karavani



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    A groan comes from below him, low and deep, and it has him freezing up completely and blinking, before whipping to glance down at what was underneath him.

    Correction; at what he was sitting /atop of/.

    He could feel it properly, now that he wasn’t distracted by the adrenaline rush, now that everything was stilling around him—them. He could feel the hips he was straddling, the lower stomach his ass was stationed on, and the hands that had somehow, intentionally or not, attached themselves to his waist.

    Jabber’s hands. Jabber’s hands that were on his waist. Jabber’s hips that he was straddling. Jabber that he was situated atop of.

    Jabber’s face—which was inches away from Zanka’s own, and purple eyes open to meet his blue.

     

    [or, that one stuck in a tight space fic that every fandom eventually gets]

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    25 Jan 2026