Ratcig - Mentally Disturbed

Absolutely captivated by this very specific type of image

The Devil's Hour:

"Eat me, drink me"

A Halloween Special

Dark!Billy Russo x Dark!Aleksander Morozova x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Dub/non-con, threesome, double penetration, mild gore? Idk, there is blood.

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

“Please”

Your plea was barely more than a croak, a weak, broken thing teared off from your raw, abused throat. Whether you were begging for them to stop or to go on, you didn't know anymore.

And truth be told, it didn't matter either way, mercy was not something the creatures holding you hostage in your pretty golden cage were capable of anymore, any trace of empathy, of humanity, purged out of them centuries ago.

They had been torturing you, edging you for hours, and then making you come until they had burned all the fight out of you. Until pain and pleasure were blurred together. Until yes and no had started to mean the same thing.

They had broken you. Just like they had promised.

"Please…" You sobbed, a pathetic, heart wrenching sound that would have moved any man.

Too bad the beings keeping you prisoner were not men.

Still, the one in front of you raised his head from your cunt, beard glistening, stained with your juices, proof that, as much as you had fought them, kicking and screaming, as much as you had cried at the beginning, a part of you had to be enjoying what they were doing to you…

Right?

Dark eyes met his twins over your shoulder,

"Maybe we should stop, Aleks" His voice sounded sincere, but you couldn't shake the feeling you were being mocked "Maybe it is too much…"

"Our girl is strong, Billy" A soft, almost loving voice reached you from behind and a pair of pale, strong arms adjusted their iron like grip around you. It was a futile gesture, you were way too weak where you laid, your back fitted between the v of his legs, head pillowed by his chest, to fight back anymore. Way too spent, way too sated, way too used, nothing but a ragdoll. "She can take it"

“No, please, I can’t take anymore…” you pleaded. Aleks smiled against your hair, breathing you in, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head,

“But I think you can, malyshka," The russian endearment fell from his lips honey sweet, "I think you still have a couple more orgasms in you. And we want every. Single. One. Of them…” He punctuated every word with tiny, deceptively innocent pecks to the top of your head, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he could reach with his lips.

“Whatever you say, big brother" Billy smirked, not needing any further convincing, slotting himself between your legs, entering you in a single long, hard stroke. You turned your head to the side, unwilling to see his beautiful face scrunch with the pleasure he was getting out of it, out of your pliant body but unwilling soul.

“No, don’t close your eyes” Aleks chastised you, grabbing your face, forcing you to meet his brother's eyes. “You will watch him, all the time. You will watch us take what’s ours. Am I understood, malyshka?”

You nodded, opening your eyes, watching as Billy's mouth fell open in a silent "oh" through wet lashes. He was identical to his brother, down to the freckle under his right eye, and every inch as gorgeous: long, lithe but muscular body, pale skin, eyes dark as night, face of an angel…

You cursed their pretty faces, you wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn't for them. That was how they had lured you, how they had gotten you alone at the bar. You hadn't wanted to go with them, not really… except you did. One look into those obsidian orbs, and you had been overwhelmed but this strange desire to please them, your body doing as they said even as your mind rebelled inside.

Your friends hadn't noticed anything wrong, of course they hadn't. What woman wouldn't want to be the center of attention of two hotties like those anyway?

They had taken you right there, in the alley outside of the bar, for the first time. Billy pinning your arms behind your back as Aleksander slid his cold, cold hand into your jeans and fingered you, kissing away your tears, chanting praises at you, telling you how tight you felt, how soft and hot and wet inside, how he couldn't wait to feel you around his cock. And just when you had thought it couldn't get any worse, that your fate couldn't get any blacker, Billy's teeth had pierced your skin, right above your breast, and he had drank from you.

“How does she feel, William?” Aleksander questioned, right before twisting your head to capture your mouth in a painful kiss that made your lips bleed.

“Perfect,” Billy moaned, hips pounding into you erratically. He was close “She feels perfect, you know that, Sasha”

Aleks hummed his approval into your lips, releasing them only to lap at the blood staining them.

“Delicious too” He cooed, knuckles caressing your cheek, “So sweet, sweetest little morsel I’ve ever tasted… Is she tight, Billy?"

"Yes… So so tight…"

"Does our little doll need stretching?" He hummed, thoughtful, hand dipping lower, to where his brother was disappearing inside of you. You shook your head, the feeling of Aleksander's finger slipping in with Billy's cock enough to break their thrall.

"Nonononono please, pleasepleaseplease"

"Shhhhh" Billy soothed you, holding your chin up so he could look you in the eye, "It's ok, baby doll, you can take it, can't you?" You could feel your will vanishing, your body going slack against Aleksander's chest, "you can take the both of us like a good girl… Don't you wanna be our good girl?"

"We can help you, teach your body how to take us" said Aleks, adding another finger as his twin started moving his hips again, slowly, leisurely, making you feel every delicious, punishing inch.

"Fuck, Sasha!"

Aleksander's hand was lighting fast, striking his brother on the cheek.

"Watch your mouth in front of our little lady"

Billy simply smirked, clearly enjoying the little bit of pain with his pleasure,

"Whatever you say, boss" He snaked his arms around you, taking you from Aleks, sitting up so he could perch you on his lap. Aleksander bared his fangs at him "I think she's ready" Billy quickly declared, succeeding in deflecting his brother's wrath.

"Are you sure? I don’t want her to feel any pain as I turn her, only pleasure for our perfect girl.”

"I'm sure" Billy confirmed, your own protests going unheard as they manhandled you, trapping you between their bodies, positioning you to their liking.

And then it began.

The stretch was unlike anything you had ever felt as they lowered you, impaling you on their identical cocks little by little, taking turns moving their hips in a well practiced dance, one retreating as the other thrusted another inch in, until they were both buried to the hilt.

Aleksander's hands were everywhere, stroking your arms, your chest, your back, comforting you as Billy kissed away your tears.

"So good for us..."

"Our precious girl..."

"...Milaya devushka"

"Pretty girl, so good for us… fucking perfect…" It was Billy, the first to break, the first to start rocking, to tear a moan from your swollen lips. "Yeah, just like that, just give in… isn't it so much better when you stop fighting us?"

It was. Heavens help you, it was. Your head felt back against Aleksander's shoulder, and he wasted no time in latching onto your neck, sucking a path of purple bruises.

"Aleks" You sighed, feeling his smile against your skin. At least until his brother, ever jealous, demanded your attention by licking at your nipple "... Billy!"

"Yeah, just like that, baby doll, say my name like that again…" His hips gained speed, forcing his brother to match his pace until they were both fucking you in earnest, bouncing your body between them, their perfect little fucktoy. Your cries grew louder.

"Does it hurt, malyshka?"

You nodded your head. Billy nodded with you, mockingly.

"Where does it hurt? Where we're fucking this little cunt?" His hand cupped your core, thumb sliding on your clit, tracing little half circles that had you crying even harder, "I think you're lying… I think you like it"

You tried to shake your head, but he was having none of it.

"You say one thing… but your body says another. I can feel your pussy squeezing us, princess. This greedy little cunt… sucking us in… Sasha feels it too, don't you, brother?"

Aleksander's head had fallen against your shoulder, thrust starting to lose their rhythm.

"Yes… so tight… strangling my cock… begging for more…"

"Oh, we're gonna give it more… fill it up with our come… till it's leaking us all over the sheets… and then… we gonna fuck our come right back in…"

"It's time, little brother…" Aleks swept your hair off your shoulder, placing a long, filthy lick up the side of your neck. You obeyed his silent command, turning your head, giving him more space. That’s when you felt them, dry, hard and long, puncturing your skin, setting every nerve of your body on fire, galaxies of sparks bursting behind your eyelids. Stuffed to the brim with their cocks, it was Aleksander's fangs what made you come one final time.

You were still trembling with the aftershocks of the earthquake, the world shattering orgasm, when Billy pushed his wrist into your mouth, something warm and sweet, delectable and addictive filling your mouth, invading your senses. You hungrily sucked, making Billy hiss.

Something inside you sang at the sound, basking in the little bit of pain you caused him after all he had done to you.

But, voracious as you were, Aleksander still sucked your blood faster, making you lightheaded, your grip on Billy's wrist going slack.

As the life was drained out of you, you felt him place one last kiss on your numb lips, as he whispered,

“Welcome to the family, little sister.”

ADHD is spending your whole life being told that you’re not doing your best and that you could do better if you tried harder and worked harder until you believe it yourself, becoming convinced that your your best work is actually only your average, and there’s a mythical, hypothetical, never-before-seen Your Best, which is surely the work of gods.

So you end up with this inflated ego and stalwart belief that you should be capable of curing cancer, discovering new planets, composing new opera pieces to take the world by storm, if you only tried harder. But for some inexplicable reason, you simply won’t put your mind and focus on it, and now you hate yourself for not being the spectacular specimen you were taught you ought to be.

And that’s why you end up having these conversations with your therapist where they are like “normal people don’t put this kind of demands and expectations on themselves”, and you dead seriously fucking answer

“Yes, but I’m not normal people.”

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐢‘𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭.

ncis

csi

blue bloods

the mysteries of laura

major crimes

the closer

hawaii five-o

rizzoli and isles

the chicago code

law and order: svu

criminal minds

how to get away with murder

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 5 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧‘𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐜 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥

dark dilf delinquent season cillian lusting after the new neighbors daughter; who not so coincidentally has a penchant for undressing with her curtains open 🫣 & sneaking in guys who kinda (definitely) maybe resemble cillian? from her club nights 😭

he’s dark & like kinda pathetic but we love him anyway

i feel like this is too specific but I can’t get the thought out of my head 🥲

it is very specific but I'm not mad, and I love writing a pervert <3 but a dilf AND a pervert?! yes please!! obviously I love this concept cause I went a liiiiitle overboard with it, oops...

length: 3.3k

warnings: m and f masturbation, voyeurism, slightly dark but not very much, unspecified age gap, infidelity

When it first started, he really was just trying to read. It wasn't his fault that the book was boring, or that your curtains were open, or that he caught a glance of you in your window.

It was innocent then, too— he liked watching you do normal things, like put on jewelry or laugh on the phone with a friend. It made him smile... he wasn't sure why, but it just made him feel a little better after a long day, seeing you up there, reminiscing on his younger days as he got a distant view of yours...

But it had been months since it started, and it was far from innocent now. He'd become an expert at compartmentalizing the shame; he'd become addicted to the cycle, to the watching and the waiting and the sick anticipation— not to mention the fear that someday, you'd notice him watching. The fear, and yet, the hope.

"Fuck," he panted under his breath as he wanked himself— not too fast yet, but certainly much faster than the slow and teasing strokes he liked to start off with. You were taking off your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding your arms in that crazy origami way girls do that he'd never totally understood; he bit his lip as his eyes dragged over your back, trying to imagine how it would feel to run his fingers up your spine until you arched it just right—

He heard the kids yell downstairs and he stopped for a second, heart pounding with nervousness as he feared they might come up and knock at the door. He used to only do this when they were gone... but he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, a perfect view of you stripping in the window.

The noises stopped and his movements started again, fisting his cock with a stifled groan as you reached behind your back and undid the clasp; even having seen your tits probably a dozen times by now, his mouth was slack and dry in anticipation of you turning around and letting him see them again.

You teased him for a while longer, messing with your hair and stretching your arms up until he found himself mumbling between panting breaths: c'mon, baby, show me— lemme see, sweetheart, fuck, please...

Sort of like willing a stoplight to turn green, it's obviously not possible but it will work at some point: you turned and faced the window, your eyes shut with a sigh as you started to open your jeans. He had to grip his cock's leaking head tight just then, too overwhelmed with the view of your breasts— he was afraid to come too soon.

He'd never had to hold himself back like this before, never delayed his gratification— because, normally, it's totally antithetical to the point of masturbation. He only ever jerked off for the gratification, and he only ever watched porn to help get there a little faster... but you, you were so much better than porn. The thrill of doing something wrong, the longing of knowing you (if not very well) in real life, the lack of control over you and being, in a sense, at your mercy as you undressed as slow as you wanted... it was all just terribly erotic. And he refused to let himself come until you let him see a little more.

You slid your jeans down your legs and he actually bit his lip, just to muffle his moan. "Yes," he whispered to himself, cock pulsing in his grip as he watched you step out of them, turning around to lay them over your bed— and giving him the perfect view of your ass in those cute cotton panties as you did it. "Fuck," he grunted, twisting his hand over his tip and feeling his hips jerk instinctively— he couldn't think of the last time he was so sensitive. "See what you do to me?" he chuckled to himself— he wished you could see it, but then again, he had his lights off in the room for a reason. All you could see was a dark window, and for now, he preferred to keep it that way.

You laid back on your bed, looking relaxed and contented as you ran your hand down over yourself— fuck, is she about to--?

You slipped your hand into your panties, and he tilted his head back with a heavy sigh, only allowing himself a second to shut his eyes as his balls tightened up, threatening to blow it all right then and there. He'd never actually seen you touch yourself before— though he had seen you take a vibrator out of your bedside drawer and, infuriatingly, go to take a shower where you presumably got to use it with complete privacy. The image in his head had been plenty to get off on that night, but seeing you now as your fingers moved under the thin fabric, your lips opening for what he hoped was a quiet little moan? It was almost too much to bear.

You spread your legs a bit, the angle giving him a hint of a view of what you were doing; he sat up in the chair, leaning to the side a bit, desperate for a better look at how you were touching yourself. Were you just rubbing your clit, or were you going to put a finger or two inside? "Baby," he panted to himself, watching your tits get harder as your hand moved, "baby... y-yeah, just like that, fuck..."

The sight of you playing with yourself was just too beautiful; he had to keep reminding himself to shut his mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise, but then it would just fall right back open again as you arched your back.  

“Feels good?” he noticed, raking his gaze over every sign of your pleasure.  “Tell me how good it feels…”

He wanted to imagine your voice, then, the way you’d respond to him: feels so good, Cill.  You’d never actually called him that, you always called him Mr. Murphy.  He tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, but anyways, he couldn’t conjure your voice in his head anyways.  He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since you’d babysat for him and his wife… he tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, either.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you took your hand out of your panties and expanded your cheeks with a big sigh; he knit his eyebrows together, watching you roll over and grab your phone off of the nightstand by your bed.  His sicker side instantly assumed you were going to find some porn to watch, but your lackadaisical attitude about the whole thing made it seem more like you’d had a sudden mid-masturbation urge to check Instagram.  Kids and their phones, he thought to himself, even though you were far from a kid— he was just much, much further from one than you were, is all…

And, this should come as no surprise by now… that turned him on too.  He’d come to be weirdly fascinated by his own perversion, finding it just as shameful as he did sexy.

His phone vibrated on the desk and his screen lit up— he wasn't going to answer it at first, nothing was more important than watching you right now... but then it went off again. He looked at it and back at you, seeing you getting up suddenly and walking around the room... surely you hadn't come already? It certainly didn't look like it.

Even though he couldn't imagine why you'd stopped so abruptly, he figured it was a good opportunity to make sure the messages weren't important. He awkwardly got up and grabbed his phone, feeling a bit strange about walking around with his jeans open and his erection poking out. Unlocking his phone to read whatever was sent, he felt a massive sigh leave his chest as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

He never even saved your number, but he recognized the previous conversation you'd had-- just a few texts back and forth about a little backyard gathering your parents were having, and some question about when you needed to come over to watch the kids, but you usually messaged his wife about that kind of stuff.  But since he’d committed those brief conversations to memory, it took him only a split-second to know it was you— and, obviously, seeing that you'd just texted him, he thought his heart might just stop right then.  He had to blink some blurriness out of his vision to even read them, with how fast the damn thing was beating.

hi mr. murphy.

turn on the lamp on the desk.

He whipped his head around to look back at you, only to find you smiling around a bitten lower lip, staring right into his window.  Fuck.  Fuck!

He set his phone down, not sure what to do— and quickly locking the screen as he realized you’d probably seen the glow of it.  He groaned softly again as he watched you sit down on your bed again, facing directly towards him, those pretty legs spreading nice and slow as your hand moved over your panties again.  Fuck.

He felt like he was in a dream or something as he flipped on the lamp— maybe it was an out of body experience.  If he was out of his own body, he at least knew whose he wanted to get into: he never took his eyes off you as he slowly walked back to his chair, sitting back down in it and meeting your half-lidded gaze as you tossed your phone away and used your free hand to toy with one of your hard nipples.  “Fuck,” he said aloud this time, seeing your eyes trail down to his cock— it was still out, of course, sticking up proudly against the black shirt covering his stomach.  Maybe it was proud, but he was a little bit terrified, his face getting hot as he snatched the throw pillow nearby to cover himself with; he saw you laugh, sighing through his nose dreamily as he wished he could hear the sweet sound of it, and then shake your head with a grin.

You stood up then, turning around and bending over as you ever-so-slowly pulled your panties down, making him purr as he got a thorough look at your bare ass.  You looked too damn good bent over like that— what he would give to stand behind you, pushing your shoulders down with one hand as he gave that cute arse a good spank with the other—

He saw you looking back at him, a proud smirk on your face; “Dirty girl,” he scolded under his breath, watching you stand up straight and sit on the bed again.

Your legs were pressed tightly together, and when he look up to your eyes, he found them focusing on the pillow in his lap; you met his gaze again, a pink tongue darting gently over your lips.  A silent promise: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.  With the way it made his heart pound and his palms clammy, he felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He grabbed the pillow and slowly moved it away, your legs opening at the same pace in perfect time with it; he groaned through a tight jaw as he stared at your pussy, one of your hands running down to spread the sticky lips even wider for him.  “Fuck,” he moaned, holding onto his cock tightly again as he felt totally helpless to the sight of it, unable to look away.  “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled, starting to stroke himself as you bit your lip again and rubbed your clit with two fingers— the nails still had that baby pink polish, the one he’d watched you paint on a few nights ago.  Why was something as simple as that so sexy?

Your mouth fell open, and your head tilted back; he tried to imagine how you’d sound, your sweet voice a little darker and deeper with pleasure.  You rubbed yourself a little faster, a little harder, and he felt his lips curl into a sneer.

“Good girl, like that,” he panted, “play with it for me.  Play with that cute little cunt— f-fuck, yes—”

You looked at him again, eyes glued to his cock, and he felt it flex in his grip as if it wanted to wave to you; he saw you smile, an oddly sweet smile for something so dirty, and he watched your fingers slide down to your tiny, seeping opening.  He nodded in encouragement, watching your face fall into a shockingly innocent gasp as you slid a finger into yourself.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, “y-yeah, s’it warm inside, sweetheart?  Bet you’re so fucking tight, baby, I know your pussy is so goddamn tight—”

You pumped the single finger in and out, head falling back for a moment, and he squeezed his cock tight again to try to hold back another close call— he’d feel pretty stupid coming so fast with you watching, but he’d been doing this a lot longer than you had… fuck, how long had you known he was watching you?

Your mouth opened wider as you pushed another finger into yourself, and his hips shifted roughly in the chair, his hand moving faster as he growled.  “Fuck, it’s not enough, is it?” he hissed.  “Two little fingers isn’t enough— you need my cock, fuck, you need my fuckin’ cock— I’d fill you so good, sweetheart, I’d be so fuckin’ deep inside you—”

He was almost bucking up into his own hand now, his whole body suddenly pulsing with energy— it was a good thing you weren’t here now, even if he wanted it more than anything: he would’ve treated you awfully if he could’ve gotten his hands on you, fucking you hard and rough, tossing you around, pinning you down… he needed you so bad, he couldn’t imagine having the patience for anything but one of those nasty, fast, rough, animalistic fucks.  He’d fucking ruin you right now, if he could.

You were rough about it, too— roughly pinching and tugging on your tits, roughly fucking yourself on your fingers… you even pulled your hand out and gave your clit a little smack at one point, and he choked on his loudest moan yet as your body jolted.

“Dirty fucking slut,” he growled, “fuck, come for me.  Please, baby, I need to come, I need to fuckin’ come—”

You were saying something, obviously he couldn’t hear a damn word of it, but the shape of your lips made him pretty damn sure you were chanting over and over: yes, yes, yes—

“Come, baby,” he begged, knowing he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, “let me see— show me how you come, sweetheart, show me that pretty face when you come on your fucking fingers— soak them, honey, come for me—”

You were shaking all over, legs quivering and tits bouncing with the force of it— you pulled your fingers out and he could fucking see it, see that cute little hole flexing, and obviously he was done for pretty much instantly.  He moaned roughly as hot ropes of come painted his shirt, rolled down his shaft and shaking fingers, one drop even finding its way down his balls which was sort of pleasantly ticklish…

You looked so gorgeous coming like that, your hand and pussy all shiny with your arousal, your eyes heavy and your lips swollen from all the biting… he blinked quickly as he tried to catch his breath, letting go of his slowly-softening cock and leaning back into the chair.  You smiled at him; funny how, even now, that could make his heart skip.  He watched you stand up and wiggle your fingers in a cute little wave at him as you approached the window, and his tired smile fell quickly when you reached for the curtains.  “N-no, don’t go,” he pleaded softly, leaning forward as if he could stop you somehow, “please, wait—”

You slid them shut suddenly, and he whined a little as he fell back into the chair, running his (clean) hand over his face as he contemplated what he’d just done.  When his phone vibrated again, he jumped up to grab it, but frowned in disappointment when he saw it was from his wife.  Be home in a few, please come help with the groceries.

He tried to type a quick reply, only to grimace when he realized how filthy his hand was.  He wiped it off on his shirt— but his shirt was filthy, too.  Sighing, he set the phone down and took the whole thing off, balling it up to toss into the hamper, leaving him in just his undershirt.

Going straight back to his phone, he opened the conversation with you, praying to see that little grey bubble pop up or something; he started to type a few times, things like will I see you tomorrow? or come over next time the house is empty, but he always felt like an idiot and ended up erasing it.  He didn’t get a chance to think of a good thing to send before he heard a car pulling up in the driveway.  Shoving the phone in his pocket, he sighed and made his way downstairs, navigating around the pillow fort in the living room to get out the front door.

“Just help me with the bags in the boot, will you?” she asked him, not even looking at him, as she rifled through whatever was in the backseat.  He opened it, sighing as he looked at them.  Nothing like a bunch of brown bags to bring you back to reality.

His eyes widened when he heard his wife say your name, and he poked his head around the car to see you standing there, wearing a zip-up and leggings.  “Good evening, Mrs. Murphy,” you smiled, and he figured he looked like a deer in the headlights— if a deer could hold a paper sack full of pasta and biscuits— as your gaze fell on him.  “Hi, Mr. Murphy.”

He opened his mouth to try to respond, but nothing really came out; “Looks like you’re going for a run,” his wife noticed, saving him for the time being as your attention turned to her again. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “figured I could use some exercise.”

He cleared his throat, just a way to try to fight the lump forming in it, but it unintentionally caused both women to look at him again— once again, he found himself uselessly floundering for a response, and only getting out a soft ‘er’ before you said something.

“Aren’t you cold in just a t-shirt, Mr. Murphy?” you asked him, tilting your head.

“It’s fine,” he choked out, “I was feeling kind of hot anyway.”

You smiled at him, then waved goodbye to his wife as you pushed your earbuds in and continued walking down the street— you were acting so innocent that he started to feel like he’d dreamed up the whole thing.  

She probably saw him staring, watching you jog down the sidewalk, that ass looking terribly familiar covered by the athletic leggings; but she didn’t say anything, only shutting the car boot to get his attention as he finally carried the paper sacks into the house.  "She's sweet, isn't she?" she broke the moment of silence as they walked up the driveway together.

“I-I guess,” he tried to sound as non-committal as possible.

“You don’t think so?” she pressed, apparently noticing his cryptic answer.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe she’s not as sweet as she looks.”

Things you won't get unless you're a hardcore Batman fan:

- Do the butts match?

- Whelmed

- Nightwing's Butt

- Black hair? Blue eyes? Adopted.

- WHERE IS TIM?!

- Batman's dick. You know which comic I'm talking about

- Fuck Metropolis

- Eating burger with knife and fork

- "Man, Dick is good!"

- BATMAN DOES NOT EAT NACHOS

- (Points at Bruce and Clark) "And there was only one bed" "Oh my god, there was only one bed"

- "I am the GODDAMN Batman"

- They kept their masks on because its "better" that way

- Batman and Superman crying while watching aliens have sex

- That comic about the Joker's boners

- We live in a society

- Holy Musical Batman

- Bamboozled

- The mullet

- Actually, Dick's whole outfit. What the fuck was he thinking?

- Bruce Wayne lives in Batman's attic

- The demon child

- Starfish Robin

- Batman singing

- The Red Hood mask with a nose and mouth

- The Justice League? More like Batman and his bitches

- Bruce Wayne is a boomer. But like, in a cool way

- Adam West having a conversation with himself

- The rainbow suit

- The Snyder Cut

- Nightwing having his ass beat in every movie

- "Hello? Police? My son stole the Batmobile"

- Did Batman kill Joker in the Killing Joke?: The Debate

- BATMAN 👏🏻 DOES 👏🏻 NOT 👏🏻 KILL 👏🏻

- Except for those guys he hanged from the Batplane

- And KGBeast

- And Darkseid

- BUT THAT'S IT

- The myth of the Joker role turning you crazy

- Heath Ledger's scaring Maggie Gyllenhaal for real

- Is Batman a furry?: The Debate

- Every lesbian needs her cousin

- Who is Bruce's favorite Robin?: The Debate

- "The circus. He said it was the circus"

- Bruce being both the best and worst dad

- The fans killing Robin

- Plus the rigged telephone that actually did it

- Damian and his pets

- Duke being the only sane person around

- WHERE IS CARRIE KELLY?!

- The failed wedding

- Trying to guess what Thomas' letter from Flashpoint said

- Does Alfred get paid?: The Debate

- Ok, but Alfred and the rifle

- Bat-Mite

- Damian x Mar'i

- Damian x Raven

- Damian x Maps

- Dick's redhead fetish

- The Annie episode with Tim

- Every batfam member having a Super

- That Birds of Prey song... you know... the one

- Bat Credit Card

- Heart of Ice

- Bat Nipples

- Tim's caffeine addiction

- Tim adding fucking pants to the Robin suit

- "I don't want to be the Batman... anymore"

- Dead Robins Club

- Alfred having his own fanbase

- Only Jason and Alfred know how to cook

- Jason loves bread

- Dick loves cereal

- WHO THE FUCK IS IAN WAYNE?!

- Representation for Damian plz

- We all know Bruce's lovers come down to Selina, Diana or Talia (And Clark)

- The truth behind the Dark Knight hospital scene

- Apparently no Batfam member has finished school

- Tim vs Luthor

- Knowing the origins of every item in the Batcave

- WHERE IS TERRY MCGINNIS?!

- Gotham City Sirens

- "I am a model of mental health!"

- The Bruce Wayne x Batman fanfiction

- Contingency plans for everything

- Your relationships are shorter than Stephanie's career as Robin

- Batman comforting Ace

- And finally, having read the comic where this is from:

Feel free to add more.

Hello🌷 ,

I’m form Gaza 🇵🇸

My name is wesam

Can you please help me 🙏

Me and my family have lost our house 😞😞and my daughter need a special operation in the lower jhope you really can help us and thank you in advance 🌷🌷

https://gofund.me/4d233342

Signal boost

Wonderful Days by Masahisa Fukase, 1964

I’m so sorry, once more, with feeling, then I’m done— Yan!Din Djarin HCs, but focusing on when she finally gives in, and decides to try to love Din. Kissing him back, wrapping her arms around him when he hugs her, initiating affection herself, etc.

How many kids do they end up having after she’s finally in love? 🙈

No need to apologize! 🤬 I love these, it makes me feel validated 🤧

Hmmmm. It definitely started off slow. You didn’t want anything to do with him after you were initially taken. Purposely avoiding him in such a small space was not an easy feat, but once you started getting sick all of the sudden? It all started going downhill.

As always he watched from afar. Making sure that you realized on your own. He didn’t dare get close to you, instead he sent the kid as a peace offering.

Initially, very miffed that the man sent his own kid to do his dirty work, you ignored him, often allowing him to walk up in your space and waddle around. He brought some smiles to your face on occasions. He made things seem less darker than how they really were.

Mando acted (poorly, you thought) as if the child came up to you despite his ‘scoldings’. It was only a ploy to have an excuse to be close to you without your obvious hostility.

As you came to terms with your predicament, you grew tired. You were starting to feel lonely. You would let him touch you, kiss you, embrace you, but you never responded back.

He realized after a long while that you only reciprocated his touches during sex. Always being constantly turned on due to hormones (you assumed) was bound to make anyone crazy. He took what he could and he really took it good. It had gotten to the point where you didn’t have a day in which you didn’t have his cum leaking from you.

He relishes in the moments where you would grab onto him as he thrusted into you from behind. He relished in the way you would lead his hand down your panties and fuck yourself against him, the way you twitched and moaned when his mouth wrapped around your sore and swollen nipples.

One time he embraced you in your sleep. His chest was against your back and he nuzzled his nose into your hair. You shifted in your sleep and he froze momentarily. He immediately tightened his hold as you started to move.

He was expecting you to break out of his caging arms. You found him suffocating and you always tried to push him away, despite never reaching your goal. He tries to kiss away your scowl of disgust every time. You would stay still when you got tired of fighting against him.

This time though, you just turned to face him. Your eyes were half lidded and looking up into his. Your hand lazily came up to his cheek and your fingertips started caressing along his jaw, his nose, his brows and finally along his eyes.

His eyes fluttered closed as you lightly tapped his eyelids. He let out a heavy exhale through his slightly parted mouth. You’re hand fell to his hip and you shuffled closer, curling your head in the nape of his neck.

“Go to sleep.”, you mumbled demandingly against his skin. You woke up in the middle of the night, holding each other so closely, to the point where your legs were entangled. You changed positions quickly after, facing away from him and on the edge of the mattress. He managed to pull you up against him in his sleep and you sighed in defeat.

You would let him do things to you, on occasion sharing a kiss or a hug out of human necessity. He knew that your touches didn’t come out of love it was out of habit.

By the time you were pregnant the second time, despite your hopes that his many attempts to impregnate you wouldn’t take, you had managed to become downright affectionate towards him. Especially when finding out you were with twins.

You decided that things would be better if you cooperated fully. You started to feel something for him as the first baby djarin was born. His touch was so gentle with her, you could see the deep love he held for his children, making you realize that, that was the same look he gave you when you did something mundane, as you fixed up an astromech, as you feed your child mashed fruits or even just laying in bed, half dazed and delirious with left over pleasure.

He sits down with a heavy sigh. He turns to see you sound asleep, still swollen in the belly with his children. He smiled weakly as your chest rises and falls with every breath, the pendant still in between your breasts and glinting in the small candle flicking on the small table beside the bed.

He winces as he released the armor from his flight suit a little too harshly, causing it to fall to the ground in a loud clang.

You stir awake, cradling your bump, which was straining against the shirt you’ve borrowed from Din’s closet ever since he took the week long job. You sat up unsteadily, still half asleep.

He curses softly under his breath.

“Go back to sleep you need your rest-“

You cut him off before he could continue, placing your lips on his. He’s astounded by the way you deepen the kiss and especially by the way you pushed your hands into his locks so desperately.

Letting go of his face you maneuvered yourself behind him. You held him close to you, leaning the back of his head to rest on the curve of your breast.

“I feel like… I could try… for the children. For us.”

The two words echoed against his skull. For us.

You rested your cheek against his hair and sighed shakily. Your hands rubbed against his chest soothingly, feeling the ripple and curves of muscle and skin. You feel him shiver against you and start to tremble.

You looked down at him in concern, finding that tears were starting to run down his face. You kiss his cheek in reassurance and he grasps your hand in his.

It’s been two years. He was willing to wait more for you to be ready to fully accept him, but two years was a long time.

The days pass. He still gets chills whenever he feels your hands on his body. Wrapping them around him as he cooks something over the stovetop. Randomly coming up to him to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He especially gets chills when your start to beg him for more. At first you told him, very clearly, that after the twins were born, you two were done procreating. He agreed despite the downright displeased look on his face.

He even took you to the nearby village’s doctor. But he saw the way you stared at pregnant women as they walked by in the markets, with a sense of longing. The way he can see your brain turn to mush as you saw a newborn baby.

He saw your yearning to be bred, he heard it. Especially as he whispered huskily into your ear about how he wishes to see you swollen again, to have others see who you belonged to.

“Why do you say these things?”, you groan as you cover your face in embarrassment. You have never cum as fast as you did by his words, as hard as you did by his implications.

“They’re just words, mesh’la.” He grins against your shoulder.

“Unless… your liked it so much you might want to… y’know.” He waited for your response. You didn’t say anything for a while, just tracing over the letters on his chest written in Mando’a. As each of your children were born he added their initials accordingly.

“We don’t have the resources.”

“We can always renovate the house, I’m sure the village will be more than happy to help.”

“We can barely handle four right now, including a magic, wizard baby. It’s like you forget about his tantrums-“

“We’ll get a nanny droid. Your very good with repairing them.”

You huff.

“Go to sleep.”, you mumbled. He chuckled at your pout.

A month later you found out you were pregnant once again.

He doesn’t tell you even after you’ve had two more kids together (in result of a ‘malfunction’ in the device he disabled on your neck, which was marketed as the safest possible birth control option), that he was able to bribe (threaten) the doctor to deactivate it and ensure that you wouldn’t know a thing about it.

It seemed like with each baby, each vulnerable moment, you wanted him more, you loved him more. But you most definitely did not love him as much as he loved you.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Damn.🌚

Requests open! Feel free to share your thoughts and your own headcanons along with some requests ofc.