this. Fucked dumb, huh?" Steven took notes from Jake and Marc on dirty talking.

W=Wildcard

(Random headcanon about him. Go!)

Steven has a major professor kink. You'll come up to his desk while he's in the middle of his studies of ancient Eygpt, asking him innocently to tell you what he's reading about. That will start one of his long rants. He's using his hands to talk and there's a sparkle in his eyes that's only there when he's talking about something he holds so dearly. It always starts off innocent, but his ramblings of his vast knowledge of Egypt just turn you on and at some point you're looking at him with hungry eyes. You move your hand to his thigh, rubbing it gently as you nod your head along to whatever he's saying, no longer able to actually pay attention. You breathing becomes more labored as you watch is hands, thinking about feeling them all of your body, inside you. When he finally stops for a breath, you take your chance. You look up at him with doe eyes. "Professor Grant, I just don't think I'm getting this part," You say, pointing at whatever book is on his desk. "Do you think we could go over it again?" After that, it's over for Steven. He has you bent over the desk, reading it out loud to him as he fucks you. He doesn't let you cum until you finish the chapter or whatever and makes you start over everytime you stop for an extended period of time or just fuck up a pronunciation of a god's name.

X=X-ray

(what's going on down there?)

Steven is big and thick. Marc is Jewish, so he's most likely circumcised. His cock is a few shades darker than the rest of his tanned skin and the tip is almost purple-ish (especially when he's aroused)

Y=Yearning

(how horny is he?)

Steven is better at hiding it, but he is a horny bastard just like Marc and Jake. He's almost embarrassed every time he gets aroused, but he can't help it around you. All you have to do is walk into a room and he's staring at you in awe, as if you were the most beautiful piece of artwork in existence. And to him- you are. He just can't believe he got so lucky. He's just lil ol' Steven, and you- you're YOU. So yes, he will take you whenever and where ever you want it.

Z=Zzz

(how fast does he fall asleep after the deed?)

Even though it usually wears him slap out, he keeps himself awake for you. He's determined to make sure you're fully taken care of before he succumbs to sleep. Hell- he'll even wait for you to fall asleep before he finally does. This man is the master of keeping himself awake, no matter how tired he is. You of course, reassure him over and over that you're all good, that he needs his rest, but he's always doing just one last thing for you.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x male reader #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven x reader #moon knight #moon boys #moon knight headcanon #moon knight smut #mr knight #mr knight x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you

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starsurface · 2 months

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Hello!!! ^_^ i really enjoy your headcanons like... a lotSHSJSJNE. And i was wondering if you could write some hcs about CG!Syzoth with a babyspace regressor? :3 its totally fine if not!!!

Hi!!! I'm so glad you like them!!!! <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Syzoth w/ Babyspace Regressor Hcs

🦎 Really good CG!!! Absolutely adores regressors!!!

🦎 He’s really good with almost any headspace too!!! Might get a bit confused with middle regressors, but he’s learning <3

🦎 If you thought you were clingy, you haven’t meet Syzoth 🙄

🦎 Syzoth loves cuddles!! Adores them even!!!

🦎 He constantly wants to hold you, or have you on his hip, or hold you hand while walking about

🦎 This is very good with clingy or dependant regressors

🦎 But if you like your personal space or being slightly independent? He’ll give you some space, but would atleast like some cuddle sessions every now and then

🦎 Was actually so scared to turn into his lizard form while you were small

🦎 He knew you could handle it when you were big, but even that took a lot of convincing

🦎 What if your were scared of him! What if you start crying, or his teeth scare you, or his claws terrified you? Or-

🦎 Bap him on the nose and call him silly for thinking all those bad thoughts

🦎 Lizard Syzoth is also super cuddly, but even more so!!! (Your so warm and squishy!! Not at all like his reptile form)

🦎 Although he’s also very careful around you, he has sharp claws and teeth, and is also pretty big, so if you wanna cuddle with the big lizard, he makes sure he’s extra careful <3

🦎 Doesn’t matter what CG nickname you use, but Dada is definitely one of his favorites

🦎 The first time you called him any sort CG nickname, he kinda . . . broke down

🦎 Not that you did anything wrong!!! He just got really sad, remembering his son calling him all kinds of nicknames

🦎 But he does encourage you to continue calling him whatever you want, and apologies for scaring you

🦎 ^ A nice cuddle session would help him feel better, but if you wanna color him a picture instead, he would be over the moon

🦎 Calls you many nicknames!! Hatchling, Little One, Tiny, Sweetheart, and more!!

🦎 Keeps any pictures you make!!! He thinks they’re all beautiful, and got a binder just for them!! :D

🦎 From scribbles to detail, or coloring pages, all your drawing get praised!! <3

🦎 And if you wanna hang up any on the wall or fridge, he’s all for it!!

🦎 Likes dance parties

🦎 I dunno why, but I could see him really enjoy spinning you around or just doing tiny hops with some pretty music in the background

🦎 Really good with any kind of protection (padding), and very soft and encouraging about it

🦎 Your go-to babysitters are kinda . . . everyone, from the Earthrealm friends, to the Royal House

🦎 ^ But Tomas, Ashrah, and Kitana are probably your biggest ones

🦎 He does get really upset when he has to leave you with them, especially when your already regressed, it just makes you both upset

🦎 He wants to watch after you!! Your his baby!! Does he really need to travel to deliver this letter? :(

🦎 Learnt how to control a phone just to communicate with you when he’s not there <3

🦎 I dunno about you, but I get super squeamish around bugs (had my siblings fight D’Vorah for me in MK11)

🦎 And if you also don’t like bugs, he’ll try not to eat them in front of you, atleast when your small

🦎 . . . Also one time he ate a butterfly and you sobbed so hard, he felt terrible

🦎 But if you do like bugs, that’s great!! :D

🦎 He’ll take you outside, help you finds them, and be very excited when you show them to him (no, he won’t eat them when you show them to him . . . He’ll eat them later, when your bigger)

🦎 He’ll take you outside even if you don’t like bugs, sitting on a blankie and sunbathing, or reading you a book

🦎 Your naptime is his naptime . . . because he gets to snuggle you <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I actually love Syzoth, he's super cool!! :D

#age regression #agere #sfw age regression #mortal kombat agere #sfw agere #age regression headcanons #mk agere #mk1 #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat 1 headcanons #syzoth #caregiver syzoth #cg syzoth #mk1 syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth x reader

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juniefruit · 1 month

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☆ Artist Hyunjin Part Two ☆

☆ AHHHH skz anniversary!!! wishing the boys the best!

☆ Originally written as bestie/roommate, but it's up to your interpretation!

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Word Count: 1,000

Hyunjin is an artist. In every sense. He can see the beauty in all things, big or small. He can observe something that might seem mundane, but he always finds a way to reveal its true beauty.

There’s one shelf in his room dedicated to all of his old sketchbooks. Each and every page is filled to the brim with sketches, sticky notes, and pencil smudges. His room has fairy lights adorning the ceiling and dried flowers preserved and on display. An easel sits in the corner. It’s cozy and warm. His desk, oh my. At least a few miscellaneous cups filled with pencils of all shades and colors, markers, and paintbrushes are always in the corner. Really, he tries his best to keep it organized, but when an idea strikes, and he’s frantically trying to get everything on paper, it becomes the least of his worries.

You do sometimes scold him, especially when you find a paint stain on your sweater. You don’t know how it got there, but it’s most definitely Hyunjin’s doing. Sometimes, you’ll be chilling on the couch together when suddenly his eyes light up, he straightens his posture, and speed walks to his bedroom/studio. “Hyunie, what??” “I finally got it! I need to write this down before I forget!” You chuckle, following him to his room.

One of Hyunjin's bigger art pieces is on display in the living room. It’s an abstract piece that looks great against the beige wall. Hyunjin was reluctant to hang it up, but you insisted. “It’s embarrassing, y/nie!” He whined. “What’s embarrassing about it? This is amazing! And I'm hanging it up if you won’t.” You huff.

It’s very rare that Hyunjin asks you to be his real-time model for a painting. The reason is he doesn’t want to trouble you and have you sit, sometimes for hours, while he works. Instead, he loves to secretly keep pictures of you in his ‘inspiration’ folder on his phone. At this point though, he can sketch you in his sleep. Pages upon pages in his sketchbook are filled with your portrait from all angles. You’re his muse. His inspiration. His hand has memorized how to sketch all the curves and angles of your face and body. Sometimes he’ll be buried nose deep in his sketchbook, and the only sound you can hear is the gentle scratch of the pencil against the paper. You’ll ask what he’s drawing, but he would never admit what it actually is. Once in a while he’ll look up at you and smile, as you sit across from him on the couch. You look ethereal in the afternoon sun, he thinks. Maybe one day he’ll gather the courage to gift you a portrait, or show you a sketch. He knows deep down you would love it. But his nerves are like a blockade. Every artist knows how troubling it can be to show your art to the world. It’s like showing a part of yourself, your soul.

Today was friday, an end to a stressful and high-strung week. To destress, you told Hyunjin to put on a casual outfit. You simply said you’re ‘going out’. He decided upon cafe-brown corduroy pants, a sweater vest and a white blouse under it. The top half of his hair was pinned back with a claw clip. You were taking him to the art supply store. It wasn’t that far, just a few subway stops. He didn’t have a clue until you arrived. His eyes lit up when you told him to pick something out. Like a kid in a candy store, he was snaking through the aisles, his hair bouncing when he walked. As Hyunjin was at the back of one of the store aisles, he had a moment to think. He decided that he’d draw you with the materials he bought. And then show you. He could feel the nerves creeping up his spine just at the thought. But he was set. When you checked out, he chose a few sketching materials like a specialized pencil and eraser. The second you stepped out of the store, he hugged you so tight your face turned pink.

He won’t admit he stayed up all night, long after he assured you that he’s actually going to sleep. He’s dialed in, leaning over his desk. A sheet of drawing paper, about the size of a laptop, sits on the wooden paint-stained surace. His eyes squint behind his glasses as he studies each and every stroke of his pencil. Once in a while he even bites the end of the pencil in his right hand as he concentrates. The eyes of your portrait stare up at him with grace and innocence, like a sunny spring day. It was maybe around 5 AM before he finally deemed it good enough and headed to bed. The next day, after you both got back from work/school, he met you in the living room, with his hands behind his back. “I um- I made you something, as a thank you… for the art supplies and, uh- for being in my life.” he extends his hands to show you the portrait of yourself as his face flushes with shyness. “Wow, Hyunie! This- it’s so beautiful! Thank you!” You take the sheet of paper gingerly with both hands. You set it on the coffee table before facing Hyunjin. “Really, you didn’t have to do that. And I’m glad you’re in my life, too. Um-” You look back at the portrait. “How did you make me look so good?” Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat. His hand reaches to rub at the back of his neck with a shy smile. “It’s just you, y/n. I thought that you’d appreciate seeing how beautiful you are in my eyes.” He admits. You hum, totally at a loss for words. “Well, you were right.” You say with sincerity. Looking back up at him, you say, “Speaking of eyes, are those dark circles?”

Read more drabbles & such here~ masterlist

Asks/requests are open!

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #skz x you #stray kids x y/n

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marinaiguess · 1 year

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For request: tails (or nine) noticing sonic has a concussion while hes running around and fighting?

Okay, you did say Tails or Nine but I took the latter and ran with it, even though I’m a bit unsure about whether I can write him correctly. Doesn’t hurt to try, I guess.

Thank you for the request!! Hope you like this <3 (turned out to be way longer than I expected but that's a good sign actually :) )

He shouldn’t have been out here; it was wrong and he didn’t like it one bit. He was exposed, he felt vulnerable, he knew this was definitely not a safe tactic in order to survive in the city, yet he kept on fighting, the gun on his hand shooting out bullets faster than the wind as they all pierced through their targets successfully.

Beside him, that blue hedgehog, who had managed to draw attention to them (despite warning him not to) seemed to enjoy every - spin attack he called them? – that he landed on the robots, smashing them to pieces with ease as though he wasn’t running at supersonic speeds. This power, was it actually his? It was raw, very impressive and potentially hazardous, especially in the wrong hands, but his control over it showed how much capable and experienced he was.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the hedgehog, who he was, what he was, how he got here, why he got here out of any place he could have travelled to.

And how ever since his arrival he effectively changed everything about this city.

Everything he knew about this city.

The Chaos Council never had any trouble eliminating their opponents. In fact, they never used these specifically designed battle robots they were mass producing to begin with because they didn’t need to. Whatever resistance the citizens had hopelessly brought to life, clearly wasn’t enough to fight against the conquerors and creators of this damned city.

So, one hedgehog was all it took to change fate, to spark hope?

He would rather die than admit it out loud but the reckless speedster had sparked the tiniest bit of hope inside of him. What he wouldn’t give to live in a huge and not polluted valley, surrounded by trees and grass and birds…To have friends, to be loved and cared for and-

His eyes flicked to Sonic just in time to witness him jump on a bigger mech this time. He wished he had a hero, someone to look up to, someone who would have protected him when he needed him the most, just like the Nine Sonic knew. He scrunched his nose as he tried to remember what he had called him; it wasn’t too hard though. Tails. It sounded like a dream; too good to be true. And Nine was certain it would be impossible for him to live the life he wanted to, the one he deserved to live.

A chuckle escaped him. “That’s just as unlikely as a fox flying.”

Still, he couldn’t help but fight alongside Sonic, his newly found hope urging him to move forward and search for the life he’d always wanted. Maybe supporting him would help him in the long run as well. Just maybe.

He had been ignoring all of Sonic’s remarks so far, all the: “You’re doing great, Nine!”, “Nice shot, Nin- is that a fucking gun?”, (he had rolled his eyes at that) “Keep it up, their forces are weakening!”, let alone all the witty ones directed to the enemies. There were too many to keep count of.

They were actually doing pretty well and Nine was surprised they made it this far without being captured by any of the bots. But it seemed like all of their efforts were futile as a new machine made its appearance in the battlefield: the egg baby robot.

“Hey, who invited the party pooper?” Sonic’s smug grin was plastered on his face as he turned around to look at Nine, pointing at the massive robot behind him. “Get it? Because it’s a bab-” He never got the chance to finish his joke, he was cut off by his own yelling as the mech had taken ahold of him and was squeezing him inside of its palm.

Nine had reached for him but wasn’t able to get him out of harms way in time. “Fuck.” He growled as he took aim, a new plan forming in his head as he started shooting at the robot’s feet. His attacks didn’t change a thing, Sonic was still wiggling inside of the mech’s grasp, brushing off the incoming bullets like they were made of paper.

“So, uh,” what was the idiot doing, talking to the baby when he was clearly trying to make a diversion, like any smart person would, “still sore about my butt kicking?”. He could hear the nervousness in his voice, despite the confidence his face was emitting, him trying to stall was his final resort.

Too bad it didn’t help at all.

The mech took a step forward as it shifted its entire weight to its arm, the one holding the helpless hero, despite his protests.

Everything that followed happened very fast.

Nine could only watch as Sonic was sent flying backwards, unable to do anything but wait for his fall which was interrupted by hitting his head on a pole. Hard.

“Sonic!” Nine rushed to him, an unexplainable force pushing him towards his direction. Using his metallic tails as a shield against the robot’s attacks, he was soon by Sonic’s side.

“Ughh, my head hurts.” So, he was in pain? And hadn’t acknowledged his presence next to him. Not good. Maybe if they got out of there, just in case they found a safe place he would be able to help. Just a tiny bit though, he was no doctor, despite his high intelligence. He kept his eyes on him, noting how he was hardly standing on his feet so he easily concluded that the hedgehog was in no place to keep on fighting.

“Sonic?” addressing him once more seemed to do the trick as Sonic turned around to face Nine, forcing a smile as soon as they looked at each other. “You need medical aid.”

“Ha! Me? I’m fine buddy!” he said, clearly lying. He kept losing balance and seemed way out of it. Nine was sure that if he held three fingers up, he wouldn’t be able to tell how many they actually were but he refrained from trying that and so, he remained justifiably not convinced.

But why was he so…worried?

Right. “Sonic you cannot fight like that, you’ll endanger us getting captured.” It was for the mission and for the sake of staying (relatively) safe in this hell of a city. They didn’t have the luxury to get caught by the Chaos Council, it would only cause troubles he did not really want to deal with at the moment. Yeah, for…for the mission.

“What you see is what you get!” Sonic stated (what exactly did that mean?!) as he curled himself into a ball and readied his spin attack, locking on his target. Which he missed by a large margin. How hard did he hit his head anyway?

Nine would not just stand there and watch the so-called fastest thing alive get up and try to punch the robot just to fall back on the ground without even having completed his poor attempt. Running as fast as his tails allowed him to, he was (once again) headed towards Sonic. But a gasp that escaped him made him stop dead on his tracks, as he watched the claw of the robot on its way to smash its opponent, possibly ending him forever.

Two seconds was all it took for him to run, jump, take Sonic and let his seven fully functional tails carry him as he turned around, taking aim and shooting at the cockpit with whatever ammo he had left, still moving backwards. That didn’t immobilize the enemy though and Nine quickly reloaded his gun. The next bullets that he shot found their target with ease just like the previous ones. Only this time, paint was splattered across the cockpit, blocking the baby’s eyesight.

He grinned. He knew paint balls would come of use one day.

He used a smoke bomb to completely rule out the chance they would be found. At least for a while. It would save them some time, all the time he needed to make sure Sonic is okay.

After a lot of running and taking turns, Nine found a narrow road where no cameras were detected. They’d be safe. They should return to his lab however, as soon as possible, yet without being followed.

He let Sonic on the ground, slowly and careful not to hurt him any further or make his current situation worse. He kneeled beside him, taking his head on his hands ready to examine him. That is until the hedgehog opened his eyes and looked at him with the most loving and caring expression he’d ever witnessed. He was surprised, conflicted, in pain. Yet, he found himself yearning for more.

“Heh, Tails, what are you doing bud?”

Tails. Of course. He should have expected it. “I’m Nine. Get it right.” he scoffed, disappointed in himself for believing someone would smile at a creep like him, someone would care about him. “Now stay still, I need to check your injuries.”

“Aww, Nine, you’re worried about me!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m n- and stop getting on my nerves or I’m gonna hit you.”

He was hoping Sonic was still feeling a bit dizzy (as it seemed like he was before) to save himself from the embarrassment of someone else noticing his reddened cheeks. Ignoring Sonic’s smug smile, he kept on searching for any serious injuries while simultaneously trying very hard not to lose focus.

“Just as I expected”, Nine sighed, mostly out of relief for breaking the deafening silence between them, “you have a concussion.”

He was waiting to see a surprised look on his face, a concerned one even but that wasn’t the case. “Pftt, that’s nothing, I’ve dealt with it before.” Sonic got up, a beaming grin appearing on his muzzle but faltering as soon as he lost balance. Despite playing it off as him posing - when he was actually supporting himself on the wall to not fall down- Nine was no idiot and was having none of his bullshit.

“Since you’ve dealt with this before as you say,” he got up, holding Sonic by his shoulders and pushing him back on the ground, forcing him to sit down, “you might also know how it should be treated.” His voice was even and calm, dangerously calm, partly because he knew that Sonic’s answer wouldn’t be one that he’d like.

“Chili dogs and kicking robot ass?” And, there it was, his innocent looking (which was also a nervous one according to Nine’s judgement) smile did not help at all.

“No.” It was his turn to smile, Sonic’s frame shrinking slightly, probably afraid of what he knew he would hear next. “Resting for three days.”

The following reaction was most definitely an unexpected one for the young fox. An overexaggerated gasp and a thud later, the hedgehog sat up once more. “Please, please, please, you can’t do this to me. I-” he paused, looking away from his eyes for a brief moment, “I need to save my friends.”

Nine wasn’t sure if he felt confused, amazed or jealous. How dumb was he to prefer neglecting his health in favor of his friends? How much did he care about them? “Listen, you’re not saving anyone in your condition.” He’d help him find them. But not for Sonic! He was sure he would gain something from that and that’s all he cared about; himself. “You will in fact put the whole city in danger if you act recklessly.” Not that he cared about the city, he just happened to be one of the people who lived in it.

Sonic crossed his arms and pouted, acting like a bratty little child wouldn’t work on Nine.

“Okay, how about,” alright, it might have worked actually, “two days?”

“One.”

“One? That’s just exploiting my kindness.”

“One give or take.” He looked serious for the first time since he met him. “As I said, I’ve dealt with this before, one day should be enough.”

Nine seemed to consider it for a while but understood it was the best option he could have right now. “Alright, one day.” He extended his hand to Sonic. “Glad we agreed on that.”

Sonic eyed his hand, reluctantly taking it so he could stand up. “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I will like it. Not running feels like hell to me.” He groaned as he leaned against Nine in an attempt to support himself.

Nine chuckled at that, using five of his tails to help him move forward, allowing Sonic to wrap an arm around his shoulder, not exactly unwelcoming to the touch. “I’m sure we’ll find something interesting for you in the lab.” He side-eyed him while looking at his watch to determine how far from his home they were.

“The way you say it, it makes me feel like you’ll be giving me lab equipment to test out.” He rolled his eyes, he really seemed to hate being used as a guinea pig and who wouldn’t? “FYI, I’m not a hamster ball guy.” They started moving forward, Sonic managing to walk beside Nine thanks to his tails.

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh, thank Chaos, I was seriously getting worried.”

#sonic prime #amirite?#sonic prime spoilers #just in case #srsly thank you for the request :)#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #miles nine prower #nine the fox #fanfic #sth fanfiction

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skrs-cats · 1 year

Text

Set in-between dovewing's silence and avos

Dovewing lay curled up on the moss beside him, Lionblaze was thankful to see the tell tale rise and fall of her chest, the ease of her breathing, of a dreamless sleep. Every now and then her ears and whiskers twitched, and she mumbled out phrases and names, but other than that she seemed to be resting properly.

"You worry a lot."

Lionblaze's gaze flits to his left, where Jayfeather grooms a paw and draws it over his muzzle. His blind blue eyes were bright. "You say that like you don't."

Jayfeather doesn't confirm nor deny him, moving closer to lay his body so that it warmed Lionblaze's side. "There's a lot to worry about, being a medicine cat and all."

"If you need more fox dung for your garden," Lionblaze jokes. "You know who to call."

"Definitely not Ivypool." There's a wry smirk on his brother's face. "And you may have fought a fox alone and won, but it's different now, you need to learn to be more careful."

Lionblaze rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. As if I hadn't heard that a hundred times already."

"I'm serious." Jayfeather hardens his tone. "The clan needs you. I need you."

"You'll do just fine without me in the picture." Lionblaze protests. "You and Hollyleaf have always been more than capable."

Jayfeather's expression morphs into anger. "You don't get to decide that." He spits, only low enough so that they wouldn't wake Dovewing up. "You don't get to decide if I want to lose another littermate or not."

Lionblaze feels his heart crack. "Jay, that's not what I-"

"I know." The tom interrupts, taking a deep breath and letting all the anger go with a sigh. "Just. Say you'll be careful, okay?"

"I can't promise that and mean it." Lionblaze mews, guilty but honest. "I've spent all my life heading into danger because I always believed I couldn't get hurt, I don't think I can force my body to forget that every time."

Jayfeather sighs again, resigned and tired. "I know." He repeats. "You're going to try and prove that losing your powers didn't stop you from being ThunderClan's best warrior."

Lionblaze presses his nose to Jayfeather's shoulder. "It's the only way I feel of use to the clan." he says, voice muffled by gray fur. "I know you overwork because you feel the same way about your medicine cat duties."

Jayfeather briefly taps his chin against the golden tom's forehead. "I guess we have a lot to deal with, still." he pauses. "And so does she."

Drawing away from him, Lionblaze glances back to Dovewing, nodding out of habit. "I have to admit," He says, tongue heavy in his mouth. "I don't think she's doing better than the two of us combined."

Jayfeather knows what he means, remembers the younger she-cat's voice, distant and dull on worse days, distracted and out of it on her best. He wonders if they're part of the cause, feels his stomach coil at the thought.

"Whatever happens, if- when she decides to choose her happiness over stupid prophecies..." His voice fades for a moment, thoughts running over countless possibilities. "I won't stop her."

Lionblaze's responding meow is as soft as the fluffy tail that curls up over Jayfeather's back. "Me neither."

They stay like that for a moment, before Lionblaze speaks again, a rumbled buzz beneath Jayfeather's neck.

"I wondered, but was afraid of asking..." he tapers off awkwardly, and Jayfeather gives his ear a lick to continue. "Your powers, you said they helped you see in your dreams, right?"

"They did." Jayfeather blinks, vision still obscured far too much to discern what he was looking at. "But that doesn't mean I don't see whenever I dream anymore."

"So do you still know what I look like?"

"Yes, Lionblaze." Jayfeather snorts. "I still remember you and you're ugly face in excruciating detail."

"Hey-" The bigger tom breathes a huff of laughter. "I'm fairly handsome, I'll have you know."

"I quite literally and figuratively can't figure out what Cinderheart or Berrynose sees in you, honestly."

"Just because I'm not gentle or tall like Kestrelflight doesn't mean other cats don't have a crush on me, okay?"

"Kestrel- you know what? Nevermind. Forget I said anything." That's another headache to ponder about another time, and Jayfeather mulls over a thought in his brain, one that sits at the back of his throat. "I don't think it'll last though, the dreams, I mean."

Lionblaze rights his position. "How so?"

"They'll fade." Jayfeather says. "I'll forget."

The finality doesn't leave room for opposition but Lionblaze still finds himself looking at the stars in the sky anyway.

"If you ever do," he meows. "I'll remind you."

Jayfeather dips his head, Dovewing shuffles closer in her slumber, and Lionblaze continues gazing at the beyond alone.

#i think ill post this on ao3 later #i wanted to explore the concept of the threes birth and worth being correlated to fulfilling the prophecy #but it got away from me #maybe another time #idk where im getting the balls to post my fanfic bc i normally always shit myself scared thats ehy i refuse to tag #but you know what i dont care anymore its 2023 im writing wc fanfic im cringe but im free!!!!!!!!!!!#if i find the motivation maybe this will be a comic one day

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ultra-raging-ghost · 4 months

Note

What are your ideas on the differences between a human and a demon, I've seen many many many many differing interpretations and I wanna collect them all like Pokémon cards

I have a couple thoughts on this actually!!!!

So first off the big ones, physically there's a bunch of differences between humans and demons, and even between demons themselves!

To me, humans generally follow like IRL rules and shit like that, but theres additional things that kinda come with minecraft mechanics. Obviously theres respawn, but i personally attribute that to some kind of supernatural occurrences or very specific circumstances. In the case of the QSMP there's cannon vs non-cannon/in-universe deaths, but i also like to keep the Federation in mind - they obviously have some sort of hand in the life cycle on quesadilla island, with the eggs having two lives and whatnot, and being able to briefly bring them back to speak with their parents before being sent off to the afterlife. I personally think humans have IRL mechanics, but organizations like the Federation or even sometimes standalone experimental organizations can have a hand in trying to affect the human life cycle.

We have god-like beings, angels and ferrymen of death and whatnot, and i cant help but remember the Hunger Games lore where more than one life wasnt given which is cannon to the QSMP. I also like to consider the DSMP, which is semi-cannon, where they had multiple "cannon" lives (as opposed to the QSMP where they have one "cannon" life from what we've seen) and Ghosts and resurrections and all that, human life from what ive seen is not only fragile but flexible! Can be broken but also can be bent!

I got a little side tracked but point is: humans - one life (unless interfered with) Demons - not one life! (Bad follows a death/rebirth cycle/We dont know how mouse and tina operate/etc.)

Other physicalities I consider is humans are generally pretty realistically sturdy, they easily lose limbs but can wear prosthetics, and with the help of magic they can be immune to certain things (Still organizing my thoughts on Fit's recent lore - might think abt that more later).

Demons are not only sturdier (Bad/Mouse/tina/dapper/pomme/emmie having generally neutral reactions to radiation, obviously bad and dapper arent doing the best but theyre fairing MUCH better than a human would in their condition) but i like to imagine they can shape shift a little? we know the eggs generally like to hc bad as a shapeshifter that can get bigger/smaller, but he has consistent features he cant really get rid of as far as we've seen like his horns and tail. When i draw him, i generally vary his horn shape/length and change his body type and height a little in every drawing on purpose, but also i like extending this to the other demons! Mouse and Tina obviously look more human, but like cc!tina has talked about how she likes q!tina to have huge fucking knockers and i like to imagine they can change that themselves, it just makes sense to me! There are limitations to it, in my mind the horns are a consistent and identifying feature on them that they cant really change without a TON of practice. But the rules are bendy, ykwim? they can be more or less animalistic, swap physically gendered traits, shift from nails to claws, etc.

As far as cannon things go, we know demons generally have a better nose and all smell like sulfur, humans smell different to them, probably like BO or something lol

Thinking magic wise, humans obviously dont experience a ton of it, but magic is everywhere! In the air, on your skin, and thats to say i just think its funny to imagine that demons can be summoned by saying their name 5 times kjbhvjbn

Culturally, demons are definitely a lot different not only from humans but from one another and i think thats entirely based on their upbringing! I could write a lot about that, but the first thing off the top of my head is like their clothing i guess? We see from mouse and bad's clothing they tend to wear pretty gear-like clothing, i guess is how you could describe it? I like to imagine belts and buckles are something theyre used to wearing, maybe for aesthetic reasons, maybe for mechanical reasons! Maybe in hell you gotta carry a lotta small shit, or rock climbing is a popular activity, who knows!

Demon culture as well to me includes horn pride, ykwim? They care for and polish their horns, paint them for celebrations and decorate them with jewelry! Theres popular standard colors like black and white but choosing something more extravagant is common! Like matching your hair color if you have it dyed a fun color, staining it, painting it patterned for birthdays or holidays. Maybe its like homestuck purpleblood facepaint rules, where showing your bare horns is something you do with special people you trust a lot? Thats something very cute to me.

Also! Mentioned this in another post! i like the idea of Pool noodle jail!! Putting pool noodles on the horns of baby demons who cant stop headbutting eachother! thats adorable to me!!

#qsmp #q!badboyhalo #q!bbh #q!tina #q!ironmouse #q!mouse #demon trio

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gourdkeeper · 10 months

Note

If you are still doing requests, may I ask for Jamie to save the reader from some thugs that were jumping them, and we award him with some fun NSFW

Oh absolutely!

Wrote this one as being complete strangers for the sake of changing stuff up a bit from the next request.

Word count: 2119

Warnings: 18+, violence, blood and bruises (reader got hurt), AFAB reader, robbery, borderline sexual assault, jamie saves the day and you catch feelings, you catch something else too iykwim, public setting, blowjob

You felt so stupid.

Why did you feel the urge to grab food from the shady alley of Chinatown at night all by yourself.

You knew your craving wasn't worth sating.

You also knew you shouldn't be going out this late in just shorts and a small top that leaves nothing to imagination.

You knew you'd get pestered and harrassed.

And that you did.

"C'mon princess? Fight a little will ya?" A masked thug is pressing a knife up to your cheek while others of his stupid gang are holding your arms down.

You spit directly at his face and try your best to kick him off of you.

"Ohhhh she's got it in her!" "Look'a that!" "Aw shit boss you should teach her a lesson!"

Stupid douchebags. You'd be kicking their heads into each other's buttholes if they weren't outnumbering you massively.

You struggle to no avail and the fucker you just spat at approaches you once more and you, stubborn, kick again aiming for the crotch. Jackpot.

"OH YOU MOTHERFUCKER- YOU'RE PAYING-"

He's clutching his own balls, fallen to his knees some of his gang members inevitably laughing at him and getting shushed by others, too scared to piss the boss off.

Another guy pats you down, if you didn't know any better you'd think they're not even trying to rob you anymore.

"Aha there it is!~" the handsy guy smacks your ass as he pulls a wallet out of your pocket.

"Count it!" The boss barks, "Let's see if this bitch's worth anything, she's already paying anyway..."

"20...30..40.......72500 zeny?!" The guy sounds incredulous, "Someone's been working real hard eh?"

Truth is you've been working part time at the scrap heap and trying your best to save up money to help a friend out of trouble. Guess that's no use now...

The bigger gruffy shithead they call boss has regained composure since and approached you once again, "So darling, if you want us leaving you alone...you better come here weekly and bring us this much every time or else... We're tracking you down and taking whatever else we want. Simple no?" He drags his fingers over your face and you instinctively bite his hand as hard as possible, drawing blood and making the guy yelp out in pain and reactively punching you square in the nose making your head whip back.

You almost didn't hear it.

But you were certain you heard some other good for nothing thug scream at the same time you've nearly bit the guy's finger off.

A few seconds pass as you still try to free yourself. And there it is again.

There was definitely a clear "thud" sound and a scream.

The gangsters take notice as well. They look around themselves but see nothing. Panicked.

Until a swipe of yellow comes crashing down from the rooftop splatting one of the guys on the floor along with it.

You felt silly at feeling hopeful that help was coming, it's almost embarrassing, having to be saved like a damsel in distress.

You've heard of him before.

The peacekeeper of Chinatown.

He straightens himself up graciously and taking a swig of a gourd kept at his hip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before extending his arm just in time to smack another thug away.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GET HIM!"

The boss barks while backing away, knowing this would be trouble for his sorry ass.

The yellow clothed guy makes easy work of a group of three thugs, kicking one up in the air before rolling on the floor and sweeping him up, you can't tell if he's fighting or dancing. He gets back up on his feet in one swift impulse and stops the other in his track before slapping the ever living shit out of him and in the middle of turning on his heel his stupidly long braid wacks right on the remaining lackey's face taking him down swiftly as well.

The two guys holding onto your arms finally let go and run off leaving both you and your wallet on the ground. You've let yourself fall to your knees in the middle of the alley.

"And where do you think *you* are going?" The long haired man points and the leader running off with his tail between his legs.

He takes another swig before slamming his fist on a small balcony above him, making a ladder descend right before the coward attempting to flee, forcing him to stop abruptly and losing balance and trapping him.

"I'm talking to you shithead! You think you can just go around threatening people in *my* turf?"

He closes the gap between him and the man, still holding onto the knife he earlier had up against your face.

"Get the fuck away from me y-you drunk weirdo, what the fuck do you want?!" His voice shaky, brandishing his knife without sense before the cocky peacekeeper knocks it off his hand with one swift kick and cartwheeling, closing the gap and twisting the man's elbow until a "crack" is heard. Ouch.

"No you, get the fuck away-" he barely finishes, tossing the man off onto the ground and kicking "loser." He spits before taking one more sip and watching the man run off.

"Woah" you think to yourself.

You see the guy that just saved you and your hard work turn around, putting the gourd back at his hip and pacing towards you.

"T-thank you-!" You exclaim at him, unsure how to even be grateful of such a thing.

"And you might be?"

He reaches his hand out to you, allowing you to get back up on your feet.

You mutter your name out and thank him once more.

Face to face he's even prettier.

His cheekbones pronounced, his chin and nose sharp, lips thin but smooth and his eyes watching you intently...is that makeup? God, that's... Kind of hot. You try not to stare regardless, that'd be rude.

He helps your straighten your clothes before crouching to grab your wallet and handing it back to you, "Better not forget what's important right?"

You chuckle "Right... Right, almost forgot... Thank you for helping me out, I thought I was done for uh.." you motion ad stare at him.

"Jamie. Name's Jamie Siu." He has such a confident and charismatic aura to him even when just stating his name.

"Jamie... Well, thank you Jamie..." You feel yourself blush and you feel stupid for it, taking your hand to your face to hide it but flinching in pain as you realize your nose's been broken and it hurts at the slightest touch and... Crap you're bleeding.

Taking better notice, you've gotten quite a few bruises.

"Yeah you uhhh, got a bit beat up it seems huh? How about I help you out?"

"Nonono! I mean, no need really you did enough, I should uh get going, I shouldn't really be out anyway and I uh-"

You're interrupted by him laughing, "Really I insist, let me take care of you." He takes a small tissue to your face and wipes some blood off.

"Gotta say, you still held your own pretty well, most people would submit immediately and not even try to fight back... I like that."

He looks intrigued, interested in you even.

You know he can see you blush being so close and cleaning your face. You don't know what to say.

"Cat got your tongue?~" he jests.

"I... I liked seeing you fight!" What the hell is that for an answer? This is so damn awkward you want to run and hide.

"Oh? Of course you did, I could even show you some other moves..." He says the last part hushed.

"What... what other moves?" You ask with bated breath. Why are you swooning over a stranger. You shouldn't even be here.

He smiles. Not answering. But the look on his face says it all.

You clear your throat.

"I. Uhm."

His eyebrow raises at you as you painstakingly utter every word.

"Maybe. I. Maybe I could pay you back somehow. And uh. You could...maybe show me those other, moves?" You feel like you want to die, what are you even saying?

"I would quite like that..." His face is closer. Dangerously closer.

"I would like that a lot." His hand tangling in your hair. It's dark. The alley is empty as every thug has ran off. No merchant to be seen anymore either.

You breathe heavily as you feel him breathe down your neck, his voice barely a whisper.

"How would you pay me back, huh?" He teases.

Your eyes trace the outline of his body, barely illuminated from behind and you get bolder.

"You could have your way with me..."

"Here? Outside? Just like that? Someone's daring..." His hands trailing over your body. You're both full of want.

The adrenaline has gotten to you and you take his wrist and guide his hand to your breast catching him by surprise.

"Holy shit-" he gasps out and licks his lips before trading looks with you.

You moan softly as he moves his digits and squeezes.

Jamie pounces at you and starts mouthing at you, kissing you, ravishing you with his tongue.

Holy crap holy crap holy crap holy- your mind is racing.

He pulls back from the kiss. Your blood now smeared on his face. Oh god. That's so hot.

Something primal in you awakens and your hands rush to his pants.

"Woah there-!" He feigns surprise, "If you don't watch out you might just need to be saved again..."

"Maybe I don't want to be saved this time..." You look up at him flushed, eagerly untying the rope keeping his pants up.

"S'that so?" He grabs you by your hair albeit gently, making you look at him again, "Princess is feeling a little daring?" Mocking the gangsters from early on and teasing you all the same.

"Maybe so..." You finish freeing him of his yellow sweatpants and drag them lower, followed by his underwear.

His member slings out. Wet already, glistening slightly in the night. You look at him once as if checking if he's still down for this and going back to business. Your lips enveloping the head, tongue flat under his frenulum licking up as you pull before going deeper back down.

His eyes are fixated on you, lips parted, exhaling, breath keeping up with the pace of your motions. Hand still in your hair he pulls you towards his hips as he rocks them forth.

You gag slightly but adjust fast. His cock slipping down your throat. You squeeze your hands, he's big but nothing you can't take. You're a big girl. You can't help but moan around his cock.

He lowers his hips before thrusting them forth again. And again. And again. Increasing the pace, holding you down. "That's right princess... You're so good at taking me..!" He lets a long moan out. "You su-sure know how to pay someone ba~ck..." He takes a swig of his drink, letting himself get drowsier. "God. That's right. Go deeper."

He gets more brash, never rough enough to hurt you but definitely more agitated, definitely closer to the edge. Pulling you in tighter in his grip like a deadly snake. His cock rammed down your mouth, leaving you no give to pull back. Pubes brushing against your lips and nose. Going balls deep. Growing franctic.

His moans are getting out of control, he needs his free hand to squeeze over his mouth as his body twitches and squirms. Words and babbling muffled by his hand, he's panting inbetween slurs of words. Something about this being his turf and you having to serve him. It's not a bad idea.

It doesn't matter, you're entraced by him. By his sex. His flavor.

You look up.

His jacket is no longer on properly. Fully opened, his pecs as red as his cheeks. Heaving up and down with each breath.

The sight alone with him in your mouth could make you come.

You take the plunge and take him fully in, as well as you can, tongue reaching for his balls. Cheeks hollow, fully taking him as he thrusts inside of you.

"I- c..I can't-"

He truly cannot, his words unfinished, unlike him.

He spurts deep into your throat. You pull back enough just to feel his come on your tongue. You want to taste him forever.

His cock still twitching. His body limp, fallen backwards and out of breath.

You swallow him down and try your best to regain your breath as well.

You notice that your nose bled onto his lower half as well. First he saves you and as pay you get him dirty. God.

You need to clean him up and apologize.

#jamie siu #street fighter 6 #jamie siu x reader #jamie street fighter #afab reader #gourdkeeper #requests

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 2 years

Text

Dawn Café (Gwynriel One Shot)

Hi, I’m essentially new on here and thought I would post some of my writing. This is also already posted in a Gwynriel collection on AO3. I just thought the acotar community here is a bit bigger :)

This one shot was inspired by a promt - about Gwyn being a barista and wooing Azriel by drawing latte art that someone suggested I write a little story about on AO3. So, a modern AU with our favourites.

Warnings: this is definitely mature/NSFW/18+ with explicit smut and swearing

-----

“What?? What do you mean Aelin is too good for him? I think they are perfect for each other!”, Gwyn nearly chocked on her take-away, she was so enraged. Her favorite ship was being dragged through the mud, and she wasn’t having any of it.

“Love, it’s obvious. Did you hear him talk to this Bryce girl? He was way too patronizing. If I would have done that to you when we started dating, you’d have had my balls.”, Azriel explained matter of fact, gesturing to the TV with his fork in hand.

He was really hot when he got into his debate mode, his sharp mind was the first (okay, maybe second) thing that Gwyn found so irresistible about him. Even when that sharp mind was currently debating the newest episode of “Love Island” with her.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t been guilty of that before. Cut this guy some slack, he had such a hard breakup with the brunette. I’d argue he is just misunderstood and needs a strong hand to guide him.”, Gwyn would not leave her ship. She was the proud captain.

“What he needs is a strong kick in the ass. She should go with the blond guy, what’s his name?”, Azriel rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to remember, before blurting out, “Rowan!”.

Gwyn couldn’t help the giggle making its way up to her mouth. She would have never guessed that her broody, serious boyfriend, who profusely tried to resist watching Gwyn’s reality TV shows with her a few months ago, would end up the biggest fan. He seriously beat her to the TV every night the show was on, without fail.

“Fine, whatever.”, she decided to be nice tonight and give in to his ridiculous opinion. She would prove him right anyway next week. Finishing up her udon noodles, she threw the take away container back into its bag. That was her favorite thing about ordering in – the lack of dishes. Azriel hasn’t finished yet, but she wasn’t one bit surprised about that. He had ordered three different main courses and was currently munching himself through the second. That might have been the only downside to living with him: the increased food bills. But the past months proved he was very capable of making up for that in more than one way.

Gwyn leisurely stretched her arms and slouched back on the couch, ever so thankful for her baggy sweat pants. She continued to watch the show for a little while, eyes occasionally drifting to her boyfriend to find him working his way through the food. By the looks of it, he would actually finish, no left overs to be eaten the next day. That made Gwyn reach out her hand to rest on his knee and draw little circles there with her thumb.

Given his eating habit tonight, he must have had the worst day at work. Sometimes, his boss’s demands get so frequent and stressful that he literally finds no time to eat. His perfectionism and work ethic don’t really help with that either.

The jingle of a commercial break interrupted her thoughts. Azriel, sinking the very last spoonful of food into his mouth, let out a satisfying groan. He chewed, eyes closed as if to savor the taste one last time, with his hands meeting behind his head, his impressive biceps flexing in the process.

It was so unfair. How he looked like straight from a runway in his baggy grey sweats and black shirt, while Gwyn looked like a slob. Even though he would probably disagree with that, scold her for saying bad things about herself and then show her exactly how beautiful she looked to him. That kind of made her consider saying it out loud. But maybe not yet, as her food baby needed to settle before she considered anything close to being thrown around in a bed.

Azriel stood, the delivery bag in hand, to make his way to the spacious kitchen attached to the living room. The flat Gwyn and Az shared was previously Az’s alone. He works a demanding, but well-paying job which brought him a fantastic apartment with only little spare time to enjoy it. Which is why Gwyn cherished these little moments and every date night she got to spend with him.

Azriel returned to the couch, two glasses of wine in his hands, and carefully sat down next to her. A little closer than before, Gwyn noted with delight. He handed her the wine and they clicked glasses, smiling fondly at each other. Just as Gwyn leaned into give her attentive boyfriend a well-earned kiss, a sudden weight being dropped into her lap made her squeal. Azriel let out a huffed laugh, “Stop squealing, you’ll scare her. She just wants to say hi.”

Azriel’s black cat, fittingly (both in appearance and behavior) named Shadow, purred as she nudged her little furry head against Gwyn’s chest. The demand was clear. Gwyn chuckled, set down her glass and began fondling the cat’s head.

Azriel threw her a pointed look. “I would have jumped onto your lap an hour ago if that’s what’s getting your attention.”

She replied, “Oh, but that would only work if you were a little hairier and a little less heavy.”

Azriel gasped, offended. “Are you calling me fat?”, his hands found the hem of his shirt to lift it, revealing disgustingly perfect muscles underneath. He looked at them in fake sadness. As if he didn’t know what he was doing to her and her breathing.

“I didn’t eat three main courses of take away in the time it took me to eat only one.”, she countered. Shadow, seemingly annoyed with the loud noises her owners made, tippled back to the bedroom.

Azriel winced, “Yeah, true. I had to skip lunch today, so I had to get in some more calories with this.” Gwyn felt a little pull at her heart at his words. He was overworking himself, just like she thought he would.

“That much going on, huh?”, she moved closer to him, throwing her legs across his lap and massaging his scalp for a little relaxation. Azriel extended his arm to pull her closer to his side, then he closed his eyes and melted into Gwyn’s capable fingers.

Apparently, he didn’t want to talk about it. But that was fine, she understood that now. Azriel was the quiet sort, the one to think thoroughly about something before sharing it with his loved ones, usually to not burden or stress them. She also knew that in times when he wouldn’t allow for any mental support, she could settle for some physical affection.

They both sat engulfed in each other’s company for a while, Gwyn’s hands and fingernails drawing lazy circles in Azriel’s hair, while they refocused on their show and occasionally nipped at their wine. A newcomer to the Island was introduced now, another one of those picture-perfect males that, before she met Az, she was sure didn’t exist in the wild. He had a weird name, Hunt, but the girls were all over him immediately.

“All the girls and even half the guys look like they’re about to drool on the poor guy.”, Azriel chuckled, “Reminds me of you, when we started dating.”

Gwyn sat up with a start, pulling away her legs and hands in the process. Azriel let out a little whine at that and tried to catch her limbs in midair to pull her back.

“I. Never. Drooled. Especially not over you.”, she argued, bringing some space between them for emphasize.

“Oh, nevermind I guess I worded it wrong. What would you call nearly stumbling over your own feet, blushing like mad and drawing little cinnamon drawings in my coffee every time you saw me at the café? Simping, maybe?”

Gwyn let out a loud laugh, just because everything he just said was nothing but the truth. “Damn, it was that obvious, yeah?”

“Quite, but only after two weeks or so.”, he allowed her at least some of her dignity.

Gwyn remembered the time well. She had never felt so alive, buzzing with excitement every morning she got to work. It was at a time too, when she was new in town and slightly intimidated and homesick. Working as a waitress at the Dawn café was her way of earning some extra money while she started her internship in the archives of the city. It had been the best decision of her life, despite the early morning shifts and the constant temptation of the little cakes and sweets they served. She had not only met Azriel there, but also her coworker and now best friend Emerie. She smiled to herself thinking of the time. She could almost smell the bitter aroma of coffee.

“Gwyn? Where is the new batch of the cinnamon rolls?”, Emerie called from behind the counter.

“Oh, I damn it. I left them in the back. Sorry Em!”, Gwyn replied, making an apologetic face towards her very friendly, but sometimes very strict coworker. She had been slow all morning and apparently that didn’t change when she got to work at 5:50 am.

She was currently wiping down the tables near the ginormous windows to prepare for the café to open. It was only her second week of employment, but she loved it here. The place had such an inviting atmosphere, the costumers were mostly friendly and the coworkers too, her favorite of them now coming out from behind the counter to turn their sign form ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

“Would you stay in front for the first hour or so while I manage our stock in the back?”, Em asked, already turning back to the door. The first hour is always manageable, as only very few people braved the streets at 6am. She nodded her understanding and took her place behind the counter, preparing the coffee.

The first few minutes, nothing noteworthy happened. A couple came in to buy two croissants, then a maintenance worker asked for his coffee to go. Gwyn just found her work flow, now slowly starting to look and think more alive. Then she saw him.

It was a bit like a shadow entered the bright and lively Dawn. An impertinent wall of black against the pastel colors of the café. And it, no he, moved towards the counter. To her.

“Good morning. Can I get a large cup of coffee to drink here?”, his voice was flat. Gwyn was awake suddenly. How- just how??

“Morning, of course”, thankfully she managed to make her voice sound semi-normal, “would you like anything else with your coffee? Maybe something to eat?”

“Nah, that’ll be it.”, he handed her five pounds with a slight smile and turned towards a seat at the window with a “Keep the change.”

Gwyn moved through the steps to brew the coffee on auto pilot, before making her way to the impossibly hot costumer. With a thanks, he took the coffee and proceeded to swipe on his phone.

Gwyn hid behind the counter. Now she finally had time to process this guy.

He sat half faced towards her, and she tried to check him out in the least intrusive and annoying way possible. Jet black hair, short in the neck, longer on top of the head, so that some bits slightly curled. He had broad shoulders and some kind of tattoo sticking out beneath the seam of a black uniform. She didn’t recognize it, maybe something to do with law enforcement? But the most striking of it all was his face. It was perfection, like some of the Greek god statues she had seen copies of in the archives had come to life to grace the people on earth. Sharp in every feature, just his eyes softened his look a bit. They had the color of honey.

She needed to get a grip. And fast, too.

More costumers streamed in a couple of minutes after the arrival of the god. That gave her something to do for a while. The café now filled with more voices and laughter. But she still couldn’t help to glance at him every now and then, just to verify that she didn’t dream him up.

When Emerie joined her to serve at 8am, and the god was already gone, she found a calm minute to describe him to her.

Emerie laughed at her face. “Not you too, please. Everyone is obsessed with that guy. You definitely didn’t make him up.”

“So he comes here more often?”, she inquired. Gwyn hadn’t seen him in her first week at all.

“Yeah, he is a regular. Sometimes he ditched for one-two weeks, but he always comes back. Maybe he is out of town sometimes.”, she glanced at Gwyn and leaned in to whisper, “Do you plan on making a move? No-one dared until now.”

Gwyn didn’t know. She really didn’t. She used to be good with people, with guys - something happened last year that made her keep her distance. But maybe it was time to close that distance again.

Azriel’s phone rang, interrupting some well-needed one on one time. Gwyn let out a small whine as Azriel detangled himself from her to reach for the coffee table. Immediately, the sweet, attentive and fun boyfriend disappeared to make way for the stone-faced agent.

“Night speaking.”, he answered the phone, threw a little apologetic look at Gwyn and left for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Gwyn sat up, missing the comfortable weight of her boyfriend’s body on her, and combed through her hair with her fingers. She pleaded to the gods or whomever will listen for Azriel to not have to go into work right now. His stupid boss with his stupid emergencies interrupted more than one date night during the time of their relationship. Azriel was, apparently, too vital for the operation to work too long without him. She smiled a little, the thought making her very proud of him.

But he also desperately needed some time to relax. Preferably with her. Even more preferably in her.

Azriel’s muffled voice receded behind the bedroom wall. He opened the door, and plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. Gwyn prepared herself for everything from ‘bad’ to ‘worst’, bad being he had to go into work tonight for a few hours, ‘worst’ being he had to pack. And packing usually brought a two week separation with it.

“So, I will need to do some work on the computer now. They want my approval for a mission plan.”, he threw her a pained glance, “I’m so sorry, love. I will make it up to you later, okay? Will you stay up?”

Gwyn kissed him softly. It really wasn’t his fault that he was so damn good at his job, and she didn’t want him to feel to down because of it. “Sure, that sounds fine. At least I get to keep you in close proximity.”

“Thanks for understanding.”, he took her hand to press a kiss on the back of her hand and then made his way to the small office.

Gwyn had some alone time at her hands now. And she knew exactly how she wanted to spend it. She sneaked to the kitchen, found what she was looking for with a triumphant grin, and plopped back on the couch. She turned on her favorite old-school movie and then worked her way through the sweet treat she brought herself from the kitchen. A chocolate croissant.

She always had a sweet tooth. And the time she spent working in the café taught her more than one thing about baking them. The croissant was the costumer’s favorite too, and she understood why with all her heart and soul. Well, one costumer hadn’t been too keen on it. But then again, he hadn’t been too keen on any of the baked goods there.

It had infuriated her at the time. Azriel’s stoic persistence on the one cup of coffee, with nothing sweet to counter the bitterness of it. She had tried multiple times to convince him on a cake, without any luck. If he could see her now, he would sure as hell make a comment.

“Morning! The usual?”, Gwyn greeted the god from her place behind the counter as he stepped into the empty café.

“Good morning. The usual please.”, he confirmed with one of those stupidly pretty half smirks he liked to present her with. Today marked the 7th time that he drank his coffee with Gwyn being the barista. Not that she counted.

The god proceeded to place the usual five pound note on the table. The coffee actually just cost half of that, but he insisted on giving her the tip every time. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at him when she took the money and thanked him. She noted, very pleased with herself, that he seemed to linger near Gwyn longer each day before taking his place by the window.

She busied herself making the coffee.

Gwyn had decided yesterday evening. That she wanted to make her move. She arranged her hair more carefully this morning, throwing the locks of auburn hair into a bun, with a few strands to frame her face. She put on her favorite good-luck necklace. Her makeup stayed minimal, but she put on some highlighter to let her face glow. All that was a good start, but she had no idea how to actually interact with him. Should she just ask him out on a date? Should she try to flirt with him before?

As she eyed the coffee and the little layer of foam that coated the surface, a brilliant idea struck her. She would go for the slow, steady approach. Her way of flirting.

She took the cinnamon they usually used to sprinkle the hot chocolate with and went to work.

After a minute she proudly admired her work. The cinnamon was arranged on the foam in the shape of a crescent with a little star in the corner. Carefully, she brought her creation to the god. She placed it. But was too chicken to stay there and wait for his reaction, so she fled back behind the counter. Baby steps, she reminded herself.

That day, and a little shiver went down Gwyn’s spine remembering it even after months had passed, he went out of his way to say his goodbyes to her (and Emerie). He had made his way back to the counter to do so, even though more costumers were flowing in the café.

Gwyn was ecstatic. Was it the equivalent of a bold pick-up line? No, but it was something delicate, something sweet to take the bitter edge from his coffee. And little did she know, it took the edge of the bitterness of his life too.

The days passed in a whirl of activity. Gwyn worked hard at the café, the archives and during her therapy lessons. She figured that, with a possibility of a date on the horizon, she should put in some extra effort in that area of her life. And then hopefully not get triggered if he decides to put a hand on her back or something, should they actually go on a date.

Everything went well. Everything was just cherries on top for her. Each day that the god took his coffee at the Dawn, she created a little picture for him with the cinnamon. She built her skill slowly, going from the basic ‘sun, moon and star’ to more elaborate motives. One morning, she even managed to draw a little cat. And in the evenings, that where before occupied by heavy silence and sleepless nights, she found herself dreaming of the next morning.

But he never said anything about the cinnamon art. He was polite, charming, but never took a metaphorical step towards her. Maybe he thought that’s how she treats every costumer? That the art was a new thing the café trained its baristas in?

On Wednesday morning, 6.25am, when the god entered the café to pay for and drink his coffee, she decided to be bold. To be unmistakably forward.

As the god took his seat, she took the cinnamon and wrote a little message for him, instead of her usually art. She thought the message through a long time, it would have to be brief, cut straight to the point she wanted to get across. But what did she want to get across? That she wanted a date? But that didn’t fit the cup.

‘ur cute’, was what ended up on the foam. It allowed him some room of interpretation and wasn’t pushy, but still conveyed her interest. With her heart almost beating out of her chest and into the coffee, she placed the cup in front of him. Damn, was it a good idea? He looked up from his phone to say his thanks, but Gwyn was already turned around and made her way to the back of the café.

“Emerie, Emerie, Emerie”, she squealed, trying desperately to stay quiet as she found her coworker backing a new tray of almond cookies.

“What is it?”, Emerie turned around in shock, eyes wide, “did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“No, not exactly. My pride might take a hit in a few minutes and I’m not sure if I am ready for that.”, she then told Emerie what she did, pacing up and down in front of the oven. “Can you please take over outside, I’ll finish the baking. But please only call for me when he left the café.”

Emerie agreed, but smiled at the antics of her friend. She was so bold, so unapologetically herself, but that guy made her freak.

Gwyn gave her a brief hug of thanks, both girls going back to work after the intrusion. After half an hour, Emerie called her back to the front.

“He’s gone. Are you okay with cleaning his table, or should I?”, Em gestured to the table by the window. Gwyn wasn’t afraid of it, as long as its occupant was not in the picture.

She made her way to the table; lifted the cup to inspect the napkin underneath and see if it was still usable, but found it used. But not in the usual way. Written on the napkin with a small, accurate handwriting was a phone number. Gwyn froze and stared, and stared, and stared, until she fully understood the message of the number. She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her grin, also mentally keeping herself from jumping up and down in excitement in a half-full café. He had left his number, for her.

Or was it for someone else? The grin left Gwyn as fast as it came a second ago. It should be addressed at her, she was usually serving him. But maybe he meant it for Emerie? Or Jada, the other barista that sometimes worked the morning shift with them?

There was only one way to find out. Gwyn pocketed the napkin, and during the day, she always found herself toying with it in her downtime. She would call him soon.

****

“When I’m finished in the bathroom, I want you on your knees in front of the bed, not a single piece of clothing in slight, understood?”, Azriel murmured close to Gwyn’s ear, before letting her free of his embrace and making his way to the bathroom door. Gwyn preened with excitement. Her boyfriend had finished work 10 minutes ago, went straight to her to pull her into a passionate kiss, and somehow, they ended up here. With his command being her pleasure.

Gwyn was buzzing with anticipation, she took her clothing off one by one on the way to the bedroom, before kneeling on the carpet floor. She immensely enjoyed the games they played, be it with Azriel in the dominant role or herself. Gwyn never thought that she would be able to have sex the way that Azriel proposed to her a few months after they started sleeping together, but with the right person and the level of trust that they had, it was exhilarating.

Azriel entered the room, now only his joggers, his artful tattoos on display. He stayed silent for a while, letting his love sit through her increasing nerves. Then he finally spoke.

“I really didn’t want to have to punish you tonight, you know?”

Shit, what did she do wrong? Gwyn’s thoughts raced, but nothing she did the past two days would be deserving of a punishment. She didn’t dare speak however, she didn’t have permission yet anyways. With her knees sinking in the carpet and her hands met together behind her back, she stayed perfectly still in the hopes that that appeased him somehow. It didn’t.

“But little brats who leave a trail of clothes on the floor don’t deserve anything else, I’m afraid.”, Azriel had paced behind her back now, out of sight.

Gwyn mentally both scolded and congratulated herself for leaving the clothes on the floor. Scolding, because Azriel was one to see through with his threats, and congratulating, because Azriel saw through with his threats.

He gathered Gwyn’s hair in his big hands from his position, tying it in a ponytail. His fingers brushed her neck, making her shiver. Azriel moved again, this time to kneel in front of her. His fingers now found her chin to lift it. So she could stare into his honey eyes which held a darker cast over them. She dared to hold his gaze.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, love?”, his voice matched his eye color as he called her by her nickname.

“I’m sorry for leaving my clothing on the floor. It won’t happen again, Sir.”, her voice betrayed her. It quivered slightly under his intense gaze. His fingers moved from her chin to lightly caress her throat now, dipping to her collarbones every now and then. Gwyn already felt wetness coating her sex without him even touching her much.

“Mh, what a nice little apology. I’m not sure you meant it though. Stand.”, he ordered, raising up himself to tower over her.

Gwyn scrambled to her feet, muscles straining to keep her hands still firmly behind her back. She had learned that particular lesson two weeks ago.

He came closer to her, hands to her waist and mouth by her ear, “You remember the safe word?”, he broke character just enough to remind her of her way out, should she not want this.

Oh, but she did.

“Red, Sir.”, she murmured. Azriel nodded.

“Lay on the bed, stomach facing the sheets. You may use your hands.”, Gwyn obeyed. He still wanted to play a little nice today if he allowed her to use her hands for this. She was so relieved, she didn’t notice Azriel going over to the wardrobe to pull out a blindfold. Nice indeed.

Gwyn felt the bed dip slightly as he lowered himself on it. His hand wandered featherlight from her ankles, over her thighs, grazed her ass to find the middle of her back and continue to her neck. He found the ponytail and pulled to lift her face from the sheet with enough force to make it hurt slightly, but never too much. The command was clear though: hold your head up.

Azriel tied the blindfold over her eyes, making her effectively defenseless against him. The anticipation nearly killed her. In this compromising position, it will take Az only a couple of well-placed caresses for her to scream out his name in pleasure.

She felt his body hovering over her. The she felt his lips. First placing on kiss to her neck, then her shoulder blades, slowly working downwards. If that was supposed to be her punishment, she would gladly take it. But she never got away so easily.

Az had worked himself to her spine, licking over the spot before receding from her body completely. Gwyn’s breathing was heavy already, her breath further restricted through lying on her stomach.

“You’re going to count to five for me, love.”, he commanded, voice low and quiet.

Then she felt a zap of pain going through her as Azriel’s hand connected sharply with her rear. Gwyn whimpered, already mentally readying herself for the next blow, but instead his hands lightly brushed over the spot to soothe it. He knew exactly where to strike to make it good for her, knew his strength enough to not hurt. Never hurt seriously.

She found enough breath to mutter, ”One.”

The next slap echoed through her body, shock waves going up her spine and straight down to her throbbing clit. The burn was reduced again immediately with Azriel stroking over it. “Two.”, her voice was barely audible. But only he needed to hear her.

“You are doing so good for me love.”, he praised her, leaning down to place a little kiss on both of her cheeks before resuming to paint them red with his hands. Gwyn counted down the last three of the slaps, body deliciously aching, with Azriel praising her strength. All that was left of her brain was liquid. When the last of the slaps resided, Azriel’s lips came down to kiss her spine again.

“Good girl.”, he muttered. Gwyn practically glowed from making him proud, her praise kink nearly as strong as Azriel’s. She felt him crawling up her body again, both of his hands caging her in, hovering over her.

And then – nothing.

All she felt was his body over her, his heat radiating into her naked frame. But he didn’t touch her, he didn’t say anything, didn’t undress himself. It was infuriating. She knew he was doing it on purpose, to leave her all riled up and wondering. He wanted to have her begging. And Gwyn was already at the point where she would do exactly that.

“Azriel, please.”, she whispered into the thin air, hoping it would reach him.

“Azriel please -What?”, he shot back immediately, voice hard and unyielding.

Gwyn gulped. “Please touch me.”

Azriel touched her. On her fucking hands. Gwyn groaned in frustration and swore she could actually feel his shit-eating grin over her shoulder.

“One more try, love?”, he coaxed.

“Please touch me between my legs.”, she managed to get out before going still again in anticipation.

His lips came to her ear once more to whisper, “Spread them for me then.” Still on her stomach, she obeyed and spread her legs, whining at the loss of friction that had been her only form of release for the last minutes, but begging for his touch.

Then, Azriel’s broad fingers finally, finally, wandered between her legs, drawing little circles on the inside of her thighs. What he felt there made him chuckle softly, “Already so wet for me that you dripped down your legs? And here I was, thinking the punishment was a real punishment.”

“Always for you, Sir.”, Gwyn breathed, hoping the submissive admission would incline him to play nice. A rumble went through Azriel’s chest at her words, and his fingers grazed her sex. Gwyn couldn’t help moaning. And she didn’t stop for a long time after she started.

Azriel continued to move his fingers up and down her sex, spreading her lips to have a better access to her clit. He honed in on it, alternating between pressing down lightly and circling. He moved through her with ease, thanks to her wetness. Gwyn’s breathing turned ragged, one of her hands wandered across the sheets to find something to hold on to, something to ground her against these feelings that made her spiral sky-high. She found Azriel’s hand that lifted his body off hers, and interlaced her fingers with his. He allowed the contact. Technically, actively seeking out his touch was forbidden, but she couldn’t care less as his finger found her entrance and circled it, occasionally dipping in, but staying way too shallow.

“Sir, please. I want you inside me.”, it took everything in Gwyn to form that whole sentence and remembering her manners.

“As my good girl wishes.”, this time it was Azriel who obeyed her. He never could refuse her for too long. Two of his fingers stretched her, inner walls fluttering and contracting at the sudden contact. He pumped them in and out for a while, sometimes curling inside of her. His fingers sometimes drew out for a moment to pay some more attention to her clit again, before delving back in. Gwyn didn’t hear the wet sound she produced over her moaning and whimpering.

Suddenly, she felt a loss of contact, leaving her body yearning and shaking. Two strong hands gripped her hips and flipped her over, so she lay on her back, legs still spread. She was beginning to panic at her vulnerability. Her sight was taken from her for too long.

“Sir, can I see you please?”, it was worth a try. Azriel must have heard the slight edge in her voice as she felt gentle fingers prying the blindfold away from her eyes and over her head. Gwyn took a moment to adjust her eyes again, even though the room was only dimly lit. Azriel hovered over her, his knees bracketed on either side of her hips. “You okay love?”, he was still clad in his joggers that now bore an impressive bulge, chest heaving just as heavily as hers was. Gwyn nodded her okay, but he wasn’t having any of it. “You know to use your words when I ask that.”, he scolded, but his eyes were soft.

“I’m okay.”, Gwyn breathed and even managed to show him a little smile. Azriel nodded, sufficiently happy. He was quick to connect their lips together in a fiery kiss, tongues darting out to play with each other for a moment. Gwyn wanted nothing more to sink her hands in his hair, letting them roam his shoulders and back, on his chest trailing downwards.

“Go on, touch me.”, Azriel mumbled in between kisses to her mouth and her neck. He had this uncanny ability to know exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. But Gwyn used the freedom he granted her to explore his chest, grazing her fingers over the taunt muscles and extracting a shiver from him. By the looks of it, not only she was ready to explode any second.

“What do you want love?”

Gwyn didn’t even have to think. “I want you inside me now, fast and hard.”

When Azriel raised his eyebrows at her, she added her “Sir” hastily. Apparently, that was enough for him now as he pushed himself up from her to step out of his joggers, the considerable length of his cock springing free. He touched himself, pumping slowly up and down a few times while his eyes trailed over Gwyn’s spread-out body. “My gorgeous little girl.”, he mumbled, probably more to himself than to her, but Gwyn still smiled at the endearment.

He was over and in her within the span of two seconds. Gwyn vision blurred, pressure already building in her lower back and abdominal parts as he slid home, right to the hilt. Azriel brought his forehead down to rest against hers, eyes closed, and pounded into her. Gwyn loved every second of it, craned her head up to kiss him on the lips again, to have all her senses surrounded by him.

“Fuck, Gwyn.”, he mumbled, still sinking his cock deep into her with every thrust. Gwyn wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips slightly, sending both of them groaning at the new deeper angle this allowed. His thrusts became even faster and harder, until Gwyn only managed to murmur his name over and over and over again.

Until the pressure that built couldn’t built any longer and came crashing down on her. With one last “Azriel!”, breathing labored, she came undone under him. Azriel followed a few thrusts after her, spilling his release into her with a loud roar.

After a few seconds he slid out of her carefully and plopped on the bed next to her, chest still heaving. That pretty half smirk grazed his lips as he looked over to her. “Everything okay?”, Gwyn nodded, herself also smiling.

Azriel got up, walked around the bed to Gwyn’s side, and before she could comprehend what his intention was, he had lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the bathroom and sat her on the toilet to pee (which Gwyn learned the hard way to always do after sexual activities) while cleaning himself up and throwing on a pair of boxer briefs.

“Do you want to finish watching your movie, or would you rather go to sleep now?”, he asked while Gwyn sneakily threw one of his larger shirts over her. That was her favorite part of aftercare, his scent and warmth engulfing her even after they had gone to bed.

“I’m not too tired yet, lets watch the movie.”, she answered, brushing past him to the living area. “’Not too tired’, that hurt Berdara. I should give you more work next time.”, he grumbled, following her and slapping her rear lightly.

Gwyn laughed. “You could do that, but next time it’s my turn, in case you don’t remember.”, she smiled wickedly, already forming plans on how to make him beg.

“How could I forget, Miss.”, he replied. Apparently, he was already warming up.

They snuggled together on the couch for the remainder of the movie. Gwyn almost drifting to sleep, but she wouldn’t allow Azriel the satisfaction of that. After the movie had ended, and both settled into bed, Azriel still had the nerve to take out his phone, probably checking his always full email account.

“Will you actually get the day off tomorrow, or will they find an excuse to steal you away from me again?”, she asked into the dark.

“I’m all yours tomorrow, come what may. But I still need to keep up to date.”, Azriel reached his hand out to stroke her arm soothingly. Gwyn propped herself up on her elbow to steal a little glance at Azriel’s phone, but instead of his work stuff, his gallery was opened. He was probably searching for some work-related screenshots, but Gwyn had a different idea. Quickly, she snatched the phone away from him to open one particular folder of pictures. She remembered him calling her a simp earlier this evening and found the perfect material for a counterattack.

Azriel had a folder on his phone dedicated only to the various different coffee arts she did for him. He never missed one, starting from the crescent moon, of course including the cat, and ending with the ‘ur cute’. Triumphant, she showed him the screen. “Remember calling me a simp?”

Azriel laughed and grabbed for the phone, scrolling his way through the pictures. “I remember that one, it took me all day to figure out what it was supposed to be.”

Gwyn gasped in mocking shock. “What do you mean, it’s most definitely a tree!”

“But it could also be a puddle, or a cloud, or…”, he started, interrupted from the pillow Gwyn threw in his face. His laugh was muffled.

“It hurts me, how non-appreciative you are of my art and love for you.”, she informed him, propping the pillow back under her head.

Azriel leaned towards her to peck her nose. “I am very appreciative of it, you know that. It used to be the highlight of my day. Of course now, every hour I am with you is the highlight.” All laughter was forgotten, replaced by a deep understanding of each other. “And I was obsessed with you even before you started with the art.”

“I KNEW it!”, she didn’t know it at the time, but she could pretend to have the upper hand now.

She did remember her nerves the day she decided to call his number. How she asked him out on a date and then had to go to a boxing class to work away the adrenalin that was left from it. But her story had a happy ending, and she could laugh about her freakout in hindsight.

He didn’t pick up. After it took Gwyn a meditation practice and a little sip of wine to finally dial the number, he didn’t pick up. But it also felt wrong to leave a message, she would have to be more prepared for that. Like, actually writing out a little speech to recite after the beep. And she just knew that she would hopelessly ramble on, sabotaging her shot at the god.

Gwyn was currently sat by the little reading nook at the window, looking out to the busy street. Was 8pm a weird time to call someone? She just finished eating dinner, her work at the city archives had run late today. Maybe his work kept him occupied too?

Gwyn tried to pick up a book to let some time pass before she’d try again. Or would she come off as too pushy, calling twice in one evening? She put down the book and settled to pace up and down her window instead. She even crewed her nails a little.

When her phone rang, she nearly jumped. Taking a few steadying breaths before picking up, she finally accepted the call. “Hello, it’s Gwyn.”

“Gwyn! WHAT did he say?”, it was in fact not the god, but Emerie screaming through the phone right now. Gwyn’s stomach did a little drop.

“Emerie, you scared the crap out of me. I tried to reach him but he didn’t pick up. I want to wait a few minutes before trying again?”

“Oh dear, and I bet you got all hyped up now that I called you.”, she laughed, “well, maybe, if you call him now, you’ll be more calm.” Gwyn doubted that.

The girls chatted for a couple of minutes, Emerie telling her about the rest of her day and that she actually made plans for a blind date. Apparently, she had more luck in love than Gwyn tonight. They said their goodbyes.

Gwyn dialed again.

And, again, reached the voicemail.

Signing, she gave up on the thought of being able to ask him on a date today. Her phone on the coffee table, she readied herself for bed. Doubt started creeping in on her. What if he changed his mind and didn’t want anything to do with her?

Just when she settled in the sheets with a nice calming cup of tea, her phone went off again. Gwyn made sure to check the caller ID this time.

“Hello, its Gwyn.”

“Gwyn?”, she would have recognized that voice anywhere by now, “Hey, it’s the guy from Dawn.”

“I know, I know.”, every cell in her body was working on not making this awkward, “I tired to reach you earlier.”

“Yeah, sorry I missed that. I usually have to lock my private phone away when I’m at work.”, the god explained. “I’m glad you called though. I was wondering if just leaving my number would convince you to do so.”

“Well, it did. I am glad my coffee art convinced you.”, a smile crept into Gwyn’s face and she sat up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She was actually speaking with him. And it was surprisingly easy to do so. Very un-god like.

“It did. I would have asked you out in person, but I didn’t see you again in the café after you served me. And I also didn’t want to ask your colleague to fetch you like some kind of creep.”, Gwyn could practically feel his half smirk through her speaker.

“I appreciate that.”, a little pause, then she added, “So, you wanted to ask me out?”

“Straight to the point yeah?”, she could definitely feel his smirk, “Gwyn, I think you are the cutest person I have ever met in my life and I would love to take you out on a date. This Friday, if you’re free. And if you want to, of course.”

Gwyn reigned herself in to not interrupt him with a deafening “YES” while he was talking to her. Composed, at least she hoped that’s what she sounded like, she answered, “I would love to go out with you. Friday works just fine. I’m at work until 5pm.”

They quickly exchanged their addresses and worked out a time and a place to meet on Friday night. Just before they ended their call, a though struck Gwyn. She had been so used to calling him ‘god’ in her mind that she didn’t even notice.

“Well, I am looking forward to see you. By the way, what’s your name?”

The god laughed, “Fuck, I didn’t even tell you that, did I?” Gwyn liked to pretend that was because he was nervous for this call as well. “My name is Azriel.”

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #acotar writing #modern au #azriel x gwyn #smut #acotar smut

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button-kin-games · 3 months

Text

TTRPG Industry Corner: Substack, “ceding space”, and POSSE

The observant among you will have noticed that this is not available on Substack. If you’ve been following the discourse over there then you know why. If not, FYI: the owners of the platform have publicly announced that they’re just fine letting nazis use their platform as a promotional space for nazi ideology.

Substack say they believe that the best way to defeat nazis is to engage them in public debate. Which leads the cynic in me to conclude that they must never once have tried debating a committed nazi online, and then leads the even BIGGER cynic nestled inside the first one to observe that a series of endless, heated debates between nazis and not-nazis has never done a platform any harm. Quite the opposite. Engagement is engagement, content is content. Those things combined are money.

Look, you do you. If you want to hang out online and debate nazis then have at it. Just bear in mind that they’re not nazis because no one ever told them that their ideas are monstrous and wrong. In fact they definitely hear that a lot. They often have pre-prepared answers for everything you want to say. They’ve had this argument more often than you have. It’s not that there’s nothing to be done about nazis, but debating them on the internet ain’t it.

So I moved. I know a lot of my lefty peers in the indie TTRPG scene are holding their nose and sticking with it. I get that. We’re all tired of decamping every time the shitlord who owns our current outlet of barely-any-choice decides to make his shitlord-ness everyone else’s problem. No platform is perfect, and besides: I’m not a full time designer, I have a day job which gives me means to pay for Buttondown (the only newsletter provider so far who’ve said they will kick nazis out if they find them), and my audience is small enough to be easily and inexpensively portable. The whole calculation is different for me than for others.

However, I do disagree with several arguments I’ve seen (and heard repeated IRL) about “ceding space”. Because internet platforms don’t have a finite amount of space. So you, a not-nazi, being present on one absolutely doesn’t mean fewer nazis will be. It might look like there are fewer because they aren’t the only thing on the timeline, but that’s all. Meanwhile the content you add draws an audience to the platform, growing the user base via network effects, making said platform more influential and successful. More essential. And a rising tide lifts all ships, as we often say.

I take heart from the valuable lessons floating about in the wake of multiple major platform death spirals. People are talking a lot more about owning their own audience, not being reliant on privately owned spaces. Newsletter lists are a great way to do that. I’ve also been made aware of a principle called POSSE: Post Own Site, Share Everywhere. Cory Doctorow talks about it convincingly, and if it works for him…

So with that in mind I’ve greatly expanded where you’ll be able to access these posts. My own site, your inbox, Medium, Tumblr. I even got an RSS feed up and running. If one goes down (or becomes a nazi bar) then I’ll look out for another to replace it. It’s more work that way, but hopefully it’ll pay off in terms of a greater sense of stability.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg community

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sparklingchim · 2 years

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Hopping onto the lwh-baby-discourse, what was oc’s reaction to the first times jk called her baby

maybe like this? :

You scrunch your nose, puffing annoyed.

"What's the matter?" Jungkook asks, immediately picking up on your frustration.

"What do you have for number four?"

Jungkook scans his sheet, which is completely inscribed with numbers and his handwriting. He flips back a few pages when he doesn't find what he's looking for.

"You're that far already?" you say, eyes wide.

"Yeah, well, I'm not highlighting and underlining every single thing with some pastel marker," he answers.

"But see how manageable my homework looks now? Definitely better than your illegible scribbles." You steal a sheet from him and scribble a little heart with your rose coloured marker on the corner. He's so to this by now. Every time Jungkook and you do your homework together, there are little doodles of you on almost every one of his sheets. "Looks cute, right?"

He hums mindlessly, sparing your little drawing only a brief look. "Here," Jungkook says, holding a paper in front of you. "For number four I've got eight."

You take his paper to examine how he solved the problem and Jungkook continues doing the math homework.

Your brows furrow when you're done comparing his way of solving the problem to yours. You don't understand what he has calculated to get that result.

You huff, eyes aimlessly wandering over the few people that are sitting in the library, doing either homework or studying for a test.

Somehow your gaze stops at Jungkook and you watch him from the side, his brows drawn together in deep concentration as he moves his wrist swiftly to fill the blank space with letters and numbers.

He looks so pretty, you think, when he has his attention completely focused on one thing. Even if it's as boring as math homework, Jungkook is able to become fully invested in it.

"What's wrong?" he asks without looking at you.

"I don't understand how you solved this," you talk in a a pout, voice quiet.

Once Jungkook puts his pen down and looks up from his homework, his knitted eyebrows ease and a tender expression fills his face.

"Baby," he says ever so gently. A little smile forms on his lips as he takes in your sulkiness.

Your soft features that were twisted into frustration changes into perplexity. Your eyes widen the slightest bit and Jungkook thinks you've never looked this adorable before.

"W-what?" you ask hesitantly, unsure of how to react to the new pet name. Though you can't deny the rush of excitement running through you.

"You look like a baby. Helpless and vulnerable." He chuckles lightly when he sees stubbornness settling on your face, you're pout only growing bigger.

"I don't look like a baby," you sulk. "Just, help me...please?" You push your sheet to him, sliding it over the paper he was just doing his homework on.

"Sure." He picks up the pen again and pulls your chair closer to his.

Before he starts explaining, he turns to you and squishes your mouth with his fingers digging into your cheeks.

You utter a sound of complaint, pushing his arm away.

"You're so cute," Jungkook smiles, scrunching his nose at you.

"And you're fucking annoying."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Want to try to solve this problem without my help?" He places his fingers on the paper, pretending to push it back in front of you.

You grab his wrist. "No, please." With pleading eyes you're looking up at him. "Explain it to me please?"

He grins smugly at your obedience. "I guess I have to since you're such a dummy for not being able to solve this easy problem."

The yelp that bubbles from Jungkook's lips after you smack him on the back of the head earns you both a stern look from the librarian.

#this has been in my drafts for SO long #im so sorry omg #darly asks #anon #fic: long way home #totally forgot that i wrote this until i went through my drafts #long way home drabble

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eepy-pleepy · 3 years

Text

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

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