#and then he let him hold onto it after the chemical attack bc he was out of work for so long

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

also jensens post-work, headphones on, don't talk to me game is a little to the left. absolutely his fav

[aerynwrites]

The Hidden Chapter One: The Chroigs

Author’s Note: Do I have unfinished requests? yes I do. Am I starting a ‘The Mandalorian’ Fanfiction. Yes the hell I am. so sorry not sorry. I’m a mess. I apologize. BUT! thank you to @baby-yoda-is-my-life for inspiring to actually write for this man because i have been wanting to for so long but lacked motivation UNTIL- I read their Mandalorian fic which you should all go check out please and thank you. best thing you’ll ever read i promise! Okay now onto this fic that i hope isn’t an absoulte train wreck...

P.S. Yes i made up a species bc i didn’t know many star wars animals sooooo yeah.

Warnings: cursing. cute baby yoda (cuteness needs a warning okay?) and that’s it i think.

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapters: One (you’re here), Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

//

Dyn trudged through the thick jungle, the small green child held securely in his arms. He had found this planet several weeks ago, continuing to try and avoid the ruthless bounty hunters after his charge. He cursed silently as he pushed through the brush attempting to get them both back to the ship.

Why did he choose the jungle planet again?

He shook his head absentmindedly and continued his trek. The small bundle in his arms cooed impatiently grasping at his hand.

He sighed, looking down at the large black orbs staring up at him, “Yes I know, we’re almost back to the ship.”

The child gurgled, seemingly content with what the Mandalorian said, and looked forward just as they broke through into a clearing, their ship two hundred yards away.

Dyn sighed contentedly, “See I told you it-“he cut himself off as he heard rustling in the foliage on either side of the clearing. He stops moving, assessing the situation as his hand rests cautiously on his blaster. Before he can react two large canine beast lunges from the forest surrounding them.

They’re like nothing the man had ever seen before.

They’re large with green fur and eyes as yellow as the sun, and more worryingly, two teeth as long as his arm protruding from their mouths. He pulls the child closer to himself as the beast’s circle around him.

For the first time in a long time, Dyn doesn’t know what to do. He can’t attack both dogs at once and can’t attack one without putting the child at risk. He sees the beast move to an attack position and finally pulls the blaster from his belt. But before he can use is a small metal cannister lands between him and the beasts with a small thud. The animal looks at it curiously before the contraption starts spewing a bright blue smoke. The animals sniff curiously but are quickly affected by whatever chemical was in the cannister. The huff loudly and cry in confusion before running off into the dark forest.

Dyn quickly puts distance between himself and the smoke, while he is unaffected because of his helmet, the kid is unprotected. He stumbles slightly in his haste and falls to the ground. The crunching of leaves in front of him has him quickly pointing his blast in the same direction.

“Woah there buddy, calm down!” he quickly spots you standing in front of him, hands held up in surrender. Your appearance is non-threatening, you wear dark green and brown clothing with a black cape much like his own around your shoulders, but a hood and piece of cloth covers your head, mouth, and nose. the only weapons you seem to have are a staff and several cannisters hooked to your belt.

He lowers his blaster, somewhat appeased you won’t hurt him and offer your hand to him. he brushes off the gesture and stands on his own, cautiously putting his blaster back in his holster.

“What was in that cannister?” he asks gruffly.

You huff and cross your arms, “I feel like a thank you is in order.” You say sarcastically.

He takes a threatening step forward, “What was in it?”

You step back, a slight frustration taking over, and rip your mask from your face, “What does it matter what was in it, you have a helmet and I just saved your ass!” how could he be so ungrateful?

He takes another step forward about to demand once again but a soft cooing sound interrupts him. you are caught off guard by the small sound and point confusedly at the small brown bundle in his arms.

“Is that why you want to know what was in those cannisters?”

The Mandalorian sighs frustratedly, finally holstering his weapon, “Yes.” he states simply.

You have to stifle a giggle and wave your hand absentmindedly, “nothing bad” you reassure, “just some local plants and herbs that the Chroigs do not like.”

“Chroigs?”

You shrug, craning your head slightly to try and get a better look at the bundle in Dyn’s arms, “Those things I just saved you from,” when Dyn moved to shield the child from your eyes you sighed and relaxed, “something which you still haven’t thanked me for by the way.”

He pauses for a moment, looking towards you curiously, “Thank you.”

You nod matter-of-factly an appeased smile on your face, “You’re welcome.”

The Mandalorian just nods before turning on towards his ship and walking away. You start to let him go before a strong curiosity and somewhat empathetic feeling washes over you. He clearly was not from around here, and someone who isn’t from here won’t last long.

“Hey!” you call and jog to catch him before he enters his ship.

He turns slightly towards you as you come to a stop, “Um,” you begin awkwardly, “I uh-I have extra room at my house in the village.”

Dyn doesn’t say anything but turns to face you fully now.

You roll your eyes and huff, “ look all I’m saying is, this place isn’t a vacation spot. If you’re looking to stay a while it’s better to be around people who know the place rather than try and deal with this all on your own,” you gesture to the child, “especially with a kid.”

Dyn looks from you, the small yet powerfully clever woman who saved him, down to the child in his arms. He sighs, looking up at you and nods.

You smile warmly happy that he accepted your offer, “Great!” you stick your hand out, “My names (Y/N).”

The Mandalorian hesitantly reaches his hand out to grasp yours and shakes it firmly, but doesn’t produce a name.

You notice the warmth his hand gives off, even through the gloves, before he drops it. You tils your head curiously, “No name?”

He shakes his head, “No name.”

You splutter and follow him into the ship as sets the child down carefully and starts to gather various supplies into a large backpack.

“Well what am I supposed to call you?” you ask exasperated.

“Whatever you want to call me.”

You open your mouth to tell him that is the stupidest thing ever and ask why he can’t just give you his name, when he shrugs on his bag and picks up the bundle once again. And that’s when you finally see the adorable little creature.

You practically melt at the sight of the small green child and move towards the man holding him. you coo sweetly at him as he grasps for your fingers.

“Oh maker…” you let him grasp your finger tentatively and scream internally when the child lets out a laugh, “He is so adorable! Can I please hold him?” you look hopefully up at the Mandalorian but brushes past you and out of the ships door.

“No.”

You follow behind him quickly as he shuts the ship and look at him as you start to lead the way to your home.

“But why not?” you whined, “I promise I’ll be super careful!”

“No.” he said more firmly.

You sighed and rolled your eyes but didn’t press the issue anymore. You continue to walk in silence, and you spare a quick glance at the duo beside you. You’re still puzzled as to why a Mandalorian is on your plant and has a child with him. you have no clue as to what the answer is, and you have a feeling that it’s not going to be easy to get the man to open up about why they are here.

You smile coyly as you look ahead once more.

Challenge accepted.

[langdvnshepherd]

Good For You ~ Epilogue (Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader)

PART ONE ~ PART TWO ~ PART THREE ~ PART FOUR

MASTERLIST

Summary: You’re a broke ass college student whose one night stand with the infamous Duncan Shepherd leads to the development of a rather interesting relationship between the two of you.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: sugar daddy!Duncan, fem!reader, smut, daddy kink, voyeurism (sort of? not really but), lost of fluff hehe 

A/N: Surprise bitch, I bet you thought you’d seen the last of sugar daddy!Duncan and Y/N 😏. Since everyone seemed to be feelin some type of way that Part 4 was the last part, I figured I’d finish them off with a cute lil sum sum bc why the hell not lmao. This also kinda fits in line with it being finals szn, so for all my thotties still in school, enjoy!! Also I barely proofread this pls forgive me. Once again, thanks for all of the kind words about my writing, it means the world to be as always!

     A set of keys rattling on the other side of Duncan’s apartment door indicated her arrival. They jangled rapidly, as if getting inside was of utmost importance. Duncan knew exactly who it was, as only two other people in the world had a key to his place. Annette, whom he’d only recently just reconciled with after the earth-shattering news that revealed she wasn’t actually his mother, had taken off to Mexico earlier that week to tend to international ties with The Shepherd Freedom Foundation, so it wasn’t her. Which led him to believe that only other person, a person he’d been thinking an awful lot about lately, could possibly be making their way into his apartment...

-

     “I DID IT!” you yelled as you bolted through the front door of Duncan’s, well yours and Duncan’s, apartment. Probably a little too loud for his neighbor’s liking, but you were too excited to give a shit. Paying no mind to behave like a civilized human being, you dropped everything at the entryway and jumped over the back of the quilted leather sofa to plummet into Duncan’s lap; textbooks, designer bag, and the obnoxiously large keyring to your new Audi (an anniversary present from Duncan), all clanking to the floor in one large pile.

     Duncan grunted in response, the weight of you crashing on top of him so suddenly knocked the breath out of him. His face quickly became consumed by a genuine, ear-to-ear smile as he remembered what you had set off to do this morning.

     “I knew you would,” he stated matter-of-factly as his arms wrapped securely and comfortably around your waist, his lips reaching over to plant a quick kiss on your lips before you told him all about the day you’d just had.

     In the years that the two of you actually spent together as a couple, you’d come to realize many things about the infamous Duncan Shepherd. One being that he loved physical contact. He wasn’t quick to expose that side of himself back when he was considered strictly as your sugar daddy, but that passing of time had made him soft. He loved touches. Even little touches like pressing his knee against yours under the table during boring gala dinners, or rubbing small circles on the underside of your ass while his head was between your legs. Duncan lacing his arms around you had become customary, part of your daily routine when either of you came home for the night.

     “The department loved my thesis. They said my research was impeccable, and that there wasn’t a single thing I could have done to improve it. I’m set to graduate in two weeks!” you gloated, and you damn well reserved the right to. 

     For the past 3 years, you’d been working on your thesis for graduate school, and it just about took every ounce of sanity you had left. You couldn’t count the number of days and nights you’d spent huddled over a textbook or sobbing into your laptop because your numbers weren’t coming out right or you felt like your argument was pointless. But Duncan was there for you through it all. He saw how drained you were for months on end, and wanted to make sure he was doing everything he could. You quit your job, finally giving into Duncan’s pleads to let him cover your expenses full time. You’d even been living with him for just over a year now, not counting the many, unofficial months prior when a large collection of your bras and underwear had mysteriously taken over drawers of Duncan’s dresser. Your roommate was pissed after finding out you were abandoning her to move in with your boyfriend, but she quickly retracted her remarks upon realizing she’d be able to visit Duncan’s lavish apartment whenever she pleased. 

     “So I’m guessing my little stress reliever really helped take the edge off for your presentation then, hmm?” he snidely remarked, referring to last night, when his fingers worked you over the edge repeatedly. You’d been up all night worrying, sleep being the furthest thing from your mind. Duncan begged and pleaded for you to come to bed, but you refused. Too many last minute diagrams to perfect and statistics to memorize before your thesis defense the next morning. He’d somehow managed to coax you into the satin of his sheets with the promise of a good night’s sleep. There was no teasing, no holding back, just Duncan making you feel so incredibly good, knocking you into a deep slumber in no time.

     “I just got my fucking master’s degree, and you want to try to make this about yourself?” you sarcastically jabbed, playfully shoving Duncan’s shoulders against the back of the couch.

     He pretended to be hurt, unwinding one arm from your waist to dramatically massage the skin where you’d pushed him.

     “I’m teasing, dove. You wanna go out? I’m feeling like this calls for a celebration. We can go to that new seafood restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. You have to have a reservation, but I could probably get us in.”

     “Can we just stay in? I’ve been standing in these heels for hours and I really don’t feel like talking to anyone else,” you muttered while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, the exhaustion evident in your body language.

“Of course,” he replied, resting his chin on the top of your head while brushing his fingertips absentmindedly across your forearm. “I can call in something. What are you in the mood for? Sushi? Thai?”

     “Can we order pizza from that place by my old apartment?” you asked, a cheeky grin creeping its way onto your face. You knew damn well the reaction that suggestion would get out of him. You’d gotten Duncan to eat there once, but only once. After some begging on your part, Duncan agreed to give it a shot. His upbringing consisted of caviar and charcuteries, meaning greasy, $2 a slice pizza automatically made his stomach churn. He ate it, but not without complaining the entire time. Despite growing accustomed to Duncan’s ways after being with him for so long, you still yearned for that shitty, cheesy, pumped-full-of-chemicals pizza that had comforted you on many drunken nights while walking back to your old apartment.

     Duncan pulled back from where he was cuddled into you to reveal the most genuine, stink face you had ever seen. His lips were pressed together firmly and turned down in disgust and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. Clearly not amused.

     “You’re joking, right?”

     “Serious as a heart attack, handsome,” you rattled your fingertips against his peck for emphasis, peering up at him with doe eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

     He paused for a moment longer, praying you’d suggest something, anything, else besides that stupid fucking pizza he hated so much. He honestly didn’t see how people could stomach food like that, but he wasn’t going to crush your spirits on your special day.

     Realizing you weren’t budging on your wishes, he audibly groaned.

     “You’re lucky I have a hard time saying no to you. You know that, right?”

     “As if you ever would, Donut.”

     He suppressed a chuckle at the nickname you’d recently picked given him, still trying to seem annoyed.

     “Whatever, brat.” He snorted effortlessly flicked your legs off of his lap, sauntering towards the kitchen to grab his phone and place an order for what he considered the worst meal on the planet.

-

     Somewhere along the line, the pizza had long been forgotten. Maybe it was when you’d purposely reached over Duncan to grab the tv remote, making sure he got an eyeful of your breasts as you moved. Or maybe it was when you’d kissed him to shut him up amidst his incessant bitching about how the pizza tasted like it had been left out in the hot sun for 3 days. However it went down, you’d found yourself straddled across Duncan’s lap, his hands clutched tightly at your waist, occasionally roaming down to your ass to grind you against his hardening cock.

     You felt your core pulsing beneath you as Duncan ground his hips against yours, arousal pooling at your entrance. As old as Duncan was, he was always in the mood, ready to take you whenever and wherever. He had situated his body so that his legs were propped up on the cushions and his back was leaning against the stiff armrest, where he was able to hold your body as close to his as possible with ease. You were lost in the moment, not thinking of anything or anyone else except the way Duncan was making you feel.     Once you were able to pry Duncan’s hands from of your ass, you withdrew your lips from his with a pop. Sliding down his body, you held eye contact with him as you reached for the buckle on his belt, eyes blown with desire. Duncan had this look on his face like he was contemplating doing something or saying something, but he certainly didn’t want you to stop either. He let you undo his belt buckle and unzip his trousers, making one less layer between you and his aching cock. You pressed your lips over the cotton of his boxers, making him groan as you mouthed at his erection that was begging to be set free.     Just as you reached for the waistband of his boxers, Duncan gripped you by your wrists.     “What? Are you okay?” you stopped suddenly. Duncan was never one to put things on hold, especially when your pretty, little lips were mere inches away from where he wanted you most.     “Put your shoes on, I need to show you something.”     “You’re joking, right?” you asked, sitting up from your place between his legs.

     “Serious as a heart attack, angel,” he responded, batting his eyelashes and speaking in a sing-song voice, clearly mocking your words from earlier on in the evening. 

     “Come on, let’s get in the car.”

     Glancing down at the bulge in boxers, you gave him one last, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of this first?” look. He simply smiled in return, taking your hand in his to help you up from the couch.

-

     The car ride lasted for what felt like an eternity, largely due to the fact that Duncan had used one of the emergency ties he kept in his backseat to blindfold you, making you completely unaware of where he was taking you. You begged and pleaded for Duncan to tell you where you were going, but he wouldn’t budge. It was a surprise, he insisted.

     “Is it a dog?”

     “Jesus, no.”

     “A cat?”

     “Absolutely not, Y/N.”

     “A bird?”

     “Why would I blindfold you to take you to get a fucking bird?”

     “I don’t know, Dunc? Why did you throw me in your Bentley and blindfold me at 11 o’clock at night anyway, hmm?

     “Will you just drop it? You’ll see when we get there.” He was annoyed but the tone of voice let you know he was still entertained by your whining. You knew he was smirking despite not being able to see anything but the darkness that the blindfold allowed.

     “Fine, but a dog would still be nice.”

     The rest of the way consisted of silence; the whirring of the engine and the breeze of the air conditioner being the only sounds filling the confines of Duncan’s car. You tugged at the tie around your eyes, trying to stealthily catch a glimpse of a highway sign that would even slightly indicate where you were headed. He caught you every time, scolding you and sarcastically threatening to drop you off on the side of the road if you tried it again.

     Suddenly, you felt Duncan applying pressure to the brakes, the car slightly jerking as he shifted the gear to park. Finally. Whatever Duncan was planning was about to be unveiled.

     Your hand wrapped around the back of the tie, attempting to undo the knot and take in your surroundings. Duncan was quicker, swatting your hands away before you could slip the fabric away from your eyes.

     “Not yet. I’ll tell you when you can look.”

     Exhaustingly, you threw your head back into the headrest of the seat with a sigh.

     “Will you stop being dramatic? We’ll be inside in like 10 seconds.” You couldn’t see him, but you knew his eyes were rolled so far back into his head they might have fallen out.

     You heard the click of the door handle, and felt Duncan’s hand on your elbow, prompting you to step out of his car. Your shoes scraped against pavement, meaning he hadn’t driven you into the middle of the woods to kill you. What a relief.

     He guided your steps with his fingers laced in yours, oddly soothing you as your anxiety was climbing at not having any idea where you could possibly be. The air outside was crisp, slightly chilly due to the time of night. The only noise coming from outside was the continuous chirping of crickets and other critters alike. Wherever you were, it was secluded.

     “Okay, stay right there. Don’t move.” Duncan commanded, patting you once on the shoulder before leaving your side.

     You heard four electronic pings and the whoosh of a door swinging open like he was hitting buttons on a keypad. Where the fuck were you?

     Duncan’s hands were back on your arms in a moment’s notice, guiding you over the threshold of the door he had just opened.

     “Watch your step.”

     Immediately, the smell of fresh wood and chemicals filled your nostrils. Yours and Duncan’s steps echoed loudly throughout the space as he continued to lead you; the harmony of the various sounds of the outdoors no longer present. 

     “You ready?” Duncan asked, speaking low into your ear, the stubble of his beard just barely ghosting over the nape of your neck.

     “Been ready since you blindfolded me an hour ago, Dunc.” you fired back.

     Duncan was too tired to comment on any more of your whining, he just chuckled lightly in response, pressing a kiss to your temple over the thick material of the tie. 

     Antagonizingly slow, his fingers worked at the knot. He knew what he was doing, pissing you off even more by dragging it out. Duncan could feel the way you froze in your spot, your chest barely moved with each breath and your hands were frozen at your side; indicating your skyrocketing anxiety. He was nervous too, but you weren’t currently in the position to be able to notice the way his heart looked like it was going to beat out of his chest.

     The tie fell from your eyes, ribboning to the ground and pooling around your feet. And then you saw it.

     The ceilings had to have been at least twenty feet high. The walls were stark white, the one at the far end covered almost entirely with a seamless, glass window. There was a grand staircase in the middle, leading to a breezeway that overlooked the space you were currently standing in. You put it together. You were in a house, and a fucking huge one at that.

     Nothing occupied the space. No furniture, no art hanging on the wall, not a single indication that anyone even lived here. It was empty.

     “Duncan, where are we?” you asked, too entranced by your surroundings to turn around and look at him as you spoke.

     He came around to your side, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

     “Home.”

     You broke away from his hold to look directly into his eyes, unconvinced that he’d just said what you thought you heard.

     “What?” it came out as barely a whisper.

     Duncan nudged his head forwards, prompting you to follow him. He paced himself, creeping along against the marble tile. You were further into the house now, catching new details you weren’t able to see from the front door. No words were spoken, just Duncan steering you throughout the first floor with his hands crossed behind his back. There was a kitchen, a kitchen at least three times bigger than the one in Duncan’s apartment with a double oven and appliances that looked far too advanced than anything you’d ever seen. Connected to the space was what would be a dining room, big enough for a table that could seat at least twelve. Duncan stopped just as were standing in front of the ginormous, granite island resting in the center of the kitchen.

     “You made a comment a couple months back,” Duncan began, turning to face you.

     “Something about how my closet was getting cramped because of how many pairs of shoes we both had. It got me thinking. I’m older now. Got a good head on my shoulders. I‘ve got you. Why am I still living in an apartment like a twenty-something bachelor? So I started looking at houses. And then I found this one. I was gonna wait until the renovations were done before I told you. There’s still a couple more things they need to do upstairs and some electrical work here and there, but other than that it’s basically finished. You looked really happy tonight, and it made me not want to wait any longer so....here we are. Happy graduation, I guess.”

     You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek, too busy staring at Duncan to register the buildup in your tear ducts. He looked at you like he always did when he professed his feelings to you, with genuine, whole-hearted, adoration. With love.

     “This is our house?”

     “This is our house.,” Duncan confirmed, a confident smile on his face.

     “I even made them put in a bigger tub ‘cause I know important bathtime is to you. And the closet is extra roomy. But if it’s not enough, you can just use one of the many spare rooms for all of your things. I know I tend to go a bit-overboard-with my gift-giving.” 

     A silent laugh escaped your chest, huffs of air expelling from your mouth each time. 

     “Duncan Shepherd, I love you.”

     “And I love you, Y/N Y/LN. I can’t wait to live here with you.” 

     He brought you in for a kiss, cupping your cheeks in both hands as his lips melted into yours. You broke away in a smile, shifting your way out of Duncan’s grasp to look once more at what looked like the abyss that you would soon call home. 

     “Can you see it?” Duncan spoke up as your eyes wondered. “A giant sectional back by that room we first saw when we walked in, a dining room table over there. Black obviously. Maybe some plants over by the windows.” 

     And you could. You could see it. Duncan’s weird art hanging on the walls in the entryway, both of your cars parked side by side in the driveway you assumed was wide enough to back a bus into given what you were already looking at. It already felt like home, despite being an empty shell of one.

     In your trance, you’d seemed to have missed when Duncan walked up behind you, pressing his chest against your back. His hands had started at your waist; rubbing soft, soothing circles against your hips bones. Inch by inch, he ever so slowly trailed his fingers up your body towards your chest, where they were now purchased just below the swell of your breasts.

     “I can see you in here,” Duncan started, his hot breath fanning over your collarbones, littering your skin with goosebumps. “Standing in this very spot. Making breakfast in your underwear. Those cute, little pancakes you like to make on Saturday mornings-”

     “They’re crepes, Duncan. You know that.” you snickered, burrowing further into his arms and his touch.

     He kissed the sweet spot along your jawline, knowing all too well the reaction he’d get out of you. A soft gasp blooming from your lips halted you from speaking any longer. You were suddenly reminded of where you left off back at Duncan’s apartment. Already feeling the stirring in your abdomen at the thought.

     Duncan leaned forward with you still in his grasp, laying his elbows flush with the granite slab of the island. He moved his kisses from your neck to your shoulders, and then to your back just at the top of your spine.

     “Do we have neighbors?” you questioned, certain that anyone could see the two of you through the ginormous window. The lights were on and the house was empty, meaning your bodies stuck out like sore thumbs. It wouldn’t take a genius to catch onto what was happening. You already knew where this was going, especially since you could feel Duncan hardening against the backside of your thigh. 

     “Not yet. They’re building another house down the street, but even then it’s still about a quarter of a mile away,” he answered in between pressing kisses on your jugular. “Plus trees. And hedges. No one can see us, babe.” 

     “Good, because I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

     In seconds you felt the bone-chilling cold from the stone of the kitchen island pressed against your cheek. Duncan pressed you down on your stomach to lay as flat as you could on the granite, reinforcing you with his toned arm. Your arms splayed out at your sides, fingers spaced out pushing yourself down even further.

     Duncan’s other hand reached down to the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up around your waist and resting it on your back. The warmth of his fingers caressed your ass before he withdrew them briefly to unzip his own trousers. As he freed his leaking cock from his boxers, you felt the head brush just slightly against your skin, beadlets of precum spreading across your cheeks. Duncan swiftly tugged your panties to the side, desperate to feel you against his digits.

    He started at your entrance, gathering the wetness seeping from your core with his fingertips. In slow, calculated patterns, he circles his way up to your clit, the contact making you shiver. A small moan fell from your lips, finally getting the action you sought out hours ago at dinner.

     “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping. Tell me, who is the only one that do this to you?” he asked in fake perplexion.

     “You do,” you’d somehow been able to muster throughout the sea of pleasure provided to you by Duncan and his long, skillful fingers.

     “It’s all for you. Every time, daddy.” you grinned against the coldness of the granite. 

    Duncan was content with your answer, as a low groan rumbled from his chest in response. He leaned forward once more, so his lips brushed the shell of your ear and his chest molded into your back.

    “You ready for me, love?”

    “Mhmm,” was all you’d managed to get out.

    His fingers were replaced with the tip of his cock, swirling his member along your cunt to prepare himself for the stretch. He pressed his fingers into you once more, using the collected slick to pump himself a few times before aligning himself at your entrance.

     Duncan pressed the small of your back down further against the granite, making your ass jut out instinctively to give him easier access to your dripping core. Tantalizingly slow, he pushed himself into you, savoring every inch of your walls that clenched around him with urgency. You were both breathing heavily, the melting of your bodies consuming every nerve. 

     Once he was fully seated inside of you, he stalled, looking down at your frame. The girl he’d managed to rope back in time after time. No matter how much he knew he didn’t deserve someone as loyal and trustworthy as you, you came back. Every time. Every night. To him. He never thought he’d find himself in this position. In his new house, with whom he was convinced was the love of his life, sprawled out on his kitchen counter at his mercy.

     He leaned in once more to press a tiny, close-mouthed kiss to the back of your head before pulling himself halfway out of your drenched cunt, only to forcefully thrust himself back in again.

-

     It felt like you had been lying there for hours. You were almost certain you’d have a dent in your cheek for a week due to how hard the side of your head was pressed into the kitchen island. Duncan ruthlessly pounded into you from behind, your cheek rutting against the granite with every slam of his hips while cries escaped from your lips. Your fingers grasped for anything, everything. He had one hand on your waist and the other wrapped almost too-tightly around the back of your neck to keep you in place, so you opted for gripping the lip of the counter as best as you could. But pearls of sweat coated your entire body, making it hard to hold onto anything for too long.

     The sounds of squelching skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the empty house. It was borderline blasphemous. Chants of, “Oh my god,” “Don’t stop,” “You feel so good,” and plenty of profanities were peppered into the mix, only adding to the indecency of the situation.

     It took some time, but you finally began feeling that familiar tingle building up inside of you, causing another rush of arousal to flow effortlessly out of your cunt. It became overbearing after a while, your desperate need to milk Duncan’s cock for all that it was worth overcoming your very existence. You chased after your release by rolling your hips backward, working in sync with Duncan to fuck you deeper and harder.

     “Someone’s eager. Am I not giving you enough, little girl?” Duncan mocked through heavy breaths.

     “Just go faster, please,” you begged, fighting to let pleasure take over, but you weren’t quite there yet.

     “Please what? Use your manners.”

     “Please, daddy.”

     Duncan loosened his grip at your waist, snaking his hand around and beneath you. You felt the pads of his fingers swirl lightly over the fabric of your panties that still covered your clit, all while he continued to thrust his hips into your backside. With each cycle around your bud, he increased his pressure just slightly, drawing out moan after moan from you. The sounds falling from your lips triggered moans of his own.

     When he finally slipped his hand through the front of your panties, you were overtaken by a swell of euphoria, just teetering over the edge. You abandoned your other senses, focusing solely on Duncan and the way he was working you open with his cock and now his fingers. Your eyes were screwed shut, hearing going in and out, fingers grasping for purchase around the corner of the island.

     “What about now? Is daddy giving you enough now?”

     You couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open, but no sound came out.

     “No? Guess I’ll have to pick up the pace then.”

     The feeling of Duncan vigourously massaging your swollen clit between his two fingers was enough to trigger your release. You came with a shaky scream, trembling as Duncan continued to fuck himself into you through your orgasm despite the fact that he was faltering himself. The hairs on your arms stood upright, your skin quickly becoming oversensitive to his touch.

     Duncan’s hips sputtered, stilling completely as he allowed for his own release. His moans went up an octave, a sign you’d grown accustomed to recognizing as a tell-tale indicator that he was cumming. You felt his warm seed spilling deep inside of you, coating your walls as he gave your cunt a few extra pumps with his cock before slipping out of you.

     He rested his chin on your shoulder, lifting you from the island and winding his arms around your waist. You could feel the dampness of Duncan’s forehead on your neck, it was cool on your fevered skin.

     “Did you do that on purpose?” you asked, chuckling as you turned in his arms to face him.

     Duncan smirked back at you, satisfied with your current state. You had a flat, bright red mark across your cheek from being thrown against the counter, the rest of your face flushed with an adorable, pink heat. 

     “Did I do what purpose?” he responded, feigning ignorance.

     “Drag me all the way out here just to fuck me as loud as you wanted so no one would hear?”

     His grin only grew wider, you’d caught onto his little game. He lifted you onto the island, placing you gently on the granite. Through the corner of his eye, he caught his cum dribbling down your thighs. Quickly, he caught the stream of milky, white seed on his pointer and middle fingers. He raised them to your mouth, pulling your bottom lip out just slightly with his other hand. You accepted them without hesitation, running your tongue along every centimeter of his digits. As you removed him from your mouth with a satisfied pop, he answered.

     “It worked, didn’t it?”

     You shook your head and laughed once more at his cockiness, grabbing him tighter and lying your head against his chest.

     “I did, Donut. It surely did.”

     As you stood in Duncan’s arms with your head to the side, you could just barely make out a swimming pool in the backyard beyond the windows of the dining room. It was still surrounded by dirt, meaning it wasn’t quite complete. Visions danced in your head at the memories that would be made beyond those french doors. 

     You couldn’t wait for this place to be finished. You were ready to spend the rest of your life here with the man you’d once thought you’d never see again. The man that did exactly as he’d promised:

He’d taken care of you. And he always would.

~

Tagging:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @venusxxlangdon   @ccodyfern @michaellangdong@michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @wroteclassicaly @omg-hellgirl@aveiangdon @belusima  @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies@langdonsdemon @ticklish-leafy-plant @michaelfuckinglangdon@fpsjacket @mother-tequila  @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonshell @coloursunlimited

[snorlaxlovesme]

hearts that burn

did someone order a Super Sappy Kacchako fic, with a side of douchey Endeavor? bc boy do I have the fic for you!!

(ao3 link)

The fight ends almost as quickly as it began.

The villain crashes to the ground, only managing to take out an entire four-way intersection, streetlights and all. There’s glass and metal and live wires sparking everywhere, along with Endeavor standing in the middle of an impressive crater, the villain lying unconscious beneath the pro hero’s gigantic boot.

“See, Young Bakugo? No help required.”

He hates that Endeavor still calls him that. He’s 21 for fuck’s sake. The fact that pro heroes still feel the need to treat him like a child is laughable, especially when Endeavor actually did need his help. The controlled explosions that Bakugo let off kept the villain heading in the right direction for Endeavor to messily intercept him. Bakugo lets out a scornful “tch” as he surveys the damage of the intersection, as well as the flames roaring from the nearby building that the villain initially attacked. Aizawa-sensei would have flunked the hell out of Endeavor if he was in Eraser’s class. This much damage should be a crime in and of itself.

Bakugo can’t help but wonder how the rest of the fight is going. This villain had comrades at other locations in the city. Two other hero agencies had already been dispatched to take care of them, but no one has radioed with a confirmed take-down yet. He heard that Uraraka was with them, following Gunhead into the fray to probably help with rescues. Bakugo hasn’t seen her since yesterday, when she left his apartment for night patrol with Gunhead’s agency. Her curry is still sitting on his kitchen counter, half eaten.

He watches as the police and medics rush in to intercept the villain still held captive under Endeavor’s heavy boot. Bakugo’s mouth sets into a hard line as he watches them cart the villain away. He should be happy, they took the villain down, but the smarmy look on Endeavor’s face has Bakugo’s hands clenching into fists. Endeavor is an adult, he shouldn’t look so much like the cat that got the cream for taking down one villain before a rookie could. When Bakugo starts to smell nitroglycerin again he squeezes his eyes shut. He won’t let his blood boil for something this stupid.

A familiar shout from down the road has him looking up. Amongst the roaring flames of the burning building and the civilians screaming, Uraraka’s voice rises above the noise.

“Bakugo!”

He sees her running towards him, blood dripping in between her eyes from her own battle somewhere else in the city, but there’s a grin spreading across her face that makes Bakugo’s day a little less shitty just from seeing it. His shoulder is still aching from using his grenades so many times in one fight, but that doesn’t stop him from holding his arms out for her as she leaps toward him. He wasn’t worried about her—Uraraka’s a badass who’s totally capable of protecting herself and others— but it’s clear from the way she wraps her arms around his middle and buries her face in his shoulder that she might have been worried about him.

Back when he was a teenager that thought would have made him irate, but now he keeps his irritation at a healthy simmer. It still grates his nerves, her concern for him. He’s never liked attention like that. It always felt inherently negative to have someone worry about you, to be scared on your behalf. It’s taken him a long time to realize that little wrinkle in her brow isn’t because she doubts his capabilities, it’s because the world is filled with countless dangers and absolutely no guarantees, especially in their line of work. She worries because she cares, and sometimes that’s kinda nice.

Uraraka pulls back to look up at him. “You’re fine? You’re not hurt?”

His response is gruff. “It ended quickly. Endeavor was already here when I showed up.”

That doesn’t stop Uraraka from scanning him up and down for injuries, taking specific note of a burn on his forearm that wasn’t hurting before she started poking it.

“Ochako.”

She stops her prodding and looks back up suddenly.

“I’m fine. Swear.”

God, she must have been really worried. Uraraka tugs on the front of his costume to pull him in for a kiss, one that says everything he knows she wants to say out loud to him but won’t in front of all these people. A kiss that says I’m glad you’re safe and we both survived another day and I love you. She won’t embarrass him in front of all the pro heroes with sentimentality, she knows better than that, and frankly he’d prefer kissing to talking in almost all situations anyway. He holds her close as her hands cup his face, knowing that when she gets like this she sometimes activates her quirk without thinking. The first time she kissed him after a battle had left him floating a few feet off the ground with his legs bicycling clumsily as he tried to find firm footing. He’s learned since then, and now as he feels himself starting to hover he keeps his body straight and pinches her arm.

“Ochako,” he murmurs again against her mouth.

She only separates from him a little bit, pulling her hands from his jaw to press her fingertips together. “Sorry.” His boots make contact with the ground again.

Sometimes he wonders what it might be like, to say those things out loud to her. To let her know how happy she makes him, how her presence fills him with a sense of serenity he never thought he’d be capable of feeling. After all these years of knowing her it should be easy to look into her eyes and tell her. But the rough timbre of his voice, the scowl etched into his expression, the way his palms constantly smell of explosive chemicals make him think better of it. It wouldn’t come out right, coming from him.

But it’s that look she gives him, that look she’s giving him right now, the one that’s filled with warmth and safety and even underneath all that, happiness, that makes him reconsider letting her know how he feels.

She’s letting go now, looking off at the wreckage around them and the civilians that still need to be accounted for, and his fingers are grasping onto her hand before she can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, low. “I just—I want you to know—”

She looks up at him patiently. He wants to, he wants to—

“I’m just—I’m glad you’re safe, too.”

Coward.

Even so, she lets out a breathless little laugh like he really did just confess his undying love for her, looking a little shocked but mostly pleased. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Hey LOVEBIRDS!”

The booming voice of Endeavor has Bakugo separating from Uraraka, turning back to the scene with a scowl.

“Save the public displays of affection for when you’re alone.” Bakugo doesn’t have the time or energy to explain how stupid of a statement that is. He let’s go of Uraraka and shoulders past Endeavor, not waiting for more instruction that the pro hero would surely try to dole out to his dutiful apprentices. The flames from Bakugo and Endeavor’s attacks are finally starting to die down, leaving nothing but a smoldering glow in their wake that can be easily put out by someone with a water quirk.

Bakugo heads toward the rubble he knows he has to clear away, only pausing briefly to look back at Uraraka, who’s still talking to Endeavor. Something about her—the determination in her eyes, the blood and soot smeared across her face that she still hasn’t wiped away, the way the light of the leftover flames dances across her skin—hardens his resolve. He’s going to find a way to tell her. And soon.

He loves her so damn much.

But until then, he has a mangled street light to dispose of, and sweaty palms from holding his girlfriend’s hand to help him with just that.