#suki sin

[bimbo-inspiration-is-moving]

Taylor Wild, Suki Sin, Bad Bella

[bustincyder]

[sly-kitty]

Suki Sin

[thirstfactory]

Kimberly Yang and Suki Sin

[machimachisensations]

@sinful-souls

"I don't mind much~ at all!" She was quick yet nonchalant with her response. "The name's Suki, if you must."

"Mind playing with me for a bit?" asks the gal, a bit perky in execution as she settled down on thighs and hands tucked between them.

[pastelgothicbunny]

[towneley-godofbadwriting]

this contains nearly all of the kyros they got drunk and now everyone's worried for crosshair this is inspired by a fanfic i read thanks mincy

[musicrevu]

Be sure to check out the new collab!

[bustincyder]

[sly-kitty]

Suki Sin

[wannabehockeygf]

Wild Side - Auston Matthews

“I learned to read between the lines,

You’re talking truths,

You’re talking lies.”

Summary: When you wake up in the bed of Toronto's most eligible bachelor, you decide to stick around. Pairing: Auston Matthews x fem! reader Word count: 6.5k Warnings: Talking about sex (oral, f and m receiving, and then regular p in v stuff) talking about general naughty things, William Nylander slander. Notes: - this is just a silly little idea dump bc I miss am34 and I wanted to write about him - briefly proof read. definitely not much.

he could definitely throw me around 🫶🏼

***

Your 9-to-5 job has conditioned you to enjoy the sweet luxury of sleeping in on the weekends, but today is an exception.

An alarm slices through the peaceful silence like a buzz saw, blaring that dreadful default 'radial' tone. Who even keeps that sound as their wake-up call anymore? Honestly, it feels like a war crime against your ears. Your brain is still a foggy mess, trying to piece together where you are, and why the hell that sound is assaulting you so early.

As the alarm continues its torturous duty, you catch a groan—deep, gravelly, and full of regret. Ah, the mystery man whose bed you seem to be occupying. Right. The events of last night are a bit of a blur, but you’re sure he’s equally as hungover, possibly even more so given how he seems to be wrestling his phone like it’s personally offended him.

The bed creaks in protest as he shifts his weight, and before you can even muster the will to open your eyes, you feel the prickle of his beard grazing your cheek as he leans over you. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice rough and tired, “I have to go. You can stay as long as you want, use my shower, sleep in my bed, whatever. Just… if you never want to see me again, I’ll be back by ten, so, you know, leave before then.”

His words drift into your consciousness like wisps of smoke, barely registering as you teeter on the edge of sleep. You give a noncommittal hum, a universal noise of “sure, whatever,” and within seconds, the rustling of clothes and the click of the door shutting have you sinking back into blissful oblivion. ***

A few hours later, you're jarred awake by something wet and warm on your face. "Ugh, what the…?" you mumble, peeling one eye open. A pair of big, soulful dog eyes meet yours, tongue lolling out in a doggy grin. It’s a doodle, of course—because why wouldn’t mystery man have an adorable dog to complete the fantasy?

You blink, taking in your surroundings. Yep, still in his bed. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and trying to gather the scraps of last night. Your head throbs as you scan the room, landing on the trash can by the bedside table. The shiny foil wrapper inside it nearly makes you weep with relief. No walk of shame to the pharmacy for a Plan B today. Thank you, Past You, for at least being responsible in your drunken haze.

You quickly realize, however, that you’re stark naked, and the thought of shimmying back into that tiny dress from last night makes your skin crawl. But you also smell like a hot mess—a combination of sweat, alcohol, and, well, him. The allure of a hot shower becomes too tempting to resist.

You peel yourself out of bed and find the bathroom easily enough. It’s a shrine of white marble and fancy fixtures, the kind of bathroom that screams, “I have my life together!” You take a moment to gawk at the luxury before turning on the shower. The sight of separate bottles for shampoo and conditioner catches you off guard—this man clearly knows that 2-in-1 is a sin, even if his choice is Old Spice.

Post-shower, you wrap yourself in the first towel you find, not caring if it was used, and venture back into his room to find something more comfortable. You rummage through his dresser and pull out a soft, worn t-shirt emblazoned with ‘Toronto Maple Leafs’ in bold letters. "Of course," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "A sports bro."

Still, the shirt is cozy, and it smells like laundry detergent with a faint hint of his cologne—pleasantly masculine, and somehow comforting. You pull it over your head, feeling like you’ve just donned a uniform for a team you never asked to join.

The bedroom is surprisingly tidy, with only a few personal touches here and there. A photo on the nightstand catches your eye—mystery man and a bunch of other dudes, all grinning like they’ve just won the lottery. Everyone’s in matching jerseys, which only cements your suspicion that you’ve stumbled into the lair of a hardcore hockey fan.

You wander over to the window and pull back the curtains, and holy hell. The view hits you like a slap to the face. You’re at least thirty-five floors up, and the sprawling cityscape of Toronto unfolds beneath you like a living postcard. You’ve seen this city from above only once before—during that one awkward date at the CN Tower where the guy couldn’t stop talking about crypto.

Stepping over a pair of discarded sneakers, you make your way to the kitchen. The place is as sleek and modern as it gets—high ceilings, massive windows, and a panorama of the city that’s enough to make anyone feel on top of the world. The kitchen is stocked like a health nut’s paradise, with fresh produce that’s clearly more expensive than anything you’d buy on your budget.

The doodle, whose collar reads “Felix,” pads along beside you, tail wagging like he’s known you forever. You can’t help but smile at the little guy as he nudges your hand, begging for attention. You oblige with some ear scratches, mentally piecing together the night before. Bits of the club come back—flashes of lights, music pounding in your chest, and his smile as he approached you, confident but not cocky. Beyond that, though? Total blackout. Well, except for the hickeys he left all over you. Those are pretty memorable.

You open the fridge and see that it’s packed with enough gourmet ingredients to make a Michelin-star chef weep. Feeling oddly domestic, you decide to whip up a frittata—might as well enjoy a good meal while you’re here. The sound of eggs cracking against the bowl echoes in the otherwise quiet kitchen. You start humming to yourself, a random tune you can’t quite place, as you chop onions and bell peppers. Felix sits patiently at your feet, eyes locked on your every move.

The scent of sizzling veggies and freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and for a moment, you almost forget you’re in some stranger’s kitchen. You sprinkle cheese over the frittata, watching it melt into gooey perfection, and slide it onto a plate with a flourish. Not bad, considering you’re technically trespassing.

Just as you’re about to dig in, the door clicks open, and you freeze.

There he is—mystery man in the flesh. His damp hair sticks out from under a backward baseball cap, and there’s a moment of surprise in his eyes when he sees you still there, wearing his shirt, barefoot in his kitchen. Felix, traitor that he is, bounds over to him like he’s just won the lottery.

“Well, good morning,” he says, his voice much steadier now than it was this morning. His eyes flick to the frittata, then back to you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t expect you to stick around. Smells good.”

You blink, trying to play it cool despite the sudden surge of self-consciousness. “Good morning,” you reply, suddenly aware of how oversized the shirt is on you. You fidget with the hem, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I… I can change if you want. I just—”

“Nah,” he interrupts, shaking his head with that same small smile. “It’s fine. Looks good on you.” He steps further into the room, his gaze lingering on yours, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged with something unspoken. Eventually, he cracks a smile, and of course his teeth are absolutely perfect. “You remember my name?” He teases.

Your brain scrambles like the eggs you’ve just made. His name? You mentally sift through the fog of last night, trying to unearth any trace of a name, but all that comes up is a blank slate. Not even a hint. Just those damn dimples and a very nice smile. Great. You’re in a stranger’s kitchen, in his shirt, cooking like it’s some kind of Sunday morning domestic bliss, and you can’t even remember his name.

Panic starts to bubble up in your chest. Okay, play it cool, you’ve got this. You give him a casual smile, one you hope doesn’t betray the sheer terror of your mental blankness. “Of course I remember,” you lie smoothly, buying yourself time to figure out the rest of this disaster. “How could I forget?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Damn. His skepticism is written all over his face. The worst part? He doesn’t even seem mad. In fact, he looks more amused than anything else.

You internally curse yourself. Why does he have to be so annoyingly attractive even when he’s being condescending? You rack your brain for a strategy. Okay, think. Just ask him something that forces him to say his name. Maybe pretend like you don’t know how to spell it or something. But before you can settle on a plan, he’s already walking toward you, the smile still tugging at his lips.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he says, leaning against the counter as he grabs a fork, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that’s both unnerving and somehow magnetic. “It starts with an A.”

Your heart nearly skips a beat. Oh, come on. Seriously? You already have one “A” name on the brain that you’ve been doing your best to avoid thinking about, especially given the current situation. As if things weren’t complicated enough.

“A?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady. The last thing you need is to accidentally call him by the wrong name. That would be worse than forgetting it altogether. You take a deep breath, your eyes scanning the room as if the answer might be written on the walls. Alex? Adam? Adrian? None of them feel quite right, and you can’t exactly ask without making things even more awkward.

He’s still watching you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “Yeah, A,” he says, popping a piece of the frittata into his mouth. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you if you don’t remember. I know last night was... well, let’s just say, a lot of fun.”

You catch the teasing glint in his eyes, and it only makes your embarrassment worse. Seriously? You’re in his kitchen, in his clothes, with his dog, and now he’s throwing that kind of look at you? Not fair. But he’s right—last night was fun. Even if you can’t remember every detail, you’re pretty sure the highlights were worth it. The orgasms definitely were.

He’s still watching you, an infuriatingly smug smile on his face. Felix seems to sense your discomfort and nudges your leg, offering silent support—or maybe he just wants more ear scratches. Either way, you reach down to give him a quick pat, grateful for the distraction.

“Okay, fine,” you concede, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’m terrible with names, and last night was… well, let’s just say it was memorable in a way that didn’t include name retention.”

He laughs, and it’s a deep, genuine sound that makes your heart skip a beat. Damn him and his stupidly charming laugh. “Fair enough,” he says, setting the fork down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m Auston. Not exactly a tricky name to remember.”

Auston. Right. That actually fits him perfectly—a strong, solid name for a guy who looks like he could bench press you without breaking a sweat. You mentally kick yourself for not guessing that. But now that you’ve got his name, you feel a weird mix of relief and embarrassment. Relief because, well, now you can stop fumbling around, and embarrassment because he’s obviously been enjoying watching you squirm.

And… oh no, that’s why he looked familiar.

“Auston,” you repeat, trying to regain some semblance of cool. “Got it. I promise I’ll remember it from now on.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says with a wink, which only makes you feel more flustered. You’re not used to this—being the one who’s off-balance, caught off guard. Usually, you’re the one with the quick comebacks. But here you are, standing in this guy’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and suddenly you feel like you’ve lost control of the situation. And you hate it.

You lean against the counter, trying to look like you’re not still reeling from the fact that you spent the night with Auston. As in Auston Matthews, the hockey star whose name you’ve heard a thousand times but never in this particular context. Because, of course, the universe decided that you, who know absolutely nothing about hockey, would end up in the bed of one of its biggest names. And now, you’re standing here in his kitchen, pretending that you’re not about to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

"Cool," you say, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere closer to a faint wheeze. Your mind is scrambling, pulling together the shards of last night while also panicking over how you’re going to extricate yourself from this situation with some dignity intact. Because you? You’re supposed to have it together. This? This is decidedly not together.

Auston raises an eyebrow, clearly still amused. “You cook often?”

Damn it. Now you’ve trapped yourself in a conversation you don’t even want to have. Why does he have to keep talking to you like this? Couldn’t he just leave you to eat in peace? But no, he’s leaning against the counter, looking like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad, and here you are, trying to maintain some semblance of cool while battling the remnants of a hangover.

You take a deep breath, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I cook. But, you know, only when I’m not nursing a headache the size of the CN Tower.” You give him a pointed look, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Auston nods, still smiling in that maddeningly charming way. “I think it’s good. Just make yourself at home—like I said, no rush to leave.”

You nod, muttering a vague “thanks” as you try to focus on your frittata. You’re halfway through a forkful when he speaks up again, completely disrupting your fragile sense of peace.

“So, you’re a hockey fan?”

Of course, you groan inwardly. Of course, he’d bring up hockey. You’re wearing his Maple Leafs shirt, after all. It’s practically an invitation for him to start grilling you about your favorite players and whatnot. And the last thing you want right now is to discuss sports, especially with a guy who plays and clearly has his life way more together than you do at this moment.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you reply, trying to keep it casual. You decide to leave out the part where you haven’t watched a game in about seven years, and your main association with hockey is… well, complicated. No need to drag your emotional baggage into this kitchen.

Auston’s eyes light up at your response, which only makes you feel more trapped. “Oh yeah? Who’s your favorite player?”

Abort, abort! This is a trap! Your mind screams at you. There’s no way out of this conversation that doesn’t end with you looking like an idiot, and you know it. But you also know that if you try to dodge the question, he’ll probably see right through it. He probably wants you to say his name, after all.

So you take a deep breath and go for the safest answer you can think of. “Oh, you know… I’m more of a team fan than a specific player fan.”

Nice save, you think to yourself, congratulating your brain for once.

But then, he grills you further. “Leafs?”

You can’t exactly tell him the truth, which is that your entire knowledge of the Leafs consists of whatever you picked up from your dad yelling at the TV during playoffs. Admitting you’re not a die-hard fan would feel like a betrayal of the shirt currently hanging off your shoulders, not to mention the fact that Auston probably expects you to know, well, him.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, your voice an octave higher than usual. Play it cool, play it cool. “Big fan. Love the Leafs.”

He nods, clearly satisfied, and for a brief moment, you think you might have dodged a bullet. But then he hits you with the follow-up. “Nice! Who’s your favorite player? Other than me, of course.” He smirks, clearly enjoying himself.

Of course he’d say that. You can’t tell if it’s charming or a little bit insufferable that he’s so confident. Either way, you’re trapped. There’s no way out of this conversation without revealing the gaping hole in your hockey knowledge. Your mind races as you try to come up with a name that won’t make you look like a total fraud.

“Uh, well,” you start, stalling for time. Just pick one, any name—just not a goalie. Or someone retired. Please, brain, I’m begging you.

Your internal Rolodex of hockey players, which you didn’t even know existed, spins furiously. You blurt out the first name that pops up, hoping for the best. “Nylander! William… Nylander. Love that guy.”

Your brain screeches to a halt as soon as the name leaves your mouth. Nylander? Really? Of all the names you could have picked, you went with the one guy on the team who has the kind of perfect hair that screams, “I have a daily five-step hair care routine.” This is a guy who, if he wasn’t playing hockey, would probably be modeling for some high-end Scandinavian fashion brand. And now, you’re committed.

Auston’s smirk widens, and you can tell he’s loving every second of this. “Nylander, huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Solid choice. Slick hands, good speed, and the guy’s got style. You got a thing for blondes, or is it just the way he plays?”

Oh, come on! You didn’t need this. Not now. Your face flushes, and you scramble to respond, praying that the ground will open up and swallow you whole. “If I had a thing for blondes, we wouldn’t have fucked last night.” You blurt out.

Auston was mid-chew, and the sharp inhale from your sudden statement caused him to choke on his food ever so slightly. Your eyes widen, and you immediately hit his back, “Fuck, you okay?” You question.

You slap Auston’s back a little harder than necessary, half out of panic and half out of sheer embarrassment. His shoulders jolt forward as he coughs, trying to recover from the food-turned-projectile incident you just caused. Great. As if your morning could get any more mortifying, now you’ve nearly killed a professional athlete in his own kitchen. 

“Sorry!” you squeak, retracting your hand as if his skin had suddenly turned red-hot. You’re positive your face is as crimson as the tomato you just diced for that frittata. Auston waves off your apology, his face still slightly red, though now it’s more from laughing than choking.

“Wow,” he says, his voice still raspy but amused. “That’s one way to answer a question.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a grin spreading across his face. “You know, you could’ve just said you liked his slapshot or something.”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off the embarrassment with crossing your arms defensively, but your heart is still pounding in your chest. “Well what do the other girls say?” You snap at him.

Auston’s eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by your question. For a split second, you see something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe? Amusement? You’re not sure, but whatever it is, it quickly disappears behind that infuriatingly confident smile of his.

“Well, believe it or not,” he begins, clearly enjoying himself a little too much, “I don’t really bring girls home all that often. You’re probably the first one in like, I dunno, a year and a half?”

Your arms are still crossed, but now you’re raising an eyebrow, trying to process what he just said. “A year and a half? You expect me to believe that?”

Auston shrugs, leaning back against the counter as if you’re discussing the weather and not his sex life. “I’m serious,” he says, and his face is earnest, though there’s still that infuriating smirk lingering at the edges. “I’m a busy guy. Hockey season, training, traveling… it doesn’t leave a lot of time for this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, and you feel your face heat up again.

You narrow your eyes, trying to gauge if he’s messing with you. Because come on. A guy like him? Good-looking, rich, famous? He’s probably got girls throwing themselves at him on the regular, and you’re supposed to believe he’s been celibate for eighteen months? But he doesn’t seem to be lying, and that makes you even more uncomfortable. Why would he say something like that unless he meant it?

“Okay, sure,” you say, trying to sound like you totally buy his story. “So, what made you break the streak for little old me?”

You’re aiming for sarcastic, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity there too. Because seriously, why you? You’re not exactly someone who gets tangled up with pro athletes. You’re not even sure how you got here, in his kitchen, trying to play it cool while your brain is still catching up with the fact that you’ve spent the night with Auston Matthews. It feels like some bizarre fever dream, one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to wake up from.

Auston’s smirk softens into something a little more thoughtful, and he takes a moment before answering. “You were… different,” he says finally, and his tone is surprisingly sincere. “At the club, I mean. You weren’t like everyone else. I don’t know, it was refreshing. You didn’t care who I was; you just seemed like you were having fun.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. Different? Refreshing? You’d spent most of the night trying not to think about work, trying to forget all the stress piling up in your life, and apparently, that had made you stand out in a sea of people who were probably all vying for his attention. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.

“Uh, thanks?” you say, the words coming out more like a question. You’re still not sure what to make of this whole situation. The conversation feels too real, too serious, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. You’d much rather keep things light and easy, like the frittata you’re desperately trying to finish before you lose your appetite from all this emotional whiplash.

He chuckles, sensing your discomfort, and the tension between you eases just a bit. “I’m just saying, it was nice. You’re nice.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Nice? You picked me up because I was nice? I thought guys like you went for, I don’t know, Instagram models or something.”

Auston laughs again, and it’s a genuine, warm sound that might be starting to get a little addictive. “Trust me, I’ve had enough of those,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re great for the public, but not so much for anything else. Most of them lack personality, it seems.”

Your mind is racing, trying to figure out where this conversation is headed and how the hell you’re supposed to navigate it. Did Auston Matthews just compliment you? And not in the generic, “You’re hot” kind of way but in a way that implies he actually noticed something about you beyond the surface? This is not how you expected your morning to go.

“Personality, huh?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “So what, you’re saying I’m butt ugly and you just picked me because I wasn’t falling all over myself for you?”

On one hand, it’s kind of sweet that he’s noticed something beyond your looks (even if you’re still not entirely convinced that’s true). On the other hand… well, what does that say about your looks? It’s not like you have an inferiority complex or anything, but “different” isn’t exactly the adjective you’d use when dreaming about some star athlete sweeping you off your feet.

Auston seems to catch onto the shift in your mood because he leans in, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Okay, first of all, no one said anything about you being ugly,” he says, his voice a mix of teasing and reassurance. “And second, yes, I do like that you don’t kiss my ass.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little bit of that earlier bravado slipping away. “Yeah, but you implied it,” you mumble, crossing your arms again in a way that you hope comes off as nonchalant but probably just looks defensive.

He laughs, that warm, addictive sound filling the kitchen again. “Alright, fine, I’ll clarify. You’re not ugly. In fact, you’re pretty damn gorgeous, if you want my honest opinion. But what I meant was that you’ve got personality, too. You didn’t spend the whole night telling me how amazing I am, and that was a nice change.”

Your brain screeches to a halt again. Did he just… did he actually just call you gorgeous? And then follow it up by saying that you have personality? You’re not sure if you’re being flattered or subtly roasted, but either way, it’s throwing you for a loop.

“Interesting,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady even though you’re failing miserably, “So… what did I spend all night doing?” You end up squeaking out, genuinely curious because he probably remembers more than you.

You try to maintain your composure, but the combination of his proximity, that smirk, and the insinuation in his words has your mind spinning in a million different directions. Did you do something particularly embarrassing last night? Or worse, did you do something particularly memorable?

Auston smirks, leaning in slightly as if he’s about to let you in on some grand secret. His voice drops to a low, teasing murmur. “Before or after you begged me to bring you home with me?”

Begged him to bring you home? Really? Your brain feels like it’s running at double speed trying to recall any semblance of that night. All you remember is a whirlwind of cocktails and dancing, but nothing quite as explicit as Auston is suggesting.

“Well,” you start, your voice coming out a bit shaky, “I’m sure I wasn’t that bad.”

Auston chuckles, shaking his head with that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “Oh, trust me, you were memorable.” He leans back against the counter, looking like he’s about to settle in for a good story. “You spent a good part of the night dancing up against me, and then said if I took you home you’d ’rock my world.’”

Your brain screeches to a halt again. “I said that?” you ask, trying to mask your horror with a shaky laugh.

Auston nods, his grin widening. “Oh yeah. And when I did bring you here, you kept talking about how much you loved my beard, and how you wanted to know how it would feel against your—“

You cut him off, your face feeling like it's on fire. “Okay, okay! I get it. Let’s just… maybe not relive every detail of that night. My ego might not survive it.”

Auston laughs, a deep, infectious sound that seems to reverberate through the kitchen. “Fair enough. You definitely enjoyed it, though. And for what it’s worth, I had fun too.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, did you actually…“

Auston’s grin becomes more mischievous as he leans closer. “Mm-mhm,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “You seriously don’t remember? I had to hold you down because you couldn’t stay still. And when we got to the main event, I had to convince you that a condom was indeed important.”

Your brain feels like it's short-circuiting as Auston’s words sink in. Hold you down? Couldn’t stay still? A condom discussion? Scratch thanking yourself for being responsible, you’ve gotta thank him. Your cheeks are burning, and you can’t decide whether to laugh, cry, or dig a hole in the kitchen floor and crawl into it. You knew you’d had a wild night, but this? This was a level of embarrassment you hadn’t even considered.

You’re trying to play it cool, but the way Auston’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he watches you squirm isn’t helping. He’s enjoying this way too much, and part of you wants to wipe that grin off his face… but the other part, the part that’s still processing the fact that you were the one who dragged him into bed, is kind of curious.

“So… what else did I say?” you manage to ask, your voice trembling just a bit, though you try to pass it off as nonchalant. You’re aiming for casual curiosity, but it’s coming out more like desperate need-to-know.

Auston raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered across his face. “Oh, you really wanna go there?” he teases, leaning in closer. His voice drops again, taking on that low, husky tone that you’re starting to realize could be very dangerous for your sanity. “Because I’m telling you, it wasn’t exactly PG-rated.”

Your stomach flips, both from the implications and from the way his breath brushes against your skin. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when the mental image of whatever the hell you said or did last night keeps flashing in your mind like a neon sign. You take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself for whatever steamy details are about to spill from his lips.

“Alright, lay it on me,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel. “I’ve come this far, might as well hear the rest.”

Auston chuckles, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re squirming. “Okay, so after the whole beard thing—” he starts, and you wince, because of course, he wasn’t going to let that one go, “—you pretty much made it your mission to see if you could make me lose control.”

You blink, your mind stuttering over his words. “What? How?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter with a grin. “Let’s just say you have a very persuasive mouth.”

Your jaw drops, your brain reeling. Did he just—? Is he saying you—?

“Wait,” you stammer, your voice rising a few octaves. “I did what?”

Auston just grins, relishing your reaction. “You were very determined,” he says, his tone playful but with an edge that makes your stomach flip again. “And let’s just say, I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

You can feel your face burning, your mind scrambling to catch up. You want to deny it, to say that there’s no way you’d ever do something so bold, so out of character… but then again, you did wake up in his bed, so clearly, last night wasn’t exactly a typical night for you.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess of embarrassment, curiosity, and—if you’re honest with yourself—maybe just a little bit of pride. Because, okay, if you did all that, and he’s not running for the hills… maybe it wasn’t as bad as you think?

Or maybe it was, and he’s just too polite to say so.

“Okay, but what happened after?” you ask, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. “Because there’s no way I was coherent enough to, you know, actually… follow through with all of that.”

Auston’s grin widens, and he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. “Oh, you followed through,” he says, his voice low and dripping with implication. “And then some.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and anxiety curling in your chest. “And then some?” you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah. After the, uh, persuasive mouth routine, you decided to test just how good my endurance was.”

You swallow hard, your mind spinning with the possibilities of what that could mean. “And?” you ask, not sure if you really want to know but unable to stop yourself from asking anyway.

Auston chuckles, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. “And let’s just say, I passed with flying colors. You, on the other hand, needed a little extra… assistance.”

Your eyes widen, and a thousand thoughts race through your head all at once. Extra assistance? What the hell does that even mean? You open your mouth to ask, but Auston beats you to it, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers the next part.

“You couldn’t stay still,” he murmurs, his voice sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “So I had to hold you down. You loved every second of it, too. Begged for more.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it, and you can feel your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and something else—something that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. Did you really do that? Did you actually beg Auston Matthews, star athlete and professional heartthrob, to hold you down and… and…?

Before you can fully process that thought, Auston pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression softening just a bit. “Honestly, you were incredible,” he says, his voice sincere now, without any of the teasing edge it had before. “It wasn’t just about the sex. It was… you. You were present. Raw. Real.”

Incredible? Raw? Real? The words are reverberating in your mind, crashing against the mental walls you've built to keep your self-esteem from plummeting into the abyss of "Why did I say that?" and "How did I do that?" You're oscillating between sheer terror and a weird sort of pride, as you try to reconcile the version of yourself Auston’s describing with the version of you that prefers to binge-watch Netflix on Friday nights rather than seduce professional athletes with—what was it? Oh, right. Your “persuasive mouth.”

Incredible, though? Okay, you can work with that. Let’s not focus on the “holding you down” part because that’s a whole can of worms you’re not ready to open just yet. Your mind flits between horror and a sort of bemused acceptance that, yes, you apparently did beg for… more. What kind of ‘more’ are we talking about here? Maybe, just maybe, you’re the kind of person who, when sufficiently drunk and caught in the orbit of a hockey god, turns into some kind of sex goddess with a penchant for… what exactly? Testing endurance? Needing to be restrained? You’re not sure if you should be embarrassed or if you should just own this.

“So, let me get this straight,” you start, your voice shaking slightly, but you soldier on because if you’re going to crash and burn, you might as well do it spectacularly. “I was not only wild enough to require to be pinned down, but I also made a good impression?”

Auston’s grin widens at your question, a slow, mischievous smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. “Oh, you made more than a good impression,” he says, his voice dripping with that same mix of teasing and sincerity that’s been throwing you off balance all morning. “In fact, you’ve pretty much ruined me for anyone else. I don’t think I’ll ever look at another woman without wondering if she’s got half the fire you do.”

Your brain is officially short-circuiting. Ruined him? For anyone else? Is he serious, or is this just another layer of his expertly crafted charm offensive?

Auston, however, still seems to be thoroughly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Look, I get it. You're trying to piece together a wild night that seems a bit... out of character," he says, leaning back against the counter, still smirking that infuriatingly charming smirk. "But believe me, that’s not all I care about. I want to actually get to know you, if you’ll let me.”

Getting to know you? Seriously? You can’t help but replay the absurdity of the night in your head. You’ve just discovered that you have an unrecognized talent for aggressive persuasion and that you’ve apparently made such an impression that Auston Matthews—and his stupidly fitting moustache—wants to spend more time with you.

You try to keep your composure, but your brain’s still scrambling. “Oh, sure. Get to know me,” you say, your voice a tad too high-pitched for comfort. “Because nothing says ‘relationship material’ like getting tipsy, hitting on you, and then sucking you off the first moment I could.”

Auston’s chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh, the kind that makes your cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson. The sound is surprisingly comforting, as if he's not just laughing at your expense but with you, which is oddly reassuring. You shift on your feet, trying to hide the fact that you’re still trying to process the avalanche of mortification and awkwardness that just buried you.

“Yeah, you’re really selling yourself short there,” He says, plainly, “If I only wanted that, I could’ve just stayed at the bar and picked someone who didn’t talk so much. But guess what?” He continues, taking a step closer and tilting your chin up with his finger so you’re looking right at him, “I didn’t. And you talk a lot, but so do I. That’s kind of perfect, no?”

You bite your lip, feeling a strange mix of flattery and disbelief. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit, not sure if you’re ready to dive headfirst into whatever this is—or could be.

Auston’s smile softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sends a small jolt of warmth through you. “You don’t have to make any big decisions right now,” he says softly. “Just… think about it.”

The sincerity in his voice, in his touch, makes you feel a little breathless. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this guy than just a famous name and a pretty face. And maybe, there’s more to this situation than just a one-night stand gone right or wrong.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Okay,” you finally say as a smile betrays your straight-faced expression. “I’ll think about it.”

Auston’s smile widens, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and letting out a chuckle. “Score. By the way, do you actually think Nylander is cute?”

[thirstfactory]

Suki Sin

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mostly love season 3 of ATLA, but I wish we'd gotten like, one or two more episodes of seeing Zuko as a new member of the gaang. He got some individual time with everyone (except Toph so sad. But even then their relationship was pretty established), but it would have been fun to see the completed Gaang fight some random threat so we could see how Zuko would work with all of them.

Like bring back one of the season one villains- I vote the pirates (though I guess they wouldn't be a credible threat on their own, so team them up with idk the rough rhinos or some new one-off threat). since that would lead to the most fun callbacks.

-Toph would be really mad that they fought pirates and never told her. Then she would be bitterly disappointed that the pirates weren't as cool as she thought they would be. She'd also be floored to hear Katara stole from the pirates and be like "how could you not tell me you did something that cool! Why did you think you needed to pull a scam when you could have just told me that and impressed me!"

-Katara would insist that Zuko be tied to the tree and used as bait for the bad guys at one point and Zuko would comply out of guilt.

-Zuko would have to explain that Zhao hired the pirates to kill him and they nearly succeeded when they blew up his ship.

and Aang would be like "Oh THAT'S why you were all beat up. I always assumed Katara did that."

Sokka: Yeah, I was sure Katara just punched you in the face a bunch and slashed you with some icicles.

Katara: awwww you guys!

Zuko: Why are you so flattered by that?

-Hawky could return solely to fight the parrot while Momo looks on approvingly. And maybe bond with Zuko a bit in a callback to the pilot.

-Katara could steal something else from the pirates. Just for kicks. With Toph's enthusiastic support. Suki too. Girls supporting girls committing larceny.

-Zuko and Katara accidentally cancel out each other's attacks at one point during the melee and get into an immature argument Aang has to break up

-The pirates ask where Iroh is or mention him and Zuko gets all misty like

"you were right, Uncle...I couldn't see that my own ship had set sail...I even threw his pai sho tile away...just another sin on my list..."

"Zuko please focus"

Maybe it would have disrupted the tension, but I would have loved to see those shenanigans happen.

[eclectickss]

PGATW Part 10

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x OC (fem!reader)

Series Summary: The Avengers take a vacation to a private island rental off the Atlantic coast! You now have an opportunity to spend time with your new family, especially Wanda and Natasha. Chapter Summary: You go all the way... Warnings: no plot, smut (bottom!reader, switch!Wanda, top!Nat, praise, degradation, use of wanda's magic, a lil mommy kink, choking, oral, fingering, wanda magics/enchants a strap-on (r receives)), a wee fluff Note: this is the last foreseeable PGATW update! I had a few more ideas though so we will see. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 3.5k

Check out my series masterlist for links to the rest of the parts & general warnings. Check out my main masterlist for more works! Tag List: @suki-is-a-queen @yeetus-thyself @xenaizogie

The three of you walked back to the beach house and rinsed your feet off, not a single word being exchanged between anyone. The silence was maddening as the three of you walked up the stairs to the entrance, ignoring the looks from the avengers inside.

You could feel Wanda and Natasha's eyes following your ass as you lead the way up the stairs, putting a little more sway into your hips, careless as to whether the other two women noticed or not. 

Faster, detka.

Wanda pushed words into your head, but you kept your pace, finally making it to their room. You didn't know how long you could keep control of yourself though as your heart was racing when your eyes finally made contact with the bed. Your feet somehow manage to carry your body to the foot of the mattress, turning around to sit on the end. When you look up though, you find that Natasha is already climbing on top of you, maneuvering you to the center of the mattress. 

Her eyes dragged up every inch of your body, promptly followed by her hand tracing every dent, line and curve. By the time her eyes had finally connected with yours, you already felt like you were melting. 

"We can't wait to ravish you, darling." Wanda climbed onto the bed, sitting above your head and playing with your hair. You watched impatiently as Natasha looked up at Wanda.

"More than you know, Talia," the Black Widow added, smirking at her parter and dragging the witch in for a deep kiss. You almost moaned as you watched their lips work together, slow tongues and small noises escaping Wanda. A soft whine left your mouth and the women finally looked down at you, both smirking.

"Aww, look Wanda, our babygirl is needy." Natasha mocked, grabbing your chin and stroking it with her thumb. 

"Oh, what do you need, honey?" Wanda leaned over your head to connect with your lips upside down, you finding the new position fascinating. 

"I need you two. Fucking me. Now." You groaned. "Please."

"What a good girl." Natasha whispered as she moved back to sit you up. Wanda slid her thighs under your back, swiftly pulling off your shirt before resting your weight on her legs. Nat's hands ran up and down your sides as Wanda's explored your front. Every touch was driving you wild.

"Baby why do you have a swim suit on?" Wanda laughed into your ear. 

"Oh-" You nearly choked on a moan. "The outfit instructions titled 'beach clothes' is the least informative piece of information you can give a woman, you know?" 

The two avengers giggled as you struggled to steady your breath. 

"Well you look absolutely divine," Natasha added, leaning in to kiss the top of your breasts. 

"Black suits you so well, Detka." Wanda grabbed your throat gently, squeezing on the sides and drawing sinful sounds out of you. As Natasha explored your exposed chest, you arched into her contact, allowing yourself to loose control. 

"No, Talia." Natasha pushed you down, returning your back to the support of Wanda's thighs. She looked at the witch. "Darling, remind me what that word was that our sweet little slut used in that dream of hers?" The Black Widow grinned down at you. "Oh... I remember."

Wanda tilted her head, watching her partner in amusement.

Natasha leaned into your ear as she snaked a cold hand up your front. "Your mommies are in charge now, baby. Try to relax and be a good girl for us." Her teeth found your ear lobe drawing soft whimpers out of you. You felt her smirk against your skin, returning her attention to your chest as she slid one of your swim suit straps down your shoulder.

Wanda's hands worked the other strap down and Natasha watched as the witch shoved both of her palms down your suit and onto your breasts. 

"Detka, you feel so good." Wanda leaned over, speaking next to your ear. You moaned as she rolled your nipples between her soft fingers. The sounds coming out of your mouth were cut short by Natasha finally making contact with your lips. She initially caught you off guard, but you quickly eased into the rhythm, allowing her tongue to enter and explore you. 

You wanted to reach up to pull her kisses further into you, but Wanda quickly pulled her hands out of your top to pin yours to the bed. "Don't get greedy Talia. Your mommies are being nice to you right now."

That statement made you groan into Natasha's mouth, wanting to be obedient, but also wanting to know what the two of them looked like when you were misbehaving. Perhaps later. Wanda managed to slip her fingertips under your back to pull at the tie, taunting you as she slowly undid the knot. 

Natasha helped out by taking the rest of the garment off your body, your bare chest now exposed to the two women. "Oh, honey," Natasha began, staring at your erect nipples. "I'm going to devour you."

Wanda fixed her position under you so that she could access your lips as Natasha latched her own around your delicate nipples, the mouths of both women on you. The witch was softly making out with you, shoving her tongue in-between your teeth, giving way to your small bites and tugs. Natasha swirled her own tongue around one of your nipples as she began to pinch the other. Both women grew addicted to the vibrations coming off of your body as you allowed your quiet moans to consume the room. 

Wanda returned one of her hands around your neck, pulling her into you as she shoved her tongue as deep as possible. The witch forced a light choke out of you, sending shocks down to both of your cores. Natasha carried her kisses to the center of your chest, beginning to pull your thin skin between her teeth, leaving a mess of red marks behind. Your eyes were shut tight in ecstasy as her hickeys trailed down to your lower stomach, the Black Widow's hands running up and down your sides as Wanda's found your breasts. 

When the witch's mouth left yours, you gasped for air. 

"Oh my gods." Your chest heaved. "Fuck i'm- i'm going crazy."

Wanda laughed. "Yeah, detka?" Her fingertips pulled at your nipples. 

"Oh, Wands - please." You whimpered. 

"What is it, pretty girl? Are our generous touches not enough for you?"

Your eyes rolled into the back of the back of your head as Wanda played dumb. You could feel Natasha pop the button on your shorts, still keeping her kisses on your stomach as she listened to the conversation. 

"Fuck- I- you- both of you feel so god damn good." You struggled to form sentences. "But I need something inside of me."

Natasha laughed. "Patience, kotenok. We wanna take our time with you." She ran her hands down your hips. "Wanda, darling, why don't you put those pretty fingers of yours into our slut's little mouth. Keep her busy for a moment."

The witches eyes glazed over as she did what she was told, you welcoming the presence of two slender fingers on your tongue. You roughly sucked, swirling your tongue around her digits while staring into Wanda's piercing green eyes. You could tell Wanda was getting lost as you moaned on her, well aware of how you were effecting her. 

"Is our girl being good for you, honey?" Natasha stared at the sight before her. 

"Oh, so good." Wanda nearly whispered, refusing to break eye contact with you as she pulled her drenched fingers out of your mouth. 

"Perfect. Do you wanna reward her a little?" Natasha asked as she licked your cunt on top of your shorts.

"Fuck." You whispered. 

"Hmm," Wanda began. "Maybe she could touch me a little." The witch grabbed your wrist and placed your fingertips under her shirt. 

"Please."

Wanda laughed as she began to reposition herself. She replaced her thighs that you had been supported on with a pillow, then proceeded to straddle your chest, careful of the weight she was putting on you. You could no longer see Natasha, but you seemed to not mind as you could feel the Black Widow tease at the hem of your shorts and leave hickeys on your thighs. 

Above you, Wanda pulled her top off, exposing the skimpy bralette that was attempting to support her breasts. Before you got the chance to process the sight before you, the witch had also managed to unclasp her bra. You watched as the fabric sagged on her arms, but it wasn't sliding down all the way. 

"Go on, Talia." 

You immediately reached up to drag the bralette down the rest of the way, heart racing at the sight of her bare chest. You ran your hands all over her thighs and up to her chest, relishing your first touches on her hard nipples. The witch moaned as you began to massage her, chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths. 

At the same time, you could feel Natasha slowly work your shorts off of your hips, taking the black swim suit bottoms down with them. 

"Oh, baby." Natasha breathed at the sight of your dripping cunt, bending down to blow hot air your pussy, drawing a whine from your throat. "You look divine." She returned to marking up you inner thighs, but you now felt so much more sensitive. Unable to control yourself, a hand flew up to grip Wanda's neck as the other went to pull her waistband, giving a slight base of friction on her pussy. 

"Fucking- shit." Wanda gasped. "Talia." Your name escaped her mouth as more of a moan.

You smirked below the witch, breathing heavily and happily. You allowed your fingers on the top of her shorts to lower to her clothed cunt, slowly rubbing her out. The hand on her neck moved to her shoulder, making it easier for you to move her around. 

"Oh my gods." Wanda whispered, a hand flying to your own neck to support herself. You grinned taking deep, careful breaths, deciding to tug at Wanda's shorts to see what she would do. The witch's sharp green eyes met yours aggressively as you watched a switch flick in her brain. 

Red tendrils swirled around her free hand and she flicked them to the side of the room. You felt the fabric of her shorts leave your chest, the garment flying in the direction of her fingers. You gasped at Wanda's display of power, now able to see the wet spot on her panties.

This caught Natasha's attention as she chuckled into your pussy. "Go on, darling, let her taste you. I want to hear everything."

Wanda's glare didn't leave as she pushed up onto her knees, now hovering her panties over your salivating mouth. With another swift flick, her panties were off, her sweet smell hitting you like a bus. 

"Come on, Talia. I know you're curious." She smirked, running her slender fingers through your hair before leaning forward to support herself and sink towards you. 

Slowly, you reached your tongue out to her center, holding onto her hips. The moment that her warm cunt reached your mouth though, Natasha also made contact with your pussy. Your mouth quickly sent vibrations into Wanda, who in turn filled the room with her own moans. 

Natasha smirked. She had the both of you in control. 

"Fuck," Wanda groaned as your tongue swirled in her hot, wet mess. While forming a pattern was difficult while Natasha also sucked on your clit, you managed to explore Wanda's cunt, controlling her movements with your hands on her hips. "Natasha, baby, she feels so good," Wanda groaned.

"Yes she does," The Black Widow moaned into you, swirling her saliva around in torturous circles. She lavished in the sounds that escaped your throat, matching every dip and lick up to a whimper or groan. Your legs fought against the strength of Natahsa's arms and Wanda's thighs as you writhed under the two women, this moment in time sending you to a plane that feels like heaven. Welcomed knots began to form in your stomach as the two women worked their magic.

"May I - pl- please cum?" You managed to squeak out under Wanda's pussy. Natasha paused, dropping your heart off the side of a building. 

"Hmm... you can cum once our lovely Wanda does... that'll be a good reward." With that, she immediately returned to eating you out, making you gasp into Wanda. Our  Wanda, Natasha had said. 

You had to make Wanda cum before Natasha got to you... you had to show the two women how much of a good girl you could be. You focused all of your attention on Wanda, desperate to accomplish your goal. You quickly found a repetition that seemed to encapsulate the woman above you in pleasure, holding on tight to her hips so that you could keep her build in control.

Natasha could tell that you were closing in on the witch, so she decided to challenge you by picking up the pace of her torturous ministrations. You wouldn't give in though, you couldn't. The sounds coming from Wanda were telling you that you were close, so you pushed through. You forced yourself to only focus on the witch... how her swollen folds felt against your tastebuds and hips struggled under your hands. You zoned in on each swipe of your tongue, ensuring that her clit was run over through the abundant saliva and oozing slick. 

"Im gonna cum." She groaned breathily. You did it. You made no changes to your ministrations, ensuring that her orgasam hit. Wanda took a deep breath as her release sent a rush of physical power through your body and into Natasha's mouth, causing one more vibrating ripple to coarse through your pussy and add your orgasam to Wanda's. 

You were no longer able focus on the precise movements of your mouth as your walls pulsated around Natasha's tongue, the woman below you working off your high while you messily slowed down Wanda's. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," You breathed into Wanda's cunt, trying to steady your body. You and witch took a few more seconds to regulate your racing hearts as Natasha torturously cleaned up your mess. 

Eventually, Wanda collapsed to the side of you, allowing the mattress to catch all of her weight. 

"Thank you," you managed to croak out. "Thank you mommies. That - that felt so good. You made me feel so good." You whined into the comforter, unaware the two women were staring at each-other as you thanked them. 

"Oh, what a good, good girl. Thanking her mommies for her orgasam." Natasha cooed and you turned to stare at her. The Black Widow made sure you were focused on her as she pulled her top off. You eyes the expanses of her stunning skin, having little time to admire her beauty before she also tossed her bra off. Before you knew it, the damp pool had returned to your core. 

Natasha abruptly reached for one of your hands, moving it to lay on one of her breasts. Joyously yet cautiously, you began to massage her, watching the eyelids of the woman before you slowly close and open. 

"Maybe we should reward her, Wanda?"

You flipped your head to find the witch smirking. "I agree, my love." Her green eyes taunted yours. 

"Wonderful," Natasha replied. "Get on your knees, Talia. All fours, honey." 

You obeyed immediately, the commands affecting you in ways you could never imagine. You were still a little worn from your first orgasam, but you assumed that feeling wouldn't last too much longer.

You could hear the sound of Natasha loosing her pants, but you couldn't see from your new position on top of the mattress. Wanda tilted your chin up to her, grinning.

"Something you'll come to understand very quickly is that I am not your average partner, Talia." Her accent sent chills down your spine. "I come with perks... like this one." Wanda let go of your chin but made sure that her hand was still in your line of sight. You watched as magic shot out of her hand in the direction of Natasha, but you couldn't see what it was doing. 

You looked at the witch in confusion, not feeling anything. She simply smirked, moving her focus to Natasha, as if giving her a signal. All of a sudden, a foreign object pressed up against your ass, drawing a loud gasp out of your throat. 

"Now don't be shy, detka. All I've given our Natasha is a little... add-on." Wanda whispered in your ear, entertained as she watched your eyes widen. These women were going to be the death of you. You whined as the witch playfully tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.  Natasha moved closer to you, now fully rubbing up against your entrance from behind, teasing you as she pleases.

"That's not little," You croaked and Natasha laughed, dragging her hands up and down your back. 

"You'll be alright, honey. You can let us know if it's too much, but I don't think you will." She grabbed onto your hips, slowly sliding into you. Soft, sinful sounds escaped your throat, knowing Natasha was right as she filled you up. 

"Fucking hell, kotenok, you're so tight for me." She moaned above you as you gasped.

"You- can feel me?"

"Yes darling," Wanda jumped in, crawling up high on the bed so you could see her and she could watch. "Natasha can feel all of you." Wanda smirked.

"Ohmygods." You mumbled as the Black Widow started to slowly pump in and out of your slick, addicted to the way her nails were starting to rake down your lower back and hips. The sensation consumed you, and to add to the heat of the moment, Wanda had now started touching herself in front of you. 

"You like what you're seeing, detka?" The witch asked.

"What i'm seeing... what i'm-" You could barely think as Natasha picked up the pace. "What I'm feeling. Ohfuck." You whined watching Wanda's delicate fingers. "Feeling so fucked out and pretty for my mommies."

"You're doing so well, darling," Natasha added, steadying your hips as you began to loose control. "Your pussy feels so warm around my cock... letting me fuck you like this, so needy and numb. Do you think you two will be able to cum with me?"

Natasha's words had an evident effect on you and Wanda, causing you both to give hurried nods. "Go- good girls." Words were beginning to have a harder time escaping her mouth, just as your brain kept getting fuzzier. "Ill just- need a-a few... few more m-moments..."

You could feel yourself on the brink of an orgasam, needing to dedicate all power to holding back. You whimpered as Natasha continued to brutally thrust into you.

The redhead gasped. "Fuck- i'm gonna-"

All of a sudden, Natasha had released into you, sending you over the edge. Wanda watched as the two of you collapsed, allowing her to finish herself off too. The three of you ended up in a sweaty sticky mess, piled on top of each other.

You grinned, happily surrounded by your two favorite people on earth. Wanda reached to hug your body and you reached for Natasha, everyone entangled and satisfied. Despite your sticky skin, you never wanted to let go. 

But nothing can last forever. Eventually, Natasha wiggled out of your grasp and stood up on the floor.

"What! No!" You groaned, missing her warmth. 

"Oh hush, Talia." She giggled. "I have to use the bathroom and clean up. I'm not running away." She said, waltzing towards the other end of the room, fully aware you and Wanda were watching her ass. "Besides, you two should probably clean up as well."

You turned to face Wanda.

"She's right, you know..." The witch spoke softly, her eyes shinning with amusement. 

"But i'm so cozy here..." You looked up to her innocently, flickering your glance in between her eyes and lips. The witch rolled her eyes but couldn't resist as she leaned in to softly capture your mouth, admiring your sweet and sincere kisses.

"C'mon, Talia." She pinched your ass, holding her hand out to you as she stood up. You hesitantly grabbed it, but you immediately realized that you never wanted to let go. The witch dragged you to the bathroom, the two of you joining Natasha in bliss... this was something you could get used to.

[katsukikitten]

Jo has had this head cannon forever but Katsuki not being able to last long. Imma run with it for a second.

Cause imagine it's been a while since he's fucked right? Since he's even had time to fuck his fist to the thought of anything and he figures he has too much pent up energy that aggression and pro hero work isn't helping with.

So he finds you on a dating app, puts in his bio, looking for sex and that's it. He doesn't expect anything to come of it, figures most people will think it's a catfish account since he is the number one hero and he wonders if he'll have to ask Denki about that service the electric blonde used to use.

But you dm him, figure it out right away or maybe you don't even know him at all, telling him you're down to fuck.

"Been awhile." He'll gruff, rock hard in his boxers as you paw at him, leaving sticky lip stick trails over his throat and mouth.

"That's 'kay." You reassure him, "We can go multiple rounds."

He's worried you don't get it, it's been so long and you're so hot he's throbbing right now, twitching that he can't control and he thinks he can cum from just kissing. He's had a tight grip on your wrist since you tried to reach for his cock fifteen minutes ago.

"I promise, it's fine Katsuki." His eyes flutter from the sound of his name on your sinful lips, his grip on you loosens and you take the opportunity to shove him onto the bed, crawling between his legs and quickly ripping his boxers from his body. Salivating from how he springs free, how fat and long it is.

How the tip of it is red and leaking more than you've ever seen.

Leaning down to give it a kitten lick while looking him in the eye as his tries to grunt out a don't.

Your tongue barely swipes over the weeping slit and he cums, spurts and spurts of it onto your face, painting you so well and you still look so pretty covered in his spend that he thinks he could cum again.

But the second he's done the hot embarrassment burns up his throat, he wants to yell and chase you out.

Truthfully he thinks he wants to cry.

He forces himself to look at you, finds you shaking but not with laughter like he expects. Your eyes had hearts in them, totally armored by what's just happened as your damp panties are now soaked.

"Oh wow." It's breathy, soft and you look so drunk before you shove his still hard cock into your mouth, slurping up the cum that fell back onto himself and the action brings tears to Katsuki's eyes.

"O-Oi." He's groaning, trying to push you off of him as gently as he can, hips betraying him as they buck into the warmth of your mouth. You pop off when a whine forms in his throat. Looking at him, mix of spit and cum at the corner of your mouth and the globs that still decorate your face.

"Are you really that into me?" You smile and he nods, it makes you moan, fingers swiping over your clit furiously, "Oh Katsuki we're going to have so much fun tonight."

@kingkatsuki I know it's not a huge fic and just a drabble but I've mostly only seen you talk about quick cummin Suki and this idea wouldn't leave me alone so

[rboooks]

The Shadow Nation

Zuko will admit that his time as Fire Lord has been a rough adjustment. Many oppose his rise to power, scream for a more prolonged war, and still support Ozai over the banished prince turned tratior (In their eyes at least).

He has dealt with many assassination attempts throughout his two-year rule. Suki and her warriors were working nonstop to keep him safe, but even they couldn't be everywhere at once. So it came to no surpise that one managed to sneak through every now and then.

Ussually, Zuko is able to fight them off. What many people of the fire nation don't realize is that the stories of his bending and combat being weaker then his sister and father are in the past. He has plentely of front line combant experince, has re-shaped his whole fire bending tenchine and has even trained the Avatar.

Zuko, to this day, is much more deadly with his swords than with his flames. The fact his people consider none-bending as a none-threaten is a sadundervalue of his combat abilitiess. The assasins are always so suprise when they learned just how ready he is for them.

They spent the rest of their days in a prision cell, stweing in rage that the Fire Lord contuines to call back troops, return colines and some may say worst of all, welcome the Mixed Blood into the nation.

Mixed Blood are children who resulted from Fire Nation soldiers letting off some stress in conquered areas with other Nations. They were not seen as equals, for Fire stood above all, and those children were servents at best, dirty secerts at worse.

This was a notion that all four elements shared. They disagreed with intermingling with the wrong element. The Mixed were not welcomed anywhere, less if they shared Fire in their veins. There was some tolerance for Water and Earth mixing but only some and only in trading ports that were far out of sight. (Or the pleasure district where all the Mixed eventually ended up)

It saddens Aang; he claimed a hundred years ago that mixed was common, and it's another thing this wretched war ruined.

Mostly, it angered Zuko. He knew what it was like to be an unwanted child, knew the confusion, the anger, the pain of wondering why his birth was such a sin.

He met some mixed children while on the run from the Fire Nation - he suspected Jet was one of them, but he never dared voice his opinion. Being outed as mixed in some places was as good as a death sentence. Ba Sing Se was one of those places.

He decided that the if Fire Nation would heal everything they have done then they needed to make admends for such children. They needed to help them find love and a home. With the help of his friends, he sent out a world wide notice welcoming any Mixed Blood and promising a life where they did not need to hide who they were.

Zuko, will admit that this eagerness to welcome those children may have blinded him from how lowly his people saw the Mixed. His assassination attempts tripled since herds and herds of badly washed, weary eyes, and tired individuals started arriving in the fire nation.

It, apparently, didn't help that Cheif Hakoda did the same after much encouragement from Katara and Sokka. The Fire Nation for the past three generations grew up with nothing but tales on how they should never be like the rest of the world.

Agreeing to shelter Mixed like the Southern Water Tribe has many calling for a coup.

Zuko knew this. But he would not stop in his effort to right the many wrongs of his bloodline. He expected the assumptions, he expected the barely hidden insults of his advisors, he expected the resentment from some of his more patriotic people.

What he wasn't expecting was his people trying to rid of him using spirits.

Zuko doesn't know much about the spirits or the spirit world. Aang never really talked about his trips there, and Uncle would only warn him to respect the beings at all costs.

He knew enough to follow, honor them, give them prayers, and how to avoid them but nothing else. So he really isn't prepared for his latest assassin to be an old woman with a spirit trapped in a cursed pot.

Apparently, her family had sealed it away years ago, and in exchange for its freedom, the spirit is tasked with ridding the world of Fire Lord Zuko. The old hag waits until Aang, Uncle, and Sokka- who also surprisingly has some encounters with spirits- depart before attempting her plan.

She rushes into the Gand Courtroom, throwing her pot with a loud release spell on her lips. Zuko is in the middle of a peace summit, so his first instinct is to protect the visiting diplomatics, less the other Nations call war again.

The old woman is quickly taken down by the Kypshi warrior, but the deed is already over.

The pot shatters, and out bursts a blue burning flame that forms into a howling wolf. There are chains along the wolf neck, and no amount of thrashing can break them. The wolf looks up, straight into Zuko's eyes, ignoreing the swords and flames of his guards trying to protect him before it bows it head.

I'm sorry. It seems to say. This is the only way.

He leaps at Zukom by passing every attempt to stop it, before it digs it's teeth into the Fire Lord's neck. Everyone is left watching in horror as the young king screams in agony, blue flames licking all over his body as he truns to dust.

The wolf's chains shatter as the last of the ashes that were once the man who brought peace to the world fall. The old woman laughs, even though the wolf spirit now turns it rage filled eyes on her and her kin.

She did what she needed to do. The Fire Nation will rise.

She is unaware that her actions cause the Fire Nation to burn. The wolf spirit was the nation's original spirit of mercy, and her family was the ones responsible for sealing it away on the order of thelate Fire Lord Sozin.

She is unaware her ancestors were all but wiped out once they successfully put the wolf away, for fear that they would turn on the nation.

There is nothing more dangerous than a spirit that no longer holds mercy. The Fire Nation seems to vanish overnight. It breaks Avatar Aang's heart but world prepares for a second war. A war against the spirits.

But that is the fate of this timeline. Fire Lord Zuko would never know the fate of his people as he was sent far away by Mercy to fulfill another destiny.

It's the least the spirit can do for having to take his human life in part of a deal.

Zuko wakes to find the Blue Spirit Mask attached to his face, laying on his back in what could only be Fire Nation colonies within the Earth Kingdom.

His trusted duel swords tied to his back., his utterly black outfit with only hints of blue undertones, and the most startling feature of all, his now unscared skin.

Zuko has no idea what is going onas he studies his face in a river, tracing his smooth skin with a near-hysterical glee. He's never considered himself overly goodlooking, but for some reason his relection is pretty.

No, not pretty, gorgeous. Unnaturally so, as if he traded his humanity for features as perfect as these.

What in the world-

A scream breaks through the air. High pitch, laced with fear and sp obviously young, Zuko is donning his mask breaking into a sprint before he even process what he is doing.

He does not notice the small flickers of ember he leaves in his wake, multiple colors as his dragon flames, nor does he see that the speed he travels is impossible unless he, too, is an Airbender.

When he breaks through the treeline, he finds himself in a ruined camp. A crowd of Earth Kingdom soldiers surrounds two small children, who look no older than ten, while a third, probably twelve, is desperately trying to free himself from a large boulder that seems to have crushed his legs.

There is blood everywhere, and Zuko burns with rage.

"Mixed Blood isn't welcome here," A soldier spits, kicking the thrashing twelve-year-old. The gut-curling screams the poor thing releases don't seem to affect the soldiers besides a few taunting smirks.

"Spirits help us!" One of the smaller kids cries out and a near by soulder kicks her in the stomech.

"The spirits don't answer to the likes of-" His words are lost as blue flames overtake the small opening, placing a barrier between the children and the adults.

Zuko walks through the flames, a strange sense of calmness washing over him. Deep within, he knows that he will protect these children from the world and burn everything in his path that tries to stop him.

"A spirit," One of the soldiers gasps. "Why is a spirit here?!"

"You attacked children." Zuko's voice is his own but not. It sounds like it's coming from a deep cave, as if the echoing flickers in and out like a candle flame. Somehow, it sounds far worse than Aang whenever his past lives speak through him.

It would have chilled him to the bone if he was in the right state of mind.

"You attacked children." He repeats when he does not get the responses he wants from the soldiers. They are not groveling before the children in regret. They are not freeing the boy from his pain. They are not moving.

"These are not children. These are Mixed- abominations! We were only trying to Agggh No, please. Mercy! No no! Please," One of the soldiers starts, but his words are cut off by the blue flames that suddenly grab hold of him, shaping him into chains and dragging him into the shadows that have formed around Zuko.

Shadows that hold loud screaming voices all being for death for that would be a mercy.

His screams echo alongside the voices within Zuko's shadow as he tilts his head to the remaining soliders.

"You attacked children. Leave" He whispers and at once the screams stop, the shadows draw back into his own human shaped one and his flames blow out. The Earth Kingdom soldier remains on the floor, eyes seeingless, and skin blue.

Dead.

The rest of the Soldiers don't linger, rushing to leave the angry spirits sight. Zuko watches them leave from behind his mask wondering where such rage had come from. And why he felt numb to the life he just took. Why he felt so unhuman and not be bothered by the thought.

He reaches up to trace the Blue Spirit Mask, feeling dancing flames along his fignertips.

Well done. Our children are safe. A voice whispers in his mind. It's Zuko, but it's also not. It's something more.

He hears a small whimper that snaps his out of whatever hold the mask has over him snaps. He turns his attention to the three children. The two are trying to push the bolder off of the eldest, their features scream Fire Nation but their eyes and coloring belie their Earth Kingdom.

Zuko stride over, waves a hand and the rock butns to dust harmlessly. The younger children cower and the oldest is too daze with pain to do anything else but sob.

His legs are comepletly smashed.

The cold burning rage returns.

Our children. Heal them. Zuko hears, and he wonders if he's gone mad. It's his own voice, but it belongs to the Blue Spirit.

I can't. I'm not a waterbender. He tells it

We can. We heal with green flames. Heal. It insits

Zuko traces the jaw of his mask before he raises a hand and sure enough green flames lick his fingers. The children start to sob, but he heads their fear no mind as he brings the green fire down on the boy's broken body, willing it to warm, fix heal.

Bones, muscles and skin slowly repair one by one, taking whatever scars once decorated the child's skin and leaving smooth almost too perefect sking behind.

Once done the flames jump onto the other children, fixing the broken bones, the bruises and the many scars other less kind humans have given them.

The three gape up at the spirit who holds out a hand.

"Would you like to come live in my nation?"

"The spirit world?" One whispers wondering if they had not been rescued after all. If that had all pasted to the next world.

The spirit tilts its head before removing its mask and revealing a face so beautiful it could rival the stars and sun. "No, dear child. My nation. My name is Zuko."

A fifth nation is born. The Shadow Nation moves from place to place but can never be taken as the spirits themselves protect the civilians.

Not that Zuko realizes it. He's just trying to get back to the Fire Nation, and if he impulsively stops every time a child is in pain and said child follows behind him like a lost puppy, well, that's no one's business but his own.

The legend of the Blue Spirit, protector of all children, inspires so many before Avatar Aang is found in the Southern Water tribe three years later.

A fire wolf watches from a far and smiles.