#lol i like to imagine that when dark pit or pit gets wet they look like those kittens that are drenched w milk

[alfalfaguy]

pandora technically being dark pits parent/gaurdian ??? yes anyways i like to think that she is terrible at taking care of children so she just lets pittoo do stupid shit like putting a metal fork in the microwave or smth

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Inked

Pairing: tattoo artist!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, cum play, dirty talk, swearing

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77​ @mrg-jjh (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)

A/N: i’ll never get over Jaehyun with tattoos. Also I know very little about tattoos nor have I ever been to a tattoo shop (this was based on a story my friend told me lol) so please excuse any inconsistencies. Also excuse my unoriginal title lol

The little bell over the door tinkled softly as you entered the shop, much more warm and inviting than you expected it to be. You had been nervous coming in for your first tattoo, but your friend’s boyfriend, Yuta, had highly recommended the place so you decided to check it out.

You had expected the place to be dark, grungy, maybe some loud noise music playing, but it was quite the opposite. There were soft leather couches lining one wall, a calming zen water fountain in one corner, and a curtained off area where you assumed the work was done. You stepped further into the shop, noticing a soothing lavender scent, and just as you were inhaling and appreciating it, the tattoo artist came out from behind the curtained area.

You were a little taken aback by his appearance, which seemed to be out of place in such a serene, almost spa-like setting. He was wearing full black leather from head to toe, his black hair slicked back, tattoos adorning his neck. You couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the work, stepping a little closer to get a better view.

“You like it?” he asked, and when you looked up at his face he was smirking at you. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten, and at that angle his face was stunning. He had beautiful cheekbones, and a perfect jawline, lips full and smirking at you, eyes twinkling looking down at you. You cleared your throat and stepped back, embarrassed at being caught staring, both at his tattoos, and at his face.

“Um, yes,” you responded nervously, looking around at the shop instead of his face. “I, uh, had an appointment?”

“Ah, yes, you’re Y/N?” he asked, tilting his head at you, the smirk never leaving his face. You nodded, and he clapped his hands together, “Perfect! You’re my last appointment of the day! I’m Jaehyun,” he extended his hand and you shook it.  “Come with me.” He led you behind the curtain and closed it off, motioning for you to sit in the chair.

“So what are we doing today?” he asked, getting his tools ready. You explained what you wanted, and where you wanted it, and he just nodded along and when you were situated he got to work. It was a little embarrassing because you had to pull your leggings down a bit and hike your shirt up so he could get access to the area on your hip where you wanted it, but you figured as a tattoo artist he’d probably seen it all. You turned your head away anyway, knowing it would be more embarrassing if you could see his face.

“I’m gonna start now, let me know if anything’s uncomfortable,” he stated, and you heard the sound of the tattoo gun starting up.

You weren’t afraid of needles, you had a pretty high pain tolerance so you figured you’d be okay with it, so when the needle touched your skin you were pleased to notice it didn’t bother you too much. What did start to concern you however, was the cord of the gun, which had settled between your legs, and was vibrating.

The strength of the vibration wasn’t very high, definitely not as high as your vibrator could get, but it was just enough to keep you on a very low level of arousal. It didn’t help that you had a very good view of your tattoo artist’s ridiculously attractive face, not to mention his bare arms working on you since he’d taken his jacket off. You couldn’t help but admire the ink on his neck, but the arousal you were feeling took those thoughts to unholy levels. You wanted to know what it felt like to taste him, to suck on his neck and add some bluish-purplish marks to that ink. You admired the way his white t-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, and you wondered what it would be like to hang onto them while he fucked you. The muscles in his arms flexed as he worked, and you imagined what it would be like to be held up by them, or maybe pinned against the wall.

“What do you think so far?” he asked, breaking you from your fantasies. You could barely look at what he’d done, your eyes already starting to glaze over, so you just nodded weakly. He went back to work, the vibrations continuing, and you could definitely feel your underwear dampening. You shut your eyes and bit your lip, trying not to think any more dirty thoughts about your tattoo artist, but the cord had settled directly over your clit, and now you knew you were in trouble. You imagined it was him working on your clit, thumbing it, or licking it harshly with his tongue, and you could actually feel the knot in the pit of your stomach forming. Your hands gripped the seat as you felt your orgasm building, your heart beating out of your chest as you tried your hardest to keep still. Just as the knot was about to burst, the gun turned off.

“Are you okay?”

You opened your eyes to see Jaehyun staring at you, one eyebrow raised. You hadn’t realized you were panting, your chest heaving, and you tried your best to calm your breathing. The cord, even though it was off, still rested over your clit and you were still very sensitive, so you reached down and pushed it off. He watched your action curiously but it wasn’t long before he put two and two together.

“Hmm,” he said, that smirk coming back to his face, “what was this naughty cord doing to you,” he mused, taking a hold of the cord and tracing it down to where it lay between your legs. He must have spotted something interesting because the smirk on his face turned into a full on grin, a naughty one.

“Y/N, are you making a mess of my chair?”

Horrified, you looked between your legs to see the huge damp spot on your leggings, the moisture having transferred to the vinyl of the chair. You wanted to disappear, covering your face with your hands, but he only chuckled, getting up from his stool and standing over you, putting his hands on the armrests of your chair so that his body was caging you in.

“I don’t normally charge clients for damages like this,” he started, his tone serious but his voice low, “but for you I might have to make an exception.” His eyes raked over your body, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. You got even wetter as you watched him, his face so close to yours, his scent overpowering your senses.

“How much do I owe?” you stuttered, your breath coming out in short gasps. He watched your chest heave, shaking his head in awe at how aroused you were.

“You owe me a touch,” he said, and you nodded. His hand then went to your thigh and moved upwards, and you inhaled sharply when his thumb got very close to your heat. “And a kiss,” he continued, staring at your lips. You nodded again and he moved in, crashing his lips against yours. You moaned into his mouth, his lips were like heaven, and when he added his tongue you pulled him down so that he was on top of you, craving the friction and the feeling of his body on yours.

His hand moved to cup your pussy and he groaned, breaking from your lips to suck on your neck. “You’re so fucking wet,” he breathed against your neck, “I’m gonna have to charge you extra.”

“Yes! Anything!” you moaned, you wanted him so bad you were ready to sell your soul.

You could feel him smiling against your neck as he reached down and pulled your leggings off, then he rubbed your slit over your soaked panties, making you grip his shoulders and moan loudly.

“So fucking wet,” he whispered to himself, before he took a hold of your panties and tore them off your body. You yelped in shock, but then his hand was back, on your bare pussy now, just holding it there, while he brought his face very close to yours, his eyes dark and hooded as he looked at you.

“Ready to pay up?” he asked, breath fanning your face as his eyes scanned your form, half-naked underneath him.

“Fuck, yes!” you cried out, and your hands went to his leather pants, fumbling to undo them. When you got them down you tugged at his boxers, and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his cock, springing back up against his abdomen as you released it. You looked up at him and he smiled before he pushed your shoulders back against the chair, pulling your legs towards him so that your ass was perched on the very edge.

“I think this is a fair price to pay,” he whispered in your ear, and then his cock was sliding into you. He went slow at first, the initial stretch making you gasp out loud.

“Holy shit, so fucking tight,” he groaned, his hands grabbing onto your hips so he could pace himself. You could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, as he tried desperately not to just ram into you. When he was all the way in he gave you a moment to adjust to his size, then he made one experimental thrust.

“Fuck!” you screamed, unable to hold back anymore, fisting your hands into his t-shirt and pulling him down for a heated kiss. He started to fuck into you then, encouraged by your tongue in his mouth and how you moved your hips to match him thrust for thrust. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed throughout the shop, drowning out the sound of the water fountain, only serving to heighten your arousal. The bruising pace he’d set was pushing you towards your climax, and you ran your hands under his shirt to dig your fingernails into his back.

“You ready to come, baby?” he growled, digging his fingers into your hips and thrusting even harder,  “Give it to me then.”

The coil in your stomach snapped and you let out a hoarse cry as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy squeezing his cock.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned, releasing into you. He pumped once into your pussy, and then pulled back until only his tip was inside you, grabbing a hold of his cock and pumping the rest of his cum so that it filled you and then spilled out, mixing with your own slick and dripping down, right onto the seat below you.

“Shit, baby, you made another mess,” he grinned, looking down and admiring what he’d done, “you owe me another one now.”

[itsbeenahellofayear]

the night's still young

Summary: Scenes from a hazy summer night. Or, getting high with Auston.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. Tiny bit of fluff at the end. Drug use. Language.

Author's Note: This could take place in the same universe as "still ain't got no rest" - I'd imagine it taking place in like... July.

This was harder for me to put together, mostly because i started with the smut and had to work backwards to make it not just pure porn lol

Thanks for all your comments about the first Auston fic I wrote, it motivates me like crazy xo

-

x

-

You love the long summer nights, when it’s the offseason, when responsibilities ebb away, and where you can spend the hours getting high with Auston outdoors round a fire pit.

Everything is warm around the edges, everything seems a little bit funnier. Mitch is telling a story about something you can't fully follow - but you laugh nonetheless.

As another joint passes around the group, you lean against Auston's side a bit more, craving the feeling of him, chasing the feeling. He looks down at you, eyes dark, pupils blown, reflecting the flames - you get lost for a minute or five.

You're feeling everything just a little bit more.... intensely right now. But also feeling everything less like individual sensations than one long drawn out wave of feeling.

After a little bit, the feeling settles down to between your legs, making you clench your thighs together where you sit beside him, a blanket thrown over your legs to ward off the chill of the night.

Auston notices.

The blanket makes it easy for him to slide a hand between your legs and press down making you almost gasp with the pressure.

He taps his hand down a few times, watching you squirm out if the corner of his eye

You dislodge him, and jump up to drag him inside

-

You can barely make it back the the room you are sharing in this chalet in Muskoka before Auston has you backed up against the wall and you feel him all around you.

There's nothing you can think of in that moment other than his lips on yours, so you stretch up to close the gap, but he pulls back.

"Tell me what you want," he says, low and teasing.

You whimper a bit, he knows exactly what his voice does to you.

“Fuck Auston, I just need you, I can’t-“

He laughs.

He takes one of his huge hands and tilts your chin up, angling your head just the way he wants, and finally his mouth is on yours.

You know you moan into the kiss, but you don't care what you sound like right now. You just want more of Auston.

It's a lazy kiss, but there's definitely a heat to it too. You tangle your hands in his too-long hair, just trying to feel every part of him.

It's not enough.

“Bed" you break away to gasp.

-

The two of you got naked in record time - this isn't the first time you've gotten high together, and it always hits you both like this - the ceaseless need for each other.

Auston settles himself back on the bed as you crawl between his legs. God you love how big his thighs are, and part of you just wants to grind your core against one until you cum just like that but right now your one track mind has one goal and it's the very erect cock in front of you.

You lean down and lick a stripe up the side before wrapping your lips around the head. He lets out a low groan and when you look up his eyes have fluttered closed and he just looks wrecked. He tangles one of his hands in your long hair and you groan around him.

You love Auston's dick, love having him at your mercy like this, but you also want so much more and you are aching with the need to have him inside you. You're about to pull off of him when he pulls your head back for you.

"Love your mouth babe," he says, voice extra low and raspy, "but I need to be inside you"

His eyes watch you, pupils so blown in the dim light that they look black as the night outside.

You just climb up and sink yourself down onto him - you're not about to make him beg. Not this time anyway.

You feel the stretch and it just feels so intense and full and just so much but it's all you've wanted since you took your first hit of the joint. Feeling Auston inside you, feeling him thrust up to meet you as you grind down against him, feeling the friction of your breasts on his chest as he holds you close against him. Feeling his mouth against the side of your neck, teasing and then biting and then pressing little open mouths kisses.

God you love how you fit together.

-

You're on your hands and knees, ass up in the air, and his cock is working in and out of your dripping pussy while he slides his thumb across your other hole. He spits on your ass and rubs his thumb through it and dips it into your ass as you scream out.

He tugs at your rim and works his thumb into you. It feels so good and you just want more moremoremore and he just laughs and snaps his hips a bit harder and swaps his thumb for a lubed up finger instead.

You can't even register the sound you're making in the moment, every part of you alive with sensation. Your nipples dragging across the sheets, your right hand busy rubbing your clit.

“Fuckfuckfuck I'm gonna cuuuum”

“Cum for me, baby”

He fucks into you relentlessly, working his finger into your ass and you just shatter apart, screaming his name and just getting pushed through waves of pleasure that keep coming as he just keeps going.

Shit baby, he groans out, folding forward over you to hold you close as he pulses inside you. You feel everything so much and you just need to be in this moment, so full of him, so full.

-

Things are still hazy once you've cleaned up a bit and you're both curled up in bed away from the one awkward wet spot.

As always, Auston is on his side, his limbs wrapped around you. (It's either you or a pillow so you'd rather it be you.)

You love how things feel when you're high but you really love how your skin seems to buzz extra wherever the two of you are touching. You feel him relaxing around you, and you just ride the feeling.

“Hey Aus,” you say.

“Hmm?”

“Love you.”

He stills. Then his fingers lightly stroke your arm where they're resting. The skin turns to goosebumps.

"Love you too.”

[kaypeace21]

Analyzing the 5 plays in this drama club poster .From the bts pics of stranger things 4.

So... some of ya’ll know I'm going through the st s4 films given to us by the official st twitter + the films reffed in the show itself or mentioned by the Duffers in interviews .

So I decided to look at the plays mentioned here. Because even if we don't see the monologues in the show directly - the Duffers wouldn't name drop anything unless it inspired them in some way. Similar to films name dropped in the show. Tw : for some dark themes .

This is just a quick little analysis I decided to do since we probably won't get any new st content today (3/22). Nothing too deep. Just mentioning things that caught my interest especially cause these plays have a lot of narrative connections to the st s4 movies I've been watching.

Invitation to a march (Authur laurents)

Reminds me of the stancy/jancy love triangle. "A young woman is having second thoughts about doing the right thing and marrying a respectable , rich, kind, young man with good prospects.By way of a prewedding diversion, this woman becomes interested in the passionate but poor and entirely unsuitable son of a local landlord.Basically, the plot concerns the efforts of Norma Brown to choose between a conventional fiance who "puts her to sleep" but is wealthy (like what her own mother did) or go for this new-poor guy. The play is principally interested in how this youthful love triangle affects the three mothers involved (whether the kids like it or not)

12th night (Shakespeare)

 - viola (el) wrongly assumes a family member (hopper) is dead. She dresses up as a man named 'cesario'. A girl named Olivia falls for 'cesario' (violet dressed as a man). "Finally, when 'Cesario' and Sebastian (violet's twin brother: assumed to have drowned - Will) appear in the presence of Olivia there is more wonder and confusion at their physical similarity. Taking Sebastian for 'Cesario', Olivia asks him to marry her, and they are secretly married in a church. Cough if Olivia is 'straight' cause she fell for Viola (as a doppleganger dressed like her twin brother).Mike being into el who multiple characters in s1 said looked like a boy and specifically like Will is...suspish and a hint he's not straight lol. just like Olivia they're both into guys . plus, this play just has a butt load of love triangles (ugh i hated that aspect). There was also romantically coded letters (which was in the s4 films) . One character is also thrown into an insane asylum and framed as 'insane'.'Pretending that Malvolio is insane, they lock him up in a dark chamber. Feste visits him to mock his insanity'. We all know the psych hospital will be narratively important- talked about it more here.

The seagull (Anton Chekhov-russian)

similar to how I believed s4 will show m*#even already broken up since the months between s3-4 : act 3 (s3) ends with Nina begging for one last chance to be with Trigorin before he leaves/moves away. They kiss and make plans to meet again in Moscow.And in act 4 there's a timeskip where it shows they've been broken up for a long time between acts- and its established they never actually loved eachother. Do i even have to spell out why this parallels the m*#even ending in s3? There is also a play within the play (this is common in a lot of the st films- they have plays- or a story within a story- which illustrate certain themes or emotions of the characters within said film : blackswan, children of paradise, highschool musical, Rushmore, book of Henry, welcome to marwen, never ending story, romancing the stone, wet hot American summer, etc).The play is Konstantin's latest attempt at creating a dense symbolist work. There is also alot of love triangles in the seagull. TW!: for se#ual ab*se/su*cidal thoughts/ inc*st (here and in other play segments). The seagull motif reminds me a lot of Jonathan's rabbit story.Konstantin romantically into Nina shows up to give her a gull that he has shot. Nina is confused and horrified . Trigorin sees the gull that Konstantin has shot and muses to Nina on how he could use it as a subject for a short story: "The plot for the short story: a young girl lives all her life on the shore of a lake. She loves the lake, like a gull, and she's happy and free, like a gull. But a man arrives by chance, and when he sees her, he destroys her, out of sheer boredom. Like this gull."  This immediately reminded me of jon's rabbit story and some of the movies on the s4 list . Like in forrest gump- Jenny (who is poor) was se*ually ab*sed as a very young girl by her father. As a child she runs away into a field-away from her alcoholic father yelling at her -there she prays that she can "be a bird so I can fly far far away" .

Jenny as an adult struggles with this unresolved trauma- being with ab*sive partners, doing dr*gs, and having su*cidal thoughts . She as an adult when contemplating su*icide, jokes 'you think i can fly like a bird ?' while looking down at a bridge.God-i'm worried about jonathan (Jenny was also a musician sort of like jon). In another s4 movie example ' mystic river ' :(in the 80s) a preteen baseball playing boy is r*ped by men in the woods. He later says he wishes he could become an undead monster to not feel the pain of that experience - cause quote " if I'm not human anymore maybe the pain will stop" (Will) . slightly off topic but he also has another personality, imagines a alternate word that dissappears when he turns his head. And as a less direct animal parallel to the play - the boy from the film also imagined his perpetrators as monsters and wolves to cope.In 'getout' the photographer character sees a dead deer in the woods and it represents a parent/his own childhood tra*ma relating to his past. similarly in 'prince of tides' the 2 siblings as kids were ra*ed by men. The older brother remembered it and the younger sibling developed DID (so didn't remember but she would draw wolves- as the perpetrators/villains in her picture stories she created . In the film they also had an ab*sive dad and were very poor. She also tried k*ling herself multiple times-but started to get better after remembering the source of her pain and trauma.  There is also the theme of multiple attempted su*cides in the play- and the play ends with yet another attempt- and the audience is left unaware of the artist's fate at the end of the play.

The tempest (Shakespeare)

Prospereo - (the perceived antagonist) is a wizard with monstrous looks, storm powers , and ability to create monster-dogs

He wants revenge on a man who tried ra*ing his family member & revenge on his other family member who wronged him years ago. I mean... pretty much my did theory.But in the end.Prospero decides to show his enemies the mercy that they did not show him twelve years earlier. He tells Ariel to bring the men to him, he will restore their sanity and then renounce magic forever.Prospero breaks the spell that the men are under .

Diary of a scoundrel (Alexander Ostrovsky-Russian)

-  I suppose this could loosely relate to Jonathan? Glumov, is a young man from an impoverished family lacking status seeking entrance into society's pampered class. A 19th-century Russian scoundrel must scheme his way out of his meager life in a small apartment -whatever it takes.He has a quick mind and some talent for seeing through the hypocrisies of people around him ( Jonathan does make a lot of social critiques about society). That gives him some advantages. A tale of one man's mission to finagle his way into upper-class society and find a cushy job. Set in 1874, this social comedy follows Glumov, a Russian youth who begins his ambitious ascent to social esteem. He progresses by wit, guile and rhetoric. Pitting one stupid person against another, he soon gains his ends. To reach these goals, Glumov will lie, flatter, and cater to the vanities of the wealthy. Unable to contain his disgust with his victims, Glumov decides to relieve his unvoiced satirical comments by recording his schemes in a diary. But he is tripped up by his uncle's wife, to whom he has made passionate love on his way to success. At the end of the play, his diary is stolen and his duplicity exposed, but he can nevertheless suceeds. The author is much more critical about the high society itself than about the main character, so the play keeps attracting generations of directors by opening possibilities for political criticism while also avoiding naming names of the current rulers.The play's aim was to overthrow bourgeois tradition and establish a class-conscious art called eccentricism giving a deliberately comic portrayal of reality.

I suppose I notice some possible commonalities-  besides s3 critiquing the wealthy/capitalism in comedic ways . jonathan since s1 has worried about his family's finances / had some resentment toward the rich . In some of the s4 movies ‘orphan’ & ‘ girl interrupted’ someone reads their diary out loud to get at them (in girl interrupted the winona character’s diary even had critiques of her new friends).  Alot of movies also have someone (usually a teen/young adult) making a documentary about their life -which could narratively replace said diary? A few movies have a poor guy adjusting to snobby rich social circles (or being poor and then getting money)- titanic, kingsmen, karate kid, the craft , godfather,  wardogs,into the spiderverse,flashdance, and many others . And movies like wardogs has a poor-young-character do shady things to finacially support his family . There’s also that whole uncle’s wife thing- which makes me uncomfortable for obvious reasons (but I’m just thinking of Lonnie’s creepy gf who was into him). A few movies had the guy’s step mom innappropriately hit on him- orange county & you got mail. And him trying to avoid her advances. Or...not to mention ... it may be a problematic coincidence /trope. But in enter the void -the guy who needs to finacially support his sibling/ does dr*gs -hooks up with his dr*g dealing friend’s married mom (who would give him money).  Or in gilbert grape- the poor teen-who has to finacially support his siblings/single mom-has his endgame relationship be a girl his own age. But before that he h*oked up with a married woman -who would give him money. Don’s plum -young film guy-propositioned by older female film director (for dream job). Not even mentioning the other films that have the guy hooking up with toxic older women (like ‘the graduate’). Or analyze this-where the therapist accuses him of having an Oedipus complex (not touching that one... but the guy in ‘enter the void’ a 100% had one). It’s possible those movies were just- inspo for s3?  A coincidence? Or s3 was foreshadowing for this in s4- but unlike s3 it will accurately be played as wrong  and a sign of Jonathan recreating past tra*ma caused by Lonnie (cough like the photos) /being desperate for money. And not played ‘comedically’ like how it mostly was in s3. But shown as self destructive  (for Jon) and immoral on the Woman’s end. Like... Billy and Jon are character foils. Both are older siblings into rock music, with ab*sive dads who shoved them into walls. Both lose it (and beat steve to a pulp when Steve accidentally triggers their daddy issues). In s3 it’s established womanizer Billy has mommy issues, than he tries ho*king up with someone his mom’s age, and the characters ref ‘back to the future ‘ and Steve incorrectly says it’s about “alex p keaton trying to bang his mom.” This could illustrate his subconscious issues with parental figures/adults cause of Lonnie’s  possible past se*ual ab*se . One film the friend even says to the guy “you don’t have friends!” guy b: i have friends! him:  no you have acquaintances! ADMIT IT! YOU’RE AFRAID OF MEN!I mean-Jonathan liked Nancy- but he initially hooked up with her cause he wanted to prove he didn’t have ‘trust issues’ from his dad. Also it’s prob a bit of a reach (and maybe a coincidence)- but the fact Murray in the same breath compares Steve (Nancy’s then bf) and Lonnie  ... uh... if you think too long about it ... it’s very sinister .  Especially because in s3: muray tells Joyce  that despite her wanting to be with a nice guy, she’s curious about “the brute” Hopper despite him reminding her of a past “bad relationship”(aka Lonnie). Like- yeah connect some dots.  Quite a few films (other than forrest gump) also have the character who (as a kid) was  r*ped by their dad/parent-  begin to do dr*gs/be pr*miscuous as adults since they never learned to properly cope with their trauma (’girl with the dragon tattoo’,  ‘black swan’, and ‘magnolia’). Unfortunately the whole relative doing such things to kid-relatives is in at least 30+ movies. 

Personally, i would be MUCH happier if Jon had a age appropriate romance- and had not a single creepy adult near him. A few movies actually imply Lonnie gets yet another ‘new model’  replacing his gf in her 20s with a new gf- who is ‘barely l*gal” and just turned 18. so there’s that possibility as well- that she’s jonathan’s age.I just want Jonathan-happy &safe. GOD. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

[catxsnow]

DREAMING OF YOU D.W.

Request: hiii can i request an angsty older damian fic where he and the reader broke up but are still very much in love? maybe based out of the song "dream a little dream of me"? the ending is totally up to you!

Warning: angst

A/N: Lol I’ve been so preoccupied with the Halloween prompts I keep forgetting I have requested fics in my drafts. Anyways, I don’t know if this was exactly what you wanted but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.2k

Damian Wayne was the best thing to ever happen to you.

Damian came into your life when you were at your lowest. He was the one that helped you to climb out of that never ending pit that you were stuck in. He made you see the good in the world and that you could still find your own happiness. In the end of it all, you found happiness in him.

It was the little things that you found joy in again. Waking up early enough to see the sunrise. Ice cream on hot summer days. A walk in the park with Titus. Fresh produce from a farmers market. It was those things that drove you to see the light again, all because Damian was willing to stick by your side.

You started planning your life again. Finishing your last two years of your university degree. Buying a new apartment that wasn’t in the slums of Gotham. Reconnecting with family members that you hadn't talked with in months - some even years. You wanted a fresh start, and you had created one.

Damian got you back on track without even realizing it. He gave you hope for the future. Life with him was perfect. You couldn't imagine a future without him. He bled his heart and soul into your relationship, just as you did. Damian was the best thing to ever happen to you. 

Until he wasn't.

The secrets, the lies, it caused fights between you. Damian hid part of his life from you and you couldn't understand why he was being so protective of it. You had opened yourself completely to him, and he couldn't be bothered to do the same. He loved you, there was no doubt about that. It was whether or not he devoted himself as much as you ever did.

You began questioning your entire relationship with him. How much of it was built on his lies? What even were his lies? The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you had only scratched to surface of who Damian really was. You didn't know anything about him, and he didn't want to tell you. He couldn’t.

Which led to the hard decision of whether or not you were willing to keep a relationship that was so one sided. How could you love someone when they were only willing to show a certain side of themselves? The answer: you couldn't. You loved Damian, you would forever. But it came down to the ultimatum of showing the real him or leaving.

Apparently Damian never loved you as much as you thought he did. He was gone by morning.

For weeks your dreams were plagued of him, mundane dreams that felt so real. Him waking you up for the sunrise that shone so perfectly into your window. Instead, when you opened your eyes, grey clouds were all that you could see. The days weren't nearly as pretty without Damian there to share it's beauty with you.

The bed was no longer filled with love and warmth. It was cold, you dreaded getting into it. His side was empty, though his smell still lingered no matter how many times you tried washing it away. Titus' fur would be found in your blankets and a random toy stuck under your couch. He probably missed you more than Damian did.

You swore you saw Damian everywhere after your breakup. At the drive through of your favourite fast food place, the park where you used to sit together, hell you thought you saw him at the grocery store. Damian didn't like grocery shopping, he never went. You felt delusional with seeing him everywhere.

At night when you were alone on the streets, you felt an eerily similar presence as him following you. Sometimes at night that same feeling would draw you towards your window and stare out of it in hopes to see his familiar green eyes. You were disappointed every time.

You never wanted to break up with him. You hoped so desperately that you could have worked things out with him. He was perfect for you, and you to him. Being without him was killing you inside. You missed his love, his smile, his touch, even that adorable little tick he had. TT. You hated when you picked it up and continued to use it without him.

You didn't know it, but Damian was a bigger mess without you.

He missed you more than he ever missed anyone or anything in his life. At home he was quiet, only keeping company with his pets. He refused conversation with his father or Alfred. Dick couldn’t even get through to him. Being back in the manor was something he didn't imagine himself doing. Yet, here he was.

His night life became more violent. He didn't have a fear of holding back his punches anymore because you would never find out his secret. His fucking secret. That was the reason that you were out of his life. Knowing that he was Robin? He didn't want to taint your beautiful life with that.

More times than not he would watch over you. Whether it was when you were walking home or at your apartment. He just needed to know that you were okay. Okay and alive were two very different things. Damian learned that very quickly. Without you, he wasn't sure if he would be okay ever again.

Damian craved your kiss. He didn't realize how lucky he was to even have a small peck here and there until it was taken away from him. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to rush to you and tell you how much he missed you. To hold you in his arms one last time and kiss you until your legs gave out.

He  had dreams of you at night. Dreams of you laying in his arms with a smile on your face. You would tell him about your day and how much you loved him. He felt the warmth of you until the moment he woke up. Then, it was nothing but coldness. A dark, lonely room without any sign of you.

You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

It was that moment when he decided that he had made the biggest mistake of his life. If he cared about you enough, he should have been willing to let you decide if you wanted to stay in his life after knowing his secret. If he wanted you to be with him, then you were going to have to learn it one day.

It seemed easier to hurt you now, than it would have to be hurt by you after knowing everything he had done. Damian took the easy way out. He should have fought for you, trusted you with his secrets. He couldn't let you escape him, not while there was still a strand of hope.

Damian launched himself out of bed. It was nearing two in the morning but he didn't care. He needed to see you right now. He raced across the city on his cycle, passing all the streets in a blur. The way from his father's home to yours was etched into his brain. He could have made it there with his eyes closed if he so wanted to.

The kickstand on his bike was barely pulled out and his helmet thrown to the ground. Damian ran to your doorstep and feverishly knocked on your door. He was most likely to wake you, but it was worth it. He was ready to spill his heart and soul out to you and plead for you to take him back.

To his surprise, you opened the door relatively fast. You looked so effortlessly beautiful. A pair of shorts on a bag shirt - his shirt. Your hair was sopping wet and it was clear that you had just gotten out of the shower. Bags were under your eyes and you looked like you hadn't slept since your break up.

You stood there, mouth agape, unsure of what the hell he was doing at your door step at two in the morning on a Wednesday. It was raining out, Damian's hair matched your own. He was soaked to the bone and his clothes clung to him. A desperate look was on his face.

"Damian..." You breathed out. He looked like a wreck. Creases around his eyes that had never been there before were evident. His hands trembled at his sides - though that might have just been from the cold. "What're you doing here?"

"I needed to see you," Damian started. His heart clenched at the sight of you. "I needed to apologize for everything that I did, for keeping things from you. I was so scared that if you knew the truth about me that I would lose you."

"You lost me anyways, Damian," You shook your head. He was the one that decided to walk out on you after you were willing to put in the work. It was Damian that made that decision, he lost you because he choose to. All of this was his fault and only his fault - the secrets he kept, the choices he made.

"Please, please just let me explain everything," Damian begged. He didn't know if he could ever live with himself if you turned him away in this moment. "If you want me to leave after, I will. You'll never have to see or hear from me again, just... I can't go on anymore knowing that there's someway that I can try to fix this. That there’s still a chance of getting you back."

You crossed your arms over your chest, debating whether or not you were willing to be hurt by him again. Damian was the love of your life, he would always be the love of your life. Letting him explain himself too you, that was either going to be the ticket he needed back into your life, or the closure you finally needed. Or something far worse.

So, maybe mistakenly, you opened the door wider to let Damian in. Your home hadn't changed much in the weeks that he was gone. It was messier, but otherwise identical. Several picture frames of the two of you were turned down, but not put away. His hoodie that he left behind was still strewn across the back of the chair.

He thanked you as you handed him a towel. Damian sat on your coffee table directly across from your spot on the couch. He paused for a moment, wondering where to begin and how far back he needed to go. If you were going to take him back after that night, you would deserve to know everything.

For now, he started with his arrival in Gotham City all those years ago.

He told of you his life with his father, his brothers. The teams that he had been on and the struggles that he had been through. Damian told you of his hardships, his dreams, his failures. He told you of the times that he had lost all hope and the times that you had given some back to him.

Damian told you everything there was to know about his life as Robin.

By the end of it, you were in tears. All those times that he lied to you about what he was going or where he was going, his 'business trips' for his father, they were all because he was risking his life to be Robin. Damian was a hero, and you were too oblivious to even notice. You were so focused on his lies that you didn't want to see why he was doing so. Everything he did was to protect you.

Damian reached forward and wiped away your tears. He didn't want to see you upset from his. Your bottom lip trembled. You felt horrible for being cruel to him so many times because you didn't know the truth. Without another thought, you leaped into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You sobbed against him. Damian kissed the top of your head. He cupped your cheeks, making you meet his eyes. His gaze flickered down to your lips for a split second before looking back to yours. It was a subtle way of asking if it as okay. You answered by initiating your long awaited kiss.

The weeks apart left a yearning for you both. This kiss was the one thing that both of you craved most. The tenderness of it, the love that fueled it. You felt like you were going to combust from how much you missed his kisses. Your dreams of him kissing you were nothing compared to this.

"I love you," Damian pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He was petrified to let you go again, scared that you wouldn't come back this time. Dreams of you would never be enough for him. Damian needed you like he needed air. "I can't live without you. I dreamed of you ever night."

"I wished upon the stars every night hoping that you would come back to me," You confessed. "Please don't leave me again."

"Never, beloved."

[therenlover]

Brutal (A Demon!Daniel Bruhl x Starlet!Reader Ficlet)

(So, this is the first little ficlet in my Sour series, which can be found HERE! I hope you enjoy it! Also, enjoy blurry Checo, because he’s who @creme-bruhlee and I imagine as demon!Daniel)

“And I'm so tired that I might / Quit my job, start a new life / And they'd all be so disappointed / 'Cause who am I if not exploited?”

Synopsis: A crime of passion accidentally summons a handsome demon who offers to make your deepest desires come true... for a price, of course. 

Rating; M (16+)

Warnings: Vague Allusions to Past Dubcon/Noncon, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Murder, Making A Deal With A Demon, Maybe A Tiny Bit Of Monsterfucking???? If You Squint??? Not Really Though

Word Count: 1500~

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“What is it that you desire?”

The man- no, creature- before you was shrouded in the darkest corner of your dressing room, perched languidly upon the chaise lounge that had been oh so kindly included in the rider of your contract by whatever filthy fucker decided they wanted to have you this time. He didn’t matter now, though. No, not now that his brains were splattered against the carpet. The only thing that mattered anymore was the creature in the corner. 

Even in the darkness, you could see its razor-sharp teeth glinting in the low light. 

Trembling with unused adrenaline, you smiled back at it, hands still covered in blood. “I’m not answering that until you answer a few questions of my own,” 

Surprisingly, the thing seemed to lean further back into its plush seat as it nodded, long pointed tail undulating slowly, like a python preparing to strike. “Very well. It makes no difference to me how long you draw out our little deal,” slowly, the thing chuckled, “Besides, for you, pretty one, I’d wait all the time in the world,” 

You groaned at his exaggerated wink. 

Still, it was too late to turn back now. With the blood on your hands for the death of the man at your feet, both physically and metaphorically, there was nowhere to go but forward. Maybe making a deal with the devil wasn’t your original plan, but it sure as hell was better than prison. With a sigh, you sat down heavily into your high-backed makeup chair. 

“So I’m assuming you’re a demon?”

The creature in the corner made some sort of deep, proud noise in its chest as its two, shadowy hands came up to stroke its curved horns, much like a goat’s, with a certain puff-chested reverence. Even while beholding it in that darkness, its features shrouded in black, there was an allure to the strange monster, a strange, sick draw. You were helpless to whatever had appeared before you and all its powers. Somehow, though, you had seemed to intrigue it despite your comparative weakness. 

“I go by many names, but demon is one of them,” it purred, red eyes glinting with something more than bloodlust, “I prefer others,”

“What should I call you then?”

“Whatever you please,”

You scoffed. “You said you had many names, why can’t you tell me even one?”

It huffed a long sigh, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said that you saw smoke erupt from where its nostrils should be. 

That being said, it didn’t seem like the thing was frustrated. If anything, the creature seemed amused. From its words, you could only assume it had been hundreds of years since it had last entertained itself on the human realm. You could only hope your rage was entertaining enough to keep any of its less desirable emotions at bay. 

“Names have power, Schatz. I can’t just go around telling everybody who I am,” it’s accent felt thicker as it leaned back, “but I suppose, if you and I were to make a deal, that I could allow you to name me something. Or I could choose one for you,”

“What if I didn’t make deal with you?” you challenged the creature with a smirk. 

It hummed low in its chest as it pondered your question. “Now that would be no fun,” 

“For me or for you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Time was getting short now, with the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until someone would arrive at your dressing room door to lead you out towards the set where the rest of the cast and crew were waiting. If they found you with the body it was over. Things with the demon needed to be resolved, and they needed to be resolved fast. 

Thankfully, it didn’t toy with you any more than you expected it to. 

“For both of us,” it replied, tail flicking almost excitedly, “I can’t touch you if we don’t make a deal, for better or for worse, and even then your soul wouldn’t be mine to toy with until the deal was complete. That being said, you’re in a pretty sticky situation. I think you need me just about as much as I need you, so I’ll ask again; What do you desire?”

You swallowed thickly. 

On one hand, you couldn’t imagine things would end up very pleasantly for you once the dark shadow who had staked its claim on that awful chaise lounge finally did have a chance to get its clawed hands on your soul. On the other hand, though, you had nothing left to lose. Fame, especially so young, always came at a price. You would wager to guess that even if your soul hadn’t been claimed by a demon, that it had already been stolen away by the producers and directors that pulled the strings of your life like you were some obedient little puppet dancing for an audience who wanted to devour you whole. 

In the end, an eternity in Hell with whatever was grinning at you like the Cheshire cat from the shadows might even be preferable to the horrors you’d already seen. 

Slowly, you answered its question. 

“I want to make every single person who ever took advantage of me suffer the same pain they put me through,” 

The creature’s face split into a toothy smile. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” 

Moving like smoke on water, it stood from its place on the chaise lounge, morphing in shape and size as it approached and held out it’s newly human-shaped hand to you. In his new form, at least, you assumed it was a he, the creature was handsome, all dark eyes and slick hair. He looked young, and somehow, even with his new, thin lips and human teeth, he retained his signature smile. You took his hand and shook it without hesitation.

Even with your heart beating almost out of your chest, you had to admit that, with a demon at your side, you felt more empowered than you ever had before. 

He noticed. 

“I am known to my kin as Asmodeus,” he cooed, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he drew near to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind, “You, though, my sweetest pet, may call me Daniel,” 

Daniel. 

Somehow, even after you had seen the faintest traces of his beastly form, you had to admit that the name suited him. Maybe not as well as Asmodeus, but it worked well enough. You looked up at him through lidded eyes. “I’m-”

Before you could answer, he pressed a finger to your rouged lips. 

“I know everything about you sweetling, no need for introductions. There is one last thing we need to do to seal the deal, though,” 

A pit formed in your stomach as you gulped, caught in Daniel’s entrancing gaze. You had to assume there was some sort of magic to it, a spell that kept you trapped for all long as he could stare down into your eyes. Still, it would do you no good to fight it. Besides, the pangs that were making their way through your whole being weren’t fear. 

Oh no, they were something much worse. 

“What do we need to do?” You asked, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

Daniel replied with a sly smile and a soft chuckle. “I need you to kiss me, of course,” 

Who were you to disagree with the expert?

With all the strength and bravery you could muster, you surged up and met Daniel’s lips with your own, melting into the kiss as he quickly took over, skilled tongue darting into your mouth to claim it as his own. He bit hard on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when your hands were busy exploring up under his shirt and finding purchase on the firm muscles that waited below. 

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly keeping his hands to himself either.

Sooner than you would have liked, though, Daniel was pulling his lips away from yours. It was just a fraction of an inch, your swollen mouths still connected by a string of saliva tinted a dark red with your blood, but you were already keening from the loss of him the second you caught your breath. The sound pleased him. 

“What are we to do first, sweetling?” he purred, letting his nails run gently against the soft skin of your waist, “I’m at your command,” His breath was hot against your fact, and he smelled like gun smoke. 

It drove you wild. 

You snuck a look at the clock before turning back to him, eyes aflame. “In about ten minutes we’ll need to have the mess in here cleaned up with any evidence gone, but before we do that, I want you- no, I need you to fuck me. Can you make that happen?”

Daniel beamed. 

“Oh, sweet girl, anything is possible with me at your side,” As he whipped you around to push you against the chaise lounge, licking his lips, he couldn’t help but add, “I believe this is the beginning of a very beneficial partnership,” 

And against all odds, as you hooked a leg up around his waist and pulled him in for another searing kiss, you had to agree.

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a/n: WOW WOW WOW THAT WAS GARBAGE BUT I LOVED IT. I finished season 5 of Lucifer yesterday, so I was in the mood for some demonic shit. I hope it was at least semi-enjoyable despite being straight up shitty writing lol. 

Taglist: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @be-cautious-around-bri 

[juletheghoul]

Mysticus Chapter 5

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT NSFW 18+ PIV sex (wrap it up) dirty talk

It's smut time y'all - only 1 bed (my favourite cliché lol) hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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Things between you and Ezra were strange. There was electricity in the air, a charge to your interactions. Between his ever present secret smile, and his closeness, you had the feeling he was in on something and you were always just outside of it.

You had a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you knew, you had the inklings inside you of a massive truth but you kept running away from it. Perhaps it influenced you into driving until the exhaustion caught up to you and he was just following your lead. He was always following your lead.

---------------------------------------------

“Sorry, the motel is being renovated and most of the rooms are out of commission, all we have left are single bed rooms.” The motel attendant told you lazily, she didn’t seem all that sorry. You felt flustered but Ezra turned on the charm.

“My sincerest thanks miss, we’ll do just fine with whichever room you have available. Can I surmise that there is a sofa in said room?” He smiled taking the key she held out. She nodded as she filled out some paperwork and took the cash he laid on the table.

You wanted to pull him aside and tell him that you could keep looking but you were so tired.

So you went along with it and decided that it was just sleep and you’d figure it out once you saw what you were working with.

“My apologies for taking the lead back there Birdie. Please do not take this as an attempt to coerce you into an unsavory position with me. I am just dead on my feet, and of course, the bed will be for you. I am content with the sofa, and if you are truly unhappy then we will pack up tomorrow morning bright and early and set off in search for more acceptable accommodations.” He told you as you opened up the door into the room he’d paid for.

You could see how tired he was, the deep brown eyes which were usually lively and bright were half closed, dark circles underneath. You were both grown adults, you weren’t about to let him sleep on the sofa which looked like a pile of rags wrapped in fabric.

“Hey it’s okay, the bed looks big enough and we’re both dead tired. Nothing wrong with sharing the bed. Here – go shower before you pass out.” You handed him the toiletry bag and guided him to the bathroom. He tried to complain but you shushed him and firmly pushed him into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Okay. This is fine. You’re a grown-ass woman and this isn’t the 1800’s, you weren’t some blushing bride coming to the marriage bed. You practically slept on top of him in the Jeep not long ago.

You decided to take the dog out to do her business quickly to distract yourself. Ten minutes later you were back in the hotel room and Ezra was hanging up his towel and getting into bed. You could smell the body wash you both shared and the faint smell of toothpaste as he smiled weakly and got himself settled. The dog climbed up on the foot of the bed by his feet and made herself comfortable as he read a couple of pages of the tattered book he carried around.

You took a little longer than usual, hoping that by the time you got into bed he’d be asleep. Once you opened up the door, feeling clean and fresh but significantly more nervous than was necessary you saw that the lights were off and Ezra was facing away from you.

Okay.

This is good, just have to slip into bed and go to sleep.

Getting into the bed and settling on your back, it felt as though you were lying next to a livewire. His breathing was soft and slow but you knew he wasn’t asleep. You closed your eyes trying to concentrate but your senses felt amplified.

Everything in you wanted to turn over and wrap your arms around him, bury your face into the back of his neck while wrapping your leg over his hip. For a wild moment you thought you might just do it but he cleared his throat quietly and it snapped you out of your temporary hysteria.

“You keep forgetting how loud you think Birdie.” He spoke in a low sleepy voice which shot straight to your core.

“Sorry.” Was all you say, you turned on your side facing away from him hoping that somehow your thoughts would be quieter on your side? The dog, unhappy with the amount of noise the both of you were making got up and walked to the other side of the small room and went to sleep on the floor with a huff. You felt him turn to face your back and you felt as though your stomach dropped. Why were you so nervous?

“Are you alright Birdie? Is there anything you need?” The low question put some very explicit images into your mind and hard as you tried to push them away they persisted. It felt as though your body was on fire, the soft material of your simple pjs was somehow too rough. You could swear you felt his breath moving the hairs on the back of your neck and as you imagined him scooting over and kissing you there you shivered.

“I-I’m cold.” You lied. You weren’t cold, you were aroused. Painfully so.

“Would you be agreeable to sharing body heat? If not, I can get you one of my more substantial sweaters.” He asked in what you knew was supposed to be an innocent tone but there was something darker underneath. Something hopeful.

“Uh-sure. Just for a little bit.” You responded, biting your lip and letting him come to you. You felt the bed move slightly as he moved towards you – reaching his arm and draping it over your stomach before he very decisively pulled you close to him. He tucked you under his arm with his head buried into the back of your neck precisely where you wanted him. His minty breath ghosted along your neck, fanning the flames already burning brightly within your body.

He felt solid behind you as he tangled his legs with yours and placed his hand firmly above your stomach, right below your breasts. Breathing was hard, especially when he moved your damp hair out of his face and pressed himself right into the crook of your neck. Lips right at the shell of your ear.

“How’s this Birdie? Are you warm?” he spoke in a low voice and the proximity of his mouth next to your ear made your cunt clench. You could almost hear him smiling behind you, obviously aware of exactly what he was doing to you. Any thoughts you had of sleep vanished instantly.

“Y-yes, I’m warm, thank you.” You responded, almost whispering. You unconsciously wiggled back to get more comfortable and you realized that you weren’t the only one affected by the close contact. The proof of it currently pressing into the curve of your ass. Your eyes widened and you weren’t sure what it was but you got a burst of courage and slowly wiggled against him again in a way that suggested that you knew exactly what you were doing. You not only heard, but felt him groan softly.

“Birdie, you might think you have some vague idea about what you do to me but I assure you that you do not.” He breathed into your ear as you felt his hand softly start to rub circles into the skin near your ribs, your shirt moving up a tiny bit with every stroke. You felt restless, wanting to take his hand and move it where you needed it. You felt like your whole body was charged with want, and he could feel it.

“Speak to me Birdie, tell me exactly what is it you need.” He whispered into your ear as he started to leave soft little kisses around it and down your neck, slowly making his way to your shoulder. You whimpered as you felt your arousal starting to leak out of you. You felt painfully empty. Being alone for so long meant you were no stranger to arousal and satisfying yourself but this was something different. What was he doing to you?

“I want to hear you Birdie, tell me to stop, push me away from your glorious heat and I will lick my wounds away from you in peace.” He kept kissing your shoulder, biting softly, briefly moving his hand away from your stomach to pull the collar of your shirt to the side. Giving himself access to more of your skin. You whimpered at the loss of contact but he promptly put his hand back where it was, this time moving your shirt away from your body so he could touch the soft skin of your belly.

“Please Ezra – touch me.” You almost whispered as if speaking too loudly might break the spell. His hand moved up excruciatingly slow until he cupped your breast, your nipple painfully hard in the palm of his hand. He bit your ear as he rubbed little circles around your nipple, pinching lightly causing you to whimper as you raised your arm to grab the back of his head. Finally satisfying the ever-present urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“You cannot know how I’ve longed to hear you say those words to me.” He spoke in a low voice, moving his attention to your other nipple as you turned to find his mouth feeling as though if you didn’t kiss him right then and there you’d die.

His mouth found yours hungrily and it tasted like home. His tongue probing, asking for permission which you gladly granted. Meanwhile his hand slid down your stomach and turned your body slightly giving himself more access. He grabbed at your thigh and placed your leg over his body opening you up in order to reach into your soft sleep shorts.

He kissed you almost painfully as he parted your folds to rub soft little circles on your clit. You both moaned into the kiss, you at the feeling of his fingers driving you into a frenzy, and him at feeling exactly how wet you were. He licked the inside of your mouth and kissed you as though he’d been doing it his whole life while his fingers brought you closer and closer to release.

The coil low in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he moved to your opening, dipping a finger into you to collect more of your wetness; bringing it back up to your clit. The wet glide of his finger threatened to throw you over the edge.

“I want you to cum just like this Birdie. Look at me, I want to witness nirvana on this pretty face.” He stared you as the coil snapped and you came all at once, your walls clenching painfully around nothing.

Moaning out his name and seeking his mouth again before he sat up and shed the loose boxers he was wearing as you scrambled to get your shorts off. You were desperate to feel him as you made room for him between your legs.

His cock curved up towards his stomach and you saw the angry red tip glistening with precum. You licked your lips at the thought of tasting him. He hovered above you kissing you softly.

“Birdie, I ache for you, can you sense it? Do you have any idea how much I think about this cunt? I often find myself imagining you like this, spread out flushed and begging for me. This must be a dream..” he trailed off as he pulled your shirt up and took your nipple into his mouth.

Biting softly and making you moan out his name as you ran your fingers through his hair gripping him tightly to your chest. He pulled away and blew onto the stiff peak and you bit your lip.

“No Birdie, none of that, I will hear your pleasure. Tell me what you want, tell me how good I make you feel.” He said as he moved to give your other breast the same attention.

“It feels so good, I want you Ezra, I need you to fuck me, please...” You said breathlessly, blushing fiercely and he looked almost pained at hearing you say it.

“I am in such a frenzy for you birdie, or I would really take my time, watch you fall apart continuously. I want to make you cum with my mouth, my fingers, any part of my being that brings you pleasure but I won’t last. There will be time enough for that later.” He said he crawled over you settling between your legs, his cock heavy against your entrance as he wrapped your legs around him, placing them high on his waist.

You felt another wave of slick leak out of you at his words, the stretch of him entering you slowly made easier with how wet you were, you felt so full. He bottomed out and buried his face into your neck, the clean scent of him surrounding you as he brought one hand up to hold your shoulder as the other one held your hip down. Feeling you clench around him he groaned as he stayed motionless, giving you a second to get accustomed to him being fully seated inside you. You pulled off his shirt and then your own, eager to touch more of his skin to yours.

“Birdie you surpass all of my wildest fantasies, so wet and tight for me.” You moaned at his words as he rocked slowly leaving just the tip inside with every stroke. You weren’t a virgin by any means but this was something else, this was how it was supposed to feel and as you gripped his hair tightly you knew you would never settle for anyone else.

“You feel so good Ezra-god- you’re fucking me so good.” It came out without you even thinking about it and he made some truly beautiful sounds in your ear to hear you. You raked your hands down his back, wanting him closer and he groaned.

“Please.. please - god.. harder” He reached down between your bodies to rub perfect those perfect little circles on your clit as he picked up the pace.

“One more for me Birdie, cum all over me, I want to fuck you while you fall apart.” His voice was gravelly and as he took your nipple in his mouth again you came.

It was almost painful how hard it hit you, stars practically bursting in your eyes, and as he felt you fluttering around him he picked up speed, pressing your legs up higher to get deeper, fucking you through your high. The obscene, wet noises your joining was spurring him on, making him almost feral.

“Listen to how wet I make you Birdie, music to my ears, where Birdie, where?” He was getting frantic, about to pull out but you locked your legs around his back to keep him inside.

“Inside me, birth control” he groaned loudly as he stilled, cumming inside you, you felt his cock twitch as he filled you up, pumping erratically, his cum spilling out of you and onto the bed. You couldn’t be bothered to care as he collapsed onto your chest.

The heavy weight of him was comforting as you rubbed soothing little circles onto his back while he laid there still buried inside. As you felt him snoring softly in the crook of your neck with his cum continuing to leak out of you, you realized there was no fucking way you’d ever look for separate beds again.

When he woke up a few hours later still on top of you he was almost embarrassed, it hadn’t bothered you one bit. You used the time he slept soundly on your chest to really take him in, running the pads of your fingers over the strong curve of his nose, his full bottom lip, the scar on his cheek.

You wondered how he got it, you could almost feel the wound on your own face and you were momentarily heartbroken for him. You imagined him as a little boy crying out and your heart hurt. Pushing it out of your mind you continued your exploration, travelling the miles of his golden skin with your hands. Lulling him into a deeper sleep within the safe space of your body.

A startling realization hit you as you softly kissed his forehead, smoothing his unruly hair away. You’d been numb to the world before he joined you, he felt so familiar, so essential to you now that you had him so close.

Clenching around him involuntarily you saw his brows knit briefly and it made you smile. He looked so much younger asleep, the lines on his face smoothed away. Part of you wished you could stay like this always. You’d been dead on your feet, same as him when you arrived but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, a hysterical fear gripped you - almost letting you believe that if you closed your eyes you’d wake up to it all having been a dream.

You squeezed him so tight that he woke up.

“My sincerest apologies Birdie, how absolutely insensitive of me to use you thus.” He kissed you softly as he pulled out and moved beside you. Before you could mourn the loss of his heat he pulled you close to him so you could drape yourself across his body. He took your hand in his and brought it up to kiss your palm, he traced the outline of the mark on your palm smiling slightly.

“I’m not upset, you were so tired and it was comfortable.” You answered as he kissed the mark again, he smiled at you sheepishly.

“It did not distress you to have me comatose holding you hostage?” He turned so you both faced each other. The both of you lying there naked in the dark staring at each other felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I must confess Birdie, I have never in all my years slept so soundly, you may have spoiled me letting me carry on like that.” He pulled you closer so your foreheads rested against each other.

“You snored.” You laughed, kissing him softly before turning around so he was spooning you again.

“Baseless lies I say.” He playfully pinched your side and you slapped him lightly.

“You absolutely did, but it was nice. Kind of soothing. Now I’m getting tired.” You admitted, your eyes getting heavier and heavier. He pulled the blanket up tighter around you and settled his face into your hair breathing you in.

“Sleep Birdie, we have all the time in the world.” You vaguely felt him softly stroking your arm as you drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

It was so hard to get out of bed the next morning, every time you got up he pulled you back in, kissing you into submission. Kissing you breathless. Eventually you had to smack his hands away just so you could quickly take the dog outside. Once you came back in though he ambushed you taking your clothes off and throwing you back in bed, wasting no time in slipping back into you. Your love making a little slower this time, a little more intense, soft groans and heavy sighs from both of you when you both reached your peak. So it went the whole morning; by late afternoon you were starving.

“Don’t you dare move Birdie, I’m not nearly finished with you yet.” His tone sent shivers down your spine and as much as you needed a break and a shower you were excited for him to come back. You walked to the bathroom and the reflection in the mirror startled you. Your lips were puffy from kissing, your hair a disaster, little hickeys trailed down your neck and over your breasts.

You looked thoroughly satisfied and you were. You smiled the whole time you showered, you smiled as you towel dried your hair, and you smiled as he walked through the door.

The dog jumped up to greet him when he walked through the door and he smiled and pet her affectionately, his eyes quickly scanning to find you.

You still wore the smile and he looked at you as though you were the sun. You felt the excitement in your stomach, still nervous even though it felt like you’d had sex countless times.

Your mind produced the image of him looking up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth and you felt the spike of arousal hit you, making you blush. His smile held something else now, as if he could see exactly what you were seeing and he winked at you.

“Come Birdie, let us eat, and then I can get back to where I truly want to be.” The ‘in between your legs’ was implied, you felt the wetness pooling at your opening at his words. You wanted him again, but that could wait. You had so much time.

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Tag-list: @foli-vora @frannyzooey @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44

[auroralightsthesky]

Oooh I love your stuff!! What about 10 and 26 for Burgin 💙

OOooooooh 10 and 26 you say?? Don't worry hon the genie's got this (lol)

It was one of those nights where it had gotten dark early, the nights getting a bit cooler but the heat of the day still hovering over the Texas farmland.

Burgie had just brought in the cows for the night and the horses all tucked away in their stalls until they could roam free in the pasture the next day. The thin coating of sweat and grime all over his face and body was enough to drive him insane. He hated feeling dirty like this, but he loved the work with the farm critters.

He checked the hutch to make sure that nothing would get to the rabbits during the night, all of them sleeping one on top of the other in a giant cuddle pile with their ears pushed back. Taz, the little coyote dog you two had adopted, kept watch from the back porch to make sure that the farm was protected from infernal predators that roamed the land in search of food.

Into the house he went, hurrying up the stairs to the shower to wash away the nasty grime. Oh the hot water felt good!! The grime washed away in streaks and clumps, falling down the drain, never to be seen again and washing away the aching toil in his bones.

When Burgie had finished he came back into the room you two shared. You brushed out the wet tangles from your hair, looking up at Burgie as a smile crossed your face. "Everything good?" you asked.

"As good as it can be," Burgie answered. "Critters are all in for the night and Taz can come and go as he pleases."

You were more than relieved to hear it. Burgie had already had a rough enough week and didn't need any other critters going amuck before bed. He looked like he was desperate enough already, the muscle aches visible in his tired hazel eyes. You snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing him between the shoulder blades.

"Aw hon c'mon now," Burgie chuckled. "Gimme a minute to get settled darlin'."

"But I've been settled all day," you teased, kissing him again.

You must have hit a sweet spot when you kissed him. A small, barely audible gasp of surprise escaped Burgie's throat, followed by another when you kissed him in the same spot.

"Oh baby," he murmured, his hands moving over yours. "Baby please do it again."

"Ok but we should probably turn the lights off," you chuckled.

Burgie didn't think twice about it. He switched off the lights on the wall until no light was visible in the room, save for the bright, silver light of the moon outside, illuminating the field. You and Burgie crawled under the covers, eager to be with each other in that moment.

Burgie kissed you as though you two had spent an eternity apart and you returning the kiss, enjoying every last bit of it. Your hand slipped under the back of his shirt and down his sides as you lay face to face with each other, his lips grazing your cheek while his arms were wrapped protectively around you.

Your warm hands moved their way up his sides, gently grazing the spot just below Burgie's pits. But then an even naughtier thought crossed your mind. Your fingers touched the tender spots on his chest, gently stroking them as he felt a twitch running from his stomach and into his chest.

"You need help getting this off?" you asked mischievously.

"I thought ya'll would never ask," Burgie half laughed.

You helped him slip off his t-shirt, tossing it to the other side of the bed before you continued to kiss each other. Deep in the back of your mind, you couldn't have imagined anything better.

[otonymous]

Remembrance (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: In a world where strangers abound, friends become foes. Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Shaw’s identity and the latest chapters in the EN server (up to and including Chapter 24; the rest is pure speculation and imagination on my part as I generally try to steer clear of spoilers on other servers), hints of exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, angst Word Count: ~1500 words (~7 mins of smut & angst) Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by one of the many karmas that recently hit the CN server (please see pic above) and Gavin won out in my poll of which boy to write for first!  As with many things MLQC-related, you know I had to inject a dose of angst with my smut 🤣

SPOILER WARNING: For all my friends that are caught up on the latest chapters in the EN server, this story takes place in a timeline where MC is still unrecognized by the boys, but has developed some of that badassery I’m so looking forward to seeing in the future (I mean, just LOOK at the expression on her face in that karma; it screams “DON’T MESS” and I’m ALLLL for it LOL).  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬

He doesn’t know you.

If there was ever any doubt, it is driven swiftly from your mind by the frost in amber eyes, the gaze that once held nothing but tenderness now tinged with suspicion and distrust.

“Who are you?  How did you gain access to the classified files?”

The grip on your wrists tightens, the leathery smoothness of his gloved hand a sharp contrast to the strength in those long fingers, binding your arms behind you with ease.  Gavin’s breath is hot, dancing on the nape of your neck in unhurried rhythm despite the precariousness of the situation.

What did he have to be afraid of, after all?  He wasn’t the one in a compromised position, pinned against a glass wall in the Archives room - the inner sanctum of the Special Task Force headquarters.

“My patience is wearing thin.  You’d better start talking.”

His voice is hushed, low and dangerous and completely out of place when directed towards you.  A lifetime ago, when the biggest worry you had involved convincing a certain CEO not to pull funding from your production company, Gavin had loved you — completely and unconditionally.

Now you knew what it was to stand on the other side of that fence.

The woman you were before would’ve cowered, limbs shaking beyond control as her blank mind raced in endless circles, trying to come up with something, anything, to extricate herself from the desperate situation.

Scared.

Helpless.

All the things you no longer identified with.

Your breath fogs up the glass, mere inches from the tip of your nose.  Each passing second of silence sees Gavin’s brows furrow even deeper in the reflection staring back at you, his handsome features easily made out against the darkness of the surrounding hallways — dim save for the odd crimson glow marking exits and doors.

Shaw said he’d provide you with cover but apparently even he was capable of miscalculation.  No one was supposed to be here, let alone his older brother.  You wondered if he watched you now through the cameras panning the room; wondered whose eyes, if any, fell upon the pair of bodies pressed so tightly together they might well have been mistaken for lovers caught in flagrante.

Lovers.

In another life, you had called Gavin yours.  

The thought settles heavy in your heart, sinking until it reaches the pit of your stomach.  You knew what had to be done, hoped you had the wherewithal to make it happen.  Physically, there is no contest: Gavin is much too strong and fast for you to take on.  Escape now is contingent on the hope that even if he had no recollection of you, his body would still respond to the things you knew he loved best.

“I bear no ill intentions towards the Special Task Force, Commander Bai, least of all towards you.”

Half-whispered, the tone of your voice is sultry, aiming to disarm.  Taking a deep breath, you step back, moving closer into the curve of Gavin’s body as you ignore the awkward angle of your stance.  The lapels of his overcoat brush soft against your bare shoulders and suddenly…

…you recognize that scent.

Soap on skin.  Windblown hair.  The memories wash over you, relentless like the undertow of a tidal wave: the letter you never opened — bloodied and crumpled.  The boy with the bandaged face, thrusting his jacket over your head as he yelled over the din of pouring rain for you to make a run for the school gates.  Your heart had pounded even then to be close enough to catch the subtle fragrance of his soap.

I’m sorry, Gavin.

You feel the heat of tears rolling down your cheeks, see them glisten in the reflection looking back at you.  And when you crane your neck to face him, amber eyes widen at the sight, Gavin’s grip on your wrists loosening just a bit to hear you say,

“You’re hurting me.”

Feigning innocence, you keep your gaze locked on his, letting your mouth fall open just enough to allow your tongue to sweep out and wet pink lips.

“Don’t you remember me, Gavin?”

Exaggerating the arch of your back, your bottom juts against the plane of his groin, hard even beneath layers of clothing.  And when your hips begin their languid sway — tracing figure eights over his body in an attempt to persuade — the prominent bob of Gavin’s Adam’s apple signals that you are on the right track.

“I…I don’t know who—”

“Touch me, and maybe then you’ll remember.”

You let your head fall back onto Gavin’s chest like so many times before, hear the echo of his heart — racing now — when you peer up at him from beneath your lashes.  Fighting against his grip, you slide your hands down and over the outline of his hardening cock…slow…until you reach the hem of your skirt.

Grasp and pull.  Up, up, up.  Try not to shiver when the cool air hits your bare skin.  Let the memories of the love you shared with this man burn bright enough to melt the ice of this Eternal Winter.

“I don’t care who sees if you don’t, Commander Bai.  You have nothing to fear from me.  I’m unarmed.  Check for yourself…”

Barely breathing now, you maneuver — cautious — until your palm is pressed to his.  Gavin’s fingers twitch and you seize the opportunity before it flees.  It is now your hand that grasps his, bringing it down and around the curve of your hip until it slides beneath the lace of your panties.

“Hm…”

Gavin moans despite himself to feel the heat radiating from your core even through leather, distraught at how uncharacteristically he was behaving.  He was seasoned enough to know when he was walking into a trap and yet, there was something about you that told him you weren’t lying; that he did know you even if he had no recollection of ever laying eyes on you in his life.

Maybe that was why he let himself be led, allowing your touch to ease the disquiet in his chest to feel like he finally found something important he once lost without even realizing it.

Your purse slides off your shoulder when you lurch forward, hands shooting out last minute to prevent your face from kissing glass as your knees shake to feel his gloved hand rubbing circles about your swelling clit.  Each stroke is torturously slow, as if Gavin were patiently getting reacquainted with the body that took very little time to respond to his touch.

You could hear it, after all — the wet sounds that accompanied the movement of his fingers, especially now that the middle and index were beginning to traverse the length of your slit, curving at your entrance to gather the arousal that pooled.

And when he holds up his hand before both of you, the sticky sheen that darkened leather in places makes you blush before all thoughts of self-consciousness are swept away by the sight of Gavin licking from knuckle to tip, white teeth biting to pull the glove off one hand, then the other.

You feel the heat of his skin now, the roughened callouses on fingers and palm sweeping gently along the line of your jaw, eyes of molten gold observing every movement in the reflection of you and him on glass like an intimate portrait.  And suddenly, there is no Special Task Force, no NW, no Black Swan…no Evol.  

Nothing else but you and him.

I love you.

The silent echo of your unspoken words settle in the darkest corners of your heart as your close your eyes, giving over to the touch of Gavin’s hands — one cradling your face as the other conforms to the curve of your breast.

“I don’t know why…”

Soft lips brush against the lobe of your ear en route to dropping kisses along the pulse of your neck.

“…but I’ll trust you this one time.”

There is an edge to his voice as Gavin pulls back, burying the tip of his nose into the nape of your neck and inhaling deep before he steps aside to let you pass.

“Go.  Before the rest of them get here.  Don’t ever let me catch you again.”

His eyes fall on you, scanning from head to toe before he reaches out to retrieve your purse from the floor and drape it over your shoulder.

“Gavin, I—”

You’re interrupted when the doors at the far end of one hallway slam open with a bang, STF agents spilling through with weapons at the ready.  Gavin shoves you towards the exit, shouting “GO NOW!” as he makes to step between you and the approaching brigade.

And as you make your escape, running so fast each breath draws the taste of blood, you fight to keep the tears from blurring your vision, all the while unaware of the amber eyes trained in your direction…watching until you merge with darkness itself.

🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[the-ackerman-clan]

A dark blue umbrella was raised above Iris's head, shielding her from the heavy rain that poured down in the town of Mitras. The rain drops that bounced off the umbrella stung at her shoulder like needles, making her green military coat slightly wet.

Mitras, being the communal hub for the rich and famous of the three Walls, was equipped with the best of everything. Iris had seen much differences between the once destroyed district of Shiganshina and here: the pavements clean, the roads devoid of rubbish and dirt. Even the buildings that lined the streets were beautifully painted, standing tall and proud, the people milling about in the area dressed extravagantly in priceless furs and silks.

'It's just like Marley,' she thought to herself, making a turn into a dark alley, skirting past shallow puddles laying around. 'There's just no difference from how they separate pure blooded Marleyans from Eldians. Plain shit.'

Truly, if Queen Historia hadn't asked the Survey Corps' higher-ups to travel all the way here for mere dealings with political intrigue, they wouldn't be here at all. Despite Trost being not as lavish as any district of Wall Sina, it was modest in the very least. Unlike here, where it reminded her of her honorary Marleyan life.

Iris slowed her brisk walk to a stroll, defying the wind blowing against her frame. She hadn't told anyone about where she truly came from, except for her superior, the deceased Commander Erwin and her most trusted friends - Levi and Mikasa. They took the news in with monotonous and understanding expressions, but she could tell they were just as shocked as when they just found out Eren was actually a Titan.

If the two rather emotionless Ackermans could be surprised by her past, she didn't want to imagine what the others would say.

"Hey, Iris?"

The woman looked up, feeling a pit of dread pooling in her stomach. Out of all the people it could be, Armin stood in front of her, slightly panting as if he ran to her, letting the rain pelt on him, making him wet from head to toe.

She would've loved to see the blue of his eyes, hear his voice, but now, when she was contemplating about whether or not to expose the past of her life, it just wasn't a good time. "Hey... Armin. Here, take the umbrella. You're all wet. And don't give it back to me. " She shoved the handle of the umbrella in his hands, then formed a respectable distance from him.

Even though she gave it to him, Armin ignored her words, stepping forward to cover her from the rain too. Now the umbrella covered her more than it did him, leaving his back exposed.

"I said you can take it. I'm going somewhere else." She looked away, a frown on her face.

"Where then?"

"None of your business."

He huffed, forcefully grabbing her hand in his. "What's wrong with you, Iris? This isn't you. Please... Just tell me what's wrong. Okay?"

"Nothing is wrong." she bit back. "Please, just leave me alone. I beg you. Go find Annie or something." She pursed her lips, internally chastising herself for letting that slip. Annie wasn't the core of her problems.

"So this is about Annie? About me visiting her?"

Well... It partially was about that. When Iris saw Armin emerge from the dungeons with a Military Police officer, Hitch Dreyse that day, speaking of Annie, she was dumbfounded. And a tad bit jealous, if she admitted it. Yet, that was better than her admitting about escaping from Marley and how she actually got her powers. Instead of talking, she remained quiet.

"Look, I told you I don't like her at all. She's just one of my friends apart from Mikasa... And Eren. But there's nothing inappropriate between us, I swear!" Armin gripped her hand in his tighter, feeling his sea-blue gaze burning into her cornflower blue ones.

"I don't care, Sir." Iris flung his hand away, the artificial Winter genes in her beginning their work. She knew they did because Armin's whole body swayed at the force, almost lunging sideways before he resumed his stance quickly. "With all due respect, Commander, I don't freaking care about what's going on in your love life. If you need someone to confide in, go find Mikasa. Or even Annie." Annie's name came out harshly, spoken between gritted teeth.

Her angry sarcasm made the two fall silent, staring at each other for a moment. Even though it was just a few minutes, it felt like eternity, dragging at Iris's heart.

"Iris, I know this isn't the real reason. You're never petty or jealous about these things. You're so open, level-headed and accepting... Even though you're just like Captain Levi. That tough shell hides a tender heart of gold inside. I know it."

To be continued!

Okay! So that's about it today!! 😆 I wanna continue lol but that would result in me getting to engaged in the story and being unable to pull myself out 🤣

Maybe a part 2 later tonight or tomorrow? 👀 don't worry, this will only go to part 3 at most, it won't become an actual fic XD

Also, I know I might get hated by hardcore AruAni shippers after this, so I'm not gonna add any tags for now. Do know that I wholeheartedly RESPECT, and even SHIP AruAni, but this is just a story for my OC. ^^ Thank you, and enjoy reading!

[vintagereigns]

“Ya’ can repay me in the mornin’.”

Warnings: NSFW (18+), Graphic language, Explicit language... 

Character(s): Raphael (TMNT 14/16) x Reader 

Tags: @aurora-the-kunoichi​ @moonlightflower21​ @donatello-writes​

A/N: I’m new to posting on this platform with my own content, so please be nice lol. This is my first TMNT imagine and, yes, I wrote it for my favorite (Raphael). Please excuse any mistakes that I made, I wasn’t sure what I was doing when I wrote this, haha. And to the lovely people that I tagged, I just wanted to see if you’d check it out, maybe give it a read? Maybe share it and let other people read it? You don’t have to and my apologies if you didn’t want to be tagged. I know Raph may not be your turtle of choice, but I was just looking for some feedback or something. Again, thank you if you do and I understand if you don’t want to read it or share it. 

________________________________________________________________

The sound of the clock ticking annoyed her right ear and her heavy eyes stared up at the ceiling above, watching as the fan spun just enough for a cool breeze to blow through the room. It was completely dark outside, possibly about two-am, but she just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. The large window on the far wall was ajar, the light curtains blowing with the breeze of the late-night wind. It wasn’t too loud outside, yet she still couldn’t fall asleep. 

Lifting her cell-phone in front of her face, she unlocked it with her thumb and went straight to her text messages. There was a certain name she had been looking for and when she found it she sent a simple greeting just to make sure he wasn’t busy or asleep. She placed the phone on her chest and within the next few seconds, the phone buzzed against her skin. He was awake and had told her to hang tight, that he’d be over within moments. 

She waited anxiously in her spot, her foot rubbing against the other underneath the dark comforter. Her heartbeat slowly picked up with every little noise from outside. She knew he was coming, however, that didn’t stop her stomach from knotting up or her heart to rise until the thumping of the organ could be felt in her throat. Every time she saw him, in light or in darkness, it was as if she had just discovered him. An aching feeling burnt in the pit of her stomach and it spread until her panties were soaked and her toes were tingling. 

The harsh thump against the fire escape alerted her of his arrival. Her hand reached to her right and she turned her lamp on, her eyes now fixating on his tall and strong body. He stood six-foot-six and his muscles made it hard for him to fit through her window, especially with the large shell hanging on his back. They stared at one another, his bright-golden eyes gazing down her covered body with his lip caught between his teeth. She couldn’t help herself and let her gaze rake up and down his form. 

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” His voice was decently deep and coated with a thick New York accent. He smiled and stepped forward, watching as she slowly sat up in bed. 

“No. I’m sorry if I bothered or interrupted anything-”

“Nah, ya’ didn’t. I’m actually glad ya’ texted me. Mykie’s been braggin’ about his winnin’ streak on Fifa and it was gettin’ annoying,” he chuckled and took a spot on the end of the mattress. “But I thought ya’ said what we were doing’ was over?”

“...Yeah, I know. I don’t know-” She was completely confused. There was a craving, a yearning, for him. His lips, his cold hands, rough skin, his voice. She had called their arrangement off, yet she seemed to find herself regretting it. 

“Ya’ don’t have to explain. I came, didn’t I? I guess ya’ can take that as a hint that I miss ya’ too.”

She nodded, yet she still wasn’t sure of what exactly to do. He looked at her and watched her face for any signal as to what move to make, but he didn’t find a single one. Placing his large hand on her leg, he slid it up until it grasped hers. She felt a surge of warmth slide down her until it reached the most sensitive part of her. 

“Raph…” She choked on her breath as his hand parted from hers and began to snake down to the band of her panties. He played with the elastic for a moment, one of his fingers rubbing up and down her slit. Raphael began to pull the blanket from her body. He wanted a full preview. 

His eyes flicked up to hers and he felt his cock harden in his shorts. She was staring at him, her mouth hanging open and her nipples peeking through the thin material of her tank top. Raph reached up and began kissing her neck, his teeth and tongue working to mark her flesh all the while one of his fingers circled her clothed clit. She moaned and moved her head, widening the surface area for his mouth. 

“Do ya’ want me to stop?” he whispered, his tongue staining her skin. She looked at him, her arm wrapping around his neck and pulling him in for a deep, tongue filled kiss. “Use your words, baby.” His lips left kisses from her neck all the way down to her cleavage. 

“No… please,” she begged, her eyes watching as he easily pulled her shirt apart, exposing her chest. 

“Please what, baby?” His mouth wrapped around her left breast, his tongue lapping around her already hardened nipple. 

“Please… don’t stop…” 

Raph switched his mouth over to her right breast, his hands still groping and working her left. She let her head fall back before looking back down at him with her tit still in his mouth. He made sure to make eye-contact as he bit down on her nipple and pulled gently before wrapping his mouth around her whole breast again. 

Raph sat up, his mouth coming off of her skin with a wet ‘pop’. His gear had already been removed before arriving in her apartment, but he still stood to his full height and removed the shorts that restricted his hard length from springing free. His dick bounced against the bottom of his plastron before resting heavily in his hand. Raph jerked the covers from his lover’s nearly-naked body and climbed back on the bed, his body resting comfortably in-between her legs. He kissed her thighs and bit down just enough to turn the skin pink. 

She watched him, still, from above and played with the ends of his tattered, red bandana. He was beautiful with it off, but she loved the way it looked on him. She always thought that the red cloth made his eyes seem brighter, yet hidden in the shadows of the mask. Raph began pulling her panties from her, cursing beneath his breath as he watched a string of her excitement detach itself from her pussy lips before resting in the cotton material. She was so wet, and he could smell her arousal. The closer he got, the stronger her scent was. He couldn’t help it and bit down harshly into her thigh, making her jump and jerk. 

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes darker and his voice deeper, raspier. “I’ve just missed how ya’ taste.” 

There was that same jolt of something indescribable. She loved when he talked dirty and, boy, was he good at it. His words could get so filthy, nasty even. Yet she loved it every time. And he knew it too, for he teased her with his voice many times before. 

Raph ran his tongue slowly up her closed slit, his eyes locked with hers again. He watched every deep breath she took, every twitch of her body, and listened to every small sound that left her lips. He watched her as he slipped his tongue between her folds and lapped up her juices, teasing her hole with his tongue. 

A growl-like noise left his mouth as he circled her clit with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He let his hands wander up her body until they grabbed a hold of her chest and squeezed, his mouth still sucking and licking her pussy. Her head had fallen back moments ago and she couldn’t find the energy to pull it back up to watch him. But she did place one hand on his left one as it groped her chest, helping him squeeze her breast. All the while her other hand reached down to the back of his head and pushed his face into her, her hips jerking and grinding his against his tongue. 

Raph could tell that she was close to orgasming by the way her moans increased in volume. A smirk found its way onto his lips as he slid his tongue as far inside of her as it would go, his finger rubbing her clit for extra measure. She was grinding against his face and Raphael felt close to his own orgasm just by that alone. He felt high as he swirled and thrusted his tongue inside of her, flicking and licking against her tight walls. 

Her legs began to shake. Raphael had found that euphoric spot inside of her that not even she or her toys could find. He knew what was to happen next, so he flicked his tongue faster, as deep as his mouth would let him. Her hands grabbed his head as she cried out, her orgasm squirting out of her and onto the bed, her blanket, and even Raph himself. He tried to rub her clit to make her come again, but she was too sensitive and jerked back when his rough digit came in contact. 

Smiling, Raph moved upward until his lips found hers in a slow kiss. She was still feeling it and moved her head to rest into the crook of Raph’s neck. Raph kissed her skin gently before standing up and flicking the light back off, his large frame walking to the other side of her bed and climbing in beside her. 

“I didn’t do anything for you,” she whispered. Raph pulled her in for another gentle kiss. 

“Ya’ can repay me in the mornin’,” he laughed. She smiled and cuddled into him after he pulled the comforter back up and around their bodies. Raph pulled her close, her bare ass against his still-hardened dick,  and wrapped one arm around her torso, his hand grabbing her boob, and his other hand resting warmly in between her legs. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, kissing her head and relaxing against her. 

She had only nodded in response and Raph closed his eyes, his body pressed against hers, and let himself fall asleep- at least until he had to leave.

[all-hallows-evie]

Walking Wounded - 2

A/N: I’m not good with chapter titles LOL. Anyway...I have no excuses for why this one is taking so long to freaking update, my brain just wants to work on EVERYTHING but this. So...sorry about that. Hope it was worth the wait!

Warnings: F!Reader (sorry!), No Y/N, ReaderxDin, ReaderxBoba Fett, possible ReaderXFennec (havent decided yet), Canon Typical Violence, LANGUAGE

***

The lurch as the ship makes the jump out from hyperspace is what wakes you. It isn't the rough jerk into atmo that you are used to on the Razor Crest, even half asleep you remember holding your breath at every jump that ship attempted. Every jump had pushed your belly into your spine.

This smooth slip from hyperspace into darkness and a field of stars is silent, the lack of shuddering metal is enough to bring your memories flooding back.

The kid.

The Jedi.

The way you had spinelessly left Din when he needed you the most.

You are curled up into a ball on the co-pilot's seat, you didn't even realize you had fallen asleep until now.

The red orange planet on the viewscreen is close enough that you can already feel the heat of the double suns mirroring off the sands on your skin.

“Your weapon still charged?” Boba asks from his seat.

You turn slightly in his direction, catching a glimpse of Fennec Shand sitting behind you. Her hands are busy cleaning a pulse rifle on her lap.

“Always.” You sigh as you stretch your back, it’s not the best night's sleep but it beats the floor of the Crest any day.

“Good. You and Fennec will enter first, leave the one on the throne to me.”

You try not to bristle at the vague way he walks you through your task ahead, you still had no idea where on Tatooine you were even going. You can feel Shand’s gaze on you, like she's waiting for any signs of weakness or trepidation.

Maker what had you been thinking?! This was the dumbest thing your broken heart has ever dragged you into!  

The ship breaks atmo near a rocky mountainside, a natural spiked wall of orange and yellow sandstone curls around a collection of cylindrical towers, keeping it hidden from sight from anywhere but above.

Oh fuck.

You close your eyes in realization and let out a small breath, the hiss you mean to be quiet instead echoes in the cockpit.

“Problem, Princess?”

“None.” You reply as you run your tongue over your canines, “Just not quite how I imagined my day starting.”

Fennec grins from her seat, the spark in her eyes dangerous. "It hasn't been under Hutt control for a long time, if that's what you are scared of."

You try to think of a way to answer and not sound like a petulant child. You shake your head as you come up empty, "Nothing worse than the Hutts out here?"

Boba chuckles, "Not yet."

***

Getting into the old Hutt palace wasn't a problem, a quick knock on the door and a well placed blaster bolt to the mechanical guard and the front door just slid open. You follow closely beside Fennec as you walk into the cool shade of the palace built in the mountain.

Two Gamorrean guards come to check on the sudden blast of noise only to be taken out with a quick shot from your and Fennec’s rifles.

The halls are silent again for a few more moments before another curious guard comes from the darkness of a staircase. Fennec gets him first, shooting the Rhodian between the chest.

He flails before he goes tumbling down a flight of stairs announcing your arrival to anyone in the throne room below.

"Fett like grand entrances?"

"If everyone thought you were dead, wouldn't you?" Fennec replies with a small smirk, as she pulls her rife close to her body.

The two of you make your way down the sandy steps, brushed somewhat clean from the body that just went tumbling down it only a few moments before.

The remaining grit crunches under your boots as you dip further into the darkness. Halfway up the steps another Gamorrean guard comes barreling up, one quick shot to the chest and he goes flying into a side room of the stairs almost comically.

In the middle of the dark pit ahead you can barely make out a white blob of a being sitting on a curved throne. A Twi'lek girl desperately pulls at her collar and chain as you approach.

Fennec is firing before your eyes have enough time to adjust to the darkness. As you touch down on the ground floor she has already taken out two guards to the right of the pale Twi’lek on the throne. You take out the Weequay to the left before he can steady his shot. The hall echoes with the harsh thuds of bodies as they drop one by one.

Fennec’s next target is the chains of a struggling Twi’lek girl on the floor. She tumbles over herself once she is freed from her chain and looks up to you two, eyes wide and wet with fear before she scurries away and disappears into a dark hall of the throne room.

The taking of the palaces takes moments, not even full minutes and when the only one left standing is the quaking Twi’lek you hear his footsteps slowly coming down the stairs.

You take a breath, eyes never leaving the target as Fett grows closer.

The old Twi’lek gasps at the familiar shadow that approaches from the stairs, “Boba!” He cries out with forced enthusiasm. He rambles on in Huttese, not your strongest language unfortunately, you can barely make out pieces, something about him being dead. Your eyes flicker to the man in question as he approaches the center of the room, coming to stand between you and Fennec, his weapons drawn.

The Twi’lek is barely done talking when the bounty hunter shoots him right in the chest, without a shred of hesitation. You let out the breath you were holding as the room falls silent.

The body has barely slumped over as Boba takes the side steps up to the platform the throne is sitting on, with a quick yank he tosses the deadweight to the floor.

Fennec smiles, a quick twitch of her lips and nothing more, as she motions you to follow her up the same sandy steps to the platform as Boba takes a seat on the throne. She leaves your side only to swipe a bottle of a bright blue drink from a nearby table. She uncorks it with her teeth before she takes a seat to Boba’s right hand. Her rifle held close to her hip.

You stand awkwardly a few feet from the throne, already questioning your place with these two.

Fennec belongs at his right hand. You’ve seen the way they work together, the short trip to Tython flashes through your memories. They are seamless when they fight, perfect complements to each other’s style. Something that you and Din had not been able to master in your short time together. Your mind wanders only to be brought back by Fennec clearing her throat.

Your attention snaps back as she motions over to Boba’s left side, his hand is up and extended towards you. Your eyes dart back to Fennec, panic plastered over your face.

Fennec makes the motion again, a little more stern this time as she points her chin towards his open hand.

You bite your bottom lip and approach, placing your right hand shakily into his once you are close enough.

He sets you down on the arm of the throne, Fennec to his right, you to his left.

Fennec takes a large gulp of the electric blue drink in her hand before she passes it to you, your fingers wrap around the slender neck as you bring it to your lips and down a swig before you think too hard about it.

“The easy part is done.” Fennec purrs.

“The rest of Tatooine will follow.” Boba replies.

“And if they don't?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Without even looking in your direction Boba reaches over to wrap his own hand around the neck of the bottle, easily covering your grip as he pulls the bottle closer.

“Then you get to earn your keep, ad’ika.” He replies.

You are unable to pull your hand away as he tips his helmet up and brings the bottle to his lips. Your heart races and heat rushes to your face.

You aren’t squeamish but it has been so long since you have been a part of anything even this close to intimacy, you try to push away the thoughts of Din but they come swarming into your mind. You would have killed to get this close to the other Mandalorian in the silver armor…

His hand leaves yours before you can make a bigger fool of yourself and you hand the bottle back to Fennec, all feeling leaving your body and you are sure there is a dumb expression on your face by the way Boba chuckles under his breath.

She knocks back another swig of the liquid as she stands and starts to look around at the fallen bodies on the platform, eyes sweeping over the objects on display.

You slide off the side of the throne sheepishly, still feeling completely out of place and instead you busy yourself with whatever is nearby.

"What was your trade?” Boba finally breaks the silence,  “Bounty hunter like Djarin?" He removes the dark green helmet from his head and holds it over his knee.

"Nowhere near as good of one, I'm afraid." You sigh as your fingers trace over the knocked over bottles on a small shelf towards the back of the throne.

"She's lying." Fennec calls from the other side of the room, she pulls the lower drawers of a small cabinet open with the tip of her boot as she peeks inside.

Boba grins, "Fennec seems to think otherwise. What are you hiding, little loth cat?"

"Nexu, if what I heard back on Navarro is correct."

Your eyes shift over to the assassin, you try your hardest not to glare.

"Mercenary or assassin then?" Boba grows more and more amused the longer the conversation goes on.

"I only kill when the situation calls for it." You reply.

"Greef Carga used to put you in those situations an awful lot…"

You could swear Fennec’s grin was growing wider with every moment that she makes you increasingly uncomfortable.

"Jobs a job." You turn your gaze to another side of the room, this was becoming tedious and you are done talking about it.

"This wasn't a job," Fennec is suddenly pressed close against you now, your shoulders smashed together painfully, the tip of her finger pokes into the soft underside of your chin, pushing your gaze to meet hers, "This was personal." Her breath fans across your skin, only making your already warm face feel even more hot.

You snatch her hand away from you, "We haven't shared a bed enough for you to be asking such personal questions, Shand." You snarl before you can think it through, a rush of cool air runs across your heated cheeks as she steps away.

"Enough, both of you." Boba chuckles.

You both turn to face Boba, any tension instantly broken by the older man’s call.

"Fennec, check underground, find us any working transports."

She nods and leaves the room without another word, sliding her rifle snug across her back.

You turn to walk away from where Boba is sitting, your eyes scan the nearby door. You tilt your head as you follow the slope of sandstone steps that disappear to one side.

"Kyramud'ika...you go nowhere until I say."

"This palace is huge, we will have more places to clear-"

"I said you go nowhere."

"Then what was the point of inviting me here?"

"To keep an eye on you, in case Djarin wants you back."

"He had his chance," You snort back in Boba’s general direction in an attempt to push away any of those soppy wet feelings that still linger in your belly, "I was just body heat for cold nights."

Boba makes a sound that is half a soft sigh and half a sarcastic chuckle. "Out with it then, kyra'ika, what's Fennec going on about? What were you doing with the guild?"

You bite your bottom lip, scraping your teeth across the skin of your lip in annoyance, "Does it matter?"

"I won't send you to do things you can't handle."

"Can you let me be the judge of that?"

"No." He replies, "See this throne? This throne says what I say goes, and I say no."

Fuck. You have only met three Mandalorians at this point in your life, and you were starting to think this level of stubbornness is bred into them. "Yes then, I'm considered an assassin for the guild."

"No questions asked?"

"No." You reply, "I only kill one type of garbage."

He is silent, his gaze studies every flinch of your features.

"Snatchers." You reply with a shaky breath, "I only hunt those monsters who steal you away."

Boba is silent, his dark eyes boring into yours, “You were sold-”

“For parts.” You reply, “I wasn't young enough to be a plaything for the elite, so I nearly became spare parts. Until a Mandalorian accidentally took out the facility I was being housed in."

"Djarin?"

You shake your head, "No, another. I've felt in debt to the covert since then."

****

Kyramud'ika - Little assassin

Kyra'ika - Same, but shortened

***

<<Back to List II Part 1 II Part 3 (Coming soon maybe...I dunno *snort*)>>

Taglist: @pamguini, @prettyboyskywalker @sunshinepascal, @pascalisthepunkest, @lunarthoughts, @wille-zarr, @xwing-baby

[the-last-cuddlebender]

I wish you would write a fic where Aang is just flustered and is amassed at katara while she’s just doing nothing ❤️maybe after the balcony kiss (btw your my favorite fic writer 💕)

*smacks table* *kicks a chair over* *screams into the void*

(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) NO YOU’RE MY FAVORITE, ANON😤❤💕💖

Ngl tho, this prompt and one other have been haunting me for so long oml I just for the longest time drew complete blanks like...just nothing came to me. Nada. I even tried getting a legit 12 straight hours of sleep to turn my brain off and back on again but nOpE. I really wanted to keep it related to after the balcony kiss since I wanted the challenge, but gosh did it fight me. My brain go poof I hope you’re happy for making me question everything, Anon lol

Anywho, I love and cherish you, Anon, you bean, you godsend, you magnificent angel, you🥰~ I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

Words: 1,785

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Aang kneaded his right thumb into his left palm. The scars there were small and white and hardly noticeable unless he held his hand right to his face.

It was peculiar, to say the least. Only the hand that received Ozai’s lightning bore a shadow of his opponent’s cold fire. The belly of his palm was a memory of death barely avoided, but he tried (...tried…tried very, very hard...) to imagine the milky pattern on pale skin as looking like a leaf’s veins when held up to the sunlight.

Aang rolled his lip between his teeth. He was going to tear something if he crouched for much longer. The scars burned without burning, and he wasn’t sure which fate was worse. Was it even considered a scar if it was never open? It was just there after the battle like it was a maker’s mark on a finished piece.

Katara would know—there was little that she didn’t know—, but she had been far too exhausted for him to even consider asking—

Katara...

Aang’s face burned like the fire she lit in his cheeks was eternal.

If he was perfectly honest, he didn’t remember feeling the kiss.

He only remembered how the kiss felt.

Because remembering the moment when Katara redefined what happiness felt like was a moment Aang would never forget.

His shoulders rose to his ears; his face smoldered as giddy magma crawled up his neck. He teetered to one side when thoughts of her shifted gravity. Maybe it was a good thing that he was crouching, after all.

Katara…

...But then he looked at his estranged left palm and the new maker’s mark that it bore.

...And his heart crisped and flaked into ashes piling in the pit of his chest.

The scarring changed nothing but uprooted everything. It was a cancer, black and numb on his hand, like it was suffering from frostbite and needed to be removed.

The estranged left palm that saved his life was the same hand Katara held—all those months ago—when they kissed that day in the dark, trapped and alone, in an inky-black Earth Kingdom cave.

The kiss was a gentle waltz turning into a speedy tango, but her hand on his was the tug to lift him out of his chair. It was the strike of flint and steel that burned away the cobwebs in his heart and brushed aside all dust to welcome something new.

...Katara...

Sokka had interrupted before Aang could ask her to be his girlfriend. Time was an illusion, but time was precious. Memories framed in moments were the beginnings of beautiful new somethings.

What they were, though...

He really hoped Katara knew better than him. Of course, she would—there was little that she didn’t know.

Did the kiss make it—them—official? They said more in words unspoken than words said aloud ever could, but they hadn’t had a moment of peace since then. Surely, he had to ask her. He really, really wanted to, too. It didn’t feel right to celebrate an anniversary without a proper date—Spirits, he and Katara were gonna have an anniversary, oh Spirits—

Aang’s palm stared back at him. Embarrassment hit him like a skybison at full-speed.

Katara had nearly killed him during the meeting that morning.

Holding his hand—that hand—under the table was toying with whatever gave his heart reason to beat.

Aang had hugged her times a-plenty, but he had never held her hand in that way for that long. It eclipsed their kiss and left him powerless like a suddenly doused fire.

...It had felt like he was poisoning her—like he was touching her with an open wound. 

Aang slumped a little more in the corner of the balcony and stared at his callouses like they could tell him what to do.

The sunset was a smirk mocking his plight, but the moonrise was a gentle grin trying (...trying…trying very, very hard...) to heal his hurts.

Katara hated holding his hand. He felt that she did. She muted the room for him when she touched him; it brought her every reaction into stark relief. He had briefly wondered if that was what Toph felt like when she sensed when someone was lying.

Katara had stiffened. She even shifted like she couldn’t get comfortable. The breath that left her was fast at first like she was just told bad news. Her exhales after that were deep and almost seething.

...The worst part was when she wouldn’t look at him. She only glared about and around them.

Aang slumped from his crouch until his rear hit the ground. His right thumb stayed married to his left palm, and the white lightning stung tender like something freshly burned. He only partially wished that he had the top of his robes on when the thought of her regretting him cut the strings that held him together; he was a puppet collapsing against the balcony wall and sliding down gritty concrete. His scar—another reminder of her—stung him like smacks to the face and melted him into something made of noodles.

The moon was a bit higher, now, but its grin wasn’t any more reassuring than before. The bugs and small critters must have become annoyed with his melting because there was silence like Hei Bai’s forest when Aang made himself smaller than his shadow and dragged his kneading hand even closer to his face.

Their kiss—she had kissed him—barbed him with a sting like thorns on a rose bush except laced with poison and fiberglass. It was decaying from the start of something new into the empty longing for a once in a lifetime occurrence. 

Something shot him in the leg and crippled what made him Aang.

His right thumb kneading his left palm slipped and dug a fingernail into a callous.

He was goo freezing over—a body consumed by jennamite.

Aang breathed out, about to take the inhale to fuel the first hiccup dancing on his shaking lip—

—but then Katara stepped onto the balcony and leaned up against the bars.

Being an airbender had its perks, and his lungs not popping from the force and fullness of his panicked inhale was definitely one of them. He was a statue—a deformed gargoyle that looked more horrific to behold than to cross—, and the glimpse of Katara’s soft grin became a braided noose refusing to let him exhale.

None of the lights were lit.

Spirits, did he love his moonrise and the weakness that she gave him.

Katara was staring into something that didn’t exist on this plane and smiling at something he couldn’t see. She was a stilled lake normally raging and powerful and beautiful to behold. He wouldn’t dare disturb her. She was as calm as a reflection.

Sudden exposure reminded him of stepping into a forbidden part of the Southern Air Temple, and his presence became a violation of something precious. Katara was remembering moments of beautiful new somethings if the way she absentmindedly bent a stream of water about one wrist—her bending her joy unhindered—was anything to go by.

Aang blushed a shade of red that Aunt Wu could have mistaken as the intended location for eruption from the Symbol of Volcanic Doom. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, and dared to shimmy into the shadow of the corner. Katara was a warrior unmatched and without equal. That’s why she was Master Katara. He could no sooner escape her than escape the earthshaking hammer-blows that the hint of her smile drove into his chest. 

He sat on a tightrope whose cables were snapping and unwinding.

It was only when he felt weaker in a way that made him stronger that he peaked an eye open.

Katara was crouched and more concerned than bemused. “Aang?” She touched the knee that had curled to his chest and was threatening to buckle into his sternum. “Are you okay?”

…’Okay’ was a subjective and circumstantial term.

His voice was the sound of rubber sliding water off of wet glass. “M-hm.”

“What are you doing out here alone and...in the corner?”

“Well, I was just...Well, y’know…” His right thumb stuck to his left palm like they were nailed together. He tried (...tried...tried very, very hard...) to hide his wound from her. “Moon ‘s nice ‘n…’n stuff.”

Katara mulled over his words, said and unsaid. Her stare was an examination checking his vitals—his heart, his soul, and his happiness. She hummed a thoughtful sound that bookmarked her place in the pages of him.

It all happened in under the time it took her to breathe. Aang nearly stopped breathing altogether when she tapped her finger on his knee.

“You’re hiding on the balcony because ‘Moon ‘n stuff’?”

“...Yes?”

She spared his ‘hidden’ fiddling hands a half-lidded glance. “Aang...”

“What?”

Katara flicked his arrow. Then, she waited.

Aang didn’t crack. He melted. 

“I was just—I thought…” He deflated. “I needed somewhere to think.”

Something about his words or the way that he said them made every bit of her soft. Her concern riddled him with holes, and, when she settled on the ground before him and propped her head on her arms on his knees, there was barely any of him left to keep him together.

“You wanna talk about it? It’s okay if you don’t. I just haven’t seen that look on your face since...Well, I can’t remember since when.”

One part of Aang threatened to grab the other part of him and throw him into a volcano.

He was making her worry. He should never make her worry, especially over something so silly—

He opened his mouth but hesitated. He didn't want to say no.

“Not—Not now.”

His honesty tamed her like she could feel it as easily as a temperature change. “It’s not something hurting you, right?”

Yes.

“No.”

Katara frowned with her eyes.

Then, she stood.

(Spirits, Aang loved his moonrise.)

“Take my hand.”

Aang’s heart took a trip to the tiny star just to the right of the moon.

She looked at him, and he felt hot cinders flake from his face and into his twisting belly. It sparked a fire so hot that it turned his sea of chi into an ocean of molten ore.

He was suddenly empty of something and filled to the brim with something else.

Katara’s hand was an invitation without equal, and the instinct to grab hold and never let go was a god’s hand trying to push him forward. 

He almost did.

But then his right thumb paused on his left palm, and white lightning struck him down.

Katara flinched like she felt it.

Aang curled into a knot like he could still hide it. 

Kneeling, Katara unraveled him without touching him. Her eyes found his and held him in place not like in a trap but like in a hug. Too soon his right thumb was hushed away from his left palm and his estranged hand was held close to her face. 

Aang couldn’t remember hearing her words, but he felt what she was saying.

Her sorrow nearly tore him apart.

Luckily, her smile kept his shredded heart together. 

And the kiss to his white lightning and the three points of his hand’s arrow put air back into his lungs. He dove into the cool-blue look she gave him and drowned himself in all that she was. 

He was filled with clouds so puffy that they threatened to let loose their rain, but his eyes became only wet and never misty. He smiled beyond the limits of what anatomy allowed when her face turn as red as his felt.

She said something that put his pieces back together, and she looked at him with something that gave him the strength. Cherry-red metal poured from a kiln and wept up her neck and into her cheeks.

Katara rolled her eyes to something that wasn’t there, disappeared inside, and returned with a mass of blankets.

“What are all the blankets for?”

“Moon ‘n stuff,” Katara said as she finished her nest of comforters and fortified quilt walls. 

Then she offered her hand again—she slipped it loosely into his own and waited for him to hold her first. 

“Sit with me.”

Aang shouldn’t have been as giddy as he was, and Katara pursed her smile like she was struggling not to enjoy his happiness too much when she tugged him up from the ground and laid with him against cushioned concrete. 

Moon ‘n Stuff was laughing and pointing out funny bits in constellations of their own designs. It was gossiping all the good rumors and their hopes about which of them might be true.

Katara crowned him King of their Chateau of Comforters with the softest blanket she had. It was blue and smelled like mornings when he could sleep in and like the small joys of finding warm things in cold places.

Katara accepted his invitation into his Blanket Castle within their Comforter Chateau. The blanket was plenty big for both of them and tied them together in a fuzzy cocoon.

She relaxed against him like she was sinking into warm water. The air that left her was fast at first like she just saw something she dearly missed. Every exhale after that was slow and satisfied—drunk on the indescribable and bewitched by the unimaginable. Aang felt her every movement so clearly that he wasn’t sure whether to give thanks or repent for the precious moment she was creating with him.

But then she shifted like she couldn’t get comfortable enough.

And she dragged an eye open to glare at any critter’s sound breaking their peace.

That was when Aang understood.

That was also when Aang lost it.

The urge to laugh was so overwhelming that it didn’t process into the bodily function, instead filling him from toe to brim with small giggles and soft feelings.

Katara didn’t want to share.

Of course, she didn’t.

Their moments were their moments, and he was hers and hers alone.

Master Katara was a being without equal, but Aang knew that which even she didn’t know.

Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me right now.

Aang’s confidence limped back to him and convinced his estranged left hand to sidle towards hers. He touched the back of it with two fingers—an almost mute invitation, an almost silent knock on the door.

Katara laced her fingers with his like it was the most natural thing in the world. She handled it not like it was something wounded but like it was something precious, and she kissed all of his knuckles before cooling his white lightning with the gentle touches of her snowy-soft palm.

The hands were the most sacred part of a bender. They were the outlets from which their soul leaked. They were the culmination of all of their senses to interact with the world.

Aang’s world shyly smiled and fiddled with her hair. She shifted like she couldn’t decide on which spot against him or which way to hold him would bring them as close as she wanted. 

She wouldn’t even look at him for fear of changing color and state of matter from beautiful young woman to gorgeous little puddle.

She blushed like something beautiful coming into bloom.

Then, she said something.

Her words bypassed all feeling and branded themselves onto his heart

“...want to be my boyfriend? O-Only if you want to...because I want to, so...um...”

She inhaled on the word like she was telling good news and hoping for the universe to talk back to her.

Aang’s current incarnation threatened to be kicked out from under him and reborn into the Water Tribes.

His head nodded like it was trying to make a break for it.

Katara laughed like it was the only language she knew.

They shared each others’ smiles in a shy kiss that felt like a brushing of souls—like the gentle zap of lightning between earth and sky that brought beauty and shook all that they knew but brought with it no scars or destruction.

She squeezed his hand.

He kissed her again just because he could.

White lightning and snowy-soft touches connected what made them each other.

Aang wilted like soggy grass, full of that which gave him life and drunk on all that she gave him.

His hand didn’t hurt anymore. His heart was starting to ache, though. It was going to burst if he looked at her for much longer.

His night got darker when Katara closed her eyes, but he welcomed the weakness his rising full moon gave him.

She fell asleep against his side, and even when Aang no longer felt his arm, he didn’t dare move.

The balcony was empty except for them, and his heart was full of only her.

Katara mumbled once, shifted twice, and adjusted her grip to hug the whole of his arm.

She was hardly doing anything, but her doing nothing did everything to him.

Aang’s courage found him just as Katara found her new favorite spot.

He kissed her cheek, but, if he was being honest, he didn’t remember feeling the kiss.

“...I love you.”

He only remembered how her smile felt.

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I hope you enjoyed, Anon! I know this isn’t Katara doing “nothing”, per se, but this is what my mush-brain put down when I sat and wrote😅  (I did, however, tuck that little ”doing nothing” idea away for different ficlet👀)

[b0n-chann]

Had this one on the back burner for a bit and finally got around to writing it out. Ummm wow? Every time I write something NSFW I get so nervous lol but I hope you all enjoy!

Tunic

Rating: mature/explicit

Warnings: smut, NSFW, Dom Mando

You were going to be the death of the Mandalorian. He had just returned back to the Crest from retrieving a quarry, exhausted and frustrated that it took him two days longer than anticipated. He trudges up the ramp, shoving the Devaronian in front of him, more than ready to put him in carbonite. He gave the Mandalorian much too much trouble, and all he wanted to do was sleep and maybe convince you to sleep next to him. His plan is shot to hell though as he pulls himself into the cockpit and sees you. It isn’t what you are doing that catches his attention so much as what you are wearing....or not wearing.

You had just finished putting the child to sleep when you hear the doors of the ship open, the groan of the ramp lowering, and indication that the Mandalorian has returned. It was a rough four days to say the least, he had said he expected to only be gone for a day or two. Needless to say, you spent the last two days worrying as he didn’t show up, and the kid seemed to feed off your nervous energy. You’ve barely gotten any sleep yourself, too busy trying to keep the kid calm and worrying about Din. In an attempt to provide yourself some comfort, you throw on one of his tunics he’s left out. It’s a small comfort, but the smell of leather and blaster residue clinging to it is enough. You finally manage to put the kid down for the night after holding, rocking and singing to him for the better part of the day. You tuck the child in and close his pod when you hear the Mandalorian coming up the ladder into the cockpit.

Legs. Smooth legs that seem to go for miles distract Din from how exhausted he is. He allows his gaze to linger on you, appreciating your figure as he fully enters the cockpit. He almost laughs when he sees your small frame swimming in one of his tunics, but something primal and possessive in him realizes that he loves seeing you in his clothes. The dark fabric contrasts with your skin nicely, and he notices that you’ve had to roll the sleeves up a few times to be able to use your hands. He also notices just how little it covers your bottom half, barely covering your ass.

“You’re late.”

“I know.”

“I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I missed you.”

He blatantly looks you up and down again. “I noticed.” Your cheeks flush, having forgotten what you are wearing. You become much more self conscious of how short it is and you try to tug it down a few inches. “Don’t. I’m admiring the view.” He saunters over to you slowly and pins you between himself and the control board. You feel his gloved fingers play with the hem of the tunic as he towers over you.

“I missed you, too.” His voice is soft and low, and it hits you deep in the pit of your stomach. Your breathing hitches as you feel him ghost over your outer thigh. “You’re a naughty girl, you know, wearing this. It makes me want to rip it right off of you. Take you right over my chair. Would you like that?” Din slowly drags his hands to your inner thighs before moving up to your stomach, skipping exactly where you wanted him to go. You rub your thighs together in frustration and whimper. You love it when Din is like this, controlling and dominant. And you’ve noticed that he’s usually always like this when he comes back from a securing a bounty. One hand grips your waist, holding you in place, while the other continues to work its way up your body. He barely grazes the side of your breast and a deep chuckle reverberates from his chest when he feels your body arch towards him. He cups your chin and tilts your head up so that you’re looking at him again.

“Did you wear this for me on purpose, Beautiful?” He asks. The hand that was previously gripping your waist is now working its way lower and you let out a small moan as he grabs your ass. “Did you know that seeing you in this would make me want you like this?” Din steps between your legs and your eyes widen as you feel his hardening cock press against you.

You shake your head slightly. “I...I didn’t.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely the truth, but you weren’t expecting this strong of a reaction. You suck in another breath when you feel his hand playing with your panty line. “I missed you. A lot. And this smells like you.” The little pout you give him is enough to undo him completely. A wicked thought crosses your mind, and you wonder the effect it’ll have in him. “I might have touched myself in this though, pretending it was you. I missed you so much.” You repeat again and the image of you doing such things to yourself sends Din over the edge. He gives your ass another hard squeeze as you hear his breath catch in his throat and he lets out a groan.

“You are going to be the death of me, naughty girl. I never told you that you could do that.” He steps away from you, breaking all points of contact and you try to reach out for him I protest. He’s too quick for you though and places both hands on your shoulders, effectively pinning you against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your knees trembling. “I couldn’t help myself.” Before you can say anything else he cuts you off.

“Don’t move.” He lets go of your shoulders, however, his gaze is still locked on you. You stare back into his visor but you notice him taking off his gloves, golden skin becoming exposed and you try your best not to stare. Those hands have killed, but those hands have also brought you immense amounts of pleasure. He brings his bare hand back and strokes your cheek as he places a leg between yours. His thigh hits the apex of your legs and it takes your entire being to not rub up against him. “What are we going to do with you?”

Maker, he hasn’t even touched you properly yet and you’re already about to combust. “Din, please,” you whimper. You try to reach out to him but he pins your hands together in one of his. He presses his thigh into you even more as he leans closer.

“I want to watch you.”

He keeps his grip on one of your hands and guides it towards your center. You look up at him in shock. “You...”

“I want to watch you fuck yourself.” He finishes for you. Your jaw drops slightly as you try to process what the Mandalorian wants from you. He still has a hold on your hand and he pushes, increasing the pressure on your clit. You cry out and your free hand grips his forearm to ground yourself. “Come on, sweet girl, let me see you.” He guides you towards his pilot chair and slides your panties down before he pushes you lightly into the seat. He coaxes you to open your legs as he crouches down in front of you and groans at the sight, nearly forgetting his intentions. It takes him all of his self control not to drive his cock into you. “You’re so wet already.”

“Din,” you try again. “I want you so bad.”

Din brushes his thumb against your inner thigh, leaving a trail of flames in his wake. “Ah ah,” he denies you. “I want to see what you do when I’m gone.” He takes your hand once more and caresses your fingers tenderly before encouraging you back towards your cunt.

You close your eyes as you begin to touch yourself, allowing yourself to collect some of your arousal before you swirl your fingers around your clit.

“That’s it, Beautiful. Rub that pretty clit for me,” Din says as he pushes your legs apart a little further. You whimper as you feel your inner thigh muscles stretch. You imagine it’s Din doing these things to you even though he’s right in front of you, watching. You press down a little harder and a gasp escapes your lips. “Open your eyes and look at me.” He commands. Your eyes snap open at the tone of his voice and you swear you’ve never been more aroused. Din is an incredible lover, but there is something about him watching you pleasure yourself that ignites you. You sink a finger into your soaking pussy.

“Oh fuck, you sweet, dirty, girl. Let me see you use those fingers.” You look down at Din and watch him zeroed in on your core. You begin to pump your finger in and out of yourself, your pace slow and you know Din is enjoying the view when you see him undo his pants. He brings his cock out and strokes himself a few times. His grip tightens on your thigh and you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there later. “Put in another one for me.” His voice is gruff and low and you can’t help but oblige him. Your index finger joins your middle and you pick up your pace. The sound of your fingers sliding in and out of your soaked cunt along with your increasing moans fill the cockpit.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about as you fuck yourself, Beautiful. Are you thinking about my cock filling your tight pussy up?” You feel your walls twitch around your fingers as the image of him fucking you fills your mind. You can only nod your head, your eyes squeeze shut as it all begins to be too much. “Oh my sweet girl, you’re making a mess all over my chair. You’re dripping. Do you like this? Like fucking your pretty little pussy while I watch? You dirty thing.”

“Din,” you beg. “I need you so bad.” You throw your head back over the back of his chair, your hand working furiously between your thighs. Your free hand finds your breast and you tug at your nipple through the tunic. You’re so close.

“Fuck, look at you. A fucking mess, dirty girl. You’re close, aren’t you? I can tell even though I’m not inside you. Are you going to come for me?” Din opens your legs even wider as he appreciates the view. It’s taking him every ounce of self control he can muster to only watch. The image of you pleasuring yourself while crying out his name will forever he burned into his memory.

You’re just about to tumble over the edge of your orgasm when you feel Din hold your wrist in place, effectively stopping you. Your eyes snap open and you look at him, flustered and bewildered and so so frustrated.

“Why?!” You cry out, chest heaving as you pout before the Mandalorian. He still has a grip around your wrist, your walls clenching around you, desperate for release.

“I asked if you were going to come for me, Beautiful. Me.” He slowly slips your fingers out of you. “Your pleasure is mine.” He slowly rises and to his knees, your legs still spread before him. He removes something from his pocket. Your blindfold. You see the dark red piece of fabric and you almost come at the sight of it., knowing what happens when it’s on. He weaves his fingers into your hair and brings your forehead to touch his, a gentle reminder that he adores you.

“You did so good, sweet girl, let me take care of you now.” Your vision is cut off after that, as he places the blindfold over your eyes. “Too tight?” You shake your head. You hear the hiss of his helmet releasing, a soft clank indicating he’s placed it away. He takes the hand you were pleasing yourself with and you feel something warm. Moist. The Mandalorian is licking your hand clean, his tongue moving around your fingers and you can’t help but wish he mouth was elsewhere. “Can’t waste this.” He says, his voice no longer hidden behind the modulator. It’s rich and lovely and you’re so aroused even the sound of his voice makes your pussy pulse. He hums in approval at your taste.

He peppers kisses up your thighs, whispering sweet praises to you. “You don’t know how much I missed you, Beautiful. All I wanted to do was come back to you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” He stops for a moment at your entrance, exhaling lightly, teasing you. Your hands find themselves in his hair, tugging helplessly but knowing that Din will do things at his own pace. “What do you want me to do?”

You face flushes. Din Djarin is an extremely vocal man when he makes love to you although you’re still getting used to the fact. “Your m-mouth, please,” you stutter. “I want your mouth on me.” He is too eager to oblige. He tosses one of your legs over his shoulder and devours you. His tongue is relentless, he uses the tip of it to rub over your clit again and again. Your hips buck up but he’s quick to place an arm over your abdomen, keeping you in place. You attempt to shove your fingers back into your soaking cunt but Din stops you.

“I told you I’d take care of you,” he says before sinking two thick fingers into you. He thrusts them in and out of you, setting a steady rhythm. His mouth returns to your clit, and he refuses to stop until you’re over the edge. He can feel that you’re close. He rewards you with third finger and stretches you out, and it’s enough to force an orgasm from you. “That’s it, Beautiful. Cum all over my fingers.” You clamp around him again and you vaguely hear him curse at how tight you are. He doesn’t give you a chance to recover though. Din wants something from you, he couldn’t stop thinking about while he was gone and needs to see you do it again.

His fingers find that spot inside of you that drives you crazy. Your thighs shake since you’re unable to move. Din continues to work you with his tongue and his fingers and you feel a storm building within you. This feels different from your last orgasm, deeper almost. “Din, wait,” you try to get him to slow down but he doesn’t. “Din, I’m going to...” you trail off and something explodes within you. Your vision burns white from the intensity even with the blindfold on.

“Mmm that’s what I wanted to see.” He licks you again, slowly this time, giving you a break. And savoring his work. “I love it when you squirt for me.” You bite your lip, still trying to compose yourself, your thighs soaking wet. You remember being mortified when you did it the first time but Din seemed to love it. He loves pleasuring you, and you have a feeling it’s because it’s a sensory overload for him as well.

“I need your cock,” you rasp out, still barely able to speak. With the blindfold cutting off your vision, you had to rely on the man before you to lead you. You feel Din massaging your legs, coaxing them to relax just a bit. “Please, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Din groans at your request. “You’re playing a very dangerous game.” You feel him get up, standing in front of you. He takes your head in his hand. “Open that sweet mouth for me.” You follow his command, your mouth already watering for him. You feel the head of his dick at the entrance of your mouth and you lick the tip of it teasingly before you wrap your mouth around him. “Mm you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Din says from above you. He slowly rocks his hips, slowly pushing his length into your mouth further, still holding god back of your head firmly. You suck him eagerly, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your jaw to take him completely. “Oh fuck, that’s it.” You moan around him and he grips your head a little tighter, pushing even further into your mouth. You lick the base of his length repeatedly as you cup him in your hand.

“Stop that. I still want to fuck you over my chair.” You moan loudly at the thought, the vibration from it almost too much for Din. He slowly pulls his dick from your mouth and before you have any time to complain he turns you around and bends you over his chair, just as he had promised. You grip onto the back of the chair in anticipation. “I love seeing you like this,” Din says as he gives your ass a hard squeeze and you whimper. He fingers you again, pleased to find you still so wet. He drags his fingers out of you and slides his fingers back, lightly brushing your asshole. You shudder as he lingers there for a moment. “Can I fuck you here sometime, too, dirty girl?” His finger grazes there again and just the slightest bit of pressure. “I want every part of you.”

“You have all of me, Din.”

And with that he pushes into your throbbing heat, enjoying the way he fills and stretches you. You brace your arms agains the back of the pilot’s chair as he fills you completely.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours.”

Din begins thrusting into you, a slow and heavy pace, allowing you to really feel how thick he is. You push your ass back into him, and you both groan at the increase in friction it provides.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” Din grinds out from behind clenched teeth. He grabs hold of your hips and tilts you down just the slightest bit. The way he has you angled now has him drilling into you and you can feel his pace quicken. The Mandalorian consumes you, his hips snapping hard against you, and it’s all you can do to just try and hold on.

You whimper again as you feel him start to force another orgasm from you. You desperately cling onto his hand to signal to him for something, anything. Din understands and leans over to brace you across your chest before lifting you up, changing the angle his cock hits you again. “Give me another one. I need you to cum all over my dick.” Something within you explodes at his words and if it’s possible you feel him thrust into you even harder. “Maker, you get so tight and warm when you cum,” he says and you’re barely coherent enough to understand him. “I’m gonna cum...can I...inside of you, Beautiful? Can I fill your sweet pussy up?” His hips begin to stutter and his rhythm becomes frantic.

You nod your head and gasp out a yes as you feel him quickly find your clit. “Give me one more, pretty girl. Let me feel you cum all over me.” Your body complies to his command even when you thought you had nothing left to give. Your walls shudder around him which sends the Mandalorian over the edge. He lets out a roar behind you as he empties himself deep inside of you. His hands are like vices around your hips as he holds tightly onto you, slowing his rhythm down to barely anything. Carefully, he lifts up your tired body and places you back onto his chair before lowering himself onto the floor, kneeling before you.

“Wow,” you breathe out, still trying to catch your breath. Din lets out a hum of content in agreement.

“You should wear my clothes more often.” He tugs his tunic you’re wearing back into place. You give him a cheeky smile, blindfold still over your eyes.

“I’d say so.” You shift slightly and grimace, feeling the mess you two made. You move to get out of the chair before you make it any worse.

“Not yet, pretty girl. We’ll get there. Let me just look at you for a second.” Din says softly as he places his hands on your shoulders to sit you back down.

“You’re always looking at me,” you whine. His rich laughter fills your ears.

“Maybe. But not like this.” You realize then, what he means. He doesn’t get to enjoy you without his helmet very often. And now with both you and the child on board, his time without his helmet is extremely limited. You reach out and find his shoulder, trailing your fingers up until you find his cheek. You smile when you feel his scruff, not having been able to shave for the days he was gone. You attempt to map out Din’s facial features: his strong brow, prominent cheek bones and straight nose. Your thumb grazes his lips and he gives it a kiss.

Your head falls forward slightly, an indication that you’re nearly as exhausted as he is. Din smiles slightly at you. “Alright, Beautiful, let’s get you to bed.” He goes to grab his helmet but you stop him.

“ ‘s okay,” you slur. “Keep it off. You should have a chance to breathe.” Din captures your lips in a sweet kiss. He helps you to your feet and guides you gently to your room, pulling back the covers to the bed. You clamber onto the bed, scooting over to the other side to make space for Din. “Rest for a while.”

Din had every intention of setting the flight plan to their next destination but your invitation to rest was too hard to resist. Din quickly strips off his beskar, careful to put them down gently before joining you in bed. You place your head on his bare shoulder and throw your arm and leg across his body. “Is this why you wanted me here?” He laughs.

He’s only met with your even breathing. He looks down at you and smiles at your sleep form. He darkens then room completely before removing the blindfold from your eyes.

“Goodnight, Beautiful.” He whispers before sleep overtakes him.

Tag list:

@momc95 @electricprincess888 @maia-hocane @lamnothome @highonsoundwaves @tedpicklez @renreypoe @mabelleen @cryptkeepersoul @holamor @mando-vibes @lustriix @katialvi @spookyold-saintjm @sarcasm-n-insomnia @awesomefandomsunited @sentimental-ghost

[waywardxwords]

Whole Again

Summary: When Crowley is holding your family hostage, you jump into gear to try to rescue them. You feel angry as Dean insists you need a plan before rushing in. Your feelings are overwhelming, especially when you realize why you’re feeling the way that you do. You just want to feel whole again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,821

Warnings: Violence, blood, vomiting (not too detailed), severe sadness/despair, swearing, and fluffiness (bc I don’t know any other way lol)

The engine of your 1969 Mercury Cougar roared against the asphalt as you drove down some one-lane highway in the middle of some rural town in Kansas. You pressed your foot even further on the accelerator, not minding the speed limit. You didn’t care; there wasn’t enough time.

Your eyes watched the path in front of you, bathed in the light from your headlights. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your cell phone screen light up—the buzz from it vibrating, slightly noticeable against the vinyl seat upholstery.

Without even looking at the ID, you knew who it was. You reached for the device and slid to answer—this was the fifth time he had called. He wasn’t going to stop until you obliged. “What?” You barked into the receiver of the phone.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean Winchester breathed into the phone. “You have to turn around. We need a plan. You can’t just barge in there.” You could tell he was doing everything he could to remain calm and collected; must be nice, you thought to yourself. He doesn’t have a horse in this race, so of course he wants to play it safe.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Dean,” you spat back. Your eyes blurred from the angry tears that had pooled there. You blinked—hard—to will them away. Instead, they escaped through the corners of your eyes and trailed down your face. You didn’t care.

“Dammit, Y/N,” all bets were off, and Dean had returned to his angsty, gruff self. “This is a trap, and you know it.”

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Of course, it’s a trap, Dean! But what the hell am I supposed to do?! You tell me what you would do in this situation if it were Sam,” your words dripped with bitterness, but again—you didn’t care. The emotions in you ranged from anger to annoyance to disappointment—you had trusted him, and now you felt like a fool.

“Y/N…” he trailed off.

“Exactly. You can’t tell me, because you would be doing exactly what I’m doing,” there was a fierceness behind your words that Dean hadn’t heard before. “You made your choice to stay. And you know what? That’s fine; that’s on you. I don’t even care anymore,” you tried to make your voice sound strong and sure. You wanted him to believe every word, even though you knew there was no truth to it. You did care. You cared so much it hurt physically.

“So what are you gonna do, then? Just walk in there, guns blazing? Hope you can take out a few demons before Crowley puts you out of your misery?” If he had been hurt by the words you had said, he wasn’t showing it.

You blinked against the tears a few times; the grip of your left hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m going to give him the tablet.” You pulled the phone away from your face and quickly hit ‘End’ before tossing it back on the passenger seat beside you.

-----

You weren’t sure how long it had been, exactly. You couldn’t be sure how many times you had lost consciousness at this point, but it was certainly more than once. You blinked against the darkness; your hands still secured behind your back. The ropes were still tied firmly around your ankles, making it impossible for you to budge.

Eyes closed tightly, you tried to remember what had happened—how you had gotten here. You were certain you could’ve used the tablet as leverage. Crowley would accept the tablet and in return, he would release you and your family—unharmed, back to normal.

“Ah, she’s awake,” a bright light snapped on overhead—it blinded you for a moment. You blinked against it, aggressively squinting to make out Crowley and two men in suits. Your jaw tightened as you struggled against the ropes on your wrists. Bile crept from the pit of your stomach up towards your esophagus; it burned the base of your throat. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Where are they?” You found your voice. You were disappointed by how weak it sounded. You had been hurt—you could feel the leftover gashes in your skin. Your face felt tight, so you knew there had to be dried blood there.

Crowley looked around the warehouse as he played dumb. “Who? Mummy and Daddy? Your baby sister?” He asked coyly. You grinded your teeth, your jaw ached from the pain. It wasn’t even the physical pain. The pain in your chest as you assumed the worst about your family.

“Y/N?” You heard a soft voice come from behind you. Crowley took six steps towards you and strongly lifted your chair to turn you towards the voices. There in front of you were three different racks, of sorts. You imagined these were like the racks in Hell—the racks that Dean had described in painful detail one night when you both had gotten carried away drinking.

On the first one, your father. His arms pulled back to each corner of the rack; his legs tied in the same fashion at the bottoms of the rack—spread out like an ‘X’. His head was down, and you knew he was unconscious. Blood dripped from his head—a pool of crimson red forming below him on the concrete floor. He had wounds all over his body. You couldn’t make out what was cut versus blood from other injuries.

On the second, your mother. She seemed to be awake, but barely. Her eyes were tiny slits—squinting towards you. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized she was trying to determine if you were real or just a figment of her imagination. Blood caked her hair—it had already matted in places. Her body was leaning forward, pulling her away from the rack. Your eyes were drawn to her wrists, which were being cut by the cuffs around them as gravity pulled her body forward.

And then the third rack—the rack with your baby sister. She was only two years younger than you, but you still referred to her as your baby sister. She was the one who had called your name out. She, too, was strung up just like your parents. But her core muscles allowed her to hold herself up. You could tell she was terrified—the panic made her arms move and pull at the cuffs holding her against the rack. She writhed against the metal. It made the bile bubbling like boiling acid in your stomach unavoidable. In a quick motion, you leaned to your right and your entire body heaved.

Crowley looked down at the floor, a grimace pulled over his face. And in one quick motion, his hand slapped across your face. It was such a hard slap, you were certain you had the outline of a handprint in its wake. “You dumb bitch, you yakked on my shoes!”

Your eyes glazed over; you didn’t care about the pain, or the smell of the bile. You couldn’t get past the smell of blood, and the way your sister looked at you. “Y/N,” she repeated, this time she choked out a sob. “W-What’s happening?”

Before you could speak, Crowley moved towards her. “Your sister,” he started as he paced in front of her rack. “…let’s just say she has poor decision-making skills. She had a choice,” he glanced back at you as he continued. “And she chose a Moose and a Squirrel.”

Your sister looked confused, and you didn’t blame her. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, but only for a moment. Your memories began to come back. “Crowley, I gave you the tablet! What more do you want from me?” You sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it.

In just a few swift steps, Crowley was back in front of you. The breeze from his speed made you blink as he held onto the armrests of your chair and leaned as close to your face as possible without touching. “I WANTED THE WINCHESTERS!” He screamed.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes again. “They aren’t coming!” You screamed back. “I told you, I came here alone.”

Crowley stepped back once more and it was then that you realized he had a blade in his hand. “And that’s why we’re here, puppet. That’s why we’re all here. Mummy, Daddy, little sister…”

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked slowly—so slowly, you felt like he could almost be moving backwards. It sounded so far away as you heard your sister scream. Was he really walking that slowly, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Your sister just kept screaming over and over again—blood curdling. You realized your eyes had glazed over again and you weren’t even seeing clearly. And that was when one of Crowley’s pawns put his hands on your head and turned it towards where Crowley stood in front of your sister.

You watched. He took the blade in his hand and drove it straight into her gut—her eyes were widened in horror, her mouth agape. Blood began to slowly flood her mouth and drip down to the floor. Her body was no longer able to hold her against the rack, and she fell forward—only caught by cuffs that wrapped her wrists and ankles.

“You can thank your big sis for that,” Crowley muttered loud enough for you to hear. In a swift movement, he twisted the blade completely until her head fell forward and you knew she was gone. He pulled the blade out and with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he wiped it down. “Are we having fun yet?” He turned back to you with an evil smile spread across his lips.

Your heart pounded so hard against the wall of your chest, you were certain it would thump right out of your body. But yet you wouldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. For the first time in a long time, there were no heroes. There was no saving.

One by one, Crowley made it down the line. Putting your family out of their misery. You winced with each slice—you believed something in you to be broken, as you couldn’t get out a reaction. But then you realized your face was wet, and you thought you could hear your own voice echoing off of the concrete walls of the warehouse. Maybe you were screaming, after all.

And finally, Crowley sauntered over to you. Your eyes felt heavy—like you were tired. You summed it up to a combination of the blood loss and watching your entire family be slaughtered while you sat there, unable to move.

You closed your eyes as he stood in front of you. You waited…would there be pain? Was there really a bright light? Would a Reaper come for you?

Crowley cleared his throat in front of you, causing you to open your eyes. “Here’s the deal, love,” he looked down into your eyes. “I’m going to let you sit here and stew in your own juices. I want you to feel the pain…just watching your family’s meat suits rot. And when the Winchesters inevitably show up, you tell them Crowley would like a word.” He whispered the last part so close to your ear it made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared into thin air.

And so you sat there.

Screams fell from your lips, but there was no one around to hear. Your eyes were forced to look at the bodies—this blood was on you. Your family’s blood was on you. You couldn’t save them. You could pray to Cas, but you didn’t want to. You hoped more than anything you had ever hoped for before that your blood would seep out onto the concrete floor around you, and a Reaper would come for you. Maybe you’d get lucky and it would be Tessa. She seemed pleasant…for a Reaper, anyway.

You closed your eyes. It was better than the alternative.

-------

You blinked. Once, twice…three times. Voices, you heard voices again. You had come to accept that it was your mind playing tricks on you—hallucinations, you assumed. Probably from the blood loss.

“Hey, Y/N…you hear me?” Someone was in your face. Your hallucinations were…touching you? That didn’t seem right. Then again, you had never been on the edge of death before. So you guessed it could be possible. “Sammy, she’s waking up.”

The Winchesters? You were on the brink of death and your mind decided to hallucinate the Winchesters?

Your eyes were thin slits at this point—sunken in. Your hair was matted with blood, but you felt their hands on your face, your head, your torso. Someone—Sam, you thought—had his fingers working quickly on your wrists.

“Go…away…” you muttered in between raspy breaths. You tasted blood—you weren’t sure if it was from a strand of hair that had slipped in between your lips, or if you had internal bleeding that was making its way up your throat. You didn’t care.

“Y/N, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” Dean said as he tried to keep eye contact with you. “Cas!” He practically growled. He looked up to the ceiling—waiting.

A bright light surrounded you in the room—standing before you was Cas, trench coat and all. Your eyes lulled back again, you anticipated to pass out once more. You felt arms around your middle and your head cradled in a shoulder—you knew that shoulder. It belonged to Dean.

“Fix her…please,” you felt the rumble in his chest as the words fell from his lips. You knew you weren’t lucid, but you could have sworn you sensed a hint of begging. The Dean Winchester you knew didn’t beg.

“Don’t,” even in your haze, the word slipped between your lips.

“Y/N,” Cas approached you carefully. His eyes moved over you as he assessed the damage. “If I do not heal you, you will die.”

You remained silent. Cas looked between you and Dean. “Cas!” Dean barked once more.

Within seconds, the light was brightening around you—blinding you. You squinted against it. You willed your body to writhe away from him and fall on the nearest blade. But it was too late.

The physical pain suddenly began to fade until it was gone. No open wounds, no more seeping blood. “Her injuries are healed,” Cas explained. “But it will take some time for her blood levels to normalize.” You noticed there was still ringing in your ears, and you felt a bit dizzy. But all things considered, it could have been so much worse. But that made your heart sink.

“Fuck you, Dean,” you muttered as you shoved with all the strength you had at his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes closed for a second. You moved to stand but felt lightheaded. In trying to find your way back to your seat, you almost fell. Dean caught you just before you hit the ground. “Alright, Speed Demon. Take it easy.” With one arm around your back, he dipped the other behind your knees as he lifted you bridal-style. “Dean Winchester, put me down right now,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“I can throw you over my shoulder, if you want,” he smirked. The smirk…you wanted to slap it off of his face. It took everything in you not to.

“Put…me…down,” your teeth were so gritted now you thought they might break. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” You shoved at his chest and managed to wiggle from his grasp. He held his hands up in defeat. You slowly made your way to the exit of the building and realized it had started to rain.

The gravel was wet. You were thankful it was gravel, your shoes seemed to grip it a bit better. One slow step at a time, you passed the Impala and just kept walking. The darkness was overwhelming as you moved away from the yellow street light positioned just outside the warehouse and kept moving. You didn’t know where you were going. As soon as you hit grass, you fell to your knees. A bubble formed in the pit of your stomach; you felt it roll up your body until it rumbled out of your mouth as a sob.

Your face was wet—a mixture of tears and rain. You heard the gravel shift behind you and knew he was there. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, your knees soaking through from the wet grass.

He didn’t say anything, he just kneeled directly beside you. You saw his head duck as he tried to capture his thoughts.

“Y/N—” you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

“Shove it, Dean,” you cut him off, your words bitter. “Nothing you say…” you mumbled in between sobs. “…nothing you say can fix this.”

He cleared his throat. “I know that,” his voice was a little louder as the rain pelted down around you. The droplets bounced angrily off of the metal roof behind you. He stayed silent. The rain inspired you to pour everything out.

“If you and Sam had come with me,” you shook your head as the tears continued to fall. “It just…we could have stopped Crowley, Dean! We could have done it! Every, fucking hunt you find—I follow you blindly.” You didn’t mean for your words to sound as angry as they did; or maybe you meant every emotion behind them. You didn’t care. “Every time, Dean. I never ask any questions. I trust you and I go.”

Silence.

The only sound that filled your ears was the continued fall of the rain, and your heavy sobs. You managed to turn your head to look at him. You couldn’t be certain, but his face was covered with water—was he…crying?

You had never seen Dean Winchester cry, so you really didn’t know what to make of it. Before you could do or say anything, you felt a sadness in your heart. But it wasn’t from having witnessed your family be brutally murdered before your eyes…no, that was a feeling of despair; the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. This was sadness. Sadness for your friend—the man you had grown to care for, though he didn’t know it.

“Dean,” you started. You were mad at yourself—you were supposed to be pissed off at this man sitting next to you. You should have been seeing red. But you couldn’t. You had to make sure he was okay.

“Y/N, I am so…so sorry,” he breathed out as he wiped at his face. He tried to rid his face of the tears and the rain drops as they mixed together. “I thought that we had time. I thought we could…” he trailed off as you watched his eyes move over the strands of grass in front of you as he searched for the words. “…come up with a plan. I had no idea this would happen.”

Silence again, your eyes closed as more tears slipped through your eyelids. “Of course, you didn’t know,” you finally breathed out. Desperation set in as you realized this wasn’t Dean’s fault. You wanted someone to blame; you didn’t know what to do, what to say, where to go. “I don’t have anywhere to go anymore. My family is gone; I have no one.” The words fell from your lips as quickly as they entered your brain—you hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud until Dean moved on his knees until he was in front of you and his hands were on either side of your face.

You felt the calloused pads of his thumbs swipe under your burning eyes, his wrists moved to lift your gaze to meet his. “You have us, Y/N. You have…you have me,” he said so softly you weren’t sure you had heard him. “We will always be your family. Always, do you hear me?”

Your eyes scrunched closed as you cried. You brought your hands up to his and held on for dear life. You were grasping at anything at this point; it felt as though you were drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” you mumbled as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him—desperation.

He swallowed and nodded as he pulled his hands back. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with us,” he nodded, like he was trying to convince himself that he truly understood.

“No, Dean…this. Life, how am I supposed to even keep going?” Had you heard yourself speak this way a day ago, you would have been disgusted with yourself and how weak you sounded. But it was different now, and you didn’t care.

“Listen to me,” he reached for your face again—his eyes bore into yours. “It’s not easy, and I get that. The shitty part about life and what we do, is that we lose people. It happens way too often, and it never gets easier,” he said firmly. “But what you’re gonna do is come back to the bunker, get some rest and let us help you.”

The tears continued to fall—at this point, you had no idea how there were any tears left. But you were too tired and weak to fight him. Dean was too strong to fight when you were operating at one hundred percent; there was no way you could fight him now.

His eyes moved between yours as he studied your features. When he realized there was no longer resistance, he stood up from his spot on the grass and leaned down. He scooped you up into his arms—one arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. The exhaustion was overpowering as your head hit his shoulder and you closed your eyes. The rain continued to beat against your hot flesh.

Sam opened the passenger door to the Impala while Dean helped you sit up. He grabbed your keys and tossed them to Sam. After closing your door, he had a few words with Sam before getting in the driver’s side. There were no words; just the hum of the engine as Dean drove you back to the bunker.

-----

Back at the bunker, numbness had set in. You had always heard of the Stages of Grief, but you never imagined going through them.

You felt tears bubble again; dammit. You hated crying—everything about it. The emotion, in general, but then also the congestion, the swollen eyes, the overall puffiness in your face. Dean had you on the edge of the bed facing the wall of your room in the bunker, he had just kneeled down in front of you. His eyes looked over your face and you could tell: Dean Winchester was trying to fix you. But there was no fixing this unless he found away to reverse time or bring your family back.

“Hey,” he breathed. His thumb ran small circles over your denim covered knee. “Listen, I know you’re going through it right now…” he trailed off. “But you’ve gotta get out of those wet clothes. You’re cold, you gotta get changed.” You could tell his brain was picking each word so carefully, which wasn’t very Dean Winchester-esque.

You hadn’t realized you were cold until you noticed your body was physically shaking. “I don’t care.” You breathed.

“Dammit, Y/N,” he muttered and stood up. His jaw tightened as he tried to control his frustration. He rubbed his hand over his face as he paced around your bedroom, one hand in his jean’s pocket, the other over his mouth, resting on his chin.

“I’m too tired, Dean. I just…I can’t,” you begged the tears to stop falling, but your body wasn’t listening. He turned back to you and you could see the sadness wash over his features.

“Well, will you let me help you?” He asked, calmer now as he realized you were just mentally and physically done.

You shuddered at the thought, but this time it wasn’t from the chill of the air on your wet clothes. This was something much deeper; something that had developed months ago but you had worked so hard to push out of your heart. You didn’t have the will to fight it anymore. You nodded carefully, a small nod—but you had been sure he had seen it.

His eyes watched yours and he nodded; he moved towards the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajama pants and an over-sized hoodie. He brought them back to the bed and cleared his throat. You could tell he was trying to keep this as professional as possible—he just wanted to take care of you. Dean put his hand out in front of you and you carefully took it. He helped pull you to your feet so you were standing just in front of him.

“Arms up,” he whispered. You brought your arms up to about your shoulders and winced, a slight pain on your left side just under your breast. Concern covered his face as his forehead creased. “You alright?” He pulled up your shirt and identified the culprit—there was a pretty solid bruise just under your bra. “Dammit, Cas healed you…” he seemed worried.

“To be fair,” you breathed. “There were a lot of injuries to heal. One healing session might not have cut it.”

He nodded in agreement and carefully continued to help you pull off your shirt. You had forgotten that you would be standing in front of Dean with your bra fully visible. The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you avoided eye contact. He cleared his throat again—clearly a bit uncomfortable himself. He reached for your hoodie and slid the arms on first before pulling it over your head.

You managed a small smile as your head popped through the hole at the top of the hoodie. “Thanks, Dean.” Your words were soft, and for a moment he thought he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Don’t thank me…” his eyes moved between yours again. “I am just…Y/N, I’ll never stop being sorry.” You could see the pain in his eyes; the guilt.

“Dean, I had no right to blame you,” you shook your head. There they were again—the fucking tears. And that’s when it hit you; it all hit you square in the face. You had been so hurt when Dean wouldn’t go, because you trusted him blindly—because you loved him. You loved him, and you wanted him to love you—to trust you.

“You alright?” He watched your eyes as you contemplated all of this.

You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I just…” you hesitated; you weren’t brave enough to confess your findings to Dean. But then again, your mind went back to your family…your loved ones. If you had learned anything tonight, it was that life is short and time is fast—and Dean had even been the one to say it; we lose people. You decided against your better judgment and just went for it. “I think I blamed you because I trusted you, and I wanted you to trust me.”

Dean had his hands on your face once more. “I do trust you, Y/N—”

You cut in before he could finish. “No, I know. But I realized I trust you so much because…because I love you.” Your eyes found his yet again. They darted quickly between his green orbs to try and get a sense for what he was thinking. But you couldn’t read him; you couldn’t tell what was happening in his brain. “And…and I wanted you to love me, too.” You prayed it didn’t sound as pathetic as it felt coming off of your lips; but, no regrets. You didn’t want to regret anything, not after tonight.

Without another word, his lips were on yours. They moved against you feverishly; it was as though he had yearned for this moment just as much as you had, if not more. One hand remained on your cheek, steadying you. The other moved to your hip and slipped under your hoodie, gently grasping onto the warm skin on your lower back to pull you closer.

He pulled back and you felt your chest heave as you came up for air. His eyes danced over yours again, this time reflecting a glint of…hope? Affection, maybe? Passion? You couldn’t be certain.

But then he licked his lips, his eyes traveled between your eyes and your now swollen lips. “I love you, too.” He murmured before his lips slowly caressed yours once more.

And in that moment, you felt whole again.

-------------------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I meant to finish this yesterday, but the episode last night about broke me in two and I couldn’t write. Please let me know your thoughts!! My reading requests are open (submit via the Ask Me! link on my page). Please re-blog, like, etc.! All mistakes made in this are my own, please don’t re-post anywhere off of Tumblr :)

xx S

[lemonpeter]

Day 9 - Cuckolding (Peter/Pepper/Tony)

I finally got it finished, I hope everyone enjoys. This was a lot of fun to write, even if my brain and life is a bit of a messy distraction right now lol but I hope the story is enjoyable! 🧡

Warnings: sort of femdom, seems like infidelity (but it’s mentioned that they all want it), cuckolding, oral sex (female receiving), age difference, humiliation, married Tony/Pepper

————

“Ma’am, I can hear him outside the door,” Peter whispered, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of Pepper’s thigh.

The woman hummed, hips rocking forward gently in an attempt to get closer to Peter’s mouth. “Good. Now, that tongue should be used for something other than talking. Let him hear us.”

Her hand tangled in his curls and he could feel the weight of her wedding ring against his head.

Despite knowing they all wanted it, there was still a bit of a pit in his stomach. She was Mr. Stark’s wife.

But he kept going anyways, diving in and licking over her slit. She was soaked. He couldn’t tell if it was from his previous actions or the knowledge that they would be caught by Tony.

As he ate her out she was loud, not holding back any. She didn’t even need to put on an act. For a young, fairly inexperienced guy, he knew just how to work her. It was incredible.

It only went on for a about a minute and a half before there was a soft knock at the door.

When neither of them responded - too caught up in their fun and knowing that they were supposed to ignore him - the door handle started turning and Tony slowly made his way into the room. His pupils blew wide at the sight of them.

His wife, legs spread wide with her head hanging back in pleasure, pussy being absolutely devoured by his much younger mentee.

He knew he was a dirty, dirty man. He should have felt guilty. Instead he was harder than he could ever remember being, gripping himself through his pants.

“Pep,” he whispered, voice breathy. He was going for upset, maybe even betrayed. But if the smirk that spread across her lips told him anything, she knew exactly how horny the situation made him.

“What is it, Tony?” Pepper mumbled, whimpering as Peter’s tongue slid across her clit roughly. “A little busy here.”

Tony watched them intently, eyes wide and dark. “I can see that. Why didn’t you just ask me? Honey-“

“You and I both know that you don’t have what it takes to satisfy me anymore,” she said cooly.

Maybe Tony should have been offended at how easily that line came to her. But he was the one who had wanted to be humiliated. So he figured all was fair game.

(And hearing her say it made his dick twitch, so he couldn’t be too upset.)

“What do you mean?” The older man asked, eyes flicking between his wife’s face and the young man between her legs. He couldn’t keep his focus, especially with the filthy sounds they were making.

Peter glanced up for a moment, making eye contact with Tony as he simultaneously slid two fingers into Pepper and gently nipped at her clit.

The woman didn’t answer Tony’s question instantly, crying out from the new sensations which were clearly her priority. “Oh, fuck, Peter. That’s it. That’s it,” she gasped, hips jerking.

Then, after a moment, she seemed to remember her husband. “You don’t know anything about my pleasure and you only care about yours. If you can even get it up you don’t last long enough for me to even think about finishing,” she whimpered, eyes slipping shut again as Peter seemed to hit a particularly good spot inside of her.

Peter’s fingers were quick, fucking into her with no resistance with how wet she was. His tongue stayed working as well, alternating lapping at her swollen clit and the slick that flooded out with his movements. He couldn’t deny that being the ‘other man’ was something of a fantasy of his, even if the other (consenting) participant was his boss.

And long time celebrity crush.

Tony groaned as he watched them, gripping at himself again before just undoing the button and zipper of his pants. At least it gave him more room to breathe. “Look, I’ve got it now, honey. You don’t need him...”

“I’ve never been eaten out like this.” She knew Tony was talented with his mouth, but she knew he wanted to be hurt. Even if it was all lies and they all knew it. “I never want your pathetic cock in me again.”

He moaned softly. “Fuck, Pep...” he moved to a chair they had across the bed specifically for the occasion. He sat down, legs spread as he pushed all fabric out of the way in order to get a hand on his aching cock. Stroking himself slowly, he looked at the new angle he got for the scene.

From behind he could mostly see Peter, entranced by the way that the young man moved. He was always high energy and this wasn’t an exception. Every action was purposeful and that much was obvious. And in addition to how he was attending to Pepper, Tony could see his hips thrusting weakly. He couldn’t imagine it was doing much, the man was on his knees and not even against anything. But he didn’t seem to mind.

Then he was snapped out of his thoughts when Pepper’s hand tightened in Peter’s hair, a high moan leaving her. “Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m close!”

Tony’s hand moved faster on himself as she watched how her mouth hung open in ecstasy, hips twitching forward almost in a rhythm. Despite starting only minutes ago, he could already feel the tight coil winding in his belly, nearly ready to snap. But he gripped himself gently, tugging his balls to ensure he wouldn’t finish too quickly.

He wanted humiliation, but not that much.

Peter could feel the slick muscles tightening around his fingers, but he didn’t stop. He looked up, eyes wide as he kept going until he felt her release, shuddering and contracting around him.

“Fuck!” She nearly screamed, hips bucking up as she came.

Peter kept his fingers moving so that she could ride it out, laughing a little as he felt her squirt on his face. “Mrs. Potts...” he grinned, licking his lips. He slowly pulled his fingers away, moving them into his mouth.

Pepper made eye contact with him and laughed. But the laugh was more exhale than anything. “I’m never gonna take Tony back if you keep this up,” she teased, still fairly breathless.

The man in question groaned, fucking into his fist faster as he listened to them. “Don’t say that, honey, you know you love me.”

She hummed, pulling Peter up to stand between her legs at the edge of the bed. “But I love his mouth...I’m sure I’ll love his cock. Why shouldn’t I have both? It’s not like you know what to do with that thing anyways.”

Tony moaned again, back arched as he kept stroking himself quickly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Pep, come here. Want you to finish me...”

Pepper watched him for a moment before leaning in and kissing Peter hard, humming at the taste of her on his tongue. She slowly pulled away when she kept listening to her husband, looking as unamused as she could manage.

But Peter turned to look at him, biting his lip. Of course he was turned on by the entire situation. And he definitely wanted to watch the older man cum. Even if he wasn’t helping.

This time.

It didn’t take much longer for Tony to get to his end, stilling and going tense as he came. Cum spurted from the tip, leaving warm lines up his shirt that he hadn’t removed. “God, Pepper...” he murmured. “Peter...”

Peter shivered hard at his name being moaned.

Once Tony had ridden out his orgasm, Peter bit his lip. “Did you enjoy that, sir?” He asked shyly.

“Kid, we’ve got to do that again. But-“

“Next time you’re fucking me,” Pepper said confidently. She kissed the young man again, smirking.

Tony laughed. “That’s what I was going to say, yes. But maybe I should be worried about how quick she was to say that.”

Pepper chuckled, slowly pulling away from Peter to move to her husband. “You know I love you. And I didn’t mean anything I said. I love your dick,” she said teasingly. “Can’t help knowing what I want, though. And I want a piece of that.” She nodded towards Peter.

“Oh come on, who doesn’t?” Tony commented. “Speaking of...he’s the only one that didn’t get to finish. And I think we owe it to him to help.”

“We definitely do,” Pepper agreed, grinning.