#he fucking put that glove in his mouth and got on all fours like a beast

[commoninfected]

I watched To Infinity with @mothboy-the-moth.

[rubysunnday]

blood on your lies

summary: four times Y/N got injured and the one time kaz did

"How many fingers?"

"I didn't hit my eyes."

"How many, Y/N?"

Y/N sighed. She squinted slightly. "Four?"

Kaz narrowed his eyes. "Three."

Y/N pursed her lips but didn't move. Her vision kept swimming in and out of focus. Sometimes Kaz and his concern disguised as displeasure was clear and then a moment later, he was just a black blob.

"I'm -"

"If the next word out your mouth is 'fine', I will deduct your wages for this job and hit you with my cane," Kaz warned, raising his eyebrows an inch.

Y/N wanted to argue. She hated appearing weak in front of Kaz. He was the one person she constantly strived to impress and being injured, again, whilst on a job with him was not what she wanted.

She tried to stand up, putting her hands against the wall behind her, intent on using it to push her up.

"No."

A gloved hand pushed down on her shoulder, forcing her to sit back down on the cobble stones. Y/N relented, her head already swimming. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the bile and trying to breath through the nausea building in her throat.

"You can't go to sleep."

Y/N sighed. She opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the light glowing just behind Kaz.

Kaz's eyes narrowed a fraction and he readjusted his weight, moving to block the light with his body.

"I can't sit on the cobbles all night, Kaz," Y/N muttered, bringing a hand to her head and shielding her eyes.

"Jesper will be along soon," Kaz replied, glancing down at his shoes, inspecting them one at a time. "Then when we get back, you're going to rest -"

" - but Kaz -"

" - and not go on any jobs for a few days," Kaz finished, ignoring her. He raised his gaze from his shoes, focusing on her. "You are allowed to be injured. It doesn't make you any less of a Crow."

Y/N, surprised by Kaz's sudden honesty, nodded, silent. Her eyes began to burn and she harshly wiped them, breathing out shakily.

"Ah, Jesper!" Kaz said, turning to face up the street. "Y/N has a concussion."

It was early afternoon which meant the Crow Club was almost silent. Kaz was sat downstairs on the main floor, his papers and books strewn across a booth table. He didn't need to write down the numbers, but he did, just in case anything happened.

It was only because Kaz was sat downstairs, and not in his office, that he heard the almighty bang, followed by a thud, that came from the basement.

He paused, pen hovering over the parchment. There was a groan of pain and whoever was downstairs muttered, "fucking cupboard".

"Y/N?" Kaz called, setting his pen down. "Did you get into a fight with a cupboard?"

Y/N emerged at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. "I walked into a cupboard," she corrected, her voice muffled as she pressed her hand to her her nostrils. Her fingers came away, tinged with red, and she swore.

"Sit down before you bleed on my floor," Kaz said, easing himself out of his seat. "Tilt your head forward, not backwards."

Y/N followed his advice, sitting down in a chair and tilting her head forward. She pinched her nose, just above her nostrils, and held her hand under her nose, catching the blood that dripped down.

A white handkerchief was thrusted into her vision. Y/N blindly took it, pressing it to her nose.

"Don't forget to breathe," Kaz said, his voice coming from somewhere in front of her.

Y/N raised her eyes and she could just see Kaz's shoes, standing in front of her. "I cannot believe I walked into a cupboard."

"You didn't see it coming?"

Y/N lifted her head, looking at Kaz. "Did you just make a joke?"

Kaz's shoulders moved in what looked like a shrug. "I'm actually hilarious, do you not know that, Y/N?"

Y/N huffed out a laugh, lowering her head one again. "My deepest apologies, sir."

Kaz's lips curled up into a smile.

Kaz woke with a start, his mind racing. A quick look around told him that his was no longer inside the building they'd entered. Instead he were outside, lying on the street.

As Kaz sat up, he became aware of how damp the back of his jacket had become, the sensation sending shivers throughout his body as memories came flooding back.

The wet jacket clinging to his back as he stumbled ashore. How it dragged him down, taunting him to let go and sink back under. Jordie.

Jordie suddenly morphed into Y/N and Kaz sat up, looking around the street for any sign of her. He put a hand on the ground, bracing himself to stand up, when he felt a hand brush his. Or he brushed the hand, Kaz wasn't sure.

The contact sent him back to the cobbles but, as Kaz turned his head, he realised it was just Y/N.

She looked serenely peaceful, lying there on the ground, her arms outstretched slightly. Kaz watched her for a moment, waiting to see the comforting sight of her chest rising and falling. It took a moment for his eyes to focus but when they did, he could see her breathing.

Some part of him relaxed.

Kaz pushed himself up onto his knees and crawled to Y/N's side. Swallowing back the panic and the urge to run away, he leant over her, one hand braced on the cobbles on the other side of Y/N, whilst the over reached up.

His hand hovered over her face for a moment. It shook. Kaz breathed in deeply. He put his hand against her cheek, his thumb moving up and down for just a second.

Kaz bought his hand back and moved it down to her shoulder, shaking her as hard as he dared. "Y/N. Y/N, come on, wake up."

Y/N's head slowly moved to the side as Kaz shook her, the orange light from the street lamp above casting shadows across her face. Kaz shook her again, hard this time. He was feeling water rising around him.

"Y/N!" He yelled and, before he could even think, he slapped her.

Y/N inhaled sharply and groaned, sitting up as quickly as she could, hands blindly reaching out to grip whoever had slapped her. Kaz let her grip his hand, let her realise it was him, and then pushed her back.

"What the fuck, Brekker!" Y/N exclaimed, falling back onto her elbows. "What was that for!"

"We have no time to sleep," Kaz said, wincing slightly as he awkwardly clambered to his feet. He was trying not to show his earlier panic and opting for despair and irritation seemed best.

Y/N groaned again, lying back on the floor, closing her eyes. "I have no idea what happened."

"We triggered something in that room," Kaz replied, looking around for his cane. "Knocked us both out. Then we were dragged and dumped out here."

"How long for?"

"Half an hour," Kaz said, still looking. "Ish."

"Ish? Kaz Brekker just said ish, I must be dreaming," Y/N muttered.

Kaz picked his cane up off the floor - it'd been next to his foot the entire time - and turned back to Y/N. Silently, he held out a gloved hand to her.

Y/N, still disorientated and confused, reached up and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her to her feet, without even realising what had just happened.

"What now?"

"We break back in," Kaz said, already making his way down the street. "Come on!"

The boats in the harbour bobbed about as a wave rolled in and sloshed up against the stone walls. They were mid mission - at the most important stage.

And Y/N couldn't breathe.

She'd been pushed down a staircase earlier on in the day, when the mission had just begun. Whilst Inej had taught her how to fall, it hadn't saved her ribs from hitting the edge of the stone steps.

Once the initial pain had faded, Y/N had managed to keep going. She rejoined the group, got assigned a new task by Kaz, and was on her way to do it when she'd breathed in just a little too much.

The pain had flared up until she couldn't stand. Y/N had perched herself on the harbour wall and had sat there since, trying to get control of her pain.

"I don't recall sending you here."

Y/N didn't even have the energy to acknowledge Kaz. She lifted her head, noted him standing in front of her, and dropped it again.

Pain was coursing through her body and Y/N could feel the tears burning her eyes. Tears of frustration and of pain.

"You okay?"

Y/N forced herself to straighten up, to look at Kaz. She breathed in, felt something twinge, and her shoulders shook as she felt the tears spill over.

"Try and breathe through it," Kaz said quietly, his cane hitting the floor once as he moved closer, leaning against the harbour wall beside Y/N. "I get its hard, but try."

Y/N tried to, forcing herself to breathe beyond the pain. Her nails dug into the harbour wall, the stones digging into her palm.

"When I first broke my leg, the pain nearly consumed me," Kaz said, his words almost lost to the wind. "It's hard, when it gets bad, to think beyond it."

"I." Y/N paused. "I tried to cope." She squeezed her eyes shut. "But it got too bad... and then I couldn't breathe."

Kaz's blazer sleeve brushed against her arm. "Nina is near by."

"No, she's busy."

Kaz dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small metal tin. He flipped the lid open and picked two white circular tablets out. "Here."

Y/N held her hand out and Kaz dropped them into her hand. "What's this?"

"Drugs," Kaz replied, smirking. "The good kind."

Y/N tried her best not to laugh, but her smile grew. "Thanks."

She put them in her mouth, grimacing slightly at the awful taste in her mouth as they began to dissolve. Kaz held out a flask and Y/N took it, swallowing the tablets with what she'd expected to be alcohol but was actually water.

"When it gets bad and I have to keep going," Kaz said quietly, taking the flask back, "I take those. It doesn't get rid of the pain but it helps."

Y/N turned her head, her eyes settling on his. "Thank you."

Kaz just nodded.

Blood was spilling out onto her hands as she pressed the bandage to Kaz's shoulder, trying to staunch the blood. Kaz was sat on the stone tomb, his head lolling to the side, hitting Y/N's arm every so often.

"You still with me?" Y/N asked, pushing her hands harder against his shoulder, the blood dripping down her arms.

"Ahuh," Kaz muttered, his eyes still shut.

Y/N knew he was battling with himself and his mind and didn't take his grumpiness and silence personally.

Her hands were trembling as she pulled the bandage away from his shoulder for a moment, checking to see if the blood had stopped or not.

"How did you get shot?" Y/N asked softly, pressing the bandage back to his shoulder.

Kaz stilled. Y/N squeezed his shoulder, the blood still running, and he breathed in sharply, coming back.

"He was aiming for you," Kaz said quietly, his voice hoarse. "At your... head."

Y/N froze. She took her hands from Kaz's shoulder, happy that the bleeding had stopped. The cloth dropped to the tomb. Y/N stepped back, standing in front of Kaz, her knees brushing his.

"Is that why you pushed me?"

Kaz nodded stiffly. "Didn't expect to get shot, however."

"Don't think anyone does."

"Unless they see the gun pointed at them," Kaz quipped.

Y/N smiled. Her leg brushed against Kaz's and she was surprised when he didn't flinch. He raised his head, gazing up at her. Y/N, for once, didn't fight the urge. She reached out and gently combed her bloody fingers through his hair. Kaz leant forward, resting his head against her stomach.

"I can stop," Y/N said softly.

Kaz nodded against her. "I know."

She let her fingers run down to his neck, never straying further than where his collar sat.

"We're okay, Kaz," Y/N whispered, leaning her head down to rest on top of his. "We're okay."

[cowboydisaster]

For the Christmas countdown!

Dutch sends reader and Arthur to find the perfect Christmas tree for camp. Reader says she knows a place near Colter. But they get lost, and what’s that? One bed? Needing to share body warmth? What ever could go wrong 😈😈 as smutty as you find comfortable to write behe

* ˚ ✦ Ceasefire * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 2.8k a/n: One bed trope is elite. love this prompt. Arthur is a little toxic in this one ngl. probably med. honor. I aint gonna lie gang, this is fucking FILTH. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, dubcon

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: FOUR days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur kicks the old door in, nearly crumbling the rotten thing before sticking his lantern into the worn down cabin. No words are exchanged as he ushers you though the threshold, slamming the door behind you both. 

The storm outside is brutal, battering the sides of the cabin, sounding like bullets pelting the walls. Hail and snow beat down on the roof, carried by whipping, whistling winds. Even in your wool coat, your limbs feel like ice, your fingers and toes numb.

The cabin you’re entering is old and creaky. The wind seems to whisper through the walls eerily, letting cold air soak through the cracks and wrap around you. You shiver, walking through the main room, pushing open a squealing door to reveal one small bedroom with one tiny bed. You nod, figuring as much. It’s the only door in the house, so you avert your attention back towards Arthur, knelt before the fireplace. He's digging through the wood by the mantle, grunting and sighing angrily to himself.  A tense silence continues between you and Arthur– it hangs in the air like static electricity, and you’re just waiting for it to strike.

“Arthur, I'm sorry.” You whisper, arms pulling your coat tighter around yourself. 

“Kinda late for apologizin’, considerin’ our circumstances, dont’cha think?” Arthur growls, finding a few pieces of dry wood and tossing them into the wood keeper in the fireplace. 

“I knew where I was goin.” You argue coldly, anger rising up the back of your neck, making the hair stand. Arthur shakes his head, avoiding your eye contact as he lights a kindle. 

“Oh, you did, did you? Then you mind tellin’ me why in the hell we’re stranded in the middle of god-knows-where, then? N’ on Christmas Eve? Dutch sent us to get a goddamn tree and thanks to you, we ain't even got one.” Arthur growls, voice finally rising, even though he’s been trying to keep his composure since you admitted you were lost. 

“I– Well you got me all turned around when you took us to the trapper!” You yell, pointing your finger at him angrily, “I had us on the way and then you just had to take us off on some wild fuckin’ goose chase. What even was so important that we had to take an hour-long detour anyway?! How are you gonna blame me when you had to drag me across the state just to what?! Sell a fuckin’ pelt? Make some more money for old Dutch?”

“No!” Arthur roars, standing up from his position on the floor. His anger flares up at your ignorance, “I was savin’ up money to buy your christmas gift—to buy you that goddamn saddle you wanted!!” Arthur’s voice reaches a shockingly loud timbre, and your ears ring. You step back, shocked and mortified by your assumption. Words fail you, and you stutter over them, tears already forming in your eyes at what you’ve done. 

“Arthur…” You say, tears forming in your eyes as he brushes past you, towards the door, “Arthur, you can’t go out in that storm.” You protest, but he’s already putting his gloves back on, placing his hat on his head. 

“Arthur, I'm sorry. Please don’t go out in the storm.” You plead as he pushes the door open. 

“I need some damn air.” He hisses, slamming the door back shut in your face. 

Your hand covers your mouth, silencing sobs as you watch him leave from the window. You hear Sugar’s cries as Arthur leads Jasper out of the small stable, and you watch as the gray horse carries Arthur out the main drag, his coat blending in with the downpour of snow and ice.

— — —

You roll onto your side, shivering on the single cot. There’s no blankets, so you do your best to keep warm by curling in on yourself and blowing warm air into your hands, down your coat sleeves. Cold tears slip down your face, your worry growing tenfold with every minute that Arthur doesn’t return. If he’s not back within the hour, you’ll go out into the storm to find him.

You glance at the pocket watch that is clutched between your numb fingers, signaling that he’s been gone for an hour and a half. Your heart seizes in your chest. The wind causes the windows to shake and clamber, and every once in a while, you perk up– hoping it’s Arthur coming back to you. But it never is.

A miserable whimper leaves your lips, and you sit up, cross legged on the bed to steal another glance at your watch. The fireplace gives off just enough light to see, and you push yourself up from the bed to start pulling your boots on. You’ll be damned before you let something happen to Arthur out there, not when it's your fault he’s out there in the first place.

Before you can get your boot on, the door swings open loudly. Arthur steps in, shoving the door shut behind him, stripping his big blue coat off and abandoning it on the floor. You let out a breath of relief, tossing your boots aside to run to him. 

“Baby- I’m so sorry for hollerin’ at you. I shouldn’t have left ya here.” Arthur rambles, feeling like a fucking fool. You care none, too relieved to see him here. He holds his arm open, catching you just as you run into them, tears of relief flooding your face. 

“Oh, I was so worried, Arthur.” You exhale, crumbling against him.. Lucky for you, he’s always been good at piecing you back together. 

“Christ, darlin’, you’re freezin’.” Arthur points out, readjusting and scooping you up into his arms. You lie your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, as he carries you back into the bedroom. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Your voice cracks. 

“Don’t matter, now. Now, I just gotta take care of you.” Arthur whispers, and you sigh with relief. He carries you into the bedroom, tenderly placing you down on the bed. 

“Lets get your clothes off. They’re wet, gonna get you sick.” Arthur says, worry deep in his eyes as he begins to undress you. He tenderly peels away each layer of clothing, hanging them over the fireplace mantle to dry. Once you’re bared before him, shivering, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm and dry, and it smells like oak and his favorite brand of expensive cigarettes. You inhale the scent deeply.

“Be warmer if I take mine off, too.” He whispers matter of factly, pulling off his own layers, sliding next to you in the bed. 

Arthur winces as you cling to him on the bed. Your limbs are like ice against his skin, and he pulls your back to his chest. His arm wraps around your middle, keeping you anchored to him tightly. Your body fits against Arthur’s so perfectly. Like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

A few moments pass by, with Arthur running his fingers over your hip, rubbing his hand down your thigh, waiting for the skin to warm up. 

“Any better?” He asks eventually, voice hoarse, waiting for the answer he knows won’t come. You nod your head, but your teeth chatter. You're shaking like a leaf against him. 

“Ya trust me?” Arthur asks. Of course, you nod your head. You trust him with your life, “I’ll warm you up.” He whispers. 

You shiver, this time not from the temperature as Arthur slides the jacket down over your shoulder blade. He runs his lips across your shoulder, pressing kisses in a line. His lips distract you from his wandering hand, fingertips trailing down your stomach. 

You breathe shakily in anticipation as his fingers reach your throbbing cunt. His skin is hot where yours is cold, adding an extra layer of sensitivity. You flinch when his thick finger bumps your sensitive clit. 

“Too much?” Arthur whispers between kisses, his hand drawing away from your skin. You nod. 

“We got all the time in the world. Jus’ gotta warm you up proper.” Arthur explains. He repositions himself between your legs, pushing your knees up by your ears, spreading you wide for himself. 

“Can’t wait to taste you.” Arthur grumbles, pushing your thighs back even more. You grip the sheets in anticipation as he licks the length of your cunt, coating his tongue in your juices, flicking your sensitive bud with his tongue. 

Your stomach seizes, and you whimper. 

“Yeah, how’s that? Talk to me, darlin’.” Arthur instructs, his nose rubbing against your clit, his tongue sinking into your heat. Arthur’s beard is tickling your thighs, and his fingertips are teasing along your entrance. 

“S’good, Arthur.” You exhale loudly. Your body is already warming up. Your skin is flush with want as he teases you. Arthur’s tongue circles back up to your clitoris, flicking over the bud in languid swipes. You taste so fucking good, he could keep you spread like this forever and never get enough. You would have no qualms with that, happily holding his head between your thighs for the rest of eternity. 

He wants nothing more than to keep you spread open like this. To taste you, kiss you. To hear you whimpering and calling his name. He wants to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, until you’re sleepy and content and sore. He wants to press his cock into you over and over again, to roll his hips into you, stretch you out, fill you up. He wants to watch his cum leak out of you, just to fuck it back inside. 

Arthur’s cock twitches, and he groans, slipping two of his fingers into your aching entrance. Feeling how slick they become when he pulls them out, when he pushes them back in, curling them to hit that spot that makes you sing. 

“Arthur–” You moan, back arching off the bed. He wraps his free hand over your stomach, pushing you back down to the mattress, “So good. I– Oh, so fuckin’ good, Arthur.”

He smirks, tongue still flicking over your pink, swollen clit. Sucking it between his lips, grazing it with his teeth. It’s more than you can take. 

His fingers curl up, squelching as they rock your own juices back into you, brushing up against your fleshy g-spot, teasing it. 

“I-” You gasp, “I’m close, Arthur. I- I can’t it’s too much! Too-” You moan, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheek. 

And like the pull of a silk ribbon, he's pulling you undone. You're cumming on his fingers, squeezing them within your tight walls. Your clit is seizing against his tongue as you cry out his name, hands digging into his hair, pushing him further against you. You rock your hips against his face, thighs squeezing his ears. Juices gush around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm. Euphoria wracks your brain, picking you up and carrying you to another plane of existence. 

When you come down from it, you’re putty in his arms. Limp. 

“Easy, baby. Y’okay?” Arthur asks, hand easing up your waist, purposefully avoiding the spots where you’ll be the most sensitive right now. You nod, hands reaching up to his jaw, gripping him and pulling him down towards you. 

“Wanna kiss you.” You manage to murmur, soft as silk before his lips are meeting yours. 

You can taste yourself dripping from his tongue. Can feel the sticky wetness on his beard as you pull him impossibly closer. His tongue slips into your mouth, infiltrating your senses with the sweet taste of your arousal. 

Goosebumps break out across your stomach as Arthur’s knuckles trail up your waist, his thumb tickling a small circle around your stiff, sensitive nipple. It sends pleasure in shockwaves down through you, and you arch your back, pushing your stomach up against his chest. The hair on his chest teases your flushed skin, adding to the pleasure of it all. 

“So goddamn beautiful.” Arthur mumbles, pulling away just to get the words out before he’s against your lips again, devouring you. 

“Think you can take me now, darlin?” Arthur whispers, lips moving to your jaw, pressing loud kisses along the sharp line. You hesitate. He’s so big. It takes a lot of preparation.

He senses your worry, and then he’s there, reassuring you, praising you, making you feel so good. 

“You can take me.” A kiss to your neck, “You do so good, so perfect. You can take it. My good girl.” Arthur mumbles against your skin, hand slipping between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His fingers slip back into your cunt, first two, then three. You whimper, hands digging into Arthur’s shoulders. 

“See? Takin’ my fingers as ya are. My good girl, aint’cha?”

You nod your head, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “Yes, yes.” You whisper, breathing shakily. 

Arthur positions himself over you, slipping his fingers away, and you gasp at the feeling of his thick tip sliding up and down your lower lips. He traces his swollen, rosy tip across your overstimulated clitoris, and your nails dig into his shoulders, a pulse of pleasure rippling up your spine, sending waves down through your bones. 

You pay no mind to the weather, to the temperature. It bothers you none now. 

His thick, pulsing cock nudges against your entrance, and instinctually you tense, taking in a sharp breath.

“Shh, shh, easy, sweetheart. Relax. You can take it.” Arthur coos against your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's like being swaddled in a heap of comfort, of safety. You know he’d never lie to you, never hurt you. 

“Thata girl.” Arthur hums, grunting deeply as he thrusts just the tip into you. You squeeze him tightly, your walls gripping him, pulling him into you. He could do this all day, stretch you open, stuff his cock into your pretty little cunt, press kisses to your lips and your neck and your nose.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it.” He grunts, pushing himself into you even more. Your back arches, stomach filled with pressure and legs spread open wide, “That’s perfect, so good fr’me.” He moans. 

“God, Arthur–” You cry out, a whimpering mess when he starts to rock. He’s splitting you in two, filling you so full, you can barely take him all. His length knocks against your g-spot, surpassing it even and stretching to your cervix. 

“Feel-” Arthur groans, “Good?” 

You tuck your nose against his chest, nodding, “Fuck, so good, Arthur. You’re so big.” 

The boost in his ego ramps up his stamina, and he rocks into you harder, sending the headboard crashing against the wall loudly with every thrust. The rhythm is barely noticeable compared to the sound of the hail beating against the roof. 

You’re suddenly glad to be stuck out here, if this is the repercussion. You crave his hands on you, his lips against yours. You want him to bend you over the table, take you against the wall, on the floor. You’re content to have him on every surface of this cabin, just to stay wrapped up in this bliss for a little while longer. 

“Easy does it, good girl.” Arthur grunts, face covered in a sheen of sweat, dripping down from a strand of his hair, falling onto your breasts. He fills you with every thrust, his cock carving out the shape of your walls, stretching them to wrap around him perfectly. The signature, wet sound of sex fills the room, drowning out even the storm, yet pale compared to the sound of your mixed moans and breathing.

“M’ close-” Arthur grunts, pace growing quick, cock twitching against your walls. You’re getting close, and he’s there too, grunting and squeezing, gripping your soft flesh. He curses, thrusting hard and deep, hips slapping loudly against yours. 

It pushes you over the cliff edge with no abandon, and again, you’re free falling, only kept here by the physical tether that is Arthur holding you. Your walls clench and squeeze, constricting around Arthur’s length. He groans beautifully, the sound cathartic to your ears, sending more blood rushing to your gluttonous core.

“Oh– Arthur!” You scream, gasping for air just to release it all back out in a slew of curses and moans. Your back arches high enough off the bed that your breasts slot against Arthur’s chest. Your body shakes, like a star on the verge of explosion, receiving no mercy as Arthur continues to thrust into you. He’s losing his control, caught off guard by the pulsing and fluttering of your second orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight, and god– the moans you’re letting out are driving him wild—

And then, his warm, thick cum is flooding you, filling you up as he stutters and shakes above you, “F-Fucck, sweetheart. Takin’ me– so damn well.” Arthur groans, hips pumping into you twice more, arms shaking from strain. He pumps the last of his spend into you, groan dying down into a deep rumble in his chest.

He stills, taking deep breaths along with you, eyes slipping shut. His forehead falls against yours, and he presses a sweet, long kiss to your lips. It sends butterflies to your stomach, even after all this. He pulls back from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours once again.

“That was–” You begin, catching your breath, “damn.”

Arthur chuckles, “We’ll sleep the rest of the night n’ check out the weather in the mornin’. I don't reckon either of us will be cold.”

You huff a laugh, wincing slightly as Arthur pulls out of you. You grimace as his cum leaks back out. 

In a few short moments, Arthur has you clean of him. He lies beside you, head resting on your lower stomach as you brush your fingers through his hair. 

“Next time we fight,  just skip the runnin’ off, and take me to bed, alright?” You whisper, breaking the calm silence. Arthur exhales sharply. 

“Yeah, we’ll do that.” He chuckles, gripping your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“You think Dutch will be pissed about the tree?” You ask, referencing the Christmas tree that you’d failed to bring back to camp. 

“He surely will be.” Arthur says, “But, I say-” He presses a kiss to your hip, hand wrapping around the inside of your thigh, “to hell with his christmas traditions,” another kiss, “I like this one better.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[anonymous-dentist]

Day Four- Vampires

-

Cellbit breaks into the graveyard just after midnight, but it takes until three in the morning for his shovel to hit the coffin he’s looking for.

This particular subject was buried so recently that their headstone hasn’t even been put in place yet, so Cellbit doesn’t know who he’s about to be dealing with. Hopefully, they’re physically fit. (Though, really, he’d just be happy if they have all their body parts after the past few weeks’ failures.)

Cellbit lets out a breath, looks up at the cloudless sky, chucks his shovel out of the grave, and gets to work pulling the coffin above ground. It’s heavier than expected, but that’s a good thing; it just means the body’s intact enough to take apart properly.

Once the coffin’s flat on the pressed, dead grass above, Cellbit takes a seat on it and wipes the sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. It spreads dirt everywhere, but it’s not like anybody’s around to judge him.

“Okay,” he murmurs, standing and grabbing a surgical mask out of his backpack. He pulls the mask on, pinching it at the nose to keep it from sliding down. He doesn’t bother with gloves this time because he’s got a feeling he’ll be taking the whole body home this time.

“Okay,” he repeats. He looks down at the coffin, lets out an excited breath, shakes the jitters out of his body.

And then he opens the coffin, expecting a corpse but instead finding an abnormally-preserved man with one eye open and a slight bloodstain around his mouth.

Strange.

The man looks alive, is the thing, so Cellbit naturally reaches for his camera to document this absolute freak of a corpse.

The second his back is turned, there’s a wooden creak, and then there’s an audible yawn.

“Buenas noches,” he hears from behind- a deep, theatric voice so unnatural that it makes Cellbit’s bones shake. “Soy Dracula.”

Cellbit spins around and instinctively clicks the button on his camera, taking a photo and activating the flash and sending the man in the coffin screeching out of the coffin and onto the ground in a blinded heap.

The man writhes in pain with his hands clutched over his eyes.

Cellbit carefully puts his camera down. He replaces it with the hunting knife he brings with him for occasions just like this one, and he approaches the man slowly. No witnesses…

But then the man suddenly flips onto his back and pulls out his own knife out of his sleeve, and Cellbit freezes.

In his panic, Cellbit defaults to English: “What are you doing?”

The man answers in kind: “What the fuck are you doing, eh?”

“Biology,” Cellbit simply replies, because it’s true. That’s what he is doing despite what everybody around him thinks.

He levels his knife at the man’s throat. “Why were you buried?”

“Because I needed a nap. Why are you digging up graves? That’s weird, man.”

“And getting buried alive isn’t?”

The man shrugs. “Who says I’m alive.”

He drops his knife, then, and sits up, not flinching whatsoever as Cellbit leans in and digs the point of his knife into his throat. He just smiles and looks Cellbit over appraisingly.

“What?” Cellbit breathes. There’s no way…

“I said, ‘Who says I’m alive’. I’m a vampire. You know..”

The man hooks his pointer fingers in front of his mouth like fangs.

At that, Cellbit drops both his knife and his self onto the ground in disbelief. There’s no fucking way.

The man- the vampire- drops his hands and leans back on them. He yawns.

“Sooo, what are you supposed to be?” he asks. “Graverobber? I haven’t run into one of you guys for forever. I thought the government got rid of you all.”

Cellbit sniffs annoyedly. “I am not a graverobber.”

He’s absolutely sick of being called one, both by his advisor and by his own sister- his literal partners in crime.

“I,” he explains, not for the first time this year, “am a scientist.”

The vampire nods. “Right. A scientist robbing graves, yes.”

“It’s for science!”

“Suuuure.”

“It is!”

Cellbit reaches back and around the side of the coffin. He pulls his backpack closer, and then he pulls his notebook out of it, flipping it open to the first page, which has his proposed thesis neatly printed on it in expensive red ink.

He shows this to the vampire, who reads it aloud: “‘The potential to renew life where death has devoted the body to corruption’.”

He looks up at Cellbit with a frown. “So you’re a mad scientist.”

Cellbit scowls and pulls his notebook away, holding it close to his chest. “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you are.” The vampire blinks, and then his eyes widen in faint panic. “Wait, were you going to experiment on me?”

“Well, yes, but I can’t anymore. You’re not dead.”

“I mean. I am.”

“Not in the way I would need you to be.”

“Huh.”

Silence, awkward.

Cellbit starts going through his notes looking for the next possible grave, sighing when he sees it’s at a cemetery an hour’s drive away.

“Do you, like… need help?” the vampire asks.

“Hm?”

“Getting another body. There’s gotta be another one around here, right?”

Cellbit looks up from his notes with a confused frown. “What?”

The vampire shrugs, alarmingly casual for someone suggesting stealing a corpse. (Then again, he is a vampire. They aren’t exactly known for their morals.)

“I mean, it’s fair, right?” he asks. “I screwed up your thing. I can get you another body, easy.”

Cellbit blinks a few times, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that there’s a goddamn vampire in front of him, let alone a vampire offering to help him dig up and steal a body.

What the fuck.

Sensing his confusion, the vampire says, “Hey, don’t worry, man. I don’t bite.”

He grins, open-mouthed, and it’s now that Cellbit can see his fangs- long, pointed little things easily capable of ripping a man’s throat out and eating it like it’s licorice.

What the fuck.

But, also? What else to research in the (self-invented) field of scientific necromancy than a literal vampire? This guy had to be turned somehow, and now he’s presumably-immortal and perpetually undead. In other words: alive.

So Cellbit nods, and he stands, offering the vampire a hand up.

“I can’t get the next body until tomorrow,” he warns. “I hope you won’t mind the wait.”

The vampire pulls himself up with Cellbit’s help; he’s wearing a ring, Cellbit notices, on his left hand. Ring finger. Huh.

“Nah, don’t worry,” the vampire says. He winks, squeezes Cellbit’s hand once, and then he lets go. “I’m great at waiting.”

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping: Chapter 15 Lucky Strike

Series Masterlist | Chapter 15 A03 Link

Word Count: 4.4k

Previously on As the Mule Falls: The neighbors met at David and Ty’s house for a Fourth of July party. Despite the guys having a lot of anxiety about it, they ended up having a pretty fun time thanks to all of their new friends. We ticked a few boxes off of our bingo card and laughed as David finally let the intrusive thoughts out. We also got a shy, nervous Benny and some meddling from Will and our favorite FBI agent.

In this Episode: We’re heavy on the Benny in this episode with little sprinkles of Frankie and a flashback of sorts for Santiago. Also, I’m trying to get to fight night so there are some jumps in time. In case you missed it, here is the moodboard for this chapter.

Chapter Warnings: A shoe goes flying at Santiago’s head. There’s some fluff and rom-com vibes and we finish with a little bit of angst with Frankie as he reaches one year of sobriety.

*Cue the theme music and roll opening credits*

Four weeks to fight night

“Good, Ben,” Frankie panted backing away and leaning against the ropes of the boxing ring, “we can take a break.” 

“C’mon old man, don’t slow down on me now!” Benny flashed a lopsided grin as he worked the boxing gloves off of his hands. 

“It’s not that I’m slowing down…you just seem more…focused.” He eyed Benny with a smirk.

It’s true. Benny had an extra pep in his step today. He got to the gym well before Frankie, claiming he needed to “burn off some energy.” When Frankie arrived, he found Benny in the corner of the gym jumping rope, his shirt discarded nearby on the floor. During today’s sparring session, Benny was on a different level. Every punch connected and he anticipated everything Frankie threw at him, causing Frankie to wince at a few well-placed jabs to the ribs. With the fight only weeks away, Benny was well in ring shape and nearing his peak, which made Frankie breathe a sigh of relief.

Tossing the boxing gloves to the side, Benny reached down to grab his baseball cap, eager to get the hair out of his eyes. “Just feeling good…yesterday was a lot better of a day than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sure it was,” Frankie crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching as Benny grabbed a towel. “Any word on your date?” 

“Thinkin’ Saturday…since we were planning on taking Sunday off anyway, figured I could be out late and it wouldn’t be a problem…” Benny’s eyes didn’t quite meet Frankie’s.

“Ben, we can take whatever day you want off,” Frankie chuckled before furrowing his brow at the sight of Benny chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just…I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking this seriously and getting distracted or anything…so I was just waiting I guess until a day I already was free.”

“Hermano, do I think Vanessa is a distraction? Yes, but in the best possible way,” he clasped a hand to Benny’s shoulder. “The past week you’ve been a nervous wreck, timid, and not yourself in here. But today? Today man…you’ll whoop anyone’s ass who steps up to you,” he laughed, seeing the corners of Benny’s mouth curl up. “So she’s distracting you from the bullshit in your head and I think that’s great. She seems like a really sweet girl, Ben.”

“Yeah…I…I really like her Fish,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna fuck this up, you know?”

Frankie tilted his head up and laughed, “Trust me, I get it.”

“Oh shit, sorry man. Ah…how’re things with you?”

With a deep breath through his nose, Frankie took off his hat and ran his fingers through his curls, before putting it back on again. “Well, I was actually wanting to see if I could take next weekend off. Had a thought to surprise her and fly up there.”

“Hey isn’t next week….” Benny trailed off seeing Frankie gaze down to his feet. Making the realization, a huge smile came across Benny’s face, “I think that’s a perfect way to celebrate Fish! I’m proud of you man.”

“So, you have a good night last night? You left the party pretty early with Katie,” Santiago’s eyebrows waggled at Will as they loaded up a wheelbarrow with soil. They’d come up with an agreement with Frankie and Benny to work on Melissa’s backyard, executing their design and giving Benny the chance to concentrate on training. 

“We’re just friends Pope…and yes we had a good night, did you?” Will looked over as he set down the shovel.

“Just friends? Wow, you know I kinda saw that comin’ not gonna lie,” he shrugged.

“Fuck off, don’t you have a shoe to dodge or something?” Will snapped as he walked into Melissa’s backyard.

“I guess I deserved that,” Santiago muttered to himself, realizing that Frankie must have spilled to Will that Amaryllis was back in the picture.

To say Santiago and Amaryllis had a dramatic situationship would be putting it mildly. They grew up together in New York as family friends. Neither made a move, although they heavily flirted with each other by the time they got to high school. Santiago had to endure her shitty boyfriends who never treated her well and she had to see him run through every girl in their grade and the ones above it too. She’d finally mustered enough courage to tell him she had feelings for him but it ended up being the same night he told her he was enlisting. 

They exchanged letters for a few years, but those eventually stopped. He lost track of her, hearing that she’d gone off to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting or modeling. She landed a couple of small roles here and there. A falling out with a boyfriend caused her to move back to the East Coast, where she reconnected with a couple of Santiago’s cousins whom she was close to growing up. They shared that he was back in town and invited her out. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but her heart raced a bit at the thought of seeing him again.

When she walked into the bar, his eyes immediately met hers and he felt like he’d been run over by a train. She was confident, commanding the attention of everyone as she walked over to him. He longed for some comfort and she did too. The two found themselves locked away in her apartment for the next few days getting reacquainted.

Still, they were both too stubborn and headstrong to admit their feelings. What came next was a tumultuous and dramatic series of back and forths, neither one wanting to make that next step, that commitment. Instead, they found it easier to get underneath someone else rather than face their feelings head-on. They did try to have more, but it failed miserably each time with one of them retreating like a scared dog, unsure who to trust. 

The pull to Colombia made for a clean break, at least that’s what Santiago thought. When he came back, he went home for a short while to see his mother and couldn’t help but pass by Amaryllis’ apartment. He sat on the stoop for what felt like hours, debating whether to knock on the door or just send a text. A sudden slam of the door made the decision for him.

“Hijo de puta, how fucking dare you show up here. After three fucking years?” She yelled as he got up and backed away from her. He tried to say something but he couldn’t get any sound out. Next thing he knew he was dodging a well-thrown sandal to the head as she continued to call him every name in the book both in English and Spanish. It was the last time he saw her. 

But a couple of weeks ago, he noticed a Facebook message. She made the decision to move down to Florida and wanted to see if he was still there. He debated opening up the message or just deleting it but opted to read it and then go to her profile. She seemed happy, really happy. And noticeably single. So one thing led to another and she made the drive over to Tampa so they could meet for coffee and talk. He knew the guys had their opinions so he opted to keep a low profile about it for as long as he could.

“This is good practice Vandy, I get to do the whole dad spiel about being home before midnight and all of tha- ow!” Marcus ducked as Victoria threw a dish rag at him. 

“Leave her alone, mi amor. Come back whenever you want Nessa, or don’t,” Victoria winked as her sister rolled her eyes. “So, what did you guys decide on?”

“I suggested Splitsville. Figured we could bowl and maybe eat, I dunno seemed like a good choice. He was excited about it.”

“C’mon admit it, you also picked it because it’s ‘Insta-worthy’!” Marcus chuckled as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dad,” Vanessa groaned. “Please don’t ever say Insta-worthy again, Buck.”

“Ooo, are you starting up your foodie blog again?” Victoria rubbed her hands together. “You always find the best places.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus brought a hand to his chest, “she’s not the only foodie in this family.”

“Of course, mi amor,” she kissed Marcus on the cheek as he plated the kid’s dinner. “Between the two of you, we always have the coolest spots to check out.”

“Are you sure this looks ok Vic? Not too casual?” Vanessa did a little twirl as Mariella clapped in her high chair. 

Figuring out what to wear was always a chore for Vanessa, especially in recent years when she didn’t really care to shop for clothes…or look in the mirror for that matter. She’d changed outfits about 15 times, completely ransacking her closet. The final winner was a pair of dark wash jeans and a well-worn Tampa Bay Rays t-shirt, topped with a flannel. Victoria thought it was a bit unnecessary to wear a flannel in the middle of summer, but knew it was a security blanket for her sister. 

“I think you look great, Vandy,” Marcus winked with a soft smile. 

Will sat on the couch playing a video game, trying to hide his smile as Benny paced around the living room. “You excited?”

Benny stopped and looked over as he finished buttoning up his sleeve. “Yeah. J called a little bit ago…thought he was going to give me shit…” Benny trailed off rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re excited to see you out there again Bean,” Will paused his game, putting the controller down to walk over and assess his brother’s outfit. “You look like….me…why’re wearing this?” Will grabbed at the front of Benny’s button-down shirt. 

“I dunno…I wanted to look nice,” Benny pouted looking down at his outfit. 

“Wear what makes you comfortable Ben. C’mon,” with a reassuring pat on his brother’s shoulder, he led him back to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Benny went through his hangers. 

Without saying a word, Benny changed out of his long-sleeve button-down shirt and slipped on a fresh white crewneck t-shirt and black jean jacket. He switched out his boots, put on some sneakers, and grabbed a baseball cap. 

“There’s my Bean,” Will smiled. “Feeling better?” Benny nodded as the corners of his mouth turned up. 

“Tia Nessa? I wanna see Bunny!” Mariella waddled over to the couch where Vanessa sat. 

“Si mi vida, Bunny is coming over soon,” she moved over so Mariella could work her way onto the couch next to her. It was so cute how quickly her little niece had taken to Benny. The past couple of days she’d managed to get home from picking up the kids around the same time Benny was finishing up his run. Mariella would squeal when she saw him and he’d do something silly to make her laugh.

Nico sat quietly coloring with Victoria as they all heard the doorbell ring. Vanessa went to stand up but Marcus intercepted since he was already up. Opening the door, he found Benny shifting from foot to foot with his hands in his pockets. 

“Hey there Benny, good to see you, come on in,” he held the door open for Benny to pass through.

“Bunny!!” Mariella quickly got herself off the couch and rushed over to Benny, nearly tripping over her unsteady legs in the process.

“Hey baby girl,” Benny smiled, whisking the little girl off of her feet as she giggled. 

She started to babble and Benny looked around the room in the hopes someone could translate toddler. 

“She asked if you’re taking Vanessa ‘bye bye’ in the car,” Victoria’s heart melted seeing Mariella bond so quickly with Benny.

“Ohh ah yeah, I guess. Yeah, we’re going to go ‘bye bye’ in the car. But I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Benny winked.

“You, ah, ready to go?” Vanessa got up, grabbing her crossbody from the counter.

Seeing her about took his breath away. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and he suddenly felt less self-conscious about his casual attire. 

“Yeah. I…um…can I put you down so I can take your um…Tia…out?” Benny raised his eyebrows waiting for a response. With an enthusiastic nod, he set Mariella down and she ran to Marcus and hugged his leg. “Ah, after you,” Benny put his arm out, gesturing for Vanessa to pass, while wishing the Pikes a good night. He could feel Marcus’ eyes on him so he tried his best to not let his eyes wander as she walked by him.

“Don’t keep her out too late now,” Marcus winked as Vanessa groaned, grabbing Benny’s hand to quickly lead him out of the house before Marcus had another chance to embarrass her. 

“Sorry about him,” Vanessa quickly dropped Benny’s hand once he closed the front door. “Buck looks for any chance to give me shit.” She furrowed her brows as Benny followed her to the passenger side of his car.

“It’s alright, hell I’ve done worse to Will,” he chuckled, opening the door for her. 

She quickly got in and sat a bit dumbfounded as he sprinted around to his side of the car. It’s not that she hadn’t ever had a man open a door for her, her sister was married to Marcus “Mr. Romance” Pike after all, but it still gave her butterflies and made her even more excited for the night to come.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Frankie said as he sprawled out on his bed, propping the phone against a pillow.

“Ooo mysterious. Tell me more Morales,” Jo quipped. She was nestled underneath a fluffy blanket on her couch for what had become her favorite part of the day - her nightly FaceTime chat with Frankie.

“So, what would you say if I ah,” he ruffled his hair and took a deep breath, “what if I came up there next weekend? I know you’re busy with work and stuff, but I’ll be out of your hair by Monday. You can drop me off at the airport before you go to work, or I’ll take an Uber.” He waited for what felt like an eternity for her to respond, wondering if his Wi-Fi crapped out because she was stuck looking at him. “What do you say mi cielo? I, I don’t have to, if you already have plans-”

“No! I mean yes….I mean, no I don’t already have plans and yes I would love for you to come up here. Are you sure? Doing this so last minute?” She couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched across her face. Being away from Frankie for the past week was torture and the idea of getting to spend a couple of days with him, being wrapped in his arms and hearing his laugh ring in her ears made her downright giddy.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it since you left, so it’s not as last-minute as you think babe,” he winked. 

“Well, I am clearing my entire schedule. We can play tourist for a day and then maybe hang out…be lazy, order some takeout, cuddle, ooo and we can watch movies in person rather than one of us being on a delay,” her eyes twinkled as she started to race through various ideas.

Frankie chuckled, he loved it when she got excited and started to ramble. “Whatever we do, I’ll be happy because I’ll be with you.”

“I’m so excited! This next week is going to go by even slower now that I have something to look forward to,” she beamed.

“Are you serious?” Vanessa shook her head, dumbfounded that Benny casually threw a perfect game. Trick shot after trick shot, it didn’t matter, he always got a strike.

Benny didn’t even watch his last shot. He had his eyes on Vanessa as he put his back to the lane and released the ball behind him. Hearing the pins knocked down, he sauntered back over, flashing a boyish grin.

“Ooo yay, the food is here,” he rubbed his hands together, looking at the spread. All of his training had made him build up quite the appetite these days, so he wasn’t shy about ordering his fair share.

“Wait wait!” Vanessa put her hands up to stop him from taking a mozzarella stick. “Sorry, I um…one sec,” She bit her bottom lip, pulling out her phone and then rearranging the plates. Benny looked on confused but also amused, admiring how her brows furrowed as she concentrated on getting everything to look just right.

Pleased with her setup, she started snapping photos. “Sorry…I am one of those people, annoying I know, but I figured tonight was a good excuse to start up my account again,” she didn’t look up from her phone as she took a couple of videos too. “Phone eats first,” she winked before motioning that the coast was clear.

“What kind of account you have?”

“Oh, it’s just on Instagram…I started it a few years back…it’s a fun way to explore the food scene and…sorry this is all boring I’ll stop,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a few nachos.

“No, no, it’s not boring, I like it. I like food, clearly,” he motioned to the four plates in front of him and she snorted. “Lemme see, I wanna follow.” He motioned toward her phone with his chin.

She reluctantly handed him the phone and watched as he scrolled her account. After a few moments, she saw his forehead scrunch.

“What? I know, I don’t always have the best lighting, I’ve been meaning to buy myself a little light thing and  - “

“No, hey,” he put his hand on her forearm, which sent an electric pulse up her body. She suddenly felt like it was way too warm for her flannel. “No this is great, these photos are beautiful…I just was wondering where you were.”

“What?”

“I don’t see you in any of these photos. Maybe your hands every once in a while, but how come you’re not in these?” He shook the phone as he turned it back to her.

“Oh…I…um…I dunno I guess I’d rather have the focus be on the food,” she looked down, playing with the straw of her water. The truth of the matter was she was tired of dealing with the random trolls who would end up making a comment about her body or how much she went out to eat. She deleted everything off of her account that had her face in it, opting to showcase the food instead.

“Hmm…” Benny nodded, handing back her phone. He pulled his out and started typing as she looked on with inquiring eyes. “There, you have a new follower,” he winked.

She looked at the notification, trying to steady her breath at how hot he looked in his profile picture. “Holy shit, are you like an influencer or something?!”

Benny looked a bit sheepish, “I started the account when I got into fighting…a way to promote them…and then I just kept posting gym stuff and it grew from there.”

“Well, you have a lot of very loyal fans it seems,” Vanessa smirked as she scrolled through some particularly thirsty comments on his account. Normally something like this would be a complete red flag, especially given her ex’s history, but there was something about Benny’s shy smile that put her mind a little more at ease. 

“Pope used to date a girl who did social media stuff for her job so she set it up for me. I don’t post a ton, but it’s there. I’m mostly on there to help keep an eye on my niece, lord knows her dad is a lost cause when it comes to anything on his phone that’s more than making a call,” he chuckled to himself. “But now I’m excited to see your food stuff on my feed,” he smiled.

“Well thanks…I started the account when I lived in Charlotte…gave me an excuse to get around and explore,” she gave a tight smile as she bit into a slider.

“Maybe we can explore some stuff…together?” Benny’s hopeful eyes found hers as she slowed her chewing.

“Um…ok, yeah sure, that’d be fun,” she smiled back. “Although you may regret what you’re signing yourself up for,” she winked.

He regarded her with a lopsided grin. “Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna regret it at all, boss lady.” 

Three weeks to fight night

Things around Mule Fall Court settled into an easy routine the following week. Benny and Frankie kept a consistent schedule at the gym. Sometimes Connor would tag along too, although he was trying to soak up the last bits of summer before he and Aria had to head back to school. Meanwhile, Will and Santiago were nearly done with Melissa’s backyard and already looking for their next project. One day as they were cleaning up, Victoria stopped over and they talked about her lawn. They all agreed that it would be a good project to tackle once Benny’s fight was done.

Will found himself hanging out with Katie a few nights so they could finish up the last season of The Mandalorian. He had to admit, he actually really enjoyed it as much as the company he had while watching it. Ever since they established their boundaries as friends, it felt like a weight was lifted off. They were able to just relax and found themselves opening up in ways they hadn’t with another person in years, or ever. Will also decided to treat himself a bit and got a motorcycle. He found riding around, feeling the wind in his face, to be calming.

Katie and Megan made a vow to restart their weekly wine night, adding the usual suspects to the mix. New to the group was Katie’s coworker, Miranda. Like Megan, she was a single mother and rarely took time to do anything for herself. It had taken a few weeks of coaxing but Katie finally convinced her to take Aria up on the babysitting offer and come over for a night of laughs and girl talk – yes, David included himself in that.

Benny and Vanessa hung out a few more times. Thanks to some good-intentioned meddling from Marcus, he recruited Benny to come over and keep Vanessa company while he and Victoria enjoyed a night out to celebrate their anniversary. They played with the kids all night and ordered pizza. Vanessa was thankful to have Benny there since he was able to run around and tire the kids out. 

Mariella was adamant that Benny tucked her into her crib and Benny and Vanessa stayed in her room for a while until she went to sleep. Vanessa learned that Benny had a beautiful voice. He sang a lullaby to Mariella to finally get her to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. Settling back on the couch, Benny dutifully listened as Vanessa showed him a few restaurants that recently caught her eye online.  

He was still nervous about pushing things too far, but couldn't help but flirt with her. What made him even more nervous was he felt like she was flirting back. He so badly wanted to kiss her, trying his hardest to keep his eyes from drifting to her lips. She moved closer to him, crossing a leg on the couch to face him, laughing at a joke he made. When the laughter died down, she looked at him, trying to steady her breathing. He licked his bottom lip and her eyes betrayed her, looking down as she sucked a breath in. At the same time, they both leaned forward, he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His lips were near to hers when they heard the garage door, pulling them both away from each other like two teenagers who had gotten caught almost making out by their parents.

With a deep breath, Frankie looked at the calendar hanging on his fridge by a single magnet. This date was one he’d been equally dreading and looking forward to – a year since he flushed the last bit of his stash down the toilet and decided to start the journey of putting all of the broken pieces back together again. It hadn’t been an easy year by any stretch of the imagination, but quietly and steadily he made it to milestone after milestone. 

Valeria was the first person to text him this morning. She knew her brother shied away from attention, so she acknowledged the day with a simple I’m proud of you Paco. Love you. She followed that up with a picture of his niece and nephew smiling at the camera, Antonio proudly showing off the gap from the tooth he lost this week.

Jo texted him this morning none the wiser about the significance of this day other than the fact that it meant she was going to see Frankie. It had only been two weeks since their shared flight down to Tampa. Lucille and Valeria had both separately referred to it as the “flight that changed your life” but Frankie hadn't fully embraced that moniker. It had been so long since he’d opened up his heart in this way. He battled with a constant inner struggle between wanting to guard his heart and wanting to jump head-first into this. 

This weekend’s trip felt momentous for several reasons, but the biggest was that Frankie planned to tell Jo everything about his past. Although it was under different circumstances, opening up to Lucille and having her embrace him with love and compassion did wonders for him. For so long he’d been in a spiral of self-loathing, thinking that everyone was disappointed by him and that he was a failure. But Lucille cracked the door open and shined some light and he was hopeful that Jo would kick it wide open. The idea of sharing the darkest parts of himself and his past terrified him more than crash-landing a helicopter, but it was something he had to do. He wanted more with Jo and if he had any chance at it, he had to be honest with her.

Next Time on As the Mule Falls: We get closer and closer to fight night. The neighbors host a party to welcome the Pikes to the neighborhood. A little bit of pining and angst. More Cousin Joel phone calls. 

A/N: Hi! First, I hope you are still enjoying this series. We have SO many storylines in play with several more to come, I do have a plan for all of this I promise. And all of those eagerly awaiting Cousin Joel (me included), he’s on his way soon. That’s part of the reason why we had some time jumps in this episode. With that being said, I’m going to try something new and do some extras in addition to the episodes. Consider it your extended or deleted scenes if we were watching the box set of DVDs of the season (dating myself with that reference). I’m already planning an extra to show more of Benny and Vanessa’s bowling date along with a one-shot of Frankie’s trip to Atlanta. 

Thank you as always for reading, sharing, or sending me a message about this story!

Taglist: @goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @noxturnalpascal / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3414 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper / @csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe / @weho2kcmo / @itspdameronthings / @mclibs23

[shuacore]

[ 00:53 ] skating in central park — bill evans

“holy balls it’s cold as fuck.” 

leave it to jun to keep it romantic. you hold back a snort of laughter, knowing it would only egg your boyfriend on more. he has his hand shoved into his pockets, breath coming out in steamy puffs of air. it’s biting this evening, but jun looks like a drama lead—so cute, all bundled with the tip of his nose red in his long trench coat and white puffy earmuffs—that you don’t even mind.

you sigh knowingly, twisting around to look at him with a smile. “come on! the christmas market is so cute.” 

“why can’t we just get drinks inside?” he whines, and you flit over, pressing a quick kiss to his cold cheek. this silences him for a moment as he regards you with wide eyes, smiling with adoration. your stomach flip flops around. ah, it never gets old.

“let’s just do a quick loop and then i promise we can go and get drinks. at a bar. inside,” you say in earnest, and this seems to persuade jun. you loop your arm through his, tucking yourself neatly into his side. he’s warm, even under all the layers, and you smell the familiar aroma of amber and cinnamon wafting from his skin. 

he groans,”fine,” without any heat, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. your grin takes over your whole face as you tug him deeper into the throng of people. there are booths lining the walkway packed with sparkling decorations, large painted ornaments and tempting aromas of herbs and spices. your mouth waters as you pass by a booth selling pierogis, and you tug jun behind you as you move closer, pressing a finger against the glass.  

“ooh, let’s get some,” you say, and your excitement is enough to convince jun to hand over eight dollars to the stand, smiling fondly as you feed him bites from your fork. they’re warm and buttery and a perfect snack to combat the bitter chill of the winter air, and with full bellies you continue tooling around the market. you peruse spice stands, cooking stands, art stands, hand knit hats, scarves, and mittens, hand-painted ornaments, and a million other handcrafted things, all the while jun follows faithfully behind. his eyes glint merrily in the Christmas lights swinging in the night air. 

the pathway opens up into a lively center square, and you gasp excitedly, reaching out to grasp jun’s gloved hand tightly in your own.

“look! ice skating!” you say with vigor, skipping over to the barrier and watching the skaters with wide eyes. you turn back to your boyfriend, blushing to see him watching you again with poorly disguised amusement. “we should do it!”

jun’s eyebrows disappear underneath his fringe. “oh…i don’t know…”

you seemed to be spending most of your time convincing your partner to have a good time with you. 

“come onnnn! i’ll pay this time,” you plead, tugging on his elbow like a needy child. normally you’d take no for an answer, but it’s christmas for god’s sake, and you want to go ice skating with your boyfriend. not surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for him to relent—a few ‘please, please, please’s and an extra whispered promise in his ear for some winter activities you could do once you got home—before he’s pulling you by the hand to the booth and smacking a bill on the counter. 

“two pairs of skates! sizes 7 and 11, please.” your smile is blinding as you place a giddy peck to the cheek, and there he goes blushing again, like this is your first date and not your 200th. you like seeing jun all flustered around you; even after four years it still makes your stomach flip.

the worker hands jun his change and two pairs of skates—one of which he hands off to you—and you find a place to put them on. then the two of you are standing at the edge of the rink, hand in hand. you’ve only ever really gone skating on the ponds near your house, and even then it’s only been the two of you or family members during the holidays. and suddenly you’re a little nervous. experienced skaters and hockey players zip by at blinding speeds, and you inhale a sharp breath as the speed of a skater passing by ruffles your scarf. 

sensing your hesitation, jun gives your hand a soft squeeze and pulls you onto the rink. you grip the wall, white-knuckled, as jun leads you around the edge. it’s slow-going at first, as you get your bearings on the ice, but jun seems to pick up the movements naturally. he’s always been more adept at picking up new skill and ice skating seems to be no exception.

“wait, how are you so good at this?” you ask, breathless, as jun skates gracefully backwards, all the while still holding your hand in his. your trepidation is replaced by incredulity as jun releases your hand and swiftly flips around and glides off in easy loops.

“what the hell?!” you curse loudly, earning you a few grumpy glares from parents of young kids, but you’re too preoccupied watching your ice-skating-prodigy boyfriend to notice. the wind whips through his dark hair, pushing it off his forehead as he passes by you, close enough to feel his fingers graze your arm. “when did you learn to do this?!”

your knees are still unsteady on the ice, and you keep your fingers wrapped around the wall as you hobble around, trying to catch up with your boyfriend. 

“wait!” you call out in slight desperation as he skates past you one more time, weaving in and out of couples and kids making their own rounds. you frown, still sedentary, as jun finally skates back to you, skidding to a stop so you feel a light shower of ice sprinkle your face. 

“hey—ouch!” jun whines, rubbing his shoulder where you just punched him. “what?!”

“since when have you been good at skating?!” you ask in disbelief. he shrugs, exclaiming aloud when he dodges another swing. 

“stop!” jun protests, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and then he knits his fingers in your tightly. “just… like this, come on.” he pulls you gently away from the wall amid objections, showing you how to swish your feet in a graceful back-and-forth pattern. you start to gain a little speed. the wall seems miles away now, other skaters are dipping and weaving around you, and you turn back to jun with your arms held aloft, his name already formed on your lips in jubilation—

WHAM!

this time you do curse loud enough for enough people to hear. jun laughs raucously over the sound of other skaters as you lay flat on your back on the ice, your elbows, hips and pride aching. his face appears over yours, hair hanging down, face glowing with mirth. he offers you a hand, and pulls you up slowly as you wince. talk about old bones—you were going to be feeling that for a week. you hold your butt, massaging the muscle as it aches. 

“fuck,” you groan, lightly punching jun again as he laughs. it soothes your dignity just a bit to see him so happy, throwing his whole head back as he wipes the tears from his eyes. 

“here, i’ll help you,” jun promises, holding his arm out to you. this time it goes a little smoother as jun guides you around the rink. you almost make a full second rotation before you stumble again, this time taking your boyfriend down with you in a spectacular display of limbs and more curse words. the two of you laugh, amid a tangle of arms and legs, breathless. the air doesn’t seem so biting anymore. even on the ice, feeling the bruises blossoming on your shins and butt, watching your boyfriend heave himself to his feet, brush off the snow from his long winter trench coat like some kind of rom-com lead has your heart fluttering in your chest. he pulls you to your feet again, and sputters in surprise when you lurch forward to press a kiss to his lips. 

it fills your chest with warmth, and you laugh short-winded against his mouth as jun’s hands rest on the back of your neck. he’s a bit too eager, biting your lip slightly as you pull away before he’s finished. (you are still in public after all.)

“what was that for?” he asks, nose and cheeks red from the cold. you lift your hand to his face, tracing the line of his cheekbone lightly with your thumb. 

“mm, nothing. i just love you,” you say, quietly, unable to stop the smiles from filling your face. 

jun leans in again, lips centimeters form yours when someone yells, “get a room!” and you freeze. jun laughs loudly again, throwing his head back like he always does. you hid your face against his chest as you giggle in embarrassment. his arms are warm around your body.

“do you wanna take a break?” he asks when you resurface. 

you falter. “but we just got them,” you say, feeling a bit guilty. 

“hey, we have them for a whole hour,” he assures you, and presses a kiss to your temple. 

despite your protests, the activities on land are much more your speed. after finding a secluded little bench, jun disappears for a moment, only to return with two steaming mugs of hot apple cider. it’s sweet and a little spicy but it sends a welcome wave of warmth through your body, letting the steam defrost your noses and cheeks from the winter air. jun wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as you watch the skaters together. 

and you just sit in quiet for a while, every so often commenting on the booths or other market-goers. unbeknownst to you, jun watches you fondly, taking in your slouched posture, your bright eyes as you drink in the christmas festivities. that alone is enough to make his chest want to burst. he tucks you just a bit tighter in to his side, lifting a hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved knuckles.

his presence is just as warm as the cider cupped in your hands.

--

check out my masterlist!

a/n: just a fun little wintery jun-fic that's been on my mind. i was also thinking of posting it to skating by vince guaraldi (also a good one if u want the ambiance!!!!) but i liked the mellow tones of bill evans too :3

xx thanks for reading LOVE U!!!

[soapyghost]

EMBERS

Firefighter John Price x Fem! Reader

I constantly have Price brain rot so like have my horny thoughts. Hear me out- firefighter price. EH? EHHHH?? Ok fuck you im doing it :) Anyways- this is dedicated to my local fire department cuz they are FINE AF (i see yall at the grocery store how u doin)

So I’m planning on making this a series. A lil slow burn. Idk how many parts. Enjoy the ride. Lmk if you want to be put on the tag list.

Warnings: eventual smut!!! Fluff, fire, mentions of injuries, angst kinda? Use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tag list- @southernbluebellereader (thank you so much for letting me vent about this work ily)

Funny how the worst night of your life would lead you to the best night of your life. Waking up the the blaring sounds of an alarm, you roll over and blindly grab your phone. It couldn't be 7am already can it? You tap on the screen to reveal it's only 2:47am and that sound was not your alarm. It takes you a moment to realize the ear shattering sound is coming from the fire alarm in your kitchen.

Without thinking you fling yourself out of the embrace of the covers only to be met with thick, choking, black smoke. Sputtering you being to cough and eyes filling with tears as you drop to the ground. Crawling to the door on all fours you slowly make your way across the hard vinyl flooring. Again, you mindlessly grab the door handle only to immediately fall backwards onto your back at the searing pain now flowing through your hand. A scream escapes your mouth as you look down, and even in the dark of the room you can see the charred flesh of your hand.

This is it, you think, swallowing hard. This is how you go. Scared and alone in your shitty one bedroom apartment in the same shitty town you were born. They're going to find your body on the morning news, charred and nearly unrecognizable, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties. You let out a sob as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, mixing with the soot in the air. The burning only adds to your hysteria. Curling up into the fetal position and rocking back and forth you wait for your end.

Suddenly the door to your bedroom is smashed open, wood chips flying everywhere. You scream again and fling your eyes open. Before you stands a giant, a monster. You let out another scream and begin shuffling backwards to the corner of the room. The large creature begins moving towards you and scoops you up like you were nothing. You'd come to terms with dying and becoming a crisp but not dying to a shadow. Squirming you try to get out of the iron clad grasp holding you bridal style. "I got one, she's alive" a voice comes from the monster. Its not until you're out in the hallway that you finally notice, its not a creature, not a monster, but a man.

Piercing blue eyes look down at you from the inside of a yellow hood, crinkling into a small smile. "It's going to be ok, shhh" the thick British voice says, muffled by the gas mask protecting his face. Gulping and holding back tears, you simply nod before putting your face into his chest.

Cold air hits your thighs as you breach the exit of the apartment complex. A gasp escapes your throat and goosebumps immediately cover your body. A small chuckle escapes the figure holding you. He sets you down on the grass, far out of the reach of the fire engulfing your home. You open your eyes to look upon your savior as he kneels down to remove his mask. When he does, the world seems to move in slow motion like one of those stupid commercials.

He's simply breathtaking, from his perfect blue eyes to the well groomed beard that graces his face. "You alrigh' luv?" he asks, reaching out a gloved hand to your shoulder. His voice shakes you out of your daze, back to the harsh reality that you are half naked on the grass outside the crumbling building you used to live in.

It's such a simple question, but after everything you've just been through, it hits like a ton of bricks and tears begin to well up in your eyes again. "Thank you" you hiccup out between sobs, holding tightly onto the hand on your shoulder. He grabs you and brings you into a tight embrace. The world stops, there's no more yelling, no more burning buildings, no more sirens. Its just you and him.

"Cap? You good?" a voice breaks through your fantasy, and you whip your head around to see yet another beautiful man. This one sporting a mohawk and beautiful hazel eyes. "All good here Soap, go." your savior commands. "Soap?" you croak, a huff of a laugh escaping you. Looking back to the man holding you together, a soft smile crawls upon your lips. "Ha, yeah. Long story. You never answered me luv, you alright?" he asks, pulling away slightly to look you over, suddenly realizing just how exposed you were.

Immediately he takes off his jacket and lays it on you, offering you some small form of coverage. "'M alrigh" you respond, breathless. Truth be told, you were far from alright, but that was all you could muster. The man smiles at you and begins to get up, but before you can think you reach out and pull him back, "please... please don't leave" you whisper. His eyes widen ever so slightly, before he holds you back. "Alrigh' luv I won't leave you, cmon'" he smiles, scooping you back up and taking you to the back of the ambulance.

Setting you down in the back, he readjusts the jacket to cover your lower half before looking back up into your eyes, "Names John" he says. You look up into the eyes of the man who just saved your life, "John" you say, testing out the feeling of his name on your tongue. "That's it luv, don't wear it out now ya 'ear?" he murmurs into your ear before finally untangling himself from you. A small whine escapes your throat at the loss of contact, and a blush rises up your face as you realize that he definitely heard it. He chuckles, "alrigh' love, I need to go back to my team, will you let the paramedics check you out?" he asks, looking deep in your eyes. You swallow thickly and nod, "will you come back?" you whisper, your face growing redder by the second. "Of course, luv" he says before cupping your cheek and smiling. He drops his hand, offering you one last smile before saying, “take good care of her eh Gaz?”. He turns his back and jogs back to the firetruck.

The paramedic begins to check you out, tending to your hand. He’s also good looking; tall, muscular and sporting a baseball cap. You notice he also has a slight accent. As he grabs the gauze to wrap your hand he says, “so you didn’t pay attention in school huh?” The remark catches you off guard and you simply blink in confusion at the man, did he really just ask you that? “You shouldn’t grab metal in a fire” he chuckles, finishing your hand and giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Guess not huh” you respond sheepishly. Not only were you almost burnt to a crisp but now you’re getting chastised for not remembering elementary school training. “Ah, we all forget things in the moment. You’ll be ight” he smiles, placing his med kit back in the ambulance. You look down at the jacket covering your bare legs, it reads in all caps “PRICE”. John Price.

Johns smiling face rounds the corner just as Gaz finishes cleaning up, “how she lookin’ kid?” he asks, looking at you. “Ah she’ll be ight cap” Gaz responds, taking the unspoken hint to slip away and leave you two alone. You absentmindedly flex your hand, the feeling of the gauze on your hand unfamiliar and coarse.

“You alright sweetheart?” John kneels to be closer to your height, his eyes looking deep into yours. “Much better now. I don’t think I’ll ever forget to not touch metal” you laugh weakly. His laugh surprises you, deep and rich. The wrinkles by his eyes deepen as he laughs.

Now that the immediate threat of dying was over, you began to notice just how attractive John was. His muscles rippling underneath the tight long sleeve made your head spin. Or maybe it was the smoke inhalation. You could make out the salt and pepper greys in his beard and hair. And to top it all off, his beautiful blue eyes. You could get lost in them, you were lost in them.

A hand waves itself infront of your face and snaps you back to reality. You’d been caught and you blushed feverishly. “Luv?” John asked, “I asked ya a question.” “Oh ah uh. Sorry. Adrenaline” you answer, eyes darting to the concrete below, trying desperately to hide your face. “I asked if you got somewhere to stay?” He questions again. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah I can get a hotel.” You say, not quite sure how you’ll afford it but you really don’t have any option. “Well then, we’ll take ya” John smiles, holding out his hand.

You grab his hand and move his jacket so it’s resting on your shoulders. He leads you back to the fire truck where the rest of his crew is waiting. “Cap?” A man in a balaclava asks. “Were just taking.. hmm didn’t catch your name luv” John looks over to you. “Oh it’s Y/N” you say, blushing once again. “Beautiful. We’re dropping Y/N off a hotel” John states, recieving nods from his crew.

The ride there is quiet, John driving, the smell of smoke suffocating the cab of the truck. All the men looked exhausted, the one they called soap dozing off. But the man in the balaclava never took his eyes off you, never waivered. You found him odd, his stare unsettling you a bit.

When you finally make it to a hotel Soap wakes and opens the door for you, where John is waiting to help you down. He leads you into the lobby and before you can speak he says “one room for the lady please” to the receptionist. The woman behind the desk smiles and says, “sure thing John” before sliding him a key.

“But wait- I need to pay!” You exclaim. John simply laughs and extends his hand out again to lead you to your room. “No need to worry luv, this is on me” he smiles. You could get lost forever in that smile, would do anything to get to see it. The walk to your room seeming all too short, he drops your hand to unlock the door and holds it open for you.

“Get some rest alright?” He says, looking down at you. All the adrenaline has evaporated from your body and all you can think about is how comfortable that bed looks. You look up to him and whisper, “thank you.” He smiles again, before gesturing you inside. “Sleep well, luv’” he murmurs before closing the door and leaving you in the darkness of the hotel room.

You don’t even remember crawling into bed or even falling asleep. When you wake, you’re comfortably in bed still in John Prices jacket.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A Kindness

CW: Runaway whumpee, referenced hunger/malnourishment

Timeline: After Jameson escaped from Robert but before he found a safehouse

For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 3: A Long Cold Night

-

It’s fucking freezing out here. Jameson thought California wasn’t supposed to get cold like this, but just his goddamn luck, it definitely does. 

He’s curled up against the heavy concrete beneath the overpass, using it to block the worst of the wind. There are a scattering of tents around him, others who have figured out some slim form of shelter. There’s a couple fires going, too, but Jameson doesn’t want anything to do with the people circled around them, sharing stories and in-jokes. They’ve been out here for long enough to know each other. To trust each other, more or less.

Like everywhere else he goes, Jameson doesn’t fit.

He sure as fuck doesn't trust.

When he finds other runaway pets, they think he’s frightening. The twisted scar near his mouth catches the firelight too well. He's too brash, too angry, someone who might be violent.

When he tries to stick around non-pets, they read him like a book and treat him like shit on the bottom of their shoes. Or try to sneak up on him when he sleeps and get a hand down his pants, assuming that he won’t fight back, because everyone knows Box Boys will lie back and take it, right?

Well, Jameson isn’t like other pets.

He isn't just any Box Boy.

Nanda taught him how to survive, no matter what it cost. Nanda taught him-

Goddamn fucking dead Nanda.

If he wasn't so fucking dead none of this would be happening.

Jameson closes his eyes against a hot rush of tears he refuses to allow out, not now. Not when he knows he's being watched, considered for whether he might have a few dollars that could be stolen or if he could be held down and made to accept their touch. He won't be.

The ones who try learn that real fast not to try again, once they have busted lips and black eyes and, in one case, a set of balls so bruised and twisted that the asshole who tried to make Jameson kneel for him is definitely sterile now.

Cold nights make his legs ache, the final loving legacy of the braces he’d worn for too long that never let him stand all the way up. Two goddamn assholes had put those on him, and he'll never be free of the pain. Jameson ignores it, grinds his teeth until his jaw hurts worse than his legs ever could. He can ignore it just fine until the weather gets cold.

Mostly.

There’s a scraping off to his left, footsteps crunching on gravel and shards of broken glass. Jameson’s knife is in his hand as easily as he breathes and he’s already got it brandished when he turns, putting a sneer on his face, leaning into the ugliness of the scar that twists one side of his mouth more than the other. “Listen, motherfucker, try to stick your dick anywhere near me and I’ll fucking cut it off-... shit.”

His voice dies as he takes her in.

She’s small, almost dainty looking. He reads her for what she is in a heartbeat, the grace in every movement carefully trained until it was no longer a conscious choice, the soft skin that had spent a long time moisturized and cared for at odds with the hackjob and clumsy box-dye red she’d done to her hair to try and make herself less recognizable. She’s drowning in a man’s overcoat at least four sizes too big and so long it’s dragging the ground, heavy boots that she has to be wearing at least three pairs of socks to fit into. She’s wearing leather driving gloves too big for her hands. 

Her eyes are wide and frightened.

But she's not frightened of him.

She reads him right back, and they recognize each other before a single real word is said. She manages a slight, trembling smile. Jameson feels the snarl fade off his own face. They might have trained together, not that he remembers much of training.

“... can I sit with you tonight?” She asks, voice low, glancing nervously over her shoulder and then back to him. “Please? You’re, you were one too, right?”

Jameson’s jaw works.

He should tell her to fuck off, this is his spot, leave him alone. That he’s not nice, he’s no one anyone can trust. He’s been owned three times and twice they made him live on his hands and knees, once he starved, once he watched people die over and over again until he sees their faces every time he sleeps. 

He didn't deserve to be the one who lived after it all, but he's the one who would do anything not to die, so here they are. Here they fucking are.

Instead of rejecting her need for even one small kindness, he replies instead, "Yeah, whatever. Go ahead. Don't try to talk to me about it, though."

He closes the knife, letting it slide back into his pocket as she makes her way to him, dropping down to sit beside him, curling her knees to her chest and pulling a hood up over her head. Jameson feels… settled, at the gentle unassuming touch, her weight barely noticeable when she leans slowly until her head rests on his shoulder. She smells kind of gross, but he probably does, too. Who knows when either of them last showered?

“Sorry,” She whispers as she slides her gloved hand into his, twining their fingers together. 

“Uh-... what-... what the fuck are you doing-”

“There’s a guy who won’t stop following me around.” She keeps her voice low, turning and lifting her chin so she’s almost kissing Jameson’s cheek right over his scar as she speaks. “I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you-... just pretend to be, for a while? We’re good at pretending we’re in relationships, you can do it, right? I knew when I saw you that you’d been like me.”

Jameson fights the twist of pain.

Pretending we’re in relationships.

That’s as close as he’s ever going to get, and even that was ripped away from him. Jameson never even got to tell him-

He shuts that thought down.

He doesn’t think about Nanda anymore. He doesn’t think about anyone unless it’s to hate them - that’s easier. 

All he does is nod, giving a smile - fake but to anyone else it looks warmly genuine. He can make any expression an owner wants on command, still - the scars and bald patches where hair used to be, rubbed away by the muzzle day after day, make it a little scarier. But it never looks like a lie. 

“I got you,” He murmurs back, and kisses her forehead like they’ve known each other for forever. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a man lurking, skulking around, one eye on the girl all the time, watching Jameson slide an arm around her waist with barely concealed jealousy. Jameson shoots him a serene smile, pulling the girl tightly against him. 

It’s going to be a long, cold night, and he’s not going to sleep at all.

The girl dozes off almost immediately, finally feeling safe enough to sleep, and that… that helps. A little bit. 

It's a kindness.

-

@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlin-always-writing  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @whump-tr0pes  @yet-another-heathen @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[beggingwolf]

Sid/geno for #12

things you said when you thought i was asleep

Zhenya's mother liked to pack them oranges when they were younger. Sometimes they were overripe, tender enough that they would burst in his lunch bag. Zhenya would hide away in the cold hockey arena and suck the sappy juice off his fingers. The pith of the peel stuck to his fingers and lips. His gloves would smell like pulp, and after practice, once the insides were soaked with sweat, the smell twisted into a headier funk that Zhenya liked to bury his nose in.

Now, twisted in the bedsheets, his limbs stuck to the bedding like pulpy fingers to a glove. Zhenya couldn't move. His face was pressed to the mattress, the pillow heavy at the crown of his head. Zhenya wasn't sure where his fingers and toes all were—if they were even still attached. He felt bigger than his body, all stretched out of shape.

The tacky sweat on his skin was cooling. The bedroom was chilled, but Zhenya didn't move. He could feel the mattress shifting as Sidney fumbled toward the edge. Zhenya only dared crack an eye open when the weight of a second body lifted from the bed.

The first things he saw were the red marks clawed onto Sidney's shoulders. He wasn't ready for the feeling that ballooned in his gut—nausea, pride, something that felt animalistic and a little evil. Zhenya opened his mouth and took in a long, wet breath, trying to hold the mess down where it was threatening to slide up his throat.

Sidney fumbled at the nightstand, picking up the little silver phone he'd been holding so tightly when he'd met Zhenya downstairs just four hours ago. He flipped it open and thumbed at some buttons. Zhenya's eyes skittered nervously over the stark marks on his back, dipping lower.

His ass was huge and pale and round. Zhenya eyed the curve of it with a two-headed feeling. He liked the look of it. He resented that he liked it, a little bit. He waited as the phone beeped with each keystroke. Maybe Sidney was calling some girl he'd left back in Canada. Worse: someone in Pittsburgh. Zhenya tensed.

The collar—enormous and thick and stuck to his neck like the skin of an orange—felt like it tightened around his throat.

"Dad?" Sidney whispered as he put the phone to his ear.

Zhenya tried to soften the loud breath that shook out of him. It made the edge of the collar settle uncomfortably in the soft skin under his jaw. It was too fucking thick, Zhenya had known that the second he'd laid eyes on it, Sidney's nervous hands leaving sweaty fingerprints on the leather as they stared across Mario's entryway at each other.

Sidney had likely picked it out. That's what doms got to do. Whatever Zhenya wore around his neck for the next however many years they kept him in Pittsburgh, Sidney would get to choose it.

"Yeah, we're... I'm in my room. We had dinner with Mario. We... yeah. Yes. He said yes."

Zhenya's gaze slid back up to those marks, and then higher, to the mess of hair haloing Sidney's head.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Sidney whispered.

That was maybe true. Zhenya didn't have much experience being dominated. He'd never allowed himself to get tangled up with that shit. Zhenya had seen what the consequences were for other submissive boys who let teammates get their hands around their necks. It never resulted in anything good on the ice, and Zhenya had been the captain. He'd had a reputation to protect.

Here, in America, he had nothing. The Penguins wouldn't even sign the contract until Sidney's collar was around his neck. Zhenya had a body, and he had a dream, and one was exchanged for the other in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

He would never have been captain here anyway, not with Sidney on the team. This was the better option, being Sidney's... whatever he was.

The cold air was making the tacky wetness on Zhenya's thighs grow frigid. He felt small and shriveled. His own cum was a cool stain under his hip. His ass was sore. He'd never, not before tonight.

"Yeah," Sidney croaked into his phone after his father's muffled voice finally paused for a long-enough breath. "Yeah, I know, Mario is... he's experienced. I could ask, if I needed to."

Zhenya had spent much of the last year feeling alone. He'd been waiting for Pittsburgh to call, knowing what waited for him. He'd been waiting for it since he'd been drafted. He'd been accused of naivety before, but never about this. The Penguins had first possessed Lemieux, and now they had Crosby. Zhenya's ownership had never been in question, only the matter of who would hold the leash.

"No," Sidney whispered. He turned, looking over his shoulder, and Zhenya let his eyes shut. He could feel Sidney's gaze land on him, it was a body-deep heat, like it began inside Zhenya and worked its way out to his flesh. He shivered.

"He's... he's fine. I think he's fine. We talked a little. His English is okay. He can understand a lot. I asked him if he was okay with everything. He said he was. But, Dad..."

Sidney trailed off. Zhenya held very still. The collar dug into his skin.

"Yeah. I can figure it out," Sidney said like he was repeating it back to his father. "I can do it. He's... he's good on the ice, you saw on those tapes this summer. We need him. I need him. Mario says we have to start building the team, and he's the piece we were missing."

The bed dipped. A hand, blazingly warm, branded a palm print onto where Zhenya's thigh was bared to the night air.

"Yeah. I'll call on Friday. Say hi to Mom and Taylor. You too."

Zhenya took in a slow breath. He hoped his face, still half-hidden in the bed, was slack enough to feign sleep. He felt exposed and painfully alone-with-Sidney like this. He and Sidney didn't know each other, even though Sidney had been inside of him. Zhenya's lips had been pressed to Sidney's throat.

"I'll figure it out," Sidney said softly. "I'm going to do it right. We're going to do this together."

The collar was heavy on Zhenya's neck. Zhenya wasn't sure, if given the chance, that he'd take it off.

[humiliatingsluts]

Power Corrupts: Part 10

Rob couldn't do anything when he got home except jerk off, reliving every moment of the day. The power he had felt while using his wife was intoxicating. He felt addicted. Every image of his cock forcing it's way into her ass was repeating in his head. He went back to the Free Use Tourism forum and started scrolling other stories of his wife being used. Story after story of her taking cocks, swallowing cum and piss, men abusing her in every way and writing detailed reviews of her.

He knew Alex was off for two days, and he started to get a new idea. He began browsing other girls that were available locally. He wanted another married woman, another formerly good girl who was now a whore. Most free use sluts were not as high profile as his wife, but he found a promising thread. A young football player, Louise Smith, who had been well known as an influencer for healthy eating and exercise, until she was found to have a secret habit for cocaine and almost everything else, and convicted for a year of free use. That was more than six months ago, and reading further he discovered her (much less famous but wealthy) husband had already publicly disowned her. The reviews were detailed and said she was becoming an enthusiastic slut over time. She was in use only twenty minutes away on the tube. Rob was on his way within minutes.

Louise was much hotter than Alex, as a professional athlete her body was perfectly toned. She was on all fours on the floor rather than a table like Alex. It was late in the day so she was covered in cum and spit. Rob was already rock hard, comparing the clips of her on TV doing interviews with the broken whore in front of him. He waited his turn, watching her take cock after cock. She was enthusiastic, shaking her ass and licking every cock she was offered. She even moaned when a particularly big cock forced into her asshole.

It was finally Rob's turn and he looked down at her ass. He had never fucked anyone other than Alex. Her pussy was leaking cum, but it was tight and pretty. He spanked her ass a couple of times and she looked back between cocks and winked at him. She arched her back and pushed her holes out, clearly begging him to fuck her. Rob thought back to his wife hating every cock, and realised he wanted to turn her into a slut like Louise. He gripped her hips and pushed into her cunt.

---

The day was over. Alex was in a van on the way to the prison, finally having finished her four day stint, and now with two days off in a row. She had completely turned off her brain after seeing her husband. When he walked into the room a second time and forced himself on her asshole she had stopped thinking and been on complete autopilot. She had never felt more humiliated.

Now she was sitting in the van alone, her thoughts and feelings were returning, and overwhelming her. She knew she was crying, but the horror in her chest was turning to actual pain. She could do nothing but sit and sob until the van arrived at the prison.

Upon entering she got a medical checkup. The doctor was a kind man who rarely expected more than a handjob. She had been disgusted at first, but now she casually stroked his cock while he ran his tests. He put on his nitrile gloves and began inspecting her. As usual he groped her tits, cunt and asshole, supposedly checking her for injury. She knew better than to complain though, and after a couple of minutes he took some swabs and smiled, "Everything looks healthy, your ass is a little bit bruised but it'll heal normally."

Alex nodded and began to get up from the bed, but he firmly pushed her back down and shifted, rubbing his cock on her face. She didn't even protest, opening her mouth and licking the head of his cock. He was groping her again, the smooth latex of his gloves was a strange sensation. She started sucking him fully, urgently bobbing her head up and down his cock. The faster he came, the faster she could be alone in her cell. She moaned as he squeezed her nipples and began rubbing his balls, trying everything to make him cum. And it worked. He didn't last long, and she swallowed it all. The let his dick fall out of her mouth and grinned, "Thank you doctor" she said sweetly, and finally was allowed to leave.

When she reached her cell, reality really did hit. She had nothing to do but sit on the hard mattress and think about how her husband had betrayed her and cruelly used her. She kept replaying the moment she realised she was sucking his cock, or the moment he came in her ass. She found herself wondering if he had been fucking other free use girls. She knew her marriage was over. Five years of free use would have strained it anyway, but she knew they were done now. She wished she could be back in the room, filled with cock so she didn't need to think. Instead, she started fingering herself, replacing her stress with arousal and eventually passing out. She dreamt of endless cocks.

---

Follow HumiliatingSluts for new writing every Friday.

[robin374]

Oh god, I have this like… forbidden, shameful fantasy of mine to be tag teamed by sniper and spy, but in like a hate-fucking the enemy team kinda way. I get if you don’t wanna write this but if you do, reader has a vagina, please and thank you so much 🫶

STOP I'M GONNA DEVELOP A CRUSH ON SPY AT THIS POINT. Don't worry, I have a similar forbidden fantasy 😳

You can tell that I've never written and threesome

Being tag-teamed by Sniper and Spy:

Good gawd 😍😍😍

It all started because you killed Sniper the moment he was going to kill your team's Medic. Spy saw it while invisible, repressed a laugh because of the kill but when he saw the annoyed face on Sniper's face he got serious.

"It's the 15th time they killed me! Wanker!"

"HON HON HON HON 🥖🥖"

Just as Spy was recovering from his laughter, you appeared behind him, took his own butterfly knife and stabbed him on the back. Now the one laughing was you.

However, you didn't notice Sniper's hand wrapped on your wrist, so when you were going to run away he pulled you to the ground and made sure no one was around.

"When Spy comes back you will see the consequences of messing with us" He whispered in your ear.

He was so close to your face that you could see his greyish eyes through his sunglasses, he licked lips locking his eyes on your trembling lips.

Expecting a kiss, you yelped the moment you felt Sniper sharp teeth touch your neck. Unconsciously, your hands went to his shoulders to separate him from you. However, you felt two other hands lift you from the floor.

"You don't have any idea of how to treat a lady, bushman."

A French accented voice reached your ears from behind, those hands that pinned you to the ground started to caress your sides. At the same time, a gloved hand tilted your head to one side and Spy's experienced lips kissed you neck, biting and sucking while so.

Sniper kissed your cheeks and started to go down, between the two men they laid you on the floor. He lifted you shirt and left a small trail of kisses and bites.

"Don't even think we are going to be good for you, roo." He said between bites.

They took your clothes off until you were with nothing on. Spy took his gloves off with his mouth and pushed Sniper out of the way, he started touching your clit and smirked more and more when he heard your moans.

Sniper bit your neck and kissed your mouth while Spy was doing his job. Whenever you moaned too loud, he bit you harder or kissed roughly your mouth.

After some more foreplay, Sniper was tired of Spy having all the fun, so he decided to force you on four. Spy, knowin what his colleague wanted to do, he let Sniper to be behind you and him in front of you.

The moment you moaned when Sniper pushed his size inside you, Spy took advantage of it and inserted his own size inside you mouth.

The thirsted and pumped inside you without mercy, not hearing your pleas and cries. They blocked you from your orgasm several times until you were crying for mercy.

When you were about to reach your orgasm they stopped and separated from you. You were left all aroused up and turned on.

You three were putting your own clothes on, until you guys heard some footsteps.

"Can I join the next time?" Said a German accented voice.

[outoutdamnspark]

HH Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons - Angelic Anatomy

(I love this nerdy duck man. I would kill for him, I swear to fuck.)

Listen. I'm so tired of the Beautiful™️, Perfect™️, human-looking depictions of angels - give me the Be Not Afraid, weird as fuck angels. The more uncanny the better!

🍎BODY. Starting off, I know HH's animation style is very stylized (and quite beautifully so), but I'm gonna go ahead and say that no, he just Looks Like That™️. That waist? Snatched. Why would an angel have organs? He doesn't. Man is built like an apple core (because of course) in that he has some semblance of a rib cage and then a waist smaller than Dita Von Teese. He also has no ass. None. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

🍎HANDS. I would have said he legitimately only has three fingers (again, I know it's stylized), but there's actually a moment where he's animated with four; it's right at the start of 'Hell's Greatest Dad', while he's on his throne - so as much as I'd like him to have more fucked up hands, I'm going to say he does, in fact, have four fingers. HOWEVER! We've all seen how long his fingers were drawn for the fight against Adam, right? "Your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer"? That. Long-ass fingers. Unnaturally so. This guy has inhuman, Del Toro-esque hands and no one can tell me otherwise. I'm thinking like Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth levels of disproportionately long fingers, with almost spider-like joints and half-inch long talons. They probably click ever-so-slightly when he moves them. Just. Creepy hands. Love it. Also? I don't think those are gloves he's wearing; I think his hands are just black, and that there's a gradient all the way up his arms, ending a little higher past his elbows.

I saw a couple people saying they headcanon his hands/arms as actually being burnt from when he tried to reach back up to Heaven while falling from grace. I kind of like that idea, but I'm not sure just yet if I've assimilated it into my own personal headcanon. Heavily considering it, though...

🍎FACE. Again, why would an angel have humanoid features? Lucifer straight up has no nose. Or ears. But heck, let's take it further than that, even - why not say he has oversized eyes? (And yes, I totally believe his eyelids are just naturally purple, though I wouldn't put it past him to be into makeup, being the embodiment of the Sin of Pride and all.) He might have little snake-like slits where a nose should be, since we see him flare his nostrils in determination when Charlie is calling him, but other than that I imagine there's just a faint slope down the center of his face like we see with Sera.

As for his mouth, we all saw his canonically forked tongue but I need to overthink everything, so for the few seconds we see him stretch his lips wide enough to where his gums are visible? To me they look black. I'm thinking like. Black Mamba. The inside of Lucifer's mouth is just black, minus the red tongue and bone-white fangs.

🍎HOOVES. Look. I feel like I saw somewhere that it was confirmed Charlie has little hoovsies; she obviously got them from her dad. Lucifer wears boots, right? And if you look at them closely they're heeled - this guy 100% has digitigrade legs with hooves and he has to wear heeled boots to compensate for the way his legs/feet bend. Me, personally, I prefer the look of like, pig or cow hooves, because I like the idea of a more clawed-looking foot over a traditional goat hoof. Originally I headcanoned Lucifer as having something more akin to gargoyle feet, with two or three long, bird/raptor-like, taloned toes, but the idea of hooves has since heavily grown on me. I think they'd be the same gradient black-grey-white as his arms, too.

🍎HORNS. When we first got to see him with his horns fully out, I thought the black striping around the base of his horns was torn flesh with the red of his horns showing through. I respect the black stripes - those are cool - but I'm of the belief that if it can be made weirder, it should be. I will never unsee the base of his horns as having strips of torn, loose white flesh clinging to the keratin. Maybe he bleeds every time his horns come out, ripping through the skin like Wolverine's claws - maybe it's been so many years that he doesn't even feel it anymore, so used to the pain that he's numb to it now. Because seriously. What's more badass than watching an unearthly being rip themselves apart to reveal their true nature and not even flinch while doing so?

🍎EYES. Be Not Afraid, motherfucker. During the battle against the Exorcists and Adam in the final episode of season 1, we see that Lucifer has eyes on the inside of his tailcoat and on his bow tie. You cannot tell me he can't see with those. I will die on the hill that this man has a myriad of features he just. Doesn't show. (Like how Sera and Emily had a moment where their extra eyes appeared and then vanished again.) There are probably invisible eyes all over this guy, and also surrounding him, not even actually attached to him in any way. Extra eyes can manifest in his wings, on his face, on his clothes, in the air around him, you name it. And yes, he can see with all of them because they're all extensions of his being. Angels aren't physical entities, so it would makes sense that their "physical" attributes aren't bound to what humans perceive as normal limitation. Even Charlie hasn't seen his Actual Angelic Form. (Which is totally a duck-like celestial creature with six wings like in the flashback during 'More Than Anything.')

🍎UNCANNY, INHUMAN, ETHEREAL, FUCKED-UP, ELDRITCH, BIBLICALLY ACCURATE LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR PLEASE!

[crybabytoy59]

Holiday break Pt5.

Johns Aunite Dee patted the welts over his rear, that were now going from an angry red to a darker colour as the blood in them settled to become bruises of tomorrow ! Yes when she took sissy to Bee’s Dungeon for a professional  playtime her handiwork would be on show for all to see !...

She put the black rubber gloves her best friend gave her with glee, as Bee spoke to Baby..

“Now this is your chance to show you can be a clever baby girl and follow what Auntie Dee tells you to the letter Princess ! As you Are going to Learn to Do what You are Told When you are Told ! Make no mistake of that pantie thief’s like you are never Disobedient !...Now relax your Botty. No resisting Auntie Dee got that ?”

Ga’Ga !

John felt cold lib on his rear being pushed in circles then he gasped as his Auntie pushed her first finger inside his sissy hole !

Working it slowly she spoke to baby..

“Clever girl just relax for me ...You know Auntie has wanted to do this to you for so long, after she found out what you have been up too in my laundry basket sniffing my panties and using them to do dirty sticky messy’s in !

Yes sweetpee Auntie has known for sometime what you get up to in bed here at nights, So this week has been in the planning for sometime Baby Girl !..(she put a second finger in to not only a gasp but moaning !) Listen to yourself Baby girl your loving this aren’t you ? (Ga’Ga) Well sweetpee there no shame in being a sissy cock sucking whore ..so why don’t you moan Louder we want to hear what you will be like tomorrow in Auntie Bee’s Dungeon for the others sissies and men !”

They again laughed as sissy moaned louder at his Auntie fucking him harder with her two fingers !

Bee motioned with her hand for Dee too tilt her fingers down at an angle and pushed them Violently !

As Dee did the reaction was instant sissy started pushing backwards on to Auntie Dee’s fingers trying to get relief !

“OMG  you dirty wee Bitch You want to be fucked up the ass don’t you !”

Johns head was nodding wild now..he was lost in submission he had Always dreamed of his Auntie Fucking him now it was about to come true !!

Dee lined up the dildo slowly pushing it into John ..

This time he screamed but Not in pain in Pleasure as waves of long held lust for his Auntie broke loose...years of tortured feelings came flooding out !..

Dee started pumping into her new Toy a want of her own to take her Pleasure ... 

“Pweese Auntie Dee fwuck me hawder !!”

His Auntie needed no encouragement as she took hold of the frame lifting Sissy’s hips with the dildo pumping harder ! To squealing and pleading from her charge !

Auntie Bee was clapping..

“What a clever baby lemon your a natural cock loving little whore aren’t you princess? (Ga’Ga !) Yes baby cakes tomorrow your going to be used and abused in my Dungeon litte one… it’s going to ring with your screams of pain for our delight as you make us lots and lots of money princess… Fucked by sissy’s men … and some of my Dominant Female colleagues ! .. “

just as she painted this picture every part of baby lemon tensed up as she shot loads of cummies Everywhere ! …

But sissy wasn’t the only one his Auntie was arched almost ripping his legs start as she took her own pleasure from John ! .. 

This was the most precious and beautiful thing she had ever been a part of watching his collapsing as he spent Everywhere ! …

Bee was smirking at her best pal…

“Let’s get baby lemon out of her punishment frame as she needs to learn to clean up her own Mess ! ..

Auntie Bee had a spider gag with spikes all around the mouth bit ! 

As Auntie Dee mocked..

“Be a clever baby and open wide for Auntie Bee… then down on all fours and let’s have you clean up all this nasty Mess ! No tears won’t help little one ! Cry as much as you want your going to learn to lick up not only Your mess princess !”….

Down on all fours John now spent had lost the urge to be submissive ! 

But for his Aunties this was the best part ..

“What’s wrong baby lemon don’t you want to please Auntie ? .. Licking your mess will show Auntie Dee you Love her ..come on princess or is it to be six of the best with the nasty cane sweetheart?..Clever little baby girl that’s the way ..Get it All every last drip baby lemon”

The girls laughing as sissy licked the Mess from the kitchen floor !….

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 1

din/reader

if you're wondering why this seems familiar - it is :)

original part 1 // series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, non-explicit sex, 18+ only pls.

You’re almost blind with rage.

The sweat cooling on your brow is the only proof of the dogfight you should never have found yourselves in. Too little warning, too little time, too little information. It’s only a matter of time before someone doesn’t come back after a job - and you know exactly where everyone else will lay blame if that happens.

You’re not thinking, not really, as you discard your gloves in the cockpit of the modified shuttle, the soft leather makes a satisfying slap when they hit the control panel. But it doesn’t dispel the itch of the anger running through your blood like ants. The others grumble when you push past them in the cargo hold but nobody makes any effort to stop you, eyes locked on target as he descends the boarding ramp.

You shove Ran between the shoulder blades, once - hard - and he stumbles down the last few feet of the ramp, skidding across the hangar floor on his ass. It’s almost comical, the cartoonish way he trips on his own feet. A few years ago, you might have laughed. But even a few years ago, you wouldn’t have had the courage to be quite so expressive about his leadership choices. If that’s what he’s calling them.

“What the fuck was that?”

He’s got the gall to look surprised by your outburst, from his crumpled heap on the floor, but his eyes harden in the same instant. Ran gets to his feet slowly, the dust on his pants the only evidence he’d been on the ground in the first place. He holds your gaze steadily, a challenge.

“About time you started pulling your weight around here anyway, sweetheart.”

Bold words from a man whose bad information ends in blaster fire more often than not, and your blood boils - it’s enough to have you drawing your blaster. Only it's not in the holster you keep strapped to your thigh. There’s only one person who’d have the forethought, the sleight of hand, the fucking gumption to pick your pocket in this moment.

Your eyes are cold as you turn to look up the ramp, where Mando stands above you in the mouth of the small freighter with your blaster dangling from his index finger. He’s apparently unaffected by your outrage, even though Ran’s actions could have ended very differently for all four of you. Xi’an cackles from somewhere inside the cargo hold. She’s lucky you’re suddenly, unexpectedly, unarmed.

“If I hadn’t gotten us out of it, we would have died.” You’re right, and everyone knows you’re right. But Mando just shrugs, the barest roll of his shoulders, like it’s nothing. Water off a fucking duck’s back.

“But we didn’t die, did we?” He says simply, as he descends the ramp towards you. The fingertips of his gloves brush your thigh as he drops the blaster back into its rightful place in your holster, and you can only watch him stalk off into the shadows of the hangar. Xi’an skips out of the belly of the ship, hot on his heels as always, fluttering her eyelashes at you and faux-pouting as she passes. 

The only reason any of you made it back to the station at all is because of you. You were quick enough on your feet to anticipate the attack, you were on the guns, you made the lightspeed calculations quicker than the nav computer to get the fuck out of there. Something everyone else seems to have conveniently not noticed, as usual. You heave an annoyed sigh, the fading adrenaline of your fury has leached all the energy from your bones, and you scuff your boots on the corrugated metal as you pick your way down the rest of the ramp. Ran catches you when you pass him, his grip on your arm just a little too tight to be friendly. 

“Empire’s always looking for pilots, I can just as easily put you back where I found you.” He says lowly, and you know it’s not an empty threat. You have to tug yourself out of his grasp and you’re sure there’ll be bruises in the shape of his fingertips by morning, you can feel them already. He knows there’s nothing left for you on Corellia save for an arrest warrant and swift execution. So you’re stuck here, because - well, what else do you have? Qin hands you a pouch of credits for a job well done as you shuffle past him, which makes that particular pill a little easier to choke down. 

You settle for spending the rest of the evening sulking in your room. Like the grown up you are. 

The little room on Ran’s space station isn’t much, but you’ve done what you can. A small bed and a desk, the matching chair had gone missing long before you moved in, a shelving unit, and a viewport. You’d shoved the bed up against the cold metal of the wall right underneath the little pane of glass, scarcely bigger than the datapad that lies forgotten on your pillow but you pay the boss dearly for the view. For the stars to be the first thing you see when you wake, and the last thing you see before you sleep? It’s the kind of thing you dreamed about as a child before everything went to hell. An old blanket is the only reminder of who you used to be, loosely crocheted and full of holes - it was used to swaddle you as a baby once upon a time, before the sweat and the ash and the bloodstains. It’s the only thing you’d brought with you when you had to run all those years ago, wrapped around your shoulders to shield you from the night’s chill at the last minute. You hadn’t even had time to put your shoes on.

The blanket lies crumpled atop the bedsheets, surrounded by scribbled notes and reminders and blueprints. You have a habit of taking work to bed with you sometimes, but it keeps the loneliness at bay. Most of the time. So, you gather the documents in a haphazard pile, already knowing you’ll be annoyed that you’ll have to sort them out in the morning, but you’re too tired to care. They get dumped unceremoniously on the desk, between half-dismantled sections of the latest scrap freighter’s control board. You’re pretty sure that future-you can handle a few sheets of paper. It’s not a problem for right now, anyway.

You have to pee. 

In all honesty, you don’t remember falling asleep. But your back is stiff from the position you’ve found yourself in, curled up on top of the blankets of your bed, and your clothes from the job lay wrinkled on the floor. You’re thankful, at least, that even in your exhausted state you had the forethought to change into the ratty t-shirt and soft trousers you keep as pyjamas. You’ve slept in that jacket more often than you’d care to admit, but it’s definitely not something you like to do.

Your door slides open, once you’ve gathered the willpower to rise from your nest, to reveal lowered lights and a rare moment of quiet in the corridor. Sleep hours, then. It’s hard to keep track of time when it’s always night outside, although you don’t mind living off-planet so much. It’s not that bad once you get used to it. Rest here usually comes when you can get it, though most of the job crew tend to catch a nap here and there at the same time. The scrappers rotate, the hangar always busy with someone chopping something to pieces. But the hallway lights lower regularly, for a few hours at a time, to at least remind people that they should be sleeping. It’s nothing like those fancy artificial sunrise to sunset lighting cycles you’ve heard about on inner rim stations. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s awake to judge you for shuffling to the bathroom in your socks anyway. 

The light is too bright in comparison to the dim hall, and you almost jump back from your reflection in the small mirror. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled shirt, you really should have done something with your hair before you passed out. You’re sure you’ve never looked more exhausted. Sleep hasn’t come easy in the few years you’ve spent on the station, dreams plagued by flashes of the reason you came here in the first place. Running, choking on the smoke in your lungs, an old friend’s blood splattering across your cheek. The only rest you really get is when you work yourself down to the bone, until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, but you know you’re not the only one.

The door across from yours is open when you go back to your room, Mando standing in the frame, backlit by a lamp like he’s the hero from one of those propaganda movies you snuck into as a kid. You pause in your own doorway, it’s probably a bad idea to call him out on it. It’d probably only start an argument and then you’d have to deal with the only person you could count on to watch your back being mad at you.

“You should have backed me up earlier.” Your mouth takes the decision away from you. He waits for a moment, silently, like he’s expecting you to say more. But you leave it there.

“I did. You would have regretted killing him.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you can almost hear his eyes roll under the helmet in his response.

“Do you think I don’t know what you look like when you’re about to blow someone’s head off?”

Well, he’s fucking got you there, hasn’t he?

Because he’s absolutely right - with your flash in the pan anger at the plan so close to going wrong, you probably would have killed Ran. Maybe not intentionally, but it would have been the most likely outcome. And then where would you all be, because de facto leadership in his sudden absence wouldn’t have fallen to you. Not if you’d been the one to kill him anyway, who would trust you to lead them after that?

But the idea that he knows you well enough, has studied you closely enough, to know when you’re about to do something as terrible as take a life. It’s intimate. Romantic, almost. 

It doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as you might have thought it would.

The mismatched floor panels creak under your weight as you stand there for a long moment, just watching each other. Any animosity from the day’s earlier events has dissipated but you can’t quite bring yourself to thank him for stopping you from making a stupid decision. At least he was quick off the mark with this one. Usually, he’s too late, and he comes in swinging only to have to help you mop up whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He’s good like that. It’s only as he shifts slightly under your quiet observation that you notice the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” You ask, barely a whisper so as not to disturb the moment of peace. However short it might be.  

Mando’s spine goes rigid, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask at all. But you don’t have time to take back the words before he’s walking right towards you, backing you into the darkness of your room. You’ve never been this close to him before, chest to chest, alone. The warmth you can feel even from under the armour threatens to make your head spin. 

“Home,” His voice is low, “Don’t you ever think about going home?” 

You didn’t even know he had a home to go back to. There’s a lot you don’t know about the man in front of you, but he’s loyal to the bone. That much is plain to see. He wants to know you’ll be okay, you think, without him as a buffer between you and the rest of the crew.

“My home is here.” Your answer is final, although you can feel the raised eyebrow through his helmet. You’re no more attached to the space station than you are any of the planets you’ve yet to visit. It’s not home, nowhere is. But you’ve been here since you were sixteen, years before the rest of your team, it’s as close as you’ll get to belonging somewhere. Mando doesn’t respond, doesn’t ask any questions, only stands with you for a long moment. Breathing. He’s good like that. You’ve never felt the pressure to fill any silence with him, he seems to exist so comfortably in it. It’s easier that way, probably for you both. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, the only stories you’ve heard are the ones Qin told you drunk in a seedy cantina when Mando first joined. Horror stories. If his past is anything similar to yours, he’s grateful for the absence of questions too.

“So it’s goodbye, then?” You’re yet to break his stare. 

“Yes.”

Is he closer, somehow?

“Would you have said goodbye if I wasn’t already awake?” 

He’s definitely closer.

Mando reaches behind him to tap the control panel on the wall, sliding the door shut and leaving you in the darkness. He lets his bag slip off his shoulder, lowering it to the floor suspiciously silently for one you know is crammed with weaponry, and walks you further into the room. You can’t really see much at all, only the steady blinking of the little red lights in the ceiling panels.

“You trust me?” It’s so quiet, you wonder if you imagined the words. He’s never given you a reason not to.

“Keep your eyes closed?”

“I promise.”

It takes a moment before he lifts the lip of the helmet high enough, and another long few seconds of just being without barriers - breathing in the same space for the first time - for him to kiss you. And kiss you he does.

The breath you get in before your lips touch is all him, turning your insides to liquid gold. Everywhere he touches you sets a fire. For a man so rough, he is so careful, he handles you as though you’ll break at the slightest breeze. As though he is wholly undeserving of such sweetness. Part of you thinks he’s convinced he is. It’s a first and a last kiss, a hello and a goodbye kiss, the way he tries to suffocate himself in you is evidence enough that you won’t be here again. You won’t get to have him like this again. He stays close when you finally break apart, taking his helmet off completely and placing it down on your desk with a decisive thunk.

“Mando-”

He pulls away from your mouth suddenly, but doesn’t stray far. His forehead leans heavily yours, as though he might fall without you there, still close enough that your lips would touch if either of you spoke. He’s fighting with something, you’re sure of it.

“Din. My name is Din.” He shouldn’t tell you. He shouldn’t have taken his helmet off, he shouldn’t have even thought about it. Although his fear of losing everything he has is almost overwhelming, it’s nothing compared to this. The fear that you would never know him as he is, as he has always been. The relief that brings tears to his eyes when you don’t shy away, when you lean into him. Like you want him too. You shouldn’t hold his creed in your hands but he gives it willingly. Of course he does. He’s never really been able to deny you anything.

“Din.”

The smile is so clear in your voice as you whisper it back to him in the darkness. The way you say his name sounds like a song. A prayer. Hushed and reverent like it’s something sacred, something holy. He knows his name, his creed, his life, is safe on your tongue. Din lays you back on the bed, gently, wool of the ratty blanket soft against your skin.

Din. He’s nothing but gentle with you. Warm hands barely there as they pull layers of clothing from the both of you, stripping himself of his armour, of The Mandalorian. Until there’s just him. Just a man, no more and no less than anybody else. A man who wishes he hadn’t been so stubborn and dismissive of his own desires; wishes he’d given in to this, to you, sooner. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin for a second, like he could digest you one kiss at a time if he tried hard enough. Part of him doesn’t want to leave you, he wants to stay in this bed in the dark and just exist. Your body in his hands and your moans in his mouth and absolutely nothing else. Because outside of this bed, this room, he can pretend nothing else exists. He can pretend he doesn’t have a duty, he doesn’t have to answer to anyone but you. He needs you in between his teeth, on his tongue. He’s sure now that he’s never needed anything else quite so badly.

The emotion of it isn’t lost on you, it’s the first and last time you’ll ever be with him. He’ll go after this, wherever it is that he’s going, wherever home is for him. You don’t pretend otherwise.

You won’t get to have him, in any way you want to, after this. So you lose yourself in him, in everything he gives and takes on those threadbare blankets in your room. The taste of him gets committed to memory and you swear you’ll never eat again if it means his sweat stays on your tongue. You dig your nails hard into his shoulders, you hope he’ll look at them before they fade. Hope he’ll see the marks you gave him and know that he is wanted. He is so desperately wanted and he had no idea. You kiss him with reckless abandon, cards on the table in all but words. So he can know, so he can come back. If that’s what he wants.

You stay tangled with him for a long time. Spit cooled and sweat dried. You don’t want to move. You want to drench yourself in everything he is until you never feel without him again. You want everything to stay exactly as it is for as long as he’ll let it. 

“Take the Razor Crest. She’s old but virtually untraceable, and faster than anything else in that hangar. I think you can handle her.” You laugh lightly, tracing a finger over the ridge of his wrist where his arm is curled tight around your chest. Din wishes he could drown in the sound.

The Razor Crest. You’ll be a little sad to see it go, but at least you know it’ll be in good hands. You know that you’ve examined every inch, tightened every bolt, wired every connection. It’s the most you can guarantee him, that he’ll be safe in the ship you built with your own two hands. You can keep him safe even at a distance. 

He takes your advice, once you’re asleep. Once he’s convinced himself to pull away from your warmth and go back to the life he knows. The one without you. The Razor Crest looms over him in the empty hangar, but something about its presence is comforting when he knows you were the one to put her together. Din fires up the ship, and doesn’t look back.

“He took the fucking Crest!”

The shout from the corridor jolts you awake, significantly warmer than you should be, and you find your old shirt and sweatpants pulled back on your body. Din. The thought of him so carefully redressing you, his touch gentle enough not to wake you, makes your heart swell. It shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. With a heavy sigh, you flick the lights on from the panel by your bed and pull yourself to your feet. The door slides open with a wave of your hand by the door panel and you’re met with a very angry, very red-faced, Ran.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this would you, sweetheart?” He growls, and you know you look guilty. You’ve been freshly fucked and you know you look like it.  Even if you hadn’t been thoroughly rammed into your mattress the night before, it’s far too early for anyone to be shouting up a storm. The rest of the crew come filtering out, rubbing eyes and calling out accusations at each other. It’s enough to give you a headache.

Home is a funny concept. It could mean anywhere, really, it can change and morph into something else entirely. Something you might have thought of as being the place you belong can become unrecognisable in an instant. Something can change about it, and you might find it’s not as welcoming as it might have been, once upon a time.

Maybe a space station in the middle of nowhere isn’t a forever home after all.

You don’t want to stay here, chopping up ships on the payroll of a man you’re not sure you were ever meant to meet. There’s something bigger out there for you, somewhere out in the galaxy there’s lightning with your name on it.

I don't actually have access to my old taglist form anymore, so if you want on it just lmk and I'll make a list <;3

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Bounty (Din x F!reader smut)

SMUTTY ONE SHOT 18+ Minors DNI! Please!

Din x f!reader

Warnings: rough din, a plot if you squint hard enough, unprotected sex... its just pure smut idk what else to tell ya, but it does get sweet at the end w a lil aftercare

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I laid there in the street, propped up my my elbows.

Moonlight illuminating only the beskar clad man that towered over me. 

“I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold” he growled behind his helmet, hand clenched around the blaster in his holster. 

“Haven’t we already played this little game before, Mando” I smirked. 

We had. He’d been hunting me for a few days at least and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to what it’d be like to be caught by him. He cornered me earlier in a bar but I got away from him...somehow. Maybe he let me. Maybe he liked the chase.

He sighed and reached down, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and lifting me so that I was eye level with him. 

“No more games.”

With that I was put over his shoulder and my hands were shackled along with a piece of fabric shoved into my mouth to keep me quiet. 

At least I was getting one half of what I imagined a night with him would be like.

He walked with me on his shoulder all the way back to his ship, hand never leaving my ass to keep me still. He could’ve picked my legs to hold onto...but I wasn’t complaining. 

I was thrown with a little more force than expected, earning a grunt through my gag. 

He dragged my by my shackles, then he stopped and crouched down to my eye level.

“You’ve been a very bad girl. I think I’d like to teach you a lesson before putting you in the hands of another man.”

Fuck

His gloved hand was gentle on my face, causing a moan to escape from me. For that, I had earned a light slap. 

“No noise.”

I nodded in compliance and he lifted me once more, throwing me onto the small cot-like bed in the back of the ship.

I sat myself up, back against the headboard, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. Something about his armor turned me on more than anything and I could feel heat pool between my legs. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side with one knee now on the bed. 

I smirked as much as the gag allowed and shook my head ‘No’.

He chuckled, low, and it rumbled through his body, “What a fucking tease.”

Within seconds he flipped me onto all fours, ass in the air.

His fingers traced the area of my pussy through my tight, thin, pants.

I couldn’t help but moan and whimper, earning a hard smack to my ass.

That mark would be there in the morning

I heard a piece of armor fall to the ground and the seductive way he slowly undid his zipper. 

I’d fucking kill to see his cock right now

He rubbed his rock solid self across where he had just been touching, “already so wet for me, huh? You’ve probably dreamt of this before didn’t you, you little slut?”

I could only respond by moving my ass closer to him, trying to feel every inch of him. 

He tutted, mockingly, “So desperate for me.”

With those words he tore the fabric of my pants just enough to get access to what he wanted. 

A low moan and a genuine tone replaced his arrogant one, “what a pretty fucking pussy for me” he whispered mainly to himself. 

His rough gloved thumb found my clit, then dipped into my heat. 

I tried my best to be quiet for him, and whimpered with pleasure. 

With his other hand he grabbed my throat and pulled me up so that my back was on his chest, “Its okay, baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel now. No one could fuck you better than me, isn’t that right?”

He removed the fabric in my mouth and I nodded yes, all the air in my body felt as though it had been punched out of me. 

His grip tightened and his fingers inside of me quickened their pace, “I didn’t fucking hear you. Answer me when I ask you a question.”

I yelped, “Fuck...yes...I’m sorry.. fuck... no one could fuck me better than you.”

“Thats what I thought.”

He let me fall back, face first to the bed, only able to catch myself with my elbows, wrists still cuffed together. 

“Please” was all I could whimper, leaning further into his fingers, the gloves making them feel even bigger than they looked. 

“If you like my hands baby, then you’re gonna fucking love whats between my thighs.”

something in that arrogant tone made me want to rip off every piece of fabric that kept his skin from touching mine

“Fuck me... please, fuck me.”

“Well since you asked so sweetly.”

Without warning he was splitting me in half and didn’t give me even a second to adjust. 

He was bigger and longer than I could’ve imagined, or ever had inside of me. 

I screamed, burying my head in his pillows. 

“Thats my good girl. Fucking take it.”

He pace never faltered, even when he slid completely out of me only to slam back in. 

The sounds of my ass slapping against his armored thighs sent my body into overdrive and I couldn’t control the embarrassing noises that slipped their way past my gritted teeth. 

I groaned when he left me, my pussy clenching around nothing, missing the way he completely and utterly filled me. 

He flipped me onto my back, sat back on his haunches, and lifted me onto his lap. My shackled hands were slipped over his helmet, and my arms had no other choice but to be wrapped around his neck. 

“Oh, cyar'ika, those noises you make... don’t fucking stop.”

He got his wish once his cock found my opening once more and he used his hands to lift me up and crash me back down onto him.

I could feel my wetness on his armor, my thighs resting on his own as I sat on his lap, completely surrendering to pleasure.

The position and the heat coming off of his own body made my head spin, and he hit something in me that I didn’t even know existed. 

“Fuck...fuck I’m going to cum.” I moaned, now starting to roll my hips as he moved me along his shaft.

“Be a good girl and cum on my dick, I want to feel you.”

That was all I needed, now shuddering and seeing stars.

But he wasn’t done. 

“On your knees, precious.”

I complied instantly and he moved me to the floor to face him as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

I opened my mouth and let the drool run down from my tongue. I was still shaking, he didn't even give me time to come down from the high he just gave me.

He didn’t just want my mouth to suck him off, that was evident enough by the way he held my head in place and fucked my throat.  

The spit and gagging didn’t stop him and I felt him began to twitch and tighten in me, my tongue dragging across him as he grunted.

He pulled out quickly, painting my face with a satisfied groan of pleasure. 

Multiple ropes of hot cum found their way across my mouth and cheeks, and I closed my eyes, humming with content. 

I opened them once more and watched the last of it leak from his swollen tip. 

“So pretty with me all over you face.”

He wiped my face with the fabric that was still wet from being stuffed in my mouth earlier. 

The Mandalorian put his elbows on his thighs and leaned closer to my face as I sat, still on my knees.

“I might just keep you. Who knew you were such a good fuck?” He said, still raspy from the moans.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Mando?” I teased. 

He just hummed, agreeing, but too cocky to answer me in earnest. 

He undid the shackles on my wrist and I soothed them by rubbing my hands over them. 

When I tried to stand, my knees buckled and my legs were still shaking from pleasure. 

He caught me by my waist and moved me to the bed. 

It smelled like him and I was beginning to feel more than just the pure animalistic sexual attraction to him. 

He pulled me onto his chest, now laying next to me and patting my hair.

I liked his soft side. 

[rhodesrider]

Lil Kitten

Dom!Roman R x Pet!Sub! Fem Reader

NSFW! 18+! MINORS DNI!

Warnings: Pet play session, inhuman mannerisms, Oral Sex, degrading, creampie, nipple play

Word Count: 894

~

Roman sighed as he got home from the gym, he tossed his bag in the chair letting his hair down but soon heard a small bell. He smiles some knowing it’s his baby girl hiding around the house somewhere. He got on his knee and made kissy noises to get her out of hiding, seeing some hair pop out. She peeked from behind the entrance to the living room and bit her lip waving her ass around giving her tail movement. “There’s my lil kitten~” he moved foreword some but she soon went away hiding. Usually Roman isn’t a fan for playing after a workout but when it’s his baby he makes some exceptions.

Her pet-playing it’s honest adorable. She told him probably the second date of what she was into. He was shocked because she seemed so shy.

“Oh I have a few kinks. Breeding kink, Voice kink, Dumbifacation, Pet-Play ect.-“

He wanted to understand the Pet Play one more. She told that it’s just animal training for a human. She likes to be a cat. She felt embarrassed talking about it but Roman encouraged her to talk more about it.

After that they did a few sessions, aftercare and he would take her home. Most of the night she would just spend the night with him like today. He went towards the kitchen to get some goldfish snacks shaking the bag. Her head popped up immediately and her little bell jiggled. “There she is, quick come to daddy before I put them away sweetie.” He smiles taunting her with the crackers. She quickly went over on all fours and looked at him reaching for the bag pouting. “Awwww you just want the treat you don’t miss daddy?” He pouted getting to her level and playing with trapped hand that were in mittens, a pair of gloves that make it hard to use your hands. He took some in his hands and fed her by palm and she took the snacks making a purring noise, which is down pact it sounds like a cat almost.

“Ok baby let’s watch a movie with daddy ok?” He smiled picking her up with no hesitation and taking the bag with him.

She laid on his lap some while being fed here and there crackers as they watched a movie, but she had other plans. She rubbed up against his chest some pouting a bit. “What’s wrong baby?” He asked scratching under her chin. Her arch in her back started to form as her ass went in the air some and she licked under his belly button making him jump some. He smiled seeing she wanted some attention. “Ok ok baby but let’s hurry ok? I forgot when my cousins are coming over.” She licked his cheek as thank you and he pulled down his sweatpants, his large fat dick springing up making him sigh it not needing to be restrained. She got on her knees curious about his throbbing cock and started to give it small licks around his shaft and balls. He just laid back biting his lip.

She soon took his sensitive tip in her warm mouth sucking him off. He moaned some feeling her slobber and drool tending to his dick. “That’s it baby, fuck such a good girl~” he praised. “Let me get that sweet throat some baby.” He tapped the back of her head and she responded removing her hands. He soon thrusted up in her throat shaking and fucked her narrow slut mouth. He growled low taking his dick out as it was covered in spit and drool. The poor kitten panted, her tongue out drooling ready to be used. “Such a good girl~” He smiled and grabbed her collar, taking off his pants fully and guiding her upstairs.

He laid her down carefully on the bed and guided her to arch her back, pulling at her tail making her hiss and pout. He chuckled and rubbed the mushroom tip on her wett pussy. She bit her lip needing this. He slowly went in groaning holding on to her as he started to pump feeding her every inch. She squealed a bit moaning out loud trying to get herself together trying to get use to his size again. “Fuck baby my little kitten got tight again. Looks like imma have to stretch that pussy out huh?” He helped her arch deepen and started to drill her groaning. “F-fuck~” She moaned out and she rubbed her clit already close. “Fuck this pussy is so good baby~” he moaned and soon went deeper. She cried out soon shaking and cumming on his dick. “Awwww did my baby get that first nut off?” He ask smacking her ass. She nodded riding out her orgasm. “Good girl, let’s help daddy out ok?”

He held on to her as she rode his dick holding on to the bed frame, he rubbed and sucked on her nipples and his dick was barred inside her. “Does daddy feel good baby girl?” She nodded as he soon held on to her collar making her bounce more. “F-fuck daddy yes~” she moaned out grinding his dick against her spot. “Daddy is gonna fill his babygirl up~” he moaned as his dick throbbed. Soon he started to cum groaning, she kissed his lightly as she rode him milking his dick of every drop, some of it leaking out her pussy. He sighed holding her close for a while taking in the moment and smiled. “You did such a good job today baby.” She giggled and kissed him more. “Wanna get cleaned up and go out?” She asked. “Sure pumpkin.” He carried her to the bathroom to get the shower ready for the night, excited about their evening date.