#and so to keep them warm but also to allow their outline/skin to heal

[babblable]

Fuzzy Baby is BACK!

[sunsents]

The Cardigan - F.W 18+

My first ever post and it's a goddamn smut one shot. This has been in my Wattpad drafts for way too long (wrote it three-four months ago), it's not the best, and I'm not proud of the writing but et eez what et eez. I really wan't to start publishing my work and gotta start somewhere. Also the smut is shitty, and the dirty talk is just goddamn vile. Also I'm a horny mf.

Summary ---> "Is that mine? You look better in it than me, that's for sure." An intimate night with Fred after you guys find the house all to yourselves. This is just pure filth, like scroll if you wan't plot. 🌚

Pairing: fred weasley/fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut / overstim if u squint / cursing / thigh tiding / dirty talk / fred being a horny little shit / an attempt at innuendos / hand-job / cum play (?) / like one ass slap

Rating: 18+

DON'T REPOST MY WORK

The bathroom at the Weasley's were quite cramped, but you didn't care. Your shower was more than satisfactory, the wavering smell of Mrs. Weasley cooking downstairs mixing with the wonderful scent of Fred's shampoo. The hot water loosened all your fatigued muscles - those extra hours out on the field playing Quidditch was worth it - your muscles were taut, flexing wonderfully whenever you lifted your arm to rinse off the products in your hair.

When you opened the door of the bathroom, clouds of hot air escaping and surrounding the small corridor, you were surprised to hear no footsteps, loud chattering of your friends and the usual plates clinking in the kitchen. You figured going downstair naked wouldn't be a good idea, and entered Ginny's room.

The disheveled bedroom was empty, and you looked out the window to the vast garden and wheat fields that got darker with the hot summer night approaching. There was no sign of anyone and you were starting to get anxious. Maybe it was because of the unusual silence - the Weasley household always had some kind of chaos happening - nevertheless, you quickly slipped on some satin shorts and a soft, white knit sweater to keep the evening breezes at bay. After swiftly drying your hair with a towel - you were letting it air dry, Cosmopolitan said Cindy Crawford did it - you applied whatever product was routine for your body and left the room.

Your magical radio was playing a soft jazz from the den and immediate relief washed over you when you stepped downstairs. The creams and perfumes that stuck to your skin wafted around the air and filled the rooms with delicious essences, and your soft socks slipped and slid across the wooden floor to the kitchen as you pushed yourself with ease. You quickly caught yourself with a chair and laughed, being alone wasn't so bad, you figured you could find ways to entertain yourself.

Until, a low chuckle from the den caused you to yelp and almost fall on your ass, merlin forbid. You couldn't bear another injury after George two left feet Weasley accidentally kicked you on the shin while playing Quidditch.

Speaking of Weasley, Fred Weasley was sprawled out on the couch, wearing only his boxers and a long, loosely knitted cardigan sitting on his exposed skin. You felt your mouth water, his head was lazily thrown back, exposing his curved neck and Adam's apple, his freckles more noticeable than ever. He was staring at you, his lips tugging a smile and enjoying the show you put on. Humiliation, is what it was. You were sliding around floorings like Madame Maxine on ice.

Your blood suddenly felt on like liquid fire, and you opened the cupboards to get yourself a glass of water. "Aguamenti," you casted, and from the corner of your eye you saw Fred's gaze set on your exposed legs, trailing up to your ass that was slightly exposed from the length of your shorts. They rode up more when you stood on your toes to place the cup back on the shelf after chugging the liquid down and muttering a cleaning spell.

"Is that mine?" you cleared your throat, finishing up in the kitchen and walking over to one of the rocking chairs. You didn't know why Fred was sitting around practically naked - you didn't question because he was Fred Weasley and you were tired. You weren't complaining etiher.

"Yeah," Fred said breathlessly. "It's surprisingly comfortable."

"You look better than me in it, that's for sure." You chuckled darkly, eyeing his provocative muscles. The hickeys you had left from a few days ago were slightly healed, soft reds trailing his nape and they weren't helping the growing desire between your legs. "Where is everyone?" you asked.

Fred quickly noticed your poorly hidden lustful stares and moved the cardigan away with a sly smirk, revealing more of his abs and flexed thighs. "They went out to Diagon Ally, won't be back until ten." he said. You nodded then took a deep, shaky breath and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. You settled in your mind that maybe looking through the new season Versace bikinis would calm your lust.

Fred let out a long, erotic sigh, allowing a soft groan to escape his lips along the way. Your hand twitched, you were still oblivious to his intentions and crossed your legs for some friction. "Hey ____," Fred called out, and you hummed in response, not looking up from your magazine. You seemed to have read the same line five times now. "I think there's something in my eye, can you blow on it."

Your eyes went wide, Fred was vulgar. This was no surprise to you after dating him for almost two years, but saying something so shamelessly, no hesitation still made your heart stutter. Your imagination was running wild now, you pictured every single thing you wished to do to him at this moment, in those clothes. You quickly put your magazine down, more of slapped it on the table. "Sure, yeah." you said in a shaky voice, then stood up and walked over to him.

Fred's arms were wide on the couch, and one of them pulled your hand down when he was able to reach you. Your heart stopped for a moment, you felt herself land harshly on his thigh and the impact on your core caused a groan from the back of your throat to slip out.

Fred was rather enjoying himself, his head lazily leaning back on the pillow as he rubbed your thighs up and down, digging the pads of his fingers into your skin and causing an embarrassingly load of your juices to flow to your newly worn panties.

You readjusted yourself so the heat between your legs weren't in direct contact with his thigh. You scooted closer and had to bite back a moan when Fred jerked his leg up and applied pressure on your clit. You were trying your best not to show his effect on you, "Which eye." you hissed through gritted teeth, still pursuing his obvious lie.

Fred's shit eating grin only grew wider, and he took your hand and placed it right on his crotch. He was hard beneath his boxers, swelling bigger the second and you were fighting the urge to palm his cock. You shot him a warning look to which he playfully frowned, then gestured to his right eye. You leaned in closer, maybe he really did have something in his eye.

Fred's breathing was heavy, fanning over your lips as you tried to take a closer look. Your inspection was cut short when he gripped your waist, riding up your sweater to touch you directly. You gasped and straightened up at his rough hands kneading around your stomach. Chills were racing down your spine, you didn't want to give in just yet, just for teasing purposes, but Fred was making it unbelievable hard with his tousled hair and hooded eyes boring into yours.

Your panties felt soaked and you hoped he wouldn't notice, but when Fred gripped your shorts and pulled them down, his eyes fell on the wet fabric that was stuck to your entrance. You were painfully aware of how aroused you were, and your heated cheeks weren't helping with your embarrassment.

Fred licked his lips - his expression lust crazed - then he gripped one of your legs and guided it around his thighs, making you straddle him. He held both of your thighs and pulled you in closer, and when your knee touched his boner, it caused him to groan lowly and attempt to close the small gap between your two bodies.

You marveled at the idea of being any more closer to him, the aching on your lower abdomen making you grind yourself on his thigh, whimpering at the much needed friction. The scene looked erotic to you, Fred's finger had slithered down to your panties and moved them to the side to expose all of you, flushed and swollen. He gripped your waist again and started rocking your body on his thigh, "Ride my thigh baby, wan't you to get off on me," he said huskily, "Slow and good~"

You didn't know what else to do other than nod as much agreeable a nod could get. Fred started guiding your hips at a slow pace, not letting you fasten it once. He tutted when you tried for the second time, "Stop being impatient my love." he crooned, straightening himself up to finally meet your lips.

But you barely responded.

You were slack-jawed, your clit swollen painfully, your hips swiveling to get more contact. Pathetic really, is what it was. Fred said few words of filth and here you were, panting and rutting, thanking whoever up there to have the opportunity to ride Fred's obscenely attractive thigh. A thigh shouldn't be this attractive you thought, his skin warm and comfortable, generous muscles teasingly helping you get off. Emphasis on teasingly, he wouldn't let you have anything that easily. It was heaven and hell all at once.

Fred was sensually tracing the outline of your mouth with his tongue all the while, then dipped down and feathered kisses on your jaw that was just as slow as his pace. "Fuck, you're so filthy for this. Who knew this is all it took?" he groaned.

"You have such a responsive cunt babe, I can do whatever I want and you just lose it. Fuck-"

You were growing more frustrated the second and Fred was getting rather talkative, he ran his nose down your collarbones, sucking the supple skin into his mouth and leaving crimson marks. "Freddie please - just, mmmh!" you cried out a strangled moan, you had finally gotten what you wanted. You knew Fred could never resist the nickname, and in such a tone too.

He had started to rub your clit, his other arm wrapping around the small of your back protectively. He groaned against your neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure trailing from your marked neck all down to your feet. But Fred wasn't stupid, he had caught on rather soon and chuckled.

"Bad girl." he mocked, then gave you a light smack on your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. You landed harshly on Fred's thigh again and the moan you let out was almost painful. You clutched onto his hair as he gripped your waist and continued to rock you on his thigh.

You let him guide your movement, your juices easily allowing you to slide yourself back and forth on him, and whenever Fred would pull you forward he would apply pressure on your clit by gripping your waist tighter and pushing you down. He fastened his pace with every grind, and every huff of air you let out when your hips would come in contact. "Oh fucking hell - yes," Fred heaved, your knee must've been grazing against his cock just right because he was letting out soft groans and curse words every other second, his hefty length visible behind the fabric.

You couldn't resist, he had such an attractive dick even after seeing it so many times. You started rubbing him from the outside of his boxers, digging the pads of your fingertips into his shaft whenever you could. Fred's head rested between the slope of your breasts, and his hips bucked up at your touch, rutting desperately into your fisted hand, causing you to loudly moan out when his thigh pressed on your swollen bud.

He was barely jutting your hips at this point, barely able to focus on your pleasure from the amount he was getting. Cocky attitude gone as soon as you touched him, you made him melt under your palm. "I love you so fucking much - ohhh...holy shit, keep rubbing me like that." he moaned against your skin, the intense vibrations making you shudder.

You started to move by yourself, quickly and desperately, your juices glazing the skin and soaking up your panties that was making it harder for you both. But it felt too good to stop and remove it, the heat in your core was growing and you closed your eyes to focus on the man that was letting out hot breaths between the valley of your breasts. His hand started playing with your nipple, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb as the other gripped your waist and rocked you faster.

Your movement was getting sloppy, legs trembling and jerking whenever pressure was applied to your clit. You were whining the name of your lover, your voice almost pornographic. "Cum my love - fuck yes, cum all over me. Make a mess of me." Fred's hand left your nipple and guided your hips faster, the other pulling down on your thighs as you threw your head back. Fred started circling your clit to speed up your fast approaching release, but it wasn't even needed.

With a final, high pitched squeal, your vision went black, stars dancing around your lids. Your body shuddered violently, and you came hard all over his thigh. "You look so beautiful I-" Fred barely managed to let out before you gripped down his boxers and let his erection swing out. You wrapped your hand around the head and watched in amusement as pre-cum leaked out when you squeezed.

"What? Gonna milk me dry baby?" Fred chuckled darkly, his free hand running through his tousled hair while the other gripped and kneaded the side of your waist.

"I was hoping to do more than that, but for now..." you licked a long stripe up the base of his neck to the back of his ear, and bit. All the while, your hand started working around his painfully hard cock.  Fred was almost heaving now, unlike you who just recently came down from your mind blowing orgasm.

"I-...please, I wan't-" Fred gulped, and in the very rare moments he didn't know what to say. You started pumping his cock, the moment you squeezed him tighter he was coming.

"Fuck fuck fuck - ____!" Fred released all over your hand, his dick twitching beneath your fingers as he leaned his body on yours and let out strangled moans against your neck. You licked your fingers clean, then gently lifted Fred's chin. His eyes were slanted in a deep post-orgasmic daze, and you started to give him slow, wet kisses. "Look how good you taste." you whispered, swirling your tongue around his as he groaned into your mouth.

You were obsessed with how mesmerizing Fred looked. When he came, when he cried out whatever filthy thing came to mind, that blissful glow he had after orgasming. You wanted to repeat those moments over and over again, come with him yourself and touch yourself to his noises. And his taste, you could never get enough of it.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

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Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Massage Therapist Erik

warnings: Anal, AU Erik, Nasty talk. 

I am here to worship your mind and your body.

To me in this moment no one exists but you.

I am here to appreciate every stretch mark,

Love handle,

Blemish, 

And scar. 

You are more than your pain. 

You are the embodiment of life and love.

Let me help you find you again.

As a massage therapist you must be careful to make your clients feel as comfortable as possible from the moment they step into the office. A clinical style office with bare white walls and empty shelves will make a person seeking relief feel more like they walked into a doctor’s office than into the hands of a competent, caring therapist. Paint the walls a warm color. Start with pale neutrals or warm, dark colors such as shades of brown or a rustic red or orange. Set the ambience with candles of different scents on shelves. Candle light always sets the mood and sparks relaxation. Invest in massage tables with thick foam cushioning and thermal capabilities. A whirlpool jacuzzi tub is a beautiful, visually pleasing, and fulfilled look that will have your clients envisioning they are in the comfort of their home. Soothing massage oils and creams will leave your clients skin extra soft and incredibly smooth while giving them a rich healthy glow at the same time. Your clients can also add the oils to their jacuzzi bath for a long and relaxing soak that will leave them practically glowing.

Erik Stevens, licensed Massage Therapist and Instructor for six years just opened his very own center titled Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa with a full staff of young black Massage Therapists and Estheticians fresh out of the school he’s an instructor for. Erik offered them full-time and part-time positions and pay starting at $25 HR with the chance to earn more. The center closes at 10 PM but depending on the clientele, the center can stay open as long as it needs to. The uniforms for the ladies are black tunic wrap tops with black pants and the guys wear black polo shirts with black pants. On the back of the uniform shirts in gold is Erik’s business logo. It's the Hand of Midas with the silhouette of a woman’s curves superior to it. Even though Erik has his own spa, he takes personal house calls from some of his favorite lady clients. Erik will have a consultation with his clients to discuss and collaborate on how the mood should be set for the therapy session. Some prefer total silence because it heightens their senses, others like it if he talks with a soft spoken voice, sometimes they like it when he plays R&B music, and almost always they want the lights out with candles lit to set the mood. 

As much as he loved being a Massage Therapist, the physical demands can cause you to burn out. Self-care is indubitably important and being as physically fit as possible. The most important piece of equipment a massage therapist has is their own body. Erik stresses the importance of proper nutrition and diet, getting good enough sleep, and taking time out. It’s all about rejuvenation. Poor body mechanics can cause injuries to your hands, arms, shoulders, and back. Generating pressure from the core of the body and relieving neck strain by not looking at his strokes----keeping the head and neck in a neutral, extended position, and resting his chin against his neck to relieve the extensors is how Erik prevents work-related injury. Erik prefers to close his eyes when working because it reminds him that he does not need to watch the work being done so often---it allows him to better focus on what he is feeling with his hands. Erik’s strong, smooth hands have been compared to that of an angel or silk dragging across your skin. His smooth baritone allows you to let go and heal. Imagine how intense it is to have Erik as your Massage Therapist and not be turned on?

When I touch my client’s body, I touch their whole being---their intellect, their spirit, their emotions…

It’s a Thursday evening at Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa and so far throughout the scorching hot day, at least twenty clients have been tended to. Kobi, the new hire receptionist, grabs the keys to the spa entrance, locking the commercial glass double doors. She twirls the key ring around her left pointer finger while walking back to the front desk. Kobi removes her black blazer, stretching out her arms to relieve tension in her back before pulling the bottom of her white blouse down since it had ridden up from her stretching. Kobi leans her head side to side, cracking her cervical vertebrae and then she rolls her shoulders before grumbling in pain. Her cleavage heaved when she released a deep breath before grabbing her black, mini Tory Burch bag from beneath the desk. Kobi then grabs her phone and charger, placing it within her bag. Shuffling from behind the desk, Kobi shuts off the front lobby lights, turning the corner towards the back of the spa. 

Kobi punches out with her personal PIN number on a wall-mounted time clock. Finally, Kobi lets her heat-damaged, curly nut-brown hair down, using her fingers to separate the half wavy, half curly strands. The faintly lit hallway made Kobi’s skin more sepia as she walked towards the back entrance of the spa. Kobi notices one of the massage room doors is still open, sighing with a roll of her eyes before approaching the door to close it. Upon arriving at the door, Kobi fought back a rising panic when she noticed the room was still occupied. When the person turned around, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. 

“Erik, I thought you had left,” Kobi says with a faint smile and a hand to her chest.

“Spilled some of this massage oil, I forgot to recap it,” Erik chuckles at her terror stricken face while using a black cotton rag to absorb the oil spill from one of the shelves used to store items. Once he was finished, Erik tossed the rag in a linen basket before blowing out the candles. 

“Will you be in tomorrow?” Kobi asked as she watched Erik cover each candle. Kobi’s eyes cascaded down Erik’s back like she was following a stream of water. Even through his black polo, Erik’s sculpted body is clearly seen and wickedly tempting to caress.

“Hey, Kobi, can you push that button to turn off the music?” Erik asks. Kobi pushes a black button beneath the automatic lightswitch to the room, pausing the instrumental to Brian McKnight’s Anytime. While he wiped down the massage table, Kobi examined the way his muscles flexed and bunched beneath the russet skin of his bicep. Eyes traveling up the length of his bulky arm, Kobi allowed her coffee-brown eyes to outline the shape of his thick lips, and chiseled jawline. His tapered locs were covering his onyx eyes before he straightened his back, extending his neck to remove them from his line of vision. Erik could feel Kobi staring and when his onyx eyes connected with hers, Kobi immediately looked away before bringing her hand up to massage a kink from her neck.

“Still in pain I see. So, that must mean you didn’t take my advice?” Erik raises an accusatory brow at Kobi, “You know how important it is to take care of your posture, Kobi...c’mere,” Erik motioned with a curl of his finger for Kobi to come to him, “Sit right here, it should be dry now.” 

Kobi takes a seat on the edge of the massage table, resting her bag, black blazer, and car keys next to her right thigh. Kobi clears her throat nervously before straightening her back, a whimper slipping past her oval-shaped lips. Erik shakes his head before standing behind Kobe, bringing his skillful and veined hands up to her slender shoulders, leaving a little space between them to make it more comfortable. Erik formed a loose ‘C’ shape with his hands while keeping his thumbs straight. Erik feels for the smooth contour of the muscles just above her collar bones with his fingertips. 

“I didn’t even realize how long your hair is, Kobi,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone.

“Oh,” Kobe shakes her head so the strands can fall forward, “Yeah, I do wear it up a lot.”

“Well, maybe you should wear it down more often,” Erik begins, drawing Kobi’s muscles up with gentle, consistent pressure. He constantly presses the tips of his fingers and thumbs into her trapezius muscles from both sides, starting at the inside of her shoulders closer to her neck. Everytime Erik would roll her muscles up towards her collarbones without releasing his grip, Kobe would groan. The muscles in his arms worked to squeeze and lift and as quickly as he started, Kobi became more comfortable and relaxed. 

“This damaged hair? Please,” Kobe lets out a panting breath before closing her eyes, “I need to chop it all off and start over again.”

“Shit, I think it’s pretty,” Erik raises and lowers his forearms with slow, smooth motions while focusing on the side of Kobi’s pretty brown face, “The two different curl patterns...I like this wild look on you.”

“Stop with the lies, Erik,” Kobi rolled her eyes before hissing, “Damn...that felt good.”

“Yeah?” Erik went slower to make it feel even better, “Wait until I get to your neck, you’ll be moaning then.”

Kobi’s eyes shot open and her eyelids rapidly blinked, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m wearing pants instead of a skirt---shit, that was inappropriate,” Kobi slaps her forehead. Erik could do that to you---make you say the first thing on your mind no matter how vulgar and X-rated it is.

“It was honest,” Erik clarifies with a deep voice so close to Kobi’s ear that it made the tiny hairs on her earlobe raise, “It happens all the time believe it or not.”

“...What happens all the time?” Kobi says with rapid attention.

“My lady clients getting wet,” from her shoulders, Erik starts to massage Kobi’s neck with light, long strokes, finding her tension spots and applying focused pressure, “A lot of my clients get nervous and scared because they think they’ll get wet or aroused...who cares...if you’re stopping yourself from getting turned on you have too much control over your body...I always tell them to let go, it’s okay, we replace the sheets between every client,” Kobi and Erik share a laugh, “But honestly it’s just about enjoying yourself and letting your mind run free during the experience...I got you,” Erik kneaded his thumbs into Kobi’s tense muscles in a circular motion before gliding his fingers into her hairline.

“Can I be your new client?” Kobi says with a honeyed voice. Erik bites his lip before bringing his fingers around to massage Kobi’s throat.

“Why? So I can make you wet?” 

Kobi wanted to say, “But you already make me wet, daddy.” Instead, she says, “So you can help relieve this pain, Mr. Stevens…” Kobi blushes.

“You know I got you, Kobi...I do house calls too.”

Kobi nibbled on her bottom lip. She realizes that her panties are soaked. If only she could let go and unfasten her pants, kick them off, and pull the crotch of her panties to the side. If his fingers feel this good on her skin his tongue would feel even better licking her clit. Her imprudent thoughts in this precise moment are barbaric and Kobi wanted nothing more than for Erik’s heavenly hands to slip inside of her blouse to twirl her nipples. Kobi’s thigh jerked and her fingers gripped the edge of the massage table so harsh that it rubbed painfully against the palm of her hand. 

“Better?” Erik’s voice knocked Kobi out of her fantasy. She flexed her back and rubbed her neck before turning to Erik with her appreciative eyes sparkling, “Thank you so much, Erik. I don’t know how else to thank you.”

“Come in with your hair down tomorrow...like this,” Erik uses his thick fingers to part Kobi’s hair and stroke it to the left side of her face for a more untamed look, “You look freshly fucked.”

Alarmed by his words, Kobi’s coffee-brown eyes blinked at Erik slowly. No man has ever talked to her so boldly like that. Kobi licks her lips then bites her bottom one. Kobi was definitely playing with fire since Erik is her boss and she does have a boyfriend waiting for her at home. It would surely be inappropriate if Kobi were to lay back on the massage table, take off her black pants and drenched panties, and spread her thighs so wide so  her wet little pussy can open up for Erik to see. She could almost feel the warmth of Erik’s breath drawing closer and closer as his head lowered between her trembling thighs. Kobi wondered if he stroked pussy with his tongue first or if he wrapped his thick lips around the inner folds to suck. Either way, Kobi’s clit jumped, her walls quivered, and her nipples stiffened to pebbles. 

“Is your boyfriend picking you up? Erik gives Kobi a teasing smile with a tilt of his head. His onyx eyes damn near tunneled through hers the more he stared. 

“No..I drove the car today, “ Kobi inhaled sharply, “It’s getting late, I should probably head out.”

“Yeah, he’s probably worried,” Erik creates space between them both and it felt much colder, “Go ahead...get some rest baby girl, you know it’s gonna be yet another busy ass day tomorrow.”

“You’re right, let me get my ass home,” Kobi laughs nervously before standing from the table. She adjusts her pants, “Thanks again, Erik. For real...I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t trip, you know I got you whenever you need me.”

Silence hung between them both and from the way Erik was watching her Kobi was worried about what she would do...what she shouldn’t do. Gathering her things, Kobi gives Erik a final polite smile before turning to leave, sauntering out of the massage room as quickly as she can leaving Erik and his fattened dick behind.

______________

XMilanaRoseX: It’s demon time, how should I fuck this phat pussy tonight?

Milana Russell--- Nevada born and raised before she moved to California. Milana graduated from the University of Southern California with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and is now pursuing a master’s in criminology. Milana has a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, full lips, shoulder length locs with honey blonde tips, 5’10 and full-figured. Her golden eyes are captivating and her mellifluous voice makes you bend at her will. Milana has her webcam set up in her newly furnished bedroom for some late night play time. There are an assortment of toys on her bed and she’s already oiled down to make her curves stand out more for her horny viewers. Milana is wearing pastel multicolored fluffy cat ears with a holographic heart choker and  dramatic grunge makeup with pink glitter and glitter gloss on her lips. Milana kneeled on her heart-shaped bed in white velvet while cupping her large breasts and pointing them towards the camera. Milana jiggles both D cup breasts before releasing them and making them sway in the camera.

“I know Tuesday was titty day but you can never have enough titties,” Milana massaged her oily breasts sensually, “I bet you would love to have a pair like this...these pretty ass titties...you wanna dick my pussy down while sucking on these big ass cocoa titties? Huh? Suck on these chocolate hershey kiss nipples? Hm? I bet your girlfriend don’t know how much you wanna lick and suck on my nipples...not to mention this sweet juicy black pussy,” Milana sucks on her fingers before dragging them down to rub her clit. Her attentive eyes focused on the screen of her Macbook, reading the comments and giggling at some of the responses. 

SoulSnatcherrr: Damn babi they are so beautiful.

TyanaBiLove: Can I have you please? 

Nuttinyou_: I’ll hold them up for you mama don’t worry. Then I’ll slobber all over them bitches.

TribbQueen94: You wanna meet up? I just wanna rub my pussy against yours all fucking night baby. Then I wanna eat your pussy over and over until you cum on my face. 😛

LaflameDaddy: Made it home just in time to see my favorite girl in action...as always those titties are looking scrumptious...I’m tryna see that chocolate pussy...can’t forget that tight ass either...turn around and show big daddy where his dick belong at girl...stop playing with me.

“Oh yeah, Laflame?” Milana says to one of her fans, “you wanna suck my pussy and fuck my ass? You always wanna fuck my ass, daddy,��� Milana turns around, showing her orbit of an ass off that filled up the entire camera. Milana takes one of her hands to spread her cheeks to reveal the amethyst jeweled butt plug snugly fitting into her asshole.

LaflameDaddy: I’ll stretch that tight ass until your eyes roll back little girl...I see you got them toys out…Always ready to fuck that tight pussy like a good girl...I need your pussy in my mouth...wish I could show you this big dick right now standing straight up. 

Milana read the comment from LaflameDaddy while biting on her bottom lip, “That’s exactly what I plan to do, daddy…” Milana and whoever LaflameDaddy is have been flirting and sexting back and forth for about three months now. His avatar is a picture of his muscular torso oiled down, his thick brown pipe in his hand, and the devil emoji enlarged over his face. Out of all the nasty, freaky comments Milana receives, LaflameDaddy stood out the most. Milana was sure her other fans envied his gifted tongue that impressed Milana. She really wanted to know how he looked. Milana didn’t do meet-ups with any of her fans for many reasons but LaflameDaddy was worth the risk. 

“So, I don’t know which one of you sent me a new toy to play with but I’m excited to use it tonight,” Milana reaches behind her with a big smile on her face, grabbing the little pink love egg to show it off proudly, “isn’t it adorable?!! I heard about these things and I’ve always wanted to try it out,” Milana plays with the little antenna with her finger, “this shit is powerful. I turned it on to test it and the vibration is so damn strong...and it’s controlled with Bluetooth technology so I already know whoever got this for me has something planned,” Milana positions herself towards the edge of her heart-shaped bed with her legs elevated and spread wide open. Milana grabs her bottle of oil, tilting it over so that the heated oil can glaze her phat pussy lips. 

LaflameDaddy: your soul is about to be knocked out. 

AlluringAlyssa: I have one! We should FaceTime and cum together!

blackhornyyyvirgin: I can’t wait to see you squirt 😊

Shaq_88: ummmmm 😋

Milana rubs her outer lips, leaning back on her elbow while rolling her hips seductively in the camera. The tips started racking in and LaflameDaddy was tipping in a lump sum amount. In a short amount of time being a cam girl, Milana’s tip goals were hit faster and faster. They tip her because they WANT to see her shows. Milana always does things right, and her viewers anticipate it all day. Her computer chimed each time Milana would show off her yummy pussy. 

LaflameDaddy: $30

LaflameDaddy: $40

LaflameDaddy:$50 

LaflameDaddy: Stop teasing and put that vibrator in…and that butt plug is adorable but I know that asshole is begging for some dick...ummm I see that pussy leaking mama...I wanna lick up every drop of your pussy juice and bury my tongue in your ass 👅

“You’re a nasty nigga, Laflame,” Milana laughs lightly, “You live in Oakland?”

I-love-eating-pussylipss: I’m in Oakland. What's good baby?! 

Nastyasfuckkk: $25 👀

PussiiFairy: Laflame can you tip me too? 🥺 Check out my OnlyFans big dick daddy…

LaflameDaddy: 😈 didn’t I tell you to put that vibrator in daddy’s pussy? Stop playing with me. 

“Okay, daddy, shit,” Milana laughs again before bringing the pink bullet vibrator to her snug entrance, rubbing it up and down her labia before pushing it inside. The pink antenna dangled from her pussy. Milana brings her knees to her chest and with her phone in hand, Milana starts playing some music. The viewers were even more provoked by Milana’s little show when Twista ft. Trey Songz- Girl Tonite started playing. Milana hisses, here golden eyes love-struck as she focused on the camera. Full lips wide with surprise, Milana started panting. There is no way she could hold her moan. A single vein popped out of Milana’s neck and her gluteal muscles clenched. The different vibration patterns were jumbled on purpose so she wouldn’t expect it. 

“FUCK!!!!!” Milana’s fists clenched and her hips left the bed, “Umph, mmmmmmm, uhhhhh, Unh!!!!!” Milana closed her thighs, “Oh my God—“ Milana was creating a puddle of liquid beneath her cheeks, “Goddamn, who is controlling this?!!!”

The vibrations stopped. Milana sat up in her bed, wiping the sweat from her chest. She brings her left hand down between her legs, tugging on the antenna and pulling it out. There, creating a honey trail is her sticky arousal. Her expressive eyes alone showed how shocked she was. That tiny, almighty toy made her squirt and cream in less than a minute. Milana’s golden eyes focused on her camera, wondering just who was the culprit that sent her this heavenly toy. It came with a hand-written card. Milana still remembers those compelling words as if it was recited to her. 

Surrender yourself so I can cater to you.

Submit to my flow.

Aren’t you tired of being in control?

Don’t you deserve a moment to see what it feels like to be catered to.

To have all the attention on you. 

Don’t make me wait...come get on this table. 

Milana was confused by the last bit of the note until she noticed a free pass for an all-in-one spa experience. Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa. Milana heard so much about it. Her best friend, Kobi is a receptionist there. She always talked about how amazing the black-owned business is. Milana had been meaning to get around to it but the pricing was extreme and she already has so many other things to take care of. Car payment, rent, student loans, utilities, cat food, and not to mention anything she needed for herself. Seeing that free pass reminded Milana of how much she needed to relieve stress, reduce muscle tension, and increase her joint mobility and flexibility. A playful smile spread across Miana’s lips as she typed a message on her live chat. 

XMilanaRoseX: Thanks daddy Laflame 🥰 are you gonna come clean me up with your tongue when I’m done cumming on this amazing gift?

LaflameDaddy: girl I would eat all of that. Why don’t you put that toy in your mouth and tell daddy how good you taste so I can bust a nut. You’re welcome cutie. 

Milana sucked on her toy, “It tastes so sweet.” 

DigHerOut_: I wanna eat the hell out of her!!!!

EroticSoulBeauty: fuck that’s so damn juicy 🤤

LaflameDaddy: Yummy...phat creamy pussy...ima indulge in that deliciousness all fucking day when I get you...make your Lil ass cum all over my thick dick. 

Milana lifts one leg up before impatiently bringing the vibrator back to her pussy like it never left. As soon as her vaginal walls clenched the toy the deep, rumbling vibrations damn near galloped through her body. Milana bites on her knee to focus but there was no way in hell she was going to fight off her next nut. Laflame was not playing with her. Milana locked eyes with the camera as if he was staring right back at her. She didn’t need to rub her clit because the intense vibrations had her entire pussy trembling and begging for a release. 

LaflameDaddy: That's a good girl...I wanna suck that phat cum filled pussy baby...let me lick all that for you girl...shit…

LaflameDaddy: DAMN!! 

Milana was leaking all over the place. When she tried to take the vibrator out Laflame turned it up higher causing her fingers to tremor. Her body fell backward against her bed and her hips started rocking back and forth. The vibrations would start off faintly and increase pulsate to a supreme level that has Milana’s abdominal muscles tied up in knots and her heart skipping a beat. 

“Shit daddy you got my pussy cumming so hard…” Milana grabs her nine inch, girthy crystal dildo, sucking on it sloppily while twirling it in her mouth. The vibrations continuously fluctuates and at this point Milana didn’t even anticipate her orgasm——it just happened within the blink of an eye. Dildo slipping from her mouth, Milana yanks the vibrator from her pussy and replaces it with the crystal dildo. Her pussy was jammed-full with the circumference of the dildo. Milana rests the vibrator against her clit at the same time she fucks herself. From the tip and down to the base Milana saturated that dildo, covering its transparency with her cream. 

LaflameDaddy: got me throbbing hard Milana. Can I have some of that pussy? That thick wet pussy needs some dick mmmm 😋 

LaflameDaddy: ima hit that pussy hard...oh you really creaming now...that’s a pussy I’m not pulling out of. 

“This big ass dick...I know how much you like to watch me fuck myself...you wanna stretch me out just like this dick don’t you? both of my holes?” Milana knows exactly what to say to drive Laflame crazy. He tips her money again. 

LaflameDaddy: It would be my please to stretch that asshole open for you...get it used to being filled up to the brim 😩 ima have your ass addicted fucking with me. 

Milana started seeing black spots. Her loud, ear piercing moans were on replay. Milana’s clit was stiff and hypersensitive from the vibrator. It dropped from her shaky fingers and for the third time that evening Milana climaxed. The grip from her pussy around the dildo caused her to squirt yet again. It was the wide tip stroking her G spot that created the water works. Milana blinked tears from her eyes. Words couldn’t describe how hard she just orgasmed. Usually, Milana can last at least an hour in a session, however, her body was so weakened that she couldn’t even sit up in her bed. Every time she tried to touch her clit Milana would yank her hand away because of the heightened sensitivity. Her walls would lock up like a boa constrictor would his prey. 

LaflameDaddy : Milana, you still tryna meet up? I need to take care of that body, baby...I just need one night to change your life, girl...you know you want daddy to make you cum so what’s good?”

XMilanaRoseX: tonight? 🥺

Brownskinmami: Can I join y’all? 😢

DarkskinZaddy: ayo Laflame we can share her bruh! 

LaflameDaddy: Yeah tonight, I’m not playing no games. 

Did this even need a thought process? Laflame sent Milana a $180 dollar tip tonight and that’s not even the highest he’s tipped her. He sent her a gift, spending more money on her when he could simply be a freeloader and watch her cum without emptying his pockets. Laflame made her pussy wetter than any big dick man that had the opportunity to sample her cookies. At this point, she didn’t even care if he wasn’t the best looking guy, his body and his fat dick was enough to convince her that he could do whatever he wanted to her. 

XMilanaRoseX: tonight it is then. My place 😊

LaflameDaddy: Bet. I’ll bring my stuff to set up 😏 ima send you a DM. 

“Hello?” 

Milana spoke into her cell, voice barely audible. Laflame kept his word and sent Milana a DM for her address and cell number. This was probably going to be the only time Milana ever met up with one of her webcam fans. She hoped that he was about that action. 

“Milana,” His smooth baritone voice rocked her like an unsteady boat.

“You said your name is Erik,” Milana nibbled on the rim of her wine glass.

“Yeah, that’s me...I’m on my way to you but I gotta ask you something first if that’s okay.” 

“Sure,” Milana was a little wine drunk, “Ask away.”

“Aight, so, I’m a professional Massage Therapist. I know I sent you a free pass to my spa but I really want to give you the experience at home.” 

A male masseuse. This man was the total package. He’s a freak, he’s an entrepreneur, and he’s got gifted hands. Milana felt spoiled and she wasn’t about to turn down a goddamn massage especially when she needs one tremendously. 

“After all that squirting you were doing you need me to take care of you.” 

“So...are you coming to fuck me or massage me?” Milana cracks a smile.

“I’m coming to fuck you and massage you…”

“Mmm...so what’s your question?” 

“I like to give my clients the full experience, you know? Make them feel appreciated, give them a taste of passion...what do you like? Music playing? Me whispering in your ear? Candles lit to set the mood? What?”

“I’d like all of that actually,” Milana twirled her glass of wine with a blush on her face, “I need that so bad tonight.” 

“Well I got what you need, I’m here to relax you. Are you allergic to strawberries? Coconut?”

“I don’t have any allergies.” 

“Good, cuz I got something special in mind for you, Miss Milana.” 

“A man who’s not only gonna dick me down and slut me out but also worships my body...I want and need this, Erik,” Milana says with a soft, smooth, and pleasant sound of her voice in Erik’s ear. 

“I'm one of those men that likes to take care of a woman... not only dress her in sexy clothes... take her out when the opportunity arises... but pamper her stressed out body with no expectations... treat her to a sensual massage not only to relieve the worries of the world but also to help her heal from the relentless pounding of my always horny and hard dick. Daddy has to take care of his play things.”

“Damn...you have so much passion for what you do.” 

“...Nothing I love more than giving a woman a great massage followed by a deep, strong dick down.” 

“Ohhh yes,” Erik was stimulating Milana’s mind with his sultry tongue, “When I say I need a massage....this is exactly what I mean...what I gotta do to get this treatment on the regular?” 

“Open your door first.” 

Three knocks at her apartment door has Milana jumping up from her spot on the couch, fixing her black silk robe. She tucked a few of her locs behind her ear before sauntering towards her apartment door. With one golden eye, Milana glimpsed through the wide angle lens of the peephole to find a man dressed in athletic attire and carrying a bag on his shoulder and a portable massage table under his left arm. Opening her door, Milana comes face to face with LaflameDaddy himself. He’s wearing a pair of black and gold Nike running shoes, light grey Champion sweats, and a black muscle tee. His tapered locs are pulled back into a ponytail with the sides faded. Erik’s eyebrows knitted together and his onyx eyes surveyed her like she was standing naked before him. 

_________________

Everything on Milana was heavy-set; her breasts, her hips, her pudgy belly, her thighs. Her skin reminded Erik of the rich amber color of honey. Those striking golden eyes and lashes that framed her eyes like black lace are spellbinding. Erik would have never guessed that Milana was a tall, thick woman. His affixed eyes slowly descended her body and when they came to rest on her feet he had to bite back his gravelly groan. Pretty pussy, pretty asshole, and pretty toes. Erik wanted all of them in his mouth. Milana’s French tip acrylic nail lifted Erik’s jaw off of the floor. He chuckles with a bite of his lip. Erik stared at the doe-eyed beauty attentively as he walked into her apartment. Erik notices a few totes piled near her apartment door, a new suede sofa set, a mahogany wood coffee table, abstract black woman wall art, and an open balcony with sheer autumn-colored curtains billowing from the wind of the eventide sky. 

On Milana’s upper left thigh is a large tattoo of a lion with a mandala flower design. She looked like she was fresh from the shower——smelled like it too. Erik sits his bag on her couch and leans his portable massage table against a nearby wall before moving Milana’s mahogany coffee table out of the way to create more room. Erik grabs his massage table and starts setting it up within the space he created. His sexual appetite for Milana became excessive when she took a seat on her couch with her robe loosely wrapped around her body to expose her big tits for him. When her tits spilled out Erik could only smile at her eagerness. 

“Do you offer naked massages?” Milana asks with her beautiful voice like music to his ears. 

“I already planned on doing that. Question is, can you handle it?” 

“I can handle whatever you give me, daddy...I handled that gift you sent me.” 

Erik checked to make sure the massage table was sturdy and secure before strolling over to Milana, taking a seat beside her on the couch. Erik pulls out his phone and unlocks it to show Milana his mobile STD testing results. Negative across the board. Milana did the exact same thing, grabbing her phone and showing Erik her results. Also negative. It was something so mature and sexy about the entire exchange and it made Erik crave her more. Without evening thinking about it Erik’s hand reached out to caress Milana’s exposed left thigh while his hungry eyes drifted to her heavy tits spilling out of her robe. 

“So...then I shouldn’t be worried about how you can handle the way I nurture and admire your body and slut that pussy and ass out on repeat?” 

“No need to worry baby,” Milana’s hands fondled Erik’s biceps, “ Exactly what I need right now, the sooner I get undressed, the sooner we can do it.” 

Erik couldn’t wait to satisfy this freak. Closing the space between them, Erik presses his thick lips against Milana’s. She tasted damn good. He couldn’t combat his tongue and now it was slithering between her full lips and into her wet mouth. He could taste the fruity, tart flavor of the red wine she was drinking. Since it was so silent, the sound of their wet lips smacking with each kiss and their soft moans were amplified. Erik’s lips left Milana’s sticky ones gently but his hand didn't stop stroking her scalp. He doesn’t even remember it being there. The scalp is full of nerve endings and even with the slightest brush of the hair can send tingles through your body. Milana’s eyes closed and her head fell forward slightly. Erik ran his fingernails slightly over her scalp, paying close attention to the space behind her right ear and just above her neck. Milana moaned in his ear when he tugged on her locs in between massaging her scalp. 

“Damn, baby, that shit is amazing,” Milana whispered. 

“This is lightwork, baby,” Erik spoke with a low tone, “Let me relax you...tell me about your day.” 

“It was dull until tonight,” Milana’s lips parted, “mmm, yes.” 

Erik’s hands left her hair and Milana’s breath halted when she could no longer feel his touch. She looked up at him through her lashes with pleading eyes for him to continue. 

“It’s time for me to give you a good, hard, powerful massage that'll really have your ass moaning and weak to these knuckles and fingers.” 

Erik rose from the couch and went to open his bag. He pulls out five different massage oils, a fluffy white towel, a thin white sheet, and three hand-poured massage candles. 

“Aight miss Milana, I want you to take off your robe and go lay on that table for me face down,” Erik dug into the left pocket of his sweatpants and his hand came up with a lighter. Milana unfastens her robe and as she walked to the table she allowed the robe to fall from her body. Erik couldn’t fight the urge to steal a peek when Milana climbed onto the table with her round derrière sitting up. Milana folded her arms and rested her chin there with her head propped up and eyes closed. 

“Which oil would you like for me to use? I have coconut pineapple...it reminds me of having a cool drink in my hand while relaxing on an exotic beach.” 

“That sounds perfect...what are the others?”

“I have Strawberry dreams...it’s pretty sweet. I also have vanilla sandalwood, tropical mango, and island passion berry.”

“That’s a hard one,” Milana giggles, “Uhm...which do you prefer?”

“Well, if it was me and I’m giving my girl a massage I would go for the vanilla sandalwood. That creamy, rich vanilla with that alluring scent of sandalwood...it’s like spending all day in the spa without leaving your home.”

“Then let’s do that,” Milana stroked her locs from her back to give Erik more access. 

“Good choice,” Erik sits the massage oil on Milana’s table followed by the three massage candles. Once that was set up, Erik set fire to the candles before turning off the lamp lights in her living room. The candle gives far less illumination than the meanest of electrical light bulbs, yet it is all Erik’s eyes can take. By the flickering yellow the room is dark, the shapes of the furniture discernible but the colours so muted that they are almost grey. The blend of jojoba and soybean oils with warm notes of amber, cedar leaf,  and lemongrass, was gentle and soothing. 

“Any music preferences?” Erik questioned, his eyes focused on the smooth skin of Milana’s back while he covered her ass with the thin sheet.

“Something sensual would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” Erik says with a smirk before finding his favorite R&B playlist. Discovering the perfect song, Erik let’s it play, before resting his phone on the table. There is a sort of poetry behind real R&B music. Usher’s Nice & Slow was one of Erik’s favorites. He was anticipating showing Milana his skills. Removing his muscle tee, Erik grabs the vanilla and sandalwood oil. The bottles were warmed up before he came. Erik applies a little to his hands before doing the same to Milana’s back. His large, veiny hands rubbed in the massage oil with gliding movements in long, even strokes. He could practically see her worries melt away when his hands started working. 

“Like that?” Erik inquired. 

“Hell yeah,” Milana’s eyes focused on Erik, “you have soft hands for a man.” 

“My guess is you ain’t used to that,” Erik tilted his head down at Milana, “where do you have the most tension?”

“My upper back and my lower back.” 

“Okay...take slow, deep breaths for me...it’ll help you relax.”

“Like this,” Milana demonstrates her breathing for Erik.

“Exactly,” Erik used the whole of his hand and started at the bottom of Milana’s back, moving upward while applying pressure, and then he lightly brings his hands down the outside of her back delicately. His fingertips stroked the sides of her breasts each time he brought his hands down. Milana’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip. This is definitely foreplay. 

“You’ll have me leaving a wet spot massaging me like that.” 

“And I’ll be right here to lick it up when I’m done,” Erik reminds her while maintaining contact without applying pressure as he brings his hands back down. He didn’t forget Milana’s shoulders and neck area. This went on for 3-5 minutes while he gradually increased from light to medium pressure to warm up her back muscles. 

“Mm,” Milana’s brows furrowed.

“Got a lot of tension in your back, girl,” Erik started with a petrissage technique using shorter, circular strokes with more pressure. He rolled and pressed his hands into Milana’s back to enhance deeper circulation. Erik has her moaning with every motion of his strong hands. Erik’s dick tented the front of his sweats. Looking down, he could see his thick rod twisted to the side. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, Erik ignored the pulse from his crotch and continued massaging Milana. 

“You are great with your hands, daddy...lawdddd,” Milana hissed.

“It’s nothing like making you feel good with my hands,” Erik whispered.

“Just your hands?” Milana raises a single brow satisfyingly. 

“I promise I'd fuck u just as good if not better...let ur pussy wet my dick up…”

“Talk nasty to me,” Milana gasps when Erik’s fingertips tickle the small of her back. The slightest touch there evoked Milana’s pleasure. Erik lowered his head and started licking and kissing that area. Milana’s head shot up and her hips arched from the table. Erik’s forceful hand pushed her back down. Milana looked over her shoulder at him, her golden eyes unblinking. Erik slowly lowered the thin sheet to the floor, revealing her plump backside. Grabbing the oil, Erik covered Milana’s ass while rubbing it in with his free hand. 

“I can’t wait to stroke this ass...can you take it?”

“Never did it before, I’ve been training with my plugs.” 

Erik spreads Milana’s cheeks and with his thumbs he starts rubbing between her cheeks. That phat pussy from the back caught Erik’s attention and now his thumbs were rubbing up and down her outer lips. Milana’s thighs spread open further for Erik to have more access. With her permission, Erik takes his thumb and pointer finger, spreading Milana’s pussy lips. Her pink glistened like the juiciest piece of fruit. Erik’s tongue is getting hard. He wanted to drop his fat dick all in that pussy. Squeezing his dick through his sweatpants wasn’t a good idea because any type of contact had him ready to bust a nut. 

Walking around the table, Erik stands in front of Milana, his hips leaning over her head. Erik started to perform muscle-lifting strokes to Milana’s back in a twisting motion, “When you finally let me fuck that ass ima have you falling in love with anal for ever. Have you wishing  you would have been given this ass up,” Erik pushed gently down toward Milana’s lower back, massaging the muscles on either side of her spine. 

“With a dick this huge I’m sure you will.” 

Erik lowered his head when he felt Milana tugging on his sweatpants. He didn’t stop her, why would he when that monster needed to be freed. Erik’s hands extended down to Milana’s ass and he started kneading the flesh. Milana brings Erik’s sweats down to rest on his upper thighs and she comes face to face with his dick since he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Grinning, Milana grabs Erik’s dick in her hand and starts jerking it. 

“Fuck, here,” Erik straightens his back, reaching for the massage oil. He squirts some oil on his dick and Milana’s hand. Recapping the oil and sitting it down,, Erik brings his hands to rest on Milana’s shoulders, kneading them gently while she rubbed the oil in on his dick. With both hands now, Milana jerked Erik’s dick like she was grinding pepper. Before her golden eyes like magic Erik’s dick thickened even more in her hand. The oil brought out the beautiful definition of Erik’s veiny shaft and wide tip. Milana’s eyes glossed over and she exhaled deeply when Erik’s thumbs smoothed out the tension from her shoulders. 

“Give me your throat baby... It’s not too much to ask for right?” 

“Definitely not,” the flexible tip of Milana’s tongue stroked the head of Erik’s oily dick while she jerked him with both of her hands in a twisting motion. Erik grew impatient and palmed the back of her head, applying pressure and forcing her to swallow him like he wanted. He didn’t care if there was oil on his dick, all he wanted to see was all ten inches of his dick vanish down her throat. Milana’s noisy sucking blended with the R&B music in the background. With her oily hand, Milana massaged Erik’s nut sack while eating his dick up with her drooling mouth. 

“I see you know how to handle this fat dick with your mouth,” Erik closed his eyes and extended his head, “take care of daddy’s dick baby and I’ll take real good care of you.” 

Milana purposely gags on Erik’s dick while innocently looking him in the eyes. When her lips slipped from around his dick she started jerking him with a smile on her face, “can you please explode on my face daddy?” 

“You’re my sexy dick pleaser?” Erik smoothed Milana’s dreads from her eyes.

“I’m your sexy dick pleaser, daddy...make me choke on your big black dick until I cry...I want you to cum on my face.”

“All over this pretty face? Hm?” 

“Yes, please,” Milana sucked on the tip of Erik’s dick with a tight suction that had Erik’s nut sack so tight it almost retracted into his body. 

“Deeper...open that mouth...stop playing,” Erik pushes forward into her mouth with his toned hips, “oh? You wanna keep playing with me, Milana? I’m gonna put it all in ya throat watch and see,” Erik gripped Milana’s head and started fucking the shit out of her throat like it was a pussy. Yes, he did come here to relieve some tension in her body but he always wanted to slut her out with his fat ass dick. Milana has been teasing him for a few months now. He’s already insatiable when it comes down to pussy. So greedy that he was willing to blow Kobi’s back out in that massage room. Boyfriend or not he was gonna stretch Kobi pussy the fuck out. Now, he finally has Milana’s freaky ass to himself. 

Erik puts it all the way down Milana’s throat and watches her get too messy with it and gag because Erik was training her throat. He held his dick there to remind her of how daddy’s dick is supposed to be sucked. Her tears cleansed her cheeks and just when her nose began to run Erik’s dick drew back from her throat. She stared at Erik’s dick with her eyes crossed like she was bewitched. 

“I love fucking a pretty face...stay focused baby and make daddy nut...fuck, Milana,” She was driving Erik crazy with the jerk and suck combo, “just like that baby...damn...nasty girl, suck that dick,” Erik licks his lips, “Open that pretty little mouth of yours for your daddy,” Erik takes hold of his dick and slaps it on Milana’s tongue, “Fuck I’m about to bust all over your face, hell yeah that’s a good girl, begging for more? So fucking hungry,” Erik painted Milana’s face with his cum and she tilted her head back far enough to catch some in her mouth as well. 

________________

A real-life fantasy is what Milana was experiencing.

She giggled at first, but once she got past the tickle response her laughter was replaced with moans. Milana is on her back now, the front of her body completely exposed for Erik to caress. With his soft, masculine hands Erik rubbed-down Milana’s breasts with the warm oil while his thumbs circled her nipples. At this point, Milana is leaking on the massage table. She didn’t think her nipples could actually get this hard. In between his rubbing, Erik would give her nipples a nice suck to change the pressure. Now, Erik is kissing her neck and moving his hands to her torso. With his hands on her hips, Erik lifted Milana’s back from the table in an arch position. 

“I wanna put my face in your ass and pussy so bad...fine ass.” With his fingertips, Erik stroked Milana’s torso with his onyx eyes ablaze and his dick ready to bust yet again. Milana gives Erik a sultry smile before grabbing his dick in her hand again to remind her of how big he is. Erik’s hands slid against each other in opposite directions across her stomach, repeating it over and over until Milana’s hips thrust from the table. 

“Patience, baby girl...I gotta work my way down,” Erik walks to the foot of the table to stand between her legs. Erik grabs one of her legs, bringing it up so that her foot could rest on his shoulder. Erik used gentle and light pressure near her bones and sensitive areas. As his circular motion increased, the intensity of the massage increased. Milana was up on her elbows from the bed to watch him knead all the kinks out of her legs. She didn’t know how much she needed this until now. 

“You got some pretty feet,” Erik gives Milana’s foot a soft kiss. Grabbing her by the ankle, Erik rests Milana’s toes painted coral pink against his lips. Up and down, Erik rubbed Milana’s toes against his lips. His eyes were enough to show Milana that he was surrendering to her but this time her toes are in his mouth. She never experienced a man sucking on her toes and wouldn’t have imagined how sexy it is to feel and watch at the same time. 

“Mmm, that feels so good, baby,” Milana gasps when Erik’s tongue licked the side of her foot, “You’re such a freak, Erik.” 

With a smirk on his face, Erik uses his teeth now to nibble on her ankle while his hands massage her foot. Using his thumbs, Erik applied pressure to the ball of Milana’s foot and she almost sat up on the table. 

“Yesssss, fuck,” Milana brings her other foot to Erik’s oily chest, “Do this one now...fuck, I like that,” Erik sucks on Milana’s toes, “Unh, fuck, that shit is so damn good baby.” 

With her foot, Milana makes Erik’s dick bounce before dragging her toes down to his balls. Erik’s hips jerked back and he playfully bites down on the side of Milana’s foot causing her to giggle. After massaging her other leg, Erik seized both of her legs, pushing her knees towards her chest. There, covered in oil and sitting phat and pretty between her thighs is Milana’s sweet pussy. Seeing it up close and personal almost made him weep. Rubbing down the back of her thighs, Erik really wanted to eat that hot meaty pussy right now. He would eat that pussy till his tongue fell off. Then there’s her tight asshole. He wanted nothing more than to beat it down from the inside. Same thing for her creamy pussy. Hitting both g spots with reckless abandon and endless precision. Play with that pussy and make her focus on him while he beats that ass into submission...and she better not look away...

“...Perfect ass for anal pleasure.  Do you agree?” 

“Mhm,” Milana moves her hips in a circular motion, “Don’t you wanna eat me up? Have a taste baby? It's good for you,” Milana uses both of her hands to spread her pussy lips. 

“What a beautiful view baby,” Erik’s head disappears between Milana’s thighs and the first thing she does is grab for his hair, yanking it from its ponytail, “I want that pussy cumming in my mouth too since you wanna pull on my hair like that.”

Erik tongued every drop of that delicious sight before his eyes. So much pussy juice. He was absolutely overwhelmed with how much she produced the more he licked. Now, Erik’s mouth is watering and his spit is mixed in with Milana’s wetness. Stunning, absolutely delicious it looks so tasty, how good would it be to taste the juice of this gorgeous pussy. That was Erik’s first thought when he first saw Milana’s pussy on webcam. Pussy is the prettiest thing, he would think while he fisted his fat dick into another explosive orgasm. He was sucking Milana’s pussy into submission. He was sucking not just on her clit but on her inner folds and outer lips as well. Got to get the whole pussy in his mouth to really make her cum. At this point, Milana was Erik’s favorite thing to eat with the way she creamed in his mouth. With the way his lips are slurping up and down her pussy, Milana lost whatever control she had and surrendered herself to him for the rest of the night. 

“Eat that pussy,” Milana’s eyes grew wide when Erik’s tongue started stroking her ass, “oh my fucking goodness.” 

Was Milana really ready? He talked about fucking her in the ass so many times before so she already knows that he will take it by force. He must have read her thoughts because now Erik is fingering Milana’s booty at the same time his mouth found its way back to her pussy. 

“Daddy?” Milana questioned while his finger twirled in her booty, “Are you gonna fuck my ass first or my pussy? Unhhhhhh, fuck,” Milana’s thighs locked around his head.

“You got that phat pussy running away from me?” Erik held Milana in place with one strong arm, “When that hole give up and you finally take it you’ll be hitting my phone for this big dick to fill your ass up anytime...fuck, it’s so damn tight...can’t wait to get in this ass,” Erik stopped talking and continued slurping on Milana’s pussy. Her cries were ignored the more he worked his thick lips over her pussy. She could feel herself getting ready to cum again and it was so strong that Milana’s lower half was lifting from the massage table. Her sweet moans of defeat came soon after she started cumming in Erik’s mouth. She had no other choice but to lay there and take it. His mouth didn’t leave her pussy, he sucked his way through her nut until he felt as if she had enough. 

“That sweet pussy cumming?” 

“YES!!!! Fuck yes it’s cumming for you.”

Erik’s lips were back on it. 

“Yes!!!! Yes, make me cum, make me cum, Unhhhhh fuck,” Milana was frozen but her stiff body didn’t stop Erik from licking up every single drop. When he lifted his face from between her legs, he was glazed from the oil and her juices. 

“I think it’s time for me to massage that pussy with this dick don’t you think? Get up and go to the couch now,” Erik didn’t wait for Milana to answer his question. His fat dick was in his hand and he jerked it with a desperation to finally dig deep in Milana’s guts. Milana sat down on the couch causing Erik to kiss his teeth and slap her right thigh. 

“Turn over,” It was a request that needed to be fulfilled with how deep his voice was. Milana was on her belly again, Erik’s hands landing on her ass with two rounds of rough slaps that stung her flesh, “Daddy’s got your back baby, lift this ass up.” 

Milana carefully positioned herself with her thighs nice and wide and her face resting against the suede cushion of her sofa. 

Mhmmmm,” Erik tapped his dick on Milana’s pussy before grabbing a handful of her ass, pushing himself inside. Even with the amount of lubrication Erik’s dick still expanded Milana’s pussy past limits she wasn’t used to. Sure, she’s taken long dicks before but long and fat? That’s a different story. 

“Is this dick up in your guts?” 

Milana rapidly nods her head the more Erik pushed. Milana had her doubts that Erik was going to fit but he proved her wrong. Erik’s entire shaft fit perfectly inside of Milana’s pussy like a puzzle piece. His hands stroked her oily skin from her twin globes all the way down her arched back and back up to her hips. Gliding in and out of her pussy, Erik can feel Milana reaching back to grab his wrists. 

“If you think I’m about to fuck you with half of this dick because you can’t take it you got me fucked up,” Erik slaps Milana’s hand away a few times before she decided to loop her arm around his, “Nah take this punishment from daddy.” 

“Fuck me just like that,” Milana moaned.

“Fuck you just like that? Oh, now you want this dick?”

“Yes. I need that big fucking dick.”

“This big dick right here?” Erik’s hips smacking against Milana’s ass was vivid in her ears, “All up in this puss with my dick…keep that fucking arch Milana I’m taking this pussy.” 

Erik started off with that rough sex, straight giving it to Milana. As much as she cried she was taking that long dick. It felt so good that the feeling of his dick applying pressure to her stomach was worth it. He was pounding Milana out like he had pinned up tension towards her. It was as if he wanted to leave her pussy shaking. He was punishing her for sure, Milana couldn’t even look back over her shoulder at him. He was making her take responsibility for her actions——teasing him on webcam. 

“I’m pounding this tight little pussy...pussy getting dealt with right?” 

“Unh,” She couldn’t only moan.

“Talk to me, oooh this pussy wet wet…beating this wet shit up baby…come on, open your fucking mouth...tell daddy how much you love this dick.” 

“I love this big dick,” Milana exhales when Erik slows down to stroke her at a moderate pace. Slowing down made Milana feel just how much dick she was taking. Erik would pull out all the way to the tip of his dick then push all the way in down to the base. Milana could feel the urge to squirt and she really didn’t want to do it on her new couch but it was too late. As soon as Erik’s wide tip hit the bottom of her pussy, Milana was squirting on her couch. 

“Got my dick extra messy with this pussy...I needed to fuck you so bad shit ain’t even funny,” Erik slaps her ass, “Make it rain baby, yessss,” Milana was squirting again, and Erik increased the speed of his hips, “pussy so fucking good girl.” 

“Umph!!! Unh!!!!!” Milana was whimpering into the couch, “Erik, please, I’m about to cum!!!!” 

“Fuckkkk!!!” Erik’s jaw clenched from Milana’s grip, “Nasty Bitch taking all this dick you better cum like a good little slut, Milana.” 

Milana did exactly as she was told and made even more of a mess beneath her. Erik starts slapping her ass cheeks around with his dick still buried inside of her. 

“You ready for me to get in that ass?” 

“Uh-huh,” Milana’s eyes rolled shut when Erik’s dick left her quivering pussy. He didn’t bother to tell her to clean off his dick with her tongue because he wanted to use as much lubrication as possible to fuck her in the ass.

“Let’s take this shit to your bed, it’ll be better,” Erik picks Milana up from the couch and carries her towards the direction that she pointed to. The infamous room of Milana Rose. That signature heart shaped bed. Erik lays Milana on the bed while he is on top of her. They both share an intense kissing session with a whole lot of tongue and spit. 

“Come on, girl, bring your legs up,” Erik whispered. 

Milana’s knees are against her chest for Erik to do whatever he wants. Standing from the bed, Erik positioned Milana on the edge so he could have the perfect angle. That asshole is...Erik couldn’t even form words. Dick still wet and Milana’s ass nice and oiled up, Erik bends his knees slightly before planting one hand on the bed while the other grabbed his dick, bringing it to her ass and then with a slow, easy stroke, Erik started pushing and Milana was so nervous that her asshole clenched up.

“You gotta relax if you want me to get in that ass, Milana. It’s okay baby...you’ll love it...I know you will...you’re a nasty slut…” Erik tried again, pushing enough to get the tip of his dick in, “mmmmm, you just might make me cum and I ain’t even have this ass the way I wanted to yet.”

“Daddy it hurts,” Milana pushed at Erik’s abs.

“Hold on I got a little bit more for you...it’s almost in there I promise,” despite her cries, Erik finally conquered the tightest hole he ever fucked. 

“Ima pull out a little bit,” Erik withdrew his hips, “Fuckkkkkkk,” Erik pushed back in, “I should be balls deep but you acting like you can’t take this dick.” 

“It’s too big in my ass,” Milana’s mouth grew wide with shock, “Oh my God it’s in my ass…”

“Milana, stop clenching up,” Erik spoke through clenched teeth, “If you relax I can open this ass up how I want…”

Erik pushes and pushes with his hips. So tight it felt like Milana was trying to squeeze his dick like a tube, “I’m already in there, baby, just take this dick,” Erik’s hands are resting on either side of Milana’s head. She was loosening up for him and her cries of pain turned into soft sighs. Her phat pussy sitting right above her ass needed to be filled too so Erik takes three fingers to finger fuck her. 

“Oooh, shit,” Milana eyes rolled back, her body shaking with only half of Erik’s dick in her, “That big dick looks so good in my ass…”

“Grab my dick and push it in this ass.”

Milana sat up on her left elbow with her other hand reaching between her thighs to grab Erik’s dick. When her hand wrapped around his shaft she couldn’t believe how much of him was left. Adjusting her hips Milana forced Erik’s dick in.

“Take your time to ease it in, I’ll wait,” Erik’s fingers twisted and twirled in Milana’s pussy, “There you go baby, there you go,” Erik moves her hands out of the way, “Hold your cheeks open…” moving his hips, Erik started digging Milana’s ass out. 

“I’m laying this pipe all in your ass-“

“Yesssssss,” Milana really thought she would be able to handle the way he was fucking her but her hands on his thighs pushing him proved to Erik that she wasn’t ready. He didn’t give a fuck, Milana knew what it was from the beginning. 

“Next time, I’m tying your fucking hands down, you can’t take it but you’re moaning while I’m stuffing this ass,” Erik’s fingers rapidly stroked Milana’s pussy, “That's it, spread your cheeks slut and look at this hard dick sliding in and out of your tight little asshole.”

Milana’s eyes connected with Erik’s dick, “Unh, fuck.” 

“You’re a good girl?” His dick started hitting her ass faster.

“I’m a good girl-yes, get it baby.”

“THAT'S what i'm talking about,” Erik could finally go at the pace that he wanted, “Train me daddy, fuck,” Milana’s ass started creaming Erik’s dick, “I’m a good girl I’ll take it in the ass.” 

“Damn, girl…” Erik chewed on his plump bottom lip. 

“Let me show you I’m a good girl,” Milana gripped her sheets and started moving her hips to meet Erik’s strokes. Just minutes ago she was crying about how it hurt and now she is accepting Erik’s fat dick in her ass. 

“Oh yeah? Put that work in for daddy,” Erik’s fingers alternated between rubbing Milana’s clit and fingering her pussy. 

“Yes, daddy,” Milana’s face frowned with ecstasy, “Unh, fuckkkk,” Milana started squirting. 

“Yeah, you’re a good girl, keep squirting, come on,” Erik pushes Milana’s thighs back and pounded her ass. Milana’s hips kept moving and Erik was growing frustrated. Slapping her ass, Erik’s fingers squeezed Milana’s legs harshly and his nails were digging into her skin. He really loved her ass. Milana scratched his abs and slapped his chest. He was getting balls deep in her ass, growling in her ear, biting her neck, and gripping her thighs. 

“If you keep it up daddy will fill this ass up with my fat nut,” Erik whispered in her ear. The squishing sound of his big dick pistoning into her ass as he rocked her body brought him to the brink of climax just as Milana reached hers. 

“This big ass dick got me squirting…UMMMMMMMPH! FUUUUUCK,” Milana pushed that squirt out her pussy and it stained Erik’s dick and thighs. The dick was buried in her ass and yet her pussy still reacted to it. Erik quieted Milana with his lips. He swallowed her cries and pushed himself in deeper to make his balls slap her ass. Unable to hold back any longer, Erik pushed himself all the way in and held it there. Dick pulsating, Erik’s thick cum filled Milana’s ass. Her warm hole drained him dry like she was sucking the life force out of him. Erik couldn’t speak, all he could do was sweat all over her and kiss her lips and face. Pussy a creamy mess, ass filled to the brim with Erik’s cum. Lifting his sticky body from hers, Erik kissed a trail down Milana’s body before his thick lips found her pussy. He used the suction of his lips to clean off her pussy. 

“You still want that free massage? I’m there all next week.” 

Eyes like stars, Milana gives Erik a tired smile with her hand stroking his goatee. It felt so good and so right in his arms and this was her first time with Erik; to accept the adoration that was being given to her. Milana was very certain that Erik has other women waiting in line for the opportunity to have him. What transpired between them has Milana anticipating future sex. If only.

“How does next Friday sound?” 

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark  @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @chaneajoyyy @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique  @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0  @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @cecereads209 @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee @nyleveeee @erlebnissebliss @melinaasap1 @woahthatshitfat @that-chick212 @scarypumkin23 @sambuckyslayallday @vikki240401 @kuaua98 @enigmadivine @gingerylimonte @counterfeit-recherche @unholyxcumbucket @xdezaraex @missgigglesmoultrie @imrootingforeveryoneblack @dashhoney25 @oversorry @abluesforlyssa @honeybeejaes @admirehermind @wassuduoo @kaykay0829 @woahitslucyylu

[oathofoaksart]

YOUNG JUSTICE OC: KILLJOY  bio under the cut!

BASICS Name: Miles Manson A.K.A: Killjoy; Jess Terring [legally], K.J, Smiles; Jester [formally] Age: 31 [S3 Era] Gender: Cisgender Male Orientation: One Loud Shrug Noise Skin: Light tan; neutral-to-warm undertones Hair: Medium Brown Eyes: Cognac, leaning on Orange Height: 5'8" Build: Compact, similar to that of a baseball player Distinctions: Fingers and palms are partially "perma-clowned". Has a multitude of scars that riddle his body. Most noteworthy being the one which cleaves his right eyebrow in half [Robin I], track marks inside of his elbows, upper arms, and thighs [fear toxin self-injections], a slash across his nose [the Joker], a large discoloration on his left shoulder [Killer Croc], and a long scar that circles around the base of his neck [Victor Zsasz] RELATIONS [note a few @ are friends i prob only know their dA handle to] Parents: Vinny [deceased] and Katherine [estranged] Terring Siblings: Eva Terring [estranged] Friends: Erin Knightly-Tetch @little-red-xoxo, Dick “Nightwing” Grayson, Penelope “Stage Fright” Caskett @poltergeistprincesa, Jervis “The Mad Hatter” Tetch, Molly “Blondie” Weiss @Triskata Partner/s: Scattered one night stands, notably henchwenches; M. "Last Encore" (ev.) @whispering-lava Misc.: The Joker, Harley Quinn, Gi “Geode” Flores, Janus Lyssa @SherlyWats, Madelyn “Angelica” Farro @The-Brain-Teaser, Jadis “Killcode” [Surname Redacted] @whispering-lava Affiliations: The Tetch Family; The Joker Gang [formally] PERSONALITY Personality Type: ESTP-A [Assertive Entrepreneur] Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric   Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Playful | Witty | Erratic | Careless | Brutal Miles’ “daytime” persona is a friendly, quick-to-joke man who takes all things in stride. He possesses a casual cheeriness and an easygoing attitude that aids him in making quick acquaintances and even a fair amount of friends, even if he’s notably private about his personal life. It’s usually written off as him having a generally quiet bachelor lifestyle. He’s best known from his job as a waiter at a tea and sweets shop named The Mad Tea House, where he lets his more impish traits shine through to his fellow employees. He’s been guilty of child-like pranks, shirking responsibilities onto others, and being a bit of a gadfly when he feels things have gotten too quiet in the tea house. As Killjoy, he’s violent, disturbingly reckless, fueled by spite, and follows no logic other than his own. He wastes no time looking for retaliation when he perceives a wrong done against him. K.J’s sense of humor is abundantly morbid, his words often tinged with irony and false jolly. He thoroughly enjoys getting under people’s skin and milking their uncomfortableness. In truth, there are very few things Miles takes seriously, but the one thing he sets above all else are his ties of loyalty. As rash as he is in regards to his own well-being, all bets are off once someone he comes to care for is in harm’s way. While he argues he finds this annoying about himself, it’s also his one source of proof showing he hasn’t completely lost his way. ABILITIES AND WEAKNESSES Metahuman Biology: Originally, Miles’ metagene was tied to his adrenal glands, allowing a boost in bio-stats such as improved strength and reflexes. Years of fear toxin dosing further strengthened this metagene. Unbeknownst to him, his metagene was continually evolving, correlating with his need for survival. His eventual death “rebooted” the metagene, jump starting his body, and fully allowing it to unfurl.

- Immortality: Miles has recently discovered his inability to die by various means. His body heals regentively and is immune to fatal poisons and toxins. - Adrenaline Surge/Blitz Mode: His adrenaline bursts allow him enhanced strength, speed, agility and reflexes. During these “Blitzes,” Miles turns into a one-man wrecking crew, plowing through obstacles and opponents through sheer determination. - Pain Tolerance: Has an abnormally high tolerance to pain, does not mean he can’t feel pain, it simply doesn’t hinder his ability to think or move. (Ex. He can burn his hand, and he feels the same amount of pain anyone else would in the same situation, he just won't react to it if he chooses not to) While Miles is officially immortal by way of being unnaturally resilient, he is still able to experience symptoms and side effects of diseases, poisons and toxins. His healing factor slows in colder temperatures, stopping completely when it drops to freezing points. Heavy damage to his head area hinder him considerably and Miles still feels the after effects after having healed (ie. slurred speech, blurry vision, dizziness). He is extremely susceptible to electric attacks, as it overrides his nervous system, prompting unconsciousness. Gear/Weapons: - Frowny Face Mask: Besides serving as a trademark symbol, Killjoy’s mask comes equipped with mapping and schematic information, allowing for quick and easy navigation. - Voice Changer: An electronic patch attached to his throat allows Killjoy to copy various voices, ranging across age and gender. - Signal Scrambler: Killjoy operates on a generally covert level, sometimes communication from one party to another isn’t in his best interest - Assorted Explosives: Killjoy’s go-to toys, these are generally self explanatory. They vary in size and demolition damage. For the sake of irony, Killjoy is fond of deadman switches.   - Weighted Gloves: Serve as built-in brass knuckles, K.J’s preferred melee weapon 3 in. Balisongs: Two of them to be precise, these typically only come out when simple bruises aren’t cutting it anymore. - Grappling Gun: Useful to get around the city landscape. The blue labeled gun. - 9mm Handgun:  Killjoy dislikes having to use this one, if it’s in his hand, he’s officially stopped fooling around. The red labeled gun. - Joyride: A custom-built Camero, Killjoy’s prized possession and getaway car HISTORY TW: SUICIDE MENTION Jess Terring, better known in the Gotham Underground as Jester, shot through headlines despite his years of generally low profile work as a simple Joker lackey. Charged with the deaths of dozens and injuries of several more by result of a fatal explosion, he was to spend a life sentence at Arkham Asylum, his protests of innocence falling on deaf ears. His attempts at an appeal were overruled, even with figures such as Batman and Nightwing looking into his case for him. Arkham Asylum was hell on Earth for Jess.  His shreds of hope fell apart as the months crawled on, his mental state deteriorating in the process.  He had never wanted to get involved with the Joker, all he’d been was a good-for-nothing conman who’d gotten too greedy. His last four years as Jester had been a never-ending nightmare. Things finally culminated during a free-for-all jailbreak at Arkham where Jess, along with other inmates, were cornered on the roof. Unable to stomach the idea of being thrown back in the cell he was wrongfully given and simply tired of the misery, he jumped. Jess Terring was proclaimed dead by suicide off Arkham Asylum… The last thing Jess expected to happen was to wake up in a morgue. Barely coherent and running on sheer instinct, Jess managed to escape, although not without killing the on-duty mortician. His first official kill and he hadn’t felt a thing. He wouldn’t reflect on it until after clearing Gotham City, and even then, he realized it wasn’t the mortician’s death that bothered him, but rather he didn’t feel anything about it to begin with. Between recognizing his new lack of humanity and hearing the joker-like laugh escaping him, Jess broke. He spent the following months wandering the states as a nameless face. The bizarre events surrounding Jess’ death was eventually swept away by the everflowing stream of news media and within the year, faded into obscurity. It was the best he could have hoped for, free from the Joker’s grasp and unknown, but his thoughts kept returning back to Gotham City. The more the thoughts plagued him, the angrier he got. The Joker had gotten off scot-free, having framed him for the initial massacre and ran him to the ground, eventually turning him into...whatever he was. While a part of him argued he’d be better off cutting his losses, he found himself unable to set it aside and he set course back to Gotham City. He didn’t have a plan so much as he did an outline, but he soon figured out he wasn’t required to be especially careful anymore. Being nigh-indestructible made for a good buffer. He’d finally found a blessing through his curse and through trial-and-error quickly fashioned himself as a makeshift mercenary. During this time he worked under a variety of names, involving himself in several under-the-radar jobs in order to fund what would eventually be his official M.O. He marked his entrance into Gotham with a string of bomb hits on territories tied to the Joker. As of now, not many are sure what to make of this new face, some cheering for his more direct approach on the Clown Prince, others exhausted with the prospect of another nut on the scene, and even a few seedier folk wanting to get him on their payroll. He’s unconcerned by it all, but he finds himself liking the ring to the name circling around him. Killjoy. NOTES - Killjoy mostly classifies as a serial bomber, targeting hideouts and planned heist hits. While he will set up evacuations so as to not injure more people than he has to, he’s fairly flippant about collateral damage - Despite his nonchalance towards violence, Killjoy does what he can to keep things non-lethal. His way of vengeance is a shot to the knee rather than a shot to the head. It’s not that he has a problem killing, it’s just as an immortal, death is the easy way out. - It’s believed Miles’ drastic change in personality comes from multiple factors instead of just one large catalyst (ie. years of fear toxin injection, joker gas inhalation, the trauma of death and resurrection) - The name Miles Manson doesn’t have any particular meaning, it had been a name he improvised and he grew fond of it. He severely hates being called Jess. - He suffers from night terrors, likely due to his usage of fear toxin in the past. He also experiences flashbacks akin to HPPD, albeit rarely - He can withstand an extreme amount of physical abuse and keep his wits about him, but once it passes a certain threshold, his mental state will eventually slip into a frenzy. Unable to consciously keep hold of himself, he will become animalistically brutal to anyone in his vicinity. - K.J mostly concerns himself with causing problems for the Joker, although he can be moved to ally with others for other reasons when he finds fit. Notably, he’s stuck a somewhat fickle truce with Nightwing over the rising number of metatrafficking rings in Gotham and Blüdhaven.

[drop-of-infinity]

Destiel fic time, this part canon compliant with season 12. As always, anything is quotation marks is directly from the show, and any chapter can be read alone.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

<><><><><><><>

Chapter 9: season 12

Keep Calm and Carry On

{“Whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend.” On some level Dean knew that Mary’s gun couldn’t actually hurt Cas, but he still panicked at the sight of it pointed at the angel’s chest. Besides, he didn’t want Mary and Cas’s first meeting to involve anyone getting shot. Cas stared at him in shock, then immediately wrapped his arms around him. Dean sunk into Cas. I’m home, he thought.

{“Dean!” Cas felt like his chest was going to explode. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. He latched onto the hunter, desperately needing the contact, and almost cried when he felt Dean’s arms lift up to hug him back. This is real. He’s alive. When they separated, Cas found himself breathless. Odd, as I don’t technically need to breathe, his slightly scrambled brain thought distantly. He looked up at Dean who was smiling softly, and his heart clenched. I love you.

{“Cas Cas Cas! Don’t hurt him. Not yet.” Cas allowed Dean to hold him back. He was an angel, Dean wouldn’t actually be able to stop him from doing anything, but Cas had enough faith in him to allow himself to be manhandled. He still glanced up at Dean ruefully, although the effect was slightly ruined by the way he’d already melted under his hands.

The Foundry

{“Morning sunshine.” Sam gave Dean a weird look, and he realized he’d said that out loud. It was getting steadily harder to keep his thoughts under lock and key around Cas. Dean was used to hiding feelings, but four years was a long time to know you were in love with someone and never say anything. He took a deep breath and pressed everything down again.

First Blood

{“They’ve only been gone-“

“Six weeks two days and ten hours.” Cas’s chest hurt. He hadn’t stopped beating himself up for letting them go, even though Dean had told him to. Dean. Where was he now? Was he ok? Cas knew that the longing rolling off himself must be palpable but he didn’t care at this point. He just wanted Dean back.

{“Cas.” “Dean?” “Hey buddy, long time.” “What-what happened, wh-where are you?” Cas almost collapsed on the spot. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest and his knees were weak with relief. How many times had they almost lost each other by now? It didn’t matter, because every time it was the same bone crushing relief, the same lung deflating he’s okay he’s okay he’s okay. Cas grabbed the edge of a chair to steady himself, and took a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

{“Hey buddy.” Cas melted into Dean’s arms, barely holding back a whimper. The hug was over far too soon for his aching skin, and he turned his body towards Dean as he walked away, like a flower trying to catch the sun.

{As they sat in the back of the car, Dean considered what he had done and what he was about to do. There was no way he was letting Billie reap Sam or their mom. He was about to die. It was why he was sitting in the back of the car with Cas. He just wanted to be with him for a minute. Cas’s hand rested on the seat between them. Dean didn’t grab it, because he was, at heart, a coward, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything so badly. He could practically see the longing radiating off himself in waves.

Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets

{“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Dean’s blood was boiling. This dickhead had no idea what Cas could do, what he had done. He might not command celestial armies anymore, but the dude was still amazing. It was more than just righteous anger though. Cas had rebelled against heaven for them. For Dean, or so he said. The way Ishim was talking to Cas, everything he said about how far Cas had fallen... it was all on Dean. He knew Cas would resent him for saying it though, so he didn’t.

{“I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness the same way I cured my own. By cutting it out.” Cas lay bleeding on the floor, unable to do anything, but he knew Ishim was wrong. Ishim’s love for Lily had turned him dark and twisted because she didn’t love him back. Cas knew Ishim could feel Cas’s longing, and saw a similar situation to himself and Lily with Cas and Dean, but he hadn’t accounted for one thing. Cas was at peace with it. He was prepared to always love Dean and never get an answer, and that wasn’t a weakness. It was what had made him strong enough to stop the apocalypse, to break free of Naomi’s control, to save the world from Amara. It was his greatest strength.

Stuck In The Middle (With You)

{“I think I’m dying.”

“No.” Dean could feel the panic rising into his throat, and he forced it down. Cas needed him right now, he didn’t have time for this. I can’t lose him he thought desperately. They had to do something. A distant part of his mind reminded him of something someone had told him once. “I watched the man I loved die. There’s no normal after that.” Dean steeled himself. He was NOT about to watch the man he loved die because they were going to fix Cas. They had to.

{“I love you. I love all of you.” Cas was dying, and he needed them to know. He needed Dean to know. He had imagined saying it a million times, and there had been dozens where it was on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he hadn’t pictured this. Dying in a barn, stabbed by a prince of hell. In some ways, Cas thought it was fitting. Dean met him in a barn after all. The beginning of the end. It didn’t matter now. He had said it. I love you. Yet somehow, Cas couldn’t even meet Dean’s eyes. He had a feeling the other man hadn’t gotten the real meaning behind his words. Not that it mattered. This was the end.

{Miraculously, Cas didn’t die. As Sam and Dean pulled him to his feet, all of his nerves were focused on the place where Dean’s hand held his. As the hunter let go, Cas chased his touch unconsciously, and felt Dean’s hand pivot back towards his and brush his skin again. His heart clenched painfully.

The Future

{“You know what, whatever. Welcome back.” Dean knew he wasn’t being fair, and he knew he was just making things worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He’d been worried sick about Cas and turns out... turns out the angel had just been ignoring him. It hurt like hell. He wanted... well that was the problem wasn’t it? He wanted. Dean rubbed his face and sighed. Just because you’re in love with the guy doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole, he told himself firmly. You wanted him back and now he’s back. Don’t be a dick.

{“It’s a gift. You keep those.” It was an olive branch, and Cas knew it. He was strangely relieved to be allowed to keep the mixtape. He remembered Dean giving it to him, and he remembered listening to it anytime he was driving alone. The music was... enjoyable. Cas found he liked the beats and the feel of it, but mostly he liked that Dean had given it to him. He was pleased to be allowed to keep it. Cas felt a surge of guilt about what he was about to do, but it had to be done. For the greater good, he told himself. He remembered repeating the same thing when he was working with Crowley all those years ago, and felt slightly sick. This time is different, he thought firmly. I’m not letting Dean do this. This... this is on me.

{“W-we?” “Yes dumbass, we.” Dean’s heart broke a little at the uncertainty in Cas’s voice. Sometimes the angel seemed seconds away from breaking, and Dean just wanted to grab him and hold him together. He pushed that feeling down, along with the way his chest ached with fondness at seeing Cas silhouetted in his doorway.

{“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dean shoved him up against the hotel wall as soon as he walked in, his arm warm against Cas’s chest. He hoped Dean couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating through the trenchcoat. Cas should really not be staring at Dean’s lips right now, but Cas has missed him so much and he wants so desperately. Sam called Dean over before Cas could do something he would regret. He ran a hand over his chest, aching and missing Dean’s angry warmth.

{“You’re hurt.” Cas reached out and touched Dean’s hand lightly, then slid up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s injured arm. It was not necessary to touch people to heal them, which Cas was hoping Dean hadn’t figured out yet. He drew his hand away slowly, and Dean looked down at his healed arm as though in awe. Cas couldn’t imagine why. He’d healed Dean countless times since they’d met.

All Along The Watchtower

{“Here Dean. Let me.” Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s head gently, and his leg healed at once. The cut on his cheek also stitched itself up. Dean felt his heart speed up a little as Cas drew his hand away, and Dean looked down, flustered. He sighed inwardly. He was a grown man, not a teenager with a crush. He didn’t get fucking butterflies. Except, apparently, he did.

{“No!” As Sam ran inside to find Jack and Kelly, Dean sank to his knees, overcome with grief. Their mom was in the other world with Lucifer, and Cas... Dean knelt next to the angel, too stunned to do anything. The outline of Cas’s wings stretched across the ground beside them, and Dean lowered his head. He felt hollow. He stood slowly, looking up at the sky. Cas had always loved the stars. Dean wanted to scream, to find God and rip him limb from limb, to do something other than sit here and drown in his sorrow, but he couldn’t. Dean looked down at Cas again. The angel’s eyes were closed. He was gone.

{Cas had felt the life drain out of him, felt his spirit fall into the earth and then sink beyond it. Now he felt nothing at all.

{Dean wished he could fly into the stars, find Chuck and make him bring Cas back. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything at all.

[darth-mendax]

Mendax and the Wolffe: One-shot Fic

A/N: Yes, I made this a while ago, yes it’s dirty, and yes I did it for my enjoyment. I am sorry for making this.

WARNING: It’s a dirty fic, man. You know what you gotta watch for. Stay safe bois. Also, the clones are being nasty lil boys, especially Wolffe being feral

Word Count: 5k-ish

Pairing: Darth Mendax x Commander Wolffe, OC x Wolffe

Ahsoka, Maul and his new, previously Jedi love Eli, weren’t resting on the random forest planet when evening was approaching. Eli had decided to try and save a few new clones from the wrath of this new Empire born from Sidious. Cody was their first target, and were going to supposedly deliver him to Kenobi. I felt it wasn’t wise to bring Maul on that adventure, but Eli argued against my opinion. Wherever Eli went, Maul followed. Now, I was stuck sitting near a growing campfire and surrounded by a couple clones and their downed ships acting more as shelter. I’d only learned their names when we first got here a few days ago.

The clones were relatively easy to tell apart, thank the Maker. The only blonde there was Rex, formerly Captain of the 501st. He had a blonde buzzcut, a clean shave but stubble was close to growing in, and his legs looked like they could kick her head clean off.

 Next was a brash clone of the 501st named Fives, easy to pick out from the tattoo of the number five on his temple. He had short hair like Rex, only he had black hair, as well and a goatee like beard. He’d been injured badly, but he was healing relatively fast.

 Jesse was next, almost like a child of the 501st group (based on personality). He was playfully flirty to me at times, but overall, was like sunshine after rain. He had a large tattoo of the previous Galactic Republic on his bald head, and a 5 o'clock shadow. Like Fives, he was injured badly but was healing. 

Gregor, one of the few who survived relatively unscathed and a republic commando, was a bit shorter than his brothers. He had longer black hair that was neatly styled, and stubble growing in like Jesse. Rumor had it that his hair was much longer once. He was built like a boulder though, with large shoulders and seeming a bit thicker in build than his other brothers. His gentle nature contrasted his look greatly. 

Kix was probably the most average looking of all the clones, and their medic. Once in cryo after some mystery mission, got rescued by pirates a good while ago, now helping the injured that survived the Order. He had a short sort of haircut with black hair, and friendly brown eyes like the rest of his brothers. Only, his eyes seemed to be able to comfort anyone and managed to speak in the calmest voices possible. 

Echo had a messy sort of story, and his appearance made that possible. His skin was slightly lighter than the deep tan of his brothers, and he had darkened eye sockets, like he was constantly sick (though he was perfectly healthy). Multiple scars could be seen on his head in a particular pattern, and black hair was coming in like the crew cuts of Rex and Fives. He had a handprint on his armor, which made him stand out. He was also practically stuck by Fives’ side at all times, including around the campfire. 

The last one was Wolffe, the one clone I knew before the mess Order 66 had caused. He was very different from his brothers. He had a pink scar going over right eye, and in the eye socket was a white cybernetic eye (it made him almost seem like he was blind on that side). He had short black hair like many of his brothers there, but it looked most similar to Kix. He was probably the tallest, even if it was by little over an inch. He had a stubble shadow, like Jesse and Gregor. Like the wolves on Lothal, he was built to fight and it showed. His biceps were certainly the second largest, outranked by Gregor, and thighs able to crush skulls (if he wanted). Without his top half of armor on and relaxing in his blacks, there was the clear outline of abs on his waist. I wasn’t sure I picked that detail up. He nearly killed me when I first arrived with Maul, Eli, and Ahsoka. My eyes remained focused on the fire in front of me, memories flooding my brain.

It was done, the Order initiated and finished in only what seemed like an hour. My clothes were dirtied by dust and almost ratty. Maul was in his usual sith robe attire, minus the usual cloak that hid away his features. We were sitting at a small table in what was like a casual living room. Eli and Ahsoka were whispering to each other nearby, wiping away a few stray tears. This Order had killed many of their friends, and clones alike. Families were shattered and Sidious was to blame, me and Maul knew that for sure. Ahsoka nodded to Eli, and then walked up to the bridge of the ship. Eli fixed her neutral colored Jedi robes and turned to Maul. 

“Lucky for us, our ship is arriving at the safety rendezvous soon. I’d be wary of a few clones, they may think you’re against them so. . . don’t act too aggressive.” Maul leaned on the heel of his hand and gave an expression similar to someone raising an eyebrow. “Eli my dear, I’m constantly fueled by anger, driven by spite and revenge for years. Being aggressive is my personality.” I didn’t care to speak or include themselves in conversation. I simply hid in the hood of my Sith robe and remained silent. Eli turned to me, “Hey Mendax, there’s one guy who you’ll know once we arrive. Though I’m not sure he’d be the most happy to see you. Not the biggest fan of Sith still.”

“Don’t humor me. I’m not looking to make friends.” 

Eli scoffed, then rolled their eyes. “Alright, fine, sit and brood. But you better not say anything that will make you end up with blaster holes.” I chuckled, then looked Eli in the eye, “If that were to happen, I’d consider it a mercy.” The Jedi turned away and went to join Ahsoka Tano on the bridge. Maul sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I know you’re still hurting, I can sense it. . .”

“I just don’t understand. . . It feels cruel to live. To live in such darkness as overpowering as this. All the death he brought, to us, to the Jedi-”

“I know that’s not the real reason you’re upset, Mendax. . . Savage would want you to live on. He loved you, so dearly.” I was silent, then leaned on Maul’s shoulder. Maul slowly placed a gloved hand on my head. He wasn’t one to regularly give comforting touch, but this. . . this was nice. 

“Things will change now, and we’ll move past Sidious’ plans.”

When we were introduced, almost all the clones had aimed their guns at us. Wolffe seemed a bit hesitant to aim at me though, instead aiming at Maul. A few good sassy remarks were thrown, but we all agreed no more killing was needed. Wolffe still kept a close eye on me as days went on, however.

Jesse’s laughter tore me from my thoughts and into his conversation. All of the clones seemed happy, or amused. I glared at them and asked, “What’s so funny, boys?”

“Oh, nothing Mendax. We’re comparing body count and the comments made about us.” Body count? Was this a sick count of all the enemies killed? Fives made an impression of what sounded like a moan, then said, “Oh Fives, you know just how to please me!”

“No way! There’s no way you can please a woman with as rough as a hand like yours!” Nope, definitely not an enemy body count. 

My face felt a little hot once I’d realized. I guess I should’ve known that soldiers like clones had needs. They weren’t Jedi so sexual acts were more. . . allowed? Wolffe was the only one who wasn’t talking about who fucked the best or how many men or women they spent a night of pleasure with. Feeling a little bothered plus warmed by the fire, I removed the cloak from around my body. 

Fives was the first to try and get Wolffe to join in. “Hey, Wolffe! What’s your body count, hmm? I bet it’s a high one, what with the ‘rugged charm’ I’ve heard some women say about you.”

 Wolffe grunted, taking a drink from a small cup he held in one of his hands. Fives went on, “Grunting is not usually an acceptable answer to a question, Wolffe.” 

“It is now,” Wolffe replied, eyes landing on me as I sat across from him by the firepit. His gaze seemed to soften, and then he went back to staring at the contents in his cup. Fives decided not to push further, but rather turn to me. “And what about you, Mendax? Did the great Sith lord ever get any love?~”

“As much as I admire the Sith and their passions, we never really see many who use passion in a sense that they fight for someone. Most use passion more as ambition, seeking power and their way.”

“I asked if you had a boyfriend once, not your philosophies,” Fives said, rolling his eyes. I scoffed, and glared at him, “No, does that satisfy your curiosity? I had no one. All I had was Maul to oversee my progress and Savage to. . . to make me feel less lonely.”

“Define less lonely. . .” 

Jesse shoved Fives, “Shut up. She’s obviously never had a boyfriend.” Wolffe turned his gaze to me again; I couldn’t tell what emotion was behind his eyes. A few of the brothers muttered to each other, then turned to Wolffe. He caught on to the staring and sneered, “What?”

“So are you going to tell her, or. . .?” Wolffe gave a low growl at Kix. He practically barked at him, “Know your place, soldier. And stop your insane claims.” Kix held his arms up in surrender, and smiled, “Just saying, Commander.” Rex rolled his eyes, then lightly shook his head. Clearly, the captain was getting just as annoyed as Wolffe was at his men. I couldn’t really blame him. Darkness was swallowing the forest around us; Rex added more logs to keep the fire burning. 

“So, what’s the sleeping situation, boys? Since the generals and Maul are gone?” Gregor had asked, his meek voice coming through with the brief silence. Echo wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “I already figured it out for you.” He pointed at one of the ships, the largest one of them all. “That one will hold me, Fives, and Rex,” he said. Echo then pointed to the smaller ship next to it, saying, “That one there will be for you, Jesse, and Kix.” The smallest ship there was a simple cruiser, but good enough for a few people to live on, and it was the one Echo pointed to next. “That ship there is where Wolffe and Mendax will be,” he concluded. Rex started to snicker to himself, and tried to cover it with one of his gloved hands. “Something funny, Captain?” Wolffe asked. Rex replied, “No no, it’s nothing. Just laughing at the arrangements.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll have a ship alone with Mendax. And I don’t want to ruin the moment for the two virgins.” 

Wolffe growled loudly at Rex’s comment, clenching the cup tightly in his hand. His voice lowered dangerously low, “How about you shut it, Captain? I’m sure you men would hate to see their leader suddenly get a black eye and busted lip.” Rex squinted at Wolffe, “You think your strength could save you there? You believe that you can take on the Captain of the 501st in a fist fight?” 

“Oh, I know it would. My squadron regularly fights in the dirt, so what makes you think this will end with you winning against me.” The two brothers got up and stood in front of each other, Wolffe glaring slightly down at Rex and teeth bared. Rex seemed relatively calm, but a sneer was forming on his features. “How about you prove it, Commander?” Rex challenged. Wolffe stiffened and clenched his fists tight. The two of them raised their fits, ready to fight then and there. Hearing enough banter, I got up and decided to stop the impending fight.

“SILENCE! If you keep bickering, I’ll give you all a good reason to shut up!” The flames of the fire flared, and burned bright for a few moments. Silence followed my shout, besides the cracking of the firewood.

 All the clones looked at me in shock, Jesse’s, Kix’s and Fives’ faces all slowly turned to smiles as they looked at Wolffe. He was staring at me, eyes wide and blinking as if he was processing what had happened. I could only imagine that my eyes changed, a little side effect of being Sith. If I was angry enough, they looked just like Maul’s. Rex sat down next to his men, “Sorry Sir.” I huffed, calming down and rubbing the back of my neck. Wolffe made a rumbly noise in the back of his throat, before stomping off. Gregor called out to him, “Where are you going, Wolffe?!” 

“To relax! And hit the refresher!” The rest of the clones made attempts to bring Wolffe back, but it was in vain. He’d already entered the ship, and disappeared from view. I sat back down by the fire, hearing the clones burst into some sort of shanty, and had their arms around each other’s shoulders. It was touching, to see them still act like family even after everything. It was almost like Order 66 didn’t happen. But it did. 

The moons of the planet were well in the sky, and it’d been nearly an hour since Wolffe went into the ship he and I would supposedly share. The fire was dying, as was the nightly commotion. There was less energy, less blood flowing through the clones’ veins. Growing restless of being quiet while the clones talked amongst themselves, I got up and put my cloak on. I mumbled, “Heading in for the night. . .” before trudging over to the shared ship. I stretched my limbs and back, beginning my walk towards the beds. There were at least five rooms, each one with a decently sized space and bed. Making my way down the hall, I passed by the way leading to the refresher. I paused, hearing that it was still on. “Wolffe must like long hot showers,” I thought to myself. I was about to walk on, when I heard quiet grunting, then what sounded like mumbling. 

“Mendax-” I heard, barely heard over the water running in the refresher. A few curses followed, and I felt a bit of panic. Did he hurt himself? Did he know I was here? I slowly walked through the small locker room, seeing Wolffe’s armor and blacks resting on a bench. Moving past them, I peeked into the refresher room.

 It was a line of refreshers in glass stalls on the opposite wall from the entrance. The floor was tile, leading into the locker room. Only one of the refreshers had their door closed, somewhat clouded up with steam. The amount of steam in the room made the air humid, and I was sure that my hair was starting to puff up with it. There was a towel on a hook nearby said refresher. Moving closer, but out of view, my face heated up as I looked at what was in front of me. 

Wolffe was still in the refresher, but certainly not injured. His eyes were screwed shut, brow furrowed and biting his bottom lip. He was naked of course, water washing over him and moving down his body. Leaning against one of the tile walls of the refresher, one of his arms rested against the wall he leaned against, and his other was in front of him. He had hair on his chest, leading down to a nice trimmed happy trail leading down to his cock, where his hand was a bit. . . busy. He groaned again, his hand wrapped around his cock and moving faster. Wolffe’s head leaned back against the tile, his mouth slightly open now as a soft moan past his lips. He was close, very close.

“Fuck- Mendax~, I want you so bad~. . . Make me feel so good.” Wolffe’s voice was lower by an octave or two, rumbling and lustful. 

I’d be lying if that didn’t cause some sort of feeling between my legs. He was so vulnerable, and definitely not bad to look at. We had had our differences before and were becoming something of friends, but this? It was a little unexpected. 

Scrambling to get away, I made the mistake of kicking his helmet. It made a clatter that echoed through the whole of the locker room. Ashamed that I’d be caught. I hid behind the small wall of lockers in the middle of the changing room. The noise of the refresher being on stopped, and there was silence. Very tense silence. I heard the sound of bare feet walking on the tile, moving to where Wolffe’s armor was. They stopped, and the silence returned. He was behind the lockers, where I was hiding. Suddenly the footsteps sounded like they moved away and out to the hallway. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. Slowly, I moved around closer to the refresher room and towards the edge of the locker wall. I peeked around, and looked for Wolffe. He wasn’t there, but his armor was still on the bench. That was odd. . . I turned back and collided with something solid and damp. 

I pulled away and found myself staring into a pair of eyes, one an amber like brown, and the other a pale cybernetic white. I froze, and felt immensely flustered. Wolffe had a towel wrapped low around his hips, the happy trail disappearing under the soft white cloth. A few droplets were still moving down Wolffe’s body, and he felt very warm, even just by being so close to him. His cheeks were reddened, and a blank expression on his face. I gulped, swallowing down my nervousness and composing myself. 

“What are you doing in here?” Wolffe asked, his voice low and rumbly like he was in the refresher. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms, “Was wondering why you were taking so long in the refresher.” Wolffe didn’t seem to buy my reasoning. He leaned down, trapping me with his hands on either side of my head. 

“Really? And you didn’t hear anything?” I shook my head, not bearing to look Wolffe in the eyes. “Liar,” he growled out. He knew, of course he knew. One of his hands grabbed my jaw and forced me to face him. 

“Look at me in the eye.” My eyes moved back to lock on Wolffe’s. His human eye was blown with lust, brown being swallowed by inky, hungry black. I found myself looking at his lips, and the feeling between my legs returned. Wolffe tilted my chin up, “I’ll be honest with you. When you said you’d give us a reason to shut up, my mind went to. ..  less than innocent ideas. And I couldn’t sit with them all when you were right there and looking so . . . delicious.” I let out an exhale through my nose, and dared to ask, “Like what? Hmm?”

Wolffe let out a guttural growl, and the hand holding my chin moved down to my neck. He gave a light squeeze as his lips moved to whisper in my ear. “I want you to shut me up and kiss me until I forget my fucking name. . . I want to swallow all of your moans into my mouth, know the taste of your lips. I want to feel your tongue, and maybe stop your snark for once.” My thighs were twitching with his words; he didn’t even stutter. My hands found their way on his back, and I raked my nails down the muscle. “Would you like that? Would you like to have me?” he asked. I quietly replied, “I’ve never wanted anything more than that right now. . . but I don’t know what to do. . .” 

“Then I’ll show you. . .” Wolffe’s hands found their way to my thighs and he picked me up with ease. He carried me down into the hallway and opened one of the doors leading to a bedroom. I was carried right to the bed, and the door closed behind him. It was doubtful that anyone would come barging in, so there was not much reason to lock it. He was already trying to take off my robes as he carried me, rushed kisses being pressed to my jawline. Wolffe was desperate, and the desire coursing through him was infectious.

His lips crashed against mine once my back hit the bed, and my legs were wrapped around his hips. They were softer than I anticipated, and much more intoxicating than I believed kisses should be. I felt drunk, limp as Wolffe pushed his tongue into my mouth and hands explored under my now messy robes. He made quick work of the top half of my clothing, almost ripped them in the process. Wolffe’s lips moved down to my neck; my head moved to the side so he had better access. A rumbling noise went through his chest like a building growl and  he bit down into the flesh of my neck. He bit hard enough that I whined at the pinching pain. My feeble attempts of squirming were stopped by the weight of Wolffe moving on top of me: one of his thighs between mine, and hands pinning my wrists down. The gesture of biting and leaving dark bruises on my neck was repeated until my neck and collarbones were littered with the marks like a night sky, varying in size and color. Taking his time and kissing back up to my mouth, Wolffe gave me a tender, sweet kiss.

When he pulled away, I felt cold and my lips felt like they were buzzing.  “I’ve wanted to do this for a while, in honesty. . .” Wolffe muttered, eyes looking over my face and his handiwork. His hands cradled my face lightly, like a feather caressing my skin. The innocence and purity of the gesture was lost when his thumb brushed over my lips and lightly tugged my bottom lip down. I opened my mouth and he pushed his thumb in, groaning as it was coated in my saliva. “Such a pretty little mouth,” he mumbled. 

Wolffe pulled his hand away, then moved to pull off my pants. He started breathing heavily once he had a glance at the mess between my legs. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” was what he said. Without another word, he pulled me to the edge of the bed and knelt between my legs. Moving them so they rested on his shoulders, Wolffe began to mark up my thighs just like my neck. The feeling between my legs was starting to become unbearable, and I was aching to be touched. “You know, you could stop teasing and get to the point,” I grumbled. Wolffe responded by a smack on my thigh, looking up at me. The scene in front of me was sinful, and I thought it was all a dream since it seemed too good to be true. 

“You want me to get to the point?” I nodded. 

“Then I won’t stop til you’re begging,” he replied before moving his head down. 

The feeling was heavenly, Wolffe’s tongue working through my folds and up to my clit. My hands found their way into his thick hair, tugging on his short black locks. He groaned at the action, then focused on working my clit. My body was twitching, and my back began to arch off of the bed. “Fuck- Oh Maker- Wolffe~!” were just a few of the words that spilled from my mouth out of pleasure. I tried to push him even closer, digging my heels into his muscular back and my thighs squeezing his head. It was almost embarrassingly fast how close I got in a matter of seconds, and my orgasm came with little warning. The pleasure was white hot, I felt like I was floating and my moans filled the room. Wolffe worked through it, and even a moment after I’d come down from the blissful high. My legs were twitching, and in the pale dim lights that were on in the room, I saw Wolffe look up at me with a smug look and my wetness on his chin. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, and hummed, “My assumption was correct, you do taste delicious.” I sighed and flopped back against the bed to catch my breath. 

“Maker above, that was nice. . .” Wolffe chuckled at my comment.

“It’ll get better.”

“Hm?” I looked down to see Wolffe taking off his towel and his cock ready for attention. He was big, as far as I could tell. Moving himself closer, Wolffe held onto my legs and I felt him nudge my core. “I’ll go slow, ok?” His voice was quiet and gentle again. I pulled him down into a quick kiss, and gave a soft smile. “I know you won’t hurt me,” I said. Wolffe gave a short nod and held onto my waist. He pushed himself in slowly, and his jaw clenched tightly as he did. A struggling groan came from his mouth, and was joined by a weak moan of mine. Once fully in, he was panting and practically laying on top of me. Wolffe was cursing under his breath, resting his forehead against mine. “This feels- mm fuck- way better than I imagined. . . Fuck me, you’re killing me over here,” he managed to rasp out. As if I wasn’t aroused enough, his praise pushed me even further. 

I held his face in my hands, watching as he looked at me with a half-lidded, dazed gaze. “You can move now,” I said. He didn’t move at first, and I was about to tell him again until he interrupted me. 

With a voice lowering a good few octaves, he asked, “You want me to move, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes.” My impatience was getting to me.

Wolffe gave a grin, “Then beg.” 

I could only assume I made a somewhat amusing shocked expression, because Wolffe chuckled. “You heard me, beg for me to move,” he said. I didn’t want to, at first. After all, I was a Sith and he was just a clone. I could’ve overpowered him and take control easily, yet I didn’t. My desire was getting the best of me, and I could barely move from underneath him. So I begged for Wolffe.

“Please- Please move, I need you.”

“Please who? What do you call me, sweetheart?” This was near torture at this point, but I went along.

“Please Sir. . . Please move~.” He smiled again, and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

“There’s my good girl~.”

 Wolffe moved slowly, but Maker did it feel great. The slow drag of him against my walls was enough to make me start digging my nails into his shoulders. He wasn’t patient though; soon he was sitting up and setting a brutal pace. I was moaning, loud enough to probably end up being heard from the hallway. Wolffe’s brow was furrowed, but the smug grin on his face told me that he was enjoying having power over me. “Moaning like a bitch for me, and I’m the only one who can do that, right?~ Only I can make you moan and desperately beg~.” I tried to growl at him, to try and show that I didn’t like the degradation. My body betrayed me, and I could only moan and try to move in response instead. He was growling and panting, keeping his pace and his gaze staying on me. “Look at you, covered in my marks and bites. Kriffing beautiful and all mine to look at~. All fucking mine~.” Given that biting seemed to be the way he showed his affection, it was no surprise that it came with possessiveness as well. When one of his hands came down to rub my clit, I was already close again.

“Maker- Wolffe, Sir- I’m so fucking close-”

“You close? You wanna make a mess all over my cock? You wanna beg for me to make you finish?” 

All of the pride and dignity I had was long gone by then, and of course I begged. Of course I said, “Yes, please! Please, Sir!” I was glad he was so merciful. He replied, “Now, you can finish.” And I did, shaking and grabbing at the sheets. I heard myself almost yelling, and I’m pretty sure I screamed out Wolffe’s name too. Wolffe’s pace stuttered, and began to get sloppy. Not a few moments later, he finished as well, spilling himself inside of me and throwing his head back in bliss. He made what sounded like a groan, or maybe he was biting back a moan. Either way, we were both very satisfied by the end. 

In a dazed and half awake state, we managed to fix ourselves under the sheets and get comfortable. I found myself clinging to Wolffe’s side, resting my head on his chest as his arm was wrapped around me. His thumb traced small circles into my back. A realization came to me that night; I’d fallen for him. Badly. I didn’t have the heart to tell him then, but I knew I would when the time was right. With fatigue pulling at my eyelids, I curled up next to Wolffe and slept soundly for the first time in a good while. 

Bonus:

The clones were heading to their ships for the night, but they made a decision to just crowd the ship farthest away from Mendax and Wolffe. In a crowded and simple room with bunks, the clones whispered to each other. “I told you it would happen, now pay up!” Fives whisper-yelled to Echo. Echo begrudgingly handed him a few credits, and huffed. Jesse was also passing credits in the dimness. Rex sat up slightly and rubbed his eyes, “Men, what are you doing?” Fives gave a half-hearted laugh, “I’m surprised you slept through it. Wolffe and Mendax just did the deed. I made a bet that they would do it tonight, so now the boys owe me. Well, except you and Gregor.” Fives looked over to Gregor, who was busy hiding his head under his pillow. “I think he’s scarred for life,” Jesse added. Kix interrupted, “Yeah yeah, you won. Now can we sleep?” “They should be done now,” Fives replied. Rex rolled his eyes and went back to sleep. 

“Go to bed, boys.”

“. . . Yes Sir.” 

There was a brief silence, and a moment of peace.

“. . . Should we tell them we heard?”

“No way, Jesse. They’d kill us.”

“. . . What if we told Maul and Eli when they get back, Fives?”

“They’d kill them, well, Maul would.”

Another silence.

“. . . Who do you think started it?”

“GO TO BED, BOYS!”

“Sorry, Rex. . .”

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 34: Hot Springs by C_R_Scott Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

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Summary:

Along the way to Ivarstead, the trio happen upon a set of hot springs...

Despite how rocky things started off that morning, as Tim and his companions continued along the road leading towards Ivarstead, things mellowed out somewhat. 

The most obvious quality of life improvement with Kaidan now travelling with them was that weaker threats like skeevers, small wolves, and the occasional small group of bandits that would've tried to take a chunk out of him or Lucien previously were content to keep their distance. Dressed in heavy steel armor with that giant sword longer than most men strapped to his back, Tim was honestly glad for the obvious visual threat deterrence Kaidan provided. After his argument with Lucien, and after spending half the night rescuing their new friend from the Thalmor, Tim was not in a mood to finish any fights started by the wildlife or wandering criminal population of Skyrim. 

While Lucien focused on conversing with Kaidan for most of the morning, Tim enjoyed the newfound peace and quiet of this leg of the journey and having a few hours to observe his surroundings alone with his own thoughts. The further they went, the more mountainous and wooded the terrain became, and the more enamored he became with his surroundings

The young man took note of the types of trees and plants that grew in abundance around him. Idly he wondered which were useful, potentially edible plants and which were toxic. He also made it a point to be mindful of movements of the animals that wandered amongst the trees. If he was going to have to survive out here, he needed to learn know how to identify, at a glance, the harmless creatures from the more dangerous ones that would immediately see him and his companions as a quick meal. 

"I should buy another journal, just for field notes, and pencils for sketching," Tim thought to himself. "I wish cameras were a thing here." There was so much... too much... to see and learn.

    "Word is, the waters here are good for you." 

The sun was starting to get affectionate with the horizon and Tim glanced backward to notice that Kaidan had paused to look at something just off the cobblestone path. He followed the swordsman's gaze to an interesting looking location on the other side of the river they'd been following towards their destination.

"What is that?" he asked

"Hot springs," Kaidan explained as he went to a better ledge overlooking the river and the pools beyond. "I've passed by every now and again over the years, but never indulged myself. The locals believe the water has healin' properties, and somehow they stay warm all year round."

"We have to camp here tonight!"

Kaidan and Lucien both looked at Tim curiously, who was staring at the hot springs with an expression of obvious longing.

"We 'have' to?" Lucien asked.

Tim whipped his head to his two travelling companions. "Yes! We 'have' to!" he insisted. Then, without even waiting for the other two to agree or disagree, Tim started making is way off the beaten path towards an obvious set of large stones that could easily serve as a makeshift bridge to across the river. After sharing a confused glance and a shrug of shoulders, Kaidan and Lucien both followed after him.

It didn't take Tim long to reach the outer edges of the hot springs ahead of his companions. The air was unfamiliarly warm and humid and there was a distinct medicinal aroma in the air. Tim took it all in with relish. As he got to the waters' edge, he tugged off one of his gloves and tested the temperature of both the sands on the shoreline as well as the water with his hand. He didn't even bother trying to mask the murmur of approval that escaped his lips.

"Are you seriously considering indulging in these springs, Timothy?"

Tim nodded at Lucien as he rose to his feet and tugged his glove back on. "I am not passing up this opportunity," he said as he glanced at the clearing just a dozen or so yards away from the water's edge. There was more than enough room to comfortably set up camp, and Tim was quick to set down his pack and pull out the things needed to set up their tent. 

"Opportunity?" Kaidan echoed with with confusion, which was rewarded with an exasperated grumble.

"It has been literal weeks since I've been able to take a decent bath since I woke up in Skyrim," Tim told Kaidan as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Not to mention it's cold all the damned time out here, especially at night! Every day the choice is either be clean and flirting with frostbite or stay decently warm but filthy." He glanced at Lucien, who was observing him with a fair amount of growing amusement.

"I think you're exaggerating a bit regarding how cold it is out here," the scholar chuckled.

"I probably am, but I don't care," Tim said matter-of-factly as he started setting up the tent as quickly and efficiently as he could. "You want me to not look for trouble tonight? Then this is your best chance for it, because short of a fucking dragon attack I am not squandering the chance for a hot bath and a decent night's sleep in a place that's actually radiating warmth instead of sucking it out of me."

While Kaidan regarded Tim with a fair amount of undisguised concern before borrowing an axe to collect firewood, Lucien just continued to snicker under his breath as he pulled out the cooking gear and ingredients from his own bag. It was his turn to cook, after all.

   "I am never taking hot baths for granted ever again," Tim thought to himself with a content sigh once he finally sank chest deep into the springs after finding a spot where there was a natural stone ledge next to the water's edge that allowed him to lounge comfortably while submerged. After camp had been set up, the sun had set, and Lucien had just started cooking, Tim was adamant about enjoying the springs as early and as long as he possibly could. After assuring Lucien and Kaidan he'd only be a few yards away, Tim made his way to the nearest deep pool he could find, stripped off his gear and clothing, and stepped into the deliciously hot waters.  After taking several minutes to actually clean his skin and hair, the young man finally settled into a mostly tranquil state as he stared up at the starry night sky with its twin moons. It was so warm and peaceful out there. One could almost forget that Skyrim was a wild mostly-untamed land full of a wide variety of things that wanted him dead.

Almost...

The subtle sound of something skulking in the shadows of some nearby trees behind him caught his ear. Without moving his head, Tim's eyes glanced towards the trees and recognized the outline of a man among the evergreens. Casually, Tim moved from where he was sitting and made his way back to the shore where his clothes were folded. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a length of linen cloth he was planning on using as a towel. 

A feint. 

From beneath the cover of the linen cloth, Tim slipped several throwing stars into his hand. Then, as quickly as he could, he threw the stars at the evergreens right where the shadows looked most man-shaped. They whistled through the air and embedded themselves in the trunks of the trees with solid "THUNKS".

"What the fu--?!" the man in the darkness shouted as he quickly stumbled away from where the wickedly sharp metal stars had nearly clipped him. Unfortunately for that poor soul, the stars themselves had been another feint. 

While the stranger was distracted, Tim had wrapped the linen cloth around his waist and recovered his metal quarterstaff. On the silence of bare feet and without the weight of his own armor slowing him down, the vigilante rushed his distracted stalker and struck him with a headshot and a couple of body blows from his staff before finally taking him completely off his feet, where he crashed to the sandy shore with a clatter of metal.

Wait... Metal?

"What in the world is going on?" Lucien called out as he rushed to where Tim stood with a lantern in hand. As soon as the light was close enough to chase the shadows away, it was clear who Tim's unfortunate victim was.

"Kaidan?!"

Their new swordsman, flat on his back on the sand, groaned as he brought a hand up to his head. "What the Oblivion was that?"

Tim relaxed his defensive stance. "Were you... spying on me?!"

"Guardin'," Kaidan muttered as he gingerly eased himself up into a seated position. "Least, that was the plan. To keep watch your back while you were... vulnerable." He glanced at Lucien. "I thought you said he was bad at self-preservation?"

"I did, but I meant that in the way that he frequently throws himself into dangerous situations without any concern for his own health and wellbeing." Lucien shook his head, set down the lantern, and cast a quick healing spell over their swordsman. "When it comes to actual combat, Timothy's really quite skilled."

Tim leaned against his staff as he watched Lucien finish his healing. "Y'know Kaidan, you could've just told me you were worried about my safety before I went into the water."

"You wanted to bathe. I figured you'd tell me to sod off for privacy."

"I would've said, 'Do what you want. I don't give a fuck.' I can watch my own back just fine though." After taking a moment to retrieve his throwing stars from the nearby tree, Tim turned back to the pool. "Now if you guys don't mind, I'm going back to finish my bath."

Now that Kaidan was upright and he could see Tim more clearly in the lantern light, the swordsman took a moment to get a good look at the lines of the young man's body that had previously been hidden beneath layers of leather armor. Though he'd originally assumed he was a noble or scholar based on how Tim spoke and carried himself, as well as how he interacted with Lucien, Tim's body told a different story. His muscles were lean and well defined, looking like they'd been built over years of training for speed and finesse, rather than raw power and brute strength. His pale skin was also a map of scars scattered across both his torso and his limbs.

As Tim walked off, Kaidan noticed something that made his breath catch in his throat. It was the sight of Tim's burn scars consuming nearly the entirety of the young man's back and part of his left upper arm.

--- NOTE:

Indulging in little slices of life as Tim, Luci, and Kai travel towards Ivarstead. I'd forgotten initially during the playthrough that the hot springs were along one of the main paths to Ivarstead, so when Kaidan commented on it in-game I couldn't resist the pit stop.

It's been in the back of my mind that Tim has been missing a lot of modern conveniences since waking up in Skyrim. Motorized vehicles, computers, and cell phones/communication devices have been obvious ones. However, it occurred to me that things like regular access to hot baths would also be sorely missed too, especially in a region as cold as Skyrim, especially when you're spending days to weeks on end out on the road or in the wilderness.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

[shih-coulda-had-it]

2 and 27 nanakikoooooo

2 (Royal AU) & 27 (Sick/Injured) | Nanahiko

//

Different fantasy AU than the one where Toshinori is the One who Would be King, but definitely still fantasy AU. The Dread God Usurper is just a hoity-toity title for AFO. And for the reader’s information, Sorahiko and Nana are in an arranged marriage, yet had never met before this night.

//

Their flight from the castle was only successful because no one had expected the heiress to co-opt an escape with the visiting mercenary. Of course, it was also likely because the guardsmen were distracted by the undead, surfacing from the earth, under the thrall of the Dread God Usurper.

Somehow, this was not Shimura Nana’s top priority.

“Hey,” she said sharply, jostling the mercenary’s head from where it had dipped onto her shoulder. Nana had commandeered the man’s horse, so she had the reins, but as she couldn’t just leave him, he had sat behind her and (presumably) guarded their backs. Nevertheless, Nana wasn’t about to show gratitude like that.

He murmured something in return, groggy. Nana discerned the words ‘arrow’ and ‘hurts.’

“I’m sorry, you’ve been shot by an arrow?”

“Hn,” he answered, and Nana felt his weight suddenly shift sideways. She hastily reached backwards in an attempt to prop him up; chancing a glance backwards, Nana saw a broken arrow shaft sticking out of his shoulder.

She shrieked.

“Quiet,” said the man. Fortunately for him, the garbled plea was comprehensible enough that Nana managed to put a lid on it and prevent them from being thrown.

“How long has that been there?” Nana demanded, and turned her attention to scouring their surroundings for any safe haven.

The castle was the center of the capital, a sprawling city that boasted zero walls, a rigorously-maintained waterworks and sewage system, and more roads than the city patrol knew how to deal with. The Shimuras’ lax approach to securing the heart of their kingdom was a character flaw, only balanced by the fact that Shimuras were rarely holding court, instead choosing to personally tend to the borders.

One positive consequence of a roaming royal-in-disguise: every innkeeper did their utmost to present their businesses well, and at a bargain price, in the hopes that they would have the repeat honor of hosting royalty.

Another positive consequence: there were many, many inns.

Some of which would not be averse to bloodied men. Or women in bloodied dresses.

“Milady,” the man slurred, and Nana startled at how close the rumble was to her ear. “Wha’s happenin’?”

“Did you forget the past hour?” she asked, incredulous. She spotted several men, still merry (because who, who could have fled from the castle yet and alert the capital that it had fallen besides her and her companion?) and drunk, slipping out of a door spilling warm yellow light.

Nana nudged the horse over to the establishment’s small set of stables, wrinkling her nose at the smell. By the grace of the gods, she thought in relief, seeing several vacancies.

“Okay, down we go,” she said, and she watched the man sluggishly brace himself against her and slide off his horse. Once both of his feet were planted on the ground, Nana followed suit.

“Don’t run off with my horse.”

“I have absolutely no plans to do that,” Nana lied, and coaxed the man to release his grip on the saddle. He made a wounded noise when pushed away, but did nothing to stop Nana from stabling the horse.

Did nothing but stare, Nana corrected herself, freezing in the act of pulling out her coin-purse from between her breasts.

“What,” she said defensively.

“What?”

And then he tipped forward. Nana caught him, grunted at the weight, and resigned herself to lugging him inside. Though the innkeeper was cleaning up the messes of his previous customers, she was swift to pass the chore off to a maid and speak with Nana.

“Do you need a healer, m’lady?” she asked, wiping her hands on a rag.

“A room first,” Nana decided. She readjusted the arm slung over her shoulders and winced at the pitiful whimper. “Hot water and clean rags too, please. Anything you can spare for bandages. I’ll pay for the expenses.”

“Alright.” Blissfully, no questions were asked. After giving additional instructions to the maid, she fetched an oil lamp and said, “Follow me.”

Nana dragged her companion up a flight of stairs, until the innkeeper opened the first door to their left, holding it open and allowing them to step over the threshold. It was a cramped space, minimally furnished. Nana nearly tripped upon seeing the single bed.

“Need two?” asked the innkeeper.

“Ah,” said Nana. She plunged past her hesitation; the Usurper was infamous for his Hunts, and anything Nana could do to cover her tracks would be beneficial. Leaning in conspiratorially, Nana whispered, “The single is fine. It’s just that, he’s a rather large man, isn’t he?”

That earned her a grin. “A large man’s a large target.”

“As we unfortunately learned,” she agreed. The innkeeper waited for Nana to deposit the man onto the bed, face-first, and then exchanged a handful of coin for the key and light. “I’ll take a plate of dinner as well, please.”

“Any for him?”

“If he wants to eat, he’ll have to wake up first.”

Nana saw the woman out, and finally turned her attention to the man. He was tall, sturdily-built, with awfully soft-looking silver hair and a prominently-curved nose. And he was blearily awake, watching her through half-lidded eyes, the pale irises barely catching the yellow light.

“Did you want something to eat?” she asked, approaching the bed and surveying the damage.

“Something to drink,” he said hoarsely. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

He laughed into the pillow, and it was humorless and despairing. It eventually petered out into a low curse, then an unsteady statement. “This… was not how I wanted to be meeting you for the first time.”

Nana blinked. “I didn’t realize I was expecting you.”

“Oh. That’s a comfort.”

“You can’t stop there,” she said, poking his uninjured shoulder. “Who are you to me, mercenary?”

“‘Mercenary’?” the man echoed in disbelief. “No, I’m - ” His breath hitched. There was a shadow at the door; Nana leapt up to retrieve the basin of hot water and rags (and an unasked for knife), and ushered the girl away. She didn’t want an audience for this next part.

“You’re…?” Nana encouraged. She set the supplies on the floor.

“Sorahiko. Sorahiko from the Yamanashi Kingdom. I was here because - because - ”

“Prince Sorahiko,” she corrected, reeling just a little bit. Nana recognized the name, even if she couldn’t quite place the degree of importance. Was he a valuable trading partner? An ally? “You’re the Torino scion!”

“Soon to be deceased,” he muttered.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

“I have an arrow sticking out of my shoulder, and I don’t think even a warrior-queen is trained in the healing arts,” Sorahiko snarked. The burst of sarcasm faltered. “Did you really not recognize me?”

Nana, though feeling guilty about the earlier plan to rob him of his horse and supplies, was not about to be guilt-tripped by a sad small voice. “I hadn’t paired faces to names yet,” she said, defensive. “That’s usually a thing that happens after the coronation.”

“It really isn’t,” he told her.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know, considering what’s happened.” Nana exhaled sharply, then steeled herself. “That was the Usurper back there, did you notice?”

“Hard not to.” Sorahiko stirred, winced, and dug his face into the pillow. His words came out muffled: “He’s supposed to be a folktale boogeyman for bullies. What’s he doing, coming for your throne?”

“I’m glad you asked. Can you keep a secret?”

They breathed in silence for several seconds, the tension thick. Then, Sorahiko snorted and turned his head; Nana saw his profile outlined against the pillow, the wry curve of his smile.

“Dead men tell no tales. That’s how the adage goes.”

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, exasperated, and tapped into the power of One for All for strength (to hold Sorahiko down), for grace (to remove the arrow with as little damage possible), and for mercy (to heal the wound). Sorahiko cried out, one hand clawing at the sheets by his face, the other flailing backwards in an attempt to dissuade her.

Nana held on. The affair took less than a minute, and by the end of it, Sorahiko’s entire frame trembled with the aftershocks, and Nana’s skin felt tingly, charged with static electricity. She tossed the arrow shaft aside and picked up the knife.

Perhaps it had been meant for surgery.

She used it to slice his shirt in half. Mutely, Nana waited for Sorahiko to process what the hell just happened, and wiped away the crusted blood. She pressed hard against healed flesh, distantly registering his warmth.

“Oh,” Sorahiko breathed into the bed.

Nana eased up on the pressure. “I don’t know why the Usurper wants my power,” she admitted. “But he’s not supposed to have it.”

Slowly, he sat up. Trying to look regal, Nana assumed, although that was difficult with his shirt in pieces and that - that awestruck expression.

“So?” she asked nervously.

“Let me help you,” said Sorahiko. “He can’t have known we’ve made contact. Come to Yamanashi with me, and let me help you figure out what you need to do.”

She stared at him. “What if - what if it takes forever?”

“Then it takes forever.” A new kind of determination surfaced on his face, and Nana was taken aback at the fluttery feeling in her stomach. “Even if Yamanashi proves unsafe, and you need to run from kingdom to kingdom, just let me go with you. Whatever your task is, it’ll be easier with two.”

“You’ll have to rough it.”

Sorahiko snorted. “I’m not some spoiled whelp, drowning in ruffles and lace. Queen Shimura - ”

“Call me Nana,” she replied, faint, and extended her hand. He mirrored her; they clasped each other’s forearms instinctively, and Nana’s mouth curved into a slight smile that he returned. “I hope you’re not shy, Prince Torino.”

“Call me Sorahiko,” he shot back.

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: Keep You Closer (Can’t Let Go)

Most of the time, I try to pretend 6x10 and 6x11 didn’t even happen in OuaT. It was like they almost gave me everything I had wanted: them returning to the EF, Henry getting to be a knight, Emma experiencing being a princess and having been raised by her parents -- but then turned it all horribly on its head so that I couldn’t enjoy any of it.  Needless to say, right after the episode (before I learned to just try not to think about that little plot side trip too much) I had to write fix-it/missing moment fic to soothe my pain. That - and a well-timed first listen of a country song - brought about this little fic.

This is a post 6x11 one shot, picking up almost from the very end of that episode, minus the sidetrack to August's typing shed. I just needed them to have a moment of private reunion…

(The lyrics at the beginning and end are from Florida Georgia Line's song "H.O.L.Y." and that’s the one which actually gave me the idea for this story with its little line about "…healing hands where it used to hurt…")

{Also available on AO3 and on ff.net}

~~~~~~***~~~~~~

“Keep You Closer Can’t Let Go” 

by: @snowbellewells​

"I couldn't find a day, I didn't feel alone

I never meant to cry, started losin' hope

But somehow baby,

You broke through and saved me

You're an angel, tell me you're never leavin'

'Cause you're the first thing I've found I can believe in…"

After the commotion on the street subsides, the hooded figure from her vision has disappeared (Gold and Belle's son, as it turns out, because – of course it is, why not?!) and her pulse stops hammering in her ears, Emma Swan finds that she is still genuinely hard pressed to loosen her grip on either her son or her pirate. She finds that she has to a bit though, as Henry is starting to squirm and complain good naturedly that he's glad to see her too, but he still needs to breathe. Her father jostles in, needing to hold his daughter for a moment as well and reassure himself of her return, and in short, they can’t make it home for the night clasped in an awkward four-way hug as they are.

Of course, once that initial embrace of adrenaline-fueled relief and joy is broken, there is much to do – as there always is. They have to figure out where Gideon might have vanished and if there's an immediate danger from him, if they should track Gold down and try to force answers from him, and they also need to acclimate this new and different version of Robin to what must seem to him a strangely cockeyed modern world. When everyone has been introduced to him though, Emma is willing to leave that to a still flushed, rather wide-eyed Regina. For a moment – and she tugs on Killian's hand, shooting him a look he returns knowingly, giving her the sense he gets exactly what she is thinking with his affectionate smile – she wants to tease their mayor about 'yearning looks and doe-y eyes', but she holds back. The former Queen has not had her actual True Love himself returned to her, but rather some sort of alternate copy, and that is going to be more than enough for the other woman to shoulder. While Regina may be due some good natured ribbing in return for past snark, Emma can't find it in her heart to dish it out just now.

She wants to speak to August as well, but that will keep for tomorrow; now she wants nothing more than to go home and hold her family close. They all troop back to the house by the water, stumbling exhausted up their front steps. David at last reluctantly parts ways with them to relieve Granny of babysitting duty and check on her younger brother. Emma promises they will come for a late lunch the next day and seriously discuss what they're going to do to right her parents' curse once and for all. It is long overdue for their focus, and she sees it in her father's weariness and heavy heart.

She relishes another tight hug from him with his hand cradling the back of her head. It lends more comfort than she would readily admit after just being in a realm where he was gone and she could never have such an embrace again. Her heart warms with gratitude once more to know that alternate world wasn't real, wasn't permanent, as she watches her dad head off down the street to his and her mom's loft apartment.

Wearily, after stepping into the house with her True Loves, she shucks her leather jacket in the entryway, offering a faint smile of thanks to Henry as he wordlessly takes it from her to hang on the hooks by the door. When he comes back and hugs her tightly, clinging for a few moments in a way he hasn't for quite some time, tears start in her eyes for her brave, goodhearted boy swiftly becoming a man before her eyes. She holds onto him just as tight, swaying back and forth and murmuring soothing words under her breath. She's just thinking that he will love to hear about his Wish Realm self – a newly minted knight and prince of the kingdom riding out on quests wherever he is needed – when, with a sheepish grin and a surreptitious snuffle, Henry seems to want a bit of space to recover himself. "I'm gonna go call Violet and let her know you're back. She was worried about you too," Henry says. And then he's gone – clumping up the stairs all big feet and overlong, lanky limbs; the thumps from the floor overhead still sounding until they hear the muffled thud of his bedroom door close.

Shaking his head as if pleasantly amused by the lad's exuberance and changeable teenage moods, Killian is swift to take her hand and lead her forward into the living room. He doesn't have to do much urging to get her worn, dazed self to settle in the corner of the couch where she usually snuggles up, but she does shoot forward again and start to protest when he kneels before her and starts to remove her boots. "Killian, stop! You don't have to – "

But he gives her a terse shake of the head, searching her eyes with his encompassing gaze as he catches her hands reaching forward to halt him and brings them to his lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles. "Let me, Swan…Emma…please. I didn't know where you were…what was happening to you… Just let me do this?"

Sighing, she deflates, allowing him his way in whatever offers him a modicum of comfort and normalcy. In truth, she is so glad to be with him again, here together in their home, that in itself is enough to relax her nearly into slumber.

She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the back of the couch, and savoring the feel of his strong hands caressing her aching feet as he bares them, wishing they could always be this close – that the world outside would finally leave them alone for even a few hours at once. Reaching her hand out sleepily, she runs her fingers through his dark hair, urging him up close enough to kiss fully and then mumbling against his lips, "Come here Pirate. I need to feel you next to me."

As requested, Killian is beside her in an instant, but before he can wrap her up in his arms and lull her sufficiently into a much-needed sleep, Emma stills him, reaching out herself to trace his beloved features, once more looking as she has come to know them. She smooths a shock of his coarse fringe back off his forehead, lovingly stroking the strands for a moment as if they are great treasure.

Her fingers move on to dance over his temple and the bridge of his nose, and for a moment her pirate's brow quirks in puzzlement, wondering what she is doing, but not willing to speak or break this quiet spell between them. As her fingertips trace the old healed cut high on one cheekbone and then the outline of his full, strong mouth, his eyes slip closed; relaxing under her ministrations much as she had done with his minutes before, surrendering himself to her need to touch, to assure herself that he is right within her reach.

Emma can't quit touching him. She needs the warm, soft feel of his skin beneath her hands as assurance that she won't blink and find him taken from her again. It's only when her small, deft hands slip inside his half unbuttoned shirt, and Killian feels her caressing each mark and brand, outlining each muscle and sinew, that he senses something else has happened beyond their painful separation, something that she is now trying to convince herself is over – or wasn't real at all – through feeling as well as sight, by cataloguing every dip and curve of him, to make sure he is as he should be.

Still, Killian makes no move to stop her, to ask questions, until Emma undoes the last of the shirt's fastenings, pulls it from his arms and off his torso with breathless help from him, and then presses herself against his bared skin, ear to his pounding heart, face buried in his scarred chest, and he feels a little shudder go through her, the one small outward sign of what he is more and more certain must be some dreadfulness she is hiding.

"What is it, Emma?" he whispers, hand coming up to smooth over her golden fall of hair, now loosed from its near-constant ponytail for the night and hook resting at her hip lightly.

From where she has curled herself nearly into his lap, his princess murmurs against his collarbone, "I don't want to let you go. Just stay here a little longer. Please, Killian?"

The soft, reverent pads of her fingers trace over his skin, scratching through the dark hair across his chest and stomach and around to his shoulders and back, along various marks of floggings, a survived stabbing, burns and the other traces of an abnormally long life full of violence and pain. Yet, as she does so, as those gentle fingers touch the places he still struggles to lay bare, even for her eyes alone, a soothing balm, an air of healing rolls over the scored and mottled skin – reaching both and easing their frayed sanity in each other's presence.

"I'm right here, Love," he manages hoarsely, lips in the soft hair at the crown of her head. "As long as you wish…There's nowhere else I would want to be."

"Good," she husks, the smallest of more normal smiles quirking the corners of her mouth up as she finally stops seeking every inch of him feverishly and wraps her arms around his torso, clearly preparing to settle in for the night.

There is a peaceful stillness between them for several moments before she offers, not looking at him, but still speaking into his skin, disinclined to pull away from her pirate, even for moment. "There was another you…in that realm. And he was…"

She pauses, obviously searching for words, and though Killian is now achingly curious, wondering if that is what has brought on her desperate need to be so close, to examine each detail of him now, he senses a bit of lightness is in order. "And was I still my devilishly handsome self?" he teases.

Her brow arches sardonically at him and she hums in her throat. "In a manner of speaking," she settles on finally. Then her face sobers, and his chest squeezes at the bereft looks that crosses it once again, "but that's just it…you weren't you. And seeing you there before me – but not – made me miss you even more. I needed you – the real you – so much it hurt." Her hand inches between their bodies to press against her own heart as if holding in the still physical pain.

He takes that hand in his gently and clasps it to his chest. "I am here now, Lass. Trust me, I won't leave you."

"But how long before we're torn apart by something we can't control? Before we lose each other again?" she beseeches plaintively, her voice small and broken, the fear plain in her green eyes.

"It doesn't matter," he says firmly, holding her gaze and blatantly offering the same comfort she gives him with her love and her trust. "Wherever we are sent, whoever tries to separate us, you will always find me. I have faith in that. And, Emma, I will always always find you."

When they both drift off to sleep some minutes later, tangled together in a tight embrace that the worst villain couldn't have unraveled with the most powerful curse, she has chosen to believe it as much as he. That vow, that security, has enveloped and healed them both.

"You're the healing hands where it used to hurt,

You're my saving grace, you're my kinda church…

'Cause you're the first thing I know I can believe in…"

Tagging: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @thislassishooked​ @let-it-raines​ @spartanguard​ @tiganasummertree​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thisonesatellite​ @shireness-says​ @mayquita​ @gingerchangeling​ @blackwidownat2814​ @lfh1226-linda​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ 

[team-council]

Title: It’s never getting titled

TW: Character Death, Lightly Grotesque descriptions of wounds, Possible Scuicidle Implications (I didn’t really mean to imply it like that, but I realize it can be read that way and will tag to be safe)

Description: Takes place directly after the council manages to quell the everblaze from book three. Bronte takes some healing salve to Oralie for her shoulder and reflects on Kenric’s death.

Notes: I would scincerely like to thank anyone who bullied me. I haven’t finished a fic in literally ever, meant a lot. This monstrosity is also not proofread and I am sleep deprived so I’m sure it’s absolute garbage near the end but just ignore that. Might clean it up and put it on ao3 later who knows.

An angry grey sky wept dry shudders of ash over each of the miserable, bowed figures that stumbled across the rolling fields stretching beyond and between the crystalline castles scattering Eternalia’s fading outline. The sun was nothing but a sunken stain on the sky, feathery gold light turned a sick shade of pewter as rising smoke choked the warmth from what of it still lingered beyond the horizon. The neon glare of Everblaze could no longer be seen melting crystal and dragging harsh lines of terror down the face of the distant city, but the air still smelled like burning sugar and dizzying sweetness.

With every ragged breath Bronte drew the saccharine sting of the now extinguished fire coated his tongue anew and prompted another fit of coughing to wrack his body. Though the soot that caked his face in thick, dark splotches had long dried his eyes, the muted sting of fresh burns sweltering along his cheeks and arms coaxed tears to blur his staggering vision. He’d long abandoned attempting anything resembling a graceful stride forward, allowing his feet to stumble over each other with every messy attempt he made to not hit the earth. Ignoring the trembling in his knees. Praying mutely that they might give way beneath him. That he might fall and never get have to get up. A fantasy of melding into the cool grass enticed his mind from the fervent protesting of his aching muscles. He imagined idly how the paled blades would curl at the corners of his mouth, cradle his hands and still the weary tremors that weighted his chest. Dazed, he was unable to keep from fancying what it would be to shatter into the dirt. To become ethereal and unknown, sunken beneath a tangled weaving of root where there would be naught to do but unlearn the world. To divorce sorrow and grief. To let the burdens of the many long centuries he’d endured go in passive dismissal.

His thoughts were interrupted as his foot caught the edge of something tough, and when at last he fell it was only to be met with the glassy, calloused embrace of faceted crystal. A dim, concerned muttering of multiple shrill voices hovered above his head, but as the councillor drew to his knees he found in clarity only the gaunt, drawn man staring back at him through the fuzz of a soot-drowned Amaranth stairway. Reminding him. Mocking him. To disappear was not a mercy he deserved.

“Councillor,”

Bronte was forced to respond when the stairs beneath his legs fell away from him, a large pair of hands having drug him up by the shoulders. Well, respond might have been a gracious word for the half-conscious grunt he managed to the goblin bearing his weight in their palms, his eyes not bothering to search the face of the guard, to know whether or not they held his weakness in contempt or pity. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fathom caring. All that mattered was that there was no attempt to stop him from dragging his reluctant body up the steps, that no hand batted his away from the knob of the door, that the scanner reading the intricacies of his palm managed to make sense of his identity despite how fresh burns and ash might’ve tried and scrub it away. There was no triumph in the silent, inward sliding of the towering doors, no pleasant rush as frigid, bitter air swept the welts tapering down from his forehead. He hardly found himself capable of much but standing at the brink of the darkness that spilled forward into the until living room at his feet.

Lavish furniture sat steeped in shadows deep enough to sink under, curtains drawn to block the pitiful laces of grey-yellow light that might have struggled through had they been parted. Bronte’s own silhouette was absorbed effortlessly into the black, his whole body soon after as he mindlessly stepped forward, doors clicking shut at his back with an echo of finality.

The world was void of sound until the shake of a fragile breath bit the quiet in faint retaliation. Bronte followed the quivering whimper around the barest, ebon outline of a table, managing to discern only a tenebrous jumble of shapes wrapped up in the stifle of self imposed twilight. Whatever discomfort he might have felt at the still sightlessness, it was welcomed compared to the snap that brought light back into the chamber, cutting through the veil of blissful ignorance that had pardoned any necessity to look upon what it had charitably concealed. However selfish it might have seemed, for the smallest instant Bronte thought of turning the lights off again,

“Sit up,”

It felt wrong to speak- especially ask anything of Oralie. Her ringlets- dull and stringy- pulled down in thick tangled over her face as she rigidly drug her back up the arm of the lovesteat she’d curled into, blankets falling limp onto the floor with a meek thud. Bronte simply knelt atop them, his fingers trailing the pockets of his clock for the smooth outline of a familiar metallic tin. Oralie made no sound of pain or acknowledgement as he pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a thickly wound bandage fastened over her shoulder. The white color had turned yellow, and as the kneeling figure peeled back each layer the room- what of it he could smell above the saturated, sugary smoke bathing his clothes- began to scent of balms and puss, a littering of welts and shrunken skin having festered beneath the dressings. The case in his hands came open with yet another sound Bronte found himself too far away to register, his fingers diving numbly into the salve inside,

“It���s my fault,”

Came a sound like the shifting of a fault line. Bronte traced his fingers over the rim of the burn,

“I couldn’t do anything but watch,”

Cracking like stained glass. Bronte smoothed his thumb across a patch of withered, pink flesh,

“H-he moved so quick,”

He had been avoiding her eyes, her face. And still he found himself caught in both. Her soft features hollowed. Her warm eyes gutted, occupied only by vacancy. Ghosts of the nots. Of the would never bes,

“And I- I jus-just-“

And her anguish came again with vengeance. Came with strength she did not have to spare for tears she did not have to shed. How dare she think she had wept enough. How dare she think she couldn’t hurt any longer. With a long, godless wail it came back to her in waves, thin fingers gripping his shoulders as she curled forward, her whole frame shaking with the labor of forcing from her throat a cry like cracking ice. What little tears she could manage soaked through his cloak,

“And I j-us did no-nothing! I di-didn’t do anything! I jus-just le-let him go! I le-let him d-“

She had been doomed to fail the sentence from the very start, her broken declarations falling to senseless sobs and howls of pain as she rocked her forehead into his shoulder, re-adjusting her grip at his arms every so often as if letting go might send her physically spiraling into whatever pit of grief pulled at her mind, down somewhere she couldn’t be followed,

“It’s not your fault,”

Again. It felt wrong to tell her anything with certainty, even the truth,

“It’s not your fault,”

It came stronger this time. Still a whisper in her ear, but less like a mist and more like a fog,

“It’s not your fault,”

That’s right. It wasn’t her fault. It was his,

“You couldn’t have known,”

But he had.

“There wasn’t a way you could’ve known,”

He’d known everything. That the healing was dangerous. That he should’ve gone with them.

“You did everything right...”

It was his fault that they hadn’t listened,

“I promise,”

That Kenric hadn’t listened,

“You were everything he needed you to be,”

Why should he have? He had been impatient. Stubborn. Cruel. /Weak/.

“You’ve been so strong,”

For the past three years his judgement had been ruled by fear. Fear of a little girl,

“And so brave,”

And hatred. Hatred of species who’s betrayal’d dawned the advent of millenniums lifetimes ago,

“This could never have been your fault,”

Kenric was dead,

“It will never be your fault,”

Because he hadn’t been stronger,

“No matter what you might think,”

Because he hadn’t been wiser,

“Kenric wouldn’t want you to think that,”

Because he hadn’t been kinder.

“Ever,”

Her wailing had only gotten softer, grip having loosened the slightest bit. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said had reached her or not. Had he even been speaking aloud to begin with? Had he even been loud enough for it to matter? He had to hope so. Their ilk was not meant to die, and thus not meant to grieve death. To mourn in earnest was not theirs. It never was. He knew too well how easily it would be for her to break beneath the weight of it. He could already feel himself webbing with cracks,

“I-I....”

She couldn’t protest beyond a dry heave, her shoulders raised for what felt like ever in a deep wrenching motion as Bronte clasped the fresh bandages over her newly dressed wounds. In the end, she merely fell into him, grabbing his shirt. His arms. His cloak. Anything she could to prove to herself she was still there with him. Every new hold she had on him felt like another clutch of guilt bearing at his knotted stomach. The morphine drip of shell shock had begun to fade and chip away. Clawed to pieces by the daggers of sharp mourning that broke his haze with every whimper Oralie managed into his shoulder. He knew even in the pathetic state he was in he couldn’t outrun his guilt forever. But he’d been hoping that he might for a bit longer. Selfish as it was,

“Oralie...”

He whispered after a moment. And was met with quiet. Quiet and trembling breaths. She’d become heavy against him, her grip gone slack, eyes finally falling to tearless rest. Good. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say anyways. The lights echoed out again with another dry snapping sound and Bronte stood from the thicket of blankets at his ankles, propping Oralie’s head on a pillow before draping her in covers again, still hoping- desperately and undeservedly- that she had believed him.

He paced the length between his and Oralie’s office with more grace this time, aware now of what the lull to fall and fade and become nothing but memory was in truth.

Not escape from sorrow or grief, but from consequence.

Consequence for the person he’d become. For that he’d done to others... There would be no reckoning with Councillor Kenric. He was dead. No apologies or tears- though he would certainly be giving both in abundance regardless- would change that.

But Oralie wasn’t dead.

The rest of the council wasn’t dead.

Sophie wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

And to that end there were still plenty of consequences to face.

[10boys]

MLQC : Smothering

♡ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

*aka , a boobie face dive !

Victor :

-Its only the softest of Victors that will act so shamelessly vulnerable to you

-You’re sitting on his lap with your arms around his neck as his hands caress the soft skin of your exposed thighs. You had a day off and decided to visit him on his lunch break at his office

-A few hours before on a quick phone call asking his permission to visit (he’s a busy guy) his usual sharp tounge was much diluted. He gave quick but vauge reassuring statement that he was just a bit stressed and had a lot on his plate for the week; risky decisions, rocky investments, many many under developed plans, all under the responsibility of himself.

-You know your smart and strong victor will get through it somehow, just like he always does, but thats not always an easy side to see when you’re experiencing it in first person. You just wanted to give him a moment to be vulnerable, relaxed, and securly cared for, something he’s constantly deprived of in his CEO role.

-As you pull his face closer and closer for cuddles , he relaxes his head and leans it into your shoulder. You stroke his hair leaving random kisses whenever you get the urge.

-There isnt much talking, just the two of you appreciateing each others warming presence

-The hand once on your thigh has risen to completely hold you in his arms, locking you in place.

-You take this as an invention to hug him tighter, elongating your body until his head finally falls into the perfect spot

-He lets out a small huff-like chuckle, letting you know he’s onto your shenanigans.

-“Feeling better already i see ?” You giggle into his hair while circling your finger around his ear, tracing patterns down his neck.

-“ ...m..dummy”

-His harsh words are very opposing to his actions. His grip around your waist becomes tighter as he burrows himself deeper into his personal pillow

-The comfort and warmth wraps his mind in pink hearts, allowing him to forget his pressing struggles and stress. Being near you is like a sip of wine to him , sensualizing and god damn intoxicating

-He’ll slowly move his face back and forth, in and out, up and down, until he finally realses a small groan of satisfaction

-Being a accomplice to his healing feels amazing, but the current undivided attention to you and your breast is indescribable

-He’ll stay like that for a while, just pushing and rubbing against you...

-He can’t allow himself to get too wired up at work though , this is only his lunch break after all

-The slight shift in his pants once he feels your nipples begin to harden against his face knocks him out of his trance

-“ahh I can’t do this now”

-He doesn’t move, just turns his head and leasurly lays on them for the remainder of his break

-At home though? Boyyyyyy

-Your low V-neck shirt would have been pulled down immediately to expose yourself to him, breast spilling out resembling a 4 course meal

-Victor prefers his hands to your breasts though, he loves to grope and toy with your nipples. He doesn’t have a good view to watch your reaction to him if hes face-deep

Lucien :

-HE is a looker

-We’re all very familiar with his intense gaze stairing problem

-You’re both sitting upright on opposite sides of the plush floor matt in his reading room, pillows densely outline the edges for support and comfort while you two peacefully enjoy each other’s company

-Well, you were

- Just as you’re turning the page of one of the novels you found laying near by, you see a pair of familiar black pupils from above the pages

-You lower the book to better see the man glaring absolute holes into you. The corners of his lips lift into seemingly innocent smile, the smile that softens his whole face, thins out his eyes, and hides his much more vulgar intentions.

-“Can i help you sir ?” You playfully spat trying to hide the gentle blush creeping onto your cheeks

-Your remark seems to have caught him off guard, but he quickly fixes his face. He lowers his book and gently places it to the side, his thin black-framed glasses following suit.

-“Actually...” his tall thin frame is crawling twords you, you feign resistance, lightly kicking your legs to keep him away. His large strong hands grasp them immediately, keeping them in place long enough for him to slip himself in.

-And now there he is, layed on top of you with his head under the arms thats still holding your book whata attention whore.

-His head rests on your lower stomach hiking up the him of your shirt. You know he’s up to something, but his current good behavior is enough to lower your suspensions for now. Him cuddling onto you while you read is actually very peaceful in itself. He looks comfortable and delicate, so you let him be.

-But that doesn’t last for long

-You can feel his warm breath on your stomach ascented by soft pecks and kisses, leaving trails just beginning to go above your belly button. His hands grab the rim of your shirt pulling it over his head, creating a personal space for just him and the beautiful view underneath

-“Lucien!” You giggle as his kisses gradually travel higher up, getting wetter and more passionate with each contact of skin

-“Hm? Something wrong? I prefer it under here..” and with that, he’s face planted.

-The distractions have your book strown to the side after you’ve long lost interest

-Lucien likes to play.

-He’ll dip his hands in periodically to help with his little experiments, pressing down your nipples to watch them pop back up.

-But mostly, he’ll hold your body from the outside as he helps himself to as much titty as he wants

-He loves the good old-fashion smother. His face absorbed by boob. Since you’re laying down, He’ll use his hands from the outside to push up all the extra boob fat

-Lucien, the actual kitten, will leave nips and bites on the supple flesh inbetween his face-dive sessions. He just absolutely adores the whole act, having someone he loves and admires so vulnerable and exposed to him and his desires makes his heart soft and dick hard

-Is he lightly thrusting his hips against the matt ? The world may never know

-Lucien does this often tho, maybe second in place to kiro

-From daily hugs to cuddle session, he can’t seem to keep to loose himself to his desires.

Gavin :

-Ooooh blushy boy

-You LOVE teasing him, the way he quickly turns his head to redirect his attention when he’s flustered is beyond satisfying, the butterflys you get knowing what you (unintentionally) do to him is :,)

-So the element of surprise is something he hates but you love

-He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, just chillin on his phone waiting for you to finish up whatever you were doing in the other room when BAM

-“Gavin ~ i missed u ~”

-You pull him into a smothering embrace, his face and your chest having an intement moment together

-You hold his head firmly aginst you while softly stroking his hair, letting some fingers down periodically to trace along his ear

-Gavin groans but shows absolutely no signs of resistance probably to hide his blushing face

-His face feels great agaisnt your chest, you begin to move them side to side to create a bit of friction for yourself

-You hear him release a low exhale at the action as you respond with a soft giggle

-Once Gavins done acting all tsundere he finally surrenders, pulling you closer by hugging at your waist, softly shaking his head in your breast

-Shit he may even grip a titty with one hand as he continues to press against the other

-Gavin lives to please you, so its not long after his attention will go to pinching at your nipples and nipping them with his teeth through your shirt

-When you look down to check on him, you meet the gaze of his blushing face and low amber eyes looking up at you and fuck

-Its time to get down to business :)

-Gavin loves to mark you, so sucking his ownership into one of your most delicate and personal places is his specialty

-He also loves to smother while he fucks you or you fuck him

-When he’s close he’ll bury himself in your chest and fuck you like the dirty dog he is ;)

-he nasty

-so shy...but so naSTy...

Kiro:

-Kiro absolutely loves it

-Kiro is just a boob guy in general?

-White tank top + your nipples pressing through = suckle session

-Like lucien, he loves to lay down on top of you and just... play

-Its rare you both have a day off at the same time so you usually spend it having a lazy day together, after all, working is exhausting

-You’re cuddled up on the couch watching your favorite feel-good show together, one of his favorite things to do with you since he gets to use his most favorite pillow

-Actually, Its just you watching the show.

-His arms are wrapped around your body pressing you as close to his face as he possibly can

-“mmmm miss chips is my favorite pillow~”

-“wahhh your boobs are so great”

-We can’t expect this vocalist to be shy about his feelings for you, he’ll spit little praises at you regularly as they come to his mind

-He’ll lay on each one, then in the crevis of your breast so he can push them together to completely surround himself. His hands will get a good grip as he paws and gropes at them

-Can he breath? The world may never know

-He’ll die a happy death tho

-Loves to wiggle his face back and forth and feel the jiggle

-He gives them so much attention you begin to think he might have a boob worshiping thing?? Not that you’d mind ;)

-His face and free boob massage feels absolutely great, his tinted cheeks and wet blue orbs stairing up at you is enough to make the anime steam blow through your head

- *thought bubble* fuck fuck fuck hes so cute...

Sooo if you can’t tell #1 im a cancer and #2 im about to start my period so my boobs are soooo sensitive right now, these scenarios are all i can think about ~ Thank u sm for reading !!! You can comment your thoughts or stance of the accuracy, Check out my other works under the mlqc tag :) -myk

[sailorshadzter]

Absolutely love your Jonsa prompts. Can I requst for one where Jon comes back with Dany to WF only to hear how Sansa has either take on a lover (this is fake obvs and is just a misunderstanding) and gets super jelly at any guy talking to her. Would be really great if they end up having hot sexy times at the end. Sorry but possessive Jon is my jam LOL. Thanks and keep up the lovely work.

this has been in my inbox for a while, so sorry for the wait anon!

i actually had started it last week, but my hand injury got in the way! i hope you enjoy it & that its worth the wait!

send me prompts

He hates that he's jealous, but he can't help it. He can't stop it.

It's been three days since his return from Dragonstone with Daenerys and while he should be focused on the important things (white walkers, the Night King, the impending war for the Iron Throne, are the first things that come to mind) and yet, all he can think about is the rumor he's been told.

Jon knows he has no right to be angry, to be upset, but he can't help it. He can't stop the anger that floods through him when he thinks of her on the arm of another man. He can't even begin to think about what it would mean if she found another man- he's been gone all these weeks, he supposes he can't blame her, and yet... He's jealous. He's angry. He wants her all to himself and with the damned dragon queen always on his arm, he's barely been able to share even a private moment with Sansa. And the one moment they did have together, they argued. Jon can't blame her for that, either, he knows what this looks like to the outside world.

Standing out on the battlements, Jon sighs, the air escaping him in a cloud of white. It's grown even colder in the few days since his return, the snows that fall blanket the frozen wasteland that has become the North. Down below comes the call of the men as they work tirelessly to prepare Winterfell for the battle that is to come any day. They dig trenches that they will fill with oil to set ablaze, to keep the walkers away from the castle walls. They train relentlessly in the field behind Winterfell, preparing for the battle they must soon face. Boys as young as twelve fight with swords in their small hands, while the girls gather in chambers to sew leather to the armor, to prepare healing herbs at the instruction of the maesters. They all have a part to play and at the moment, Jon is the only one avoiding his.

His attention is momentairly diverted by catching sight of that vivid red hair he loves so much. Sansa walks through the courtyard on the arm of a tall, young man he knows to be Harry Hardyng from the Vale. They make a handsome couple, or so everyone says, and a tremor of jealousy flows through him when he sees Sansa lean in and laugh at something Harry is saying. Jon has heard through the servants that Harrold Hardyng came to Winterfell just after his own departure for Dragonstone. He also knows that Sansa had briefly met the man in the Vale, before her marriage to Ramsay Bolton.

He watches as they stroll the rest of the way through the courtyard and up the steps and out of sight back inside Winterfell. He stares for several long moments at where she had once stood until finally he pries himself from the railing and heads down the walkway and down the stairs until he too stands in the courtyard, among the men where he belongs.

[ x x x ]

The knock on his door comes as a surprise.

It's late, so late that the rest of the palace surely must sleep, though Jon remains awake in his chambers in front of the hearth. Ghost raises his head from his paws, a short bark of recognition escaping him at the sound of the knock. He knows at once who will be there at his door and when he crosses the room to open the door, his heart is beating wildly in his chest. "Sansa." He greets at the sight of her there in his doorway, still fully dressed in her black gown, though her hair tumbles down her back, free from its usual braids.

He steps back, allowing her inside, and at once Ghost is beside her, begging for pets and attention. She sinks low enough to wrap her arms around his shaggy neck and Jon can't help but to smile at the sight. He would give anything in the world to keep this moment forever, to freeze time and just watch her with Ghost, a smile on her rosy lips. "You've been avoiding me." She speaks suddenly, rising up from the floor as she turns to pin him with her sapphire gaze. He chokes, sputtering over denial, shaking his head. "You have been." She confirms, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her face; Jon's fingers twitch, he longs to run them through the silken strands.

"You've been busy," he quips back, unable to stop himself. The familiar sensation of jealousy twists in his stomach as she takes a step closer to him and he wonders if she's just come from seeing him.

She laughs, a cold, hardened sound that doesn't match her. "Yes, so busy with running the kingdom you've given away." Yes, there's that anger of hers again. He knows he deserves it. He knows she owes him a lot more than her angry words. "Do you avoid me because you love her?" He's heard this question before- or something that had meant the same thing. He recalls the last private meeting they'd had, when she had asked him if he'd bent the knee for the North or for love. He hadn't had the chance to answer her, they had been interrupted, but he longs to tell her the truth. He longs to tell her the words he's felt in his heart since those days so long ago at Castle Black. Wrong or not, Jon knows what he feels for her goes beyond the love of a brother. "Or does she tell you to? Does your queen command you to stray from your family?" She can't stop the last words that fall from her lips, her anger and jealousy spilling over in one final question.

"You seem quite preoccupied with your own affairs," Jon snaps, unable to stop himself, though he regrets the words once they've fallen from his lips. Sansa blinks, her mouth falling open only to close again, surprise written all over her face. "Harrold Hardyng seems to be the center of your attention these days." She doesn't speak, but her eyes narrow in anger, her mouth a thin line as she takes a single step closer to where he stands. They are mere inches apart now.

"Are you jealous?" She asks, her voice a whisper of smoke, her eyes suddenly smoldering in a way he's never seen before. "Does it bother you to see me upon the arm of another man?" She can't help but to smirk when Jon tightens his jaw, a fist clenching into a fist at his side, both obvious signs of the truth. She supposes she should be happier, knowing Jon was indeed jealous, giving her a little bit more proof that Jon was smarter than he let on. That him giving up the North had been for more than just a pretty Targaryen queen. "Do you imagine what they whisper of us?" Sansa knows the rumors of her and Harry, though she laughs about them, knowing how far from truth they are. There's no man she thinks of besides the one that stands in front of her. She's leaning in, closer now, her lips hovering just a hairsbreadth over his. "In your rooms, late at night... Do you imagine me with him?" He imagines a whole lot more than that.

Jon sucks in a breath, hyper aware of the tightness of his breeches, of the fire seeping into his blood. Does she even know what she does to him? His hands are in her hair now, unable to stop himself from touching her, feeling her. She's warm, warmer than any fire, than any fur cloak. "I imagine you with me," he rasps, his words bringing a chuckle from her lips. "I know it's wrong, Sansa but I..." She silences him with a kiss.

It's a long kiss, a warm kiss, a passionate one. One of his hands stays tangled in her long red locks while the other traces the outline of her body until it reaches her hip, snaking around to press into the small of her back. "I imagine me with you, too," she whispers when she breaks the kiss, somewhat breathless as she smiles. "But I thought..."

I thought you loved her... I thought we could never be.

The unspoken words settle between them and Jon tugs her in close. "There's no one but you." He speaks honestly, truthfully, saying the words he knew he should have said before. Jon pulls back so he might look her in the face, the hand that was once tangled in her hair now cupping her cheek. For a long moment, there is silence, but there are no words that need to be said right now. Jon leans in to capture her mouth with his, a soft kiss that weakens her knees and warms her cheeks.

When he breaks the kiss, she speaks, soft words that echo in his spinning mind. "I don't want to imagine anymore, Jon." Those are the only words he's needed to hear. He's kissing her again, a deeper kiss, and her response is to grab a fistful of his shirt, tugging him closer. Her tongue meets with his in the most delicious of ways and Jon trails his other hand along her body, relishing in her soft curves and warm skin he can feel between the layers of her clothes. She lets out the most arousing whimper when he pulls back, though this time its to take her by the hand and lead her towards his bed.

Undressing her is a slow process- mostly for her sake, but partly for his own. He wants to savor every moment with her as much as he wants her to feel comfortable in anything that they do. She turns her back to him, giving him access to the laces of her gown, which he slowly unlaces while she glances at him over a shoulder. When she turns back around, the gown slips over her shoulders, revealing to him the expanse of her milky white shoulders. Inch by inch, she lets the gown slide from her body until its a puddle of cloth at her feet. Standing there in just her chemise, she blushes beneath his gaze, uncertain and shy in a moment such as this, which was just as enticing to him as her previous confidence had been.

Once again he takes her by the hand and draws her down onto the bed, following after her only once he's shed his shirt to the floor, where it joins her discarded gown. She lays against his pillow, red hair a fan beneath her head, blue eyes staring up at him as she smiles. Jon knows he loves her so beyond anything in this world, he knows he would do anything for her. Anything. Leaning over her, he captures her mouth and hopes, prays, wishes, that every unspoken thing between them is understood with that single kiss. Drawing back several moments later, her blue eyes are dark and damp, telling him that his message had reached her.

This time when he kisses her, he doesn't intend to stop.

[jasonamada07-blog]

Jason Amada Looking For Massage Pointers? Take A Look Here

Jason Amada Proficient tips provider. Start working towards a healthier, active set of goals and you will find that life becomes more enjoyable. A great reward as your reach these milestones is the classical massage. Spending a couple of hours on the massage chair each month will remind you why you what you are fighting for in the first place.

If you have been feeling particularly stressed out, it just might be time to have a relaxing massage. Massages are not only helpful to relax you mentally but physically as well. It helps to promote circulation and loosens up your muscles. Let go of some of your stress with a massage.

Jason Amada Skilled tips provider. Remember that you will experience new things when going in for a massage. If you have never received a massage, then you will likely find some massage techniques strange. Try not to let this stop you from having a good massage. Let go and allow the massage therapist do what they do best.

The bear hug technique is useful if you carry tension in your shoulders. You can fold your arms in an x across your chest. Put each hand on the opposing shoulder and rub firmly. You can give yourself an easy and effective massage anytime using this simple method.

Request that the lights be dimmed during your massage. You want your massage to be relaxing and enjoyable, and a darker room will help to provide that type of atmosphere. You don't have to make the room all the way dark, but it needs to be lit as if there were candles lighting the room.

You should do a belly massage following every meal. Using one or both palms, start rubbing your abdominal area using clockwise circular motions. The clockwise motion is the same direction that your food digests naturally in your intestines. This can help with digestion and prevent gas and intestinal discomfort.

If you're receiving a massage, you shouldn't hesitate to talk to your massage therapist. Make your therapist aware of areas that need special attention. If she is not providing enough intensity to get out those deep knots, you will never get the relief you are seeking without saying something.

Increase the speed that you massage as you get deeper into it. It's a good idea to start out at a slower speed so that the recipient has time to get used to the massage and help relax them. This will also increase the friction as you give the massage.

Jason Amada Proficient tips provider. Doing eye massages can relieve tired and sore eyes. The main benefit of this massage is using warmth to relieve pain and strain. Begin this massage by rubbing your hands together vigorously. Do this until your hands start to feel warm. When hands are warm, cover each eye with a palm until the warmth goes away.

If giving someone a massage using oil, offer them a shower after it. In addition to washing off the oil, it can also relax the body further. This is vital for the skin too, as it keeps pores from clogging and blemishes from developing.

Tip your masseuse. The pay is low for such a job, so tips are a must. Similar to a restaurant, a 15% tip will suffice. Or if you feel that you got a great massage, you could always tip more. You'll be grateful when you come back and the therapist remembers the tip. Since it will guarantee you get her or his best.

When you are giving a massage, one of the key points to focus on is constant movement. You should never stop abruptly, as this will ruin the flow of the massage. You can slow down and speed up while you rub your hands up and down the back and legs, but never come to a complete stop.

When you are stumped for what to give as a Christmas or birthday present, consider buying a coupon for a healthy massage! Everybody loves the soothing and relaxing benefits of a deep tissue massage and who couldn't use the extra pampering? Especially for the person who has everything, the gift of massage is perfect!

If your shoulders are bothering you, you should try hugging yourself and massaging the muscles you can reach while hugging yourself. This exercise will also help you stretch your entire back. You should try this technique if you have to sit on a chair during most of your work day.

Remember to breathe deeply when receiving a massage. You want to bring oxygen to every part of your body to enhance the healing effects of the massaging action. Breathe in and out of your nose to create a meditative type state, and make sure to breathe deep into your abdomen.

Ask your therapist about referral programs. Perhaps you can secure a nice discount if you send your friends to the therapist. A nearly-free massage is perfect when your budget is tight and you need some stress-reduction to make it through the weekend.

If you are unsure of which massage therapist to see in your area, ask your family members and coworkers. Referrals are crucial. While they don't ensure that you will get a great therapist, they do increase your odds tremendously. After you get a few names, do your own research to see which person you think best fits your needs.

Jason Amada Professional tips provider. Go online for help in selecting a massage therapist. If that doesn't work, talk to your primary care physician. You can also talk to a nurse or a chiropractor in the area whose work you respect. Professional recommendations are almost as good (if not better) than personal recommendations, particularly if you trust the individual.

The patient isn't made of glass, so don't be afraid to close your fists or use your elbows to thump along the body's outline. This small exertion of force at the beginning of a massage helps waken the nerves and loosen the tired muscles. Apply a gentle amount of force and follow along the shoulders, ribcage, and lower neck for maximum efficiency.

Jason Amada Proficient tips provider. A massage isn't purely for pleasure. There are many health-related benefits that come from spending time under the trained hands of a professional masseuse. Even if you aren't working towards a set of goals or achievements, you should still plan some time with your local massage parlor and give your back a break from the stress of everyday life.

[falloutdelmarvaau]

Fallout: Delmarva (Chapter 1)

Mission: A S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Assignment

I’m woken up by the sound of my alarm clock playing “Country Roads” again. It’s always been one of my favorite songs. Whenever I hear it, I always get a little lost in the descriptions of pre-war Potomac. Hearing about those mountains and rivers that haven’t been contaminated or blasted to pieces makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Sadly, that world is long gone, and what lived on is an irradiated mess that eats the warm and fuzzy for breakfast. With that thought in my head, I heave a disgruntled sigh and smack my alarm clock to shut it up, ready to begin my day.

With a grumble, I stand up and smooth out the wrinkles in my Vault-Tec jumpsuit. Like the rest of the residents of Vault 26, I never take my jumpsuit off except to shower. Today is not a shower day for me – the Overseer’s schedule would let me know if it was – so instead I simply proceed to the mirror to begin getting ready for my day. My appearance hasn’t changed for a few years now, thanks in large part to the Overseer’s rigorous standards for Vault 26’s residents. My brown hair is short, cropped off right where my head meets my neck. My brown eyes are a bit dull, as they always are this early in the morning, but I’m sure they’ll be full of life soon enough, drawing compliments that I never ask for from the Vault’s men. My cheekbones are a bit low, but that just gives me a strong chin. My forehead is high, proud and true, like the sloping side of a great dome. This is somewhat offset by my nose, which is small. Finally, my lips are full and smooth, which tends to prompt even more rude compliments from the men.

It takes me but a moment to do all that I have to do in the bathroom. I’m not due to join my colleagues for breakfast for another 15 minutes or so, which is nice; I love having time to kill. Sadly, I don’t have a lot of entertainment options in my small, cramped Vault room. So, for the umpteenth time, I grab my S.P.E.C.I.A.L. pamphlet and begin to read it.

This pamphlet is the same one that I was given in my childhood. It outlines all of the things that make citizens of Vault 26 special. We are strong. We are perceptive. We have great endurance. We are charismatic. We are intelligent. We are agile. We have good luck. And, with proper training, we can take all of these inherent traits and become even better at them. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

I’ve never been an especially strong person; I can’t really lift more than a spoon most days. I’ve been told I’m oblivious most of the time, which means that my perception could be better. And I’m about as agile as a super-mutant on alcohol. But I’ve been told that I’m charming, and I know that I’m smart. This, combined with some good luck, has allowed me to become a computer programmer.

I am drawn from my reading by an alert on my Pip-Boy. It’s a handy little device: an arm-mounted computer that can do basically everything. It can monitor my life signs, keep track of my schedule, store maps, help me focus my gunfire while I’m doing mandatory training, play music, dispense medicine, keep track of the items I have with me, and much, much more. Every resident of Vault 26 gets one on their 10th birthday to help them with their lives. I mostly use mine to check my schedule, listen to music, and store my favorite programming shortcuts.

I look at my Pip-Boy’s screen and see that I got a message from the Overseer. “That’s odd,”I think. “He never calls me. Why would he? I’m just a regular working-class programmer.”Curious beyond measure, I open the message.

[Vault Resident Angela Miller.] the message reads. [Please report to the Overseer’s office for a special assignment. You will be having breakfast with the Overseer as he explains the situation to you.] My eyes practically jump out of my head. A special assignment? Breakfast with the Overseer? From what I’ve heard, not even the higher-ranking members of the Vault have breakfast with the Overseer. What could he possibly have in mind? Whatever it is, I can’t wait to find out.

* * *

It takes me a minute, but my Pip-Boy’s map eventually leads me to the Overseer’s office. I press the button beside the door, causing it to play a few notes of the old 1950s song Civilization. It’s one of the Overseer’s favorites for reasons unclear to me. A voice behind the door says, “Enter,” and the door automatically opens, two separate panels retreatinto either side of the door frame,allowing me unrestricted access to the office. Most Vault 26 membersnever get to see this place. I’m so excited!

The Overseer’s office is dark, lit only by the glow of a few security monitors that highlight different parts of the Vault. In front of those monitors is a circular desk, covered with various tools, buttons, and the occasional knick-knack. In the middle of the circle is a swivel chair with its back facing me. I can see only the hair of the man sitting in it; his locks are dark and well-groomed in a pompadour style.

“Welcome, Miss Miller,” the Overseer says. His chair turns, allowing me to see the rest of him. He is clad in a jumpsuit just like the rest of us, but he wears it with more dignity and authority. His eyes seem to glow in the dark; I can’t really tell what color they are. His skin looks a little darker than that of most people I know, perfectly complimenting his hair. His nose is sharp and angular, and his mouth is set in a confident smirk. “Glad you could make it.”

“The pleasure it all mine, Mr. Overseer,” I assure him meekly. This is so amazing!

The Overseer chuckles a little before gesturing to a plate on his desk.The sight of bacon, eggs, and potatoesgets my mouth watering. “This is an old-fashioned breakfast from before the Great War. I had it rehydrated just for you. Go on: eat.” I waste no timeinobeying, picking up and bitinginto a bacon strip. As I pop the morsel into my mouth and start to chew it, the Overseer asks, “Tell me, Miss Miller, what do you think of life in the Vault?”

I swallow my food and reply, “Oh, it’s great, Mr. Overseer,” before taking another bite.

“Good,” the Overseer replies, his voice smooth and soothing. “I’m glad to hear that.” He turns his back to me, watching the screens. “It would seem that your neighbors think so, too. Look at them, Miss Miller. Look how they work together to keep life in Vault 26 running smoothly. Isn’t it sheer perfection?” I turn my attention to the screens, watching the people as they go about their lives. I see a few people whosedays started earlier than mine; waste disposers, cooks, and others who specialize inthe health of those who live here. I also see others who have not started their shifts yet. Most of them have wandered down to the mess hall, where they sit in groups at crowded tables, talking and laughing. A few people are still in their rooms, reading old books or listening to music. One couple is having sex.

“Yes, yes, seems quite harmonious, doesn’t it?” the Overseer commentsas I continue to watch and eat. “It almost seems perfect. But here at Vault 26, we always strive to do better. We are a cut above the rest, and we have to make sure it stays that way. That is why I have called you here.

“You see, Miss Miller, there have been rumors going around of a particularly strong group of individuals somewhere in the Delmarva Commonwealth. If we could befriend these people, perhaps we could persuade them to move into the Vault with us. With their protection, we will never be attacked by ghouls or super-mutants ever again.”

I’m a little confused. “That sounds very nice, Mr. Overseer,” I say, swallowing some egg. “But what do you need me for?”

“You are one of the most charming people I’ve ever met,” the Overseer explained. “That’s why I’m sending you out into the wasteland to make contact with these people.”

“What?” I blurt out. This makes no sense. Why would I want to venture out into the wasteland? That’s where monsters of all kinds are lying in wait to ambush me and have me for dinner! “Sir, with all do respect, I can’t go out there!” I explain. “I’ve never been outside the Vault in my life, and I’m not anxious to get eaten by anything out there.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the Overseer purrs. “You’re a resourceful girl; the monsters won’t stand a chance against you. And, once you manage to befriend all of these strong people and bring them back to the Vault, I’ll be prepared to give you a very special promotion.”

My ears prick up. “Special promotion?”

“How would you like to be my own personal computer programmer? See, most computer code breaks down from time totime, and that includes the coding on these monitors.” He gestures to the monitors behind him. “I’ll accept only the best of the best to help maintain my machines. Would you be willing to do that?”

My eyes light up. Never in my life did I think I would have an opportunity like this. Being the Overseer’s personal computer programmer? That sounds amazing! I’d have the respect of everyone in the Vault, including the Overseer himself. “Boy, would I!” I squeal, unable to contain myself.

“Good,” the Overseer replies. “Then, after you finish breakfast, I suggest you pack some supplies and head out to the wasteland. Those people won’t befriend themselves.”

I cannot finish my breakfast fast enough.

* * *

It doesn’t take me very long to pack, mostly because I don’t have a lot of stuff. Some pre-packaged food and a few bottles of water go into my Vault-Tec bag, the contents of which are automatically logged into my Pip-Boy. A couple of stimpaks soon join them, which will come in handy if I happen to have a run-in with a ghoul and need to heal myself. Just as I’m packed up and about to leave,I see my ScienceBobblehead out of the corner of my eye. It’s a funny little trinket; it bears the likeness of the Vault-Tec’s blond-haired, black-eyed mascot, Vault Boy. Vault Boy’s science incarnation wears serious glasses alongside his bright “everything’s gonna be okay” smile. He holds a beaker that is painted luminescent green. I smile; I’ve always loved that bobblehead. I pack it out of nostalgia.

With my bag fully packed, I brace myself for what is to come and start walking. It is only a short trip from my room to the Vault’s entrance, but it feels like I walk for miles and miles. Finally, I stand before the large, gear-shaped blast door, trying to calm my breathing. Beyond this door are horrors that most residents of the Vault have never seen before, and I will have to face them down if I want to make the Overseer happy.

I steel my nerves and turn my attention to the access panel beside the door. The mechanism to open the door was enabled decades ago, so doing so is a simple matter of entering an “open” command into the panel. The process of the door actually opening, however, is nerve-wracking as hell. I watch a mechanical arm descend from the ceiling slowly and loudly, like it’s trying on purpose to trigger an anxiety attack. It latches on to the center of the door with an ear-splitting “CLACK!” that makes me jump out of my skin.

As the mechanical arm starts to roll the door aside, I receive an alert on my Pip-Boy. It’s another message from the Overseer. [There’s one more thing I forgot to mention.] he informs me. [While I was analyzing the rumors that I heard about this group, the four names that I heard the most were Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Steven. When you find one of those people, message me back.]

Armed with this new information, I reply [Understood. Heading out now.]

His response is quick: [Good luck, Miss Miller.]

[Thank you.] And then, finally, the Vault door opens. I shield my eyes from the blinding light and brace myself for my trip to the outside world.

[alloveroliver]

Lancelot ✶ MC |Emilia| “Each Others.”

Smut: Vampire!Lancelot Kingsley

★ Vampire AU | Ko-Fi Event ★

Prompt: "I want to please you."

WC: 948

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

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The silence of the bedroom stretched around them. Their afternoon lunch together turned to a couples nap after they had their fill. Emilia slipped her fingers through Lancelot’s golden hair and smiled.

“You’re always saying ‘You’re mine, Alice.’ But, I want you to know that you are also mine.” Her eyes focused on him in the dim room, his steady breathing setting a calming rhythm.

“We can be each other’s.” Lancelot smiled under her tender touch. She brushed the hair off his forehead to clear a spot for a gentle kiss.

The sound of her lips meeting his cheeks over and over again filled the room. She kissed him, each peck leaving a claim behind over that spot. Her lips meet his, and Lancelot kissed back before her mouth moved to the other side of his face.

Emilia peppered his whole face in kisses, then went down to his sharp jawline.

“Every place my lips touch is mine.” She murmured, planting her lips all over the collum of his neck.

Lancelot didn’t fight back or try to gain dominance. He allowed her to shower him in love for once; in truth, he enjoyed the attention from her. Her fingers began pulling the top button of his shirt off.

Where there was once fabric, her lips replace. She left many more kisses down his chest while she unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. ‘I love you’s’ snuck out between each peck she bestowed upon him.

His chest filled with warmth as she opened his shirt up. His solid chest in view, she continued kissing him all over. When he noticed a pattern, Lancelot’s ocean eyes shot open. Peering down at her gentle kisses and soft touches, he watched her kiss each and every scar marring his chest.

He had the sudden urge to push her away, but instead, he clenched his fists at his side and let the love he felt bubble over. Heat licked his skin as slight embarrassment prickled the back of his mind, but the pure love she radiated kept his bashful tendencies at bay.

“All mine,” She whispered on to his ribs.

The scares set a reminder to the name he once tried so hard to live up to. A type of monster that was heartless and wounded. She never believed that was the real him, and instead loved him unconditionally despite his reputation.

Emilia’s fingers teased the buckled of his pants, bringing Lancelot’s rational thoughts to the forefront of his mind. He listened quietly to the sound of her heart rate picking up. Lancelot pushed up on his elbows and played with a piece of her hair.

“Wait,” He breathed. Emilia looked up at him through thick lashes. “I want to please you.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He flipped the script, using his inhuman strength to toss her to her back with ease.

With her hair spilled around her like a halo, her neck was in turn exposed to him entirely. He saw the old marks of prior feedings and raced the healed pierced flesh with his fingertip. In an attempt to keep his word, he focused his energy on holding back his needy fangs.

He decided to turn her to her stomach to hide the bite marks from himself so that he wouldn’t be tempted. Gently, he placed his hand on her stomach and turned her over. Emilia gripped the bed sheets and settled her cheek into the plush comforter.

Lancelot pulled her hips upward and pushed her knees apart to keep her steady. “Just stay still like this. Relax.”

Her hair spilled over her head and landed on the bed. Lancelot’s large hands ran up her legs, massaging her thighs with his thumbs.

The tips of his fingers teased the hem of her skirt before pulling it up over her back, revealing her center. Her thin panties framed her ass perfectly, and Lancelot took in a sharp breath. He teased the hem along with her thighs, then ran his finger up and down her slit, over the veil.

Emilia gasped at his intimate touch. Her hips jerked as his nimble fingers teased the lace trim oh so close to her sweet spot. She pushed her lips together and closed her eyes, focusing all her sensations on his divine touch.

“Let me know if you don’t like something.” His calm voice met her ears.

“I don’t think anything you do could be unpleasurable.”

Her words fueled is ego. Lancelot tugged the panties down her thighs, exposing her most intimate places to him.

His breathing grew ragged, bringing his hand back up to trace the outline of her sex so delicately. Emilia pushed her blushing face into the covers, groaning softly at his touch. Lancelot swallowed over his parched tongue, tempted to feed on her sweet blood, but kept his focus on pleasuring her solely.

He explored her body amply, watching her skin burn up under his gaze. Pushing her folds apart with his palms, Lancelot brought his lips down to her pussy. He kissed her intimately, moving here and there to make sure he covered her entire sex with love.  

Once his warm tongue focused on her clit, she moaned his name unabashedly. Lancelot held Emilia still with his hands on her hips while he pleasured her. His tongue tasting her aroused essence as it dripped to her swollen nub.

He smiled at the cute sounds she made. Lancelot freely gave the same love that she tried to bestow back to her tenfold. She didn’t complain, but with how headstrong she was he could tell he was in for a long evening of power changes between them. Once he was done giving her his love, she would, in kind, give it back to him.

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Thank you, @obsessedotomeplayer for the kofi commission!

Status of Ko-fi event at the top of my blog!