#something about this is very bisexual to me. and one of the fabrics behind him kind of has those color tones?

[gretchensinister]

I had never seen the video to this song before today and it is better than anything I ever could have imagined

[crimeronan]

(re: modesty: I see I see. part of the impetus behind my thinking about it was wondering how Amity -- who I would imagine is significantly more uptight -- would or wouldn't change the vibe once she starts hanging around the empress's chambers all the time… like does Luz feel the need to Perform/appear more proper when she's around? does it frustrate her & Hunter a little? does Amity sense as much and feel awkward about it?)

thinking about this made me laugh because i think the three of them are being stupid. in their usual ways. which delights me

okay so there's a Tiny bit established wrt this with luz and amity already -- luz tries really hard not to look at amity much when amity is sleeping/in pjs/reading/comfy/etc. mostly because AU luz is neurotic about desire.

(it's not even internalized homophobia. diversity win! the bisexual empress would have exactly the same i'm-abusing-a-power-dynamic-by-noticing-theyre-hot panic spiral with an attractive dude witch too!)

the flip side, which i have technically not written into the ao3 AU yet (though there are outtakes with it): amity also clearly tries not to look at luz when luz is in pjs or more casual clothing. and luz is like oh she must be uncomfortable around me....

except luz has Also. woken up. to find amity sitting straight up and just Watching Her Sleep. with the fascination of a cat

(amity is like i cant look at her when she's awake she'll be able to tell i think she's pretty. then as soon as luz falls asleep amity is immediarely possessed by the spirit of a lesbian who has never seen another girl before)

i think amity is DEFINITELY more uptight about bare skin and casual touching and whatnot. amity also has a feeling in the beginning of "oh, i'm third-wheeling them because hunter is doing me a favor" and i think she'd definitely have an aneurysm if she saw luz and hunter sleeping together in any state of undress. very OH GOD SORRY I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING I SWEAR I UM I'LL GO. DO YOU GUYS WANT ME TO GOUGE OUT MY EYES OR-

but then the third and most hilarious leg of this is. hunter. bc he clocks that amity and luz are both acting really fucking weird around each other but i dont think he identifies "oh, theyre into each other." so he's like hey. could you two be fucking normal please

hunter who's been sleeping in a proper set of pajamas whenever amity comes over because she keeps being fucking weird about him being in bed with luz, one day just walking into luz's room and like. looking amity dead in the eye. pulling off his shirt. loudly announcing FABRIC IS ITCHY AND I AM NOT HAVING IT. YOU CAN SKEWER ME IF YOU MUST. I'D RATHER DIEEE

i don't remember where i was going with this. you migjt have wanted something poignant about relationship development in which case i apologize profusely. whenever i see an opportunity for "lumiter where hunter is there in a qpr capacity and doesnt understand dyke drama At All" i immediately lose the capacity to think about anything else.

[dudemanauthor]

Corpulent Coastside Couple

Author's Note: Ah, mutual gaining, you gotta love it, especially if you're a raging bisexual like me and like fat guys and fat girls and think more of them is even better. Also, this is Part 4 of the writing challenge I did back in 2020, part 5 tomorrow, and it's a hefty one.

As fun as it had sounded for Jaune and Pyrrha to squeeze into their old swimsuits for their beach double date with Ruby and Weiss, the novelty was starting to wear off a little bit. When the beaches were closed last year, along with just about everything else, Jaune and Pyrrha decided that it was finally time for them to properly let themselves go and get as fat as they truly wanted. Needless to say, they were very successful and were dealing with the effects of it right now.

Jaune was sporting what was probably very close to a dad bod, despite probably being a decade or two too young for that. He was looking chunky all over, with a solid layer of fat covering everything, but the main focal point for his fat was his gut, which he and Pyrrha worked to make nice and round as it covered up the abs he used to have. It was hanging over the waistband of his dangerously tight white with yellow trim swimming shorts. His mighty thighs and his prominent posterior, made up of decent portions of both fat and muscle, were the main concern right now, as he was worried that moving the wrong way would lead to him splitting his shorts and embarrassing himself more than he was entirely comfortable with, and that was really saying something, considering that he and his girlfriend were exhibitionists enough to show off their newly fattened bodies in clothes that were far too small to comfortably contain them.

With Pyrrha, she was equally chunky all over, but she had not kept the level of muscle that Jaune had, meaning that all of her fat was a fair bit softer. From her jiggly thighs and arms to her flabby, rolling belly and bountiful bouncing breasts, every move she made, sometimes even a move as small as a deeper than average breath, would make at least something on her fattened body wobble like jelly. Her belly poured over the waistband of her maroon and gold bikini bottoms, while her blubbery behind swallowed the fabric between globular cheeks. Her breasts were barely covered by her matching bikini top, with them sneaking out above, to the sides and below the fabric while her nipples were almost popping out and making her indecent, something she would enjoy doing in front of Jaune more if not for the likely repercussions. The knots holding the stringy bikini were barely holding on, as they had to go around a lot more bod than they needed to when Pyrrha first got this bikini, making Pyrrha nervous about the possibility that they’d undo themselves.

Right now, as they waited for Ruby and Weiss to arrive at the beach, they were working on putting sunblock on each others’ broad, soft backs. Pyrrha had already done Jaune’s, likely enjoying massaging the sunblock into Jaune’s back as much as Jaune enjoyed Pyrrha’s thorough touch. Now, it was Jaune’s turn to cover Pyrrha’s back. He straddled her wide, womanly hips and leant forward to get to work. He tried to ignore the fact that his crotch was pressing against Pyrrha’s plump and pillowy posterior, and that his fat gut was resting on the small of Pyrrha’s back, but judging from the noises slipping from Pyrrha’s lips, Pyrrha wasn’t ignoring him.

“Hey, uh, Pyrrha, you might wanna dial it back a little until we get home,” Jaune warned, doing his best to hide how much he was liking what he was hearing and feeling. Of course, his warm member pressing against his shorts and Pyrrha’s backside was definitely betraying him.

“But I am dialing it back, you big handsome stud,” Pyrrha purred, gripping her towel as her face went red.

“You know, sometimes I think that maybe we’re a little too into this fetish,” Jaune replied, a little quieter this time, in case anyone was listening in on the couple.

“We both know you won’t be complaining about this tonight,” Pyrrha teased. Now it was Jaune’s turn to go red.

“Hoo, boy, you’re not wrong,” Jaune got out, through his flustered voice cracking. If they weren’t so public right now, Jaune knew they wouldn’t be waiting until tonight, or even at all.

Once Pyrrha’s back was nicely covered in sun block, the pair lay on their fronts to catch some sun. With their extra fat, this definitely didn’t feel the same as it used to. For Jaune, his firm and fat gut propped him up a bit, which took a bit of getting used to, while for Pyrrha, her soft belly and breasts spreading out as she rested her increased weight on them was an unusual, but still enjoyable sensation.

After a little while of enjoying the sun’s rays and relaxing, a familiar couple of voices pricked up their ears.

“Aw beans. Weiss, I think we missed them,” a younger voice said.

“Ruby, do you really think Jaune and Pyrrha would abandon us?” Weiss replied. Jaune and Pyrrha sat up and looked at the talking couple, who were likely not even ten meters away at this point. Even if they hadn’t recognised the other couple’s voices, they would have immediately recognised their appearances, with the two young ladies as slim as ever and with Ruby’s red and black board shorts and rash shirt and Weiss’ one piece white swimsuit with extra frills around the hips being instantly recognisable. Jaune and Pyrrha shared a look of acknowledgement between themselves, the fact that their new sizes made them unrecognisable to their friends getting them excited. Pyrrha waved to the other couple while Jaune called out.

“Ruby! Weiss! We’re over here!” Hearing their names, the other couple turned and saw Jaune and Pyrrha. Their eyes went wide with undeniable surprise.

“Jaune? Pyrrha?” Ruby exclaimed. “You two look...”

“Well. You look well,” Weiss tactfully interrupted, before Ruby could stick her foot in her mouth.

“Thank you, Weiss. We did our best to relax while we were cooped up inside,” Pyrrha said, leaning back and pushing her expanded breasts and belly out, putting them on full display.

“Er, that’s... good to hear,” Weiss replied, trying her best to avoid mentioning the elephants on the beach while Ruby set up a big beach umbrella, occasionally sneaking peeks at the corpulent couple. Of course, Jaune and Pyrrha knew that, as much as Weiss and Ruby were trying to hide it, they could see their gains as clear as day. Needless to say, they were liking the attention. All they had to do now was to keep it cool until they were home. After that, they were going to have a very fun night.

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[bangtanloverboys]

the first cringe of morning // myg

summary - there were many things one would be nervous about when their new partner spends the night for the first time: was the room clean? is everything in order? did you shave? but you weren’t really nervous about those things, you were nervous as to how he would preceive your scars

pairing - boyfriend!yoongi x trans male!reader

genre - fluff, slight nsfw; newly established relationship au

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of top surgery, reader is slightly insecure of his scars, anxiety, bisexual yoongi, bed sharing, cuddling, non-sexual body worship, kissing, very light non-sexual dom/sub undertones, kinda soft dom!min yoongi, min yoongi being an absolute sweetheart

author’s note - hhhhhh dream scenario honestly. . .happy pride month

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your shirt up, exposing your chest. You stared at your torso in the mirror, your eyes zeroing in on the two thin scars that decorated your chest. You’d gotten top surgery barely a year ago, the scars nearly faded away. You were happy with the results, you’ve never felt happier or more comfortable in your entire life even. You would never go back on the decision you made to get top surgery.

However, it didn’t stop you from being nervous. Why were you nervous? Your new boyfriend, Yoongi, was going to spend the night for the first time ever. You’ve been dating for a few months now and you honestly couldn’t have been happier. You told him you were a trans man a few weeks after you felt like you were possibly getting more serious; he nodded, thanking you for trusting him with the information. While you knew he would do nothing of the sort, your brain couldn’t help but think of terrible outcomes if/when he was to see your chest. 

What if he thought you looked deformed? What if he pointed out your nipples and how they looked weird? What if after what if after what if, plagued your mind. It was stupid and you knew that, but your anxiety continued to eat away at you.

The night so far had been pretty good; he arrived with a couple grocery bags of goodies, as you did ask him to pick up some things on his way over. The two of you had a nice dinner, watched a couple movies, and you were both getting ready to settle down for bed. It was established earlier that you weren’t planning on having sex at all that night, neither of you feeling quite ready for that yet. But you slept shirtless, meaning you had the options of either A. getting it over with and showing him or B. sleep with a shirt on and possibly overboil. Anxiety on the rise, you went with the latter option. 

A knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to drop your shirt. 

“I gotta brush my teeth. You decent?” Yoongi asked from the otherside of the door. 

With a light chuckle, you unlocked the door, pulling it open for him. “Come in.”

Walking in, his toothbrush in hand, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you. Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, it’s in the little basket by the sink.” You gestured to the counter behind you. “I’m gonna get the bed ready.”

“Hey,” he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the couch? Because I’m more than fine with that.”

“No, it’s okay.” You responded, hoping your voice sounded reassuring. Yoongi stared at you for a moment, possibly sensing your nervousness. He didn’t say anything, only nodding; trusting your words. After releasing your wrist, you made your way to your bedroom.

You had cleaned up everything earlier that day, looking nothing like the mess it was the past couple days. But you were satisfied with it, as long as there was no mess on the floor or dirty dishes anywhere, it was fine. With a sigh, you began taking off the decorative pillows you had on display on your full sized bed, neatly stacking them in a pile. As you continued to get the bed ready, your mind wandered, thinking about how you were going to sleep. Did Yoogni have any sleeping habits? Would he cuddle you while you slept? Would he mind the heat you tend to give off when you sleep? So many different random anxieties started to build up over the ones already there. 

“Are we not going to sleep with any pillows or something?” Yoongi’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Immediately you realized you went a bit too far and even pulled off the actual pillows from the bed, stacking them alongside the decorative ones.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.” You gushed as you put the pillows back on the bed. 

“No worries.” You got a good look at him as he walked across the room, towards the bed. He was wearing a loose fitted T-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, and his hair was a mess from being tucked away in a beanie all day. “Do you sleep on any specific side of the bed or free range?”

“I sleep on the right side.” You said, pointing to the side you were closest to. 

“Alright,” he nodded as he made his way over to the left side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he climbed into bed. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you. “You’re gonna sleep in your jeans?” 

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Right uh. Hang on.” You muttered as you turned around. As you shuck your jeans off, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, causing the heat in your cheeks to spread to the tips of your ears. Standing in only your boxers and a T-shirt, you deemed yourself ready for bed. When you turned around to face him, you spotted a smirk playing on his lips. Avoiding eye contact, you clambered into bed, shutting off your lamp in the process, leaving you both in the dark room. 

The mattress beneath you shifted as Yoongi adjusted himself to lay down and get comfortable. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You freeze in his hold for a moment, thinking he’s going to possibly make a move, but instead you feel him nuzzle his face into your hair. You smiled as you felt his breathing tickle the skin of your neck. Relaxing into his touch, you allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms. 

When you woke up to the sunlight bleeding through your blinds, you were genuinely surprised to have slept through the whole night. Usually you’d wake up randomly, but Yoongi was a good luck sleeping charm that now you had, you probably won’t ever let go. You shut your eyes again, wanting a bit more sleep before either of you have to get up.

Just as your mind was about to fall back into sleep, you felt the light touch of Yoongi’s lips drag across the skin of your neck. He peppered soft kisses over the exposed skin, gently tickling you. You giggled at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. In fact, you snuggled closer into him. As he sleepily kissed you, you felt the hand that was still wrapped tightly around your waist ever so slowly slip underneath your shirt. The skin to skin contact had you stiffen. Feeling your discomfort, Yoongi moved to whisper in your ear. 

“Are you okay with this?”

“I-” You struggled to get the words out. “My scars. I- I don’t-”

“Hey shh,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear before he readjusted himself on the bed, now hovering over you. “You can tell me, what about your scars?”

“I-I’ve. . . never really had a partner see my scars in a more. . . intimate setting. . .” You all but shrunk under his gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“No, Y/N, look at me.” His hand went to your cheek, gently forcing you to look up at him. Meeting his dark eyes, you feel nothing but adoration pouring out from them, overwhelming you. “I care about all of you, scars and all. You are the most handsome creature I’ve had the privilege of knowing.” You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill. Your hand went up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to meet your lips. The kiss was nothing too special, it was slow and gentle, yet it didn’t stop your heart from racing. Yoongi’s other hand was sneaking back underneath your shirt as he pulled away. “Is it okay if I show you?”

With a gulp, you nodded.

“Use your words, baby.” 

“Yes.” You rasped out.

Once given the green light, he pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your neck. He kissed down your clothed torso until he was over your hips, his hands slowly curling up the bottom of your shirt. His eyes never left yours as he exposed more and more skin, stopping just below your scars. Lowing his head to your stomach, he kissed you right below your belly button. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked all over your stomach; on occasion he’d catch you by surprise by blowing a raspberry, eliciting a laugh from you. 

He reached the edge of your shirt again, placing his hands on the fabric before moving it anymore. “Do you wanna take this off?”

“Yeah.”

It was a bit of a struggle but with Yoongi’s help, you got the T-shirt off. His eyes not once leaving you as he tossed the shirt to some corner of the room. The silence was thick as you watched him stare at you, saying nothing. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks as you moved to cover yourself, but his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them to your side.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N.” He praised as he lowered himself to be over your ribcage. “Please don’t doubt that, I see nothing but the most beautiful man in front of me.” Yoongi muttered as he littered kisses along your scars, the sensation light from what little feeling you have left. His words left butterflies erupting in your stomach and your head reeling, trying to accept the compliments he gave you. You don’t think anyone has ever said that to you, hell, you don’t even think you’ve said that about yourself. But to have Yoongi tell you had you drunk. 

He’d nip at your skin, testing where you could feel, and when he felt you shutter against him, your boyfriend made sure to pay extra attention there. All while mumbling praises into your skin, assuring you that he thought nothing less of the world of you.

By the time his head came back up above yours, his lips were kiss swollen and you were breathless. Smiling down at you, he leaned down, kissing you one last time before pulling away. He laid his head down on your chest, snaking his arms around you to hold you tight. Your arms went to wrap around his shoulders, messing with his hair at the nape of his neck. There the two of you laid for the next few hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky, simply enjoying each other’s company.

[paper-n-ashes]

New Endeavours

Characters: Modern AU!Kylo Ren x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), Sugar daddy relationship, sexual references but no actual smut, bisexual vibes, attending a strip club.

Author’s Note: This is all because of my love, @maryforyou. An AU venture she ignited and I couldn’t let go of. Read into this however you want, I’m an open book in terms of exploring sexuality without labels. Being the first AU I’ve ever attempted, I kept this as an intro, to hopefully dive into the more explicit content I’ve been ruminating on for too long as a Part 2 (depending on how this is received).

*

“Are you sure this what you want?”

You smiled sweetly, smoothing out the creases in your dress as Kylo handed you your coat and gloves. “Like I said every day this week, I’m very sure.”

He still appeared doubtful, plush lips twisted in a disbelieving frown. “I could give you anything your heart desires for your birthday, princess,” he urged, helping you to secure the top buttons of your waistcoat, his large frame shifting close to yours. “This barely seems like enough of a gift for such a special occasion.”

Kylo was used to showering you with physical symbols of his adoration in the 18 months you had known him. The man had more money than he knew what to do with, lavishing all types of jewellery and clothing on you, some of the pieces you were certain cost more than your tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city. Every time you tried to refuse the extravagant gifts, Kylo always replied with sweetened notions of needing to worship and adore the personified goddess he saw you as. And when spoken in his infuriatingly mesmerising tenor, they would quickly conquer your resistance.

You were acutely aware of what this looked like from an outside perspective. A wealthy older man courting a young woman over 10 years his junior. Bathing her head to toe in the finest attire, parading her around in places a woman of her standing wouldn’t have been able to afford in two lifetimes.

A label came with this kind of behaviour. One you didn’t particularly like, yet was still true.

Sugar daddy.

There wasn’t a way you could deny that’s how your association with Kylo begun.

You’d heard whispers of other girls at the college you went to doing it. Offering their bodies to the affluent men of this city. At first, you’d scoffed at the idea. But when that third overdue notice of your credit card debt came, with the threat of eviction hanging over your head, you didn’t really have much choice.

A name was given to you of a bar that specialised in these kinds of meetings, completely covertly of course. And there Kylo had found you, hiding away in a secluded corner, stirring the gin and tonic in front of you with a single finger. At first, you’d assumed he was a well-dressed bartender, seemingly too young and strikingly handsome to be in need of a place like this. So you smiled sweetly and told him you weren’t quite done with your drink.

Within such an innocent interaction, Kylo knew he had to have you. And he did, 45 minutes later in the poorly lit bathroom stall, half-dressed bodies clutched together as he had you perch on the porcelain sink, fucking you with an uncharacteristically reckless abandon.

He hadn’t intended to. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he anticipated from that evening, the recommendation being given to him from a higher executive who regularly partook in the questionable operations of this establishment. Kylo meant only to scope the place out, sit for a quiet solitary drink out of the way of other patrons. There, he’d discovered you.

Shrinking into your stool, somewhat inhibited, clearly out of your element. The shy smile that spread across your face after he murmured a stiff hello ensnared him in moments, simply for how sincere it was. He wasn’t used to that.

Another thing Kylo wasn’t used to was the type of electricity that followed in your conversation. Rarely had he experienced an exchange that was so charged yet… genuine. You didn’t appear expectant, didn’t care to know how much money he made or the status of his career. You simply wanted to talk.

It was interesting how this fuelled an urge to make you speechless, to have you resorting to whines and whimpers rather than articulate your thoughts with any words. He didn’t act on them. Content to bide his time, play his cards right, set a precedence of composure and restraint in the hope of securing another meeting. You, however, had never cultivated the same type of discipline Kylo had.

After too many long minutes of flirtatious banter, you leaned forward, mouthing in a hushed tone, asking him to meet you in the women’s bathroom.

The chance encounter had bound you for longer than predicted.

Although never explicitly stated, the two of you fulfilled a portion of each other’s needs. Kylo required adequate distraction from his corporate life, someone who could slip into his erratic schedule with ease to… relieve him of mounting tension. In return, he provided you the monetary means to live in the city of your dreams without constant fear of homelessness.

In the months that passed, your arrangement turned into something stable, secure. His presence a constant in your life. While his working hours were long and finishing times unpredictable, Kylo could always count on you to be summoned to him from a single text message. Be it in the middle of the day, or the early hours of morning, you would race to a place of his choosing. Sometimes at his lush apartment, sometimes his office, and a plethora of restaurant bathrooms across the city after particularly stressful business lunches.

Initially, your involvement was kept mostly out of public view. Kylo had wanted to protect you from the judgements and negative connotations that were unavoidable in the arena of his work. Around the year mark, these reservations about being seen with you seemed to dissipate. Soon you were linked hand in hand at countless high-class dinners and charity events. A poised and elegant couple, right until the last set of eyes moved away.

This is where you had your fun.

As spectacular as Kylo was at fucking you until you saw stars, he’d surprisingly gone this long in life without venturing into more creative territory when it came to satisfaction. His version of sex was fast and hard, needing as much as you as he could get, chasing release with no frills or diversion. He’d never had the time, or the right lover, to encourage any of his deeply hidden fantasies. Until you.

You were game for anything. Sexually adventurous. Ready and willing to try all there was on offer just to elicit the highest levels of ecstasy. It was difficult not to be at the thought of Kylo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, any part of him.

Although a little more slowly, he began to welcome new experiences, new pursuits of pleasure. Witnessing your reactions to these efforts became somewhat of an addiction for him. The way you writhed and squealed when exploring anal play for the first time. The way you surrendered and adored his verbal degradation and physical strikes. The way your body twitched and spasmed after the use of a newly obtained toy purchased with his platinum credit card.

You never pushed him, or forced him into anything he found uncomfortable in the chase of a sexual high. Communication was paramount, and boundaries were respected.

Interestingly enough, tonight was a boundary he never thought you’d cross.

“This is what I asked for, remember?” you smiled, taking the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

Kylo’s apprehension refused to dissipate, while still clutching you closer. “It just… seems like this is something I will enjoy more than you.”

You barely withheld the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

His eyebrows crinkled, thinking the question over. There was the hint of a smirk that tugged the corner of his mouth, a subtle excited quiver in the breath he exhaled. “So you’re not doing this for me?”

“Not at all,” you breathed. Your palm slipped under his clean-shaven jaw, skating a thumb reassuringly over his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“You have?”

You hummed a yes, drifting your lips intoxicatingly close to his, staring up with wide eyes.

Kylo’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel jealous, princess.”

“You’re only looking,” you insisted softly. “And, even if you touch a little…” You bit your lip at the thought. “Those women won’t be who gets to be taken home and fucked until it hurts.”

There was a noticeable tensing in the arms circled around you, as Kylo’s eyes began to burn with an impatient greed. “I could do that now, right against this door.”

It was difficult to deny how you’d happily allow him to make true on that statement. To slam you into the exquisitely carved oak door of his apartment and fill you to your absolute limit. However, the tantalising image of your planned evening was too consuming, heaving and tugging for you to indulge a deeply embedded desire you’d never been brave enough to pursue.

“Save it for when we get home,” you chirped, reaching for the doorhandle and dragging Kylo into the hallway.

 *

“Follow me,” the maître D instructed, her voice cheerfully welcoming. Even the sight of her silken, green dress was intimidating, the fabric glossing over her nimble shape as she guided you up the set of stairs. The lighting was low, almost too dark to see properly, Kylo’s grip strong as your steps were drowned out by the sultry music emanating behind the double doors at the apex. As they were opened to you, the hypnotic baseline ricocheted around your body.

You scanned around the large room, bold lights illuminating a risen stage with two currently unused silver poles at either corner. Plush chairs circled around, occupied by a differing array of men. Slinking between the patrons were women decorated with luxurious, high-end lingerie, each one styled and set to provoke unyielding temptation.

This was a completely new undertaking for you. Attending a strip club. Usually a male endeavour, seeking out instant gratification in the form of scantily clad bodies and paid attention. You knew this was an unusual request for a birthday outing, yet in truth there was nothing from Kylo you wanted more.

The two reasons were somewhat opposing, although they would still feed the same goal. Satisfying a craving.

One being that you had always found women to be alluring and captivating to a height you’d never really accepted, almost been afraid of. Only with time and maturity had you learned your attraction to them was a natural occurrence you were now ready to explore.

The other reason was a little more scandalous, and what you hadn’t quite articulated to Kylo yet. To have the view of his eyes roaming another woman’s almost naked body as she exposed herself to him, drove you wild. In a situation you should feel jealousy, you were only devoured by an uncontainable lust.

Occasionally your mind had forayed into imaginations where he would take another like he’d taken you countless times, able to watch his hands clawing at supple breasts, the smooth motion of his hips, how his thick cock would split a tight, dripping cunt in two. All the while he would deride and goad you, layering you with taunts, desperate to inflame your envy and ownership.

Your plan for this particular evening didn’t extend that far. You only wished to enjoy the performance of mesmeric women in their most enchanting form, observe Kylo’s undeniable arousal at the same lithe, flexible bodies, and return home to remind him that only you could ignite the billowing flames of a violent release.

Oh, but that plan crumbled when you’d each settled into your seats, just in time for the next show of seduction. A pair of glittered, platform heels slinked near to the pole closest to you, your vision roaming upwards over the statuesque figure they connected to. Delicately laced, ivory fabric shielded her most intimate portions from full view, conforming flawlessly to the curves of her figure. Somehow demure yet indecently sensual.

Lips parted, your breath hitched as the exquisite woman twirled around, her eyes trained to you as she let a wicked smile appear. You were sure this was a regular occurrence, a flirtation she expressed to all the patrons in this room. Yet, as she began to move in time with the decadent beat of the music, her eyes stayed transfixed to you marvelling stare.

In an unprecedented display of courage, you beckoned Kylo closer to you, whispering to his ear. “Her. That’s what I really want for my birthday.”

*To be continued*

Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in future works! 

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45 

[dixingcups]

genderfluid! Shen Wei, weilan, 1154 words The back of Shen Wei's closet is as neatly organized as the front, which is how Zhao Yunlan knows that he's hidden The Sweatpants deliberately. He whistles as he digs through the folded sweaters in a drawer--something pop-y, Xiao Guo has been bobbing his head every time it comes on the radio--and is only mildly disappointed when he finds no faded, cheesecloth-hole fleece between the blue and grey cashmere. It was a long shot anyway, this drawer: but leave no stone unturned, that's the motto of a detective. No sweater unexamined? No drawer disregarded? In all honesty The Sweatpants are a lot less comfortable than the replacement pairs (three of them!) that Shen Wei has foisted on Zhao Yunlan in transparent attempts to get him to switch, but at this point it's about the meaning of the thing, and the meaning is about being stubborn. Also, the prissy little moue of Shen Wei's mouth when Zhao Yunlan annoys him is adorable and kind of unfairly hot. Returning to the hanging racks (hey, Zhao Yunlan never claimed to be organized, just effective), Zhao Yunlan pushes past a bulky garment bag and gropes around to drag a handful of clamp hangers into the light. The texture of the fabric is all wrong to be what he's looking for, so he almost shoves them past his shoulder before his eyes catch up to his fingers, and then Zhao Yunlan can't do anything but use his eyes, for staring. Because. It's--skirts.

A lot of them, he realizes, as he swallows and starts to flip through the hangers behind them. Skirts that flare out, some of them long enough they must hit the ground. Skirts that are cut close to the hip and taper, made of the same neat wool that characterizes Shen Wei's suits. Skirts that are actually dresses; Zhao Yunlan sees something with a lot of straps and has to take a moment to press his hands over his face and breathe. "Hei Lao Ge," he tries; it comes out strangled to near silence. Figuring he might need the visual aid, he grabs a skirt at random--it's one of the tight suited kind--and drapes it over his arm, abandoning the closet for now so he can find Shen Wei in the kitchen. Shen Wei is diligently chopping scallions. Zhao Yunlan takes a moment to feel a fond wash of affection, and also to check out his ass. (It's nice ass.) "Hey," he says, now that Shen Wei can hear him, and is rewarded by Shen Wei turning immediately towards him, smiling. He sees when Shen Wei recognizes what Zhao Yunlan is holding, because Shen Wei's face goes blank. Right. "You know, if you wanted to wear skirts for me, you could have said," Zhao Yunlan says, curling his tongue around the words as much as possible. Shen Wei's cheeks go gratifyingly pink. Still, his voice is calm when he answers, turning back to the counter and picking up the knife. "Do you not like the trousers? I seem to recall you mentioning the opposite. Several times." Zhao Yunlan laughs, because he's busted and doesn't want anything less, and comes closer so he can rest an arm on Shen Wei's shoulder and kiss his cheek. The up-and-down motion as Shen Wei chops jostles Zhao Yunlan's elbow. It's a familiar rhythm. "I do, oh yeah I do. But I didn't know this was on the table." He shakes the skirt slightly in Shen Wei's peripheral vision. Shen Wei doesn't answer. He goes tense under Zhao Yunlan's touch, and Zhao Yunlan forces himself to stay relaxed in counterpoint, to not jerk away. "Hey. I'm not gonna be--you've seen me in drag, Xiao Wei. And I looked good as shit, I know you agree." It was a case, a couple months ago--gay bar, Zhao Yunlan had to go undercover. His first attempt had actually not been so flattering, but one of the queens they were working with had taken one look at him, said something to the tune of "oh no honey, you do makeup like a cop," and sat him down to re-do the whole thing herself. Zhao Yunlan has been meaning to go back and pay her to teach him how to do it; his cheekbones looked damn sharp. He just hasn't had the time. Crimes, you know. The knuckles of Shen Wei's right hand have gone tight around the handle of the knife. "It...is not drag. For me." "Okay," Zhao Yunlan says, slowly. The lights in his brain that say BIG DEAL! DON'T FUCK THIS UP! are suddenly blazing, and it's so distracting he can't quite parse what Shen Wei is trying to tell him. "Is, um. Is this stuff now drag, then?" He nudges his fingers under the collar of Shen Wei's pressed shirt, trying to sink reassurance into the soft skin. The scallions are very green against the wood of the cutting board: little spirals. "No," Shen Wei says. He starts cutting again, with a little bit less than his customary smooth grace. "In Dixing, things are not as separated. I do not ascribe to one...I only wear the skirts when I am down there. Haixingren nowadays do not do well with...fluidity. It was something I had to learn." Zhao Yunlan imagines Professor Shen arriving to class, bespectacled and mild in something like the skirt in his fist, and being harassed for it. A thrill of anger so complete he feels himself buzz from his forehead to his toes takes him, and for the next couple of heartbeats he can't see anything but red. Then he imagines the way Professor Shen's legs would look, crossed underneath the tight tailoring, and has to close his mouth so he doesn't say something stupid and possibly reductive like I'm so extremely bisexual or will you put this skirt on right now and fuck me in it. He brushes a thumb along Shen Wei's ear to gather some time to compose himself. (It's a nice ear.) "Well, fuck those Haixingren," he says, when he can trust himself not to leer too aggressively. "You always look good in whatever you wear. Whatever you don't wear too," he adds, and lets himself make that suggestive, because he thinks it will make Shen Wei laugh. He does, quietly and a little bit startled, in that way that never fails to punch Zhao Yunlan right in the chest. Fucking hell, he loves Shen Wei. "Let me cook," Shen Wei says, nudging Zhao Yunlan off him. Zhao Yunlan sticks his tongue out and retreats, making it clear with his body language that he's put-upon and suffering. Shen Wei doesn't laugh again, but he does shake his head, his eyes dancing, and that's almost as good. He leaves the skirt upside-down over the back of the couch, like he's forgotten to put it back. He hasn't. He thinks Shen Wei knows that, but he doesn't say a thing.

[deepseavibez]

Drowning Too Deep_2.2 || KNJ || JHS

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Drowning Too Deep [Namjoon x Hoseok x Reader]

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

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Genre - Established!Boyfriend(s) au; Poly;

Summary - Alone at home, nothing but thoughts, pent up emotions, roaming fingers and a wild imagination... that is... until your boyfriends catch you in the act.

Word Count - 1.6k

🎶 - Hold On, We're Going Home - Drake, Majid Jordan

Uncharted territory. This was unchartered territory - Hoseok

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Joon was familiar. Joon and his workaholic tendencies. Joon and his interesting choice of words. Joon with his need to be responsible and logical and… Joon. 

Y/n was not Joon. She worked, but played just as hard. She got his words but simplified it. She was responsible and equally as reckless. She was something Hobi couldn't imagine not being around. 

It had been a while since Joon and Hobi had come out as bisexual and their relationship was known, subtle touches and handholding, stolen kisses, a normalcy. RM belonged to the stage, Joon belonged to the group, his friends and his family, Namjoon - - Namjoon was his. 

Yes, sunshine was Hobi's nickname. He was optimistic and he smiled more than everyone else. The world had so much hope left, and everyone needed time to make choices, and things were meant to be. Hobi would be the first to drive that point home.

But everyone had different sides to themselves.

When the sun shined, there was always a shadow behind it. Jhope, Hoseok, Hobi, they were different people. But all had light and darkness. All agreed Y/n was his too. 

It felt like weird at first, like a tendril curling around him, not only in his heart, made his eyes flash, nostrils flare, hands curl into fists in attempt to dissipate the ball tempting urge to punch the male that currently hung over Y/n. 

But even Hobi wasn't completely clueless. This surge of violence he never thought himself to be capable of, had reason. A plausible one in fact. Joon was always his but Y/n, she needed to be made his. 

She had choices, a few bridges to cross, a whole other life thousands of miles away from Seoul. Something solid would have him more at ease. Like the emerald cut on her left hand, that caught the light, a matching band of the same colour right next to his ring from Namjoon.

Hobi wanted to mark her. Stamp his name on her heart. Show her off to the world. Make it known that she was taken. She was shared between two men that shared only with each other. 

It was new, for all of them. Hobi and Joon worked as equals, switched when required. But with Y/n something altogether different  fabricated itself to them. Joon was in charge out in the world. Whereas Hobi realized he loved being in charge in their relationship. 

And Y/n made things so easy; she went with the flow, got on her knees when he asked, teased because she knew it got him buzzing. She reacted to his commands, mentally and physically, moulded herself against his palm when it found the expanse of one of her buttcheeks, gave in when he growled into her ear - - she submitted, a gift she would never give anyone else.

Something ravenous awoke in Hobi that did not want to be quashed, or tamed. And it felt so right. 

At home, Hobi cooked, expertly chopping up vegetables sometimes with no shirt, just to make his lovers hungry for dessert. He would put books and laptops away when it was too late, when work was too much. He didn't even bat an eye when he pulled them along to shower, stripping them of their clothes. He handed them their daily dose of coffee before they left the apartment. Hobi found them when they spiralled, Hobi pushed boundaries and limits and edged both his lovers to ecstasy, to submission. Namjoon led the front of their tightrope, Hoseok reared. Protective, possessive, rough when he needed to be. 

It had everything to do with his lovers, their response to his demands, their reciprocation in feeding a side of him he grew to enjoy. He wanted them to look at his marks, where his fingers were too rough, and his teeth to hard, he wanted them to ache when they walked the next day, he needed to grab them by the throat and steal their breaths away from them with his lips. 

His lovers were not easy though. Joon could top, could silently domineer, his fingers firm, his lips focused with intent, skilled in the most intimate places and he loved to play. Y/n revelled as a submissive. She knew how to get the blood rushing south in the bedroom and taking care of it innocently at first, and expertly as the time waned on. Outside of it, he couldn't be more proud of her. She may be dating two members of the group, but she made her way into the company on her own. Building herself up with experience, daring and a little more than needed independence she was her own person. 

It was hard to grow accustomed to it at first. Her need to pay her bills and food. Her hours at work. Her routine between work and gym and her social life. She had friends that she texted everyday, a brother who visited and managed a side business with his I.T expertise and her social marketing know how, she held her family close to her heart and still found the most to give Joon and Hobi. She loved them without question, gave them space as they worked, was patient on tours, made long distance and close comfort worked as the need to adapt to either arose.

It was a no brainer. Why he had fallen for her. Why he'd chosen to risk it by talking to his boyfriend about it. Why he wanted her to be theirs. And there was no turning back from her, she was his, belonged to them, nothing in him would allow for any deviation from the certainty. 

'Y/n, whose your friend?' Hoseok placed a hand at the small of her back and slowly curved his palm around her waist. The possessive hold was not lost on either of the receiving party. 

Turning back to her friend after a subtle pointed look towards one of her boyfriends, she smiled easily, as she answered. 'Hobi, this is Julian, he works with me in California. He started leading two of my marketing teams once I transferred. Business and Publishing. He was the reason I can focus full time here.'

Julian pursed his lips, corners of his mouth curving upward in an attempt to be polite, he reached out a hand as he affirmed the introduction. 'Hobi.'

'Hoseok.' Hobi corrected firmly a cold smile gracing his features as he shook the hand of the male who still had his shoulder brushing up against his girlfriends.

The caucasian male in dark wash jeans and a black button down looked less than impressive next to Hobi's suit. But it didn't quell his energy, a comfortable air surrounding Y/n and Julian, his looks toward her more than friendly.

Looking at the hands they still had clasped, Y/n explained. 'He's visiting to update me.' 

'That couldn't be done over the phone, or a zoom call.' Hobi licked his lips, and broke the handshake. 

'Unfortunately, I needed to supply Y/n with information about her former departments, client confidentiality is important to us. We like to not have everything out in the open.'

This motherfucker. 

Y/n's smile faltered at the underlying words. Opening her mouth to speak she was cut short as Hobi continued. 

'You are obviously very capable, to be chosen to be in Y/n's position, and very trusted with your job and how you carry it out. But this is my world. Y/n is my fiance. And I assure you, Julian, she understands our lifestyle,' Hobis hand moved from Y/n's waist and followed the trail of Y/n's shoulder absently, an outward display in hold, 'so ofcourse, you don't have to.'

Julian's eyes blazed at the words thrown at him and to his credit, said nothing further. 

Satisfied, Hobi pulled Y/n in for a hard kiss at her temple, whispered a soft 'Enjoy lunch' in her hair. If Y/n were in any other position she would have seen, the way Hobis eyes strayed to Julian above her head, the threat in them clear.

Pulling away, he loved how she chased him instinctively, his touch and his presence. It was a tiny movement, easily missed, unless you stood a few feet away from her. 

That's my girl. His inner self preened in triumph, her reaction a proclamation to who she belonged to. 

'To be so far away from your world of not-so-out-in-the-open, Julian, its not nice. You'll miss it if you don't get back soon.'

No hint of amusement this time, Hobi nodded his head instead of giving in to the urge to pull Y/n away from  the male in front of him, righted his collar and scrunched his nose playfully at his fiance before being on his way. 

He didn't look back. If he did, he wouldn't give her the freedom he knew she needed. He trusted her. Gave away parts of himself to her for safekeeping. Breathed as much life into her as he took away. 

Y/n had been marked by his love. She had been wrapped in a blanket of Joons care. If she could navigate her way through not one but two, protective males that would use every word, every touch, their tongues to unashamedly win her over. She would handle this.

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

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[wwilloww]

tell me what you want | myg

pairings: Yoongi/Reader, (mentions of Yoongi/Namjoon and Namjoon/OC)

genre: 18+. nonidol!au. friends to lovers.

word count: 5.7k

warnings: alcohol use. pining. some minor angst. smut. pwp. penetrative sex. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). creampie. fluff.

summary: Yoongi teaches you how to ask for what you want.

a/n: This is my very first attempt at writing fanfiction and smut! Thanks so much to my friends Carl and A for supporting me through the writing process and for encouraging me. If you enjoy this, leave a comment: I am so excited to hear what you think!

do not copy, repost, or translate without explicit permission from the author.

The pounding in your head matches the pounding in your chest.

You thought you would be fine, surrounded by your friends. And you are, in a way. After a couple of drinks the tension in your chest has eased and it’s easier to fall into conversation with strangers and friends alike.

After years of hard work and careful saving, you’ve purchased your first apartment. Tonight, you’re hosting a housewarming party that has quickly turned into a full-on house party. There’s nothing like a little spilled beer to baptize a new home.

With the music blasting, and good friends at your side, you almost forget why you’re feeling uncomfortable in the first place: Yoongi.

He’s been a good friend of yours for a long time. You had met back in college, having been paired up for a group project. But when the assignment was completed and turned in, you never stopped hanging out. He kept showing up at your door, beer and pizza in hand and a gummy smile spreading across his face until he was a steady constant in your life. But recently things have started to take a turn. It was a gradual process. Like water slipping underneath the door, your feelings snuck in quietly and devastatingly. And like a slow flood, there was no stopping their gradual rise.

At first you admired him. How caring he was. How intelligent he was. The way his signature no-funny-business attitude took over when he was deep in the process of his passions. How he always seemed to know exactly what to say, while it always took you an extra second to come up with that snappy comeback. How, when he took a second to put his thoughts together, his words spilled like poetry from his lips.

Before you knew it, there was something strange and fluttery pooling in your stomach everytime his name popped up on the screen of your phone or when your friends mentioned he would be stopping by.

You didn’t expect Yoongi to return the feelings. He was always kind to you, helping you with the move, showing up for you at a drop of a hat. But that’s all you thought it was: kindness.

Still, knowing he didn’t feel the same way about you didn’t change the fact that it felt like you had been punched in the gut when you walked into the kitchen and found a very tall and wildly handsome man draped all over Yoongi.

It seemed effortless, the way the strange man so casually ran his fingers through Yoongi’s hair as they chatted with some of your friends. What was this sinking feeling in your gut?

It wasn’t jealousy. At least not over Yoongi’s redirected attention. Instead, you envied the ease with which the beautiful man held onto Yoongi. The way his desire pooled openly in his eyes and settled comfortably throughout his entire body.

Even if you had enough courage to make a move—and enough validation to know it wouldn’t be squandered—you had no idea how to. Every time your interest rose, it became trapped in your throat, leaving you frozen and confused.

With the pit in your stomach still open and yawning, you proceed into the kitchen, slipping your hand into one of your friend’s and tugging her to the counter where you uncap a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet and pull two shot glasses towards you.

“Hana, who—,” you begin to whisper-ask, but you’re interrupted.

“Shots!” a familiar baritone sings into your ear. Yoongi was standing wildly close, his arm already reaching around you to grab a shot glass and then to press you into his side. You stiffen, feeling your heart jump out of your chest at the sudden proximity. “You want one?” he asks the beautiful stranger.

“Only if you’re having one,” the man winks at Yoongi.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a coy smile. You feel oddly trapped between the intensity of the two men, the chemistry between them burning. Still, Yoongi winds his arm tight around your waist and, as if its second nature, your hand comes to rest on his stomach. You two could look like a couple like this. You’re not sure if it’s just you, but you think he pulls you closer and when you instinctively grab onto the thin fabric of his shirt, the smooth planes of his stomach tense under your touch.

“Oh,” Yoongi breaks his gaze from the man to look down at you. “By the way, this is Namjoon.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. So this is the infamous Namjoon. Yoongi’s ex. You had been hearing about the complicated ins and outs of their relationship for the past year, usually only after Yoongi had a couple of beers. But Yoongi had never brought Namjoon around to meet his friends, because, quote, “It’s just not that serious.” But here Namjoon was, standing in front of you. While Namjoon had ended things in their most recent breakup, it seemed as if tonight he was doing his best to mend his relationship with Yoongi. Either way, you wipe the surprise off of your face and smile at the man.

“And Namjoon, this is one of my closest friends in the world. She’s the best.”

The f-word hits a little harder than you’d like it to, but you grin up at Yoongi anyways, giving him a playfully light shove.

“Ah, stop, you flatter me,” you tease, but the words seem to fall flat.

The four of you take the shots of vodka with hisses and groans as the burning liquid slides down your throats. Slamming his glass down on the counter, first, Yoongi watches you finish your shot straightfaced.

“Never seen someone make taking a shot look so attractive,” he teases you, laughing.

Still, you blush from his comment. It’s too much. You pull away from Yoongi’s unwavering hold on your waist and tug Hana towards the living room where dancers have congregated.

“I want to dance!” You say, a little too cheerfully.

Hana throws you a sideways glance but ultimately understands. She wraps her arm around your shoulder as you join the group of bopping dancers.

“Let’s distract you,” she says, dramatically spinning you into a dip and you can’t help but giggle at your friend’s absurdity. She holds you tight against her for a song or two, before you break away to dance sporadically as one of your favorite songs comes on.

Here, away from Yoongi, it’s easier to lose yourself, surrounded by your favorite people, the vodka paving a liquid ease through your body. It’s easier to close your eyes and let the bass carry your thoughts.

When you open your eyes, you see Namjoon twirling Hana in a clumsy rendition of a jive, and Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

The lights go out and a cheer rises up from the living room. The music pauses for a moment before switching to a more sensual groove. You let out a whoop, throw your head back, and start to roll your hips. The only thing lighting the room is a lava lamp that is precariously passed around.

It’s not long before you feel a gentle hand on your back and you find yourself leaning into it, not a single question in your mind. Without looking to see who it is, you reach behind you and pull them flush against your back. It feels good to lean into someone, to have someone wrapped around you--not to mention the hand sliding up your side to rest on your waist does wonders for your bruised ego.

Namjoon is smirking at you as he sways against Hana.  

You push your hips back. They meet your movements with their own grinding hips and you can feel strong hands tracing up your sides to guide you into them. Closer. Tracing circles against one another, following, as if with one mind, a shared rhythm.

You know the heat building in you is part this, part the worn-out out tension you feel whenever you’re around Yoongi. But you want to let go. You want to lean into this stranger and just let them take it all away. They press you against them, and you can feel their breath brush against your neck--hot and light and so delightful. You let your neck roll to the side, giving them better access to your warm skin. Fingers trace down the slope of your neck, skate down your side, and press into you. But the pleasure of their heavy touch only lasts for a second because then those same hands are turning you around and you’re face to face with Yoongi’s blooming red cheeks and warm, indecipherable eyes.

You falter through your next movement and Yoongi takes the opportunity to maneuver you through a graceful twirl out onto the dance floor and then back into his arms. It only takes you a moment before you catch up and soon the two of you are dancing, too close for your own good.

If you could just fall into this. Into his hands, into his touch—without explanation, without expectation and let the sinful pleasure of the moment cradle you. Yet, you know that it will never be enough. To answer this desire, even for a moment, is to split yourself open for him.  

He meets your movements with his own hips, and this small moment of synergy is enough to send a wave of warmth shooting up your spine.  

He leans down, and tucks your hair behind your ear.

His lips brush against you as he whispers, “I want to talk.”

“Not now.”

You try to pull him back into the music, but he steps away.

“We can continue when we can talk,” he says sternly, but his eyes betray something kind as he pinches your chin.

Namjoon leans over to you, as if he had heard the entire exchange. “His bisexual ass is so hard to pin down, you know, metaphorically—but also physically,” he winks at you.

“Let her be,” Yoongi chuckles, but there’s an edge to his voice. Still, he takes Namjoon’s arm and pulls him to the kitchen, reaching up to his ear to say something to him that you don’t quite catch. The pair step into the adjoining room, where Namjoon proceeds to wrap Yoongi in a hug that feels almost too intimate to watch.

You do your best to distract yourself in the blaring music and your friends, but you can’t help but keep Yoongi in the corner of your eye. Within you, a new and uncomfortable tension rises—and you don’t understand it. You already knew he wasn’t interested. Nothing tonight has proven you otherwise.

By the time the party begins to wind down, you’re left stunningly sober and with glasses and half-eaten food all over the apartement.

You wave goodbye to your friends as the crowd trickles out of your new home. Yoongi helps you find misplaced jackets, and as Hana and Namjoon collect their things and head towards the door, Yoongi leans up to Namjoon and presses a kiss against his cheek.

“Get home safe, okay?” he says, chuckling at his ex’s inebriated stumble towards the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he does,” Hana sings as the door closes behind the pair.

Yoongi immediately turns to start picking up glasses and brings them to the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you go back with him?” you ask.

“Hana seemed like she was perfectly capable of taking care of him tonight.”

You shot him a confused glance, which he caught. He sets down the glasses he was holding in the sink and turned to you.

“You know me and Namjoon are over right?”

“I don’t know if he knows that.”

Yoongi laughs. “You know—He and Hana—they’re hooking up. He was here for her, not for me.” He chuckles, leaning back with such composure against the kitchen sink. “Sure, we’re still close, but that’s over.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, you know you don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

“I know,” he says gently, coming over to where you’re drying some dishes to lean his head on your shoulder. “But I want you to know these things, I—,” he takes a deep breath as if he’s steeling himself. “I want to talk about what happened earlier.”

You push away from him and head to the kitchen. “I don’t think there’s really anything to talk about,” you gulp. He follows you anyway.

“I want to talk,” he says again. His voice is level and dry.

“I don’t.”

Your eyes widen as he steps closer and leans over you.

He’s got one hand pressed firmly against the wall by your head. With the other hand, he pulls a streamer out of your hair. But that’s not what you’re focused on. He’s caged you in, towering over you, something dark and unknowable in his gaze.

“Then why make eyes at me all night?” he asks, slowly. “It seems like you want to talk.”

You don’t have an answer, but still you manage to stutter, “I...I just...I have nothing to say.”

“Ah. So this has nothing to say to me?” His hand comes up to cup your face, a calloused thumb running over your burning cheek. As if on instinct, you lean into his touch. It’s been so long since someone touched you like this, like you were something delicate.

He watches your expression carefully, a glimmer of a smirk playing on his lips. “Or this?” He reaches down to grab your hand before drawing it up to brush your palm against your ribcage. Beneath your hand your breath is fluttering—heavy and inconsistent. “Or this?” He draws the pair of your hands upwards to cup the swell of your breast. He spreads his palm over yours, fingers pressing into you. Despite the audacity of his current moves, his touch is gentle and feather-light.

He can feel your heart pounding beneath his touch, pounding like it wants to escape.

“I affect you...” he said, as if the notion surprised him too.

“No. You don’t,” you stutter, your face flushing with the lie.

“...just like you affect me,” he finishes.

“What?” You’re shocked to hear those words fall from his lips.

He smirks down at you.  

“Mhmm.”

He leans down to press a kiss against the corner of your mouth.

You stiffen and he pulls back slightly, searching your eyes, waiting for you, waiting for permission. Some very loud voice tells you that to give in is to give yourself up. But then, if his lips on yours isn’t a sign, you’re just not sure what will be.

You barely give it a moment before you pull his taller frame fully to you and press your lips against his. He falters, shocked by the crack in you that he’s finally seeing through. And then he comes to his senses and kisses you back, wrapping his hand behind your head where his fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck. His other hand comes to the gentle valley of your lower back, pressing your torso to his. This kiss is a gentle and nervous search and you find your insides fluttering against his touch.

And then he’s pulling away, taking a half step back and the fear that you thought you had put out of your mind is rushing back in like the tide.

As Yoongi pulls away from your lips, he can feel the crack closing. He can feel you slipping away again. Your eyes shift downward, and you use one arm to wrap around your torso.

“Does that give you anything to say?”

If you didn’t before, you definitely don’t now. It’s as if his touch has stilled every thought in you. Has quieted the voices—all of them—the nagging voice, the one that tells you he’s too good to be true.

“I don’t know how to say it,” you finally murmur.

The silence draws out between the two of you.

“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t keep guessing.”

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to say something.

There is this gnawing ache in you, a dull throb in your chest that wants so badly to reach out to him and pull him back into your arms and never let him go. From this place comes a desperate need for him to know just how you deeply feel about him. And yet, as the words rise to your throat, they stop on your tongue. As if by uttering your own desire you will shatter into a thousand pieces.

Fear. That’s what this is.

Your name falls off his lips and you bring yourself to look him in the eyes, your hands still gripping the front of his shirt.

Looking down at you—your eyes wide, your flushed chest, your lips blooming red from his attentions—his heart breaks as he says these next words, “I can’t do this if you can’t talk to me.” His words hit like a boulder dropped on your chest. Your eyebrows shoot up in shock but still, you say nothing.

He nods. Your silence is enough of an answer for him. He turns away from you and swings his jacket over his shoulder, his heart shattering. His hand is on the doorknob.

“Yoongi,” you call. He stops in the doorway. He thinks his name sounds like a song when you say it. “I’m sorry.”

He turns back to you  just enough that you see a sad smile tugging at his lips.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating everything you’ve done up to this point. Hating your cowardice. Hating the part of yourself that stops in fear at every chance of getting close to someone. Of opening up and allowing someone to see that you want, that you crave.  

With every ounce of strength you can muster, you push past the doubt, you push past the fear. At last the words are tumbling from your mouth:

“Yoongi, I want you.” Your eyes are still squeezed shut, as if by keeping them closed there’s a chance you can reel your words back in. “I want to let go.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

He strides back from the doorway to you, his eyes burning, a real smile spreading across his face. He presses himself against you again, but this time his movements aren’t searching and hesitant. You’ve both waited so long, there’s nothing to hold back. He lowers his lips to yours before letting his mouth travel over your chin and down your neck. Goosebumps spread like a tide across your skin.

“I need to know you want me too,” you gulp, your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Good girl,” he mumbles against your neck, working his teeth and his tongue against the sensitive skin. “Telling me what you want.” You flush at the praise. “I want you, not just this, but you.”

He bites down on your lip, loving the way your grasp tightens around him and a small oh slips out of you. “I want to wake up with you and fall asleep with you,” his eyes meet yours, “and see you like this, all fucked out and needy for me, every night.” He runs a thumb across your lower lip, loving the way the swollen flesh parts for him. “Do you want that?” You gasp against him, barely getting an mhmm out as he sucks a bruise into your neck.

“Use your words.”

“I do. I want it, too.”

He pulls away from you, holding your head in his large hands. The soft smile spreading across his face is the most delightful thing you’ve seen. It gives you courage.

He’s not lying. He wants you.

Before you can unravel and doubt the thought, you take his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it as you lead him to your bedroom. He follows without a second’s hesitation, and this moment—you leading without a single question fluttering in your mind—brings something singing and happy to the surface. All that is left is clear and clean and throbbing.

Gently, he guides you onto your back and crawls on top of you, lifting your shirt to kiss and nip up your belly. When he gets to your chest, he pushes your shirt and bra up and latches onto one of your nipples. Your back arches and the buds raise and pucker as his tongue swirls around one before he bites down.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out. It comes out breathy and Yoongi thinks it’s the most divine sound he’s ever heard.

“All good?” he asks.

“Good—good, keep going.”

Yoongi pays each breast due attention, sucking and biting in the perfect mix of pain and pleasure, before sitting back on his heels. Beneath him, you couldn’t be more gorgeous, hair spread against the pillow, face and chest flushed. In this moment, your guard is down and he’s never seen you this stunning, your body relaxed and preened with desire. Desire for him.

His bulge strains painfully against his jeans. He wants nothing more but to rip off your pants and take you right now, but first he wants to draw more of those beautiful sounds out of you.

Yoongi smirks, an idea crossing his mind, as he continues to play with your nipples. Just enough to keep your eyes fluttering in pleasure, but not nearly enough to bring you the sense of fulfillment you’re desperately searching for.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says.

Your eyes snap open, searching his. All you find is mischief.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He slows his ministrations to mere palming.

“No,” you whine, “I want you to touch me.”

“Don’t make me pull it out of you. Tell me exactly what you want.”

He wants to see you beg.

“I want you to touch my pussy. I want your fingers in me. I need you closer,” you all but gush.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos at you. “Get undressed.”

Hastily, you move to slip your shirt and bra over your head and shimmy your jeans down your legs. Once you’re left in nothing but your underwear, he leans down to kiss you gently, like all of the tenderness in the world could be captured between your lips.

“Turn over.”

You roll over, onto your belly, twisting back in time to see him pull off his shirt. He moves towards you, straddling the backs of your legs and spreading his palms across your ass. “So pretty,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. He slides his finger underneath the band of your underwear before roughly tugging them down, but not all the way off.

Before you know it, the pads of his fingers are brushing against your dripping cunt, exploring the part of you that he only imagined ever getting to see, let alone touch.

“So wet already. Is this all for me?” he asks. You nod into the pillow. With one hand still drawing lazily through your folds, he grabs your hand and guides it to the prominent bulge in his pants. You gasp when you feel how hard he is.

“Do you see what you do to me? I’ve been this way since you thought it would be a good idea to grind your pretty little ass on me in front of all of those people.”

You moan at the words dropping freely and easily from his mouth—a moan cut short by Yoongi thrusting two fingers into your cunt and starting on a nearly punishing pace. Your hands come back up to grab onto the sheets beside your head.

“I want to get you nice and ready for me. Can I stretch you out so you can take me?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but still, you nod, desperately wanting him to, desperately wanting to please him. With two fingers in you, his thumb begins to press at and circle around your swollen clit.

You moan incoherently into the pillow and push your hips back towards him.

He’s watching your every move, lapping up every delicious sound that falls from your lips. He wants to know exactly what will make you tick, what will bring that gorgeous flush to your face—and he’ll do anything to earn it.

All of a sudden, he’s hitting someplace soft and spongy within you, over and over, and it’s like you’ve been shoved off a cliff, tumbling forward in your pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you before you can even say anything. It comes fast and hard and breathlessly. You clench helplessly around his fingers and he outwardly groans at the sight.

“Did you just come?” he asks, incredulously. He pulls his fingers from you and wipes them on his pants.

“I think so,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath, rolling over and propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles.

“That was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your already rosy cheeks somehow manage to flush even more. He reaches forward to brush your hair out of your face.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. “We don’t have—”

“No, I want to,” you sit up to reach towards his lips and hook your fingers into the belt loops on his pants. “I want you.”

“Yeah?”

“I want your cock. I want to make you feel good.” You slide your hand to cup his growing erection through his pants and he trembles under your touch.  

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Take your pants off,” you order, not sure where this boldness is coming from, but relishing in the way it courses through you. The clarity of it, like a rain-bloated river flowing after months of drought.

He does as you say, standing up from the bed to roll his pants down his legs. When he rejoins you on the comforter, he’s just in his boxers.

“Off,” you say as you kiss him. “Take them off.”

He peels them off.

You lock gazes with him and reach down to wrap your hand around his cock. You don’t look away: You want to see every moment of pleasure unravel on his face. You want to know you are the source of his pleasure.

You are rewarded with a moan as you begin to stroke him, rolling your thumb over the head to collect the precum that’s gathered there. He thrusts up into your grasp as you tighten your grip and begin to move a little bit faster. But then just as you begin to lean down to take him in your mouth, his hand comes to rest on yours and he pulls you back up, stopping your movements.

His hand soon comes down to rest on yours, stopping your movements.

“God,” he gasps. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

You pout. “But I want to make you feel good.”

“Don’t worry, you are,” he chuckles. But you’re still frowning. He presses a kiss to your lips, pulling your torso against his. “There’s no rush to do everything tonight. We have all the time in the world.” His words make your heart swell.  

He guides you onto your back as he comes to straddle you again, hand slowly stroking up and down his length.

“And you want to do this?” he asks. “Like I said, there’s no rush.”

You nod eagerly, biting your lip.

“Good. Spread yourself for me.”

You reach down and spread your lips apart. Despite the simplicity of the action, you can’t help blushing at the sudden and explicit exposure. But it quickly morphs into pleasure as he grasps himself and slides his length along your slick folds, teasing your clit and your entrance.

“Please…” you whimper, your need building to a desperate ache in your abdomen.

“Please, what?”

The words come tumbling without hesitation.

“Please. I need your cock in me now.” He pushes his cock against your clit just to see you gasp. “Please, Yoongi. Please fuck me.”

If he had any resolve to continue teasing you, it is completely dissolved by your begging. He leans forward, placing one hand for support next to your head, and with the other hand, guides his cock to your entrance and slowly begins to slide in.

“Oh god, it’s like you’re fucking made for me,” he groans, pressed in to the hilt. He stills when he’s all the way in, loving the fit of your tight cunt around him.

Finally wrapped around him, you’re entirely blissed out. If only he would goddamn move.

“Yoongi,” you moan, “I need you to move.”

“Alright, baby girl,” he says cooly—but it takes every ounce of strength he has to keep from pounding into you like an animal. He starts moving, slowly, relishing in the drag of his cock against your snug, wet walls. As he begins to set a pace, these warm, wonderful sounds begin to slip out of you. Each one twists something deep in his gut and he groans out your name. “You’re so good for me, making these pretty sounds, taking my cock so well. Making me feel so good.”

You clench around him at the praise and he moans.

The room fills with the sweet sound of skin meeting skin, your breath tangled in a game of push-and-pull.

His hair has fallen onto his forehead, and with the sweat, stuck there, divinely dark. You reach up to push the strands out of his eyes, hooking your thumb in his mouth. He bites down lightly on the digit, his breath coming heavy, his eyes boring into yours. Just the sight of his own pleasure makes you tremble.

You can feel a second orgasm building.

“I-I’m close,” you tell him.

“Come for me,” he pants in your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me again.” You close your eyes and allow the sound of his voice to roll through your body. You can almost trace the pleasure through your veins. It’s building, like a spring in your abdomen, reaching out into your limbs, your throat, your mind—and then it hits something hard and solid. A block in your chest. A place where you want to keep things tight and close and unseen. Let go, you repeat in your mind as you begin to lose acceleration. Just let go!

But it’s gone, that breaking point seems so far away now.

“Baby, come back to me,” he’s saying, and your eyes shoot open. He reaches up to the hand you’ve tangled in your own hair and guides it around him so that it presses against his back. “Just hold onto me. You don’t need to do anything. Just sit in the space in your body where it feels good. Let it feel good.”

He starts rocking against you again. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms fully around his torso. This slight adjustment allows his pelvic bone to rub up against your clit and you arch your back to push as much of yourself towards him as possible.

“Take it slow,” he says, kissing along your collarbone.  

You take a deep breath in. On the exhale, you imagine unwinding the wall within your chest. As you continue to breathe, to just feel the way your chest rises, other sensations begin to rise to the surface. Like the sinful sound of  Yoongi’s ragged breath edged with the smallest groan every time he exhales. Or the way his consistent pace seems to press deeper into you with each thrust, building a sensation split between pressure and pleasure. And finally, the way there’s an unending heat simmering in your belly, just waiting for you. Just waiting for you to dive in.

Is this what it meant to let go? To give yourself—your pleasure—your control—up? Finding a space to ebb and flow with sensation instead of trying to track pleasure down? As his hands run over your body, you shudder, allowing the sensation of his rhythm, his warmth, and his affection to rip through you.

“Let go, baby. Let go just for me. Let go,” he pants.

That’s all you need. The pool of pleasure growing in your abdomen explodes, ripping through your entire body. You throw your head back, mouth gaping in a silent scream.

Yoongi hisses at the tight sensation of your warm walls are clenching around him. Looking down at you, spine so delicately arched, sweat pasting your baby hairs to your forehead, your nails leaving small half moons in his lower back, it seemed impossible to hold on any longer. With a grunt, he pounds into you, chasing his own high and loving the way you too are unraveling beneath him. With a final thrust, he comes, thick ropes shooting into you.

He collapses on top of you, making sure to roll to his weight slightly to the side so as not to crush you.

For several minutes the only sound in the room is the sound of your panting. Yoongi props his head up so he’s looking up at you from between your breasts.

“You good?”

“More than good,” you smile.

He looks sleepy, eyelids heavy and pleasure-filled. You made a mental note to get up and wash off and pee in a couple minutes, but for now you just want to stay here, your hands tangled in his dark hair, bathing in the comfort of his weight and rhythmic breath against your skin.

There was no denying the pleasure he had led you through in the past hour. But this, his arms wrapped securely around you, with no doubt that he wanted them there, that he wanted you here, was the kind of pleasure that coursed slowly and gently through your entire body.

“Will you stay?” you mumble into his chest.

“I’m staying,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “For a while.”

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wwilloww on AO3

[hopelikethemoon]

Moonbeam (Ezra x Reader) [smut] {Werewolf AU}

Title: Moonbeam  Rating: Explicit  Length: 6,000 Warnings: Non-graphic description of bodily injury and smut (cunnilingus, doggy style sex, mentions of masturbation).   Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible.  Notes: So, this is the second lengthy Ezra fic I’ve written this month, but the only one that will see the light of day. Shout-out to @rzrcrst​ for pre-reading this for me.  Werewolves are my niche and I’m absolutely incapable of writing them without creating the lore around their existence. Ezra exudes big werewolf energy (P.S. Javier exudes big vampire energy) and since I’m not really in a fandom until I write a werewolf AU, I present you all with my very own version of space werewolves.  Depending on audience reactions, there might be more of this story to tell. 

Taglist:@princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons​ @pedrospunk​ @maybege​ @chews-erotically​ @katlikeme​ @lose-eels​ @youmeanmybrain​ @theindiealto​ @irishleesh93​

You had heard the rumors, but never once had you believed that they were true. A werewolf living on a moon? Werewolves were the stuff of fairytales. They weren’t real. 

They weren’t real. 

But someone who had come before you had clearly considered the potential. Why else had someone thought to set up a cleverly concealed steel trap?

The pain was overwhelming. Worse than anything you’d ever encountered before. You were lucky your leg hadn’t snapped in two — your heavy coveralls were your saving grace. 

You howled out in pain as you dropped to your knees, trying in vain to pry the trap off your leg. The sharp teeth had bit through the fabric of your coveralls and the dark stain forming told you everything you needed to know about your future. If you didn’t get the trap off soon, you were going to bleed out. 

And then you’d become a smorgasbord for whatever creatures lived on this moon. There had to be something terrifying in the forest that had convinced everyone to believe in werewolves. 

“Kriff.” You swore, your arms throbbing with effort as you tried yet again to free your leg from the trap. You dropped back onto your ass, before sinking down onto the soft mossy ground beneath you. 

At least the stars were out. You could see them through the bareboned trees as they swayed above you in the evening breeze. 

The pain wasn’t so bad at a certain point, most likely because of the blood loss. That would do it. That woozy, tingling sensation that had your vision blurring at the edges. 

A branch snapped nearby, sending a dull spike of nerves through you. You hadn’t made a study of the flora and fauna on the moon — but that certainly didn’t sound like a small creature. 

“Please don’t eat me.” You mumbled, tilting your head to look in the direction of the sound. The filtered moonlight from the crescent moon above barely illuminated the forest around you and your flashlight was just out of reach. 

You heard the sound of another branch snapping under foot, “Hello?” 

All men are beasts in their own right, but the man that stepped into your line of view seemed an unlikely candidate. 

“I do believe that trap was not set to ensnare one such as you,” He drawled out with a honey-sweet cadence as he moved towards you.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” You offered weakly, trying to sit up as he knelt beside you, but your vision blurred harshly and you sank back onto the ground. 

“How fortuitous you are that I take my evening stroll through this very copse of trees.” He mused, effortlessly freeing your leg from the steel trap. 

“How—“

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood, little lamb. I would be most obliged to offer shelter and succor. These woods are no place to remain alone. One can never know what creatures fresh blood may attract.”

You exhaled shakily as you stared up at the stars above you. He was right — you’d never make it back to your transport alone on your leg. “Promise not to kill me?” You cracked, tilting your head to look at him.

He flashed you a toothy grin, “I promise.” 

“What is your name?” You asked as he hoisted you into his arms, with surprising ease. 

“Ezra.” He told you, looking down at you. “And what is your name, little lamb?”

“Ezra.” You repeated softly, resting your cheek against his chest as he carried you through the forest. You gave him your own name, feeling a strange warmth wash through you when he repeated it back in that beguiling tone of his. 

“Am I right in my assumption that you are the occupant of the transport that arrived just two nights ago.” Ezra questioned quietly. 

“Depends on who is asking.” You jested lightly, “I am. Reconnaissance mission for a mining program.” 

“Ah,” His grip on you seemed to tighten. “Another greedy venture to strip the moon of its precious lunaxium?” 

“I can only assume.” You glanced up at him, “Above my pay grade.”

“You should leave within the week.” Ezra remarked, keeping his sharp gaze focused ahead of him. “It won’t be safe for you.”

“You don’t believe in that stupid story, do you?” You questioned, “Isn’t that just a tale to keep prospectors from coming here?”

“I once believed that.” Ezra muttered, before falling silent for the remainder of the journey to his humble abode. 

You had so many questions for your serendipitous savior, but he tended to your leg in relative silence and then left you to rest in his bed. 

From what you could tell, Ezra had fashioned a home for himself out of a crashed transport vessel that you could only assume had been his own at one time. Perhaps he’d been like you once upon a time, a drifter picking up odd jobs and landing in bad situations. 

Ezra was handsome. The moonlight hadn’t tricked you into thinking that — in the garish light of his bedroom, he was still just as striking. Warm eyes, long lashes, a mess of chestnut hair with a shock of blonde, and a wiry frame. 

How long had he been living on Lykaios? Had his vessel crashed on a wayward venture and he’d had no one to come looking for him? Not that anyone would come looking for you either. 

Maybe Shiva. They would’ve probably come looking for your corpse just to get what was owed to them. 

It was a damn miracle that Ezra had stumbled upon you. How had he even found you? The woods all looked the same. 

Sleep came slowly and fitfully. Despite the shot Ezra had given you, your leg was agonizingly painful if you moved at all. Fortunately, there were books within reach — well-loved, with worn pages. You wondered if they had been Ezra’s to start with, or if he’d found someone’s abandoned transport. 

He had excellent taste. 

You hadn’t seen a stack of Chaucer since you were much younger. His copy of Canterbury Tales had been opened so many times the spine wilted in your palm. 

Ezra announced himself with a short knock, before sliding open the durasteel door. “I expected you to be asleep. You had quite the evening, little lamb.”

“I tried.” You made a note of the page you were on before closing the book and sitting it aside on the bedside shelf. “I got distracted by… your collection of novels.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you’re getting acquainted with my old oppo Chaucer.” 

“I’ll have you know, Chaucer is my friend.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the cover of the book. “It was nice to retrace old lines.” 

“He’s an acquired taste,” Ezra tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the room. “Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit.”

You smiled a little, “Earn what you can since everything’s for sale.” 

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “And how true that is.” He gestured grandly towards your leg, “But oftentimes it comes with folly.”

“Is that how you ended up here?” You questioned, “I wanted to ask you last night, but with everything...” 

He shrugged, dragging over a trunk and perching on the edge of it. “Five years ago I stood where you stand. They were looking for a new form of clean energy — lunaxium seemed like the answer.” Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking away from you then. “This place is filled with hidden dangers. Once you can put weight on your leg, I encourage you to leave.” 

“You could come with me.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped towards you, “No.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Alright.” 

“I need to change your bandages,” Ezra exhaled heavily as he rose from the trunk, he turned his back to you as he moved to retrieve the roll of gauze from a shelf. 

Your eyes widened as you spotted a twisted scar that ran up the back of his neck into his hairline and vanished down the back of his shirt. You hadn’t noticed it last night while he fussed over you. 

“Ezra, why can’t you leave?” 

Ezra sighed heavily as he sat down on the foot of the bed, drawing your leg into his lap. “It’s home.” He answered simply, unwinding the bandages. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this—“ He gestured around him. “It’s mine.” 

“And you haven’t gone stir crazy after five years?” You questioned, grimacing as he prodded at your wound. “I was gone for two months on a solo mission once and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to Shiva again. Even if they did rob me blind during liar’s dice.” 

“You get used to solitude.” Ezra glanced at you briefly, before turning his attention to the task at hand. He cleaned the area around the wound, before wrapping fresh bandaging around it. “Once or twice a year, someone like yourself arrives and…”

“And the mythical werewolf eats them?” You jested, sinking back against the mattress as he laid your leg back down on the bed. 

“Something like that.” He offered dryly, eyeing at you warily. “There’s a full moon in eleven days. I would advise you not to wait around to discover whether or not it is simply lore.” 

Your brows knit together and you sat up, arms curled around your waist. “You say that like there’s a chance it is true. You’ve been here for five years… What have you seen?” 

“I have things I must attend to away from here.” Ezra said abruptly, “Rest and I’ll return in a few hours to escort you back to your transport.”

Ezra did little to assuage that sinking sensation that told you that maybe just maybe there were werewolves on Lykaios. 

“Before you settled here, what did you do?” You questioned, leaning into Ezra’s side as he kept a firm hand coiled around you for support. “Your transport didn’t offer many clues, outside of your exquisite taste in literature.”

 Ezra chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was a harvester. A damn good one, at that. But seasons get hard, tides turn, allegiances bend. Fell into a bit of a snare with an associate and had to dig my way out.” 

 “I think we’ve all been there before,” You shook your head. “I enjoy gambling. Nasty habit.” You admitted. “I wasn’t meant to be the one to come to Lykaois. My friend — the one I mentioned before — had been assigned to this mission. They lost it in a dicey bet with me.” 

 “Dicey?”

“What gambler plays honorably?” You countered. “I cheated.” 

“And this friend of yours was meant to come here instead?” 

You nodded, “Tried to win it back right up until the moment I took off.” Shiva had been furious that they’d lost and even more furious knowing that you hadn’t played fair. “I’ve heard the stories about Lykaois and I wanted to find out if they were true.”

“One shouldn’t go looking for the stuff of myth.” Ezra drawled out. “In my erstwhile profession, I had a certain predilection for danger. It can be damning.” 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… is there a reason you can’t leave?” You stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly. “My transport has life support for three. If there’s someone else you’ve got here — if that’s why you don’t want to leave.” 

You could feel Ezra’s gaze bore into your skin. 

“I’m not leaving.” You told him, when he made no attempt to answer your question. “I’ll take a day or two to rest, but I’m finishing what I’ve started.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Then why don’t you leave?” You pushed back. “If it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you trying to leave?”

Ezra worked his jaw slowly, before looking towards the sky and sighing heavily. “I’m not the only inhabitant on this moon. Some have been here for much longer than me and they…” He shook his head slowly. 

You curled your fingers around his forearm, turning to stare at him. “They’re what?” 

“Little lamb, be glad you were found by me and not one of them.” Ezra gritted out, holding your gaze. “Consider your luck and leave before it runs out.” 

He wasn’t going to relent. Whatever secrets Lykaois held, he wasn’t going to reveal them to you. 

“Will you at least let me give you a few of my books?” You questioned, squeezing his arm tight as you used him to support your weight. 

“Depends on what you’re offering.” Ezra retorted, “But we need to keep moving. You need to get your leg up.” 

 Ezra was entranced with your small collection of books. Like a man starved, he snatched up every book — flipping through its pages with reverence. You couldn’t imagine spending five years without getting your hands on a new book. 

You thought he would abruptly leave once he had you safely tucked into your transport — but he lingered. 

“Nothing in the world is single; all things by a law divine in one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?” Ezra read, the words falling from his tongue with a richness that your mind had never been able to give them. 

“Shelley?” You questioned, tilting your head to try to get a look at the book he was holding. 

“Indeed.” He closed the book and held it to his chest. “Our dear friend Percy had quite a way with words. Overshadowed — and rightfully so — by his beloved wife.” 

“I haven’t been able to get my hands on Frankenstein. Not since I was maybe fourteen.” You admitted. 

Ezra snapped his fingers, “You should’ve spoken up, little lamb. Mary has kept me company on many lonely nights.”

“I will part with Percy,” You told him, hobbling towards him on your wounded leg. “But only if you are willing to part with Mary.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, still clutching the book to his chest. “I will have to consult with her.” Ezra told you with a soft smile, “I have no doubt that she is as tired of my company as anyone would be.” 

You reached out and covered his hand with yours, “I will let you reunite the couple for just one night. But you have to promise me that you’ll bring me Frankenstein.”

Ezra’s gaze lowered to where your hand was on his, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll leave once books have been exchanged.” He covered your hand with his other hand, squeezing gently. “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Me.” Ezra breathed out, his dark eyes setting on yours. “I will bring you lunaxium that you can take back to whomever hired you. Warn them from this place and forget it.” 

“It’s not that simple.” You found yourself leaning into him for support, “I have to complete testing and analysis. Reports. I can’t just take back a lump of lunaxium and hope for the best.”

A growl like sound rose up in the back of his throat, “Then I’ll do the reports for you. I know more than I ever cared to know of lunaxium and this godsforsaken rock. You are not to venture beyond this transport.”

You pulled your hand away from his, “I’ll do as I please, thank you.” 

Ezra gritted his teeth, “Do you have a death wish? Now isn’t the time for obstinance. Not this close to a full moon.” 

You blinked at him, “Are you…?”

His expression faltered, fingers twitching against the book before he held it out to you, “Keep it and leave tonight. Please.” 

“No.” You shook your head, “I want to know.” 

“Among these stories,” He gestured to your shelf of books, “I’m afraid it’s an unimpressive tale.”

“I’m always looking to hear new stories.” You told him, grimacing as you put too much weight down on your leg. “Shit.”

“Please sit,” Ezra urged, moving swiftly to curl his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the makeshift sofa you’d made from a weapon crate and oversized pillows. 

He sank down onto the opposite end, hands covering his face as he let out a heavy sigh. “Five years ago, I was just like you. Starry-eyed, devil-may-care.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Yes.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I came here looking for lunaxium like every ill-fated prospector before me. The rumors, the legend, the myth — they made for a tantalizing adventure.” His expression sobered as he stared straight ahead. “It’s painful. Muscles tear, bones shatter, skin stretches.”

Your heart clenched and your stomach roiled at the thought. 

“They say the first was a corruption. There are wolves among us, lurking beyond the trees — fearful in their own right of what looms above them. Someone played with fate and made a monster that even Shelley couldn’t have imagined. Lunaxium has no effect on humans, but it calms the beast for awhile.”

Without even thinking about it, you carefully shifted onto your good knee, letting your leg rest over the side of the sofa as you leaned towards Ezra. “This scar.” You said as you gingerly brushed your fingers over the back of his neck. 

He tensed, fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I was attacked on my second night here.” He confessed, exhaling slowly. “Forgive me, little lamb. It has been a right smart spell since I have felt another’s touch.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Ezra.” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isolating yourself… Maybe there’s a cure.”

“I can’t leave Lykaois.” He admitted, closing his eyes as he relaxed under the gentle touch of your fingers. “We’re reliant on the lunaxium and whatever this moon is cursed with. I would go mad.”

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?”

“There are stories.” Ezra turned to look at you. “I appreciate your offer. If it weren’t for what I’ve become, I would accept it without hesitation. But I would rather perish in the solitude of my transport than lose my mind somewhere among the stars.”

You trailed your fingers from his hair, along the curve of his jaw. “I could come back.”

“And put yourself in danger twice over?”

“I put myself in danger every time I venture out on a harvest with a ragtag team that might turn their weapons on me. Life is a risk, Ezra.” You held his gaze as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. “I can be your connection to the world you’ve lost. Name it, anything — I’ll bring it back here to you.”

“It’s dangerous.” Ezra seemed compelled by the offer. “The others… they’ve been here long enough to lose what’s left of their humanity.”

“Then protect me.” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead. 

“There’s so much I miss,” He admitted, his expression matching the way his voice broke as he held your gaze. “Five years… it’s a lifetime to spend alone.” He curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of your palm. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me.” 

“I’m not afraid.” You told him, and as foolish as it was — you weren’t. 

Ezra’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips and your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat when he started to lean towards you.  

He wasn’t the only one who had gone years without knowing a lover’s touch. You played things close to the chest, avoided anything that could ensnare you — except for him. 

For all of his warm charm, there was an underlying current of danger that had you feeling like a moth to the flame. He was a monster. A creature made from a curse you hadn’t even believed in.  

“Ezra.” You breathed out, leaning in until your nose brushed against his. 

He petted his fingers over your cheek as his breath mingled with yours, “You’re hurt.” 

“It’s just my leg.” Your lips were a hair’s breadth away from his, “I think we both need this.” 

Ezra curled his fingers around the back of your head as his lips crashed against yours. You groaned against his lips and his tongue took the opportunity to slip into your mouth, curling against yours. 

He kissed like a man possessed, desperate and all consuming. He hauled you into his lap like you weighed nothing, his hands clawing at your back, your ass, your arms — anywhere he could reach. 

He was starved for a connection like this. You had sensed it in the way he gravitated towards you, the way he lingered, the gentle touches as he mended your leg. 

You hissed softly as you shifted your weight in his lap, trying not to put pressure on your leg, but it was hard not to in that position. 

Ezra cupped your cheek, drawing your focus to his face as his other hand curled tight around your hip. “Do you trust me, little lamb?” He questioned, waiting until you nodded before he started to guide you back lengthways on the sofa. 

You scraped your fingernails over his scalp as you slid your fingers through his hair. His knee slotted in between your thighs as he draped himself over you. 

Greedy hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal new skin to touch. He was touch starved. Every brush of your fingers against his untouched skin made him rut against your thigh. 

Ezra’s mouth worked down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping as his tongue darted out to taste your skin. His own hands sliding under your shirt, skimming over your ribs. 

You’d missed the feeling of large, rough hands against your skin. It had been more than a few cycles since you’d fallen into bed with a man. A year, maybe two, since you’d been with anyone at all. 

“Ezra.” You breathed out as his mouth moved over your covered breast, his tongue seeking out your nipple through the soft fabric. 

His eyes snapped to meet yours, pupils blown with arousal as he let out a ragged breath. “I can smell you.” Ezra murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease the peak of your nipple, the fabric darkened from his mouth. “You’re soaked, aren’t you little lamb?” He questioned, a hand wandering down your side, curling around your thigh. 

You felt your chest and cheeks burn with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment. You were slick. You could feel your underwear clinging to your cunt, desire fueled solely by the man crowded onto the sofa with you. 

“In my bed,” Ezra whispered, untangling the hand you had in his hair. He brought your hand to his lips, inhaling deeply before wrapping his lips around your first two fingers. 

An unabashed moan escaped you, your hips lifting off the sofa as you ground yourself against his knee. You should’ve been ashamed — he had known that you’d tried to put yourself to sleep by burying your face in his pillow and your hand between your thighs. 

Ezra released your fingers with a wet pop, his nostrils flaring as he held your gaze. “You didn’t come, did you? Did la petite mort evade you?” 

“Yes.” You whispered, tracing your dampened fingers over his scruffy cheek. “I was so close, but it wasn’t enough.” 

He smirked at you as he pressed his knee firmly against you. “May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, sinking back against the sofa as Ezra moved down your body. Skilled fingers worked at the fastenings of your pants, peeling the heavy fabric down your thighs before tossing them aside. 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of you, “Sit up, little lamb.” Ezra told you, sinking onto the ground in front of you. “Look at you.” He drawled as your thighs parted, your injured leg draped over his shoulder. 

You gasped quietly as he stroked his thumb over the damp spot on your underwear, barely brushing over your clit — but even that mere touch was enough to make you tremble. 

“Did you think of me?” Ezra questioned, peeling the fabric to the side, sweeping his fingers between your slick folds. 

“Maybe.” You retorted, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him lick your arousal from his fingers. 

A quiet growl rose up the back of his throat as he leaned in between your thighs. He held your underwear to the side as he lapped at you, his tongue sweeping between your folds. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, grip tightening as he traced the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

“Do you need these?” Ezra mumbled, tugging at your underwear. 

“No. No.” You shook your head, pitching your hips towards him. 

Ezra effortlessly tore away the crotch of your underwear, his mouth descending upon your tender flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, thrusting into your slick core. He grabbed at your thigh, holding you steady as he turned his attention to your clit. 

You cried out as he wrapped his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves. He sucked lightly at it, swirling his tongue over it as his fingers pressed into your cunt. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue working over your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you. His fingers were deliciously thick, dragging in and out of you, brushing over that sweet spot within you that made your entire core quake. 

Ezra was good. 

His name was heavy on your tongue as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, thighs trapping his face between your legs. 

“I need…” You panted out, breath hitching as he curled his fingers within you. “Fuck!” You shouted, nearly ripping his hair out as you felt a dam break as your vision blurred from the sudden burst of molten desire. Ezra was undeterred, his tongue sweeping up every drop of you. 

“More.” You urged, writhing beneath him. “Ezra, please.” 

“I might hurt you.” Ezra warned you, dragging his hands down your thighs as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “I don’t… I don’t know if I control myself.” 

“Forget about my leg,” You tugged at his hair. “And fuck me.” 

Ezra squeezed your hip and barked out, “On your knees.” 

You waited until he let go of you before you gracelessly flopping over on the sofa, knees planted firmly on the cushion as you grabbed at the metal shaft that made up the back of the sofa. 

“You smell so fucking good like this,” Ezra breathed out, hands sliding over your bare hips as he crowded close to you. “It’s been so long.” He pressed his lips to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Same.” You laughed breathlessly, reaching behind you to grab at his hair. “I don’t break easy.” 

“You’ve never fucked a werewolf before.” Ezra murmured, curling his fingers loosely around your throat, keeping you pinned back against his chest as his cock slid between your oversensitive folds. “Have you?”

“Not yet.” You gritted out, curling your fingers around his forearm, thankful that he was able to keep you upright. He was strong, but the fingers wrapped around your throat were gentle. 

The head of his cock caught against your entrance and Ezra’s hips bucked forward, pressing into you. 

You moaned, completely caught up in the sensation of his thick cock filling you. The stretch was just this side of too much — especially in this angle. 

Ezra pulled back, his cock nearly slipping from you entirely before slamming back into you. His thrusts were brutal — all that strength and power that was hidden in his wiry build. He was reaching spots no one else had ever hit. 

He released his tight grip on your hip, slipping his hand between your thighs to stroke your aching clit. You clenched around him in response, making him feel even thicker as he drove into you. Again and again. 

Your nails bit into his forearm, leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as you clung to him. You were so close, perched right on the precipice of another orgasm. 

“Come.” Ezra’s fingers curled around your jaw, his lips close to your ear. “I want to feel you come. The sweet clench of your cunt around my cock.” He mouthed a row of kisses down your neck, growling against the crook of your neck as your body obeyed him. 

He didn’t relent, even as your body pulsed around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunted out, his teeth scraping your skin. 

“Ezra.” You moaned out, your eyes falling closed as you basked in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking into you. 

His grip loosened at your jaw as he started to slide out of you, but you reached behind you, grabbing at his ass — desperately trying to keep him right there. 

Something snapped. Some frayed cord of control that he had been clinging to. 

You grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as he roughly grabbed at your hips. He bottomed out once, twice, three times before he growled out your name and came. 

Ezra curled his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he rearranged the two of you. He kept the softening length of his cock buried within you as he sank down onto the sofa with you resting back against his chest. 

“You’re very strong,” You mumbled, scratching your nails through the hair on his forearm as you looked down at the arm he had tightly curled around you. 

He huffed, a throaty chuckle escaping him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “One perk of this damnable curse.” He brushed his thumb over your stomach gently. 

“Is the sex a perk too?” You questioned, closing your eyes as you leaned back against him. “Because, I’m not sure I want to leave at all now.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ezra kissed your shoulder. “I’ve kept my distance. From the others.” He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to become like me, little lamb.”

“I never said that I do.” You pointed out. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” He shifted beneath you, whispering a quick apology when you whimpered at the movement. 

“I’m okay.” You promised, trailing your fingers up the side of his thigh. “Overwhelmed.”

“Two days.”

“Hmm?”

“You can safely stay for two more days, but then you must leave. It gets harder to maintain this the nearer we draw to the full moon.” Ezra told you, nuzzling at the crook of your neck. 

“Two days.” You agreed solemnly. 

Ezra returned just after nightfall with a stack of research notes and his well-loved copy of Frankenstein. 

“Did you know she dedicated herself to getting her husband’s works published.” You mused, looking up from the notes on lunaxium to watch Ezra as he consumed Percy’s book of poems. 

“Hmm?”

“Mary.” You explained. “As accomplished as she was, she also worked to ensure her husband’s writing would be read.”

“Indeed.” Ezra tucked the red ribbon into the page he was reading and sat it aside. “I believe their romance blossomed on her mother’s grave, no? A rather odd pair.”

“His works are dreadfully romantic, for such a macabre couple.” You pointed out, flipping over another page of notes, copying down a comment on your own notations. 

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” Ezra recited, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I had forgotten that was dear Percy.” He sank back against the wall, pushing fingers through his unruly hair. “I miss the sea.” 

“I’d bring it back in a bottle if I could.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I meant what I said before. I can come back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, moonbeam.” He let the word slip off his tongue like it was sugar-sweet. “You will grow bored of the to-and-fro.” He pursed his lips. “Though I am much appreciative of the offer. You should go back to your friends.” 

“I have one friend in this galaxy Ezra and oftentimes I’m certain they want to ring my neck.” You shook your head. “You deserve to have a friend too.” 

“I will never be able to leave,” He reminded you. “And you can never stay.”

“There’s still an in-between.” Your brows rose hopefully. “A new moon, perhaps? When the moon is there, but not visible.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You smirked a little. “What would you like me to bring back when I return after the full moon?”

Ezra exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I would be forever indebted to you if you might get your hands on a copy of War & Peace. Dreadfully long, but I hunger for some longevity in my literature.”

“Done.” 

He snapped his fingers, “Cheese.” 

You arched a brow. “I have cheese.”

“Real cheese?” Ezra corrected. “That wretched aero cheese is nauseating.” He blanched, watching you as you rose from your seat. 

You hobbled out of the room, into the corridor where the hyperfreeze unit was mounted in the interior wall beside the coolant system. You returned moments later with a block of Reggianito. 

“You’re in luck.” You said, sinking down onto the floor beside him. “I have a hook-up on Sector Block G7.” 

Ezra broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sinking back against the wall with a satisfied moan. “It will be safe for you to return in a fortnight.” 

You slapped his leg playfully, “You’ll let me return if I bring cheese?”

He grinned and continued. “If you come then, you’ll have a fortnight to stay, should you choose to.” 

“That should give me enough time to find War & Peace for you and settle my debts.” 

Ezra took another bite of cheese, before passing it back to you. “Do they still make those honeysticks?” He questioned. “Little tubes with honey collected from…” He squinted, “I can’t remember the planet.”

“I can look.” You wrapped the cheese back in the cloth, before sitting it aside. “How will you be when I return?” You questioned. 

“A little worse for wear,” Ezra shrugged a shoulder, resting his hand on your thigh. “The lunaxium helps.”

“Is it… is it like a drug?”

“I suppose.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “There’s this hunger,” He explained, knocking his fist against his sternum. “This clawing sensation. It gets worse closer to the full moon. I lose my mind.” He shook his head. “I tried to wean myself off two years ago. Just to feel something.”

“What happened?” You rested your hand over his. 

“It triggered the beast.” He answered with a frown. “Middle of the cycle and violent.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” You shook your head slowly, interlacing your fingers with his. “Maybe this will be good for you. Help you keep your humanity.”

“How so?”

“The others, the ones that were already here.” Your brows furrowed together as you turned to stare at him, “Did they lose their humanity because they lost touch with other humans?”

Ezra blinked, “You, moonbeam, are a clever one.”

“I read a lot.” You smiled at him, “And you’re  in luck — I have always loved monster stories.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Mandoctober - October 31: Family

summary: You’re alone and in need of a family and a home—and the Mandalorian notices.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: insinuations of past harm/abuse, soft!din

rating: G

word count: 1.423k

mandoctober masterlist

october 31: family

The wind hasn’t been this bad in a while. It whips through the alleyway you’ve been accustomed to hiding in, shivering into the crates left abandoned by the local shop owners. Your hands grip at the sleeves of your run-down tunic, hoping that you can somehow fill the small holes that have started to tug at the fabric. You have no idea how many days it’s been since you ran from your old life, from your everyday torture—but you know whatever suffering you face in this alleyway now is much better than what you’re used to.

The galaxy isn’t kind and you’ve learned that the hard way. Years of trying to work as a servant to earn your freedom, instead getting shipped around like the items circulating in the nearby marketplace, has been enough to make you come to such a conclusion. You’d only been shown love by the animals that have crossed your path—and sometimes the children of those you served.

But this last one had been different. The entire family was out to get you, working you to the bone and barely paying you a single credit for it, constantly berating you about the Rebel past of your parents. They would purposely forget to feed you most days and nights and they’d make sure you went to bed late and then had to wake up early. Although most of the pain was psychological, you felt so worn down that you thought you’d break—and so you left it all behind. You ran as far as your feet could take you and now you’ve ended up here.

And shivering in an alleyway is a much better alternative to the life you used to lead. At least out here, you have freedom.

Your face hides in your arms as you cross them over your knees, hugging them tight to your chest. You can feel yourself trembling but many things have since become numb. The alleyway has always been windy thanks to its build, but today, it’s whipping harder than usual and you can practically feel every hair on your body standing on its end as you grit your teeth.

A shadow suddenly passes over you and you think it must be an oncoming storm. But then, there’s the sound of spurs treading the ground lightly, as if they’re trying to keep their steps light. The coldness of terror grips you as you dare to look up, instantly meeting the blank visor of a Mandalorian. His silver armor reflects the light of the overcast sky, making blink a few times as you adjust to it. The metal of his armor clinks as he bends down to your level, one of his elbows resting against his knee. You swallow hard.

“What do you need?” you ask, your voice hoarse from its lack of use since running away.

The Mandalorian doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his helmet tilts at you, as if he’s observing you more closely now. You flex your fingers nervously. “I would like you to answer that.” His voice is modulated and comes out in a rasp, sounding gentle yet also revealing how rough he’s used it in the past. It makes a chill run through you.

You shrug, fingers starting to grip at the dirty fabric of your pants. “I’m all right.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t move. You hold your breath, waiting for the moment he cuffs you and announces that your previous employers had sent out a bounty for you. Surprisingly, he stays in place and asks a question that knocks the breath from your lungs. “Has anyone asked to help you?”

You hesitate, wondering if this is somehow a trick. In your desperation, you decide it’s not, and you shake your head.

A grunt falls from the Mandalorian’s helmet in disapproval as he looks away from you for a moment. When his visor returns to your gaze, you watch him gingerly reach a gloved hand out to touch your upper arm. “I will be the first, then.” He pauses, never moving. “Do you like bone broth?”

You nod, opposed to refusing any kind of food when you’ve been living off scraps even before you ran away. The Mandalorian nods in understanding and stands up.

“Stay here. I’ll return with some.”

You nod again and hold your tunic close as your shivering continues. The Mandalorian hesitates, and you watch as he suddenly unclips his cape from his back and sets it over you. Your hands tug at the rough fabric graciously, your cheeks heating up a bit at his kindness. “Thank you—very much, sir.”

The Mandalorian simply nods yet again, heading off in the same direction he’d came. You notice now that he has a circular metal compartment following him, floating wherever he goes. You wonder what he’s bringing along as he disappears from sight, and you feel your shivering slightly beginning to subside thanks to the warmth of the Mandalorian’s cape. Though his actions seem gracious and nothing short of kind, you can’t help wondering what his intentions are, and you can only pray to the Maker that they’re not unkind.

You’re lost in these thoughts until the Mandalorian returns, a bowl of broth in hand that he gives to you once he kneels next to you again. You accept it with another word of thanks, holding it between both hands as you sip at it almost viciously. The Mandalorian remains silent beside you as you eat, nearly tearing up at the feeling of such warmth and fullness inside you. You’re amazed at the fact a Mandalorian finally got you to such a point.

When you finish, you set the bowl down onto the ground beside you, facing the Mandalorian with gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you,” you say genuinely, your voice low as you keep the conversation between him and yourself. “You’ve been very kind.” You hesitate, swallowing hard as you go on. “Now, may you answer my first question? What do you need from me?”

The Mandalorian lets out a sigh, crackling through his modulator as his visor never leaves you. Despite the fact there’s no gaze there, you can feel it burning through you, and you writhe a bit under its intensity. “You are alone.” The Mandalorian pauses as if waiting for confirmation of his statement. You nod. “You have lost your family.” You nod again. “You have no home.” You nod yet again. This time, the Mandalorian returns your nod. “Then I will provide you with both.”

Your brow furrows together as your mouth falls open in shock for a moment. “I… I—I’m sorry sir, you said you’ll provide me with a family and a home?” The Mandalorian nods again. You’re still at an utter loss for words. “How much will it cost me?” You expect there to be some work you must do in exchange for such hospitality.

Instead, the Mandalorian shakes his head. “No cost. No work.”

“But surely, you must need something in return.”

The Mandalorian simply bows his head. “This is the Way.”

For a quick moment, you smile, but you fade when you remember that a stranger is the one offering you this deal. Things could quickly become worse should his intentions switch up as soon as you leave with him. Your guard goes back up immediately and you can tell the Mandalorian notices.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I will not hurt you.” As if to prove it, the Mandalorian taps something on his vambrace, and the metal casing from before splits in two to reveal a small, sleeping form inside. Your eyes widen to see a tiny green baby, his ears like petals as soft snores tumble from his lips. He looks at ease—and you realize you won’t be the first one this Mandalorian’s taken in. “I was trained to protect and to uphold my Creed. This includes being of service to you—should you accept it.” The Mandalorian closes the contraption and faces you again. He’s now proven his ability to be true to his words and keep you safe, and so you let your smile return as you answer him.

“I will accept your gracious offer, Mandalorian.”

The Mandalorian nods at you, standing up and offering a gloved hand to you. “Then come, kar’ika. It’s time to bring you home.” You accept his hand as he helps you stand up, supporting your unsteady legs as he leads you to the family he’s just promised you, one that’s bound to last until the day you meet the Maker.

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[clanoffetts]

Tales From Bespin, Vol. III: Someone Different

Lando Calrissian x Reader x Boba Fett

Warnings: porn with a smidge of plot (18+); anal play, butt plugs, lando is an extravagant bisexual who loves fashion; boba is a reserved bisexual who only cares for the color of butt plugs; threesome!!; name calling?

word count: 5.6k

“Good afternoon, love,” a smooth voice says from the doorway. “Your room is still suiting you well, yes?” 

“Yes, Lando, they are” you reply, turning to look at the man. Clad in extravagant burgundy robes today, he was a brilliant contrast to the constant bright white of everything in Cloud City. 

He smiles, allowing himself to venture further into your room. “I’m glad, darling,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Always with the nicknames and the flattery, Lando was. Today he seemed to lay it on heavy, though. 

“Something is wrong,” you say. It is not a question, and Lando knows that. 

And yet he answers with, “No, my dove, nothing is wrong.”

Your eyebrow arches at him. You’d learned enough from him over the past few months to know better than that. 

“Yes, it is,” you insist. “You’ve been wanting to gain my trust, and yet you lie.”

His voice is a whisper now, and he leans close. “It is not without good reason. Lord Vader is coming.”

You suddenly wished you had let him lie. “What?”

“Lord Vader is coming to Cloud City. He requests I negotiate with him,” Lando says. There is worry in his eyes, he can’t out-talk Vader, much less out-smart him. 

You pull him into a hug, clinging onto him tightly. You’d never held him this tight. Not even those days and nights on the ship when you’d woken up in his arms in the shared bunk. Nor when you’d kissed him. Nor when you’ve fucked him. 

Lando wanted so badly to relish the feeling of your arms so tight around him, your forehead in the crook of his neck. But he couldn’t, not with the fear of Vader’s impending arrival, not with the feeling of your tears on his neck. 

“It’ll be alright,” Lando says. “We must cooperate.”

“We?”

He nods. “Yes, darling, we. I must cooperate with the Empire, you must cooperate with me.”

“I’m a grown woman, Lando. I can handle myself.”

“No one can handle themself when it comes to the Empire,” he says. “We will move your things into my rooms. They’re bigger, they’ll be more comfortable for you to stay in while Vader is here.”

You pull out of the hug enough to look at him. “Am I to be held hostage by you, Calrissian? Is this not the same as the situation you got me out of?” 

Your words are a dagger. When Lando’s heart began to swell with attraction on the ship after he’d rescued you, he’d promised you a place in Cloud City. And that he’d never harm you. 

“My dove,” he sighs. “You don’t have to. But it will be safer, I think. Besides, I can’t take you with me to negotiations, stormtroopers will be everywhere, and this room will get boring.”

You’re uncertain still, more out of stubbornness than anything else. “Lando, I don’t know. And it’s not like you’ll always be with Vader, right? We can still dine like normal. Stormtroopers won’t harm me if I keep to myself.”

His hands find your forearms, holding them in desperation. “Darling, if you dine with me like normal, if you follow me around the city, Vader will know you are important. They’ll know how much you mean to me.”

A smile spreads across your features despite your worry. It’s been a long week of waking up early, letting Lando press one of the many plugs into your ass, going about your business meetings and fashion fittings, and then having Lando fuck the soul out of you every night. Sometimes you’d wander back to your room if you’re done quite early and Lando leaves to play a game of sabacc, which you’ve learned can accomplish more than business meetings often could. There wasn’t a title on what the two of you were, but you were certain he’d gladly call himself your boyfriend. And you’d gladly be his girlfriend. 

“You’re important, too,” you say. “But I guess you can’t hide away in your room.”

The smile he gives you is dripping in pity. “Darling, I’m sorry. But they shouldn’t be here long. At least, Vader shouldn’t.”

You sigh. He just wants you to be kept safe, how can you be mad? After all, he’s seen much more of the galaxy than you. There have been a lot of dangerous criminals come through Cloud City, and this is the first time he’s been properly worried. “Alright.”

His eyes light up. “What should we bring? Your sewing stuff? Fabrics?”

“Well,” you start. “Do you think the Empire will be here long? If not I could use a break but if they’re here for a while I’ll need to keep working…”

“Better safe than sorry darling,” he replies with a smile. “I have a threepio unit get on that. For now, though, let’s have one last lunch outside.” He offers his arm for you to take, and you do. 

Out on the little balcony there was a table set with sandwiches and other snacky things, along with different juices. Ever the gentleman, Lando pulls out a seat for you. When you sit, a small whimper escapes your lips. 

“Are you alright, beautiful?” Lando asks with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes at him. “Of course I am.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks at your shared secret. The secret? The dark red jeweled butt plug that Lando had worked into you earlier that day. You’d gotten used to it for the most part, but somethings still send shivers up your body and sounds out of your mouth. 

“Wanted to ask you something,” Lando says. 

“And what’s that?”

“You mentioned something the other night,” he starts. “About all three holes…”

“Lando!” you gasp, looking around for anyone who might’ve heard him. “Someone could hear you!”

He laughs a little. “Darling, there’s no one else out here. I promise.” You sigh, and motion your hand for him to continue. “I was thinking I could start looking for someone. You know to help fuc-”

“Lando!” You whisper-yell. “At least be quieter!”

He lowers his voice this time, “Someone to help fuck you. Unless you already had someone in mind?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “Not a friend or anything. Or someone who’s here too often, I wouldn’t want things to get weird.”

“Well, I’ll keep my eye out,” he says with a wink.

The lunch was nice, though somewhat bittersweet because of the Empire’s dark shadow that looms over the planet. But it also filled you with excitement. The mix of the plug pressing in your ass and the talk of a threesome had you on edge for the rest of the day. Well, most of the day. The first Imperial ships arrived at dusk, casting shadows over the usually bright planet. All of your essentials were moved into Lando’s room and so you spent your evening designing new clothes, working on orders, and scrolling through the news feeds to see what people were saying about the Empire’s presence. Of course, most of it was positive, but a few negative things slipped through the filtering. 

You were already exhausted from being in Lando’s room, but you knew he was under enough stress having to entertain the Empire without having to worry about you.

-

Lando’s mouth hurt from fake smiles. His voice ached from fake laughter. Finally, he slipped away from the Moffs and Admirals and other people who find themselves to be extremely important. Lando maintained Cloud City’s reputation, though. There was lots of drinking and gambling and fucking, and usually Lando would indulge, but he really did wish to be back in his room, with you, easing out the small plug for a larger one...what he wouldn’t give.

Instead, he slipped away into a darker corner that he thought was unoccupied. “If it isn’t Lando Calrissian,” a deep, modulated voice said from behind him.

Lando whipped around, cloak swishing violently. “What is a Mandalorian doing in Cloud City?”

“Bounty,” the Mandalorian replied. A lightbulb went off in Lando’s head. Maybe this bounty hunter could be the third in your threesome. Especially if he’s only here on work.

Lando held out his hand. “I’m Lando, though you already knew that.”

The Mandalorian shifted his blaster so he could take Lando’s hand. “Boba Fett.”

“Do you like Alderaanian toniray, Boba?” Boba nodded curtly. “Let me buy you a glass then. Gotta get some before it’s all gone.” With Alderaan destroyed not that long ago, toniray had become a hot commodity. And not one that Lando offered freely. However, he’d wine and dine anyone if it made you happy. 

“As you wish,” Boba said and Lando led the way to a private booth. Well, it would’ve been private if it weren’t for the stormtroopers stationed outside any secluded place that could be used to conspire. 

Lando tried to spark conversation with the Mandalorian over the glasses of the light blue liquor, but it did not work. Boba did not even remove his helmet. He’d brought a straw. “You know, it tastes better if you don’t have to suck it like that, it messes up the taste,” Lando had said but Boba obviously didn’t care. 

Eventually, they just sat and listened to the stormtroopers talk. Boba had said one thing, though, and it was, “They’re so dumb, it’s entertainment.” And, Maker, he was right. 

After some quite dumb debates over little things, one of the troopers said, “You know the female orgasm is a myth?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Read it on the ‘Net. In every species, too, not just humanoids.”

Lando turned to look at Boba, who also turned to look at Lando. Lando couldn’t see Boba, but he knew that Boba was, at the very least, grinning at these two idiots.

“You sure? I’m pretty sure I’ve made a girl come,” a trooper said.

The other trooper replied, “No, man, it’s, like science or something. I read it on the ‘Net.”

Lando turned to Boba and said, “I really didn’t think any men thought that.”

Boba nodded. “It’s a shame really, so many women don’t come,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“My girlfriend told me about that the first time we slept together,” Lando hoped you wouldn’t mind the oversharing if he brought back this hunk of a Mandalorian. “Fixed that, though.”

Boba chuckled. “Good,” he said. “Women deserve more than idiots like that can give them.”

Lando started testing the waters now. “She’s gorgeous, my girl. Beautiful when she comes. Beautiful when she squirms, too.”

“Yeah?”

Lando nodded, tipping the rest of the toniray down his throat. “In fact, she’d be willing to show you. If you wanted to see, of course.”

“You’re offering me a threesome?”

Lando nodded. “We’ve been talking about it. You seem like her type.” It was a lie, Lando didn’t know what your type was. The Mandalorian believed him.

“Well, where is she?”

“I’ll take you to her.”

-

You sat on the huge bed, watching some holovids when the door creaked open. You still wore the gold dress that hugged your chest and then flowed like a river down the rest of your body. “Lando!” 

“I have something to tell you, darling,” he says as you rush to hug him. You cocked your head. “I think I found our third person.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a Mandalorian named Boba,” Lando says. “He’s not necessarily nice but I’m pretty sure we can trust him. And I’m definitely sure he’ll make you feel good.”

You smile. “If you trust him, I trust him. Where is he?”

Lando motions to the door, and you open it. Standing there was a man clad in green Mandalorian armor, it’s seen better days, but it seems to have held up pretty good. He’s not super tall, but kriff he is imposing. The weapons on him alone are enough to intimidate but his entire aura is commanding. His presence is so similar to Lando’s yet so different.

“Hello, Princess,” Boba says. “Or should I say Baroness?”

He’s said all of seven words to you and you’re already at a loss for words. You knew Lando was a Baron or whatever, but you’d never thought much of it until now. 

“I’m not really a baron,” he says. “But she does like being called names.” Lando is beside you, an arm around your waist. “Alright, gorgeous, what are your limits for tonight?”

You bite your lip. “I’m not really sure. I mean, nothing too hardcore, but maybe just ask me before you do something?”

“I figured Calrissian would’ve shown you enough to know your limits,” Boba teases. 

You suddenly feel defensive. “He has- He has shown me a lot,” you babble, your face heating up. “Just haven’t arrived at my limits.”

Boba just nods and moves on. “Surely we aren’t going to fuck on a sofa?”

Lando chuckles and shakes his head. “Bed’s through here.” Lando leads the party through the door and whispers to you, “Remember, we can stop any time.” You nod and squeeze his hand.

Lando leaves your side for a moment to draw back the tapestry that covers the large mirror at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Boba has made himself comfortable in a char near the foot of the bed. “Why don’t you hop up on the bed, little one,” Boba suggests, motioning his hand towards the bed.

You feel awkward hoisting yourself up on the large bed with Boba’s eyes boring into you. The visor of his helmet gives nothing away, and while the mystery turns you on, it also scares you. But if Lando trusts him…

“Gorgeous, darling,” Lando says with a warm smile. He climbs onto the bed behind you, pulling you to rest against his chest. “Let’s present you for our new friend, hmm?” He lifts your legs up over his, spreading your legs and hiking your dress up so much so that you’re sure Boba can see your bare pussy. 

“She is very pretty,” Boba remarks. And that’s all. He has sat the blaster on the floor next to him, and you count that as him getting comfortable. 

Lando hands are running over the smoothness of the dress, and he finally stops at your tits. “You want to show Boba your tits, darling?”

“Yes,” you whimper, glancing over at the dark visor. Kriff, you wish you could see his eyes. “Boba,” you say, and he perks up a little. “Could...Could you take your helmet off?”

Lando tuts. “You’re forgetting your manners, darling,” he says. 

“Boba could you please take your helmet off? Please?”

He nods. His fingers mess with clasps and then there is a hiss and then there is his face. He’s gorgeous, tanned, scarred skin, strong brows, and poorly trimmed curly hair. You smile at him, but all he does is nod. 

“Now I think we can show him your tits,” Lando murmurs. And you nod and whimper a please. Lando’s hands come to the straps of the dress and gently ease them down before easing the tight bodice over the well of your breasts down to your stomach.

As each breast pops free from the tight restrictions of the gown, you faintly hear Boba suck in a breath. “Gorgeous tits, mesh’la,” Boba murmurs. You don’t know what the foreign word means, but it makes you feel warm inside.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple as he squeezes your tits and teases your nipples. “He’s right, pretty girl,” Lando says. “Gorgeous.”

Lando’s hand runs from your breast down to your stomach, pushing the dress even further down. He’s looking at you like one of the many art pieces he’s acquired over the years. “Bounty hunters like Fett don’t know how to appreciate works of art like I do, sweetheart.” His hand runs up to your breast again, tweaking a nipple and smiling when you gasp.

“And little rich boy love-makers like Calrissian,” Boba says, standing from the chair. “Don’t know how to give them a good fuck.”

You can’t help but giggle at the two men bickering over who could treat you the best. You’re not sure your body can handle it. 

“Then why don’t you show me,” Lando says. “Show me how to give her a good fuck then.”

“Gladly,” Boba smirks, approaching the bed. “Move out of our way, Calrissian.” Lando moves from his place behind you to sit beside you, watching with awe at how Boba approached. 

“Let’s get you out of this flimsy little thing,” Boba says, and you lift your hips so he can pull the dress all the way off. He tosses the gold fabric over his shoulder without a care in the galaxy. “So kriffing pretty,” Boba says, running a hand over your stomach to your hip and giving you a squeeze. “Your boyfriend was telling me some filthy things about you, princess.” 

Your breath grows ragged as you think about Lando and Boba discussing your sex. “Oh?”

“Mhm. Told me you’re pretty when you squirm,” Boba’s gloved hands were starting to warm up on your skin, as he continued to rub the skin of your hip. “I’d like to see you squirm.” 

You arch your back up, trying to push your tits up so that he’d touch them. “Mesh’la, you’re already so desperate,” he tuts. “She always this fucking needy?” He asks Lando.

Lando’s hand comes to pet your hair. “Always. I have a little trick, though.” Boba raises an eyebrow. “Turn her over and find out, Fett. You’re supposed to be the teacher, not me.��

With curious hands, Boba helps you turn onto your belly. “What’s your boyfriend’s little trick, mesh’la?” He asks, gently rubbing the globes of your ass. “Can I spank you, little one?”

“Please,” you whisper. 

And he does. He lands a fairly soft smack to your ass, but you felt it deep inside, thanks to the plug. “Hmm,” Boba pretends to think. “I think he’s plugged you up, am I right?” You whine, and Boba’s hands are spreading your ass. Nestled between your cheeks is a gorgeous dark red jewel, and Boba groans at the sight. “Very pretty jewel,” Boba says, applying some pressure to the plug and gently moving it around. “However, I think you’re matching your boyfriend.” Of course Boba had noticed your coordination with Lando’s capes. 

“Coincidence,” Lando laughs.

Boba shakes his head. “I wasn’t born yesterday. We’re going to have to change that, little one. Got any dark green plugs?” 

“She’s got every color,” Lando smiles as he goes to retrieve the box of plugs. And when he returns and presents them to Boba, he chuckles. 

“You’re both dirty things, aren’t you,” he says, selecting the medium sized emerald green plug from the box. “Grab her some lube, Calrissian,” he commands.

You clench your thighs in anticipation. It’s really starting, now. “Gonna take this out of you, mesh’la,” Boba murmurs against your back. “That ok?” He presses a few opened mouth kisses as you whimper a yes, and then his hands fly to the plug. He grasps the rounded jewel and gently eases it out of you, twisting and teasing a little along the way. 

Lando returns with the lube as Boba spreads your ass cheeks again, “Look at that tight hole,” Boba says. “Stretching it little by little.” 

“She’s doing so good training her asshole,” Lando praises. “Gonna take my cock one day, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Maker, yes,” you respond, voice breathy and needy. 

Lando is back beside you as you hear the bottle of lube open. “Ready for a bigger plug?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

Lando pets your hair again and whispers, “Manners, darling. That’s no way to treat a guest.” 

“Yes, please,” you correct and as soon as the last syllable leaves your mouth, you feel the cool lube on your hole. “Please,” you whine a little louder this time.

“Patience is a virtue, mesh’la,” Boba teases, but you don't have to wait long before the tip of the plug nudges against the tight muscle. “Gonna split you open, mesh’la,” he says as he pushes the plug deeper, and finally your hole closes around it and the rest of the way is easy. “Much better,” he says, tossing the dark red plug to Lando. 

Boba’s leather gloves are back on your hips, manhandling you back onto your back. “Open your mouth, princess,” he commands, and you obey. He slips a finger in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue around it. You can only describe the taste as leather with a hint of Boba, some kind of musk from the underbelly of the galaxy that you’ve never visited. “Bite down.” You do, and he pulls his hand from the glove, leaving just the leather in your mouth. He takes the glove and tosses it to join your dress, and then has you repeat it with the other. 

“Now, go give your lover a blowjob, princess,” he says. “Put that pretty mouth to use.” You obey, crawling up towards Lando who was already freeing himself from his pants. He was hard, precum already leaking and you ached to have him inside you. “Go on, mesh’la,” Boba encourages. “Suck Calrissian’s cock like a good girl.”

You pump Lando’s cock with your hand a few times before taking his head in your mouth, sucking softly. Your knees are folded under you, and you go to move, but Boba holds you in place. You gasp around Lando’s cock as something wet touches your clit. It’s Boba’s tongue. 

“Boba,” you moan, popping off of Lando’s cock. 

“No, no,” Boba reprimands. “Don’t let me distract you. I told you to be a good girl and suck Calrissian’s cock.”

You nod and return to Lando, taking his cock as far down your throat it would go without gagging. Boba also returns to his ministrations, and as you moan around Lando’s cock, his hand tightens in your hair. “So pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Lando praises. “Making me feel so good. Such a good girl.” 

You continue sucking Lando’s cock, swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand strokes his shaft. Boba’s slow licks to your cunt bring you closer and closer to the edge, the pace impossibly measured. You try to grind down on Boba’s face but his hands quickly move to hold you in place, his tongue never missing a beat. You slip Lando’s cock out of your mouth to whimper, “I’m going to come!”

Boba’s tongue is gone just as quickly as it came. “Not yet, mesh’la,” he says. “We want to see you squirm.” 

Lando strokes your cheek. “You gonna be good and not come until Boba lets you?” You nod. “Alright, good girl, ask Boba what he wants you to do next.”

“What do you want me to do next, Boba?” You ask quietly, growing shy again. 

Boba grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I want you to suck my cock now, pretty girl.” He relaxes back against the pillows now, shedding the codpiece of his armor to reveal his bulge. “What do you want Calrissian to do, mesh’la?” You tear your eyes away from the outline of Boba’s cock to look at Lando. 

“Will you finger me, please?” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Lando says with a smirk.

You turn back to Boba, who has finally freed his cock from his pants. And kriff  he is huge. He’s average length, but he’s so fucking thick. Lando is longer, though not as thick. “I don’t think staring constitutes good manners,” Boba taunts. 

You swallow as you bend down to take him in your mouth. You work your lips around him, already feeling so stretched. You almost forgot that you’d asked Lando to finger you, but as he spreads your thighs apart you remember. “Your pussy is swollen, pretty girl,” he says. “Barely gotten any attention and she’s already swollen, Fett.”

“She’s a needy little slut, aren’t you, mesh’la?” You hum around his cock and then truly moan as Lando works two fingers inside your dripping hole. 

“I think I prefer the red plug,” Lando says as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

Boba’s hand is buried in your hair now, pulling harder than Lando would. “Funny, Calrissian,” he says, and then groans as you whine around his cock. “But green is obviously her color.” Boba starts guiding you on his cock, never making you take him too deep. It’s almost as if he can read your mind. Especially as you started to think you couldn’t do it anymore, your jaw was getting sore, and Boba pulled you off him. “Good girl,” he praises. “Are you close to coming?”

“Almost,” you whine, pushing back on Lando’s fingers. He curls them in just the right spot and you moan, “Lando, please, please, please,” as he keeps pushing his fingers right into that spot, over and over. 

“You want to come, pretty girl?” He asks, and you frantically nod. “Then you’d better beg Boba.” 

You turn your attention back to Boba. You study his face, the slight curl of his lips, the wide bridge of his nose, the crinkles by his eyes. You stare so intently into his dark eyes and beg, “Please Boba, please can I come? I’ll be so good, I promise, please,” your babbling gets more and more incoherent as you continue but you don’t care. You want to come so bad. 

He tilts his head, offers you a smile of pity, and says. “No. You cannot.” Lando’s fingers slip out of you and you collapse onto the bed. “But you can take my cock in that pretty little cunt.” 

You whine at the thought, the idea of the stretch of his cock, of the release it would bring. But you know he will deny you again. “If it’s too much, tell us,” Lando says, and Boba hums in agreement.

“Not too much,” you say. “Wanna take Boba’s cock like a good girl.” 

Lando helps you onto your hands and knees, and Boba makes his way to your ass. Lando caresses your face with a smooth hand. “There’s my good girl.” 

“Alright, mesh’la, here we go,” Boba says. Your mouth hangs open as he pushes in, the stretch bigger than anything you’d felt, and while he couldn’t reach the same spots as Lando, he’d found his own. “So fucking tight, wow,” he groans as he bottoms out. “You want to know how to fuck, Calrissian? This is how you fuck,” Boba drags his cock out slowly before slamming back into you. 

“Boba!” You cry, and you can already feel him pulling out again. You brace yourself on Lando as Boba slams into you again, mouth hanging open and drool pooling on your tongue. 

Lando coos, “So good, baby, so good.” Lando is on his knees in front of you, holding his cock in hand, and says, “I’m going to put my cock in your mouth, gorgeous, since it’s hanging open so pretty.” 

The only response you can muster is a nod as Boba relentlessly fucks into you. It’s so different from Lando, and you liked it, but you ached to have Lando’s fast yet gentle strokes. Not that you were opposed to coming on Boba’s cock, of course. 

Lando being back in your mouth gave you a thrill. All three holes. You felt full, to say the least. The feeling intensified when you moaned, barely able to hear it because of Lando’s cock and the slapping of Boba’s skin against yours. You felt your release coming, again, as Boba slapped your ass. “Take cock so well,” he grunts. “So -nngh- fucking good!”

Boba’s hand is in your hair, and he pulls your mouth off Lando’s length. “Don’t you fucking come, pretty thing. Not yet.” 

You let out your loudest, most pathetic moan of the night as Boba gives one final thrust and then pulls out quickly. You thought the next thing you’d feel was his cum on your ass, but you don’t. “Get back here and make your girl come, Calrissian,” Boba demands. Lando and Boba switch spots, Boba’s thick cock back in front of you. “Lando’s gonna stuff your pussy with cum, and I’m going to fill your mouth, mesh’la.”

You feel Lando’s head against your hole. “Going to be such a good cumslut, aren’t you sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you whine. “Yes!” And then you’re full. Again. Boba gives a shallow thrust into your mouth and Lando sinks himself into your cunt. Your moans are muffled again, but this time there are more, they’re needier. 

“Listen to her, Fett,” Lando says. “Adorable little whines.”

“Pathetic moans,” Boba corrects. “For a needy little girl.” 

The filthy words are too much, Lando’s consistent, deep, and yet somehow gentle thrusts are too much, the stretch of Boba’s cock in your mouth is too much. You try to warn them that you’re going to come, and miraculously, Boba understands. “Go on,” he coos. “Come around our cocks. Make us fill you with cum.”

And you do. You come in a mess of whines and muffled begging, squirming towards Lando but not wanting to move from Boba. Your body shakes with the orgasm, toes curling, fingers gripping the nice duvet. You finally regain some of your senses to hear the two men moaning. All because of you.

“Ready to take my cum?” Lando grunts, and before you know it you can feel him spill inside you, coating your walls so deliciously. You don’t know what it is about Boba that brought out the rougher, meaner side of Lando, but it was amazing.

And then it’s Boba’s turn, “Going to come, mesh’la,” he moans, and then your mouth is full. You’re so full. Boba slips out of your mouth. Both men are sitting back on their haunches, regaining their breath as you flop onto your side. Fucked out and full of cum. “Show me,” Boba murmurs, and you do, opening your mouth and showing him his load on your tongue before you swallow it. Once it’s gone from your mouth you open again. “So good,” he praises. 

Both men get off the bed, Lando helps you down off the bed for a moment. “Let me turn the sheets down, darling,” he says. You give him a blissed out smile, and his heart feels like it’s going to explode. Kriff, he’d employ Boba and do this every night if he could keep that fucked-out smile on your face. 

Just as Lando helps you up under the covers, Boba returns with a towel, damp on one side. “Here you go, mesh’la, let’s clean you up.” He wipes some of the cum from your thighs, then the cum from your chin. “There you go, princess,” he says, getting back up to take the towel to a basket. 

“Let’s take that plug out, pretty girl,” Lando coos, and you turn onto your side, allowing him access to your ass. As he eases the plug out of you, he apologizes everytime you wince. Finally, the plug is out and on the nightstand and you feel empty. You whine. 

“Hey, shh,” Lando comforts. “Give us a moment, we’ll come cuddle you.”

“We?” Boba asks.

“You gonna pump and run?”

Boba shakes his head. “Most people prefer that.”

“Not us,” Lando says as he starts to strip down to his boxers. 

Boba tries to conceal his smile. No one’s ever wanted him to stay the night before. And sometimes he didn’t have enough credits for that long. “Alright then,” Boba replies, starting to unclasp his armor. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth in Lando’s smile or the warmth of your pussy that makes him feel like he can trust the two of you, but he relishes the feeling, because tomorrow when finally secures Han Solo, he probably won’t be seen as a friend anymore.

Eventually, after lots of armor clanking on the ground, you’re nestled between the two men. Your head is on Lando’s chest, Boba’s head is on your belly, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You can tell the Mandalorian hasn’t felt too many soft touches, and your heart aches for him. Under his scars and his muscles, he’s a softy, you can feel it. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs against your head. “I’m glad we got to do this.”

“I love you, too, Lando,” you reply. “And thank you, Boba. I think it’s safe to say you’re always welcome in Cloud City, if you want to stay. Or, at least, pay us another visit.”

Boba wishes he could. But the knowledge that you wouldn't say that if you knew he was here by a tip from Lord Vader himself or that he’d be capturing and probably killing one of Lando’s oldest friends. “As you wish, princess,” is all he can muster before he lets himself succumb to the warmth and comfort that he gets to have tonight.

@delusionsxfgrandeur @hansonveggieclub @fuckyeahbeskar @tibbietibbs !!

[thai-with-booty]

The mall - Part I

This is a story I wrote a while back, but wasn’t ready to share and kept coming back to rather than writing all in one go. It was based around a few years ago when I and my husband were very new to the idea or being more open as we are now.

I can't believe that I am really doing this. Walking in the mall, wearing slutty black high heels (Id never normally wear high heels to a mall), a black silk mini-skirt with a tiny lace thong underneath and a flimsy white silk blouse with just a thin lace bra underneath. My nervousness is causing tiny beads of sweat to form and trickle down my blouse. I had a bet with my husband, over a stupid game, I don’t even remember now what it was, but I remember it being something so small and insignificant, with the loser having to do whatever the other wanted for a full day. I had his day all planned out: fixing my dresser and doing all kinds of stuff around the house. I was sure that I was going to win, but here I am in the mall looking like when I was 22 and working in a bar. If I had known what he wanted me to do, I never would have made the bet.

I feel like a slut and I know that I look like one, too, but somehow a part of me is enjoying this. All of the men staring at me is really doing something to me. I can feel the moistness between my legs and an urge to show off more of myself.

When I first started out today, I was very self-conscious and kept my arms crossed in front of my chest, but realizing that this just brought more attention to myself, I forced myself to act naturally; and soon I realized that I enjoyed having their eyes undress me. I have even found myself trying to catch men looking at me, watching their faces as their eyes wander all over my over-exposed body. Earlier, I spied a guy staring at me, and without even realizing what I was doing, I stretched my arms up, pressing my breasts against the blouse enjoying the look on his face as he stared at my breasts straining the fabric of my blouse. I am supposed to meet my husband in the food court for some new instructions and I can only imagine what he has planned for me next.

I think those three guys are following me. As I stop and pretend to be interested in a window display, I notice that they stopped also. As I continue on, I see that they are right behind me. I have to admit that, as nervous as I am, I am also very turned-on by this.

Oops, I just dropped my purse. As I bend over to pick it up, I can feel this tiny silk skirt ride up my behind, as my nearly naked booty is exposed to them and whoever else is looking in my direction. Knowing that these men can see so much of me, is making me even hotter. I can't believe how turned-on I am! I never realized that acting like a slut would feel so sexy, so confident, so powerful. I am not sure anymore if the reason that I am sweating is nervousness or lust. Stealing a glance at my followers, I see that they are stopped, and if I wasn't so turned-on I would have to laugh. They are staring at me with their mouths wide open. I give them a quick smile and I continue walking knowing that they are watching my butt as I wiggle away.

I notice that they are getting closer and not trying to hide themselves anymore. I am almost to the food court and my appointment with my husband. I step onto the escalator with my little following right behind me, and I know that they can look right up my skirt. Knowing that they can probably see how wet my panties are makes me even hotter. I am tempted to really give them a show by putting my hand inside my panties and my finger inside my dripping slit, but I fight off that temptation. I am on the verge of an orgasm, and I feel my legs wobble as I reach the top of the escalator and step off.

Seeing my husband, he was at the table near the som tam which is my favourite food, he smiles at me and walks away as I start to walk toward him. I see an envelope on the table, and I take his place. I see my husbands writing and his instructions for me to go to the ladies room and open the envelope. I know that he is watching me, and I remember our deal: if I didn't follow his instructions, no matter how stupid, exactly as I was told, we would repeat the whole day next weekend. I hastily grab the envelope and just as I start to stand the three strangers walk by. One of them starts to say something to me, but I just ignore him as I make my way to the ladies room.

Sitting here in the empty lounge, I open the envelope, and I almost gasp as I comprehend the next part of my day. I am to remove my bra and my panties, put them in my purse, and continue to walk until I get to a bench in front of a lingerie store on the other side of the mall. I sit and decide that I am not going to do this. I'll walk out of this mall right now. Not only is the bet off but that my husband is really going to hear it from me about this!

Standing, instead of leaving, I find myself entering an empty stall. After closing the door, I quickly remove my blouse and my bra. While putting the blouse back on, I can't help but see how my large, dark nipples poke holes in this flimsy little silk blouse. As I remove my panties, I am surprised by how moist and warm they are.

I put everything inside my purse but I am so horny that I have to touch myself for just a second. I sit, pull up my skirt, close my eyes, and start to play with myself. Rubbing my clit feels so good! I imagine that I am doing this in front of a crowd, with everybody urging me on. I am surprised again by how quickly, how powerfully I am overcome by pure lust.

Oh my God, I didn't mean to actually go this far but here it comes... Ohhh My God! As I am overcome by my orgasm, I hear myself moan. I try to stay silent but I know that some sounds have escaped my lips.

Now that I have my composure back, I realize just how turned-on I am by showing off my body to total strangers. I straighten out my clothes and as I walk by the mirror, I can see exactly what I look like. As I walk, I can feel how my tits are bouncing around. I look at my skirt and see that the bottom is just below my butt. Just the slightest breeze will let everybody see how naked I am under this tiny skirt. Since nobody is in here, I bend over to see how much of me shows when I do it.

Oh, this skirt rides up so high, I better not if I don't want to get arrested for indecent exposure. As I pull down my skirt, I hear a sound from one of the other stalls. I glance around quickly and notice that one of the other stalls is occupied, with the door still open a crack. I can hear someone in there. It sounds like she is masturbating!

My curiosity gets the best of me, so I move closer and ask, "Are you okay?"

I hear her say yes but it comes out almost as a moan.

I fight off the urge to open the door, but my curiosity gets the best of me and I decide to wait and see this woman. I stall for time freshening up my makeup, and after a short while, she leaves the stall. I realize that she has been sweating, but has a look of total satisfaction on her face. I guess that she is about my age — late twenties/ early thirties — with long black hair similar to mine. I look her in the eye and she greets me with a playful smile as I notice her beautiful brown eyes.

She quickly explains to me that she has been following me, because...

I ask her to repeat the last part because I didn't quite hear it.

I can't believe it! She just told me that she was following me because she wants to make love to me. When I stopped to pick up my purse earlier, she decided that she had to have me, and has been following me ever since. Somehow I didn't notice her.

I don't know what to say. As I stand in front of her, open mouthed, she quickly explains to me that she is bisexual, and often comes to the mall to pick up bored housewives. When she walked into the ladies room after me, she heard me moaning and had to go and play herself, too, but when I was looking at myself in front of the mirror, that brought her over the edge.

Now this beautiful woman is trying to pick me up, and I have no idea how to react!

She explains that many women come to the mall looking for a lover, and she can tell when a women wants another woman without the woman even realizing it herself. She continues, saying that although I may not realize it, I would enjoy myself so much if I came with her.

I start to protest, but she quiets me with a too-passionate kiss that I can't help but return. She somehow can see the nervous and confused state that I am in. She reaches in her purse and pulls out a business card, writes on it, and tells me to call her soon. I watch her leave, then look down at the card and see her name and number.

I better get going. My husband is going to be waiting for me. Leaving the ladies room, I look around for my little group of followers, but they are nowhere to be seen. Suddenly I feel self-conscious and lost. I am in the middle of a huge mall, practically naked. As hot as I felt before, suddenly all of that sexual arousal that I had felt before is gone, replaced by embarrassment and humiliation. I better get going and get this over with before I get arrested for solicitation.

I am almost to my next rendezvous with my husband when I notice that I have regained my group of admirers. I'm feeling more confident and at ease as I find myself with somebody familiar, even if they are strangers. Feeling daring again, I stop at the fountain, open my purse for some change and throw a few baht into the fountain. I can't see them, but I can somehow feel their eyes run up and down my body, but I can sense somebody coming closer to me. A part of me wants to escape and get out of here, and I actually decide to continue on, but just as I turn around, I see one of the trio standing next to me. As I look over at him, he gives me a sexy little smile.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 26

first time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Drunken love confessions and other emotional constipation. A threesome between two awesome facial hair bros and reader. I'm absolutely unhappy with how this turned out because a certain sorcerer insisted on being super soft in this one. But at least there's porn...

On the same note, how do we feel about introducing more m/m action? I am a total slut for bisexual boys. I can't help the gay it just comes out...

I danced with Tony briefly as the drinks finally caught up to him. The ex-playboy certainly defended his title: he had impeccable sense of rhythm and we swayed on the floor in tandem, bothering very little with hiding how hot we were for each other. Grinding our hips together, my ass on his dick, Tony was half-hard and I felt it all through the layers of tulle of my skirt and leather of his pants. Now and then his hands wandered, shamelessly squeezing my breasts and my ass, his mouth leaving a blazing hot trail on my neck and my shoulders.

I wasn't far behind. Tony's hair was all kinds of messed up thanks to my own hands and his ass found itself in the very same palms far more than once. "It's a shame Bruce doesn't dance," I pouted drunkenly, receiving an equally intoxicated noise of vague approval. "The three of us are perfect," I stated something that had been boiling over in my head quite a bit.

Tony nodded again. "Yeah," He was far more touchy than usual; his lips landed in my hair right next to my ear. "Bet we can get Merlin, though. I saw him with Natasha earlier," Tony went in to kiss my cheek and missed again, sloppily smooching my temple.

"He has no business being that fuckin' hot," I spit out petulantly without a second thought.

"You're fuckin' right and you should say it," Tony agreed instantly, both of us wearing almost identical, indignant expressions. We paused for a moment, looking deeply into each other's eyes - or, well, we tried to. Drinks and drugs tended to make focusing quite hard. "So we're doing this?" Tony squinted questioningly.

"What about Bruce?" I immediately replied, mind going back to the way my sciency boyfriend was smirking at my and Tony's reaction to Stephen's grand entrance.

"He's okayed any and all our ventures provided we tell him about it," Tony said after a moment of stunned silence.

I chewed on my lip in muted amusement. "What's, he's got, like, a kink?" I tried to articulate my confusion. "And we somehow ended up, I mean all three of us - without talking?" I voiced my concerns. This conversation was really overdue and I'll be damned if that weren't the drugs making me talk. I would probably regret it in the morning...

Tony's eyes softened immediately, a palm raising to trace the side of my face lovingly and gently. "Me and Bruce had a conversation about... You. We both liked you, it's fucking impossible to dislike you, have you seen you? We had decided to let you choose at first, woved for it to not get in the way of our friendship..." He trailed off, looking sheepish and slurring his words slightly. The alcohol had loosened his lips too. I felt only the thump of the bassline, music fading away into the background, my ears hearing only the words leaving Tony's mouth. "I doubt it would have worked out anyways. But you..." He cupped my face. "You gave us everything."

I would have cried if not for the chemicals in my system. My mouth formed a smile on it's own accord and I reached closer to slot it over Tony's shaky grin, bringing us into a slow and sloppy kiss that lasted what felt like years. "I love you, okay? You and Bruce," I spit out the words I desperately wanted to say for so long. Nothing really mattered in the moment, it was just me and Tony and our shared feelings. It wasn't bizarre anymore, loving someone and being loved back.

"Me too, Princess, me too," Tony whispered, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. One of the many advantages of having a boyfriend that wasn't a six-foot tall muscle-bound fricking bastard.

"We have a mission," I reminded him after another song slowly transitioned into a different one. "But I'm also craving a cigarette."

Tony's hand encompassesed mine as he led the way to the patio where the smokers area was located. Bucky's shiny metal arm stood out amongst the partygoers and we made a beeline for him. I bummed a cigarette off him despite Steve's prominent frown and Bucky was even gentleman enough to light it up for me.

We needn't have looked for Strange, it was a few minutes after I'd taken my first drag that he appeared, spouting like a mushroom right after a rainfall. He was frowning. "Caught some douchebag trying to roofie a girl," He explained. Barnes gave him a cigarette without question, trading a dark look with Steve. "Natasha and Loki are taking care of it," Strange supplied, jerking a hand towards the back of the room.

Barnes eyed Tony until the latter gave a short, resigned nod. "Just don't do anything that will land me in the papers," The billionaire sighed before speaking several short commands into a bracelet that served as a direct communication device with Friday. "I raised the security monitors for any suspicious activity too. Put in an earpiece and Friday will notify you if someone else tries to act funny," Tony finished darkly, eyeing Stephen's shaking hands.

I choose to stay silent throughout the interaction, letting the pissed off men to blow off some steam before approaching them. Barnes' cigs migrated into my hands and I watched the tense, retreating backs of the super-soldiers until only the three of us were left in a comfortable silence. I waited until the man was done with his cancer stick and promptly grabbed his hands, gently but firmly stroking the scarred skin.

Tony leaned on the railing, watching us with open interest.

Strange cocked a curious eyebrow but didn't retract his hands, releasing a quiet sigh when my movements successfully calmed the tremors. "Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of being... Nice," He spoke after a moment.

"I know," I replied dryly. "But being nice all the time is boring."

"A day with you is never boring," Tony winked at us teasingly, noticing me step further into the sorcerer's personal space. His eyes were still glowing and whatever spell he had put on himself was still working, attracting me to him like a magnet.

Stephen looked to the side, at Tony, then at me, before gently pulling out a single hand and making an elaborate gesture that made his skin briefly shimmer. The unnatural pull disappeared - me and Tony both exhaled heavily - yet the appreciation for Stephen's lithe, agile form remained. He was a beautifully made man.

Tony made his own move, a signature of his, placing a steady palm on the taller man's back and looking up at Stephen through his eyelashes. The fresh air had sobered both of us up by quite a bit and our coordination returned.

Stephen smirked slightly, running his eyes over the crowd of partygoers gathered around us. Nobody was paying any particular attention to the three of us yet all of us were acutely aware how much damage could be done by a stray snapshot, an accidental Snapchat feature, or something drunkenly posted on public social media by an absolute stranger. Tony and Strange threw each other a secretive, heated glance while I pressed myself closer to Tony, still caressing one of Stephen's hands. To the public, it was nothing more than a friendly gesture to help out a close friend out of his discomfort.

"Your place? I'm afraid mine's a mess," Stephen asked, uncharacteristically dorky and overused pick-up line.

"Lead the way," Tony smirked, both of us sharing a muted giggle at the doctor's antics. In response, Stephen extracted his other hand from my grasp and waved them about in the familiar gesture of creating a portal. On the other side of the circle was the familiar scenery of Tony's penthouse bedroom, sheets, as always, unmade and my fluffy socks hanging half-way off the comforter.

I pulled both men into the circle by their forearms, making quick in hopes everybody around us was too drunk to take note of the surroundings on the other side of the portal. An obscenely large bed in plain view didn't leave much space for speculation.

I sat down on it, taking my time to observe the curious interaction between two men in front of me. The sexual tension between them was undeniable, it crackled in the space between their bodies, lit an unholy fire in their eyes. If I was completely honest with myself - Stephen was hot, but Stephen and Tony together, it was out of this world and I would have been very content to just hang back and watch the two of them going at it.

Untying and toeing off my shoes had me distracted for a brief moment - evidently enough for Stephen to lose his pretense and roughly grab Tony by his face, smashing their lips together gracelessly. Tony's hands grasped the expensive fabric of Stephen's blazer with a force that was equal to the one gathering in the low of my belly. The dress I wore was now carefully thrown over a nearby lounge chair, leaving me in a set of golden bra and tiny panties. It was a gift from Tony: he loved when I wore his colors.

My almost bare body got their attention: panting, they broke apart to stare at me, their gazes hungry enough to make me shiver and feel like prey. Tony's arms sandwiched me between them, letting Stephen's lips to taste mine for the first time. The sorcerer did not hesitate, he plunged his tongue into my mouth and immediately seized command of the kiss. He kissed like he fought, sharply, with precision and demand.

I popped the buttons on his shirt as he explored my mouth, finding the skin of his chest taut and textured with a multitude of smaller, thinner scars. He was built like a runner, or a swimmer, all lean muscle and sculpted hipbones and neatly stacked ribs. His shirt suffered a haste demise.

The thuds and jingles accompanied by quiet cursing behind my back alerted me to Tony's struggle with his intricately made costume. "Can you boom-boom-whoosh it away?" I asked Stephen.

He pulled away with an amused smirk, waving his glowing hands about. "Do what now?"

"It's what the internet calls your voodoo shit, don't quote me," Tony snarked, suddenly finding himself wearing only his boxers. I was promptly pulled to his chest, in what I knew was a defensive gesture - he hated showing off the scarred area around his arc reactor. He used to hide it from me, too.

Stephen hummed, once again waving his hands about in a surprisingly complicated set of motions. I was mesmerised by his hands - even despite the injuries, they remained as skilled and perplexing. Once Stephen was left in his underwear, I wasted no time in detaching from Tony and steering the sorcerer to fall freely into the large bed.

"You need to stop being so smug," I stated, climbing on top of Stephen and claiming his lips for myself. "It's bound to get you in trouble."

"Is that so?" And still, the man looked as satisfied as the cat who ate the canary. That just won't do.

"Tones, help me out, I'm trying to see smtn'," I asked, feeling the man settle in next to me and trace a gentle hand down my side, over my breast and down to the flat of Stephen's belly. The man under me shivered, face slowly heating up.

"Yes, dear?" My engineer supplied helpfully.

"Off," With a sudden change of pace, I snapped the elastic of Stephen's boxers, causing the man to jump and the very sizeable bulge in them twitch. Tony obediently pulled down the offending piece of clothing, causing Stephen to groan as the cool air hit the heated flesh of his most sensitive spots.

I settled between his thighs, spitting in my palm and giving his long cock a few solid strokes, enjoying the way his hips seemed to involuntarily follow the movement of my slick palm.

"I'd brace myself if I were you," Tony remarked teasingly, bending down to kiss the sorcerer again. Between my and Tony's mouths, Steph really didn't stand a chance.

The obscenely long moan that left his mouth was swallowed by Tony as my lips and tongue made to wrap around the very tip of Stephen's cock. I tasted the musk and the salt of him as I made down his long cock, taking extra time to warm up my throat for the incoming intrusion. And when I finally swallowed him, to the hilt, I swear I felt the way his body shook.

There was a lot more noise coming from the two men - I briefly lifted my eyes to see Stephen sucking a hickey onto the side of Tony's neck with a vigour, Tony's hand holding onto Stephen's hair as the taller man palmed the shorter man's bulge through his boxers.

I was pretty sure my juices were flowing down my thighs. The two men were a Sight; the drugs and booze in my system had me reaching new levels of arousal, levels I previously didn't even know existed. A needy noise left my lips, muffled by the delicious cock stretching them and I knew it was time to grant myself the thing I had been craving for so long.

Swiftly, I pulled off Stephen's cock and sat down into his lap, grinding my panty-covered mound atop his erection that laid on his belly, twitching and leaking. "You want a condom? We're clean and I'm on birth control," I offered.

"I'm clean, feel free to..." Stephen detached his mouth from Tony just long enough to mutter consent, immediately going back to taste the engineer's skin and mark it with his lips and teeth. By the time I she'd my underwear and slid down on his sizeable cock, I had noticed the necklace of blues and reds decorating Tony's neck and clavicles.

"Fuck, yessss..." I hissed, the emptiness within me finally fed. Experimentally raising my hips up and down a few times, I quickly found a rhythm that made for sinful noises to fall from both of our lips. Tony was whining, too, in impatience. "Tony, wanna try something?"

That piqued his interest. He looked at me, eyes unfocused and blown with lust. "Hm?" As Steph continued satiating his hunger for Tony's skin.

I carefully considered it before speaking. "Get behind me," I ordered breathily, slowing my pace just enough to keep me tethering on the brink of release.

"We need lube," He mumbled immediately, catching my drift - well, not quite.

"Nope, we don't. I can take both of you," I stated, bending over and spreading my legs a little wider. With Tony and Bruce, it would have been impossible considering the fact that Bruce's cock was as thick as a fuckin' coke can, but with Stephen being a little more reasonably sized... I must admit, I was curious. It certainly looked interesting enough in porn. Plus, it would allow the two men to feel each other-

"Fuckin' hell," Stephen groaned, one hand gripping my hip to steady himself. So that was a definite yes. "Princess, you're killing me here."

Tony took all of a whole second to get in position and spit in his hand, adding extra lubrication just in case. Thoughtful Tony. He needn't have worried, however - every inch from my thighs to Steph's balls was covered in my juices. To say that I was turned on would have been a massive fuckin' understatement.

"Fu-uck, you're so good, baby," Tony groaned. I felt the tip of his cock breach and stretch my entrance, finding the sting not painful but rather pleasurable. Inch by inch, I felt myself open up. The sensations were incredibly powerful, my release approaching even despite the steady slow movements that Tony was making.

"Harder," I begged, feeling my release approach with the force of a freight train. Both men complied, falling into a careful but powerful rhythm, shaking me to the core with each precise thrust. It didn't take long for me to clench and spasm around the cocks, making both men pick up the pace, their movements turning sloppy. My own imagination supplied the extra mile, figuring their cocks rubbing against each other inside my sloppy wet hole made it feel twice as intense.

Tony wrapped his forearm around my throat, putting a healthy arch to my back - I didn't know whose cock was hitting just the right spot and I didn't care. My eyes met Stephen's - he was watching me come undone, worrying his lip between his teeth, his own eyes darting between my and Tony's face. In a split second decision, I took hold of one of his hands and popped the index and middle fingers into my mouth, softly sucking on them, covering the digits in my little gasps and moans

Stephen's back arched and Tony groaned, stuttering his hips in response. As soon as the little crease between the sorcerer's eyebrows made a humble appearance, he was coming. "Fuck!" He yelped hoarsely, painting my insides and Tony's cock white. The engineer dropped his head onto my shoulders, panting, getting a few stuttered thrusts and he was coming, too, jerking almost violently behind me.

Him shoving his cock as deeply as possible within me triggered another wave of bliss for me. I followed the two men, gasping around the fingers in my mouth and behind the unyielding strength of Tony's arm. I felt wrung out, like a paper bag scrunched up and used...

In the best way. It was incredibly hot. The realisation that I had been marked by two glorious men from the inside out made me shiver and the men in question twitch in response to the involuntary flutter my pussy had done from my thoughts.

"Woah," Tony mumbled, gently pulling out of my sore and sloppy hole.

"Yeah," Stephen was finally speechless and tranquil. A picture of serendipity, really, with his arm thrown comfortably over his head and a sated little smirk on his face.

I couldn't resist pecking him on the lips as I slid off his body to nest myself between him and Tony who still seemed to be catching his breath. "You should be like this more often," I stated, feeling myself slip into drowsiness.

"Gimme a reason," Stephen mumbled, barely a trace of his usual sarcasm.

"Oh we will," Tony finished darkly, throwing a sheet over the three of us and settling a comfortable arm across my waist, palm flat on Stephen's tummy. Last thing I heard before I fell into a deep sleep was Stephen's blunt nails scratching softly along Tony's scalp.

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[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Ouran High HCs

For the fifteenth birthday of one of my favorite romantic comedies, and the day that I started watching said romantic comedy with my boyfriend who is relatively new to anime it got me thinking about these characters and how wonderfully diverse their personalities are. The show has 100% chaotic energy and I love it so much. I wanted to look at every major character in the host club (Haruhi, Tamaki, Kyoya, Hikaru, my favorite twin Kaoru, Honey-senpai, and of course Mori-senpai.) using all their personalities and make some head-canons for favorite group of crazies!

Haruhi:

- She/they icon, we stan

- Always preferred to wear more masculine clothes growing up, they were less expensive than the feminine ones. Plus she felt more comfortable in a pair of shorts as opposed to a dress.

- A very active child, she was always running around her neighborhood, going to the park and doing things with her dad.

- Her dad taught her everything that she needed to know about makeup once she became a member of the host club.

- She worked a part time job in order to help her dad pay the bills and to get food money.

- She thought that she was arosexual before joining the host club. Despite the confessions that she got in junior high they either went entirely over her head or she told them that she was too focused on her studies for romance at that time. Of course all that changed when she met our favorite blonde haired himbo goofball.

- She did wind up taking the conversational French with the twins and often times they'll slip into it for practice. Of course, Tamaki always understands when they talk shit about him so they just do it to mess with him.

Tamaki (my favorite):

- Bisexual king, honestly I love that for him out here living his best life.

- He didn't have much of a childhood between constantly needing to be there for his mom and make sure that she was healthy and okay. It's why he made the host club in the first place to live out his childhood that he was robbed of.

- Is actually way smarter academically than most people might think. If you were to look at the class grades he's always right behind Kyoya. He dedicates a lot of his free time to studying. He's not inherently stupid, just naive.

- His mom was the one that got him into cosplay by introducing him to the various kinds of fabrics. It stemmed into a personal interest that he could lose himself in and distract himself from the loneliness.

- He practiced flirting on Kyoya back in middle school for the future host club once he had his heart set on it.

Kyoya:

- In the words of the great immortal J Michael Tatum "Kyoya is probably gay". It was something that didn't even occur to me until I watched him do an Ouran panel and then I was like holy shit the king makes a good point.

- While Tamaki was his gay crisis, he quickly realized that he would spend forever pining after him and eventually shelved his feelings. Tamaki was his best friend and that was more important to him than his feelings.

- Kyoya has always been a really keen observer of people's true intentions. He's excellent at reading people and knowing what they want from him. The only people he has never been able to read perfectly are Tamaki, Kaoru, and Haruhi.

- He originally didn't want to be a doctor but he eventually wanted to prove himself so badly that he told his father that he would surpass his expectations no matter how high they were.

- Doing background checks on people is fascinating to him. It's not just for blackmail purposes but he likes learning people's weaknesses. He's also an excellent chess player.

Hikaru:

- The definitive over protective sibling. Anybody hurts Kaoru they will wish that they were dead. Kaoru is the most important person in his life and he would do anything to protect him.

- His tsundere tendencies come from a place of wanting to protect those he loves not out of anger.

- While he is begrudgingly worse at letting in other people once you fight your way through his walls he's actually a really amazing friend and s/o.

- His love of the fashion industry stems more from the model side of things than anything else. He can't design anything of his own to save his life.

- He never cared about any girls in his life before Haruhi came into his. Even though he didn't know how to deal with his feelings she was the first person who ever really showed that she cared about him.

Kaoru (my preferred Hitachiin sib):

- One big gay disaster that is absolutely crushing on Kyoya (I just learned about this ship today and it has stolen my life juice.) To blush when he's working with Hikaru to please the ladies all he has to do is think of Kyoya in his brother's spot.

- Is the far superior designer that can actually make really beautiful clothes. Most of the costumes that are worn by the club are designed by Kaoru.

- His hair is a lot softer than Hikaru's even though it's the same style, hair product and everything. I think that his would be more poofy and Hikaru's more spikey.

- Kaoru has always felt like he had to work harder to be like his brother that when you spend time with him alone at first it will be almost like you're talking to a replica of Hikaru and not a separate entity. At first it's a little bit awkward but once you get him out of his shell you find what a sweet and amazing person he is.

- Kaoru is an incredible skateboarder. He loves the feeling that he gets from the wind in his hair and designed his own skateboard. A lot of his hobbies outside of the club are athletic related causing him to have a more defined body than his brother since Hikaru is basically a cat.

Honey-senpai: - If this boi could make cakes and pastries for a living without the threat of eating them all he would make the best sweets. He knows when something is just the right amount of sweet and when something is too sweet.

- He learned martial arts to be stronger because he knew that people would try to take advantage of him due to his childlike nature.

- Honey had a fight with his grandmother before she passed away over something completely selfish. That is why he is so attached to Usa-chan.

- Him and Mori were always really close, even as children and understand each other better than anybody.

- His constant animosity between him and his younger brother is because he feels like he is constantly being babied due to his personality.

Mori-senpai:

- Mori has autism. He is also selectively mute. I'm sorry I don't make the rules, the show itself gives them to me.

- Looks like a tough guy but in actuality would give the best hugs. I want a Mori hug. Haruhi probably gets the most Mori hugs because he is immensely protective over her.

- Aro-ace baby but gives the best platonic cuddles to any of the club members that are having parental issues.

- While he prefers spicy over sweet he does have a sweet tooth at random times of the day. Has been sighted at a local Cold Stone five minutes before closing in the dead of winter, while it's snowing outside by Kaoru and Kyoya while they were trying to find a place to get warm while out on a date.

- He actually didn't start his athletic endeavors with kendo, he started with ballet and gymnastics when he was really young.

And that's all my head-canons for the day! Happy anniversary to my favorite ridiculous throw everything against the wall and see what sticks to it romantic comedy. I hope that one day we will either get a season two or at this point it would be better to just do a hard reboot. Hoping that one day we will see our boys animated in high definition, even though I feel like an HD Tamaki would definitely kill me.

[youlooklikeasixtiesqueen]

I made a Destiel fic rec list

Some of these are S15, some of these are a bit older. It’s not a long list, but I felt like making one.

Rated G:

If The World Was Ending by Chipper99 (set in S15, 8k)

“So,” Dean gets out once he slams his glass back down on the table. “Last night on earth. Any plans?”

Castiel smiled fondly at the familiar words, tracing random designs on the side of his glass with his fingertip. “This one right here. If I only have a short time left here before… I like quiet moments like these. With you. Whatever time is left, I’d like to share it with you. If you’ll have me.”

They both liked to play this game. Throwing out words that could have entirely different meanings. Nervous looks exchanged between the two of them, wondering if the other is going to take up the offer that’s hidden, no, intertwined within words that are balancing on the line between “brothers” or “lovers”.

Rated T:

Hell Or High Water  by SwingGirlAtHeart (post 15x20, 20k)

Dean keeps his gaze on the shadows. “He told me he loved me.”

Sam makes a noise of acknowledgement in his throat, but says nothing, waiting for Dean to continue. Dean turns around, confused by Sam’s lack of response. Sam is watching him sympathetically, expecting more details, and there’s no trace of surprise on his face.

“You knew?”

At this, Sam does look surprised. “You didn’t?”

Dean lets out a long breath, trying to stave off the ache in his chest, and looks back up at the sky. “I guess not.”

build me a city and call it jerusalem by starsandgutters (15x19 coda, 5k)

They win. The heroes save the day, and ride off into the literal sunset on their metaphorical horses. They win. They win. They win. Then why does Dean feel like he’s lost everything?

A coda to 15x19, featuring Dean coming to terms with a few truths he's known all along.

Apple Pie by Anythingtoasted (post S8, 7k)

“So, uh. What now?” He asked them both, and whereas Sam’s face was blank, and the word ‘Amelia’ was clearly just behind his teeth, Castiel spoke up immediately.

“I think we should revisit your ‘Charming B&B’ idea.”

Rated M:

miracles by foolondahill17 (15x20 fix-it, 20k)

Before Jack fades into a glowing light in the middle of the crowded street, Dean has one last demand. The kid owes them, dammit.

“You’re bringing him back, right? Cas?”

Cleansed by tlakht (15x19 coda, 1k)

A ficlet/coda for 15x19, set after Dean gets Cas back from the Empty. Now that Dean knows how Cas feels about him, Dean deals with his own feelings while he's in the shower. With Cas.

That Red Skirt by angelofthequeers (S14, 5k)

When Jack realises on a shopping trip that he's non-binary, leading to a confrontation with a stranger who can't mind their own business, Dean starts to have a few realisations of his own. And his angel is there to save the day and provide answers and comfort as Dean ends up knee-deep in working out stuff he's repressed to be John Winchester's Perfect Son. Sam's just a little shit, but then, when isn't he? At least the overgrown moose is accepting as well.

Rated E:

Four Letter Word For Intercourse by bendingsignpost (AU, 195k)

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

We’ll pretend until we won’t by flyingsolo_flyingfree (post S9, 15k)

There's a vengeful spirit, so Cas drops in to play the role of Dean's fiancé. Then there are Girl Scout cookies, and dusters, and Sam makes lots of friends while Dean and Cas earn themselves the reputation of the obnoxious bickering couple.

Reality in Dreamscapes by anastiel (S15, 22k)

When Castiel wakes up in a strange world married to Dean, he thinks it may be Chuck showing him a version of the future. As days pass he quickly learns he's trapped there with a version of Dean similar to the real one, but jarringly different at the same time. Once he escapes, Cas grapples with the consequences of keeping what he saw a secret or telling Dean the truth.

Too Many Lovers (Not Enough Love) by tlakht (unspecified, 5k)

When a cocktail waitress propositions Dean and wants Cas to watch, it's the beginning of what will become a habit involving several other people - and maybe something more?

Excerpt: They don’t talk about it during the walk back to the motel, which isn’t far away. Dean is making sure to keep at least a few inches between them as they walk, but he can’t help but glance at Cas every now and then to make sure things didn’t get weird between them. He can’t stand the thought of losing over a decade of friendship over… whatever the hell it was that just happened. Cas seems perfectly fine, however, meeting Dean’s gaze with ease; Dean would even say there’s an almost secretive smile on his face that Dean could swear wasn’t there before, and it’s… good to see.

So Very by Sass_Master (unspecified, 12k, Human!Cas)

“I’ve never seen you wear these,” Cas says slowly, glancing down at the delicate garment he’s holding. Dean feels his pulse ratchet up a notch when Cas looks at him again, holds his gaze with magnetic intensity. “I would remember.”

“Well, y’know, it’s usually—” He struggles to find the appropriate word for it, for when he slips on a pair when he’s by himself, choking on shame and arousal, barely gets a hand on himself before he’s coming hard, gasping and staining the fabric. “…Private,” he decides. He’s officially flustered at this point, and Cas’s doubt and confusion are being rapidly overtaken by an interest so sharp that it feels dangerous. “Just… for fun,” he adds.

Cas eyes the panties in his hand again, eyes Dean, understanding dawning on his face. “Wearing these excites you.”

Home, At Last by tlakht (post canon, 18k)

Dean and Cas spend the holidays in Vermont with Sam and Eileen, who retired from hunting years ago and now have two adorable kids who are too curious about the exact nature of the relationship between their Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas for Dean's taste.

But then again... Dean's kinda curious too, and, well. It's about time he came out to his family, right?