#this was my safe space a few years ago and the people i met here will always have my heart

[pduwd]

feeling nostalgic today, I kinda miss being in here

[asuyaka]

Gojo-Sensei has a husband?!

★ - drabble s part of m' first Satoru oneshot !!૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

☆ - Gojo Satoru x Househusband! Reader

♡ - f m' manga readers, how we feelin' 'bout nurse kenny ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ (she's m wife m callin' it rn!!)

Gojo [Name], the loved and unknown husband of The Strongest, Gojo Satoru.

Satoru was at work, most likely teaching the first years he loved to talk about. You were at home. Cleaning the house and making preparations for dinner when Satoru got home like the good husband you were.

You brought out a chicken broth cube from the cupboard, brushing the slight dust on your pretty light-blue apron that Satoru brought for you (then ended up fucking you in but that's on days when you're being a brat).

Your eyes scan the countertop, looking for the knife holder until they land on a sage-green bag dusted with flowers that you hand-painted. It was Satoru's lunch bag that he had forgotten.

You weren't a sorcerer, but you're able to see curses. Ironically, that's how you and Satoru met. A younger you (who just got unemployed) was walking home when something you couldn't describe stopped you in the alleyway you took sometimes as a shortcut.

It was tall, with eyes running along its skinny, dark-red arm. You were only twenty-two at the time and have only ever seen things like that in shitty horror-flicks. You never thought they were real.

As if you were in a cliché love story, a patch of white hair stands in front of you. He has sunglasses on despite the sun being nowhere in sight.

Due to you being (obviously) weaker than the average sorcerer, Satoru always discouraged you from going to Jujutsu High unless it was an emergency.

You huff diligently, grabbing the lunch bag and putting your shoes on. You'll make sure Satoru gets his lunch. What kind of husband would you be if you didn't?

Turns out, the people at Jujutsu High are either scary or odd. There's absolutely no in-between.

You've only been at Jujutsu High a handful of times. More times than not, it was to help Megumi.

You make your way to the main school building, holding the bag close to your chest for safekeeping. You didn't bust your ass making cute shapes out of food just for Satoru to go eat fast food instead.

Reaching the door of Satoru's class, you knock softly. It’s quiet, and you guess Satoru must be out training with his students. You turned around to try and find just where the training grounds could be on this huge campus. 

All of a sudden, the door opens and there he is. Your beautiful husband, wearing his black blindfold and Jujutsu uniform. “Baby? What are you doing here?”

Baby. That’s right, you’re his baby. No one else's. “You left your lunch, so I…” Your voice trails off as you gesture toward the bag in your hands. Satoru smiles, opening the door wider and pulling you in.

He keeps your hands intertwined, softly pushing you against a chair. “You’re so nice, baby. Going out of your way to bring me my lunch?” His hands are on your cheeks now, still smiling sweetly even with a saccharine voice.

Your face flushes and your hands are stiff. You don’t know where his students are, but you’re sure they’ll be back soon. This is risky— irresponsible even. 

“Satoru, ‘s risky..” You mutter under your breath, your hands cupping his. They’re warm like they always are when you two are close. You wish you could see what his eyes looked like, but they’re for his comfortability, you’re aware.

“You know I love you, right baby?” He leans closer, to the point you can smell the cologne on him. It’s the one you bought him a few weeks ago because it smelt like home. 

Satoru smells like home.

Shakily you nod. “Are you sure this is safe…? I don’t want you—”

“Shh… let me worry about all that.”

And with that, he closes the space between your lips. Satoru’s strong– dominant even; and no matter what he does, it always manages to show through his actions.

His tongue breaches past your lips, slotting perfectly against yours. You can hear the clicking of teeth as Satoru sits across your lap. It’s hot and you can feel your cock start to rise in your pants. 

“Wore this cute fuckin’ apron all f’me–” He plants a kiss on your cheek, your face flushed and breathing heaved.

“Satoru– sir, I need—”

“But baby…” He whines.

He fucking whines.

His face is pouty and it looks like he’s getting off your lap. Is he denying you? You haven’t done anythin’ wrong– did he give you instructions and you didn’t see them?

“I’m at work, and as much as I want to fuck you ‘till you can’t think– you can’t have my students seein’ you all messed up like that, can you?”

Satoru’s words bring your attention to your appearance. Your apron is messed up and so is your hair (most likely from Satoru gripping on it). Your lips are slightly swollen and your cock is half-hard.

Embarrassment brings you back to your senses, your arms covering what's between your thighs. If you stood up, your apron would cover it (hopefully), but your pants weren’t going to do you any justice. “‘M sorry ‘toru…”

Satoru cocks his head, sitting on his desk and crossing his legs. “It’s okay baby, I know you just can’t help yourself when I’m around.” His tone sounds mean like he’s mocking you. It’s condescending.

“But that’s what makes you my good boy, isn’t it?” His foot brings the chair closer to the point where your body is sandwiched between his legs. “Always so plaint f’me to fuck you, right?”

God. You can’t do this, and it isn’t helping your slowly growing problem go down.

Satoru must sense your nervousness (he knows you and your emotions like the back of your hand) because his expression turns soft again. “Just wait till I get home, okay baby? Relax for me.”

His fingers caress your cheek gently. It’s lulling you, pulling you in. Like he’s a siren, and you’re a plaint, very easy sailor.

You nod because you’re his good boy and you want it to stay that way.

Satoru smiles before pulling you in again for a kiss.

It’s gentler this time. There’s less kiss and more gentleness behind it. It feels like the kiss you shared at the altar. It makes you calmer, it makes you happy.

All of a sudden, the door slams open. Revealing three, very surprised teenagers.

“Gojo-sensei!?”

“Gojo-san?”

Satoru breaks the kiss, briefly smiling coyly at you before looking at his students. “Hello, my favorite first-years! I didn’t know lunch had already ended…”

A boy with pink hair and what seems to be two sets of eyes stares at you, then back at Satoru. “Lunch ended five minutes ago. Nobara stayed to eat more watermelon.”

The girl, who is shorter than all of them and who you assume is Nobara, kicks the boy in the knee. “Shut it Yuuji! Not my fault somebody decided to eat all my food while I was gone!”

“Gojo-san, I thought you’d be at home.”Megumi looks at you with a confused expression. Your heart tugs in fondness when he says ‘home’ like all three of you share it together (legally, you do but Megumi would never admit that).

“Why would Gojo-sensei be at home? He has to teach us, stupid.” Nobara rolls her eyes, before pointing at you accusingly. 

“All I wanna know is why this random man and Gojo-sensei were kissing!”

Satoru steps off the desk, grabs your arm, and pulls you up as well. He slings his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning on you with a bright smile on his face. “Yuuji, Nobara, this is my husband, [Name]!”

“Husband?!” Yuuji and Nobara parrot, staring at each other before staring back at you. 

Nobara notices it first, the sleek ring on your finger. There’s an initial that she can’t make out but can only assume it’s the one that belongs to her teacher.

“Why would anyone date you?” She says suddenly, causing Yuuji to laugh.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “I thought that at first too. Gojo-san is too good for him.”

Satoru gasps. “Rude! You cried during our wedding, or do I have to ask [Name] to pull up the photos?”

“Wedding?! Why wasn’t I invited?” Nobara looks at Satoru like he committed a war crime. 

You don’t notice it, but somehow Yuuji is right in front of you. “Hello! I’m super glad Gojo-sensei has someone to love!! He’s always saying something about how he misses his ‘hubby’ randomly during class but we never thought he was being serious!”

You smile bashfully. You never thought Satoru would think of you during work, and for him to call you his “hubby”? 

Megumi stands beside him, handing you a book. “That’s because Gojo-sensei can’t shut up. They’re so lovey-dovey behind closed doors it makes me sick.”

Yuuji smiles. “That’s ‘cause they’re in love Megumi! Shouldn’t it be sweet that your dads love each other?”

Megumi frowns. “They aren’t my dads.”

“They totally are! You called Gojo-sensei dad one time during a mission, don’t think I’d ever forget that!” Nobara teases, holding Satoru’s ring in her other hand to presumably examine it.

Satoru claps his hands. “Okkayy! I appreciate that you two love my husband, not as much as me of course, but he’s got stuff to do! And we have to learn about the boring sorcerer families. Ew.”

His students groan but make their way to their seats. Satoru walks you to the door of the classroom, a small apologetic smile on his face. “I can’t walk you all the way to the door, Yaga would kill me, but I’ll see you at home?”

You nod with a soft smile on your face.

Satoru kisses you one last time. It’s more of a peck than anything, then leans into your ear. “Prep yourself for me before I get home okay? I have to reward you for being so good today.”

Blush rises up to your cheeks as you nod again. Pushing your hands down to your lap and turning away from his classroom door. The blush gets harder when you hear a loud “See you at home baby!” from the door.

Satoru watches you until he can’t anymore. A relieved sigh leaves his face as he closes the door and sits on his desk. Legs crossed and a ring adorning his finger, with your initials on them.

“Ask away, and I’ll show you any pictures you want.”

Yuuji and Nobara visibly light up and begin asking questions about where he met you, how long you’ve been together, and how long you’ve been married, plus the pictures of Megumi crying.

He shows them every photo and answers every question without hesitation.

After all, they’re all questions about you, his husband.

And he knows you’ll be home waiting for him with dinner, and dessert.

Your ass (that he loves to watch jiggle every time he fucks you), and ice cream.

He loves you, and he’s glad his students (and son) love you too.

[number1mingyustan]

-Cuffing Season-

His Friend

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader x boyfriendsbestfriend!jungkook

Warnings: established relationship, kissing, cursing, explicit smut, striptease, size kink, threesome, unprotected sex, protected sex, oral (f.+m.), gagging, fingering (f.), squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, a lot of sexual tension, mentions of a safe word, surprisingly healthy communication

Summary: (What SZA said)²

Word Count: 5.3k

_______________________________________________

(a/n: ive never written anything like this, it's not really my thing but before i was a carat, i was an army and i fear that will never change)

The city lights shine brightly outside. Beams of red, green, white, and occasional blue reflect from the buildings surrounding you. You don't pay it much mind, thoughts elsewhere as the rays of light zip past your line of sight.

The train is moving pretty fast, and the window in front of you isn't all that clean, making it difficult to pinpoint where the lights outside are coming from. It's where everyone must be, you figure, considering the car train is empty.

Mostly empty anyway.

The two men sitting in front of you are engaging in conversation without you. You're standing, hands gripping the silver pole beside you as a means of support. Your eyes shift between your boyfriend and his best friend as they laugh and talk.

The vehicle suddenly comes to a stop, brakes working at full force to let the passengers off from the other cars. The sudden shift causes you to lose your balance, stumbling over.

A pair of strong arms act fast, reaching out to hold you up in your drunken state.

"Be careful," Mingyu mumbles, pulling you in by your legs to hold you up. Your hands move from the silver pole to the hand holder above you as you step closer to your boyfriend.

"I am being careful," you furrow your brows.

"Sure you don't wanna sit?" Jungkook asks, looking at the space between him and Mingyu that you occupied only a few minutes ago.

"I'm fine," You protest, walking away from the two men in front of you and back to the pole in the middle of the train. You spin around it mindlessly, nearly losing your balance again and giggling to yourself.

Your mind is a bit hazy, high off of pure fun, and maybe one too many drinks. What started off as innocent fun has slowly segwayed into much more.

You're not entirely sure how you even ended up here.

See, Jungkook and Mingyu have been best friends for years. They met when they were teens and have been pretty much inseparable since. But as they grew older, their lives took them in different places.

Mingyu stayed closer to home, but Jungkook has a more adventurous spirit. He moved about an hour away into the city, and opened up his own tattoo shop.

Of all Mingyu's friends, Jungkook had to be your favorite.

Of course the two kept in contact with one another, but they didn't see each other as much because of the distance. With both of them working and Mingyu's job being so demanding, it had been months since they'd actually seen each other. There were time where their schedules aligned and plans could be made.

Like tonight, the two made plans in the city and you decided to tag along. You found somewhere in the middle, hopped on the train and spent the night out drinking and singing karaoke. The time flew and before you knew it, people started to go home and you realized it was time to head back.

But you guys hadn't seen Jungkook in so long and you were having such a good time, didn't really want the night to end. So you invited him back to your place for the night, making it obvious that you didn't want the fun to end. Matter of fact, it hadn't even really begun yet.

You scan over his features, noticing his facial expressions and body language. You can tell something is weighing on his mind. He pulls at the piercing on his bottom lip with his teeth and his leg hasn't stopped bouncing.

You all know what's going to happen tonight. There's been a thick tension brewing the entire night and you've all silently agreed to it. You wonder if he's having second thoughts already.

"Something on your mind, Kook?" You ask softly, walking over to the tattooed man.

He lifts his head up, meeting your half-lidded eyes. You take in his features, roaming over the piercings littering his ears, lip, and eyebrow. His hair has gotten longer too, forming into light waves. He looks good.

He blinks at you, blush creeping up his cheeks and nose. The drinks he had earlier already had him flushed, but now you're the one causing it.

"All good, Shorty," Jungkook flashes you a grin.

You return it, lips pulling upward at the sound of the nickname. He's always used it with you, understandably so. You were much shorter than the two men before you, and even Mingyu towered over Jungkook.

You pat his head lightly, running your fingers through his soft hair. "Okay."

He watches as you make your way back to the pole, spinning around it playfully. The skirt you have on is entirely too short, and it's doing a poor job of covering you as your body rotates around the pole.

Jungkook's leg bounces faster and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. Fuck.

The train comes to another stop moments later and you lock eyes with Mingyu. He stands to his feet, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"C'mon Kook, it's our stop."

___________________

It's been a while since Jungkook stepped foot in this apartment. You've decorated it nicely, surely it was your doing and your doing only. Mingyu's never had a creative eye. There's pictures of the two of you scattered across the space and Jungkook can't help but feel like he's intruding.

It's a fleeting thought though, he doesn't dwell on it. He buries it deep inside, beneath the alcohol pumping in his veins, clouding his thoughts and filling it with the desire brewing in his cock. Jeon Jungkook is not a man who lives a life of regrets.

He averts his gaze from the pictures, following you into the bedroom. You take off your black leather jacket and hang it up. "You can have a seat," You tell him.

He sits down on your bed, facing you. Like a man, his long legs take up most of the space as he sits wide.

"You want something to drink?" You ask, leaning against the door frame.

Jungkook nods. "Something strong."

You raise an eyebrow. "Having second thoughts already?"

"Never, Shorty," He grins.

He eyes you shamelessly. You've ditched your jacket, exposing the little black croptop you had on. He's seeing now that you decided to go braless, perked nipples peaking through the material of your short. You're not wearing your boots anymore either, removing the extra height you had earlier and placing you directly in his line of sight. His eyes are clouded with lust, scanning over your frame as he nibbles on the piercing on his lower lip.

Just as you turn to walk out of the room, Mingyu's body appears, blocking you from fully exiting.

"Sit down, sweetheart," Mingyu nods his head toward the bed.

"I'm serving our guest," You cock your head to the side defiantly.

Mingyu towers over you and his eyes grow intimidating. He narrows his eyes, erasing every hint of amusement in his expression. Goosebumps rise up along your skin and your body shivers.

"Don't need your drunk ass dropping any glasses, I'll get it," He says, holding you by the shoulders. He turns you around and disappears to another part of the house.

Almost immediately, you're sitting down on the bed. You're obedient, Jungkook takes a mental note.

MIngyu comes back a few moments later holding two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills up both the glasses and hands one to Jungkook, keeping the other for himself.

You frown. "Gyu."

Mingyu takes a sip, allowing the brown liquor to leave a satisfying burn in his throat. "Hmm?"

"Did you consider that I might have wanted a glass?" You huff.

"Don't throw a tantrum in front of our guest," Mingyu says, extending his glass to you. "You don't even like whiskey."

He's right, but it doesn't stop you from taking the glass out of his hand and taking a sip for yourself. It goes down smoothly, but leaves an ache in your throat and a bad taste on your tongue.

Mingyu takes the glass back and takes another sip for himself. "Kook," Mingyu says.

The tatted man averts his attention to your boyfriend. "Ground rules."

"No hickeys, she's still my girl and I don't want you leaving any marks," Mingyu says.

Jungkook nods. "Okay."

"Can't cum inside, or on her face, shit's disrespectful. You can be rough, but not too rough. No hitting or anything like that.," Mingyu continues.

You can't help but sit there smiling to yourself. The lisp in your boyfriend's

"I wouldn't do that to your girl, Gyu." Jungkook interjects.

"I know, but I just wanna make it clear. I trust you, but I gotta make sure she's safe and comfortable. Pretty much anything else is fine if she doesn't have any problems."

"You got any problems?" Jungkook inquires.

"As long as she's okay with it, I'm okay with it. Just listen to her. Slow down if she needs to slow down, and stop if she says stop. She's submissive, but she's in control no matter what.

He looks at you. "If it's too much, you say something. Use your safeword. What's your safe word, gorgeous?"

"Mango."

Mingyu nods. "Good. You heard that, Kook?"

Jungkook shifts on the bed, visibly growing more comfortable in your presence. "Loud and clear."

"This isn't something I'd normally do, but we're all a little drunk and Kook, I trust you with my life. Y/n and I have talked about it before, so don't make me regret it."

Oh? You guys have been planning this? Jungkook thinks to himself. He knew you were comfortable around him and he's heard in great detail from Mingyu about your very active sex life. But to think you'd actually discussed this? He's kind of flattered.

"Never," Jungkook blinks. "I'll be careful."

Mingyu sits down on the bed, large body dipping into the mattress as he makes himself comfortable. He takes another sip from his glass and his gaze doesn't leave you. "Go ahead, Sweetheart."

You stand before them both, in a similar position to how you were on the train. Smirking, you bend over and pull your black miniskirt off before tossing it. You now stand in just your black lace thong and your shirt.

Both men watch you in a trance. It stirs a feeling of boldness in you, having their attention like this. Confidence pumps through your veins as your hands dance over the fabric of your top. You pull it off slowly and toss it onto the ground.

You stand in front of them wearing nothing but your lacy black thongs. Both of them are silent, eyes locked in on you and only you. Mingyu's seen this view plenty of times, but in this moment he's seeing you through Jungkook's eyes. Like it's his first time and he can't look away.

There's just something about you.

You leave a little to the imagination, climbing onto the bed without stripping yourself bare. Your knee dips into the mattress and you wedge yourself between the two men.

You lean your head in toward Jungkook, pressing your nose against his. He lets out a ragged breath as the tension in the room expands. You lick your lips slowly before removing the gap separating you.

Jungkook's kisses are different. They're slower, but by no means hesitant. He kisses you like he cherishes you, doesn't want it to be a fleeting moment. He takes his time, appreciating the way you taste and the way you feel. Smart man, knowing this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his. He leans in again, but you back away just enough that your lips don’t collide. He lets out a shaky breath, chewing on his pierced lower lip.

You tug on his shirt, “Take this off for me.”

You climb off Jungkook’s lap and onto Mingyu’s. You cup his cheek, leaning in and kissing him softly. He leans into your touch, kissing you back with desperation.

Mingyu... Mingyu kisses like like he's got no time left, yet it feels like all the time in the world. It's ironic almost, because he's sure he's going to spend the rest of his life with you. But he's impatient, desperate even, in the way he touches you and presses his lips against yours. But everything about him is so familiar, you always find yourself falling deep into him. His kisses are consuming, much like everything about him. Makes you feel like you're floating, and 30 seconds feels like an eternity.

You moan against his lips, placing a firm hand on his chest as your lips move against one another with haste. You feel one of his hands grip your ass and decide to pull away. You move his hand onto his own lap.

You lean back, leaving your boyfriend breathless and aching for your touch. You shift your gaze back to a now shirtless Jungkook. His tattoos are on full display, decorating his muscular body. The ink of his sleeve is nearly full, trailing all the way down to his fingers.

You climb off Mingyu’s lap, leaning in toward Jungkook. His gaze is intense, hazy as his eyes shift between your lips and your eyes.

“Kook,” You breathe out. “I wanna suck your cock.”

Jungkook’s mind feels hazy. The concept of you is messing with his mind. You’re submissive, but you know what you want and you’re not afraid of vocalizing it.

He holds his glass in his hand, swiftly bringing it to his lips and downing the leftover contents in the transparent dish. He sets the now-empty glass down on the nightstand.

Honest, he’s never looked at you this way before. He’s never had these kinds of thoughts about you. You were gorgeous and had a nice body, but anyone could see that. It was undeniable.

But he never actually had thoughts of you. As long as he’d known you, you were Mingyu’s girl. His best friend’s girlfriend, not the girl he’d ever imagine asking to suck his dick.

But who was he to deny you?

He licks his lips, giving you a small nod. You adjust your body, laying flat on your back. Jungkook stands over the edge of the bed, towering over your small frame.

He undoes his jeans, pulling them down with his underwear. His cock is already half hard, finally free from the material restraining it. You lick your lips slowly, waiting in anticipation.

His initial movements are slow, stroking his cock and dragging the tip along your lips. He teases you a bit, making sure you're comfortable before tapping his cock against your lips, signaling you to open your mouth.

You oblige, allowing your mouth to fall open and letting the tattooed man feel the warm slide of your inner cheeks, satisfying his newfound desire for you.

He exhibits great patience, taking his time to test your waters as he fills your mouth little by little. The weight of his cock on your tongue stirs a warm feeling in your belly.

"That's it," Jungkook groans, murmuring under his breath. There's a rasp in his voice that you've never heard before and it has you pressing your thighs together.

Of course your boyfriend could never be forgotten, finding solace between your legs. He pries open your legs, pressing them down on the bed as he pushes your panties to the side. There's a look of mischief written on his face as he disappears between your thighs. He immediately latches his pretty lips onto your clit, licking and sucking on your sensitive bud.

You nearly choke, letting out a moan around Jungkook's length. The warmth of Mingyu's tongue is driving you mad, causing your toes to curl up as you squirm on the bed.

One of your had entangles into Mingyu's hair, gripping and pulling at the lose strands. Mingyu grunts, sucking harsher on your clit and making you feel dizzy as you coat his face with your arousal.

Jungkook begins thrusting his cock down your throat, starting slow and building up to a steady pace.

Your mind feels hazy. There's so much going on, your brain can't keep up with everything that's happening with your body. Your eyes roll back and you gag around Jungkook's cock. He pulls out immediately, causing you to whine.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks.

You nod eagerly. "Don't stop."

He's taken back, but obliges nonetheless. He slides his cock back into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as he watches the bulge appear in your throat. He finds his pace again, pressing the tip of his cock against the back of your throat with each thrust.

Mingyu slips a finger into you and you moan against Jungkook's length. You're soaking your boyfriend's finger, making it easier for him to slip in another, curling them and fucking them in and out of your tight cunt. He stretches you open, fingers moving at a fast pace that has you struggling to keep up.

You're careful not to use your teeth, remaining conscious and hyper-aware of the tatted man above you. Saliva pools in the back of your throat, and your other hand starts stroking the tatted man's length.

Your cunt squelches as it stretches around your boyfriend's fingers. Your hips move on their own, thrusting into his fingers and meeting his pace. He continues to suck down on your clit, groaning against your wet cunt and sending sensations traveling through your body.

You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. Mingyu can sense this, so he starts pumping his fingers into you faster and harder, curling them against the sweet spot that has your legs shaking in moments.

The pressure is building fast and you have to pull away. You move your head, and Jungkook's cock slips out of your mouth. You continue stroking him lazily, but your orgasm interrupts your mind and body.

"Oh fuck-" You cry out.

Your legs wrap around your boyfriend's head, nearly suffocating him as you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips grind against his tongue, moving frantically and quickly as the pleasure overwhelms you.

Your legs are shakily and your high-pitched moans echo through the room. Jungkook watches the view below him, forever etching it into his mind.

You ride out your high on your boyfriend's face, tugging harshly at his hair to pry him off once you come down. He lifts his head up, licking his lips as he stares at you with hazy eyes.

Your body falls limp on the bed. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as your fingertips tingle and you begin to fully tap back into your senses.

The room feels suffocatingly hot and your body trembles. The sheer intensity already has you tired, but your brain is screaming moremoremore. Your cunt throbs and aches, need to be filled–gotta be stuffed full.

"Need a break?" Mingyu asks.

You sit up, shaking your head. You slide the last bit of material covering your body off and look him in the eyes. “The opposite."

Your boyfriend smirks. "There's my girl, always insatiable."

You lean in, minimizing the gap between you and your boyfriend. "Feel so empty..."

Mingyu licks his lips. "Think I'm gonna let Kook fuck you first, okay sweetheart? I know that's what you want."

You nod eagerly in agreement.

"How do you want it?"

"I want-"

"Tell him, not me baby," Mingyu cuts you off.

Your body stiffens and you turn to meet Jungkook's hungry gaze. You bat your eyelashes at him. "From behind, fuck me from behind Koo.."

Jungkook doesn't need any more of an invitation. The tatted man reaches into the pocket of his discarded pants and pulls out his wallet. There's a shiny gold packet wedged between his two fingers. Naturally, he tears it open with his teeth and rolls the latex onto his length. He comes up behind you, pressing your back down so you're on all fours.

You feel the tip of his cock pressed against your folds. You're absolutely soaked, making him slide in easier than he thought he would, He planned to tease you a big, but your cunt invited him in so easily.

"That's it Shorty, let me in," Jungkook whispers.

You whine, gripping the bed sheets as he pushes his cock into you. He fills you up slowly, making you feel every inch of him. The stretch of his cock is delightful, filling up your lower tummy with a familiar warmth.

"Oh my g-" You whisper to yourself, voice muffled as you bury your head into the pillow.

"You're taking it so well baby, so good," Mingyu praises.

Your boyfriend's large body appears before you. His muscles are toned, stature stands above you almost intimidatingly.

"You're doing so good sweetheart, can you handle me too?" Mingyu asks.

You nod eagerly. Your back arches and you lift one hand to guide Mingyu's cock into your mouth. You moan around his length, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Jungkook finds a steady pace, ramming his cock into you from behind. The pleasure fills your body as he stretches your cunt. He slips in and out easily as your arousal drips on his cock.

The force of his thrusts make it easier for your boyfriend's cock to touch the back of your throat. Mingyu holds the top of your head lightly, guiding your mouth to maintain control and make sure it's not too rough.

You try to focus on your boyfriend, but the force of Jungkook's cock fucking you open makes it hard. You take a break, lazily stroking Mingyu's cock as you moan out.

You can feel the tension building between your thighs. Jungkook's cock is distracting, making it hard to do anything but moan and babble over the sheer pleasure.

"Please..." You beg. "Fuck–I"

He thrusts his cock deep into you, tip nudging against the sweet spot deep inside of you. The tension builds and you hardly have time for a warning. Your body is instantly overwhelmed and you completely lose control.

"Holy fuck..." Jungkook breathes out in disbelief.

You're cumming so hard you don't even realize the rush of liquid leaving your body. Your mind goes blank and your vision fills with dots, sinful moans, and screams echoing throughout your home. Your entire body trembles as you squirt all over your boyfriend's best friend.

The squeeze of your cunt forces him out and you gush all over the bed. He's quick to fill you again, fucking you through your orgasm. Jungkook buries himself deep in your walls, allowing the tightness of your cunt to pull his own orgasm out of him. It hits him fast, but the blissful feeling drags out for seemingly an eternity.

He groans, filling the condom with his load. It's filthy and overwhelming and you love it. Your entire body trembles and Jungkook pulls out once your grip has loosened. He lay on your back against the mattress.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily, lungs desperate for air after experiencing his high. He climbs off the bed, disposing of the condom.

There are no words that can be said in this moment. It feels like forever before your eyes blink open and your vision clears. You look up, seeing your boyfriend's flushed face.

Mingyu looks down at you, hair falling over his face perfectly. His broad shoulders hover over you, making you feel even smaller under his gaze. "You good, baby?"

You whine, nodding.

He kisses your shoulder. "I'm gonna take such good care of you."

Your stomach does backflips at the sound of his promise.

Your boyfriend is all-consuming once again. His presence alone never fails to overwhelm you. Heat flows through your entire body as he fills you up. The familiar stretch has you trembling and squirming on the bed.

"Fuck!" You cry out.

Your entire body spasms, arms flailing as you desperately try to find something to hold onto. You can't keep still, nearly pushing Mingyu out.

A pair of large arms suddenly pins you down, holding you in place. You whimper.

"Hey..." Jungkook coos. "Where are you going, Shorty? Hmm?"

Unlike Jungkook, Mingyu has no interest in teasing. He's been on edge all night, since the moment you put on the damn skirt before you'd even left to go out.

It's almost cruel, how quickly he finds his pace, plowing his cock into you hard. It hurts, cunt sensitive from being used all night like this. But the pain is so good, it's almost addictive. It'll catch up to you later, but your body aches for more.

Jungkook's breath is hot against your skin, gentle hands applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you in place. His thumb draws small circles on the palm of your hand as he holds you. It deeply contrasts the sensations of your boyfriend's ruthless fucking.

"Shit.." Mingyu groans.

He can't stop himself, fucking his cock deeper into you with every thrust. The burn is so satisfying, fulfilling your every need and more. You wrap your legs around him, forcing his cock deeper into you.

And with that, you're squirting again. Another rush of cum leaves your body, soaking your boyfriend's lower half. He pulls out momentarily to let it happen, but he fills you back up in no time.

He lets you fully ride out your orgasm on his cock. Your sensitive inner walls tighten and spasm around him as he bullies his cock against your g-spot. He sinks deep into your aching cunt, relishing in the tight squeeze around his cock that soon drives him into his own orgasm.

You sob out in relief when the tension in your stomach is eased. A warm buzz flows down your thighs and your legs shake. The pleasure is so overwhelming you feel lightheaded.

Your mind is so clear, relishing in the pleasure of it all. Mingyu's deep groans bring you back into your senses, allowing you to feel the way he fills you with his load.

Your boyfriend pulls out, mind hazy as some of his cum drips out of you. You lay there on the bed, body completely spent. Your cunt is swollen and throbbing from the absence of touch.

Both of the larger men crowd around your exhausted body, ensuring that you're okay. You let them know honestly that you're fine and they help to clean you up and redress you and themselves in comfortable clothes for the night.

They change the sheets, discarding the ones you so shamelessly soaked. Not many words are exchanged, but a comfortable quiet falls over the room.

You sleep in the middle of the large bed, sandwiched between the two men comfortably.

___________

You're the second to wake up. When your eyes flutter open, your left side is empty. You look to your right, seeing your boyfriend sleeping peacefully.

Your head is pounding from the hangover and there's a soreness between your thighs. You look around, seeing Jungkook is standing on the balcony outside your bedroom.

You climb out of bed and open the screen door, coming up behind the tatted man.

"Morning," He says first.

Jungkook stands over the banister with his arms crossed, tattoos on full display with a cigarette wedged between his pointer and middle finger.

"Morning," You greet him back.

You walk over to him, standing by his side. "Cigarettes for breakfast? You know there's food in the kitchen."

The tatted man grins. "I know, bad habit of mine."

He takes a long drag of it, and allows the smoke to pass between his flushed lips. You take the cigarette out of his hand and inhale. "Can't say I'm much better than you though."

He chuckles. "Gyu told me you quit."

You shrug. "Mostly. He doesn't like it, so I don't really smoke around him. Only something I really do when I've got something on mind." You look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"

You hold your hand out, extending the cigarette back to him. He takes it back and sighs.

"I don't know Shorty, think I might be ready to settle down," Jungkook confesses, taking another drag of his cigarette.

You bump your hip against his playfully. "The Jeon Jungkook? What's gotten into you? I fucked some sense into you?"

Jungkook's jaw slacks open. He lets out a genuine laugh at your comment. "Kind of, Shorty. I'm not gonna lie."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook has always been free-spirited. Never really committed to women, always just there for the ride. It was by no means a bad lifestyle, at least the way he went about it. He wasn't the type to hop from bed to bed each night, it was more of an occasional thing. But by no means did he seem to ever want anything real with anyone. For Jungkook everything always seemed so.. temporary.

He'd been in serious relationships before, his longest one lasted nearly 3 years. But even then, he wasn't really fulfilled, never felt satisfied.

Nothing ever felt permanent.

He nods, taking another drag. He hands it to you and exhales. "Last night was pretty fucking crazy I can't lie. But here we are cracking jokes and sharing a cig like it was nothing."

You take a hit, leaning your back against the banister.

"Mingyu's in there asleep without so much as a worry on his mind cuz he trusts you, you know? Like we can keep things cool between us and he doesn't doubt that cuz he's got genuine love and trust. I don't think I've ever felt that way with someone in my life, not enough to do some shit like last night."

You hum in agreement and hand the cigarette back to him.

"I guess I just realized it's actually kind of admirable, more than it is crazy. Got me thinking I can find my own girl I trust and love that much, you know?"

He takes another drag, inhaling and blowing the smoke out of his mouth. He hands it back to you.

"Gotcha, you wanna find a girl just so you can have threesomes with her and her friends," You joke.

Jungkook chuckles, hitting your shoulder playfully. "C'mon Shorty, don't twist my words."

"I'm just fucking with you," you giggle. "But in all seriousness, I get it though. I never imagined doing something like that either, but I know he's the only person I'd be willing to do it with. It's a rare thing in this world, glad I got lucky." You exhale and hand him back the cigarette. "I think you will too."

"Can only hope," Jungkook breathes out.

"You will Kook, just gotta take things seriously," You cock your head to the side and grin. "And when you do, and you marry her, I'm gonna tell Mingyu to mention last night in his best man speech."

Jungkook snorts. "You two are definitely getting married before me, c'mon now. During my best man's speech, I'll sure as hell tell the story and let everyone know you're a squirter."

You punch his tatted arm playfully. "You're the worst!"

"You started it!" Jungkook grins.

"Fair enough," You smile.

"Can't lie it's kind of a great story to tell. You took it like a champ," Jungkook comments.

"My entire family will be at my wedding, don't even think about it," You laugh. "I'm sure they won't appreciate hearing how I quote, 'took it like a champ."

"Fair enough," He grins.

It falls quiet again as the two of you smoke the rest of the cigarette. When it's done, Jungkook kills it on the floor of the balcony. You kick it off to eliminate the evidence.

"C'mon, Mingyu's gonna be up soon and I'm hungry."

You lead Jungkook back into the bedroom, greeting your sleepy boyfriend with a bombard of pillows.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[natalievoncatte]

There was something inherently unnerving in Superman staring at her, Lena decided. She could *feel* the weight of his gaze on her. If she hadn’t know better, she would have thought that he was trying to steal glances at her. Of course, there was the matter of Lois Lane and all that, and Lena was assuredly not his type. She was, after all, a Luthor.

But he kept staring.

Lena listened to the mission briefing, feeling a bit detached. Her work here was done; she’d worked out the math and it was up to Kara and her cousin to push the asteroid just so, to return it to its proper orbit and send it on its merry way.

It was routine, if two people with godlike powers pushing millions of tons of rock through space could be said to be normal.

There was only one problem.

Clark.

Kept.

Staring.

Lena looked away from him, then slipped out of the room, looking up at the sky. She could see the offending space rock just barely, and extended her arm, covering it with her thumb, one eye pinched shut.

“Hey.”

Kara was in the doorway, not quite emerging onto the balcony. She’d suited up in her space suit, a new design of Lena’s that outfitted her in a stark white with a glowing amber light behind the red-gold frame of her family crest. Lena was proud of her work. It carried a sufficient air supply and was shielded against radiation, just on the off chance they Kara met something up there that bypassed her immunities.

Kara had her helmet tucked under one arm and her hair up on a tight bun, and she looked absolutely dashing. Lena couldn’t help but grin like a big kid, as worried as she was.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” said Lena. “You look good in that.”

“Of course I do, you made it,” said Kara.

She broke across the balcony in three quick strides, and from the way she canted her head, Lena thought it might finally happen. She might crack that last barrier and press her soft lips to Lena’s, stealing some luck to take with her, and stealing Lena’s breath away.

Kara had stolen her heart years ago.

She didn’t, though. Rather than a hug, she ducked down and brushed her forehead lightly against Lena’s, before quickly pulling back.

“Come right back,” said Lena.

“You know it,” said Kara. “Want me to bring you something from my trip?”

“Just come back safe.”

Kara grinned her cocky grin and offered Lena a little salute.

“It’s time,” Clark said, from the doorway. Lena hadn’t even noticed his presence.

He was staring at both of them, now. Lena turned away. The pair stepped back inside, Clark speaking to Kara in clipped, rapid Kryptonese. Lena couldn’t parse it quickly enough, but she made out something about scents.

The mission was not routine.

Lena’s work was perfect. The data was not. Lena white knuckled the railing in her hands as the asteroid drifted down, skimming the Earth’s atmosphere and carving out a channel of unbound flame.

Alex was frantically demanding a status update, but neither Kryptonian answered her. There was only static. Lena watched the control room monitors, and her hands felt as cold as the steel they grasped. She felt utterly numb, on the verge of screaming.

Then the speakers crackled. It was Kara.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara rasped out. “I made a mess of your suit.”

They landed a few minutes later. Kara was the worse for wear, with some of the reinforced plating melted off on her left side. She spun a harrowing tale of struggling to correct the rock’s course, Clark nodding along silently beside her. Lena locked eyes with Kara and let out a slow, agonized breath. She was okay. She was okay this time.

She’d always be okay. Right up until she wasn’t.

After, when Kara had been pried out of her suit, with her cousin’s help, and changed into a hoodie and leggings, she attacked the buffet that was laid out for the two of them in the cafeteria. Shoving around celestial bodies in as hungry work.

When Lena turned and saw Superman staring at her again, she decided she’d had enough and squared up to him.

“Okay, farmboy. Out with it. Why do you keep staring at me?”

“I was waiting for Kara to say something,” he said, “but I guess she’s too shy or she’s worried about what I’ll think. It’s okay with me if you two are together. I don’t hold your name against you.”

Lena’s brain about leaked out of her ears.

“Together?”

“Of course. I noticed earlier that her heartbeat synchronizes to yours whenever you’re in the room, and of course she’s been scent marking you.”

“She’s been what?”

Clark shifted on his feet, either from her tone or her expression or both. He looked strangely young.

“Oh, uh, I see. Anyway I need to get going, long flight back to Metropolis.”

Lena barely noticed him leaving. She stood in the same spot far too long, staring at the refrigerator. She was still standing there when Kara came up alongside her.

“Hey.”

Of course, she was devastating. Kara was in black leggings and a threadbare hoodie that was actually Lena’s, and padding around the place barefoot. Her golden tresses spilled around her shoulders in loose waves, held back by her glasses. The dashing bravado was gone and she was soft, warm, equally lovely Kara again.

“You scared me up there,” said Lena.

“You kept me safe with your suit. You always do.”

Lena looked Kara in the eye. Kara had the most lovely eyes, a gorgeous deep blue that could be as heavy as winter storm or as light as a summer breeze

“I heard what Clark said.”

Lena swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

“He caught me red handed,” Kara added.

Lena wondered if she should laugh it off, or make a joke. Kara smiled, pulling her gaze away in a slightly embarrassed way, her cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“Does Kryptonian scent marking mean what I’m guessing it means?”

“It, um, it does.”

“This is how humans do it,” Lena whispered, diving headlong into Kara’s space.

She ducked just a little, tilting her head back, and Kara read her intentions perfectly. Their lips came together, and their first kiss was quick and soft, a promise for later, when there would be only fairy lights and Kara’s couch and soft, eager explorations full of slow, desperate intensity.

For now, Kara simply took Lena’s hands in her own, and very gently nuzzled her nose against Lena’s, breath ticking her lips.

“Take me home, space cowgirl,” said Lena.

[ttshihiro]

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 9✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fuff, Angst

Word Count: 8800

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

He met your gaze, a mixture of regret and understanding in his eyes. “Guess I left you with more than a few bruises that didn’t heal so easy”. His voice was quiet, and for once, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual bravado. “I know I… wasn’t around to help pick up the pieces”.

You looked down, tracing the edge of your wine glass with your finger, the years of hurt and healing flashing through your mind. “I tried to let it go, you know? Tried to be… okay”. You took a breath, steadying yourself. “But it’s hard when you can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing. Like you’re trying to move on, but there’s always this empty space that just… doesn’t go away”.

Dean opened his mouth, the words forming on his lips, but you gently raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak. “It’s not your fault, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady but threaded with the honesty you’d held back for so long. “Eight years ago, you were upfront with me. You never promised me forever; I knew what I was getting into with you”.

You looked down again. “I just… I guess I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d feel enough to come back. That one day, you’d walk back through that door on your own”.

Dean’s face fell, the weight of your words pressing down on him, and he took a shaky breath, the flicker of guilt and sorrow unmistakable in his eyes. “I thought about it… about coming back”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “More times than you could imagine. But every time, I told myself you deserved better than a guy who could only give you bits and pieces. I didn’t want to hold you back from having… everything”.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, a mixture of tenderness and hurt in your expression. “Everything, Dean?”, You let out a soft, sad chuckle. “What’s everything without the person you can’t stop thinking about?”.

The vulnerability in your voice broke something in him, and he reached across the table, his hand finding yours, his touch warm and grounding. His thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, grounding you both. “I was scared”, he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Scared I couldn’t be what you needed… that I’d mess up something real and leave you worse off”. He hesitated, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “But not a day went by when I didn’t regret it. Not one”.

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that held years of unspoken words and hidden fears. “I wanted you to have… kids”, he began, his voice rough, each word a struggle, as if saying it out loud made it hurt more. “That house we always talked about, a life, (Y/N). Not this”. He gestured vaguely, encompassing everything that his life had become—the dangerous hunts, the constant running, the never-ending fight against things that most people only read about in horror novels.

He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s not just ghosts and werewolves, sweetheart”, he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet urgency. “It’s demons, things darker and… worse than I could ever explain. And you don’t belong on that path. I can’t stand the thought of you living in fear—sleeping in dirty motels, wondering if you’re going to wake up the next morning, or if some creature’s going to turn up and…”. He trailed off, shaking his head, his eyes brimming with something raw and unshielded.

“I want you to have peace”, he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “To feel safe, to have that family, to go to sleep at night knowing you’re going to wake up safe in the morning. I want you to have a life that’s… beautiful, and not shadowed by the things I can’t escape”.

You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet, profound ache behind every syllable. Dean had left, not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved you too much to drag you into his world. The realization washed over you like a wave, the years of wondering and hurting suddenly making a different kind of sense.

“But Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, “that life… it doesn’t mean much if you’re not there”. You reached up, your hand brushing gently along his jaw, grounding him in your touch, your voice thick with emotion. “I get what you wanted for me, but… all I wanted was you”.

Dean looked away, his jaw clenching as he wrestled with the emotions your words stirred up. You could see it—the conflict, the regret, the deep-seated belief that he was doing what was best for you, no matter how much it tore him apart.

“(Y/N)”, he murmured, his voice thick, each word weighed down with guilt and sorrow. “You don’t understand… you deserve so much more than what I can give you. My life, it’s… it’s a war zone. I’ve seen things, been through things I’d never want you to know about”. His voice broke slightly, and he took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay. But wanting isn’t the same as doing right by you”.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gesture that felt as comforting as it was heartbreaking. “If I stay… you’ll never be free. You’d be tied to a life that would keep you looking over your shoulder, wondering if I’ll come back each time I leave. And you’d see me—”. He hesitated, his voice filled with a quiet self-loathing that nearly undid you. “You’d see me worn down, one hunt after another, one scar after the next. I can’t do that to you”.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to look away, to let him turn this into a goodbye. “But, Dean… I don’t care about any of that”, you said, your voice thick with the love you’d held onto for so long. “You’re not just some guy who comes and goes—you’re… you’re the one person I never stopped loving. I don’t care about the scars, the hunts, the danger. I care about you. And if you think you’re sparing me from something by leaving, you’re wrong”.

He shook his head, a pained smile flickering across his face. “(Y/N), this life… it breaks you. It’s broken me. And you—you’re strong and good, and I don’t want to be the thing that takes that from you”.

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Dean”, you whispered, your voice firm even as it trembled. “You don’t get to choose what I’m willing to face, who I’m willing to love. That’s mine, and I’m choosing you. I’ve always chosen you”.

Dean’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as though the fight had finally left him, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his own feelings. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with a raw vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

“Do you know how many times I thought about coming back?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he were confessing a sin. “Every time I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d be strong enough to keep you safe. That we could have that life. But then I’d see… the things I had to do, the people I couldn’t save, and I’d talk myself out of it. I kept telling myself that letting you go was the only way I could protect you”.

Your eyes glistened, a mixture of frustration and heartbreak surfacing after years of keeping it buried. The words escaped before you could rein them in, soft but edged with a quiet, fierce pain. “Nothing… nothing could feel worse than waiting eight damn years, Dean. Eight years for that one guy who took my heart with him when he left”.

Dean’s gaze dropped, the weight of your words settling over him, his own pain evident in the tight line of his jaw, the way he ran a hand through his hair as if trying to find a way to fix what had broken. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, the words clearly failing him. He looked at you as if seeing the hurt he’d caused in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before, the reality of it hitting him with a force he couldn’t ignore.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, carrying the weight of every year you’d spent trying to move forward yet feeling anchored to a part of your life that hadn’t let you go. “Look where I am, Dean”, you murmured, the words trembling with a quiet vulnerability. “I don’t care about my stupid bookstore, or the dress hanging in my closet that I’ll never wear… every step, every plan, every single moment, I kept wondering… what if Dean was by my side?”.

Your voice gained a quiet, trembling strength, the years of suppressed pain and longing spilling over. “I’m anything but happy, Dean”, you whispered, your voice growing more resolute with each word. “Anything but at peace. Every single day, it feels like I’m just… existing, going through the motions, trying to build a life that doesn’t feel real without you in it”.

Dean’s expression twisted with a mix of frustration and anguish, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back the emotions surging within him. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, his voice sharp, edged with pain. “But you’re alive, dammit. You’re here, safe, in one piece. That’s what I wanted for you, even if it meant…”. His voice cracked, but he pushed on, “even if it meant I had to stay away”.

You flinched slightly at his tone, not from fear, but from the raw truth embedded in his words. He had chosen your safety over his own happiness, a decision that had broken both of you in different ways.

Your voice rose, trembling with the intensity of every feeling you’d held back for so long. “I would trade my damn safety in an instant, Dean”, you whispered, the rawness in your voice making him falter, “if it meant I could be with you. If it meant feeling alive again, actually living instead of just… existing”.

Dean stood up, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and something darker—something that carried years of wounds, both seen and unseen. Without a word, he lifted his shirt, revealing the bruises and fresh stitches scattered across his torso. But the worst of it was a deep, angry gash just above his heart, the skin around it still raw and healing. You inhaled sharply, a wave of shock and horror settling over you as you took in the reality of what he’d endured.

His voice was barely steady, each word laced with a raw edge. “I was possessed, (Y/N). Literally. There was… someone else in my head, guiding me, forcing me”. His eyes flashed with a bitterness that cut through you, and he gestured to the wound on his chest. “I took this knife—my own damn hand—and I slit my chest open. Tried to rip out my own heart. But it wasn’t me… it was a demon. A demon using me, my own mind, my own hands”.

He paused, the words hanging heavily between you, the rawness of his confession unraveling the walls you’d built to protect yourself from fully understanding what his life entailed. “Is that what you want?”, he continued, his voice breaking. “Because that’s the life you’re asking for right now—a life where every time you turn around, you’re wondering if it’s me, or if it’s something that’s using me to get to you, or to hurt you”.

You looked down, your mind spinning as you tried to process the weight of what he’d just shared. Dean leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively over his bruised chest, his expression hard but filled with a pain that went beyond the physical. There was a rawness in his eyes, a desperate, unspoken need for you to understand, and yet… a hesitance, as if he were daring you to truly see the darkness he lived with.

“Look at me”, he said, his voice low and filled with a bitterness that broke your heart. “And tell me… tell me that loving me is enough to overshadow all of that sick shit”. The words came out with an edge of self-loathing, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone wanting to hold onto someone so scarred, so damaged by things most people could never even comprehend.

The way he spoke—as though even the idea of loving him was something ugly—sent a pang through you. You lifted your gaze, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the haunted look in his eyes, and you felt your own heart ache. He’d endured so much, and he still couldn’t see that none of it made him unworthy. If anything, it made him braver, stronger, someone who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders alone because he didn’t want it to touch the people he cared about.

You took a small, steadying breath, meeting his gaze with an intensity that matched the weight of his words. “Obviously, you don’t know how much I’ve fallen for you if you think any of this would stop me”, you whispered, the words slipping out softly but laced with unwavering conviction.

Dean’s posture stiffened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he absorbed your words, his defenses crumbling in a way that left him looking more exposed than ever. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could look at him that way, how you could see all of him—the scars, the trauma, the darkness—and still be here.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I just… I don’t get it”, he murmured, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “Why? Why me, when all I seem to do is break things?”.

Dean’s voice dropped to a murmur, barely more than a whisper. “I’m not worth it, baby. Trust me”, he said, his eyes darkening with an ache that went far beyond the bruises on his body, carrying the weight of everything he’d been through, every person he’d lost. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to push the thought of deserving you away. “All I do is bring people down… get them hurt or worse. You deserve so much better than someone like me”.

Your heart clenched at the self-doubt etched into his face, the look of someone who had spent too long believing he was unworthy of love. You reached up, gently cupping his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Dean, don’t you see? You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. You’ve spent your whole life trying to protect everyone, carrying everyone else’s pain. I know you’ve been through hell and back, and I know you think that makes you damaged somehow. But it doesn’t”.

He looked down, swallowing hard, his expression wavering between hope and disbelief as he leaned into your touch. “But what if… what if all of this, everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done… it’s too much? What if one day I look at you and I see the hurt I’m so afraid to put you through?”.

You held his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Then we face it together, Dean. Because I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you”.

Your voice trembled as you looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears that held both the ache of the past and the fragile hope for something more. “I spent eight damn years missing you, Dean”, you murmured, the weight of those years evident in every syllable. “Thinking about you, wishing… for nothing but you in my life”.

You took a deep breath, the vulnerability in your words spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “I don’t care about where we go, or what it looks like, or if it’s not what most people would call normal. I just want you. In all those dirty motels, on the road, wherever you go, take me with you, Dean. Please”.

Dean’s face softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in the sincerity in your gaze. His own eyes glistened, caught between disbelief and a kind of cautious hope he hadn’t felt in years. He reached up, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek as if grounding himself in your touch, his hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions behind his gaze.

“I can’t promise you anything but the life I’ve got… and it’s not pretty”, he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your breath hitched as you whispered, “I don’t care, Dean”. The words left you in a soft, trembling rush, tears beginning to trace paths down your cheeks. “I can’t let you leave me again, not this time. Not again”.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes almost overwhelming. And then, without a word, he pulled you closer, both hands coming up to cradle your face with a tenderness that stole what little breath you had left. His thumbs brushed away the tears as he looked at you, his own eyes shining with a vulnerability he rarely showed. Then, slowly, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise, a reunion, and an apology all at once.

It was gentle at first, like he was rediscovering something precious, but as the years of longing and missed chances caught up with you both, it deepened, each second erasing the distance that had once stretched between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he needed to prove that this moment was real, that you were here, together, in spite of everything.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you were breathless.

Dean’s hands slipped from your face, his gaze holding yours for one more beat before he let them drift down to your hips, his fingers gripping you with a renewed urgency. Without another word, he lifted you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both possessive and tender, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go even for a moment.

Your arms wound around his neck as he carried you down the hallway, each step steady, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of everything unsaid, everything lost, and everything found again lingered in the air, creating a feeling both electric and deeply comforting. By the time he reached your bedroom, his breaths were ragged, mirroring your own, a testament to the years of longing you’d both endured in silence.

Gently, he laid you back on the bed, his hands still cradling your hips, and his gaze softened, holding a quiet reverence as he took you in. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, then your cheek, his touch warm and lingering as if he were mapping the parts of you he had missed. The room fell into a calm quiet, filled with the steady rhythm of shared breaths and the comfort of knowing you were finally here, together, without any walls between you.

He kissed you again, deeply, fully, as his hands traced the curve of your waist, his touch saying all the words that had lingered between you.

Only a few minutes later, you found yourself straddling Dean’s lap, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, mindful of the bruises and healing wounds scattered across his body. The heat between you both was undeniable, a palpable warmth building with each passing second, but you hesitated, searching his face, worried that even the smallest movement might hurt him.

Dean, ever himself, noticed the hesitation in your eyes and let out a soft, exasperated chuckle, his hands giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “C´mon, sweetheart”, he murmured, that familiar teasing glint sparking in his gaze. “You really think a few bruises are gonna keep me down?”. He tilted his head, flashing that trademark smirk that somehow made your heart race and eased your worries at the same time.

“Trust me, I’m not made of glass”, he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur as his thumb traced circles against your hip. “I’ve been through worse, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”.

You felt a smile tug at your lips, your nerves fading under the warmth of his gaze. Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Besides, if this is how I go out, I can’t think of a better way”. His voice held that cocky, playful edge that was so quintessentially him, reminding you that beneath the scars and bruises, Dean Winchester was still very much himself—unbreakable, stubborn, and entirely in the moment with you.

With a soft laugh, you leaned in, finally letting go of your hesitation. “Alright, Winchester”, you whispered back, “just don’t say I didn’t warn you”.

Dean’s smirk widened, his eyes sparking with that familiar mischief. “You know, I don’t mind a little pain”, he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he held you steady, his hands warm and firm on your hips. “Actually… might even say I like it”. His grin grew as he emphasized his words by pushing his hips up gently, nudging himself just barely inside you, a silent reminder of his impatience and his eagerness to close the distance between you.

The small movement sent a spark of heat through you, erasing any remaining hesitation. Dean’s eyes locked onto yours, holding you in his gaze. “You’re making me wait way too long, sweetheart”, he murmured, his hands urging you closer. “What’s a guy gotta do to show he’s ready?”.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in, meeting his gaze with equal intensity as you let yourself sink down onto him, savoring the feeling of being close in a way that felt both familiar and brand new. Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as you settled fully, and for a moment, the only sounds were your shared breaths.

“Damn”, he muttered, his hands moving up your back as he pulled you in for a kiss, slow and deep, his usual playfulness softening into something more intense and tender. “Guess that was worth the wait”.

You couldn’t help but shiver, caught off guard by the intensity, the fullness, as if you’d forgotten just how overwhelming being with him could feel. You took a steadying breath, letting the sensation settle over you, before slowly lifting your hips. Dean’s hands moved with you, guiding you with a care that softened every edge of the moment. His gaze was fixed intently on your face, his eyes heavy-lidded, a quiet awe filling them as he took in every little reaction, every flicker of pleasure that crossed your expression.

His jaw tightened, and he bit his lip, clearly trying to rein in the sounds building in his chest. But a low groan slipped through, despite his efforts, his breath hitching as he felt you sink back down. His hands pressed into your hips with just enough pressure to ground you both, a silent testament to his own restraint.

“Fuck, you have no idea”, he murmured, his voice strained, as if the words were pulled from somewhere deep within him. “No one… no one has ever felt this good”. He shifted slightly, his hands guiding you into a rhythm that made your breath catch.

You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed his ear as you moved, your voice a teasing murmur. “Is that what you say to all the women you’ve been with these past eight years?”. Your words were light, but there was a hint of something deeper, a vulnerability you tried to hide beneath your playful tone as you sank down onto him again, letting your hips roll in a way that made him groan.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter, pulling you closer, his own breath coming out in a shudder. He shook his head, a small, breathless chuckle escaping him as he looked up at you, a tender honesty in his gaze. “You really think anyone else could ever feel like this?”, he murmured, his voice low, each word laced with that familiar intensity. “Trust me, no one even came close”.

He lifted his hips to meet yours, his movements growing a little more insistent, as if to prove his words. His gaze stayed locked on yours, a silent promise in his eyes. “It’s just you”, he whispered, his voice rough. “Always was”.

A quiet whine slipped from your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers tracing a path along his shoulder, your voice barely a murmur as you teased, “I don’t believe you”.

Dean’s eyes narrowed playfully, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tilted his head, his hands pressing you down against him with a gentle, insistent pressure. “Oh, you don’t, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, almost daring. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you”.

Dean shifted, turning the two of you over despite the clear discomfort it must have caused him. His eyes glinted with that unmistakable spark, the one that told you he wasn’t about to let anything hold him back. You felt him still inside you, steady and unyielding, his warmth grounding you both.

Your gaze drifted down to his chest, taking in the angry, jagged cut just above his heart. The stitches looked haphazard, as though they’d been done in a rush, and the surrounding skin was a mix of deep purples and blues—evidence of just how much he’d been through. Gently, your fingertip traced along the edge of the bruised skin, your touch feather-light, filled with worry and tenderness.

Your voice came out in a quiet murmur, worry lacing your tone. “Dean… it’s infected”, you whispered, your fingers hovering over the wound, the red, inflamed skin and rough stitches telling a story of hurried care and relentless battles. You could feel the concern flooding through you, the urge to make him rest, to tend to his wounds.

But before you could say more, Dean’s hands found your hips, grounding you. His eyes, filled with an unwavering intensity, held yours as if to say he’d handle every ounce of pain if it meant proving just how much you meant to him. Without a word, he shifted, pulling you closer, his own pain evident but ignored as he thrust deeply, a gesture meant to bring you back to the moment, to remind you both why you were here—together.

A breath caught in your throat, a mix of sensation and shared vulnerability bringing you back, anchoring you to him.

Dean's voice was low, rough with both determination and an edge of vulnerability. "I want you here with me, sweetheart", he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours, his hands steady and grounding on your hips. "I’ve waited eight years… so stop worrying about something stupid like me".

His words hung between you, raw and insistent, filled with a depth of feeling he usually kept hidden beneath layers of armor. You could feel his sincerity, the unyielding need that drove him to push past his pain, to have this moment with you, undiluted and real. He wanted to make every second count, to show you that even through all his scars, he was still yours.

You felt the last of your reservations fall away, leaning into his touch, matching the intensity in his eyes with your own. “I’m here, Dean”, you whispered, your voice steady, your hand resting softly over his heart, feeling its strong, unbroken beat.

"Good", he whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he leaned in, brushing a tender kiss across your mouth. His touch trailed down along your jaw, his lips grazing your skin with a gentleness that made your breath catch. All the while, his movements were unhurried, savoring each moment as he thrust slowly, steadily, holding you close as if he wanted to prolong every second of this closeness.

There was an intimacy in his touch, a quiet reverence that spoke volumes without a single word. Each gentle thrust, every brush of his lips along your neck, felt like a vow, a promise made in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. The world seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you—no past regrets, no fears of what was to come, just the warmth of his skin against yours and the shared rhythm you’d fallen into together.

It felt like coming home.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you instinctively tightened around him, your body responding to his touch, to the feeling of him moving within you. Every inch of him felt achingly familiar, yet new, as though the time and distance had only intensified the way he filled the spaces you’d kept hidden for so long. It was overwhelming, each slow movement stirring up emotions you hadn’t let yourself feel in years, everything raw and unfiltered.

For Dean, every sensation felt like a reunion, a rediscovery of something he’d lost but never truly let go of. The warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch, the quiet gasps you made as you held onto him—each was a reminder of the love he’d left behind, of the emptiness that had lingered in every city, every hunt, every lonely motel room. The pain and sacrifice, the years spent convincing himself you’d be better off without him, all of it melted away in this moment.

Both of you moved in sync, guided not by urgency but by a quiet, reverent understanding of the time you’d lost. His hands held you with a mixture of tenderness and need, each brush of his thumb against your skin, each press of his body against yours, a silent reassurance that he was here, now, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The weight of eight long years, the ache of missing each other, faded into a wordless connection, a love that hadn’t dimmed but had only grown stronger, waiting patiently to be reignited.

In that moment, there was no doubt, no lingering fears—only the overwhelming relief of being together, two hearts finding their way back home.

You spent hours wrapped up in each other, lost in the warmth and connection that had been denied for so long. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word filled the room with an intimacy that felt like both a reunion and a promise. The night stretched on, and the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared breaths and murmured affection.

By the time the clock neared three in the morning, you were both spent, your bodies exhausted and drenched in a comfortable sheen of sweat. Dean’s face was flushed, a shade deeper than usual, his breathing heavy as he finally allowed himself to collapse beside you. He let out a quiet sigh, a contented sound, as though just being there, with you, had lifted the weight he’d been carrying for years.

You turned toward him, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, but as you did, you noticed the warmth radiating from his skin, hotter than usual. A small frown tugged at your lips as you gently touched his cheek, the flush there not entirely from the hours spent together. His eyes flickered open, catching your worried expression.

“Dean… you’re burning up”, you murmured softly, concern etching into your voice.

He gave a lazy, dismissive smile, waving off your worry. “I’m fine”, he mumbled, voice thick with fatigue. “Just… been a long few days, that’s all”. But the weariness in his gaze, the slight edge of fever in his flushed skin, told you there was more to it than he was willing to admit.

You pressed your palm firmly against Dean’s forehead, feeling the heat radiate through your hand—a clear sign that his fever wasn’t just “nothing”. Your gaze traveled down to the wound on his chest, your concern deepening as you took in the angry, red edges of the cut. It was obvious that the stitches were barely holding, and the faint yellow tint around the area spoke to a growing infection. The rough bandage job and few pieces of surgical tape were only making things worse, failing to keep the wound clean or properly closed.

“Dean… this isn’t just a little fever”, you murmured, your voice edged with worry. “This is serious. You need proper stitches, and we need to take care of that infection. You can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away”.

He let out a sigh, his attempt at a reassuring smile faltering under your concern. “I’ve had worse”, he said quietly, but even he seemed to know how thin that excuse sounded as he shifted uncomfortably, the strain on his face evident.

You stood up from the bed, slipping into your satin robe. As you moved toward the bathroom, you could feel Dean’s gaze on you, and even though you knew he was stubborn enough to resist, you weren’t going to let this go. Pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet, you began rifling through its contents, mentally cataloging what you’d need.

“Dean, you really can’t keep brushing this off”, you called over your shoulder, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He shifted uncomfortably, grumbling in that way only he could. “You know, just because you took one semester of medical school doesn’t make you a doctor”, he muttered, his voice holding that familiar mix of sarcasm and exasperation.

You returned to the bed, raising a brow as you met his gaze. “And I’m hoping you’re just this mean because of the fever”, you shot back, unflinching, though your worry softened the edge in your voice. “Otherwise, I might start thinking you don’t appreciate the fact that I’m trying to keep you from ending up with an infection that could put you in the hospital”.

Dean huffed, averting his eyes. “I appreciate it”, he mumbled, begrudgingly. “It’s just… I’m fine. I’ve had worse, really”.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes as you took a closer look at the wound, the jagged edges of the stitches clearly the result of a rushed, one-handed job. You stepped between his legs, hands on your hips as you inspected the inflamed, swollen area, barely able to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“Who the hell stitched this up, anyway?”, you muttered, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at him, fully expecting an explanation.

Dean looked away, a bit of embarrassment flickering over his face before he grumbled, “Did it myself. Sam wasn’t around, and I wasn’t about to go to some clinic just so they could tell me to ‘take it easy’”. He paused, glancing at the bruised mess on his chest, almost as if seeing it through your eyes. “It wasn’t exactly my best work”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a mutter.

Your heart softened despite yourself, knowing how fiercely independent he was, how he hated being vulnerable. You let out a slow breath, the mix of worry and tenderness filling your chest. Gently, you touched the skin around the wound, your fingers brushing softly as you examined it.

"Clearly”, you mumbled, trying to keep the frustration in your voice light as you unscrewed the cap of the antiseptic. You soaked a cotton pad, glancing up at him for a brief moment to give him a wordless warning. Dean was already bracing himself, his hands gripping the bedframe on either side, his jaw tightening as he looked down.

The second the antiseptic touched his skin, he sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles going white as he held onto the bed. His entire body tensed, his eyes squeezing shut as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that crossed your lips, a part of you secretly pleased that you were getting back at him just a little for the stress he’d put you through.

“Hurts that much, huh?”, you teased, though there was an unmistakable gentleness in your voice. You dabbed carefully, doing your best to be gentle while still cleaning the wound properly.

He let out a strained chuckle, his voice rough. “Feels like hellfire, sweetheart. But don’t let me stop you… ”, he bit out.

You gave him a sympathetic but firm look, your tone softening slightly as you said, “You know I’m going to have to take these stitches out, right? They’re… not doing you any favors. I need to redo them, and it’s going to hurt—probably a lot—especially with this infection”.

Dean’s face twisted in a grimace, his fingers flexing around the bedframe as he let out a resigned sigh. “Perfect. Exactly what I wanted to hear at three in the morning”, he grumbled.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before going all DIY surgeon on yourself”, you teased, your tone warm but edged with concern.

Dean scoffed, though his grin was tight as he braced himself. “Yeah, because I have so many other options on a hunt”, he muttered, a hint of defiance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fingers gentle as you began to carefully peel back the old, grimy surgical tape. He hissed, the tension evident in the way his hands tightened around the bedframe, his jaw clenching as he tried to mask the pain.

“Don’t be such a baby”, you murmured, attempting to keep your touch as soft as possible. “Big, tough hunter, but a little bit of tape has you groaning like that?”.

He shot you a look, his usual bravado slipping just enough to reveal the discomfort. “Yeah, yeah”, he ground out, wincing again as you finally pulled the last bit of tape free. “You try dealing with it and see if you’re all smiles and rainbows”.

“Maybe I would be”, you replied, giving him a teasing smirk, though your voice softened as you took in the state of his wound. “But seriously, Dean… if I’m not here next time, maybe just skip the home surgery routine?”.

Dean’s expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “Maybe I’ll just… stick around, then”, he mumbled, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The unexpected confession hung in the air, heavy but laced with something hopeful, and you felt your heart tighten.

“Yeah”, you replied softly, letting the weight of his words settle over you both. “Maybe you should”.

As the last of the tape came off, you took a steadying breath and began the delicate process of undoing the stitches, working carefully to minimize his discomfort. Dean’s breath hitched with each slight tug, his hands gripping the bedframe tightly, but he kept his eyes on you, watching every movement as though grounding himself in your presence.

Every so often, a tiny bead of blood would surface along the wound, and you’d pause to dab it away gently with cotton, the antiseptic stinging just enough to make him wince. His jaw tightened, but he stayed still, holding himself steady through the pain with quiet resilience.

“Almost there”, you murmured softly, your voice soothing. “Just a few more, then I’ll clean it up and redo them”.

Dean gave a slight nod, his eyes never leaving your face. “You make it sound like it’s nothing”, he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the strain. “Forget the one semester—you’re practically a pro at this”.

You chuckled quietly, though your focus didn’t waver. “And here I thought you didn’t think I was qualified”, you teased back, trying to keep his spirits up as you finished removing the last of the stitches.

As you carefully set the first new stitch, Dean’s hands instinctively flew to your thighs, his grip tightening almost reflexively as a pained groan slipped through his clenched teeth. His fingers dug in, steadying himself against the sharp sting, grounding himself through the contact with you. You glanced down at his hands, feeling the warmth of his touch even through the tension of the moment, and you couldn’t help but pause for just a second, your gaze flickering to meet his.

“Hold on, Dean”, you murmured gently, focusing on keeping your movements as smooth and precise as possible. “Just a few more”.

Dean’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw flexing as he drew in a shaky breath, his fingers still gripping your thighs as though he needed the contact to anchor him through the pain. “You’re… doing great”, he managed, voice rough but laced with gratitude, the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through despite his discomfort. “Just… didn’t realize you’d turn torture into a bonding experience”.

You let out a soft laugh, the warmth of it soothing the tense air around you both. “I thought you could handle a little pain, Winchester”, you teased gently, finishing the stitch with as much care as you could manage. He huffed out a laugh, squeezing your thigh once in acknowledgment, his fingers relaxing slightly as he took a deep breath.

“One down, a few more to go”, you whispered, your tone reassuring as you moved to the next stitch. Dean’s hands remained on your thighs, steadying himself, and somehow, amidst the quiet pain and gentle touches, a calm seemed to settle over both of you, an unspoken understanding that this moment—like so many before it—was bringing you closer in a way that went beyond words.

After a few more stitches, the cotton pads in front of you were soaked in his blood, a quiet testament to the care and patience you’d poured into every careful movement. You let out a breath of relief as you finally tied off the last knot, your fingers moving with a practiced gentleness as you made sure everything was secure. Just as you reached for a bandage to cover the wound, you felt a subtle tug at your waist, Dean’s hand slipping beneath the edge of your robe, fingers brushing your skin with a warmth that sent a gentle shiver through you.

You glanced down, meeting his gaze, seeing the flicker of tenderness and gratitude mixed with something else—a quiet, unspoken need that lingered between you both. His hand opened your robe just enough for his fingers to rest against your hip, his touch light, hesitant, as if waiting for your permission.

Dean’s eyes softened, an almost playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Guess I owe you one, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, roughened by the combination of pain and something deeper. He leaned forward slightly, the hint of vulnerability in his gaze grounding you both in the intimacy of the moment. “You patched me up pretty good… now I just need to return the favor”.

Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion—you felt warmth bloom in your chest, the connection between you two as solid and undeniable as ever.

Dean’s lips trailed ghost-light over your stomach, hovering dangerously close to where every nerve seemed to spark under his touch. His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt the familiar ache of anticipation, even as your voice faltered with concern. “Dean, you need to rest now”, you mumbled, trying to keep your resolve firm as you reached to gather the bloodied cotton and gauze.

But Dean’s hand closed gently over yours, stilling your movements. “Just… stay”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with that undeniable pull that only he could create. He looked up at you, a teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something deeper. “Besides, I think you’re the one who needs to unwind”.

You tried to protest, to insist he should be resting after everything, but his gaze held yours with a quiet determination. Dean’s fingers grazed up your thigh, grounding you in the moment as he leaned in, his lips pressing warm, lingering kisses along your skin.

"Let me take care of you for once", he murmured softly, his voice roughened but sincere.

You let out a soft groan, partly in annoyance at Dean’s stubbornness, but mostly at the way he knew exactly how to coax you into letting go of any protests. Just as you opened your mouth to object, he sank back onto the bed, settling himself comfortably with that signature grin that was equal parts challenge and invitation. He lifted his hand, curling his fingers in a slow, beckoning motion, and grinned wider as he said, “Sit”.

You stared at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief as he saw the uncertainty flicker across your face.

Slowly, you climbed on top of him, instinctively moving to settle over his hips, but Dean’s hands tightened gently around your waist, guiding you higher, closer to his face. His touch was both steady and insistent, and when you finally realized what he wanted, a flush of warmth spread over your cheeks, your heart beginning to race. He looked up at you, his gaze dark and filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken even further.

“Right here, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low, filled with a soft, teasing warmth that only heightened the intensity of the moment. His eyes held yours, his expression open and eager, as if he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the pleasure of you. His hands settled firmly on your thighs, grounding you, reassuring you that he meant every word, that this was exactly where he wanted you.

You hesitated for just a second, your heart pounding, but as his hands guided you forward, you felt every lingering worry slip away. He looked at you with such genuine affection, that familiar, stubborn patience in his gaze, that it was impossible to resist

As the early morning light crept into the room, you found yourself under the warm spray of the shower, the heat easing the fatigue from a night filled with closeness and quiet whispers. Dean joined you, carefully adjusting his stance to avoid getting his wound wet. Despite his best efforts, you could see him wince every so often, his jaw clenched in concentration.

“You’re as stubborn as ever”, you teased, stepping closer to help shield his wound from the water.

Dean took the opportunity to draw you in, his arms wrapping around your waist with a gentle but steady pull. He guided you back just enough so the water wasn’t pouring directly over you both, creating a small, intimate space where the warmth of his body surrounded you.

You felt his lips press softly against your shoulder blade, a lingering kiss that sent a shiver up your spine. His embrace tightened slightly as he leaned into you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. His hand splayed across your waist, anchoring you both in the moment.

"Thanks for looking out for me", he murmured, his voice a low hum that vibrated softly against you. There was a rare vulnerability in his tone, a quiet appreciation that went beyond words.

You leaned back against him, resting your hands over his as you both stood there in comfortable silence, the sound of the water filling the room. His hand slid up, brushing a stray droplet from your collarbone, his fingers lingering as if memorizing every curve and line. For a moment, it was as if time stood still, the world outside fading away as you both found peace in the closeness you shared.

With a soft sigh, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering as he whispered, "I could get used to mornings like this".

You mumbled, barely above a whisper, “You said that before…right before you left me the second time”. The words slipped out, laced with a hint of sadness. You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the past settle around you both, the times he’d walked away despite the promises that still lingered between you.

Dean’s arms tightened around your waist, his hold becoming firmer, as if he could anchor you to him just by sheer will. His breath stilled for a moment, and you could sense his heart beating a little faster against your back, knowing he felt the truth in your words.

You turned in his embrace, looking up at him, a fierce determination in your eyes. “I swear to you, Dean, if you’re not taking me with you this time…”. You paused, your voice steady, holding his gaze without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll hunt you. I’ll join up with every demon, ghost, and whatever else is out there, and I’ll find you. I’m not losing you again”.

A flicker of something softened in his eyes. He swallowed, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek in a silent apology. “I know”, he said, his voice barely a whisper. “And I’m done running, I promise. You’re coming with me…wherever this road goes”.

You felt the tension melt away as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. In that moment, you knew he meant it—this time, he wasn’t going anywhere without you. The past may have cast its shadows, but standing there with him, you felt the strength of something real, something that wouldn’t break again.

The warm spray of the shower continued to cascade around you, but the world felt perfectly still. Dean’s arms around you, his forehead pressed to yours, were more grounding than anything you’d ever known. For the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts and fears that had haunted you both were quiet, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

His whispered promise lingered in the air between you, fragile but unshakable, like the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness. “Wherever this road goes”, you echoed, the words a vow of your own, a tether tying you both to the promise of staying together.

Dean looked at you then, his gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness that seemed to reach into your very soul. “We’ve got this”, he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as much reassurance as it was devotion.

You knew deep down that, no matter the battles or storms to come, you’d face them side by side. Together, you had finally found your way home.

-The End-

———————————

A/N: I LOVED writing this one. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28 @ladykitana90

[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter One - The Blue Crayon 

. ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . 

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff 

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

. ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . 

★ Prologue ★ 

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn. 

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago. 

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers. 

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community. 

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into. 

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while. 

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it. 

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t. 

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face. 

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting. 

. ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . 

The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather. 

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present. 

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends. 

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder. 

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident. 

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now. 

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him. 

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.” 

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time. 

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands. 

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger. 

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers. 

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page. 

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile. 

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far. 

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him. 

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines. 

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature. 

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table. 

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s. 

“Are you?” He counter asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him. 

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand. 

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table. 

“Borrow them?” She asks. 

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’. 

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time. 

[n0ahsebastians]

hello loves!! this is my first post on here EVER!!! that's kinda crazy HAHA this came from a special place in my heart, the first noah fic i've ever written (it's also posted on my ao3 account teehee) but i finally decided to post them on here. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! i'll post more if y'all like this one :D

18+ content; PLEASE DO NO READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!!

warnings: smut (not too much but enough), lots of fluff and lots of love.

sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain (title from 'aqua regia' by sleep token)

They arrived late back home. The plane ride felt excruciatingly long and he was so glad to be on solid ground again. The tour was long, long but one of the best they’d done in a long time. One of their favorites, he thinks, as he’s grabbing his luggage from the carousel. The airport’s quiet; an almost ominous humming sounds from the escalators moving up and down and the lights above them. The few people that are flying late are sleeping in the chairs near gates or waiting for their rides to arrive out front. The guys and crew assist in hauling the equipment out to the bus, pulling suitcases of clothes and instruments and whatever else they can grab in the meantime. It’s freezing outside, colder than the weather they just left hours ago. Goddamn East Coast winters.

He can’t wait to get home, to the comfort of his own space again. To his kitchen, his couch, his bed, her. 

He keeps looking at the last text she sent him before he boarded the plane, see you so soon, be safe. i love you ❤️ 

She was asleep hours ago; time differences are a bitch but he replied to her anyways  just landed. on our way home. love you baby 😚

He can’t stop smiling at the message, knowing he would see her again in mere minutes. The thought of holding her again, kissing her, lying next to her for the first time in 3 months, was enough to make this whole tour worth it. 

Years ago when they first met, it was nothing more than a few words here and there between them. He dropped out of high school, she continued her studies. He started a band, she became an event manager. They stayed in touch here and there over the years but nothing was ever serious. They didn’t want to complicate things within their lives, disrupt the process or the flow.

But then the calls became more frequent. The texts became flirty, they were telling each other about their days and making sure to check in on one another. She called him when she was having rough days and he did the same. He was always willing to make the time to talk to her, to calm her down, get her breathing under control again. He was her lifeline you could say, in more ways than one. 

Then there was that time they Facetimed and she told him she missed him. How she missed seeing him everyday. How she missed coming home to him and even the little things like holding his hand and watching movies together. They’d only officially been together three months, but there was something there. Something so much more than just phone calls and long distance texts. It was something real.

It started innocently. Until it wasn’t so much.

“How much do you miss me?”

She could see a gleam in his eye, one she hadn’t seen before but she liked it. A lot.

“So much.” Her voice was soft, her t-shirt was riding up over her thigh; he could see the soft skin of her hip in the glow of the lamp from their bedroom; she was only wearing underwear and all he wanted was to put his mouth there. Fucking hell.

“I fucking miss you so much.” 

His words made her stomach flutter and she hummed softly. She watched as he shifted on the hotel bed, adjusting the laptop to have a better view of her. 

“Can we…do something?” He sounded so nervous, he didn’t know why he was nervous but he was. Maybe because this woman was absolutely sexy and he wanted her so bad. Wanted everything with her. He didn’t know it then but he’d always wanted her.

“Yeah.” 

“I wanna see you,” he said lowly, running his hand through his hair, “all of you.”

She gulped, trying to process his words. They had never done this, any of this. They hadn’t even taken that step yet. It excited her that he wanted this with her. That closeness, that intimacy. Finally.

“Noah…I-“

“Do you trust me?”

She took a deep breath, smiling softly at him. She did. She always had.

“Yes.”

“I got you. Trust me, baby.”

She loved hearing him call her that. It slipped off his tongue so effortlessly. His tongue. She started thinking about the way it would feel on her body then, how he’d kiss her, mouth at her to bring her to the edge. It suddenly made her squeeze her thighs together. Noah noticed, smiling at her from the laptop screen.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” He situated the laptop screen so she could see the length of his body now, his sweats clinging to his long legs and his bare chest in view, tattoos on full display. 

“You. I’m…thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

She was embarrassed. How was she supposed to tell him she was thinking about his tongue inside of her, how she wanted to feel his lips on her skin and his fingers tracing the skin of her hips, her thighs, his teeth nipping at her stomach and everywhere he could, when they hadn’t even made it to that point yet?

“Tell me.” His voice was low, sexy. It made her entire body ignite.

“Your…tongue.” There it was. She felt her cheeks heat at her own words. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. 

“Fuck. Tell me more.”

“Noah…”

“Baby, there’s no one else here. Just you and me,” he assured her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax herself, tried to think of something that wouldn’t make her want to bail out of this. There was no way she could now; she told him she wanted his tongue on her. She was in too deep now.

“Honey, look at me.” His voice was soft, caring. He was sweet, so sweet, and she adored that about him. He knew she was just as nervous as him, just as vulnerable. This was a big step for them. For her even. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in years. There had been no one after high school. Until Noah.

When she was finally able to look at him again, he was smiling sweetly. God she wished he was here with her. Wished she could touch him and hold him and kiss him. Lay next to him, inhaling his body wash and hints of cologne that still lingered on his skin.

“Just trust me, okay?” he says finally. She closes her eyes and nods again, keeping eye contact with him as she begins to remove her shirt. He stops her though.

“No, leave that on. Take off your underwear.”

Fuck. Fuck.

She bit her lip, lying back against the headboard. She hooked her fingers into the thin material, slowly sliding it down her legs. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she tossed them onto the floor. She folded her legs over one another, pulling her t-shirt down a bit so her lower half was hidden from the camera. 

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now. Kiss you.”

She decided to finally play along. She was feeling braver now that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Where would you touch me?” She ran her fingertips over the sheets, looking up at the camera just as she heard him softly whimper. 

“Between your legs. Fuck, you’d be so warm and wet. You’re wet now aren’t you?”

She was. She could feel the heat between her legs and she needed something. Needed a release. 

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.”

She hesitated before slowly parting her legs, making sure he could see her. She heard him gasp when she touched her fingers to herself, laid her head back against the pillows. She started slowly, listening to his breathing become more and more ragged. This was so out of her element, but she was loving the reaction she was getting out of him.

“Fuck, you look so good. I wish I was there with you.”

“Mmm…Noah…”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Talk to me more.” She started moving her fingers faster, not too fast though. She didn’t want to come yet. 

“Does it feel good, you touching yourself?”

She nodded. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Mm…s’good…” She moaned, making the fabric of his sweats tighten. Fucking hell.

“What was that you were saying about my tongue? You want me to taste you, don’t you?” 

She whimpered, her legs tensing at his words. Yeah, that’s all she was thinking about. His tongue inside of her. It was making her brain short circuit. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I wanna taste you so bad, you have no idea.” He practically growled as he continued watching her fingers move in and out of herself. It was the fucking dirtiest, but hottest thing he’d seen, probably ever. And it was driving him crazy.

“Fuck, look at you right now. You look incredible.”

That made her sigh softly, a smile forming across her lips and her brow creasing as she continued to touch herself. She needed him to keep talking though, the silence was not helping her.

“Keep going.”

He groaned, palming himself through his sweats. She sounded heavenly, like nothing he’d

ever heard before. Everything about her was unreal. 

“Spread your legs more. So I can see you come.”

She did, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t in the room with her and was thousands of miles away in a hotel, watching her through a laptop screen. She tried to bite her lip to keep quiet but he didn’t want that. He needed her to make more noises. 

“I wanna hear you. Don’t be shy anymore.”

“Fuck, it…feels so good.” Her moans were the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He could

feel his sweats tightening some more and he wanted to touch himself so fucking badly. So he did. 

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Fuck, please,” she whined, her fingers moving faster.

“You’re so sexy like this, Jesus fuck.” He wished he could see the way she looked when she was coming. The moans and whimpers leaving her mouth as she fucked her fingers in and out of herself was the hottest thing he’d ever seen or heard. 

“Noah…I’m…”

“I know, baby. Come for me.” 

That was it. She gasped, her release hitting her harder than she wanted it to. She came on her fingers, her legs shaking and her toes curling. Watching her fall apart from his words was enough for him to finish himself and he wasn’t far behind her. 

She pulled her t-shirt back down over her legs, lying sideways on the bed again so she could see him. Her cheeks were flushed, so were his. She smiled lazily at him and he did the same. 

“Think I need to shower now,” he said, making her giggle. She didn’t even know he was touching himself until she saw him wipe his hand on a towel hanging from the chair next to the dresser. It made her legs squeeze together all over again.

“I wish you were here,” she said, her fingers reaching up to the screen. He smiled at her again.

“I know, me too.” He mirrored her actions, placing his fingers against hers.

“Umm…that was…”

“Hot.”

She giggled again and he wanted to kiss her so badly. He wished he was home with her

now. 

“Yeah. Maybe we could…try it for real. You know…when you…come home.”

He smiled again, his lips curving up in the widest grin, making his eyes crinkle in  

the corners. 

“I am absolutely not taking my hands off of you when I get home.”

And she knew he meant it.

He’s home now and all he can think about is lying down. He’s exhausted and feels like a 200-pound weight has just attached itself to his shoulders. He tells Matt and Jolly they can unload the truck in the morning after they all sleep. It’s almost 2am and he just needs to lie down. That’s all he’s thinking about. And her. 

The three of them enter the house after the rest of the group heads out, saying they’ll see each other in the morning for breakfast and some much needed relaxation outside of a busy tour schedule. 

He unlocks the door, tossing his bag in the corner by the couch, not even bothering to bring it the fifteen extra steps into his bedroom. He doesn’t care, he’ll take care of it later. 

Jolly and Matt go their separate ways as well, hugs and goodnights are traded before Noah makes his way to his room finally. He quietly opens the door so as to not wake her. She’s fast asleep when he squeezes into the room, shutting the door softly and locking it. He doesn’t really need to lock it but it’s been three fucking months since he’s been home and he wants to just spend as much time with her as possible in the confines of their bedroom. 

She stirs gently as he makes his way around the bedroom, opening drawers to grab fresh boxers and a clean t-shirt. A routine he hasn’t been used to in months. She’s wearing one of his shirts, he sees now, the way it hugs the curves of her body so fucking well, it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip.

It’s been two years now. Two years since they decided to try this thing out. Besides his friends and the band and all the other things he worked endless hours to make his own, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was everything to him, she was his lifeline. 

He changes into his clean clothes, tossing his traveling wear into the hamper by the bathroom. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to function for a few more minutes to brush his teeth. Turning the water on wakes her up and he swears under his breath as he attempts to crack the door to keep the light out of her eyes. It’s too late though, she’s up now. 

He rinses his mouth out, turning off the water just as the door opens to reveal his very sleepy but incredibly beautiful girlfriend. She smiles lazily at him, reaching up to embrace him in a hug. He laughs gently as he reaches down to wrap his arms under her thighs and hitch them around his waist. The feel of her skin against his after all this time, the warmth of her breath, the goosebumps that raise on her legs as he runs his thumbs over the skin. This. This is all worth it.

“Hi baby,” he kisses her forehead, her cheek, holding her tightly against him. 

“Hi bub,” she says into the skin of his neck. He hears her sniffle and she pulls her face away to rest their foreheads together. He kisses her for the first time in three months, forceful but full of love and everything they missed while they were separated from one another. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says against her lips. She presses her hands into his face, holding his jaw and rubbing her thumbs over the smile lines in his cheeks. He feels tears running down her cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb.

“I missed you so bad.”

“You smell so good,” he says, pulling away from their kiss to press his nose into her neck. She giggles, wrapping her fingers in his hair which he’s cut a bit more since the last time they saw each other.

“You cut your hair.”

“Not much. Just a little bit off the back.” He runs his hand through it, keeping one underneath her legs which are still wrapped around him.

“It looks good,” she smiles, placing another kiss to his lips. She feels him smile against it, turning off the bathroom light and walking them to their bed. He lays her down against the sheets, lifting her shirt to press kisses to her stomach. She giggles again, her fingers in his hair as he continues down her body.

“Noah, it’s 2am,” she says, with no indication that she wants him to stop. He hums, taking one of her hands from his hair and intertwining their fingers. The gesture makes her stomach flutter, she loves when he does that.

“You’re not convincing me of anything.” He kisses her hip, tugging at the material of her underwear to expose more skin. She looks down to watch him, his tongue running the length of her hip bone and she bites her lip.

“You need sleep, bub.” A sigh leaves her lips as he tugs down her underwear. His fingertips against the skin of her thighs raises more goosebumps and she lifts her legs to kick them off. He laughs gently. 

“I know,” another kiss to her hip, “fucking exhausted”, open mouthed kiss to her pelvic bone, “but I just want to be with you for a little bit.” He looks up at her through his eyelashes and she really can’t resist this man no matter how hard she tries. He has her in too deep. He’s drawing circles in the skin of her thigh, she traces her finger over the tattoo on his throat, her favorite, and feels his pulse quicken at her touch. He kisses her wrist, her thumb running over his bottom lip. Touches that they’re trying to memorize again.

“Yeah, okay.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “‘Yeah okay what?’”

“Yeah, okay. Put your mouth on me then.”

He smiles at her. “There she is.” He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before bringing her legs to rest over his shoulders. Her fingers find their home in his hair again, tugging gently as he presses his tongue to the skin of her thigh. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, moving closer to where she’s needed him the last three months. His breath is warm, icy from his toothpaste. The combination against her center sets her whole body on fire. 

“I missed–unhh!” 

“Sshh, ssh ssh you’re so loud,” he laughs gently against her, the vibration making her gasp softer this time. His hand flies up to cover her mouth. 

“Sorry, shit.” 

He laughs against her thigh. “Be quiet for me.”

She closes her eyes, letting his lips make their way back to her center. He blows against her before pressing his tongue into her, a groan leaving his lips as she presses her heels into his shoulder blades. It feels so good, not just the sex but this. Him. Being with him again. Her hands in his hair, his hands on her legs, everywhere on her skin. He was her home. They both needed this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against her, bringing her back from her thoughts. She moans again, her hips lifting to meet his mouth, his tongue moving against her in the most sensual way, she feels like she might explode from this entire moment. 

“Love…you…” she manages to say between heedy breaths and tugs of his hair.

“Fucking love you.”

“Noah…baby, I–gonna…”

“I know, baby, doing so good for me. Come for me,” he breathed against her. She absolutely hated when he said things like that, it made her come too fast. She wanted to sit on his face, fuck his mouth forever. Besides making love, this was their favorite. 

“Stop…saying that…”

“What, that you’re being so good for me?” He tongued at her again, her legs shaking against his head. She gasped as she came against his mouth, her heels pressing farther into his shoulder blades if that was at all possible. She tugged at his hair again as he coaxed her down from her first orgasm in almost three months (there were several Facetime calls but they weren’t always alone to have phone sex and the release was everything she needed).

He hummed against her before pressing several kisses to the inside of her thighs. She nearly smacked him for getting her off so quickly.

“Fuck off,” she laughed, sitting up to pull him from between her legs. “Get up here and kiss me.”

He did. He smiled against her lips, his tongue pressing into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and she didn’t exactly hate it. He breathed into her mouth, laying back against the headboard and bringing her with him. She laughed gently, reaching down to lift her shirt over her head. Noah’s eyes widened, staring at her naked body in front of him again for the first time in three fucking months. The longest three months of his life. 

“Are you gonna take your clothes off, fool?”

Fuck he loved this woman so much. He leaned forward to bite down gently on her bottom lip, a gentle moan leaving her.

“I can’t when you’re sitting on me, you ass.”

“You started this,” she jabbed at his chest then reached down to drag her fingers along the waistband of his boxers. She started tracing his tattoos again, the letters and the scriptures he had, all his anime characters across his sternum and thighs. She was distracted, he was distracting. His body and his hands and his lips and everything about him. He lifted her chin to look at him. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. 

“Hi. You went away again.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just…missed this.” She traced the ink on his chest again, placing a kiss to

the skin there. 

“Me too.” 

She pressed a kiss to his chin, then up to his lips. His hands came to rest on her bare waist, slowly dragging her center across his clothed one. She moaned into his mouth, digging her fingers into his chest. 

“And I missed your mouth but I wanna make love to you before we go to sleep.” 

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forward so he was on top of her again. He kissed her neck, down her arms, across her breasts, her nipples. He swiped his tongue across the nub, earning a low moan from her again. He trailed his lips down to her stomach, open mouthed kisses pressed against her thighs and hips. 

When he reached her ankles, he lifted her leg so he could press one last kiss to her tattoo there, earning another giggle from the beautiful woman beneath him. 

“I love you.”

She smiled up at him as he stood from the bed to remove his boxers. She could feel her body heating up again as he came to rest over her, lifting one of her arms above her head and intertwining their fingers. He spread her legs gently, pressing his fingers against her to open her up again. 

“I love you,” she moaned at the sensation of his fingers and the head of his cock beginning to brush against her. She closed her eyes, her lips falling open as he pressed their foreheads together and rolled his hips forward gently to meet hers. It felt like the whole room went still, their fingers squeezing one anothers above her head and his other hand on her thigh, dragging it up to wrap around his waist. 

“Fuck, I missed this, you feel…so fucking good.” Noah began to move slowly, careful to not hurt her or go too fast. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

“Oh my…Noah…”

“Fuck, baby…can you come for me again?”

“Mhm.” 

She was close again, he could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake again and the way she was whimpering into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his shoulder, digging into his skin as he rocked against her gently.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I went this long without you,” he breathes out, a low chuckle coming from her lips. 

“I missed you…so much.”

“Fuck…I missed you.”

“Noah..unhh…”

That sound. That fucking sound. He was absolutely gone for this woman. She was everything to him.

“Come for me, baby. I…I got you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, she tensed around him and gripped the skin of his shoulder again. The feel of her coming around him was enough for him to lose his fucking mind; he wasn’t far behind her, groaning into the skin of her neck and gripping her hip with the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers still. His hips stilled, rocking against her one last time before releasing a deep breath against her neck. Her fingers petted through his hair, against the nape of his neck, across his back, his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat starting to slow again, a thin sheen of sweat was settling over their bodies and he didn’t want to move, wanted to stay like this with her forever. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she finally said as he was lying on top of her. He chuckled, placing a kiss to her cheek. He tried to get up but she pulled him back down on top of her. He smiled at her.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

“Did you guys have fun though?” Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, her collarbones glistening and a red mark was forming in the corner of her mouth from where he’d bit down on her lip. Goddamn she was so beautiful. 

“Yeah we did. Always do.”

“I’m proud of you bub,” she whispered, running her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He smiled lazily down at her, pressing his lips to hers gently. She hummed, parting her lips to let his tongue press against hers again.

“I love you so much,” he says, rubbing their noses together. Another hum from her.

“I love you.”

[ramenrains]

TW: Death

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Kris' mother and I just got off the phone a few hours ago, and I am heartbroken to announce this, but @blackfairypresident passed away today.

Kris was one of my dearest friends for many years and had endured his fair share of struggles, but I admired his resilience and his willingness to get back up each and every time he was knocked down. Whether he came to visit me in Greenville or we were going to concerts in Atlanta, we always had fun and felt at ease around one another. He had an openness in his heart that was unmatched, a sense of humor that could have you screaming with laughter even in your worst moments, and a passion to help those who had endured the same struggles he himself had faced.

That's why I'm writing this post.

Kris met many of his closest friends online. We provided a safe space for him to be his truest self. As such, he didn't have many ties to his real life on these accounts and kept them separate from the places he added work associates and family.

I didn't want you to be left in the dark. More importantly, Kris wouldn't want you to be either.

More details, including funeral arrangements if Kris' family feels comfortable sharing them, will be forthcoming in the replies or edits to this post. If you need a friend or a shoulder in order to help process this news, feel free to reply here or you can shoot me a dm whenever. I know this is sudden and completely unexpected. I'm still going in and out of shock myself.

Let this serve as an online memorial space in the meantime. Share things you loved about him or fond memories.

Here are a few of mine in pictures:

-When Kris visited me in December of 2022. He scuttled around downtown Greenville taking pictures of whatever he could, and it was adorable.

-The BAP Forever 2018 tour. It was notoriously a shitshow and they were giving free tickets away hand over fist. Kris posed with the extras we had to let people know they could come find us and nab them.

-VAV in Atlanta in early 2020. We were vvip and got to take this photo with the group together.

There were many more times we spent together that I didn't commemorate with photographs, but now I wish I had. The last time he and I were together for Bang Yongguk in 2023, I mentioned he, Jun and I should take group pictures and we collectively forgot. I'm sure I have some on Snapchat on an old phone somewhere, and I'll go digging probably later today.

I love you, Kris, and I'm so sorry this happened the way it did. I know how hard you were fighting for the life you deserved. I love you I love you I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm grateful that this was one of the last things I said to you, so there was never any doubt that's how I felt.

[swaps55]

I lost my friend to cancer yesterday.

I’d really like to tell you about her.

We meet people throughout our lives who change it, in big ways and small ways, and ways we will never forget. Sara/ @dearophelia was one of those people for me.

I met her here, on tumblr, about 10 years ago. I wish I could remember what piece of writing I stumbled onto first, but she was such a gifted writer that I immediately wanted to see more. I somehow wound up following her live blog of a road trip, which was full of uproariously snarky jokes about Ohio. I had the courage to reach out and tell her how funny I thought she was, and how great her username was to this fellow Mass Effect fan who lived right down the road in Kentucky and got all the Ohio jokes.

We talked. We chatted. I introduced her to a group of people I played Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer with. She grew from a level one first-timer to a total badass who could carry a team and taught other people how to do the same thing.

And then my life fell apart.

Everything fell apart for me. Turning to my family wound up being a catastrophe, and I didn’t have local “real world” friends I could turn to.

So I texted Sara. Told her I needed somewhere to go, and asked if I could stay with her that weekend.

She texted back, “Yes.” Sent me her address, and said to ping me when I got there. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask why. She just gave me shelter. So I showed up on her doorstep, and she listened while I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t think I was insane. She had every right to think both things. Instead, she gave me safe harbor at a time when I had no control over my life and didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

For the next several months, I made frequent trips up I-75 to Ohio. She kept an air mattress out for me. We played multiplayer. We talked about Mass Effect. We talked about life. We bitched about all the people who hated on one of our favorite characters. She introduced me to Babylon 5. I have so many memories of sitting on the couch in her apartment, with her cat Odo crawling around behind my head. When I eventually pieced myself together enough to leave Kentucky and start the work of starting over, it meant leaving behind that sanctuary with her in her apartment, and it was something I had to grieve along with everything else.

And now I am grieving it again, and so much more. I am so lucky I was able to fly back to Ohio a few weeks ago while I had the chance. Hugging someone goodbye, knowing it’s the last hug you’re going to get….well, it sucks.

But I got that hug.

Sara was so many things. She was a gifted storyteller with entire worlds in her head. One of the weekends I stayed with her, she had recreated the Mass Effect galaxy map on her wall with notecards and string to help her tell a story. She could create a character and make you fall in love with them in a matter of sentences. Because of her stories, I binge watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1.

She was also not afraid to unapologetically be herself. I had a lot of things to learn and unlearn about the world, feminism, gender, and sexuality, especially in those days. Listening to her fight for her space in the world and refuse to be told she was anything less than who she wanted to be helped me learn some of the things I needed to learn, and embrace the things I discovered about myself.   

She loved music. She made the best fucking playlists. She taped inspirational notes around her condo. She sent me a set of coasters that say, “Fuck It,” and “Nah,” and I use them every single day. Her smile was gorgeous. She lit up a room.  

And now she’s gone. I won’t see her in my tumblr notes anymore. I won’t see her on my dash. I won’t get pinged with new Odo photos. She won’t get to hear the new music I listen to that shows up in our Spotify blend. I won’t get to talk about the next Mass Effect game with her. I won’t get any more Ao3 updates in my inbox.

I wanted you to know about her – this pocket friend of mine who impacted my life in ways that I won’t ever forget.

I hope you will read her stories. Listen to her playlists. She was a brilliant human being. She should still be here. She isn’t.

And I miss her.  

[luminoustarlight]

On The Edge | Din Djarin

A bounty takes you and The Mandalorian to Batuu and he reveals his true desires.

rating: explicit | pairing: din djarin x afab!reader | wc: 7.1k | read on ao3 warnings: canonical type violence, fluff, SMUT [vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, praise kink, blind folds], mutual pining

this is a repost from old blogs of mine but it is my writing &lt;3

Wild space fascinates you. The Unknown Regions of the galaxy are just that— unknown. Black holes, supernovas, and strange phenomena are largely unexplored and still remain a mystery to most space travelers. You’ve dreamt about what it might be like to witness a burst of colorful energy, no longer wishing to be a star, but rather a spectacle to be seen. 

You’ve loved the many parts of the galaxy you’ve seen, planets you often frequented, but the stars always look the same no matter where you are. Inner, Mid, or Outer Rim. 

As Mando lands the Crest at one of the ports on Batuu, you know this is the closest you’ll get to being in Wild Space. You’ve read stories and heard tales of travelers who stopped on Batuu before making their journey into the unknown. You are at the edge of the galaxy and you want to explore. 

Thankfully, Mando said you can take Grogu with you to the Black Spire Outpost while he is off tracking his bounty… or bounties. Batuu has largely become a backwater world full of smugglers, gamblers, and those who want to stay off the grid. Since travelers no longer need to make a stop on the planet before venturing further into space thanks to advancements in hyperspace technology, it’s been the perfect hideout. It’s a haven for those who prefer life in the shadows. 

Still, trading outposts thrive with shops and popular eateries. You can’t wait to get Grogu out of the ship and stretch your legs. 

You are definitely in need of some new clothes thanks to a run-in with a couple of testy loth-cats going after the Child. Speaking of Grogu, he’s in need of some actual toys. And maybe you’ll get something for The Mandalorian to remember you by if you ever met an untimely fate. 

Hey, running around with a bounty hunter and a child is a dangerous business. Not to mention the bounty that was once on your head, too. Nevertheless, after nearly a year with the gruff Mandalorian and curious child, you would trade your life for theirs without an ounce of hesitance. 

You like Mando more than you like to admit. He broody, you’re bubbly. He’s quiet, you’re talkative. He’s realistic, you’re a dreamer. Sometimes you feel like you’re chipping away at his Beskar wall, discovering parts of Mando he’s forgotten about himself. You never pry, you always let him lead the conversation. And actual conversations with The Mandalorian are few and far between. But when you have them, they matter more to you than he knows. 

Mando stands from his chair and heads for the armory. You follow close behind, Grogu nestled in your arms. You’ve gotten quite good at descending the ladder with one hand from the amount of time you hold the Child.

“Here.” Mando shoves your WESTAR-35 pistol against you. You grab it with your free hand before he releases it to gather more weapons for his trek. You are about to say that you don’t want it, but he speaks before you do. “It’s seedy out there. And you’re taking the Kid. Just to be safe. Do you have your knife?” 

You roll your eyes. If there’s anything you’ve learned about Mando that’s surprised you, it’s that he worries. A lot. 

“ It’s not paranoia if you encounter untrustworthy people every day. It’s being proactive.” You remember him telling you many months ago. You think it’s sweet he wants you to be protected. Or maybe it’s more for the Kid. 

“Maker, Mando. We’re just going to the shops and getting something to eat.” 

“I just want you to be prepared. You’re very—” Mando stops abruptly, catching himself before he says something he wants to keep to himself. “I don’t want… someone might try to take advantage of you.” 

“You know I’m too keen to let that happen. I have my wits, my weapons, and my good looks.” You place Grogu on his feet so you can conceal your pistol beneath your shirt. You check your side pocket, ensuring you have the knife Mando crafted for you. It’s a more thoughtful gift than you initially realized, but you cherish it now. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mando mumbles, turning away from you. 

What does that mean? Before you can ask, he turns back around with a pouch of credits. “This is yours to spend.” And then he hands you another. “This is for food. For you and Grogu. Save your credits.” 

Your eyebrows crease together. He is being awfully generous today… perhaps it’s because he knows how long you’ve dreamt of visiting the Black Spire Outpost. Or perhaps it’s because he’s tracking three bounties and knows he’s in for a big payday when he gets all of them back to Karga. 

He stares at you while you think of the reason why he’s given you so much. Then your face relaxes. Just be thankful. 

“Thank you, Mando. Bright Eyes and I are gonna get a feast at Ronto Roasters, aren’t we, buddy?” 

The Child quirks up at you, cooing at the thought of something carnivorous to eat. 

“Just be careful,” Mando warns while the three of you descend the ramp with the Kid’s pram beside you. 

“I know.” 

“I’ll be gone for at least a few days. I might not return until I have acquired all three bounties.” 

“Okay,” you say contentedly. It’s routine for Mando to leave for extended periods of time. Sometimes you’d go a couple of days without communication and that used to worry you, but it doesn’t anymore. After about two months of traveling with him, you two decided that if you hadn’t heard anything from him: a hello, an update, or anything after seven days, you would contact him. He also said if you ever needed anything, you could turn on the comms. Every time Mando leaves, he hopes you need something. Hopes you want to hear his voice just as much as he wants to hear yours. You never do, though. 

“Mando?” 

The bounty hunter twists his head in your direction. He’d been looking towards the outpost, silent and brooding. “What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” He bends down to pick up the Kid. “Behave, okay? Listen to your mother.” 

Your heart squeezes. He can’t go around saying things like “your mother” because that would imply Mando is “his father” and that would imply that the three of you are a family. And you’re not a family. Right? What constitutes a family, anyway? Certainly not a bounty hunter and his two ex-bounties he’s decided to keep for the long haul. Now you’re the one staring at the outpost. 

“I’ll…” Mando places your shared child in the pram. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

Grogu’s ears drop, a tell-tale sign of his sadness or disappointment. He knows Mando is leaving. He looks over at you with big, sorrowful eyes. 

“How could we? You’re the life of the party, Mando,” you say lightly. You get a little chuckle out of him because you both know that you’re the entertaining one. Still, you wish you could walk around the outpost together, have a meal together, and share the experience of being at the edge of the galaxy together. 

But off you go in different directions, Mando’s cape whipping in the wind. You look back at him several times and he looks back at you until you and Grogu disappear into the crowd. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

“What do you think about this?” You hold up a light brown shawl with a hood. The fabric is light and drapey, and it would be ideal for cooler nights on temperate planets. You’ve already purchased a heavier jacket, made with stiffer and thicker material equipped with many practical pockets from another merchant. You also got new pants to replace the ones the loth-cats tore through, as well as some flowy and airy pants for warmer weather. Mando gave you the money to spend, right? Might as well get a new wardrobe with it. 

Grogu coos in approval at the shawl you are showing him and you decide to pay for this last piece of clothing and then head to the Toydarian Toymaker. Although you know Grogu will still play with anything but an actual toy, you still feel bad all he has is the metal ball from the lever in the cockpit. 

“What an interesting looking child you have there,” the Trandoshan clerk comments as he takes your credits. You glance at Grogu in the pram, unsuspecting of the tone the Trandoshan spoke in. You take your shawl from the counter and take the Kid out of the egg. You hold onto him tightly as the worker stares at him. His thin tongue slips out of his mouth and licks his scales. 

Not good. 

“Thank you. Goodbye,” you grab the rest of your purchases and walk calmly but swiftly out of the shop. Not good, not good, not good. The pram only moves so fast, so you know it’s best to keep the Child in your arms. Your bags of new clothing weigh heavily on your shoulder as you try not to obviously run away from the Trandoshan. You look behind you to see if he’s trailing you. 

Grogu giggles wildly against you, rather enjoying his excursion. “Now’s not the time, Kid. I think we’ve got trouble.” 

You pass by unassuming patrons, many of them walking leisurely from store to store. “Sorry! Sorry!” You apologize to a mother when you bumped into her son. She curses at you in her native language but you’re already gone. As you round the corner to the port where the Crest is, a loud croak emerges behind you. You immediately drop your bag and whip out your pistol from behind your back. 

The shopkeeper is nearing you with his blaster pointed at your face. His yellow eyes bore into you, trying to determine what your next move is. Your arm is aimed steadily at the reptilian creature, your controlled and intentional breathing calming you. There is no one else around the port and you’re not sure if that comforts or concerns you. No witnesses. No helpers, either. Not that anyone would help, anyway. 

“Hand over the kid,” he sneers while stepping closer. You walk backward as he does so, not once taking your eyes off of him. Grogu’s soft ear brushes against your arm as he looks up at you. 

“Over my dead body.” 

“If that is what you wish…” 

Blast! 

Unfaltering, you fire your pistol, dead center in the Trandoshan’s chest. He drops to the ground with a heavy thud and wisps of smoke trail into the air. A wave of relief washes over you and you kiss the top of Grogu’s fuzzy head. 

But then you realize it shouldn’t have been so easy. Trandoshans relish in the thrill of the hunt. That was hardly a fight and there didn’t seem to be any real sense of urgency for acquiring your child. Was he hunting Grogu as a bounty or as a snack? Both thoughts make you shiver. You place him back in his pram and close it. You cautiously walk towards the Trandoshan, still lying on the ground. You know that they are quick to heal but don’t know the full extent of their abilities. You kick his blaster out of arm's reach before standing over him and shooting him in the head. And then the chest again…  

You need to be sure he’s dead and you’ve never killed a Trandoshan before. If it was overkill, so be it. You’ll do anything to protect your child. 

Now you just need to figure out what to do with the body… 

You grab your bag full of new clothing and open Grogu’s egg. There he is, bright-eyed and smiling at you. You feel bad you didn’t get around to buying him anything, but perhaps you’ll go back out. Or maybe that’s a bad idea. You need to talk to Mando. But you also know he’d likely come back to make sure everything was okay. And you have everything under control. 

Safe in the ship, you hike up to the cockpit to get on the comms. You hope it doesn’t freak him out, since you’ve never contacted him before. What if he’s tailing his bounty? What if he is fighting them and you distract him and he ends up killed? 

No, your Mandalorian is too good for that to happen. You sit down in Mando’s seat and hover your finger over the intercom button. Here it goes. 

Static crackles before the airway goes clear. “M-Mando?” 

“Sarad?” Mando says immediately. You let out a sigh of relief when you hear your nickname. A nickname you still don’t know the meaning of. “Are you okay? Grogu?” 

You swallow. Why are you so nervous? You killed the guy, Grogu is safe, and you feel… fine? “We’re both fine. Well, I mean… not fine. We’re not hurt. It’s just that—” 

“What is it,” Mando pressed, adding your name at the end. 

“We were at a shop. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. A Trandoshan was taking the money and he made a comment about Grogu and it was just off. He was so creepy and his eyes looked hungry.��I just grabbed my things and took off. I made it to the ship but he was already there. He said to hand over the Kid and I said ‘over my dead body,’ and I shot him. And then I shot him again. And then again. I had to make sure he was dead, you know? I don’t know if he had a fob, I didn’t hear it at all. I feel so guilty because I shopped so much and I didn’t get anything for Grogu so I thought maybe we’d go back out but is that a bad idea? It’s probably a bad idea. But we’re so far out and we just got here so maybe that guy just wanted to eat him? I-” 

“Sarad, take a breath,” Mando says calmly. He can just imagine you in a frazzled state with unfocused eyes when telling him a story.

You do as he says, breathing in deeply. Oh, that feels good. Your lungs appreciated the taste of air. Have you not taken a breath that whole time? 

“Where is the Trandoshan now?”

 “Right where I killed him. Outside of the ship. What am I supposed to do with it?” 

“Is there anyone else at the port?” 

“Not that I know of.” 

“Local patrol will eventually find him. If they try to make contact with you on the ship, ignore it. They’ll think no one is on board and they have no rights to search it.” He sounds so sure of himself, but you can’t help but imagine patrol boarding the ship and arresting you. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. Do you want me to come back?” 

How are you supposed to answer that? Of course, you want him to come back. You always want him to come back the minute he leaves. You want to go back to the Black Spire and shop with him, have him help you find something for Grogu. But he has a job to do. And stealing your heart was not one of them. 

“No, we’ll be fine,” you sigh. 

“We’ll talk later,” Mando says gently, promisingly. Hopefully. 

A couple of hours later, local patrol indeed picks up the Trandoshan you killed and makes no effort in contacting you on the ship. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

The Crest is quiet and still. Grogu is taking a nap and you’re doing a deep clean of the weapons. Mando has been gone for three days and you’ve talked every day. Usually, he is the one who gets on, asking if you are around. Of course, you’re around. Where else would you go? You can’t tell him you’re too scared to go back to the outpost, so you told him you would use this time to clean the ship and make any repairs that you’d been putting off. 

Every barrel, chamber, handle, and trigger of the blasters are as good as new. You disassembled each of them and meticulously put them back together. Mando, of course, has his pulse rifle and several other weapons, so you won’t be able to clean them until he comes back. 

You miss him. You miss him more than you ever have and you don’t know why. You’re used to being away from him and not talking for extended lengths of time. Now you’re talking to him every day, throughout the day, and you long to have him next to you. To have his broad figure taking up half of the space in the cockpit and his modulated breathing as a comforting sound to help you sleep. 

There’s only so much you can do to entertain Grogu. You tell him the same tales of travelers venturing into the unknown frontier of Wild Space, helping him practice the Force magic with the metal ball and other objects around the ship, coming up with songs while you tinker with repairs. You love him, but you’re getting a little stir-crazy. You want to go back to the Outpost and you want Mando. 

You close up the armory and decide to join Grogu for a nap when you hear Mando say your name over the comms. “You there?” 

“I’m here,” you say into your portable communicator. You fixed it on the second day so you don’t have to stay in the cockpit or race up whenever Mando reaches out. 

“Good. I- I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Thump, thump. You place your hand over your heart. Cool it. “Oh. well, hi. How are you?” 

“Good,” he replies, unconvincingly. He’s tired. You know he is.“I’ve got two of the bounties. I’m on my way back.” 

Your heart hammers harder. Depending on where he is, he could be back before or by nightfall. You could see him tonight, tomorrow morning at the very latest. He’d be stinky and probably grumpy like he always is when he comes back from a long hunt, but he’d be home.

And you can figure out what the stars is going on with your emotions. Maybe. Hopefully. Or they’ll get worse. 

“That’s good. I, um… we miss you.” 

You feel like you can hear Mando smile. “I miss you, too,” he says quietly, unsure if he wants you to hear him say it. “Both of you,” he follows up. “I’ll be back soon.” 

 I miss you, too. You think that’s the closest you’ll get to knowing how Mando feels about you. He misses you. He’s given you gifts. He trusts you with the Child. It may not be a proclamation of love or anything, but it’s enough. For now. 

“Blech.” An unfamiliar voice on Mando’s end grouches. “ Who is that? Your girlfriend or something?” 

“Shut it,” Mando warns sternly. “Sorry,” he says more gently, directed at you, you presume. 

“It’s okay.”

Several whines come from behind the storage door Mando uses as a sleeping bunk. Grogu has just woken up from his nap. “Hold on, the Kid’s waking up. I’m sure he’d love to hear your voice.” 

“Alright.” 

You press the control panel and the door slides open quickly. Grogu smiles when his bright inky eyes land on you. He babbles happily and raises his arms out toward you. “Hey buddy,” you lift him out of the hammock. “Say ‘hi’ to Dad.” 

Grogu coos into your communicator. 

“Hey, Kid,” Mando says. “Has your buir been taking good care of you?” 

“No, we’ve been eating nothing but junk food and killing more Trandoshans,” you reply on behalf of Grogu. 

Mando lets himself chuckle at your comment. “I’m sure you have been.” 

“I think I’m going to hurl. I’d rather be dead than listen to this conversation.” The same mysterious voice interjects again. The bounty can’t even hear what you’re saying. They must be filling in your replies with their imagination. 

“I gave you the option,” your bounty hunter calls back to his infamous one-liner. 

“Hey,” you offer gently. “Just worry about getting back safely. We’ll see you when you get back.” 

“Can’t wait, sarad. ” 

The comm goes silent. Your heart is hammering, your tummy is bubbling and your head is reeling. Mando wanted to hear your voice. He said he can’t wait to see you. You look at Grogu and ask, “Do you have any idea what’s going on between me and your dad?” 

Your child replies back with a curious coo. You’re in love with him, you assume he says. Can it be? Are you in love with The Mandalorian? 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

It feels like hours had gone by since you last spoke with Mando. You thought every sound you heard was the ramp lowering. You paced the hull of the ship, climbed up and down the ladder, and played with Grogu until you grew impossibly antsy. Those bounties must be slowing him down.  

When Mando finally comes back, you’re using the kriffing vacc tube! 

A clamoring erupts from the other side of the door, much of it sounding like resistance from the two bounties. Just as you emerge from the vacc tube, Mando is pushing one of the bounties into the carbonite freezer. The other, a tall, blonde, human male is looking directly at you. His wrists are bound in front of him and he knows what his near future is looking like, but that doesn’t stop him from smirking at you. “Hey there, pretty thing.” 

“Mando, you’re back,” you smile lightly, ignoring the bounty’s comment. It’s the same voice you heard over the comms. As you begin to walk towards them, the bounty frowns at you, extending his shackled arms forward, trying to catch the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. 

“Now, that’s no way to treat a guest. You just gonna let her ignore me like that?” 

You roll your eyes and punch him firmly in the gut. You (and Mando) watch with contentment as he doubles over in pain. You know how to land a good blow, which is just part of why Mando keeps you around. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you taunt. “Was that the kind of attention you wanted?” 

You kick him into the freezer and let Mando hit the control. The man’s slender face grimaces, temporarily immortalizing his expression until he’s defrosted. 

“Hi,” Mando finally says. “Did he touch you? Are you alright?” 

You shrug. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m really just… I’m happy to see you.” 

Mando sighs and steps closer to you. As you let him into your space, you breathe him in. He doesn’t smell as bad as you thought he might. Granted, the weather on Batuu is pretty mild. No extreme heat to cause excessive sweating beneath his armorweave and Beskar. Still, he’s gone four days without a shower. It doesn’t matter. You want to hug him. You want to be all around him, swallowed in his scent. You’ve missed him so kriffing much, you don’t even realize he’s brought his gloved hand up to your forehead. Your skin prickles and your breath catches in your throat. He traces a line down your face to your chin. He angles your head towards his and Maker, nothing is normal about this. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

I’m thinking about how much I’ve missed you and how I want to get on my knees and– 

“Hey, Grogu,” Mando notices your child tugging at the hem of his pants. He lifts him in his arms. Grogu clings onto Mando’s cowl and babbles happily. “I’ve missed you, too.” 

“A-are you going back out? For the third bounty?” 

Mando shakes his head. “The third bounty isn’t here anymore.” 

Oh. That means you’re leaving Batuu. You didn’t even have a chance to get anything for Grogu or Mando. He can tell you’re disappointed by the way your face falls. “We can stay another day. If you wanted to go back to the Outpost together.” 

Can he read minds now? 

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Are you hungry? We don’t have any food left, but we can go back to Ronto Roasters and bring it back here. Or I can go out and let you spend some time with Grogu and freshen up.” You can tell how exhausted he is. You don’t even have to see his face to know that. His shoulders reveal a multitude of traits— they adopt a heaviness when he’s tired. They roll back when he’s intimidating a bounty. And when he’s with you and Grogu, you feel as though he finally lets himself relax. 

“You sure you want to go out alone?” Mando’s voice is tentative. He knows you were worried about going back out with Grogu, but he isn’t sure how you feel about going out alone. He knows you’re capable of it. You have your pistol, your knife, and your solid fists. 

“I’m good. Is that what you want me to do?” 

Not really, he thinks. He wants you to stay on the ship. He wants to hear about everything you and Grogu got up to while he was gone. He wants to see what you got for yourself at the outpost, but most of all, he just doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to be with you. But then his stomach rumbles. Dank ferrik. He hasn’t eaten anything substantial in days. As much as it displeases him, he agrees to let you go back out. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

The Mandalorian is taking a nap when you return with the food. You half expected him to be asleep with the Child in his arms and you are right. Grogu is anything but tired, having already taken four naps during the day. He’s nestled against Mando’s side, nice and safe from the monsters lurking in the shadows. 

You set the food down at the foot of the closet and tap on the wall. Mando lifts his head and smiles beneath his helmet. “Food’s hot, if you want it,” you inform. You turn to make your way up the ladder but stop when you hear scuffling and feel a gloved hand on your wrist. 

“Stay?” Mando wonders. 

He wants you to stay? While he eats? You were only going to do what you always do. If Mando’s eating below deck, you go up top, and vice versa. “You don’t want to eat?” 

“I- I do. I was wondering… if you might want to eat together. Back to back,” he quickly adds. “I trust you,” he emphasizes those last three words, reiterating the bond you two have built over the past eleven months. 

“I’d love nothing more than to have dinner with you, Mando.” 

You begin taking out the food, arranging it in a line on the floor of the Crest. You gather three plates while Mando opens the containers of meat, vegetables, and starch. 

With piles of food on each of your plates, you and Mando sit back to back, with Grogu on your lap. He isn’t moving and neither are you. He might have suggested the idea, but if he’s having second thoughts, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable. “We don’t have to do this,” you say. 

“No,” Mando quickly replies. “I want to. Just… do you promise not to look, sarad ?” 

“I promise on all the stars of the known and unknown galaxies. I would never betray your trust.” You try to comprehend the gravity of this action for him. It’s forbidden for him to show his face to any living thing. And although you’re not going to see his face, here he is, removing his helmet in your presence. Because he trusts you. 

With a click, hiss, and a clunk, his helmet was off. You glance behind you, to see the glimmer of his helmet on the ground. You snap your head back and look straight. You tell yourself to focus on Grogu getting grease on your new pants, to focus on the inviting food on your plate, to focus on anything but your helmetless Mandalorian. You begin shoving your face with Solanum. Grogu offers you a piece of meat with a coo. 

“You with me, sarad ?” 

You almost choke on the food in your mouth. His voice rings through your ears and your spine shivers. Clear and unmodulated, raspy and gruff, but gentle all the same. You want to hear him again. You swallow. “Here. I’m here.” 

“Got nervous for a second. You were so quiet. It’s unlike you.” 

“Ha,” you deadpan. You can’t very well say you were silent because the only thoughts in your head are of him. What his face looks like, why he waited until now to do this, why he wanted to do this. “Do you like the food?” You ask instead. 

“Yes. It’s very good. Does Grogu like it?” Mando already knows the answer to the question, both of you knowing that the Kid likes everything, especially if it’s meat. 

“He’s almost done,” you laugh. You wonder how such a little thing can eat so much and so quickly. A large meal always tuckers him out, though. 

Mando hums in acknowledgment.

You finish dinner in comfortable silence. Grogu is sacked out in your arms by the time you two are done. “Gonna put him in the hammock. Don’t turn around, okay?” You’re already facing the bunk from the dinner so at least you don’t have to pass him. 

“Okay,” he replies. 

“Good night, little one.” You run your hand over the top of Grogu’s fuzzy head. You close the door and warn Mando that you’re turning around. “Wait,” you shut your eyes. “Am I allowed to see the color of your hair? I’m closing my eyes, my eyes are shut.” 

The Mandalorian rises from the floor and takes long strides over to where you’re standing. Right next to the vacc tube and sleeping bunk. How romantic. “Keep them closed,” he whispers close to you. 

You jump reactively, placing your hand over your heart. You instinctively want to open your eyes, but you squeeze them tight, scrunching your nose along with them. “Maker, Mando. You scared me.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and brings it down to your sides. He slides his hand into yours. You can feel his breath on your face, all warm and savory from your meal. 

“It’s okay,” you answer softly. You let the tension in your face fall while still keeping your eyes closed. The tension in your chest, however, is a different story. It’s growing and stretching and clenching. 

“You’re so beautiful, sarad.” Mando threads his fingers between yours. “I’ve always thought so but seeing you through my own eyes, it’s so clear. Mesh’la.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Beautiful,” he answers. You’re half surprised, seeing as he hasn’t told you what sarad means. 

“I-I’m sure you’re beautiful, too.” 

“You don’t have to say that.” 

“I mean it, Mando.” That name feels wrong now that he’s taken off his helmet. Doesn’t his helmet make him a Mandalorian? Now he’s just a man in armor, his face exposed to you, and Mando isn’t his name. He has a real name that goes with his face. The name his parents gave him when he was born. You wish so deeply to know who he really is. “You have a kindness to you. I don’t know if you know that you possess it, but you do. You’ve taken me and Grogu under your wing, you care for us and worry about us… it all makes you beautiful.” 

“ Sarad. My sweet sarad. You see things in me that I don’t. You’re kinder than me, more thoughtful than me. You’re selfless and generous. You take care of me and the Kid. You make me want to be a better person.  I want…” 

You feel his forehead rest against yours. Your legs are going to buckle beneath you, your heart is about to escape and leap into Mando’s chest. You can have it! 

“I want you,” Mando finally admits. And just like that, your heart is no longer yours. It is his and his to do what he wants with it. He can break it, he can cherish it, he can keep it forever. Because the culmination of everything you two have been through has led to this moment in the Crest.

You don’t even think. You tilt your head up blindly and press your lips against his. They are soft, but the scruff above his lip is coarse. He doesn’t hesitate, either. He moves against you, putting his hands on either side of your cheeks. He brings you impossibly closer to him, afraid that if he lets you go he’ll never get you back. The deep scent of leather from his gloves invades your senses as his tongue slips into your mouth. Your own hands find themselves in his hair. 

“Is this okay?” you mumble against him. 

“M-more than okay. Want…” he kisses harder before pulling away to look at you. Your eyes are still closed but your mouth is agape. You lean forward, wishing to fill the void Mando created. 

“What?” you furrow your brows. 

“I want more. If you’ll let me.” 

You tug on the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hair is soft and you can tell he keeps it well-trimmed. “You mean you want to have sex with me?” 

Mando— you wish you knew his name— almost snickers. At least, that’s what it sort of sounds like. “Among other things, mesh’la .”

“Like what?” You gulp. 

“Like hearing you say my name.” 

First, he takes off his helmet and now he wants you to say his name? Did he hit his head out there? “Wh-what?” 

He pushes your hair away from your forehead and trails his hands down your exposed arms before landing at your hands. He grasps them firmly, then brings them to your chest. “My name is Din Djarin. And I’d like to hear you say it.” 

Din Djarin. Din Djarin. You know your Mandalorian’s name. How wizard is that? “Din Djarin,” you say tenderly. “Din Djarin. A beautiful name for a beautiful man.” 

Din just gave you his heart, and then some. Who he is under the armor and helmet. Who his parents made him to be. He’s just a man. A brave man, a complicated man. A man you wish to know everything about. You’ve known him for eleven months and you’ve only just learned his name. You can’t help but think you’ve got a long way to go. 

“Will you let me take care of you, mesh’la ? Will you let me have you?” 

You nod promptly. Your center is already pooling with arousal, aching with anticipation. “Please, Din. Let you do anything.” 

Something is stirring deep within Din when he hears his name roll off your tongue. Like you were made to say his name. You and only you. “Good. Stay here, sweet girl. Keep your eyes closed.” 

You do as he says, soon hearing him rummage through the storage bins against the wall. You aren’t waiting long before he comes back to you. “Turn around.” 

“Would it kill you to say please?” 

Maker, you’re insufferable sometimes. “Please.” 

“Thank you.” You turn on your heels. Din places a light piece of fabric over your eyes and you immediately know why he’s blindfolding you. Din turns you back around and his lips return to yours, sending surprise tingles through your body. His hands can’t decide where they want to be– first your face, then your hair, then down to your waist before settling on your hips. He digs his fingers into your backside, pulling you closer to his body. He nudges his thigh between your legs, briefly brushing the spot that desperately needs attention. You groan, rolling your head back and allowing Din perfect access to your neck. 

He places light kisses down the expanse of your neck, peppering them from your collarbone, up to the corner of your jaw. You lower yourself onto his cold Beskar cuisse, hoping to create some friction against your center. 

Unsuccessful.

“Need you,” you breathe, struggling to find purchase on his armored body. Maker, there is barely anything for you to cling to, save for his cowl and cape. 

“What do you need, mesh’la ?”

“F-fingers, mouth, anything. Just more. Please,” you lean your head down on Din’s pauldron, steadying yourself with his shoulders when he removes his thigh from between your legs. He picks you up in one fell swoop, making you yelp in surprise. He walks two paces over to your bedroll and gently lays you down. 

“How about both?” Din slides your flowy pants and underwear down your legs. His cock twitches with each inch of skin that is revealed. He kisses over your navel, down to your center where you’re glistening for him. He removes his gloves and places them in the pile with your pants. “Perfect,” he breathes. “Just perfect.” 

Din drags two fingers up your folds and presses on your clit. You shudder beneath him, overwhelmed by what you cannot see. His face mere inches from your pussy, the lust in his eyes for you and all that you have to offer. He pushes your legs open, leaving one hand holding down your thigh. He plays with the slick between your folds, teasing your entrance with two fingertips. He waits for you to beg again, to say his name with fervor before pushing into you with thick digits. “ Maker, Din!” 

His fingers alone fill you well, stretching you and preparing you for his cock. At the same time, he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your hands finally found something to grasp onto in the form of his hair. His fingers work quickly against your walls and it’s not long before you’re squirming against your bed. His hands are rough but his mouth is soft and warm. He hums and groans against you as his cock is becoming too painful to ignore. He fiddles with his zipper with one hand while continuing to pleasure you with the other. And with his mouth still on your cunt, he’s proving to be quite the multitasker. 

“Din, I don’t wanna… don’t wanna cum yet,” you dig your head into your mattress when he sucks harshly on your clit. 

“You’ll cum as many times as I want you to.” Din kisses the soft flesh of the inside of your thigh. He does the same on the other. “So if I want you to cum on my fingers and my mouth, you’re going to do just that.” 

At this, Din inserts a third finger and you yelp, arching your back and fingers fisting your sheets. “Fuck! Feels good, Din. Feels so good.” 

He rubs his hand over the head of his cock, spreading his precum down the rest of his length. He groans into you and begins pumping himself at the same pace of his fingers fucking you. “Cum, mesh’la. I want you to cum before you take my cock.” 

You feel the sensation creep into your system. Din’s fingers and mouth overwhelm you and take away all control you had over your body. The coil begins to unravel, and your clit pulses as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs quake and your breath staggers. Din laps all of you up, allowing you to ride out your high against his mouth. “Good girl, mesh’la. Such a good girl.” 

Din brings his lips up to yours as he aligns himself with your entrance. “Can I?” 

“Please,” you nod. 

Immediately, Din rolls his hips into you. Stretching you wide and filling you high, you’re thankful Din took the time to prepare you. He is still, perhaps waiting for you to adjust. He kisses you tenderly and releases a heavy sigh as he revels in the feel of you around him. It’s far better than he imagined. He never thought he’d feel so complete. There’s no place in the galaxy he’d rather be. 

“M-move, Din. Please,” you breathe into him, finding yourself, yet again, drawn to the textured locks on his head. He slowly begins to thrust into you, setting a page that allows him to take his time. He’s weighed down by all of his clothing and armor, breaking more of a sweat with keeping himself from putting all of his weight on you. “Let me ride you, Din. Please, just lay down and rest.” 

You’ve always known how to take control of a situation and he isn’t going to argue with you. Din halts his movements, removes himself from you, and lays beside you on your bedroll. You blindly swing your thigh over him, grabbed the base of his cock, and lowered yourself onto him. His hands grip either side of your hips, guiding you up and down. You rip your shirt over your head, exposing the dusty blush bralette you have on. Din groans upon seeing the mounds of your breast, the way the lacy and sheer fabric looks against your skin. So kriffing perfect, he thinks. You lean down, wrapping your arms around Din’s back. 

Din juts his hips up into you, eliciting another yelp from your perfect mouth. It won’t be long before you cum again. You two work together, creating a rhythm that flows beautifully. Your moans and his grunts compose the melody. A sweet and harmonious sound. He sucks and kisses your collar, while you do the same on his neck and jawline. You learn his scruff isn’t just around his mouth. He has the makings of a beard. 

“Gonna cum soon, sarad, ” Din pants. 

“Me too,” you moan. Din slips his hand between you, finding your clit with ease. “Maker! Fuck!” 

With the additional friction of his fingers against your swollen bud, you’re done for. Your body falls limp against Din and he holds you tightly while he spills his thick seed inside of you. His cock twitches while you clench around him. “ Nngh,” he groans weakly. You stay wrapped in his arms for a moment, savoring this first time with Din.

“Thank you, mesh’la,” Din whispers. “I need to wash up. I’m sorry. I should’ve before we… but I fell asleep…” 

“It’s okay,” you smile gently. You imagine what he must look like. Flustered, flushed, and sweaty. You roll off of him and tell him you’ll wait for him in the bunk with the lights off. 

“Okay,” he kisses you. He gets up from the bedroll and climbs up the ladder to the ‘fresher. You take off your blindfold when it was safe to do so. You have to blink a couple of times to adjust to the light. You tidy your clothes into a pile near your bed, use the vacc tube, and change into your sleeping clothes. You crawl into the sleeping bunk, shimmying under the covers that smell so strongly of Din. 

As you wait for him to finish washing up, you can only think of one thing. 

Forget about Wild Space. You want to discover anything and everything there is to know about Din Djarin.

ugh i'm still so proud of this piece

◂ din masterlist ▸ main masterlist

[librarycards]

asking this not as a gotcha, but genuinely for perspective, as i respect how much you've read and wrote about antipsychiatry. so, i was committed in a psych ward as a teen, and the help i received there inspired me to pursue becoming a pediatric psych np. there's a lot about the system that angered me, but the good nurses i met there had an impact on me. i've also had a rough time finding the right prescribers for meds as an adult, and i've considered working primarily in medication management- to be the attentive resource that i wish i had years ago. i see you've answered someone who aspired to be a therapist- but would my goal be more likely to hurt than help, in this system? i intend to be critical, and not spout shit like ODD as a legit diagnosis; rather, my main goal would be to recognize how a kid's home is affecting them, as having that safer space away from my own home helped me realize the context of why i was that way. but plenty of people claim to have the best intentions, and then become abusive once in these positions of power, so perspective would be very appreciated. thank you

hey anon - thanks for this message. i've answered similar ones a few times before (1) (2) (3), but here are a few thoughts:

honestly, most good/good-intentioned people don't last very long in highly abusive institutional environments. my current therapist started out in a residential ed treatment place, and left to start a private practice because she couldn't stomach the abuse she faced from her superiors, nor the abuse she was expected to inflict upon residents. i have disabled/Mad friends who have gone into social work and/or psych-focused medicine. i do not know of any who have stuck around in psych ward/other high-control settings. it's a painful, demoralizing job even for people without lived experience, never mind for those of us who have been through it as patients.

the ones that stay often harden. there are always exceptions - there were a couple of staff in each of the places i was that were truly special people, not because of the institution but in spite of it - but most of the staff i encountered, from psych nurses to house parents to psychiatrists to social workers - were sharp and cold. maybe you won't become this, but either way, you'll have to put up with it.

and that's the fundamental problem, imo. even if you preserve your own code of ethics, you will not only be structurally limited by the regulations and demands of wherever you work, but you will also be in an atmosphere at best apathetic and at worst actively hostile to the autonomy and well-being of patients as such. you will have to choose between standing by at times of injustice/violence, or risking your job. we both know what happens behind those locked doors.

at the same time: these units will not close if you choose not to work there. people will not stop needing medication management; kids will not stop needing support amid abusive family/home situations. at the same time, it is in practice extremely difficult to effect real change for kids experiencing abuse - hard to get kids out of abusive homes permanently, hard to find non-abusive foster families, impossible to effectively support traumatized young people in these times of transition given the piss poor systems we have.

whether you'd be "hurting more than helping," while a fair question, is beside the point. i'm not entirely sure it's possible for anyone within these institutional strictures to 'help' in a long term sense at all. BUT, you would certainly make peoples' lives/stays in the hospital less painful in the short-term, even if you're pulling your hair out with frustration at the intransigence and needless cruelty of your colleagues. while you're considering what to do in career terms, i think it's also worth considering leadership positions where you can be a safe, supportive adult for young people without the expectations of the institution - a scout leader, coach, theater director, etc. (these are also not mutually exclusive with actual careers ofc) if you wanted to focus on the medical space, patient advocacy is also an option.

overall, i don't want to uniformly tell you "don't ever go into that", because, as i said, the position will exist regardless and i would prefer Mad kids to have as much access to compassion as humanly possible in a profoundly cruel system. but i also want to make clear that the violence attendant to that system will not be escapable for you, nor will you be able to move through it without perpetuating some of your own. think carefully about what you're able to tolerate.

[chuckchuck228]

Hello everyone!!! A few days ago the number of followers at this blog hit 900!!!!! And I really really want to thank every single one of you who followed me through this 4(ALMOST 5!!!) year journey.

I started this blog in 2020 but actively started to use it in 2021 when my mental health started quickly to go down. Because of my anxiety I stopped to talk to a lot of my friends(hi! i know you see this and I am so so sorry we stopped talking! I still think you are great people I am just to anxious to start talking again-) and I was really uncomfortable in my main(at that time) social media. So tumblr became my safe space.

Through the years I were in a lot of fandoms!! Till that day I still love all of them but now my heart belongs to osc which I also got into in 2020!!!! The osc fandom also means a lot for me and, again, I thank you, tumblr for that. Yes this community can be too chaotic- But I still love it with all my heart.

(When I started this blog I just got my passport and look at me now!! I am 18 only in a few months...)

Right now I am less active here and I am sorry for that.... My mental health gets worse and worse and my anxiety stops me from posting in any social media.... But I try to get better don't worry

I met so many cool people here!! Even if we don't talk I love every single one of you. Thank you so so much for following my journey. Stay tooned for more!!!(I don't know how to finish-)

-Love, Chuck

[haleigh-sloth]

The real academia were the friends we made along the way

(another many month old ask I'm so sorry)

No but forreal.

Even with the disappointment, there are a few things that make it to where I wouldn't take any of my time back:

I've made a lot of friends. One of which became an irl friend and is one of my best friends. We travel states to see each other and plan trips together. I wouldn't trade my time in BNHA for anything! (@redphlox). I formed a server some years ago and added a few people here and there and it became a safe haven to bitch and moan about life and talk about whatever story we're into at the time. It's been a consistent space for me online that I very much enjoy, I hope the others enjoy the space also. We're still active in it in bursts since we're all adults with lives and things, but it's so nice to have one consistent space to go back to. I'm so grateful for the small little community I formed on different platforms, tumblr, discord, twitter. I have no regrets honestly. Other friends I've made that I've met in person a few times and plan to again in the future also!

Getting SUPER into BNHA actually motivated me to re-read my favorite series that I'd engaged with in middle and high school and look at it through a meta lens. Even though BNHA burned me, it led to me appreciating my favorite stories (both old and newly discovered) so much more now that I'm older and take the time to catch onto things I breezed over as a kid. It made manga (and any story I consume) a lot more enjoyable, and for that I'm grateful.

Last but not least: I've learned my lesson. Never put faith in an author. Lmao. I haven't been burned by a woman author but I won't hold my breath. I'll pray that Blue Exorcist, Daemons of the Shadow Realm, Black Butler, and D.Gray-Man all have satisfying endings that won't make me regret following the stories (DGM I've been following for 11 years so...pls Hoshino don't let me down). While I'm less concerned about these stories, I still will remain skeptical and just hope for the best rather than indulge in any level of confidence I may have in the authors.

[planet-marz1]

2023 recap 💕

So I finally decided to join tumblr this year around 6(ish?) months ago, and so I wanted to do a little recap of my time here as we near the end of 2023

I started reading fics here around February of this year, right around when I decided to watch the hbo version of tlou. I was just a lurker for just a few months, but it was actually because of my love for a stranger's heart without a home by @morning-star-joy that I decided it was finally time to make a proper account around June.

Some of my absolute favorite writers & my favorite fics:

@joelsgreys - To Do The Right Thing & A Safe Haven @justagalwhowrites Lavender & Yearling @hier--soir - Under The Night & A Lover's Pinch @cherubispunk - Cherub

Around that time I also met one of my favorite people on this earth, and the sweetest human being ever @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ❤️ Literally my first ever mutual on here, and I seriously could not ask for a better friend.

After a few months I decided to start something a little special to bring some positivity to this space, aka "mari mail"

some honorable mentions:

And then with the encouragement of many friends, I decided to start writing! Which has been a very interesting & fun experience so far.

Never would I ever imagined that this year I would meet so many lovely people, including so many of my closest friends.

Tagging a few, but I promise there are so many more & I love every single one of you

Here's to the end of 2023, I hope 2024 brings all of us a fresh start, and many good things 💕

@amanitacowboy @pamasaur @catchallfangirl @beskarandblasters @joelscurls @maximoff-forevermore @littlegrungegirlaf @chaotic-mystery @janaispunk

[faegoddessog]

Dripping in Leather

Part 1 of 2- “So, Leather eh?”

Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, Leather Fetish, Leather Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Light Restraints, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Anal play(unprotected- play safe ya'll!)

Summary: No, I hadn't told Austin about my little leather fantasy. I mean, I'd never really explored it myself. I wasn't sure how to bring it up, so I brought a little surprise to Mexico City, where I was meeting up with him. But when I met him on set and he had those tight leather pants on, it was all I could do to keep myself together until we got back to the hotel room. Holy Fuck it was hot! Now if I could just get him to dust off a certain iconic outfit for me....

A/N: A big thank you to @richardslady121 for this request and collab. It's been so much fun to research a bit of leather kink! I am trying out first person perspective here, so let me know what you think! I appreciate all kindly feedback. I hope all ya'll beautiful people enjoy it! Please message me if you'd like me to tag you on future work!

Part 1: "So, leather eh?"

The moment the gentleman at the airline counter offered me the complimentary first class upgrade, was,  unbeknownst to me, the moment my life changed forever. When I sat down, all giddy to make the long flight from London home to LA in style and comfort, I didn’t know it would be next to Austin. Yup, Austin Butler. 

That was over a year ago, before ELVIS! had premiered and I admit,  I had no idea who he was. He was just an alarmingly handsome man with gorgeous manners and the kindest soul I had ever met. I remember how he held my hand as the turbulence was rough when we landed at LAX. We jokingly  call it our twelve hour first date. Had I known the crazy whirlwind that was about to happen, I’m not sure I would have agreed when he asked me out for dinner.  Do I regret it? Oh hell no. It’s been amazing, stressful and draining for us both, but amazing. HE is amazing. 

That memory always runs through my mind anytime I am on an airplane. As this one touches down in Mexico City, I am both nervous, lonely and excited. Why? Well, my baby is doing a photo shoot here and I’m meeting him for a romantic weekend. Between work and award schedules, public appearances and our desire for privacy, it’s been a while since we’ve had time with one another that wasn’t loomed over by the paparazzi.  

As a non-celebrity, the paps make me nervous. My success isn’t built on my face or my name or anything else connected to fame. You’d think they wouldn’t bother me because what the hell do I have to lose.  Austin, that’s what. He is what I have to lose and I simply won’t allow it. The only saving grace is how tight lipped Austin is about his private life. 

Relationships are hard enough when you are just a regular person, they are doubly hard when you add in dating Hollywood's latest  flame.  The thing is, at the moment, I’m not sure where our relationship is really. Award season has been so draining. So much time spent apart, it’s sucking the soul out of our sex life.  We had talked a few days ago and decided to take a little time for each other. And no, sex isn’t the only thing in our relationship, but I’ll be damned if it’s not important. 

…

I walk onto the set. I’m nervous, like I always am when I show up on a set. I never want to intrude or distract Austin, but watching him work is so fantastic. 

I am directed by someone with a YSL badge down a hallway and into a big room. They all know who I am, even if they sometimes roll their eyes behind my back. Props and boxes and the random flotsam that goes with the photo industry is piled up along the walls. There are black backdrop curtains hung up to form what I assume is a giant photo space. 

I turn the corner around the end of the curtain and there he is. Austin is standing, body facing me, arm stretched out to the side pulling back the fabric of the backdrop. It looks like one of those quiet moments he likes to take before he goes on, peeking onto the set like a spectator in his own crazy life.   

His profile is beautiful, his neck so kissable. The long black coat obscures the fact that he has gotten really lean over the past few months, lean but still beautifully defined. The simple crisp white t shirt merely a nice contrast to the black. Then I see … oh fuck… he is in black leather pants. They hug his thighs as he takes a step and it leaves little to the imagination about which side he ‘dresses’ on. My breath comes out in a little “hoh” and a little shiver goes up my spine. His head turns towards the sound and his face lights up.  That beautiful smile is directed at me and suddenly I am engulfed in a bear hug. “Oh baby, I missed you,” his voice so sincere, is buried in my neck.

“Me too, babe” my voice is muffled by his coat. I can smell the new fragrance on him that he is here to shoot for, at least that is what I assume it is, plus just Austin, clean gorgeous Austin. Then something new tickles my nose and I catch a whiff of the warm leather… oh lord. 

My head tilts up and the press of his lips sparks a tightness in my belly. My hands can’t help but slide over the smooth roundness of his ass under that long gorgeous coat. The leather of his pants stretches just perfectly over him and feels so soft against my hand. I let out a little groan that is just for him.  I feel his hips press forward into mine just a little. I know that I am not going to be able to stay quiet for long pressed up against him like this.

He breaks the relatively chaste kiss and hugs me close.

“‘m working, lil’ darlin’,” his Elvis voice quiet in my ear, lordy he knows how much it turns me on, ”and these here pants aren’t exactly roomy, but I’ll bring ‘em with after, ifnya wan’.”

A quiet moan shakes my throat.  I pull away to look him in the face, no trace of the southern sex god, just a sweet smile.  God he is good.

I just nod, and smile, knowing my voice will betray me. My legs feel wobbly and the thought of that leather just sets my blood on fire.

I watch him quietly from the corner, my panties getting wetter with each new turn of his face, each new smolder he produces. Then my heart melts as he suddenly breaks character and laughs his adorable shy laugh. There is no doubt in my mind that I am the luckiest girl in the whole world. 

As the afternoon shoot progressed I found myself hornier and hotter than I had ever thought possible. It's Austin, of course, and it's the fucking leather. 

They had let him keep the pants as well as the black lace tank and see-through shirt he had on at the end. The designer shot a slight glance towards the door where I was leaning,  before nodding at Austin with a knowing smile. We left with me wondering how long I could keep my hands off him.   

During dinner I was barely able to eat. I was so distracted by the leather and the lace shirt. Austin, always the gentleman in public, pretended not to notice but would sneak in  a ‘honey’ or  ‘darlin’ with his Elvis-laced tongue just to see the effect it had on me. By the end of dinner, I am struggling to think straight and he knows it. 

After what seems to me an eternity, the soft susurration from his leather pants drifts to my ears as he stands ready to head back to the hotel. I don’t give them any outward attention as we pass store fronts,  but I am beyond excited. The restaurant we stopped at for dinner was only a few blocks from the hotel, so we decided to walk. Miraculously, there are no paps, no fans and it’s like we are just a couple out for a stroll. His thumb rubs my knuckles as we walk.

My mind keeps straying to the little surprise I have for Austin that is hanging on the back of the bathroom door in our suite. That he just happened to be wearing a matching outfit seemed the most delicious serendipity.   We are hand in hand, walking down the street, my mind totally captivated by the hot man beside me. This weekend is all about rekindling and what better way to do it than with sexy, leather-clad Austin/Elvis. After all, the ‘68 comeback special was my favourite of all Austin’s Elvis scenes. I briefly wonder if he even knows. 

Back in our room. I excuse myself to the bathroom, asking Austin to make a drink, bartender’s choice. Quickly I strip down and make sure all my bits and parts are clean and fresh. I don’t know if either of us will be in the mood for ass play, but I like to be ready. I buckle and zip and wiggle into my little surprise. I run a brush through my hair, then take a moment to really look at my reflection. 

My curves are a sight to behold, the buckles across my front almost intimidating. My ample cleavage spilling out. I had refused to give in to the social media pressure about my figure. I am curvy, I am healthy and I love myself. What’s more, Austin loves my figure and the fact that I know myself.

“Remember, your confidence is the sexiest thing about you,” he had whispered into my ear just before our first public red carpet appearance. Those words echo in my ears as I look at my sexy self. 

I step from the bathroom to find Austin sitting on the low-slung designer couch in our suite. He is leaning back, manspreading in the most beautiful way. His hands are full of drinks, one for each of us.  His eyes are closed, his head back, having just taken a sip of the pina colada in his hand. He takes a big breath and just lets himself relax. I take a moment to appreciate again just how gorgeous this man is and just how lucky I am that he is mine. I step to him, taking my drink from his hand. He pats the couch next to him without opening his eyes. I sip through the straw, watching him. When I don’t sit, he cracks one eye, then they both go wide in surprise. 

“Fuck," he breathes.

He drinks me in, from the bonings, busk, and buckles that cross my torso, to the globes of my breasts barely contained by the taut black leather. He follows my curves over the tight leather mini that I ‘could’ wear out in public, if I never walked, sat or, heaven forbid, tried to bend over. Then his eyes travel down my legs to the crisscrossed barefoot ties around my calves. I don’t think heels are good for real sex play. We are all the same height lying down anyway. This is an outfit meant to be alluring, it is meant to portray an element of deviance. This is an outfit to be fucked in. 

He sits up a little, puts his drink aside and attempts to adjust himself, pulling at the material at his inner thigh. 

“Why, hello there lil’ leather Mama,” he drawls, “you goin’ my way?” His Elvis voice gives me tiny shivers and I giggle just a little, the straw in my mouth.

He scoots to the edge of the couch. His hand reaches out to slide over the swell of my hip and around the dip of my waist. He pulls me to him. 

“You had to have planned this. Did you know I was wearing leather today too, babe?” he asks. 

“No, I just…. wanted to do something a little different, see if it sparked you.” I set my drink next to his.

“Oh, you can consider me sparked, sweetheart.”  His fingers tracing the boning of the corset then behind me over the soft surface of my ass, “though ‘on fire’ is more like it.” 

He puts his arms around my middle hugging me tight. 

“Fuck I’ve missed you, missed this with you,” his blue eyes gaze up from my middle. I rake my fingers through his hair. He practically purrs. 

“Me too, baby,” I lean down and plant a kiss on him. 

“Mmm, bold yet sultry.  You gon’ be all mine t’night? Do whatevah I want? Be completely at my mercy?” he asks me with that fucking voice. He knows I’ll do anything for Elvis. It’s his secret weapon with me. 

“MmmHmmm,” I practically whine. 

“How long since you’ve cum, mama?” it floats from his lips so easily, just as his fingers float down the backs of my thighs, making me shiver.

“A couple days,” I shrug, noncommittally. It’s not like we ever talked about abstaining. 

“Oh you didn’t save all that up for me? Tch tch tch,” his tongue clicks. Now that he’s found something to pivot on, he slips further into a little roleplay. ”What a naughty girl. Well I saved up for you lil’ mama. So yer in for a ride, especially lookin’ like that. In fact,” he reaches behind the couch to the table there, ”I’ve got a little surprise of my own,’ he pulls out leather cuffs that buckle, they are connected by a chain maybe two feet in length. “Apparently we have been on the same wavelength. I wanted to spice things up too. And I think you could use a little… lesson in restraint.”

Holy. Shit.  My brain starts spinning in a freefall. How is it that, even though I am currently towering over him, wearing an entire outfit of domineering leather, Austin still commands me, still makes me weak in the knees. 

The cold chain brushes my bare leg as I hold my wrists out for him. As he does up the buckles, my pussy clenches.  It’s only now that I notice there are extra straps. He removes them from the chain and taps my legs apart and wraps one, then the other around my upper thighs.

“I think these are just the accessories this outfit needed,” he smiles up at me. 

My heart rate starts to speed up. I have always loved the intriguing dominance that leather imparts, however I never really told anyone my secret fantasy. Not even Austin. Honestly at what point in a new relationship do you bring up your possible kinks?  I had hoped, in bringing this outfit, it might open a door to talk about it. But to have him meet me on the threshold with his own leather? Damn. 

“Oh that is fucking hot,” he says leaning back to look me up and down, biting his lip. “Pull up your skirt a little, I want to see you.” 

I bunch up the hem with my fingers. I can tell I’m leaking, wetness cool on my inner thigh. 

“Dirty little Princess,” he says reprovingly, one finger running gently along the seam of my lips, ”are you already wet for me?” he pulls a long line of wetness away with this finger. Bringing it to his mouth, he sucks my juices off with a guttural ‘mmmmm’.  

He guides me back as he stands.  His hands come to my face, so tender, as he presses his lips to mine. I taste a hint of my own saltiness as his tongue plays on my own. My hands, still connected by a chain, run as best they can over his muscular thighs, over that hot fucking leather. A groan shudders, unbidden from my throat. 

“You like these do you?” he asks.

“Uh huh, and you in them,” I nod, biting my lip. 

“You want to touch?” He turns around, offering himself to my bound hands.

My god, the leather is buttery soft over his exquisite ass. He clenches a little and my palms slide into the hollow made by his glutes. 

“Oh my god you are so fucking fine,” I murmur. He looks over his shoulder with a little smirk. He is fully aware of his effect on me, if not the whole fucking world.  I continue to roam over his ass and down his legs. In the outlining of every muscle, my breath betrays me.  How did I get this lucky?

He turns around to face me.  My hand and eyes instinctively go to the tight fucking bulge on his right side crotch. I wonder if it’s hurting him, being so turned on. He tilts my head up with one finger on my chin. I look up at him, hoping he’ll kiss me again. His sexy downward gaze freezes me.

“Unbutton ‘em,” he says, his voice husky.

A little whimper escapes me before I can stop it. My hands are eager to comply, but they shake with anticipation. The cold metal of the chain dangles against my bare thighs. Austin’s fingertips are tracing curlicues on the mounds of my breasts as I undo his fly button, by button, by button. The leather appears to split open as I unfasten it and he seems to grow in size. He sighs in relief as he spills out.  His black underwear resemble a massive codpiece sticking out from the tightness of the leather.  

My mouth goes dry as the air seems to catch in my throat. My hips are pulsing in the air. Just the outline of his stiffness makes me want him inside me. 

“Please let me,” I am unable to finish the sentence because I don’t even know what I want him to let me do, I just want… him. 

Deciding what it is that I want, he nods, licking, then trapping, his bottom lip in his teeth. He tosses a pillow onto the floor. 

“Get on your knees, my dirty girl,” his eyes flash with passion. 

‘Oh fuck, okay,’ I think as I sink to my knees. His outer shirt flutters to the floor. The lace tank top hinting at his abs beneath. Oh god, I have no other words or thoughts, just thirst beyond belief.   

He pulls the waistband out and down, reaching in and pulling out his gorgeous cock and balls. Some might say “it’s big”.  I just think it’s fucking in perfect proportion with this limbs. He is long, long enough to fuck me from behind, despite my round ass,  and just thick enough to make me feel stretched but not hurt. Austin’s cock was made to fuck me and I want it. 

His inhale is slightly more pronounced as I run my hands up his thighs, the material like second skin now, warm and supple under my fingers. 

Framed in black, his cockstand is beckoning, bouncing just a little in front of my face. I lean in, rubbing my cheek along his soft length like a cat marking something with its scent.  His low moan rumbles in my ears. It really has been a while for him, if he is already moaning. 

The earthy smell of the real leather mixes with the pure scent of Austin and fills my nostrils as I press my nose into the leather at his hip. I inhale again, deeply, slowly; reveling in how good he smells. My outbreath a hot and low  ‘oh’ against his thigh. I can’t help but draw a wide wet tongue along the surface, just below the crease of his upper thigh.  As the tip of my tongue curls off the leather, I open my eyes to look up at him. His beautiful lips are parted, his breathing shallow and his eyebrows are ever so slightly pulled together. He is a feast for the senses.

Fuck me running, he is so damn gorgeous.  

I know how much he loves the sight of me on my knees in front of him and he knows just how much I love his cock in my mouth. Holding him gingerly with one hand, I turn my head and work my lips up the side of his cock. I love how soft the skin is just before I make him wet. 

A clear drop of salty dew is perched at his tip. He knows this is one of my favorite moments and lets me play.  I nestle my legs under me, almost as if my tail is wagging.  I hold him gently with both my hands, the chain clinking against my belly. The tip of my tongue darts out to touch the tiny globe of precum. I pull it back into my mouth with a string of moisture. My eyes close for a moment. I rub it against the roof of my mouth, letting it coat my tongue as I moan.  I lap at the hole in his tip slowly and with tiny kitten licks, coaxing out as much fluid as I can. I can feel my pussy pulsing. I can hear his shaky breath above me. 

“Fucking hell,” his fingers comb through my hair, “how do you make even the tiniest movement so fucking hot?”  

I know exactly what he wants my mouth to do and what he wants to do to my mouth.  

I smile around his tip and pull saliva to the tip of my tongue, making a show of spreading it over my lips.  My lips glide over his head, spreading spit. Slowly I pull back with a dragging suction, kissing off his tip. 

“Oh fuck” his hand fists and releases in my hair. He knows he has to wait just a little longer, has to let me play with his cock for a little, before I’ll be ready for what he wants. 

I glide down again over his tip. My tongue licks his underside, dragging him deeper and deeper. Just before he hits my soft palate, I suction back off of him. I moan, I love the feel of him on my tongue, against the underside of my lips. 

“Oh fuuu,” he moans, ”I forgot how good…Ohhhhh!” 

He can’t finish his thought because I’m diving down his cock, letting him slide along my soft palate and into the back of my throat. I gag just a little and pull back, leaving thick saliva in my wake. My hand wraps around his shaft in the viscous fluid. Then I start working him, sliding my hand along his shaft in time with my mouth. I push him to the back, fucking my throat on his tip before I gag again, pulling him out. I do this a few times more, really warming up my throat. 

“I love that lil’ sound, baby,’  his hand tightens down in my hair, holding my head still, he wraps the chain once around his other hand. “M gonna fuck that talented mouth now. You ready?” 

I just stick my tongue out, flicking  in the air. I want him in me, anywhere in me. 

“That’s my good girl, take it” he pushes in, my tongue doing summersaults against his hardness. He thrusts once, twice, three times against the middle of my tongue before pushing in even deeper. I feel my throat close around  him, my breath stopped as he plugs my airway with his big cock. He fucks in and out, moaning. I gasp when he pulls out, my spit dripping from his tip.  We are both panting slightly.  

“If I do that again, I think I’m gonna cum down your throat.” he says letting my head go, “and I’m not nearly done with you tonight.” 

I make a little pouty face. I know he can take more, even if it’s been a while. I also know, when he’s really excited, he can cum more than once, my sexy boy. 

“What, you want more sweetheart?” he smiles down at me, he is so good at reading me. He brushes stray strands of hair from my face. 

“You know how I like you in my mouth. You can handle it, just a little more, please?” I open my mouth wide and invitingly. I love edging him. 

“You think so?” he re-grips my hair. Fuck, no one does it like him; tight, but not achingly so. I think it’s his long fingers and how he wraps them into the bulk of my hair. 

He slides over my undulating tongue with a wicked smile on his face. He fucks my soft palate before he thrusts deep. I gag less this time. He pulls out slowly as I suck on him. 

He moans. 

Just before he’s all the way out, he rubs back and forth against my tongue. My hips move with a mind of their own, such is my oral fixation.  He pulls out quickly, stopping himself from painting my tongue. He immediately bends down, eyes intense, to kiss my dirty mouth. 

“Fuck you are so hot,” he says sitting back and pulling me to straddle him on the couch.  His sexy  leather clad legs rubbing soft against my inner thighs. 

My pussy is throbbing with want, with need. 

“Please fuck me,” I beg, grabbing for his cock to guide him into me.

“Oh no you don’t,” he pulls my hands away with the chain still wrapped around his fist. “You have to wait darlin’.” He smiles, Elvis-like as he pulls my hands down to my thighs. Opening the clasps on the straps, he clicks the cuffs to my thighs.  “I’m gonna play a little with you.” 

He rubs his hand back and forth along my wet pussy,  applying circular pressure with a flat hand over my pubis, teasing around my clit.

“Austin… fuck.” my face scrunches in pleasure as I grind a little onto his hand. 

“Hmmm you were naughty weren’t you, fucking yourself without me there to watch,” he reminds me of my supposed ‘transgression’. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to watch,” my eyebrow lifts, challenging him a bit. 

“Tell me what you did,” he asks, like a priest at confession. “And don’t lie, I’ll know.” He will too, I’m a terrible liar. 

“Oh,” he’s never asked me this before, what I do when he’s not there, ”you really want to know?” I say dropping the ‘naughty’ facade. My hips stop. I can feel the heat rising in my face.

He licks his lip and nods, “I do, don’t be embarrassed, babe, I think it’s hot.” 

I press my lips together, trying to decide if I should tell him my guilty pleasure, I don’t want to make him feel weird. He just waits. 

“I umm, well, I missed you. So I, uh, have a playlist of my favorite scenes... of you...,” I bite my upper lip. 

He raises an eyebrow and corner of his lip lifts. 

“And I …fantasize about you coming home from set and fucking me after each shoot.  The pink and black suit, the blue lace shirt, the first white jumpsuit, the black leather. Oh my god,  that leather does it every time.” I breathe out the last like a prayer as my eyes flutter closed. 

“Oh yeah?” he smiles, “I like that. What did you do to yourself to get off?” 

Good lord, just thinking about him being ok with this lubes me up. My hips begin moving back and forth against his hand again. 

 “I-um,” I’m feeling bolder now, “I put in my butt plug while using my vibrator on my clit.” 

“The butt plug huh?” his eyebrows shoot up, a little shocked. He only thought I used that when he was about to fuck my ass. 

I bite my lower lip and nod. Hoping he did not think this was too weird.

His eyes look down and to the right,  like he is rolling the thought over in his mind. 

“Well now," he brings his gaze back to mine, "in light of that new and intriguing information,  I think I know what your punishment is gonna be,” the smile on his lips is full of devilry. “You want me to slide this hard cock into that beautiful pussy, yes?” he pushes his hips into mine.

“Oh, Yes, please,” I breathe out, grinding down on his shaft. 

“Would that make you cum, baby?” he asks unnecessarily. He knows his cock is like magic for me. No one else I’ve ever been with has always hit me just right to make me come undone so thoroughly. Like I said, he was made to fuck me. 

I nod again, my poor lower lip. 

The chuckle that emanates from his chest combined with the look in his eye makes me shiver.

“Ok, you don’t get to cum until after I do.”

This is unusual. Austin is adamant about making me cum first, second and sometimes third before he’ll let loose. Sometimes it’s a fucking marathon, literally. 

He grabs the lube, dripping it onto his cock. Is he gonna jerk off right here with me in his lap? I’ve never watched him pleasure himself. I’m not sure how I feel about that, until I see him spreading the clear liquid over his shaft. Oh holy fuck is he hot. I mean really, is there anything he does that isn’t hot AF. 

“Is everything back here,” he rubs a big circle around my ass with one hand, “all clean and ready for me?” 

“Oh yes,” he knows how particular I am about sex hygiene.

“Good, lift up, baby,” he taps my leg. 

I rise up, he pulls me closer to him. Is he gonna fuck me afterall? 

Then he guides his lubed cock up the back of my skirt  and along my ass crack. The tight leather is smooth on his cock and holds him against me. Then, biting his lip, he starts moving.

My eyes go wide as his cock spears between my ass cheeks, spreading them apart. His head just teases my rosette. 

My fingers stretch toward my pussy, but just can’t reach, bound as they are to my thighs. 

“Yeah, I like this. You can't touch yourself, you get to feel my cock against you but not enough to get you off,” he smiles at me, “oh yeah. It’s like fucking you but not.”  

I let out a little whining moan. He feels good, but he’s right, not quite good enough. 

The leather of my skirt groans softly as his tip presses against it on the end of his stroke. 

His big hands grip my corseted waist, guiding me to move up and down. My breasts heaving in the leather corset. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he moans. I do my best to move without him falling out.

I don’t know if it’s enough to make him cum. I arch my back and his head is rubbing against my asshole. I’m so fucking turned on. My pussy is literally dripping onto the lace tank. If I go down far enough I get a little sensation on my vulva from the slap against his washboard abs. Abs which he is conveniently flexing so I don't wind him as I bounce up and down on him.

He reaches around behind me and presses his hand to my crack, pushing his cock harder against me. 

We both groan. It feels delicious. 

“Can you feel it baby?” I ask as I bounce hard. 

He just nods, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Let me feel it, Austin, please?” I beg, clenching and unclenching my bound fists.

“No touching that pussy, now,” he says as he unclasps my hands and we both stop moving.

I reach back with one hand but the chain stops me. I raise both hands over my head and around my back.The chain is just long enough and I’m just flexible enough to get both hands back there, however my tits spill out over the top of my corset. I press both hands against the swell at the top of my crack and rub experimentally.

“Careful,” he moans. Apparently it is enough to make him cum.

I slide up and down, feeling the head of his cock  against my palms as I do. It’s hotter than I would have thought.  I move faster, pushing my hands into my ass and his dick against my asshole. Austin leans forward and starts feasting on my nipples, sucking them into his mouth hungrily. I pause for a second to readjust my footing. 

“Fuck babe, I’m so close,” he moans, my nipple still in his mouth. He thinks I stopped on purpose to edge him. 

“How close,” I smirk at him, leaning into the idea.

He just growls, grabs the chain on either side of my hips and pulls. The tension makes my palms push hard against my sacrum. He holds me there as he plunges himself fast and hard into my leather covered cleft. I love seeing him this worked up, so dire. He is infinitely hotter when he’s ramming home into me, even like this. 

Fuck me,  I’m so worked up. His restraint of me, the friction of his cock against my ass, the feeling of his plunging against my hands. Suddenly, I’m closer than I realized. 

“Fuckin’ cum on my ass,”  I urge him on. 

He grunts and freezes, his teeth clenched. I feel a little warm wetness against my asshole.  He takes deep breaths in and out.   

“Yeah baby” I try to milk him up and down, but his hands are like iron on my hips.

He looks up at me intensely and shakes his head no as he inhales deeply. 

I have no idea what he is doing.

He lets go of the chain and rips the skirt up around my waist then he reaches up over his shoulder and pulls the now wet tank top off over his head. His naked chest is peppered with little blonde hairs, the muscles rippling as he moves. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this man sets new heights of what it means to be objectively hot. 

“Spread them cheeks. I want t’ finish in your ass,” and there is that subjective hotness, burning a fucking hole in my ear with that voice.

I reach back and check on the lube situation. Holy fuck, I realize that he just stopped mid orgasm so he could fuck my ass because there is definitely cum back there. 

“That’s gonna make me cum baby,” I warn him.

“Uh huh,” he nods, leaning up to kiss me. His mouth is insistent in capturing mine. 

A smile spreads across my lips as I guide his cock to my ass. He holds still, knowing it’s better if I do all the moving at first. What cum he let out is mixing with the lube. I relax my sphincter, going slow so that I can adjust without it hurting. I slide up and down a few times doing my own deep breathing and watching him concentrate on not moving. I know he wants to. I know he wants to rail into me, fill me with his cum. I want it too. 

When I feel ready, I nod to him. A slow, deviant smile creeps along his lips as he grabs the chain again. Pulling it tight across my back, my hands trapped again. His hips thrust up as the chain pulls me down.  Oh holy fuck he feels amazing. 

“Oh hoh hoh” I exhale. My eyelids flutter as I pull in a shaky breath. 

“Do you like that?” his nostrils flare. 

“Oh god yes,” I moan out. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he thrusts slow, ”taking me so well in your sweet little ass.”  He pulls away one hand to brush a wild shock of hair out of my face. I capture his first and middle fingers in my mouth, sucking on them. He mimics the thrusts of his cock on my tongue. My freed tits jiggling as he fucks my ass. 

“Is it good? Are you gonna cum for me?” he whispers at me. Apparently abandoning the ‘you have to wait’ scenario. 

I have no idea how he isn’t creaming my ass right now, he so fucking amazing.  

“Or does this pussy need a lil’ something?” he pulls his fingers from my mouth and contorts his hand to slide two fingers into my pussy. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” I moan. 'Good' isn’t a strong enough word to describe what he is doing to my body, to my soul. 

“C’mon my good little cum slut,” his fingers are flexing back and forth in my pussy. God I love being his good little slut. “Cream those fingers baby,” he urges me. 

My orgasm starts low in my belly winding a figure eight around his dick moving in my ass and his fingers dancing in my cunt. Then like a whirling zip toy it yanks free and I’m screaming, my limbs curling inward, my fingers clawing into my thighs. My insides are pulsing around him as he pulls out his fingers. He rubs my clit fast back and forth, making me buck and writhe on him, screaming gibberish. 

He fucks my ass in earnest, racing to fill me up. 

“Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah.” he chants in time with his thrusts, using the chain as leverage again, “so fucking hot when you cum.” 

I am so far gone, all I can do is moan over and over on his lap. I fucking love it. 

His voice rips from his throat in a growling scream as he pushes deep, his hips shaking from effort. 

I feel him pulsing into me as his spine curls him forward with little jerking motions. His panting breath hot on my breasts. He flops back against the couch, gorgeous chest heaving in satisfaction. I wilt awkwardly forward, without the use of my hands, shaking and shivering. 

“Oh my sweet baby” he pants. Quickly unhooking the chain from one wrist. I wrap my arms around his neck and he holds me sweetly, tenderly, his dick still pulsing in my ass. 

“I got you, princess, I got you,” he intones in my ear while rubbing my back. 

"That was... wow, so good Aus," I praise, once my breath is recovered, still leaning on his naked chest.

"Heh heh, agreed," he chuckles. "So, leather, eh?" he says with an audible smirk. 

I sit back to look him. He levels that sexy fucking gaze at me. 

"Uh, well I was kinda...." I shrug, completely distracted by him, "but now... on you? Oh yeah, oh hell yeah." I involuntarily clench down on him. 

He pulls me toward him into a passionate kiss. Once isn't going to be enough... with him I could never get enough. 

Needless to say, it was a glorious fucking weekend. We even got to see a little of Mexico City.