#*Cocks glock* Always has been...

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Doodle Hell #06? (Kasi Edition)

Its all... Kasikah??? Always has been-

(TW/CW btw: Bl00d/Gørə)

So here is the full pick of this week's Doodle Hell. This time featuring a OC of mine that I have been kinda obsessive over since their conceptualization.

Chapter 1, The original Kasi:

No context here just.. Some drawings of the original Kasikah featuring her hubba, Rudy Williams (Goober who is missing a eye).

This includes:

A Sketch of what normal Kasikah is supposed to look like.

Her just... loafing like a cat? (Phoraloxes can do that apparently)

Idk just some wholesome garbage bcs we more of that where the he'll I'm going.

& a "Hehe >:3" moment lol.

(Both Kasikah & Rudy belong to me)

Chapter 2, Uh... a more accurate depiction of what Kasi!Phen looks like (Phen 228/The Boiled One but with Kasi's attributes & bits of her personality)

MMMMMMM YEH MORE SPOOPS AHHAHAH. (& yes I know I have Kasi!Phen legs but for the most part they don't hab legs, instead he be melted on the floor, being stinky, & waiting for the time to steal yur spine.. THE PHENLINGS NEED TO EAT SOMEHOW!)

This Includes:

A portrait of that spine stealing sleep paralysis demon.

Just them... occasionally having no frikin legs (as Phen 228 do).

They are just doing their job beo, why u annoyed? (Featuring cameos of JJ & Neppy)

The demon is just saying hi. :3

(Phen 228 belongs to Doctor Nowhere but KasiPhen was created by me as part of a AU of them called "Mother Phen")

Chapter 3, "Nice Opnion, one small issue, I am inside your home." -The Intruder from The Mandela Catalogue.

Im just not gonna explain this one. Does this have any true importance? Eh not rlly I just wanted to draw Kasi as the child stealer from that horror series on YT about some demons taking over earth by telling ppl to [REDACTED] themselves with info that is way too complex for the human mind itself.

This includes:

"TFW when you get caught doin yur job by one of the parents"

Whoop Whoop Meem

No context tbh I just donno what I'm doing with my life.

(The Mandela Catalogue series belongs to Alex Kister but Kasi belongs to me)

Lil Bonus of the Brimthorne Family.

From Left to Right, we have:

Kasikah, Rudy, Ravine, Klynka, Theo, & Kryssi (Krystal). (All of these guys belong to me)

(Yes, I know it says Kyssi in the pic but that's a typo bro)

Character credits are in the descriptions of each chapter which includes credit to the original creators of the drawings/designs I based on.

Art is uh.. welp, all mine.

Program is Ibispaint bcs that's my main program u goof.

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my Blog's pinned project clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PEASE CREDIT ME!

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄Simon has himself a merry little Christmas - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

Simon opens his eyes to an empty bed on Christmas morning.

His breath catches in his chest when his hand slides across the sheets, instinctively seeking the warmth of your body, only to discover your side of the bed empty. 

His rational, tactical, professional mind tells him you've probably just gotten up with the baby. That for some reason, he slept too deeply and didn't wake up when she did this morning, like he usually does. You're in the guest room, Emmaline's room, now, or in the kitchen. Maybe you're already drinking your first cup of coffee. You're fine. The baby is fine. Nothing is wrong. 

But his heart... his heart screams. Terror ices his veins, adrenaline and fear taking control of his gross motor skills, legs twisting beneath him as he stumbles out of bed and races for the door. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine-

“Sweetheart?” His voice betrays him. He sounds stressed, anxiety piquing, frantically turning the corner into the kitchen. Not again, he can’t do this again, this can’t happen again… 

It’s empty. The front door is still locked, and so is the patio’s, twinkling Christmas tree glowing in the late dawn light. His mind splits. Check Emmaline’s room, they’re probably in there, get control of yourself… and… the glock 19 is closest, should still be under the top shelf, call Price, mobilize the team- 

“Simon?” He whirls at the sound of your voice, air rushing out of his lungs, drawing into a relieved laugh. Emmaline is on your hip in a green, white, and red striped elf costume, complete with a pointed hat, jingle bell dangling from the top. “Morning.” You smile, and so does the baby. “Santa’s elf wanted to surprise you.” You’re still a little sleepy, eyes tired, and he does a double take when he realizes you’re in your underwear and one of his t shirts. 

“I’m… surprised.” Bloody hell. His brain isn’t working, his mouth rendering him stupid, still caught in fight or flight, and your lips subtly twist before your eyes soften, realization soft across your features. 

“Are you okay?” You question, and he nods, not trusting himself to not say something else moronic, flailing in the silence, failing. It’s been weeks since he’s felt like this, inept, clumsy, senseless, too easily settled into a life with you after that pipe burst in your flat and practically delivered him a holiday miracle, a treasure deposited right into his lap. “Here,” you push Emma into his arms, soft fingers over top his as you hand her off, looking up at him with that level trust, adoration that you’re always providing him, in your eyes. Just holding Emmaline settles the anxiety in his heart, soothes the raw buzzing that’s tearing through his head, and you smile, butting your head into his shoulder and placing a kiss there. “Will you take her while I get dressed?” 

“Yeah.” He croaks, as you squeeze his forearm, turning away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, stopping you in your tracks. He wants to tell you he thinks he loves you; he thinks he’d die without you; he thinks you’re the greatest thing he’s ever had, ever held, thinks you saved him, but nothing comes out. You hold his gaze for a second, and then two, before whispering.

“I know… me too.” Of course you do. You pause, cocking your head. “Could you make some coffee? Gonna be a long day.” You raise an eyebrow towards the Christmas tree, where all of Emma’s gifts sit perfectly arranged, and he nods. He can do that.

“Just three scoops of this,” he tells Emma, portioning out the coffee into the filter as she babbles at him from her perch in his other arm. “Mama likes it pretty strong, doesn’t she? And then some water, like this.” He pours the pitcher into the machine’s reservoir, flicking on the power and listening to the gurgle as he makes his way to the couch. He bounces Emma on his knee, little hands waving in the air, trying to grab the end of her hat and gnaw on it. The tree sparkles behind her, lights and ornaments all aglow, and she giggles when she tips herself forward, planting onto his chest with both hands. “Easy, baby girl.” Rolling onto her back in the crook of his arm, she squirms, smiling up at him, finger extended towards his chin. “What is it, eh?” He leans, and she pokes his cheek, cooing with a satisfied grunt. She fits so naturally in his side, just like you do, and he settles into the cushions, relaxing, allowing her to explore, tactile touch padding across his face, little fingernails scratching at his stubble.

“You two look cozy.” You murmur with a yawn, cup of coffee steaming in your palms. He smiles, and Emma lifts her head to look for you, tracking the sound of your voice. You perch at his other side, knees tucking up next to his hip, nestling your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing Emmaline’s cheek. “Whatcha doing sweet pea?” He brushes a kiss across the top of your head, and you sigh, arm wrapping around his stomach. "This is nice."

"It is." He agrees. It's more than nice, it's everything. Everything he didn't know was possible, everything he didn't know he wanted. It's nice, spending Christmas with his girls, cuddled up together on his couch in front of a Christmas tree that's loaded with presents for the baby. A Christmas, the holiday he used to shun… now brought back to life by you. Nice is a good word to describe it, but others flit through his mind as well: perfect, redeeming, salvation.

Purpose.

He takes a ragged breath, and you lean back to look at him, waiting.

"It's more than nice, sweetheart, it's... I... never thought, never dreamed this could happen in my life. You and Emmaline, you're... everything to me." He pauses, cradling your face, watching how your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I want," he swallows the lump in his throat. "I want you to stay. I want you to be here. Always." He needs you to stay, needs you like he needs air to breathe, needs you like he's never needed, never wanted, anything before in his life. He'd give you the world, if he could, wrap it up nicely and put it beneath the tree, but he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain.

He's grateful he doesn't have to.

"I'll be here, Simon. I'll be right here. With you." You take his hand, clutching onto him tightly. It's selfish, what he wants. Stupid. But he's not a good man... he's yours, and he'll be as wicked, as awful as he must to keep you and Emmaline safe. You're the only good thing about him now, and he'd dig himself free from a shallow grave all over again, just to crawl home to you. You've changed him, deeply. Fundamentally. Taught him the truth of love, of healing, your grief not so much different from his own, and he knows he'd die for you, he'd die for you ten thousand times.

Emmaline babbles at the sound of your voice, and you smile at her, not bothering to wipe away the tear that tracks down your cheek. "We're here. We'll stay. As long as you want us."

And christ, if that isn't the best Christmas gift he's ever be given.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[dxrksong]

Jason 13 au

PLOT WITH MEMES

-----

Jason: you ever have that moment where you're relaxing on a rooftop with a nice cup of tea.

Jason: and then you get kidnapped by your reanimated bicycle from the GZ?

Danny, desperately trying to steer: NOT HELPING JOHNNY!!!!!

Jason: I know.

The Bike: :)

------‐---

Jason: so what the hell am I supposed to do with zom?

Danny: considering they're the only thing keeping you alive rn? Not much

Jason: how the hell-right right, acting as a vein system....

Danny: in theory if you do manage to absorb the blob ghost, you won't have to deal with the rage anymore? That's a plus right?

Jason: I know we use them as snacks sometimes but they're also PETS, phantom!

Danny: wait, you're keeping it?

Jason: CaN YoU NoT SaY It lIkE ThAt?!

--------

Constantine: what the fuck......*walks out*

BatMan: ???

Constantine: Manor's haunted.

Bruce: *cocks gun* always has been

Constantine: WTF?!

Batman: yes?? I know??

Constantine: byyyeeee

Batman: Constantine get back here!

--------

Jason: shit. Goin' ghost! Damn you kid, for infecting me with your stupid phrase! *transforms*

Kon, Jon, and Superman: *physical and visual distress as they immediately scramble out of their chairs*

Jason: ??? What's wrong with you??

Jon: YOUR HEART JUST STOPPED!!!!

Jason: oh. OOH! Yeah, it does that.

Superfam: *visible distress and confusion*

-------

Danny @ Jack with a little dance: you are my daaaaaad YOU'RE MY DAD!! Boogie woogie woogie!

Jack: AWWWW DANNO!!! *shamelessly shedding tears* IT'S BEEN FOREVER SINCE YOU'VE MADE LITTLE JINGLES FOR US!!!

Jason:

Jason: hmm

[Later]

Jason: *slides into the batcave*

BatKids: ??

Jason: *DEEP INHALE*

Jason, trying to mimic Danny's dance: YOU ARE MY DAAAAD! YOU'RE MY DAD!! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE!!!!!

Batkids:

BatMan:

Batman: "Dad.....?"

-------

Batman: check out how hard I can cry! SUSHAUAABSIDBESJDDKEDB

[Note. May or may not be immediately after the previous meme]

--------

Danny: *dies screaming*

Also Danny: *screm powers*

Jason: *died in explosion*

Also Jason: *Explody powers*

-------

Jason: say hello to my BOOM STICK!!!!

The boom stick is a ghost glock. Jason can imbue it with his powers to make the targets explode upon impact.

-----------

Gotham:

Jason:

Gotham: *starts crying*

Jason: SHIT-Gothi, what's wrong?!

Gotham: Why must you grow up??! Why can't you stay my little birdy!

Jason:

Jason: look just because I said you don't have to mother me, doesn't mean-

Gotham: MY BABY DOESN'T LOVE ME ANYMOOOORE!

---------

Jason: *gets hurt*

Shades: so you've chosen death

--------

Duke: shit, we're cornered!

Jason: don't worry, I got this! *High pitched scream*

Shades: *come rushing in to defend the baby*

Duke: WHAT THE-

Jason: relax, they're friendly.

Duke: I'm talking about how fucking girly that scream was J-*gets elbowed in the ribs*

Jason: You sure your name ain't Dick? Cuz you're sure acting like one!

---------

Bike: *in batcave*

Also Bike: *suddenly in the dining room, just sitting there*

Damien: ?!

--------

Damien: Todd, can you not leave your bike in random places in the house?! It's annoying!

Jason: my bike?? Oh, OH! That's just squishy, he moves on his own time.

Damien: are you saying your bike is alive Todd? Tt do you mistake me for an idiot?

Jason: why don't you ask the bike then?

Bike: *beeps*

Damien: *jumps 5ft into the air*

----------

Dick: Jason, we need to talk.

Jason: *sigh* fine, I admit, I put him in the nicu, but he deserved it!

Dick: what?! No, I mean about your bike! What the hell are you talking about?!

Jason: ooh! Nevermind then, carry on!

Dick: Jason, this conversation isn't over.

Jason: jeez, you're starting to sound like Bruce, just tell me what you wanted!

Dick: your bike is crying.

Bike: *just realized it was stuck like this*

Jason: ?! Squishy?! *runs off*

[creepzkilla]

Hello there! May I request some Masky NSFW headcanons? I love your writing and devoured the Toby and EJ ones so fast. Feel free to make it as dark as you want!

↳˳⸙;; ❝ MASKY KINK HC'S! + BONUS ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗

Nsfw. warning-- fem! gentials not proof read, sadism, humiliation, oral, marking, gun play, corruption,

[A/N-- PLS READ. my official back to tumbler post! i will be going through my inbox of creepypasta requests-- after I am done with them all I will be not writing for creepypasta until I am back in the fandom! lately I haven't been too into the fandom and will be focusing on the other fandoms. feel free to still send in requests-- but you have until the 18th to send them in! then I will be closing any asks for creepypasta.

MASKY IS NOT A VERY AFFECTIONATE MAN—

let’s face it, he isn’t, and you’ve come to terms with that. his love language is more acts of service. you know that he'll always be there for you no matter what. doing your chores around the house-- making the bed, the little things, is how you know he loves you. but you've always found another way. sex.

sadist/ humiliation: masky is known as being brutal. someone who would do anything to get what he wants. he just loves to humiliate you-- degrading you in a public setting, making you wear a vibe to a nice dinner setting-- and he revels in your pained expressions that begged for release

oral: he adores seeing your pretty mouth wrapping around his cock with tears in your eyes. you were never good at deepthroating, it makes it even worse when he shoves his girthy cock down your throat and starts fucking it without letting you breathe.

marking: he could spend all night littering bites and hickies all along your body that will surely last days. but don't worry! once they fade away, they'll be replaced with even darker ones!

gun play: this is self-explanatory... masky loves placing his glock-19 against your temple as you go down on his cock. the fear in your eyes when his eyes meet yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

corruption: all the pastas, i feel have a sense of humanity left-- even if only a sliver. their other half--their murderous persona's take pleaser in seeing the innocent face of their new fuck buddy be taint by their corrupted hands. masky partially is rough with his toys, fucking their holes as long as he wants, using them as practically a fleshlight.

stretching: he loves stretching out your tight walls with his girth as your hands claw against anything you can find. you’re pussy if just so tight

MASKY HAS DEFINENTLY TRIED TO CONVINCE YOU TO A THREESOME--

i mean, how could you blame him? he just wants to flaunt your perfect little body and face. so why not let someone else have a turn with you? just to let them know how good he has it with your divine mouth and pussy. to be honest, he pities anyone who hasn't experienced you in your entirety. esp, your pussy.

5 INCHES ISNT ALL THE BIG, BUT A GIRTH OF 7 INCHES--

is fucking insane. im serious 7 inches for the circumference of a dick is massive. built like a coke can. masky is so girthy that he has to stretch you out first before having sex with you or his tip won't even go in. sometimes when he can't wait anymore, he just shoves it in with no warning as tears brim your eyes and your hand grabs the nearest thing it can.

—-ˋˏ [‘in through your nose, out through your mouth’] ˎˊ

--("mmm, p-please hurry up and stretch me out already.." desperate moans fell from your mouth as your thighs ached from your position. your head; shoved into the pillow as you used your arms for extra comfort with your ass up in the air.

the tightness in your stomach increased with every moment as you laid buried in the satin pillow sheets. a thick warm substance ran down your tired legs, seeping out of your hole-- a sign that you are more than ready to take your lovers cock in full. yet, he seemed to be taking his sweet time.

the killer was utterly enthralled by the sight in front of him. his hands traced the curves of your ass in an almost desperate attire that sent shivers down your spine. his thumbs stretched apart your ass, showing off your heat that was soaked in your own excitement. he marveled at the thought of you getting off to him, its only been a mere 10 minutes, and you're already this wet. its a marvel to him.

you feel his hands prying you open, displaying you perfectly in front of him. it was like you could feel his hungered gaze burying in your skull, into your hippocampus; therefore it being permanently ingrained into your memory. this moment-- filled with nothing but lust, and hunger as he stared at your heat as if it was on a golden platter, made from the finest gold.

"y'know... youre just so fucking pretty," you practically moaned at his words as his hands run through your tangled hair, giving it a harsh tug, making you hiss, "have I ever told you that?" he sneered almost, lust and anger mixed in between. he was angry at himself for taking his precious time playing with you-- worshipping you, but he couldn't bring himself to just fuck you, no he needs to savor this. he needs this memory to be ingrained into his very being so he can just replay this--sight, over and over again.

"please... please i need you--" a desperate whine fell from your mouth, you felt as if you could explode. the knot in your stomach tightens with the very thought of his cock entering your body, if anything you could cum on that thought alone-and you might- if he didn't hurry up.

masky sighed before taking a deep breath. he positioned his cock at your aching entrance, brushing against your folds ever so slightly, sending tingles down your spine. he about just came right then and there, you're just so fucking wet. but that doesn't mean its gonna be easy getting it in.

"imma need you take a deep breathe for me okay?" you obeyed, taking a deep breathe, letting your chest rise and fall- preparing.

this cock pries at your entrance, struggling to get in. even with your pussy being so wet, you still didn't want to open up for him. by now, some time had passed as he tried to get it in but, to no avail. he was beyond annoyed at this point, just wanting to fuck you dumb on his thick dick.

with his patience wearing thin, he shoves his cock in with no warning-- slipping past your pussy with ease. a curdled scream rips through your throat as it slowly morphed into scattered whines and moans.

"breathe through your nose, out through your mouth, hun." you hear the flick of a lighter and the smell of cigarettes permeate the room. you always hated when he smoked in the bedroom (despite how good he looked fucking you with a cig in his mouth)-- it always ruins the complete mood. (you could imagine what he looked like, a cig loosely y hanging from his lips as his muscles flex with desperation-- almost like he's holding back.) but your mouth was too busy to form any coherent words as an endless barrage of moans cascade from your lips-- and he's only stretching you out... he hasn't even begun fucking you yet.

masky could cum right now if he wanted to. with your tight pink walls stretching so good against his thick cock, if he could he would be able to stretch you out like this every moment of every day. it just feels so good-- he almost forgot he needs to begin fucking you. he hasn't even started fucking you yet and he already needs to cum? how pathetic is that? he balls ached how much he needed to cum.

"well, i hope your ready because im ready."

"w-wait it still hurts--"

"remember? in through your nose, out through your mouth...now breathe."

[bullet-prooflove]

Dirty - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @@oureternalbond  @anime-weeb-4-life @chaoticqueenie98 @thatonesexycancerian @fanfic-n-tabulous @wakeama @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @msjava1972 @thelonewolfwillsurvive @thanossexual @nu1freakshow @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @@lora21 @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @goblinenby @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @crimeshowjunkie @theeyesofthestag @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @ambassadortotrilliusprime @yvette22 @legally-a-bastard @thequeenoftheisleofavalon @joyfulfxckery @justreblogginfics @multiflixshelves @luvvstvrkeyy

Companion Piece to:

Bad Things - Althea discovers you're with Chibs.

Persuasive - Companion piece to Bad Things - Things get a turn when Althea gets wind of your relationship.

It’s a ride that Chibs doesn’t want to take with because he knows exactly where it ends. The route is one that he knows well from their time together. A secluded clearing in the woodlands on the outskirts of Charming. They’ve fucked there before when they wanted to keep things off the radar.

Althea and him, they’re toxic, they always have been. He would never admit it, but she had beaten him down, eroded his self-worth. She played mind games, and, in the end, it had gotten violent for both of them. He’d called time after that.

Chibs knows what’s about to happen, he knows what Althea wants from him. The balance of power shifted when he’d broken it off and now, she’s found out about you, about the fact the two of you live together and it’s sent her over the edge. He knows her well enough to know that she needs to assert her dominance, to prove that she’s the one in control. She’ll leave her marks on his skin, in places that he won’t be able to hide them, evidence of the act. She’ll want you to see them, to know that she’s ruined him for you.

He sees how his future plays out after that. You asking him to move out because you can’t stand the sight of him, him living in Jax’s old room at the clubhouse, going to sleep every night with a bottle in his hand.

When Althea climbs in the back with him, he tries to fight it. He jerks at the cuffs, snarling and baring his teeth as she straddles his lap, her thighs hugging his hips. Her hand threads through his hair, tugging it back by the roots so hard that he hisses through his teeth. She rams her service pistol under his jaw, the cold barrel digging into his skin. Her free hand snakes down between the two of them, resting over his cock.

“Don’t.” He rasps as her fingers undo the zipper of his jeans.

“I can see you’ve missed me Filip.” Althea tells him, her lips ghosting along the curve of his throat.

He can feel himself stirring and he fucking hates himself. It’s a physical function, one that he has no control of, but it feels like a fucking betrayal, of himself, of you, of the relationship the two of you have.

“I’m going to fuck you until you come for me.” She whispers, her teeth nipping at his throat. “And then I am going to take everything that you love and burn it to the ground.”

She bites down hard, and the sound that leaves his mouth is guttural, wounded like an animal. Afterwards he thinks that’s why he doesn’t hear the car door open, the reason he doesn’t realise there’s someone else there until he feels Althea stiffen against him. He opens his eyes to see a familiar Glock pressed to Althea’s temple.

“Put the gun down, or I paint the inside of the car with your brains.” Tig tells her.

He sees the look in Althea’s eyes, the way her mouth sets in that thin grim line. Tig will do it, they both know it. He feels her service weapon lower; she sets it down on the seat alongside of her. Tig snatches it up, slipping it into the waistband of his jeans.

“Uncuff him.” He orders.

Althea’s jaw clenches, her nostrils flaring as she withdraws the key from her pocket and reaches behind him, unfastening the cuffs.

“Out.” Tig snaps.

Althea complies, her hands raised on either side of her head as Chibs clambers from the car, his face a mask of fury as he draws up his zipper.

“You ok?” Tig asks him.

Chibs doesn’t answer, instead he takes the gun from the other man’s hand and points it directly at Althea. She opens her mouth to speak but it’s drowned out by the retort of the Glock as he fires into her chest. He doesn’t stop until the clip the is empty.

“How do you want me to make it look?” Tig asks when Chibs hands back the weapon.

“Dirty.” Chibs tells the other man as he looks down at body of his former lover. “I want this bitch dragged through the mud.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[strawbxrryneptune]

Hood Bakugo gives me life.

I NEED you to write about the whole UA gang in the hood because this was just *chefs kiss*

Easily in my top 5 fav fics of all time ♥♥♥

Idk what you mean by whole UA gang but here's a lil smth smth

♡♡

Bakugou in the hood is beautiful. Dating him is like a religious experience tbh. He's definitely the plug/dealer everyone's afraid of. If you owe him money or anything, I pray for you. He does not take shit lightly, you will leave his place with 4 missing toes, and if you don't pay your debt by the end of the week, you won't have any legs 🤷🏾‍♀️. Carries a glock around all the time, but you wouldnt know cause he hides it. Has a temper but it's not as bad as it used to be when he was just starting out. He sits back and watches, the kind of gangsta that doesnt do the whole 'gang signs for everything' type shit, and he's not soft. For you, yeah. For his bros, sometimes, but if he needs to kill a bitch he won't hesitate.

He loves ass. Like if you walk into his crib and you're wearing shorts??

Game over.

He'll push you down onto the plush carpet of his office and make you suck him off while he takes drags of a blunt, offering it to you while you gag around him. If you accept, he'll have you blow rings around his cock while you suck it, then when he's about to cum he'll pull you off and fuck you from the back, grabbing at your ass and cursing into the air.

Gives you a smack on the ass and a bunch of rolled hundreds so you can go shopping. Get as much shit as you want, but at the end of the day you better be in his bed.

♡♡

Denki's headass is a fake hood nigga . He's probably a super senior (got held back lmfao) cause he kept getting caught either blowing bitches backs out in the stairwell or hot boxing the bathroom. When he was in high school, he was def the type to put a speaker in his backpack and blast NBA youngboy. He throws gang signs in the hallways, not even knowing what some of them really mean.

He's been shot at multiple times.

The only reason he's not always in trouble is cause he and Bakugou grew up together. No one fucks with Bakugou's crew.

He has an unhealthy obsession with tits for sure. He sees you in a tank top or an off the shoulder and hes pulling you to a secluded corner and kissing you breathless, hands tugging and pinching at your chest.

Loves when you ride him cause he can watch your tits bounce.

Even if you dont have big ones, he still loves them, sucking at your nipples and rubbing up and down your stomach.

Leaves lots of marks.

Would die for you. Has threatened to shoot your parents for making you cry, even though all he has is a pocket knife.

Has to beg Bakugou for a glock.

♡♡

Sero is the plug. Like, Bakugou does some runs for him occasionally but Sero has everything. He's always in this really ratty recliner with a pitbull at his feet, smoking a blunt and playing some dumbass game.

He has so much money constantly, its crazy.

Even tho what he does is against the law in so many ways he's friends with all the neighborhood cops. Mans never gets in trouble LMAO.

He and Bakugou are the ones who run shit.

He loves thighs. Around the house you're only allowed to wear short shorts and thigh thighs. Or, even better, naked with thigh thighs 👀

Sadly, the last option is virtually impossible cause there's always people coming in and out.

But when he isnt working, he loves to lay you down and feast on you, making you play his game or try to finish his blunt without choking or losing.

Goes down on you for hours, won't even fuck you unless you beg for it.

Doesnt give a shit about himself when it comes to you :((

♡♡

Kirishima isnt a part of the hood LMFAO

Hes like that one friend who everyone loves but doesnt belong there.

Like Jaden, Shawn, Daeshawn, and Mark.

We love Mark.

Kiri was Bakugou's childhood best friend. He and Bakugou went on different paths, and Bakugou is a growing gangsta while Kirishima is manager in training at Game Stop.

He doesn't smoke often but when he does it's really fun.

Gets the gang discounts at the store, even tho they can all afford to buy the entire Gamestop chain.

That's why Sero has every new Play Station, Balugou has every Xbox, Denki has all the Legend of Zelda merch, Mina has a bunch of cute plushies.

He always comes in clutch 😫

He loves everything about you.

Like he cant pick a favorite body part, but loose clothing (sundresses, baggy clothes, his clothes??) Makes him lose his mind.

He will lift up whatever you're wearing finger you till your creaming all over him, then slide home and make your legs shake for days.

Feral Kirishima is not a common thing, hes usually sweet and doting, the ultimate service dom, but wear his shirt with some thigh highs or a garter belt?? Or even his uniform shirt ??

R.I.P that pussy, ayyy

♡♡

Mina is literally the most fun out of all of them.

She always has some type of substance on her, a little flask, some weed in a cute baggy, some suspicious pills, you name it.

Always dresses in juicy merch.

Shes always wearing those silky sweat outfits with the crop jackets, with a gold chain and some filas.

Nails always done, hair always done.

Ms. Girl can fight, period.

Will and has beat a bitch for you.

Don't get her mad. She angry cries, and will swing on you if needed.

She also loves everything about you, but she be staring at your ass a lot.

Doesnt care what you're wearing, she will smack it.

Shes usually more domineering. Shes definitely a switch, but she takes control in the way that she knows what she wants and she'll guide you through it, even if shes "subbing"

Loves going down on you.

She gets insecure sometimes when you wanna eat her out, but always shakes in pleasure at the end of the night, manicures nails scraping down your back and scalp as she screams your name.

You literally have no idea what she does or where she goes when she disappears randomly, but she always has cash.

No one asks questions tho

♡♡

Let me know if you want a Dekusquad or individual fic/drabble :)

[sirmatthew1972]

Temptation

Pairing Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid Summary In which a soaking wet, cold Aaron gets warmed up - and then some - by his secret lover Spencer. Warnings/tags 18+, nsfw, secret relationship, mild hypothermia, touching, kissing, mild smut, handjobs in the shower, sharing clothes, flirting Author note Missing/alternate scene for Criminal Minds episode 6x22: Out of the Light. Let's pretend that Spencer too was in the car with Hotch when they saved the girl.

TEMPTATION No more adrenaline. All urgency gone from Aaron… and what remains is the cold. The wetness of his soaked bullet proof vest and the clothes underneath it. The cool breeze that turns his skin to ice. His fingers and hands are going numb while his body creeps towards hypothermia, but not… For Spencer knows to steer him away from the lake. To leave the now surviving girl in the safe hands of the emergency crew, and her other rescuer to be cared for by their team. That Aaron doesn't want to be fussed over… even when he needs a helping hand to drive him back to the hotel. For another to peel off his still wet armour of Kevlar and his belt with the holstered Glock. To remove the layers of clothes that have no use when soaked. Practical fingers where his are refusing to work. Warm hands and arms, which he can't help but rely upon as they guide him over to and into the bathroom, then underneath the spray of the fast-heating shower. The near naked heat of Spencer presses up behind him. Both of them left standing in nothing but the last, flimsy layer that keeps their modesty intact. Warm against cold, unyielding and painful, but oh-so-welcome too. Lips caress the skin behind his ear with soft murmurs of pride and fear alike. "Hotch… so brave… so selfless… but what if you'd never come up? If we lost you…" "But I did", Aaron manages despite his chattering teeth. Fingers curl into his side as he does, and he knows it then, feels it before Spencer scoffs at his automatic protest. That fear of losing what is so damned new to them that they've not been so bared to the other before now. Scars ignored, forgotten more so, in the face of too much cold… that raw need to care for him. No, them being here showering together so intimately is not about we as in the BAU team. This is about something far more personal for Spencer and him, which Aaron refuses to deny them. "Because I have good reason to. Spencer…" Turning around, Aaron answers the so raw need for closeness by taking those warm hands into his cold ones, entwining their fingers. "… what we do will never be without danger, you know this." "I do." Aaron leans in to kiss the wry smile from tempting lips. "Then hear me. This? You? I'm always coming back for more…" He knows the reality of who they are. Why they can't stand down from duty, scars on body and mind be damned. No, tomorrow is unsure. But today? They are alive… and as such he can give Spencer the one promise he knows to keep no matter what. "For as long as I breathe." "Same." Now feeling warmer, for more than one reason, Aaron finds solace in another kiss. One that deepens fast. All pent-up emotions of relief, affirmation and love. Hands touching. Holding… seeking for more. To learn of how it feels to have Spencer so close that his arousal presses up against where Aaron is equally as hard for him. Oh fuck! He needs more than this… but so does Spencer… and so their impatient fingers pry at cotton hems gone wet. Two pairs of snug boxers left to litter the shower floor as the spray of hot water keeps their bodies warm and slick. Soaped hands… sliding over his ass… and his that at last get to touch every inch of Spencer's gorgeous cock. They though can't last. Not here, not when they have never had this. A few more pulls as they kiss deep, hungrily. Mouths and bodies crashing together… all cold fear forgotten, replaced by the powerful and almost joint release. The heat of the shower lingers after they've dried off. When they return to the motel room… and the mess Spencer has made of the floor there. Even as Aaron takes it in he can hear the groan of annoyance. Yeah, it doesn't take a profiler to see how they have crashed into the room where Aaron had slept alone last night. That it is his go bag and his alone. How this leaves the naked man by his side without dry clothes. Because the discarded cardigan, shirt and trousers on the floor? They may not be as wet as the other set, but close enough to be anything but comfortable. "I've got you…" Shaking his head with a wry grin of amusement, Aaron reaches for his bag to open it and search for then pull out the grey zip-up-jumper tucked in there for extra assurance to offer it to his lover. "Here, wear this." Even as he speaks he digs out a set of fresh clothes for himself… while searching for his spare jeans. Did he bring them? If so… He's distracted by how Spencer shrugs himself into his well-worn knitted jumper with a soft sigh of pleasure. "Only this?" Hazel eyes blink at him, feigning innocence… and failing to be all that, because of how the two of them are drawing closer. Have been for a while. "Tempting…" Aaron admits as he eyes up the long, bare legs of flustered skin. Taken by how his jumper hugs the hips and ass of his love as if it belongs there, even when it can't hide how Spencer too isn't unaffected by an act as innocent as sharing clothes. That hint of arousal he wants to see and taste more of. Oh, does Aaron want to fall into bed with Spencer and make love to him… except when he reaches out towards temptation he's reminded of why he can't. Duty! The team! His stupid cell phone that rings as if it's them come barging through the door, but not. "Hotchner." Aaron picks up the phone, gesturing for Spencer to take from his bag what he needs. "I am fine. Changing as we speak. Yes, Reid and I will be there in thirty minutes." Half distracted in his answers, Aaron can't take his eyes off temptation. The bared cute ass that bends over his bag to fish out the jeans he'd missed before. Or from how Spencer teases him by slowly putting them on, going commando as if it doesn't matter that they aren't his own… as if maybe that is what turns him on. Hell yeah, Aaron is warmed up by now, more than that! But as it is all he can do is hang up the call, get dressed as well, then return to their oblivious team and meet them on the jet. To wait out the long flight… But after? He means to drive Spencer home, or rather to his apartment, where Aaron will peel his damned clothes off that so delightful body and give into sweet temptation.

[normreedenstein]

Muse

Fezco x female OC

Warnings: language, implied drug use, mention of gun/ implied violence?

Notes/summary: This is just something random, and I don't know where (if) it's going. Mostly musings of Fezco's new employee, who has become infatuated with him. Could he ever return her feelings?

I've literally never posted anything I've ever written. So, please be kind! Thank you. I don't know how to make cut links, so sorry this is clogging your feed.

×××××××××××××××××

When she first started working at the little corner convenience store, Mya hadn't really realized her boss's beauty. It didn't take long for her to fully appreciate it, though. She had met him for a quick, casual interview and then started her first shift that weekend. Fezco is an odd name but not as strange as his little brother, who had been named Ashtray for some reason. Mya wondered about them, about him.

It started as simple observations. She would watch him stock the fridges, scroll his phone, and talk to customers. He intrigued her. The way his arms and shoulders flexed through the fabric of his Polo as he carried cases of malt liquor. The intensity of his green crystalline eyes. His passive expression which caused his full, rosy lower lip to protrude just so and the way his thick lashes brushed over his freckled cheeks when he was absorbed in scrolling Instagram. He was always well kempt. His hair buzzed short--exposing a large crescent scar over the left side of his skull--but that was a mystery for another time, his cropped ginger beard always nearly trimmed, and his clothes designer from head to toe.

Fezco's body language could be difficult to interpret. He could appear completely relaxed while also on edge, and she wondered if his customers picked up on it like she did. Probably not, she assumed, since they were usually drunk or high as fuck. Ashtray knew though, and she often stole glances at him, lurking behind the glass doors of the drink fridges, waiting with his Glock in case shit went sideways. If Fezco was intriguing, Ashtray was downright shocking.

It really only took that first shift for Mya to know that she found him irresistibly attractive, and this one slow shift in particular sprinkled with deep conversations to know she had developed feelings for him. When he spoke, he had a clear, concise way of making his point, and when he listened, he listened with his whole body. His eyes watched her, nodding slowly, hands loosely gripping the edge of the counter that he sat upon while he easily leaned into the conversation.

Mya had to constantly remind herself that this was just Fez's way. She wasn't special, and he wasn't doing this because she meant anything to him. Did she? No, of course not. She was just the girl he employed to help out a few evenings each week.

"You aight, kid?" Fez broke her from her disassociating daze.

"Huh? Oh yeah, m'fine sorry, just tired." She took a deep breath and returned to the reality of the little corner store.

A look of gentle concern passed over his brow, and he pursed his lips gently.

"You wanna cut early; that's cool. Get you some sleep, lil ma."

The gentle way he spoke and the term of endearment made her heart skip a beat. He had never called her that. It didn't mean anything, though, right? He was staring at her now, waiting for a response.

"OK, yeah, thanks, Fez." She breathed as she slid off the freezer. He nodded at her.

"Be safe ma..."

She nodded this time, pulling her purse from under the counter. She brushed by him as she raised the strap over her head, and across her chest, her arm brushed his shoulder and gave her goose flesh.

"Night," she sighed.

"Ay, you sure you aight? Need a ride?" He cocked his head to the side. "I'll get Ash to watch the register." Mya paused a moment but thought better of it; she just needed to be away from him and her pining. "I'm good to walk, thanks."

He watched her walk out of the bright parking lot lights. Ashtray wondered out from behind the fridges. "Bruh, you fucked." Fez lulled his head towards his younger brother, giving him a sideways glare. "Shuddup kid, don't know shit." He pursed his lips. Ash snorted, "bruh bruh, you called her lil mama, the fuck. She's not gonna forget that." Fezco swallowed, his adams apple bobbing slowly. "Ay, yo! Stop eves dropping. It don't mean nothin'." Fez's voice was hard and demanding. Ash simply raised his hands in mock surrender as he backed away from his older brother. The kid was right. He'd slipped. Fuck.

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: six

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.0k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, kidnapping, drug use, guns

Kageyama Tobio paces in front of your lab building. You should have been done an hour ago, and normally you text if something comes up. Maybe you’re studying or had to do extra lab work. He shouldn’t worry himself yet. 

Six hours later, Kageyama finds himself at his desk, looking over security camera footage with Miwa leaning over his shoulder. His phone buzzes next to him; a simple picture is the only message. His shaking hand causes the phone to slip from his grip, falling to the floor. His stomach drops as his heart cracks.

---

Your first thought is that your head hurts. Your second thought is that you need to figure out what the hell happened.

You keep your eyes closed; if your attackers are near you, you don’t want them to know that you’re awake yet. Instead, you focus on what information you can gather from your other senses.

You’re laying on your back, on what you guess is a bed. It’s soft underneath your back, which is a slight relief. You can’t be in too much danger if your kidnappers have given you a comfortable bed, right? The room isn’t completely dark; your eyes are able to register that something is emitting a soft light. If you focus, you can hear muffled voices, probably in a hallway outside the room you’re in.

You slowly open your eyes; there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger. Most of your assumptions were correct. You’re in a small room, lying on a bed, blankets covering you. There are no windows, but a lamp on the bedside table casts the room in soft yellow light. A closed door is to your right, and you can hear the voices that way. Besides missing your shoes, you’re still fully dressed in what you were wearing. The backpack you were carrying is missing, along with your phone. There’s no telling how long you were out for or what time it is now. You can only pray that Kageyama knows you wouldn’t miss your lunch date without telling him; that he realizes something is amiss.

The lock on the door clicks, and you sit up, preparing yourself for whoever enters. It’s the man who was leaning over you before you passed out; you recognize his sickening grin. His smile only widens when he sees that you’re awake, and he comes towards the side of the bed as you try to crawl away from him.

“I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake, darling.”

His voice drips with sweet venom, making you cringe. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He cocks his head to the side. “No can do, darling. You’re mine now.”

“I don’t even know you. Let me go.” You really wish that you had anything to use against him; a weapon, a knife, even something to throw at him.

“You know me. Well, maybe you don’t, but Tobio sure does. Isn’t that right?” Your eyes widen as he pulls a cellphone from his pocket, your cellphone, you realize. Kageyama’s not on speaker, but you can hear his voice. He’s shouting, screaming at this guy in front of you, and it all suddenly clicks.

These are the people who have the files. This is Seijoh. This is who Kageyama was worried about.

You don’t know how you didn’t realize it from the start; getting drugged must have slowed down your brain. Now that you know the situation you’re in, adrenaline starts to kick in. This is the mafia, and these people will kill you. You know this, and you need to escape before that can happen. Seijoh will do anything to get to Kageyama, and you can’t allow him to risk anything to get you back. You will have to escape yourself.

“Give me the phone.” The man glances up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your request.

“Why would I do such a thing?” Kageyama’s still shouting, even louder now. The man hums thoughtfully, then presses a button. “I guess I could put him on speaker.”

Kageyama’s voice is now clear, but all you hear are threats and a lot of shouting.

“Tobio?” You call his name, hoping he’ll hear it through all his yelling, and vaguely, it crosses your mind that this is the first time in four years that you’ve used Kageyama’s given name.

“Y/n?” His voice is frantic, and you can almost picture him, disheveled and pacing back and forth. The thought brings tears to your eyes. You have to escape, if only so that you can see him again, tell him you love him, call him by his first name to his face.

“I’m here. Listen, don’t do anything stupid. I’ll find a way out, I promise.”

“Y/n, I’m going to come get you, don’t listen to anything Oikawa tells you. I’ll give him whatever he wants in exchange for you returning safely, he knows that.” You look to the man, Oikawa.

“Tobio, don’t you dare do anything stupid. Don’t give him anything. I’ll kill you myself if you do. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll find a way out.”

Oikawa grins. “Alright, that’s enough.” Kageyama’s shouting as Oikawa ends the call, pocketing your phone. He extends his hand to you, and you grimace.

“Come on. Why don’t we chat for a bit, darling?”

---

Kageyama Tobio tosses his phone across the room in anger. You are so, so brave and he is not worthy of you. You were taken right from him, in broad daylight, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Even with your warnings, he is willing to do anything to get you home, to bring you back safe.

Miwa brings him tea as he pours over every piece of information he has. She calls his associates; his most trusted men, any and all rival gangs he has alliances with.

He can only pray that you are safe, that Oikawa wouldn’t harm his most powerful bargaining chip.

---

When Oikawa reaches for you, you grab his hand and pull him towards you, punching him in the nose. He’s shouting for someone, but you’re too focused on doing all the damage you possibly can. You don’t notice when another man comes into the room, syringe in hand, and pricks you in the arm. As the world fades and tears form in your eyes, you can only hope that you’ll have the chance to wake once again.

---

When you wake again, you are thankful. You’re in the same room with the same surroundings. There is no telling how long you were out for this time, but you’re mercifully alone. That is enough to encourage you to get up, to start thinking of a plan. You try to sit up, but your muscles are weak. It takes minutes to pull yourself into a sitting position, and you’re exhausted by the end of it. You can’t do anything like this. You collapse back down again, praying that whatever drugs they’ve given you will be worn off by the time you wake next.

---

The Artura roars as Kageyama presses down on the gas, one hand on the gearshift. It’s nearing dawn; he’s been out all night looking for clues and a way to see Oikawa without provoking him. None of his efforts have proven futile, so now, he does what he should’ve done first: gone straight to the source.

There are no bodyguards are security outside the lavish mansion, not even a gate. He parks at the top of the driveway, just outside the garage. There have to be security cameras, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get what he’s here for regardless.

Oikawa’s personal residence is an elaborate estate on the outskirts of Tokyo. It’s quite the commute, Kageyama thinks, for someone who works in the heart of the city. He himself prefers living where he works; it’s an easy way to oversee all of his assets and ensure that everything is running smoothly.

This isn’t his first time here, and when he goes to push the front door open, it is unlocked. Kageyama’s mind screams that this means danger, but it doesn’t fully sink in until he walks into the foyer, a gun pointed at his head.

Oikawa Tooru stands leisurely, even when pointing a glock at someone’s forehead. His smile is the same as ever; a chilling, too-nice thing that has always given Kageyama the creeps. His finger hovers on the trigger, and Kageyama immediately realizes that he has made a grave mistake.

If Oikawa pulls that trigger, he will be dead, and there is no way of knowing what will happen to you.

---

When the blanket of sleep lifts again, you are feeling significantly better. There is no one in the room and the drugs have worn off. You rifle through the nightstand’s drawers first. There seems to be nothing of importance, all of the drawers are empty, until you hit the bottom one.

You dig your fingernails into the edge. The depth of this drawer was significantly less than the rest, and your suspicions are proven correct when the false bottom pops out and a handgun is revealed.

Laughing, you grab it, popping the safety off. It’s a miracle, really, that you were able to find such a thing. You stand and head to the door, expecting it to be locked, another challenge to face. Instead, it opens with ease, and you step out into the hall with chills crawling down your spine. Someone is allowing you to leave, and that is unusual.

You stick to the walls as you make your way around. You can hear faint voices, and you follow them through the confusing layout of the house. You look around a corner, gun poised and ready to shoot, when someone grabs you from behind.

You shriek as an arm is snaked around your body, one of your attacker’s hands coming up to cover your mouth. Your eyes are wide in fear when they turn you around, and you remember the gun in your hand. You bring it up to shoot, closing your eyes and hating yourself for what you’re about to do, but your attacker knocks it from your hand easily.

You recognize him, he was there when you were first kidnapped. He puts a hood over your hand and leans in close.

“Stay quiet if you want lover-boy to stay alive.”

Goosebumps prickle on your skin at his words. He can only mean Kageyama, right? You pray that Kageyama is safe, that he didn’t do anything stupid, that he’s alive and well and not here.

You’re led around the house; you can’t see anything, and you’re thoroughly confused with all of the turns by the time you’re led down a set of stairs and towards the voices you heard earlier.

Your heart drops when you’re close enough to distinguish the voices.

“Anything, really? You’d give me your business, your assets, your life?”

Oikawa’s voice is smooth, and you can tell he’s finding humor in the situation at hand, but it isn’t his voice that concerns you.

“Anything.”

No. No. No.

You silently cry when you hear Kageyama’s voice. Why is he here? Why didn’t he stay away like you told him to? Why is he risking everything?

“Hm. Well, if I’m going to kill you, wouldn’t it be better to have an audience?”

You’re thrust forward, nearly stumbling without anyone’s hands to keep you steady. The man from before rips the hood off of your head, and you come face to face with Oikawa, a gun in his hand, aiming for Kageyama. You can’t run to either of them, someone will shoot you if you do. Instead, you hold your ground.

“Let her go.” Kageyama’s voice is thick with anger, and you let your tears fall. “At least don’t make her watch this.”

“You aren’t in a position to make demands right now. I could just as easily kill her instead. Actually,” Oikawa’s easy smile makes you want to scream, “Hajime, why don’t you show poor Tobio how bad this could really get.”

The man behind you, Hajime apparently, grabs you again so that you can’t move. Kageyama’s eyes widen in fear; you aren’t sure why, Hajime just grabbed you, that’s all.

Everything makes sense when you feel the cold press of a gun against your temple.

taglist: @lilith412426 @itoshibaby​ @wallywaffle​ @princess-sunshyn​ @zukoslosthishonor​ @fatal-impact​ @kageyamakock​ 

[spvce-cowboy]

could you put these together with javi? i got them from one of the pomrpt lists!!! thank you!

when one of them is hurt by the antagonist… and their lover goes… absolutely ballistic and does everything in their power to get to the person they love, to the point in which the antagonist and it’s crew have to physically restrain them… and it still doesn’t stop them… they jsut keep kicking… doesn’t matter what happens to them… doesn’t matter if they get beaten in the process… as long as their lover is safe…

when they haven’t seen each other for a while (bonus point if they’re not sure the other one is alive) and all this time they’ve been trying to stay strong, but when they reunite, they crash into each other’s arms, and completely breakdown…

anon ur speaking my language here

warnings below the cut: cannon-typical violence, painkiller usage

--

javi spits out the blood in his mouth before turning his gaze back up at the sicario crouched before him.

it lands on the dirt floor of the basement with a wet sound. the sicario’s eyes--so strung-out that his pupils have been reduced to twin pinpricks of black against his sickly green irises--flick down to the puddle of red-black liquid before resuming his scan of javi’s face.

“the girl means a lot to you, huh?” the sicario has an all-too-familiar texan drawl, long blond hair stringy with the gel.

“where the fuck is she.” he grits out the same mantra he’d been repeating since he broke down the back door of the warehouse. the same mantra he’d repeated as he fought off two of the men, shooting one of them in the foot (twice) before he was overwhelmed by the other guards. the same mantra he repeated as they forced him to the ground, kicking his ribs until breathing was an issue. didn’t matter. he kept fighting regardless. it took two men to twist his arms behind his back like this, both of whom he got a jab or two against before they wrestled him to the ground.

“think that’s it. she your little play-thing? didn’t realize men like you still got hot for teacher.” the sicario cocks his head like a dog might, itching behind his ear with his glock in mock-thought. “though i suppose the whores get old after a while. y’know where we grabbed her? the fucking library. the whole sweet and innocent shick must really get your rocks off.” he laughs. a cruel, sharp bark. javi didn’t understand the meaning of blind rage until this moment.

“i’ll fucking kill you,” javi grits his teeth as one of the men restraining him twists his shoulder back even further. “i swear to god if you laid a hand on her i’ll--”

the sicario makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and standing, as if even the suggestion was insulting. “not my style,” he pauses for a second, then gestures to one of the men holding javi down. “bull, however, if i decide to give him the chance...”

javi doesn’t register the surge of energy that has him attempting to struggle to his feet again. he only processes being pushed flush with the floor again, the sharp crack of pain that rolls through him enough to still the breath in his throat.

“i can get you money,” it’s hard to speak around the blood flooding his mouth but he manages. “money, information, whatever you want. whatever the fuck you want. just tell me where--”

the windows break all at once. javi stays flush against the group as the weight on top of him lifts, the sound of gunfire loud enough to have his hearing go to nothing more than a dull whine.

he doesn’t know how much time passes before someone rolls him onto his back. he coughs, something warm and wet covering his chin and rolling down the sides of his neck. someone’s voice is speaking to him, urgently, as a bright light is shone into his eyes but it’s nothing more than a murmur over the high-pitched tone bouncing through his skull. he thinks he might be saying something, might be trying to blindly bat the flashlight away because it hurts and he keeps trying to blink away the fuzzy haze that has settled over his vision. the world goes dark without warning.

--

you wake up in a hospital bed, heavy eyelids sliding open as your head rolls to the side. for a second you can do nothing more than take in deep lungfuls of air and listen to the steady beeping of the monitor to your right.

the painkillers getting pumped into your arm renders your tongue thick and heavy in your mouth, your throat dry enough that you can barely croak out a small: “javi” without wincing.

there’s a cool hand against your forearm, giving you a reassuring pat. you have to blink a few times before the nurse’s kind face comes into focus.

“he’s alright,” she tells you. her spanish, soft and sing-song and warm with relief, is as much as a reassurance as the hand she has on your forearm. something in you automatically relaxes. you think it’ll be a while before you can hear an american accent again without something within you curling in on itself with fear. without warning, the sicario’s face reappears in your memory, a jolting enough apparition that you squeeze your eyes shut again, flinching. the nurse notices, her voice growing even calmer. “he’s alright. resting, but alright. go back to sleep, you need your strength right now.”

you comply, though it’s not really a choice on your behalf. you just blink again and suddenly all other sounds fade, your eyelids sliding shut.

--

they make you down a meal of saltines and apple-juice before javi can come into the room. 

you can see javi’s silhouette on the other side of the small pane of glass above the doorknob as you patiently work your way through the packet of crackers. you can’t help the loopy smile that overtakes your face while you see the silent movements of him arguing with the nurse outside. the frustrated way he throws his hands up and then starts pacing small circles in front of the closed door.

when you finish nursing the small box of juice that they gave you, the nurse who was helping you unwrap the saltines’ plastic sheaths--your hands too shaky to manage on your own, which was a bit embarrassing--stands and opens the door just wide enough to slip through. 

you wait, entire body stilling as the two of them speak quietly outside, the monitor beside you betraying the beat of your hear. your breath catches in your throat as you see the knob turn down. it hesitates for a second before the door swings open.

you nearly start weeping when you see him. he looks panicked, wide-eyed and scanning you from the other side of the room as if you were about to break at any second. you swallow, opening your mouth to begin saying his name and--

javi crosses the distance between the threshold and your bedside in two long strides. you do your best to sit up to meet him half way, ignoring the whirring series of beeps that the monitors release with the movement. you collapse against him, his arms folding you against his chest with a touch gentle enough to demonstrate he at least absorbed at least some of whatever the nurse told him. you can practically feel the restraint it takes him not to crush you to him in reassurance that you were actually here. that this wasn’t some delusional mirage. he peppers the top of your head with kisses, one of his hands gently cupping the side of your face. his are shaking as much as yours are.

you don’t realize you’re crying until you pull back to look at him, cupping your palms against his cheeks and searching every feature, every new inch of swollen bruising, the stitches collected just above his brow that will no doubtably form a new scar for you to kiss before the two of you fall asleep each night.

“i’ve got you,” he breaths, closing his eyes and gently leaning his forehead against yours. your thumb swipes the under-eye of the unbruised side of his face as you look at him with relief, feeling truly safe for the first time in weeks. “no matter what. fuck i-- you--” 

you cut him off with a kiss, something that’s both hungry and reassuring. he sinks against your mouth as he gathers you against the warmth of his body once more.

and it feels like home. it always will.

--

requests are open !

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This is a WIP. I love Marvel’s Witches and doing some writing exercises to hopefully create a series. My bags are packed on this one and I’m ready to go. Just trying to fill in the middle. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is encouraged. Sharing is caring. Please don’t try to pass off my work as your own.(for real it’s not that great)

Small Time Witch

Nick Fury likes secret weapons. He hid them all over SHIELD for a rainy day. Some were physical weapons like the Glock 43 he kept under his desk or the switchblade he kept holstered to his thigh. He also liked to keep people with special abilities hidden in the secretarial pool, IT, accounting.

One of those people was you. You worked in accounting. You were good with numbers and a quick learner. You handled payroll for the Avengers. That was Fury’s way of keeping you familiar with the team so it would be easy to install you once your abilities were needed.

When SHIELD acquired you, you were living in the Catskills with your coven. It was peaceful. You all possessed great power but your ability to disrupt electrical equipment was particularly interesting to him. There wasn’t a security system or electrical grid that you couldn’t dismantle.

Fury did not fully understand the breadth of your powers. He didn’t know you were an empath who could also control emotions. Your coven hated that power. They always felt manipulated. Sometimes you weren’t even aware you were doing it. Before they were all killed, you and your mother were working on controlling it. Since that day, you were having a really hard time. You had nightmares every time you closed your eyes.

A very powerful family, the Kales got wind that your coven was growing more and more powerful. Fearing they would be overtaken, they unleashed a demon onto the grounds. Your whole coven was obliterated. You managed to cloak yourself inside of a warded safe room. You tried to pull your mother inside when she heard the demon screeching through the halls. She pushed you in, pressed the shut down button and you never saw her again. Once everything felt clear, you emerged furious and afraid. You found their bodies with their eyes still open. Even in death they looked terrified. You worked a spell your mother had given you in case of a tragedy such as this. The spell allowed you to absorb all of their powers. Once they all converged a blast emanated through you leveling the grounds and turning their bodies to piles of ash. The blast was felt for miles alerting SHIELD. That’s how Fury found you.

He offered you a home, a job and a seat at his very secret table. You knew there were others like you but he kept their names to himself.

You were happy in your office running payroll. No one bothered you. You didn’t have to feel anything. Even when you secretly went on missions, you were miles away. At times, though, there was no amount of distance you could put in between you and the tension of a fight.

You would feel it all. Fear. Hate. Pain. So much pain. You thought sometimes the heroes forgot the bad guys were capable of feeling anything. You could feel the pain when they watched their friends die in front of them. The pain they felt taking their final breaths wishing they could say goodbye to their loved ones. So much pain. It was blinding for you. Fury could see some times were far too intense for you though he wasn’t sure why. He thought maybe introducing you to some other witches would be helpful.

He first introduced you to Wanda. She was warm and thoughtful. You felt calm around her. She helped you as much as she could but was still learning herself. Next he introduced you to Loki. When Fury suggested you two meet, he said you would have to keep it to yourself. He was not always wanted by the Avengers after his attack on New York. They solicited his help when absolutely necessary. Loki, however, was one of the secret weapons he liked to keep around...for a rainy day.

Wanda went with you to the training facility. You asked that she come as back up. From what you knew of Loki he could be temperamental. You could feel her nerves which made you more nervous. This was one of those times you wished you had control at least over yourself.

He was waiting perched precariously on a chair regarding you both with silent amusement. You and Wanda were holding hands. You may as well have been clutching one another like scared children. The tension was palpable. He stood to greet you. Each movement was graceful and cool as hell. That’s how you would always describe him. Cool as hell.

He was dressed in, what you thought, was as close to casual as Loki would wear. He wore a sweater in his signature deep emerald, black slacks and shiny black dress shoes. A simple gold watch peaked out of the cuff on his left wrist.

He held out a hand long fingers caressing your palms snaking around you. With a firm grip he shook it gently. “Pleasure to meet you. You must be Y/N. Director Fury has told me precious little about you. But, if you are here with me, you must have something he wants desperately.”

You started to calm down. He didn’t seem like he was as bad as everyone made him out to be. Wanda was still on guard. “Nice to meet you too.” You said. It came out more confident than you intended.

He smiled at Wanda who perked up a little. They had a few run ins in the past. Most of them pleasant. They were not really friends but understood one another.

When Loki was in the compound he was very much an outsider. Mortals apparently held grudges. It’s not like he destroyed the entire planet....only Midtown Manhattan. After all, he was burdened with a glorious purpose to destroy anything his brother loved. Even still, the Avengers used him on certain missions and called upon him when they needed intel on every manner of intergalactic evil. Wanda Maximoff was the only one of them who did not treat him like he was evil incarnate. She was treated like she was part of the family but they feared her abilities. None of them wanted to admit that she was stronger than all of them.

“So” Loki said clapping his hands, “Would you like to show me?”

“Show you what exactly?” You were being coy. You wiggled your fingers and all of the lights went out.

He scoffed, “Come on, darling. Don’t hold back. I can feel your power surging.” You cocked an eyebrow, closed your eyes and every light bulb shattered. Sparks and glass rained down. Wanda held her hands up releasing a shield to stop the three of you from being shredded.

“Not bad. Not bad at all. What else can you do?” Feeling over confident you took his hand. Closing your eyes once more you felt a strong vibration roll through your body into Loki. When you opened your eyes he was openly sobbing.

“Stop it!” he begged. “You stop this now, mortal.” You let him go both of you breathing hard. Loki regained his composure looking on to Wanda who was smiling.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to...it was too much.”

“Y/N, don’t apologize. He asked you to show him.” Wanda was running her hand over your shoulders.

“She’s right, pet. Never apologize. I don’t think you even have a full understanding of your powers. I feel more in you than you might be aware of.”

“I don’t know how to control it. It’s too much to feel everything all the time.”

He gave you a knowing smile. Fury was right, you were hiding something. Loki wasn’t ready to share with him. Not just yet. He liked puzzles and you were an interesting one. “I can help you. I’ve had centuries of practice. I can help you both.”

Wanda was a little uneasy again. You could tell she was seriously mulling it over in her head. “I shouldn’t. Steve and Nat wouldn’t approve.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed “Ah yes. I forget. Tell me, Miss Maximoff, do you ever get tired of being caged like you are? First with Hydra now the Avengers. Never truly living up to your fullest potential. It must be exhausting controlling all of that power when, with a flick of your wrist, you could end them all.”

“Control is truly my super power. It’s what makes me strong.” Wanda was clenching her fists. Red sparks fell from her hands. Her eyes glowed as she inched closer to Loki. All of this was terribly amusing to him. “What would happen if you really unleashed what was inside of you?”

Wanda smiled and cocked her head to the side. For a moment you thought they were going to kiss. “This planet would turn to ash. That’s why I vow to defend it. I straddle a fine line between total annihilation and world peace. I guess it just depends on my mood.”

“What a pair we’d make.” The tension was palpable. You watched as they stared each other down. You thought of trying to lighten the mood but, in the state you were in, it wouldn’t likely work. Luckily Wanda relented first. “It’s always good to see you Loki.” she said with a sweet smile.

“The feeling is quite mutual, Miss Maximoff.” His smile was warm and sincere.

“Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Uh. Yeah I guess.”

Loki kissed your knuckles, “Until we meet again, darling.” And with that he vanished.

Wanda was quiet on the ride back to the compound. When you pulled in she let out a heavy sigh. She was aching to ask you something but wasn’t brave enough to get out the words. It was rare that she was put in charge of anything much less a new recruit. “Just say what you want to say, Wanda. You’ll feel better.”

“Damn it. Ok. Fury asked me to invite you in for dinner. He wants you to meet the rest of the team. Also, not a word of this Loki business to anyone. Understand?”

“And if I say no to dinner?”

Her eyes locked on yours. “Not really a request.”

“Noted.” You took a deep breath “It might be nice to meet everyone. Maybe. I need a damned helmet or something to block it all out.”

“Don’t stress. You’ll get there. If it’s too much say so and I’ll come up with an excuse to walk you out. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You held her hand as you entered the front door. You were trying to feed off of her. You did relax a little. When you saw the crew your anxiety got the best of you. “Don’t worry,” she said squeezing your fingers “you’ll be great.”

The first person you met was Steve. His smile lit up his whole face. He extended his hand to you. You all but leapt into his arms. “Y/N welcome aboard. We’re all friends here. I’m sure you’re nervous but you have no reason to be.”

“Captain Rogers, it’s great to finally meet you.”

He waved you off. “Please. Call me Steve. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the group.”

You never let go of Wanda’s hand. It was like she was tethering you to the ground. You were so overwhelmed you thought you might cry. You gave her a taste of what you were feeling. She squeezed your hand tighter. “I have you ok? Just say the word.” You nodded and followed him into the dining area. Everyone was very nice. Some of them looked a bit confused. You said hello as Steve introduced you around. You got little waves and smiles. Thor was already stuffing his face. He said hello with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. You giggled to yourself. Slowly you were letting Wanda go moving ever so closer to Steve. Honestly the man felt like a warm summer day.

You were just about to relax when you heard the syrupy smooth baritone voice intrude your space. “Honestly, brother. You are a king. Show some decorum.” Loki took your hand and leaned in to speak so only you could hear him, “I thought this might be a good place for our first lesson.” You shrank a little at his touch. Wanda raised her hands ready to let him have it when he winked at her. You gave her a look letting her know you were ok. You really felt more at ease with him there.

“What’s my lesson?” You whispered back. “Control, pet. You’re practically swooning over the Captain. Everyone can feel it. Deep breaths. Reign it in.” You blushed and did as he said. You let your heart rate slow and calmed yourself. You focused on Loki and Wanda who helped you ground yourself. The three of you seemed almost plugged in to one another. This is the first time you’ve felt yourself since you were last with your coven.

“Oh who invited Elsa?” Tony groaned

“I did” Thor chimed in “I want to keep an eye on him.”

“No tricks tonight, Loki. I mean it.” Steve said through a clenched jaw. Loki morphed into a clone of Steve. “I mean it” he mocked wagging his finger at everyone “I just do not understand how you fit through the door. Your head is so big full of self righteousness.”

“Hey! Jack Frost! Thin ice, buddy.” Steve said as he planted his hands on his hips.

“Loki behave” Thor pleaded.

He was showing off for you. It was kind of cute. Loki laughed holding his hands in surrender, “No more tricks. Just here to have dinner and chat with the lovely new recruit.”

He pulled out your chair when you came back with your plate. Your hands trembled a bit. He placed his hand on your knee and squeezed. “You ok, darling?”

“I think so. Steve does not like you.” You giggled to yourself.

“I don’t think you need special abilities to see that, dear.” Wanda laughed too. She was across the table but could hear what you were saying.

Steve sat next to Wanda so he could get to know you better. “So, Y/N. Accounting. That must be fun.”

“Actually it is. I like numbers. They are predictable when the rest of the world isn’t.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Tony added.

“Director Fury tells us that’s not your only talent.” Your cheeks warmed. Wanda tuned into your conversation in case you needed a quick interruption. You pressed your leg against Loki’s looking for your tether again. He reciprocated.

“I’m not sure exactly what Fury told you...”

“That you can knock out power grids and security systems. Saves us a lot of trouble” Natasha said before she took a gulp of wine.

“Oh. That. Yes. I do possess the power of Electrokinesis.”

“So you’re like Wanda and Loki but with a back up plan.” Rhodey added

“I suppose that’s true.” You cleared your throat noticing the side conversations stopped and more eyes were on you. They all had so many questions. Some of them, including Steve, were wondering just how powerful you were. “Can someone show me to the rest room?” Steve stood up but Wanda jumped up too. “Sit down, Steve. I’ll show her.”

You were holding your breath. “You ok?”

“Yeah. I just needed to get out of there for a minute. You splashed cold water on your face and took some deep breaths “I feel like I’m being interrogated.” Wanda rubbed your back and shoulders. “Want to go?”

“No. I’m ok. Will the two of you stay close?” By two you meant her and Loki.

“I can but Loki shouldn’t. They’ll think he’s up to something. I’m sure he won’t be far though.” You nodded, took one more deep breath and geared up for round two of more questions. When you turned the corner Steve was leaning against the door waiting for you.

“Hey. Are you ok? We can be a lot.” Steve was genuinely concerned which made you feel better. “Wanda can you give us a minute?” He asked.

“Y/N, I won’t be far.” She gave your hand a final squeeze and went back into the dining room. You looked down at your shoes and picked at your nails. You had butterflies in your stomach and a lump forming in your throat.

“I just thought you could talk to me for a little while without anyone else chiming in.”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“How much are you like Wanda?”

“You mean how how powerful am I?” Steve blushed at the question. “I’m powerful enough, Captain Rogers. Please, make no mistake, I am not part of this team. As far as you are all concerned, I print your paychecks.” You didn’t know where this new found confidence was coming from but you decided to ride it out.

“Wait. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just like to know who I’m getting into bed with. I’ve been burned in the past.”

You gave him a weak smile before walking away. “Haven’t we all?”

You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away. You found Wanda and let her know you were leaving. She hugged you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah. Can you say goodbye to everyone else for me? I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Of course. Text me when you get home.”

You hurried out of the compound to the garage when you felt a presence. You smiled. “Loki it’s not nice to sneak up on people.”

“Sorry, pet. I hope you weren’t going leave without saying goodbye.” He pouted.

“I assumed I’d see you soon since we’re ’training’ now.” He moved closer to you. Your breath caught in your chest and you stammered, “Do you need a ride?”

“No. Thank you. I am staying with Thor tonight. I know all of this is a lot. My mother was like you. An Empath. She felt everything. She learned to not let it consume her. I hope I can help you to do the same. It won’t be easy. I’ll push you and you’ll hate me for it. But, I will help you to take control.” You didn’t know why but you trusted him.

“Thank you. I appreciate you doing this. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.” He smiled at you making you feel warm.

“Nothing I’d honestly rather do than help you.” You hugged him. At first his whole body was stiff but then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around you. Without another word you got into your car and drove away.

Back at work the next morning you were happy to slip back into your isolated routine. You popped in your earbuds and turned on your computer. A message popped up from Fury’s office simply stating “Training room B 30 minutes”. You let out a deep sigh took a swig of your too hot coffee and kissed your life of solitude goodbye.

[goldencuffs]

shady businessmen au

damen/laurent + lazar/laurent ns//fw

The entire room was clouded with smoke. Everything was hazy, covered in a thick film of white, and the acridness in the air was addicting, sharp. Damen felt lazy because of it; he was drunk, sated, and now he had Laurent in his lap, eager and slutty.

 But even as Laurent kissed under his jaw and mapped his hands over Damen’s chest, Damen couldn’t completely relax. He absent-mindedly gripped Laurent’s hair, fingers settled into the nape of his neck as he thought of the disastrous meeting from earlier. He had lost total control of it. It had been a humiliating experience, only amplified by the disappointed look his father had given him during the video call after. 

 Laurent’s hand slipped down his waistband. “Stop thinking so much.”

 Damen grunted. Across the room, Lazar Lamonte, the new successor of Lamonte Enterprises, was laughing with his associates, a cigar hanging from his mouth.

 Damen had never hated anyone like this before. Looking at him now, Damen felt the familiar curl of disdain in his chest. It made him furious to see Lazar’s complacent smirk, the glint in his eyes as he sat back in his chair, sprawled and slack, like the dirty merchant he was.

 This dinner, held at one of the many restaurants Lazar owned, was the worst part of all this. Their dinner had been lavish, with a surfeit of ostentatiously presented food and drink. Everyone had enjoyed the food and drinks and the cigars, except Damen. He knew Lazar had only set up the entire event to rub his victory into Damen’s face, and not as an act of goodwill. 

 It was frustrating; he couldn’t place exactly what had gone wrong with the meeting — and that had ultimately flustered him.

 “Damen, forget about Lazar for one second,” Laurent murmured into his ear. “I literally have my hand on your cock. Just relax a bit.”

 Damen pulled sharply at Laurent’s hair and revelled in the small, hitching sound he made in the back of his throat. He kissed Laurent’s pulse point, let his tongue lick across it in a soothing gesture, and said, “Get down on your knees.”

 The noise Laurent made this time was almost silent; it left his mouth in a hiss, but he was enthusiastic in his compliance. He slipped off Damen’s lap, settling in between his legs instead, right underneath the lip of the table.

 “Now?” said Nikandros, mouth turning.

 Damen raised an eyebrow as Laurent nuzzled his crotch through his jeans, tongue wetting the fabric. “As if you’re not going to watch,” he said, and was gratified by Nikandros’ predictable twitching jaw.

 Along their table, all of Damen’s associates were pretending to adopt an air of indifference, but their eyes were darkening, pants unzipping.

 Laurent was sated, too; he was slow as he mouthed over Damen’s cock, kissing and moaning along his erection, his warm mouth making these low, gorgeous moans that had Damen gripping him again.

 Laurent tongued his slit, then kissed it, swallowing down Damen with an ease that had taken months of practice. His expression was serene as he went down on Damen, and Damen couldn’t look anywhere else, even though he was distantly aware of all the eyes on him, on them.

 Laurent made another little noise against Damen’s straining cock that had Damen’s hips twitching. Laurent’s wide, blown out eyes flickered to him, gaze sultry as he slid further down Damen’s cock, his manicured fingers wrapped around the base. Damen held Laurent’s head still and leveraged up, fucking his face for a few moments as his orgasm took hold. Laurent choked, gagging, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow down the cum flooding his mouth. Damen continued to hold him down until Laurent pinched his thigh. Damen shoved him off, the both of them gasping, flushed.

 Laurent laid his head on Damen’s thighs, breath stuttering.

 Damen pushed back his hair. “Get up here, sweetheart.”

 Laurent’s movements were even slower now; he was like jelly as he placed himself back on Damen’s lap, docile and sweet.

 “Did you come?” Damen asked, thumb tracing Laurent’s lower lip.

 Laurent flushed and nodded. Damen smirked; Laurent was always particular when it came to orgasming, and he almost never did when he sucked Damen off, but like this, with everyone watching, it had been inevitable.

 Damen kissed Laurent, let their mouths slide against each other, lazy and hungry in post-coital bliss.

 Lazar’s eyes were glued to Laurent when they broke apart.

 Damen instinctively wrapped his arms around Laurent’s waist. Still, Lazar stared at Laurent openly, his expression awed.

 It reminded Damen of the look Lazar had during the meeting as well. Since he had walked in, he had been belligerent and arrogant.

 The only thing that had caught and held his attention was —

 Laurent seemed to be aware of what Damen was thinking. He cast Lazar a brief glance, which made Lazar smirk, eyes dark, mouth wolfish.

 When Laurent turned back to him, Damen snapped out, “Absolutely not.”

 Laurent kissed him again, conciliatory. Speaking into his ear, Laurent said, “You know I’ll listen to you no matter what.” He bit Damen's earlobe, then his jaw. “But if you really want his partnership, you have to let him —”

 “I’m not letting that slimy motherfucker touch you.” Damen almost growled it; there was a bubbling in his chest that was consuming.

 Laurent said, “Alright.”

 The night went on. Damen should have been content; he’d had two orgasms in the span of thirty minutes and Laurent was getting that look on his face that suggested he was going to strip down and let Damen have his way with him any minute now.

 Unfortunately, all Damen could think about was how much his own company needed Lazar’s support to go through. A lesser part of him also wanted his father’s approval — but he’d rather kill anyone who suggested it than admit to it.

 After several hours, when the night was well and truly over, Damen pulled Laurent closer to him. “He gets twenty minutes. And I'm staying in the room the whole time.”

 Laurent smiled. He kissed Damen sweetly, lovingly, even has he writhed in his lap. “As you wish.”

 *

 Damen sat rigid and still in one of the most comfortable armchairs he had ever been in, watching Lazar run his hands over Laurent’s naked body.

 They were in one of Kastor’s holiday houses; Damen wasn’t stupid enough to let Lazar fuck Laurent in their own bed, in their home. When all this was over, Damen was going to torch this place down.

 Lazar’s mouth had been set in a rectangular, egotistic smile when Laurent had approached him after dinner. He looked like he had been ready to fuck Laurent right there, but Damen didn’t want that. He wanted to set up rules, boundaries for both himself and Laurent.

 It was why they were here, away from everyone else. The timer on Damen’s phone had been set for exactly twenty minutes, which Lazar had looked amused by, and Laurent was down on his hands and knees, facing Damen, eyes locked on him.

 Lazar was hasty in his preparation; whether that was because of the time limit, or because he was overtly eager to enter Laurent’s body, Damen didn’t know.

 Lazar bottomed out into Laurent with a long, drawn out moan. It was the ugliest sound ever.

 “Fuck,” Laurent said, eyebrows knitting, mouth open.

 Damen watched him, fists clenched. They didn’t do this. Damen and Laurent were exclusive, and while they talked about men fucking Laurent all the time, that was fantasy, spurred on by Damen’s possessiveness, and Laurent’s openness with sex.

 The most they ever did was let others watch them, because Laurent was a performer at heart; when Damen had seen him on stage at that shitty burlesque club, all those years ago, he had been obsessed. Still was, in a lot of ways.

 Lazar’s hands gripped onto Laurent’s hips, tight, but not hard enough to leave bruises. Damen could still see Laurent’s skin reddening underneath his touch, though.

 It took everything in Damen’s body to keep seated. His only solace was Laurent, who hadn’t stopped looking at Damen, his gaze tender.

 Lazar’s thrusts were hard and rough, but clumsy. His strides were not rhythmic; Laurent seemed to be struggling to anticipate the pace.

 “Fuck yeah,” Lazar grunted under his breath, hands clawing the meat of Laurent’s ass, spreading him so he could watch himself impale Laurent.

 Laurent let out a gasp, knees sliding across the sheets, spreading his thighs wider.

 It felt like it went on forever. Damen wanted to check the timer, but if he looked away from Laurent, even for a second, he thought he might die.

 It was evident Laurent wanted to cum, but Lazar’s thrusts were too uncoordinated, and he was too selfish to care about Laurent’s release.

 So Damen said quietly, “Touch yourself for me, sweetheart.”

 “Don’t fucking interfere,” Lazar attempted to snap, his voice breathy, blissed out.

 “Shut up,” Damen said. Nodding to Laurent, he said in soft Akielon, “Go on.”

 Laurent’s hand snaked down to his own cock, his movements tight and fast. He immediately started gasping out small huffy moans, and for the first time since Lazar had touched Laurent, Damen was hard.

 Lazar smacked Laurent’s ass, and Laurent cried out. Damen gritted his teeth.

 “Fuck,” said Lazar, laughing breathlessly. He shot Damen a predatory grin, full of teeth. “Now I get why you killed your own brother for him.”

 Damen’s expression remained impassive, even as he considered murdering Lazar, too.

 Laurent’s moans grew louder as he thumbed his slit. Damen wanted to take him in his mouth, coax more of those sounds for him.

 As Laurent neared his release, he seemed incapable of looking away from Damen. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. He was trying to give Damen this, this part of him no one else could touch.

 Back arched, neck flushing a beautiful crimson, Laurent gasped out, “Daddy,” and came.

 That was enough, Damen decided.

 Lazar was still thrusting, the sound of skin slapping, disgusting, cloying in the air. Damen didn’t care about the timer.

 He walked over to the bed, pulled out his Glock and placed the cold metal to Lazar’s forehead. Lazar stilled, eyes wide.

 “Time’s up,” said Damen.

[tatertotsforsupper]

This guy has some interesting thoughts about the 2nd ammendment and WHY we have it.

I know you’ll probably just brush over this post and call me a redneck hick or something, but I’m going to put the time to give an actual response to this because I think it’s very important that people understand why the Second Amendment is so important.

The use of this trite ‘drones’ argument is to suggest that America’s military power is far too powerful for the people to defeat, thereby making gun ownership for defense against Government tyranny unnecessary. The idea that the one with the bigger stick always wins is a common mistake. People often forget how the country started with a bunch of traitors and revolutionaries who were able to defeat the immensity of the British military.

If this argument was taking place in the 60’s, people would be shouting ‘napalm’ rather than ‘drones’, and yet napalm did very little in stopping the US from being defeated by a bunch of rice burning, pajama wearing, tunnel dwelling

Vietnamese. And speaking of pajama wearing, what about Afghanistan? You go find Al Qaeda and tell them about ‘drones’ and they will be quick to remind you that they were able to drag the US into an eleven-year, unsustainable war, the cost which helped lead America to an incredible financial crisis. If a bunch of cave-dwellers struggling with the cocking handle of Soviet-era AK-47’s can keep a war going for eleven years, thinks of what well-educated, well-armed, partially experienced American citizens could accomplish.

The point is not that you can win pitched battles against a modern professional military with all its weaponry as a ragtag citizen’s militia with small arms. The point is that you can fight.

You can bleed them. When the US Army come patrolling through your neighborhood, you might be able to take a few of them with you. Hell, you might be able to run away and do it again and again- theoretically, you wouldn’t be alone, and they couldn’t possibly engage in endless manhunts for every single person who dared to resist them. And they’d never feel safe, with the possibility of a sniper behind every window.

Of course the Army could call in artillery and air support to just level your neighborhood. What would this get them? Well, it would piss off a lot of people off when innocents die, and play into the hands of the rebels. It would make a lot of soldiers in the professional military seriously consider whether they were doing the right thing or not, whether they were on the good guys’ side. And finally, it would simply kill innocent people.

A drone strike might look effective when shooting at some desert hut, but that wouldn’t translate well to domestic, civil war. Every citizen the Feds bomb is one less taxpayer, one less worker, one less consumer. Every building is one less factory, one less office building, one less residence. Every bomb the Feds would drop on its own soil and people is destroying their own precious resources. Hardly a sustainable way to wage war. Every bomb dropped also invites more and more revolutionaries. If you thought civilian deaths in the Middle East brought outrage here, think about what American civilian deaths would bring.

Let’s say that two-hundred people gathered outside the Pentagon, protesting and screaming for blood? What is the Government going to do, bomb their own military installation? How is that drone going to stop an unarmed protest,

or even effectively distinguish between an unarmed protest and an armed one? How will that drone confiscate weapons and apprehend major revolutionary figureheads? Its been said before and I’ll repeat it, police states need police. Grunts on the ground. And that grunt is in for a bad day when he is head to head with an equally armed American citizen behind every door. In a few seconds, a simple Google search can show you all the shortcomings of drones and how one could combat them.

Further, this argument ignores the human element. Killing rag-heads video game style is one thing, but how is that drone operator going to feel when he is forced to drop bombs on his own countrymen? His brothers and sisters and friends. How quickly are those politicians- who we are so quick to call slimy and self-interested- going to switch sides to save their own skin? Even without this almost certainly occurring variable, military and police amount to a few million while civilians equal hundreds of millions. The military and government could not possibly just kill everyone who resisted them. Nobody wants to rule over a nation of corpses.

The aim of a tyrant is to control, not to kill. What they want is to be able to have militarized police point guns at people and cow them into submission to whatever dictates they might want to impose. If those people are instead waiting behind their doors and ready to shoot first when the jackbooted thugs come around, they’ve already failed.

So the point is to fight. If you resist, you’re not being controlled, and you’re also undermining attempts to control others who can’t or won’t fight; you might die, of course. That’s more or less why Patrick Henry famously said “Give me Liberty, or give me Death!”

As long as people can resist, they can be free, and tyrants can never succeed. But when you’re talking about people who have no firearms using swords and knives and clubs against modern military weapons it actually becomes pointless, because you can’t bleed them at all- they’ll just gun you down.

Finally, even if the Federal government and military were infinitely more well-armed and the chances of victorious revolution against its tyranny was one in a million, so what? Should we just give up without even trying to fight and submit to the jackboot of tyranny? What ever happened to Live Free Or Die? Aren’t our freedoms worth fighting for no matter the odds; are they not worth dying for?

The people who wrote the Second Amendment understood what Government oppression was. They knew what revolution entailed. And they understood that the American people may have to do something similar to what they did to ensure they remained free. So they made sure guns would be available for all citizens. But the main reason their ownership should continue is not to fight a war, but to prevent one. The Second Amendment protects the rest of our rights, and is a constant reminder to the Government that an act of unwarranted aggression against its people can be swiftly retaliated against. Ultimately, its not about guns. It is about liberty.

That’s why having guns is so important.

Put in simpler terms:

A fighter jet cannot stand on street corners and enforce no-assembly edicts.

A fighter jet cannot kick down your door at 3:00 in the morning to search for contraband or anti-social propaganda.

A fighter jet is useless for maintaining a police state.

Police are needed to maintain a police state. And no matter how many police you have, they are always out-numbered by the people, which is why tyrants throughout history have considered it vital that police have automatic weapons, while their subjects have nothing but sticks.

But when every random pedestrian might have a Glock hidden in his waistband or by his bedside, kicking down those doors suddenly becomes a lot riskier, lest you catch a bullet on your way in.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

IMAGINE: Introduction

a successful Black woman named Tatyana is living the dream. She’s married to the love of her life and has two children by him. What happens when her marriage is on the rocks? Tatyana finds solice and unimaginable dick in a drug kingpin named Erik a.k.a Killa.

Warnings: Smut, Drug Dealer!Erik, Dominant!Erik. Entanglements lmaoo, Nasty Talk.

Suggested listenings: King Von- F**k Yo Man

The most feared trap house in Grove Park ATL. The name speaks for itself. It’s a place where drug dealers peddle their poison. The biggest dealer in Grove Park of illicit drugs traps people into his business. Once you are into organized crime activities, you may find it difficult to come out of it...especially alive. Big-time drug trafficker and kingpin Erik Stevens; Daddy E or Killa, makes millions of dollars a month selling opiates such as opium, heroin, morphine and codeine; MDMA better known as ecstasy; strong stimulants such as cocaine and crack cocaine; LSD if you want to hallucinate; Xanax illegally, better known as Z-bars or Zannies, and of course weed. 

The Trap House is a bungalow style home on North Ave NW Atlanta, GA. It has a brand new front porch that overlooks a quiet corner lot in the heart of Atlanta. The outside of the single-family home is painted grey. It has a regular setting with children playing and the home is usually managed like a regular household by a middle-aged woman named Michelle, also known as the Trap Queen. She’s Killa’s godmother. Anyone who isn’t involved with the physically and psychologically hazardous activities happening within the Trap House would think it’s a standard family home. It’s all a hoax. 

Killa and his group of duffle bag boys usually come in the late-night hours during the week, every other weekend, or the third day of the month. Loud trap music blares from the home, signifying that they are working. Killa’s matte black Mercedes-Benz G Wagon with black rims is the only car he drives to work at the Trap House. The living room is simply furnished with a clean-cut black leather sectional sofa, and a wall-mounted flat screen used for surveillance of the entire home. The kitchen isn’t anything special except for the refrigerator filled with different types of Hennessy. 

The dining room is used for the dealers to play spades, dominoes, or gamble when there isn’t much to do except keep watch of the area. The main bathroom is a safe way to flush stash if need be but there was little concern for that since Killa has crooked cops in his circle. The three bedrooms all serve a purpose. The master bedroom or the Clandestine Chemistry Room is used as a drug laboratory to illegally manufacture drugs such as PCP, LSD, MDMA, Fentanyl, and Meth. The middle room has some local trap girls counting money with various bank machines and UV counterfeit detection lamps. 

The last and smallest room is the artillery room or The Heat Room. Various guns like shotguns, Uzi’s, Smith & Wesson, Taurus 9MM, GLOCK INC 9MM and .45, and Sig Sauer P938 are stored in that room. Killa makes it mandatory that the Trap House is cleaned and no traces left behind every other weekend. He has a few storage units in Atlanta where he keeps everything when shipments come in. He’s always watching his men because he wants to make sure none of them are snitching to the feds. They wouldn’t dare to anyway because they knew where their fate would end up if they did. 

Killa and the rest of the dealers were working in the Trap House on a Saturday evening. Killa is seated on his black leather sectional wearing a white beater, black and red basketball shorts, and Air Jordan 1s. He has a simple gold cross chain hanging from his neck and a gold and black Versace watch on his left wrist. Killa’s dreads are wild and tapered with the sides cut into a fade. He has bright white teeth lined with gold slugs behind his thick lips, a sinewy body covered in tattoos on his arms, chest, neck, and back, and black diamond studs in his ears. Evidently from the description of his physical appearance he’s absolutely sexy; fine; handsome; good-looking. 

Killa’s obsidian eyes are unyielding as he watches the surveillance. His dark, unruly brows furrow when he notices a figure approach the Trap House. Killa turns down the music playing from the Bluetooth speakers before grabbing his gold chrome Glock, holding it behind his back at waist level. He walked up to the door, peering through the peephole to see who it was approaching. With an annoyed grunt, Killa opens the door to find one of his dealers carrying a black and grey duffel bag most likely filled with his money. 

“Where the fuck have you been nigga?” He asked with an icy tone of voice, “you were supposed to show up a few hours ago with my money,” Killa checks the outside surroundings with a quick sweep of his eyes before opening the door wider, snatching the bag from his dealer's shoulder so harshly that the dealer’s arm was almost pulled from its socket.

“My fault, Killa, the drug deal started a little later than it was supposed to. They ain’t show up until thirty minutes after...I thought they were tryna jug me out of the deal.” 

Killa didn’t care for the explanation, all he was worried about was his money and if it was there.

“Rick, go to Stella and tell her there’s more money to count. I wanna know how much is here. Make sure she does it right too,” Killa hands Rick, his most trusted duffel bag boy and sometimes henchmen, the money.

“Keith, right?” Killa says with hard unwavering eyes and a stony face, “You got one more time to be late. If you keep that shit up working for me then these other niggas around here will try and be on that same shit too...I don’t play bout’ my drugs, and most of all I don’t play bout’ dat payola… Yen know before you decided to be in this game, nigga?” 

“Yo, Killa, I promise you, this shit won’t happen again,” He pleaded.

“Yeah, Aight, we’ll see,” Killa was standing at 6’3, “Lets take a trip to the money room.” 

Walking to the money room, Killa was greeted with ebony beauties dressed half-naked counting money. The UV of the room made their acrylic nails glow. Nothing but juicy ass and titties handling Daddy E’s money. Stella, a redbone with her bleach-blonde hair styled in six stitch braids was on the last stack of money from the duffel bag. Killa strolled over to Stella, lightly tapping her on the ass which caused her to blush and smile. 

“Hey, Daddy E. I’m almost finished,” She started up the counting machine while tapping it with her lime green stiletto nails. Once it was finished and she wrapped it in rubber bands, she allowed Killa to read the total. He felt like he was about to burst with rage. Stella made herself scarce and went to the other side of the room. Keith stood confused and from the deranged look on Killa face he knew he was in trouble. 

Killa raised a single dark brow, “You must think I’m stupid, where is the rest of my fucking money?” 

“I promise you, that’s all of it, Killa,” Keith says while fear throbbed inside of him. 

“Like I said, you think I’m a fool? Nigga...if I let you get away with this shit then other niggas will steal from me too, I’m not finna have that shit,” Killa says while chuckling, “NOW WHERE IS THE REST OF MY FUCKING MONEY AT HOMIE?!”

“What’s going on Killa?” Rick walks in holding his strap.

“I told you this nigga is wishy washy, Rick,” Killa pointed his gold chrome Glock to the amount of money, “This is counting out 95G’s I’m missing 5G’s!!!” Killa felt himself getting even madder than he was before. Rick gives Keith a dirty look before charging up to him, balling up the front of his shirt within his large hulking fist.

“WHERE IS IT?” Rick asks with clenched teeth and spit flying menacingly.

“You better get it out of him before I end this nigga life, Rick. I’m itching to use my piece on this sell out, aint kill a nigga in a grip,” Killa cocks his gun, waiting for the perfect opportunity. If he lied, he was going to die and if he told the truth he was going to die. Either way, he’s dead. 

“Didn’t you hear me ask you a question?!!! Where is Killa’s money!!!!” Rick pistol-whipped Keith, watching his lanky body fall to the floor. Killa crouched down to his level with his gold chrome gun dangling in his left hand. He gives Keith a sinister smile with eyes so vicious it made you feel like you were in the presence of the devil. 

“What’s up with my money? And don’t lie to me,”  Killa’s voice was smooth and threatening. 

It was clear that panic fueled him. Killa could see right through him. The sweat on his face, the slight tremble of his body, the way his eyelids would flicker. Killa wordlessly points his Glock to Keith’s temple so hard it left a painful indentation from the barrel. 

“I have it,” He finally says, “It’s in my car.” 

Killa sniffled with rage before standing at his full height. He shared a look with Rick before placing his gold chrome Glock in the front of his shorts causing them to hang lower on his hips. 

“Let’s take this nigga to the spot,” Killa tells Rick before walking out of the room. 

“The what?!” Keith asks with his voice numb with shock. The more he talked, the more he stroked Killa’s anger. 

“Take him out back to the Escalade, Rick, and bring PAC wit’ you too.”

“Wait!!! Wait!!!! The money is in my car!!!!” Keith yelled while Rick man-handled him to his feet by the collar of his white T-shirt causing it to rip, “I can go get it!!!! It’s all there, Killa!!! I promise you, man, it’s all there!!!!!”

“Niggas always wanna beg and plead when they about to die, shit is lame,” Killa spoke mostly to himself before entering his gun room to grab his favorite piece. 

The black Escalade was the car that Killa used for committing murder. They have a designated spot which is a dirt-covered lot that overlooks Downtown Atlanta. The lot has a mechanic shop that Killa owns which is one of the businesses to clean up a few dollars; an easy way to legitimize the dirty money from the streets. Only his circle used the mechanic shop. 

Killa sauntered out back to the parked Escalade with his Uzi. He checked the trunk to make sure everything needed to dispose of the body in such a way as to prevent, hinder, or delay discovery of the body, to prevent identification of the body, or to prevent autopsy, was there. Usually, after he murders his victims, Killa will have the bodies wrapped in heavy-duty plastic and driven out to a rural farm that he also owns to bury them. If someone were to ask him how many bodies are decaying there, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Rick and another henchman nicknamed PAC-man carried a struggling Keith from the house and tossed him in one of the back seats of the Escalade. Rick hopped in the driver's seat, cranking up the car before pulling out into a back alley. 

“The house is getting cleaned up as we speak, Killa, here,” Rick hands him a handheld surveillance. 

“Thanks, Patna, nigga did you bring me a blunt? I forgot my shit back in the living room,” Killa says. 

“You lucky I rolled an extra one earlier,” Rick chuckled while passing Killa a freshly rolled blunt.

“Let’s get this shit over with so I can go see this broad,” Killa lights his blunt, takes a hit, and blows out smoke rings, “Aye, PAC, quiet that punk ass nigga down!!!” Killa yells over his shoulder, “Nigga crying too much...if you gotta gag that nigga do it...making my fucking ears hurt with all that bitch ass crying.” Rick and PAC-man share a laugh. 

“What broad you seeing anyway, Patna?” Rick asks. 

“Nicki,” Killa French inhaled the smoke while keeping his eyes on the rearview mirror. 

“The bitch who’s mama you selling crack to? Explain this shit because I’m lost.” 

Killa laughs, “For the record, I didn’t even know that was her mama until I saw both of them leaving Church’s Chicken. Anyway, she knows her mama is still smoking rocks...last time I had to check that old bitch,” Killa spits outside of the car window before licking his full lips. 

“Fuck, was she the one that came by the Trap House on Monday night?” Rick makes a left turn. 

“Bitch came banging on the door, Rick,” Killa shakes his head while stroking his goatee, “Begging me for some more crack. I told her old ass that she owes me 200 dollars for the crack I gave her a week ago...I only did that shit because Nicki didn’t have it to pay for it...why did this dry pussy bitch get down on her knees begging to suck my dick for some crack?!” Killa kisses his teeth, “I told her to take her ol’ ass off my porch before I put my foot in her. She ain’t getting no more from me until I get my money.” 

“Why don’t you just drop Nicki? That’s some wack ass drama, Killa, you know you don’t need that shit,”  Rick finally pulls into the dirt lot of the mechanic shop after a ten-minute ride. 

“The pussy is so damn good…” Killa left it at that. Nicki was Killa’s on-again, off-again booty call. She was the only girl that could match his freaky, that was before he met Tatyana. Saving the rest of the conversation for another day, Killa grabs his Uzi from between his legs before exiting the Escalade. He puts out his weed before placing it in his pocket. Rick and PAC-man grab the traitor from the back of the car, dragging him in the dirt before dropping him face-first about six feet away from Killa. 

“Aight, bring this nigga to his feet...face forward sneak nigga!!” Killa commanded before pointing his Uzi to the dealer's body, “There you go,” Killa congratulates Keith sarcastically, “Hold your chin up, Rick, grab his keys and wallet.” 

Rick cleans out his pockets before pushing him with his Nike boot covered foot. Keith stumbled while staring at the Uzi in Killa’s hand. He didn’t dare move. 

“Yeah...be a man and die right here like the rest of em’ you wanna steal from me? My money?” Killa spoke with squinted eyes and a tilt of his head, “I’m about to leave you layin’ where you standing.” 

Rick and PAC-man chuckle when they notice Keith wetting his pants. The dirt beneath his feet turned damp. 

“Ah, shit,” Killa laughs, “This nigga is pissing his pants…” Killa aims his Uzi for Keith’s left shoulder and shoots him. Keith screams with agony, clutching his shoulder. Killa shoots him in the hand that covered his shoulder. He paused again so that he could watch the mixture of pain and fear in Keith’s eyes. Maybe he was a sick, twisted individual for that but he thoroughly enjoyed watching his victims suffer before he really put their lights out. 

“Damn, I bet that shit burn,” Killa shoots him in his stomach, watching him fall to his knees, “Open your mouth, bitch, let that blood out,” Killa fired off two rounds in his chest, “you dip into my bag I kill you,” with those last words, Killa blasted Keith in his head between his eyes like the middle of a dart board. 

____________________

Tatyana Parham-Narvaez, a successful black business woman in Atlanta is best known for her line of intimate products and three luxury spa locations titled Tatyana’s Getaway. Tatyana’s Getaway boasts a fun yet relaxing environment that does not lose its chic and classic aesthetic. She believes that the overall experience is just as important as the quality of service that you receive. Licensed Esthetician,designer and Humanitarian, Tatyana holds yearly fundraisers to support other black owned businesses in Atlanta and also low income communities with food, beverages, clothing, and school supplies. 

Tatyana has cat-like mink brown eyes fringed with long lashes, cinnamon skin silken and glowing, a dainty nose with a ring, moist lush lips, a TWA with thick, dark brown spirals, short with generous curves, and a dulcet voice. She’s adventurous, some would consider that rebellious because she craves her freedom and can come off as quite the difficult ‘nesting partner’. She can be naive which explains her optimism, and she’s very independent. Tatyana never saw herself getting married but she found the love of her life just two years ago. His name is Carlos Narvaez and he’s an ex-convict turned businessman. Carlos Narvaez is a Party Promoter and famous Jeweler who moved from Miami to Atlanta five years prior. Los Ice and Gold is the place to go for many Atlanta rappers. 

Tatyana and Carlos first met each other at a mutual friends' album release party. It was his way with words, that dazzled her just like the ice around his neck and wrists. Usually, Tatyana would go for a much taller and more chiseled man but it was the way he articulated his words; bewitching her out of her panties, not to mention his beautiful smile and whiskey colored eyes. Carlos was the first man to ever sweep her off her feet with his mind rather than his dick. Carlos and Tatyana got married in Puerto Rico and just a year later they had a baby boy; Carlos Jayden Narvaez Jr, and soon after a baby girl; Nayelis Genesis Narvaez. Tatyana and her family live in Lawrenceville, GA, just 45 minutes outside of Atlanta. It’s a brick front suburban home with a driveway and a garage, four bedrooms and three bathrooms, a large family kitchen and dining area, a cozy living room, furnished basement, and a yard fit for summer occasions with a pool. 

As sweet and loving as it looks from the outside, Tatyana’s marriage is troubled. Carlos and Tatyana bicker a great deal; escalating out of control and into screaming matches, they don’t talk to one another about their problems and feelings, there is inequality between both of them concerning gender roles and decision making, and the level of sexual intimacy in their marriage is low or there isn't any at all. Since both of them are always so busy, Carlos Jr. and Nayelis spend more time at Tatyana’s parents' home than their own on weekdays. Although she has given birth to 2 children and married “the love of her life,” she still finds herself stepping out of her mundane life to mess with Erik. He’s EVERYTHING her mother warned her about—dangerous, doesn’t give a fuck, liable to shoot now and ask questions later yet is so damn enticing/addicting. 

Tatyana grew up in Bankhead,one of the places where Erik a.k.a Killa trafficked drugs. Tatyana’s baby sister, Tia, lives in Bankhead with her baby father and 8-month-old son named Demitri. From what Tatyana gathered about Erik when she saw him pull up in his matte black Mercedes Benz G Wagon is that he’s hood rich and he cares about his people. When Tatyana was leaving Tia’s home, Erik was talking to Miss Shay, Tatyana’s old babysitter, on her front porch. He was holding a white foam cup in his hand, and he was wearing a black beater with dark wash denim jeans and some black and white Jordan 1s on his feet. 

——————————————-

(Flashback) 

“Tati! Is that you?!”  Miss Shay yelled from across the street. She waved one slender and frail hand at Tatyana. Tatyana was still in her formal work attire; black pencil skirt, fitted peach colored blouse, and black peekaboo Christian Louboutin pumps. She walked across the street to Miss Shay, taking off her Fendi sunglasses and placing them within her Christian Louboutin black embellished clutch. 

“Miss Shay! Wow! You look amazing, you haven’t changed at all!!” Tatyana gives the elderly woman a gentle hug before kissing her cheek. She still wore that Sweet Honesty perfume by Avon. Miss Shay was known for being the Avon lady in Bankhead. 

“Me?! Child, look at you!” Miss Shay laughs before coughing slightly. Tatyana guesses that she is still smoking cigarettes, “Still just as pretty as ever! I was talking to Tia the other day about you, wondering how you were. It’s good to see you, Erik, do you remember Tatyana from daycare?” 

“Nah, auntie,” Erik says before taking a sip from his white foam cup, “I would have remembered shawty, trust me,” He brings the cup to his lips again, the gold watch on his wrist catching Tatyana’s eye. His stance was wide, shoulders squared, and brows furrowed slightly while his obsidian eyes never left Tatyana’s face for one second. 

“I was pretty quiet back then, and I didn’t like playing with the boys,” Tatyana says before blinking her eyes away from Erik. He’s attractive. Tatyana stole another glance, allowing her mink brown eyes to regard him from head to toe. Very attractive. The body art made his sinewy body appear more defined. She never knew a neck tattoo would look so good on a man. It’s a spade with a skull in the middle surrounded by shaded roses. She could feel his rugged energy and it made her shudder.

“That’s cuz y’all couldn’t keep up wit’ us, baby,” He laughs and it was so smooth and sexy. He must have a habit of licking his lips like LL Cool J, “And I liked picking on y’all quiet girls back then, I bet you say I don’t know a lot,” He smiles and the dimples blew her away, “I don’t know, maybe” he mocked with a sweet voice. 

“Jokes!!” Tatyana fought hard not to crack a smile but her lush lips turned up and her cheeks puffed out. Her laugh was a pleasant falsetto, “And you don’t know me like that so don’t come for me...Erik, right?” Tatyana says with an audacious tone. 

“Erik, leave Tati alone, please,” Miss Shay spoke with a stringent tone. Tatyana giggles, she can remember that tone of voice like it was yesterday when she was seven years old, “Tati, how are the children?”

“They’re fine, Carlos Jr. will be two in about four months, Nayelis will be seven months.” 

“I need a picture of them Tati!!! Erik bought me a cell phone, he’s been teaching me how to answer video calls and such.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Tatyana gives Erik a respectful gaze, “Well, let’s exchange numbers, Miss Shay, and I can send you some photos today.” 

“Oh! Let me go get my phone,” Miss Shay grabs the railing to her steps, pushing up onto her feet. Erik opens her screen door, making sure to watch her walk inside so she doesn’t trip and fall. 

“Careful, auntie, don’t trip over that part,” Erik was referring to the cracked concrete of her top step, “I thought I called somebody to come fix that? These motherfuckers man,” His irritation crackled, “You broke your toe because of that fucking step, ima give them a call when I leave.”

“Erik, calm down, don’t go roughing those damn people up because of a step.”

Erik closes the screen door behind Miss Shay. 

“She broke her toe?” Tatyana asks with concern. 

“Yeah, like five months ago. I’ve been coming to check up on her to make sure she's good. Dats my auntie right there, she means the world to me.” 

“I don’t know why I can’t remember you,” Tatyana says while her forehead creased in thought. 

“It’s cool, shawty, don’t stress your pretty head,” his eyes shot down to Tatyana’s matte brown lips, “Damn...you got some sexy ass lips.” 

“Excuse me?” Tatyana asks with a high-pitched tone. 

“Your lips, they're sexy. You got a man?” 

“I have a HUSBAND,” Tatyana clarified with a flippant tone. 

“Oooh, okay,” Erik held his hands up in surrender with a grin on his face, “You ain’t gotta get all mouthy on a nigga...my guess is he doesn’t know how to correct you.” 

“My guess is you have a habit of being in people’s business, Erik,” Tatyana spoke boldly, “and don’t no man correct me.”

“When I want to, yeah, I’ll make it my business. You’re feisty ain’t you?...how is ‘Hubby’ treating you Miss Tati?” 

Tatyana couldn’t believe the boldness of him. He didn’t waste any time trying to get at her. To be honest, Erik is the finest man she’s ever seen and that’s coming from a married woman. He didn’t need to know that, his head is already too big.

“None of your concern, Sir,” Tatyana shakes her head, laughing lightly. 

“I’m making it my concern though. Hubby doing what he’s supposed to? My guess is he’s not.” 

“Boy,” Tatyana rolled her eyes. Miss Shay was taking way too long to grab her cell phone. 

“Boy? Do I look like a boy?” He spoke harshly, “don’t be talking to me like you crazy Lil mama.” 

“I am crazy, but you don’t know me, remember?” Tatyana wasn’t about to hold her tongue with some hood ass, narcissistic motherfucker. 

“Yeah, I want you to keep that in mind and fix that shit before I fix you out here,” he warned her. 

“You ain’t fixing shit, who the fuck are you to be talking to me like that?” Tatyana was in disbelief. 

“You ain’t know?” He spoke arrogantly, “They call me Killa around here, ma,” he lowered his voice to a seductive lilt, “But you can call me Daddy E if you want, it’s up to you.” He says with a half-smirk. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Tatyana puts her Fendi sunglasses back on, “Can you tell Miss Shay that I had to run? I’ll just get her number from my sister Tia.”

“I’ll let her know,” Erik sips from his cup again, his eyes focused on Tatyana’s plush booty and shapely legs, “Now that I know Tia is your sister I’ll definitely be checking for you.”

“BYE, Killa,” Tatyana chucked up the deuces to Erik before entering her all-white Bentley. 

___________________________

 Erik was freshly showered and wearing a plain black T-shirt with a pair of G-Star relaxed fit black shorts and black Armani slides. There was a knock on the front door of his luxury Condo in Buckhead. The warm and stylish condo features a gourmet kitchen, three covered terraces, two bedrooms, and three bathrooms; one bathroom is a master bathroom with a side-entry shower. There is a wide-open living room that connects with his dining room. The building included an on-site lounge, a gym with views, and a palm-studded pool deck, and a spacious hot tub. 

Erik was only expecting one person tonight; Nicki. Nicole Brown a.k.a Nicki is Erik’s frequent fuck buddy. She’s slim-thick with round cognac eyes, thinly arched brows like Megan Good, golden skin with raised freckles on her face, heart-shaped lips with a gap between her teeth, and a full head of thick, voluminous 4B curls. She can be self-centered, and stubborn. Nicki hates being ignored and not being treated like she’s in the first place. There had been many occasions where Erik had to put Nicki in her place. It was strictly sex between them both...only sex. Erik hadn’t seen Nicki in a week and the girl was blowing his phone up with at least ten calls a day. He was about to stretch her little pussy wide the fuck open on his daddy dick, got to teach um they place so they can remember, he says. 

“Well? Can I come in, Daddy E,” Nicki says with a honeyed tone. The pink gloss on her lips matched her pink tongue and Erik couldn’t wait to stuff his pipe down her throat. 

“Hurry up,” Erik opened the door wider so Nicki could walk inside. She’s wearing a pair of little black stretchy shorts, a hot pink bandeau, and a pair of black mules on her feet. She has her toes and nails painted with baby blue gel polish on purpose because she knows how much Erik loves blue against her skin. 

“What have you been doing the past week,” Nicki takes off her shoes by the door, “I’m tired of you ignoring me, Erik. I missed you like crazy, you can’t be doing that,” Nicki threw her arms around Erik’s shoulders before kissing his thick lips, “mmm...minty,” She smiles.

“Don’t get too excited, we gotta talk first,” Erik removes her arms from around his shoulders, “did you want something to drink?”

“Nah, I’m good...what are we talking about?” Nicki takes a seat on his couch, “I have to talk to you as well...so my mom tells me that you threatened her? Fuck is going on with that?”

“You’re hella bipolar, didn’t you just walk in here telling me you missed me?”

“I did, and I still do, daddy, but you and I have a problem. She told me you threatened to kick her in the ass on Monday, E.”

“Did she?” Erik makes himself a small glass of Hennessy before joining Nicki on the couch. He takes a seat away from her, resting his back in the corner of the sectional couch, “did she tell you why I threatened her?”

“Doesn’t matter, THAT'S my mom, Erik. I know she’s going through some shit but don’t do that, I will kill you,” Nicki mouthed off. 

“You’ll kill me? With what? These hands?” Erik grabs Nicki’s small hands, laughing at how little she is compared to him, “you can’t even wrap your hand around my neck fully so cut that shit out.” 

“Whatever, asshole, DON'T threaten my mom again,” Nicki jabbed her finger into Erik’s solid chest, “Now you owe me...I want my pussy ate from the back.” 

“Hm,” Erik brings his face closer to Nicki’s, “Did your momma tell you that she got down on her knees, begging to suck my dick?”

“...what?” Nicki’s eyes glanced at his lips.

“She came banging on the door to my Trap House, pleading to suck my dick for some more crack...what you got to say now, shawty? I don’t hear you talkin’ back.”

Nicki swallows spit, before letting out a ragged breath, “She didn’t tell me all that...She’s been staying with my aunt to get better…”

“Next time, I think you need to get all the facts before you come up in my place getting buck with me,” Erik spoke with a raw voice so close to her face that his nose was touching her cheek, “And you know what happens when you get buck with me, Nicki...shut yo ass up when you talking all that shit...told yo ass I ain’t nothing like these other niggas, bitch, I don’t play that shit.” 

“I’m sorry, Erik-

“fuck your throat till I’m done...I don’t stop...you know I keep going.” 

“I won’t do it again-

“You will because daddy’s dick is yo favorite...you love sucking this big black dick...get my dick nice and wet...giving me all that good sloppy top like the freak hoe you are...telling me I’m yo favorite thug nigga while you suck on my nuts…”

“Fuck,” Nicki turned so she could face Erik fully. Her nose brushed against his broad one and the tickle of it shot straight to her phat clit. 

“Then you blowing up my phone all week like you ain’t got no damn sense,” Erik looks her up and down with eyes so ominous they made Nicki shiver, “Calling me ten times a fucking day...I hit you back when I’m ready, this my last time telling you, ma, hear me?”

Nicki nods her head before quickly saying, “Yes, Daddy E.” 

“I ain’t have this pussy in a week...she's still super soaker wet?” Erik’s hand found its way between Nicki’s thighs, stroking her pussy, “I can feel that clit poking...that phat ass clit...you only want me to eat it from the back because I suck it good from that angle.”

“Damn...I miss your fingers on my pussy,” Nicki spoke with a serene voice. 

“I miss that juicy mouth on my dick,” Erik roughly spreads Nicki’s thighs so he could see her pussy lips sitting nice and plump, “Big pussy on a tiny girl...I love that shit…”

“I need you,” Nicki says with her glossy cognac eyes filled with lust. 

“Not before I get my dick sucked you don’t,” Erik stands up, undoing his shorts, bringing them down to rest around his ankles. He purposely left his Armani briefs on so she could see his thick print jump. It pulsated and pulsated. His wide glans was peeking at her from the bottom of his briefs. Nicki has to pick her jaw up off of the floor. She had that huge black dick buried in her pussy so many times before and yet she still couldn’t believe he was packing that much thickness and length. 

“You need me? Suck this daddy dick,” He points to his crotch that he was blessed with. Nicki scoots over so that she’s seated perfectly in front of him before grabbing the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down so they could rest around his ankles with his shorts, “I need your lips to show my throbbing dick how much you appreciate every inch of me…” 

Nicki grabs Erik’s dick in her hand. She moves it up and down...up and down...then she sticks her tongue out to lick his slit. Nicki’s tongue wiggles slowly while her cognac eyes blinked up at Erik innocently. 

“Stop playing and put this dick in your mouth,” Erik says.

“This big dick right here?” Nicki uses her tongue to circle the tip of Erik’s dick. 

“Nicki...stop playing with me,” Erik’s fingers tangled around her thick hair and he yanked it hard enough to extend her neck so that she could look at him, “And you can drop that good girl act you know when you see this dick all of that goes straight out the fucking window.”

Erik was reminded of how much of a nasty bitch Nicki is. Nicki spits on Erik’s dick before taking him halfway into her mouth and sucking him with just the power of her jaw muscles. She started making those nasty, loud slurping sounds that Erik loves. Nicki grabs Erik’s balls to massage them before using her lips to slurp along the sides of his lengthy dick. 

“Fuckkkkkkkkk,” Nicki relished in the squelching sound of Erik’s spit covered dick in her hand while she jerked him slowly. She knew that he wanted her to swallow all of him but Nicki wanted him to make her do it. 

“This dick is thick and heavy, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? It likes being sucked too,” Erik takes his dick in his hand, “so why don’t you hop on that and stop playing, girl.” 

“Or what? What?” 

“I’ll just make you...open yo’ mouth.” 

“Make me like you said you would,” Nicki says with a sly grin. Erik takes his thumb to rub Nicki’s bottom lip before dragging his hand down past her chin to grasp her throat with enough pressure to remind her of who is in charge. 

“I need good head right now and I need you to focus...give me yo’ fucking throat.” 

Erik slapped his dick on Nicki’s lips and she opened up for him, sticking her tongue all the way out graciously. Erik’s dick slid right in easily and with both of his hands holding her head in place Erik moved Nicki’s head back and forth. He watched his dick disappear between her glossy pink lips until his hands moved away from her head and Nicki was sucking all of him on her own. 

“Looks like you don’t wanna stop...I don’t wanna let you stop...sucking the life outta me...suck all that dick...yeahhhh just like that...you’re into that I see why you called me ten times a day…” 

“Mhmmmmmm,” Nicki’s eyes never left Erik’s and the eye contact made her mouth just as wet as her pussy. Nicki drooled all over Erik’s dick and the spit covered her chest, staining her bandeau top. 

“Suck that dick bitch, I bet you wish this was a daily thing for you...no matter where we are...If you enjoy it like you say you do be a slut and suck this dick whenever I tell you to.” 

Erik’s words excited Nicki. She knew it was in the heat of the moment because her sloppy head was making his dick swell but the thought of waking up with Erik’s dick in her mouth was a world she wanted to live in. Looking up into his fine ass face reminded her of how much she really REALLY wanted Erik to make her his girl. He kept talking that nasty shit to her and it made her take her fingers covered in her spit to rub her clit. 

“Nah, don’t get distracted, I got too much dick to not be getting it sucked...Mhm, you see that dick getting fatter? that’s cuz daddy is about to bust...all that fucking nut? don’t waste my shit, Nicki, don’t be wasting my shit bitch! FUCK!” Erik grabs his dick to slap it on Nicki’s tongue. His cum spurted out in thick streams. Nicki wrapped her lips around Erik’s dick, “get all that nut the fuck out bitch.” 

Nicki finished emptying him before licking her lips clean. She sat back on the couch with her face gleaming with saliva. Nicki turned around, arching her back and started twerking in her little shorts. Erik’s hands reached down to play with her ass while she bounced it for him. His fingers then start to rub her pussy from the back. Nicki starts thrusting her hips back against Erik while whining for attention. 

“I know what you need, baby, you know nobody’s mouth is nastier than mine. Who sucks on that pussy the best?”

“Daddy E,” Nicki moaned. 

“Who gets all that nut out?” Erik pulls Nicki’s shorts down to reveal that she isn’t wearing any panties. 

“You do, Daddy,” Nicki hissed when her pussy finally became exposed to the cool air, “my pussy is so damn wet.” 

“I’m looking at this fat, creamy pussy now...all that dripping from your pussy...and that clit…” Erik takes his thumb to stroke Nicki’s phat clit, “ima make you cum all over my thick dick.” 

“Please,” Nicki reaches beneath her to hold her pussy lips open, “Daddy, please suck on my pussy...please…”

Erik got down on his knees and buried his face in Nicki’s pussy. His tongue lapped and cleaned up all her cream before sucking on her phat clit from behind. Erik spreads her cheeks so he could have more space to lick her asshole too. Nicki’s pussy was fitting in Erik’s mouth so good that it made him thrust his hips like he was fucking her. He just knew the tip of his dick was leaking pre-cum. He was eating that sloppy, juicy pussy. 

“Daddy, yes, clean this pussy up and make some more,” Nicki licks her lips, “Oh, daddy, fuck yeah, oh, daddy, yes, right there, I’m gonna cum, yes, fuckkkkk, daddy, oh my God, daddy keep sucking,” Nicki shouts, “FUCK IM CUMMING!!!” 

Erik kisses her clit before using his tongue to fuck her pussy and asshole, alternating back and forth. Nicki didn’t know what to do with herself. One minute, Erik’s tongue is in her pussy and the next minute it’s wiggling in her tight ass. 

“Oh, shit,” Nicki could feel the sensation to cum creeping over her body again, “oooooo daddy you always eat my pussy so good!!!”

Erik helped Nicki get through her orgasm with rough spanking to her ass. His dick was painfully hard and as much as he loved slurping on Nicki’s phat clit he needed to bury all ten inches of his big black dick inside of her. Grabbing his jeans, Erik pulls out a magnum, opening it with his teeth before taking the condom and rolling it over his dick. Erik stood up while bending his knees slightly since Nicki is much shorter than him.

“You know what time it is, ma, keep this ass up so I can fuck you good, give you exactly what you deserve.” 

Nicki held her arched position, pushing her hips higher so she could provide a good angle for Erik.

“Got this pretty pussy with all this fat ass for daddy to pound deep and hard…” Eriks hips retreated back , and forth as he found her entrance . His tip felt that warm slippery wet hole and he eased himself in, just enough to hear those sweet little gasps and pants from her. Nicki reached behind her to grasp Erik’s upper thigh. He always expected that because of his generous size. 

“Aight, ma, ima put the rest of this dick in. Bite the couch if you need to,” Erik spoke casually. Erik slammed into Nicki hard, resulting in a huge slap from his pelvis against her plump booty. When he did it again her head flew back in bliss. He gave her another stroke, much harder than before. Nicki’s entire body from her head down to her toes felt that pressure and it caused her head to slump forward against the couch. 

“Yeah, daddy got that ass now...this what you like? All this dick in you? Fix your arch, Nicki,” Nicki’s mouth drew wide open and she looked back at Erik. Erik invaded her tight wetness, reaching every spot that needed to be stroked. Hitting every itch that had been yearning to be touched. Erik fucked her hard and steady. It was the rhythm of his toned hips knocking into her that shocked Nicki every single time. His back muscles flexed when his arms reached forward to grab the back of the couch. Nicki felt like this was the only man that could control her body as if he practiced it. His thick pole hit a spongy spot of pleasure inside of her. It felt so damn fucking good that Nicki started throwing her hips back, fucking him. Nicki started moaning uncontrollably, so honest that her body practically did it for her each time. 

“Fuck this dick! Take this shit!” Erik says all the while fucking Nicki himself, “I see you keeping this dick nice and slippery for me…”

“Mmm, daddy, you got me shaking and tightening all over that dick,” Nicki says between heavy sobs. 

“I love when your pussy tells me I'm doing a good job...you got more for me?” Erik pushes himself all the way inside until his balls slapped her clit, “dropping this dick in that big pussy?”

“Fucck..... show me who’s daddy,” Nicki could feel Erik hitting the bottom of her pussy with the tip of his dick and he wasn’t slowing down. Erik brings one leg up to rest his foot on the couch before grabbing Nicki’s hips. He started really plowing her pussy; plowing it so damn good that Nicki started sounding like someone went at her throat with a cheese grater. Her ass was bouncing like a ball against him. Nicki wailed and Erik could feel the smooth ridges of her vaginal walls ripple along the broad shaft of his dick. 

“Shit, I feel it coming, baby!!!!!!” Nicki’s ass ricocheted off of Erik before she went stiff, her thighs caving in like she was crippled. Her creamy orgasm oozed from her pussy and dripped to his couch. It was beautiful watching Nicki’s pussy cum. He could only imagine the overwhelming sensation she must be experiencing to cum on a thick dick. 

“Wow, look at this juicy pussy,” Erik slows down before stopping completely, his dick slipping from her snug pussy and resting between her inner lips. The sound effects her wet pussy made when the tip of his dick stroked her labia caused Erik to bite down on his pouty bottom lip so hard it stung. His eyes glinted with desire when he saw how Nicki glazed his dick.

“Come clean up all this mess, girl,” The corners of his mouth turned up and then a stream of hisses followed. Nicki slurped all of her sticky cream from Erik’s dick. She showed him her cum covered tongue before licking her lips. Erik needed to bust a nut now, hard and urgent. Taking a seat on the couch, Erik forcefully slaps Nicki’s ass, soundlessly telling her that she needs to slam that pussy on his dick froggystyle. Nicki’s weak limbs shook out of control when she positioned herself over Erik’s fat ass dick. 

“What you waiting on? Ride that fucking dick,” Erik pointed to his dick, “you see how you got my shit standing up? You better get on this dick and make me bust.”

Nicki guides Erik’s dick back to her overworked entrance before she finally lowered herself over him. Erik’s hands automatically grabbed each ass cheek so that he could have something to hold onto when he fucked her himself. Nicki started working just the tip of his dick, a constant whimper coming from her mouth. 

“Where is the rest of that phat pussy? Ride the fuck outta me, Nicki...my nuts are so goddamn tight,” Erik tugged on his sack, “Lil ass bought to have me explode up in this bitch.” 

“Shitttttttttttt, whew!!!!!!” Nicki finally takes all of him. She sat still while Erik’s hands still cupped her ass cheeks. 

“Just like that, girl, keep going,” Erik started pumping his hips, “All I need you to do right now is make this big ass dick cum.” 

“Fuck,” Nicki squeezes Erik’s shoulders and then with whatever strength she has left, Nicki started bouncing her pussy up and down Erik’s dick. The sound effects of her pussy increased with the speed of her strokes. With no warning, Erik started force feeding Nicki his fat dick. It was a good thing he had a grip on her ass because she allowed all of her body weight to fall forward against him. 

“Gotta get up in it...DEEP...know what I’m saying?” He spoke nonchalantly like he wasn’t making Nicki cry above him. He didn’t expect her to answer him, not with all his dick in her stomach. 

“Damn, fuck, shit, Oooh,” Nicki’s body started shaking and then as if a pipe burst she began to cum all in Erik’s lap, “FUUUUCK! Okay, baby, okay!!! Shit!!” 

Erik wasn’t listening, his dick was trying to drill a new slippery hole in her pussy. Erik’s dick was all up in her to get to that perfect spot where he knows that every inch of his fat dick is stuffing her. He was afraid that the more he thrust against her cervix that the condom would break. Easing up a bit, Erik grabs Nicki’s hips and starts moving her up and down his dick instead. His head fell back to rest against the couch while his narrow eyes watched the blissful expression on her face. Nicki held onto Erik’s wrists and her bandeau top slid down to rest around her slender waist. 

“You’re about to make me leak all in this rubber...ahhh fuck, yeah, you like this dick baby...you love being daddy’s nasty little fucking slut...yeah, ahhhhh, fuck...get on this dick, bitch, sit on this fat-fucking-dick, ride that fucking dick...ride this fat dick until I fucking cum…” Erik’s dick became so robust and rock-hard that Nicki began to scream from how vast his dick was making her pussy, “Fuckkkk, Nicki, you finna make me bust, girl, shittttttttt,” Erik’s hips left the couch and his toes curled. He filled that magnum to the brim. Nicki’s pussy damn near pranced from his dick and she was on her knees, between his athletically built thighs, waiting for her reward. 

Nicki removed Erik’s condom, his cum overflowing his dick from his wide tip all the way down to the base. Nicki strokes her hair back before using only her tongue to clean him up. This was routine, Erik didn’t need to remind her what to do. His dick was only covered in her greedy saliva now. Nicki picks up the condom, tipping it over in her mouth and squeezing the remnants of his cum out like a tube of toothpaste. Erik lightly chuckles, he loved how cum hungry Nicki is. 

“You taste so good...I could drink you,” Nicki stands before walking away with a dramatic switch of her hips to toss the condom in the trash. Erik sits up, his elbows resting on his kneecaps. He used his right hand to shake out his dreads. He was going to need to disinfect his couch. He could feel his sweat between his muscular ass cheeks. Grabbing his glass whiskey 

tumbler, Erik takes a sip of his Hennessy to quench his thirst. Nicki smiles while tipping her head down slightly. She loved the way Erik looked after sex, sweaty and undomesticated. Nicki makes herself comfortable on Erik’s couch, her knees to her chest and thighs wide open. Erik drew his lower lip between his teeth and furrowed his brows at her. 

“What?” She asked with genuine confusion. 

“You know it’s time for you to go, right?” Erik stated in a straightforward tone of voice, “I only let you spend the night that one time because it was 3 AM and I was too damn faded to take yo’ ass home.” 

“You’re such a Goddamn asshole. I just want my pussy ate again and I’ll be on my way,” Nicki spreads her pussy lips to reveal her pink center, “Candy coated and ready to be licked...don’t you wanna?”

“You know I like that sweet little pussy but I got a busy day tomorrow, ma. As tempting as that phat clit is...I gotta pass,” Erik settles back against his couch lazily.

“Not even a little lick?” Nicki begged.

“Not even a tiny taste, girl, next time though,” Erik closed his eyes and began to yawn. Nicki was staring all in his grill at his gold canines. 

“Fine. I have an interview tomorrow for this CNA certificate program so I need to rest anyway,” Nicki grabs her little stretchy black shorts from the floor, “When should I call you for some more dick, daddy?”

“I’ll hit you up,” Erik helps Nicki by lifting her bandeau over her small, round breasts, “the next few days I got a shipment of supplies coming in and I’m gonna be really busy. Don’t worry, I gotchu.”

“We’ll see,” Nicki fluffs out her hair before standing from the couch, “Are you gonna escort me to the door?” Nicki says with attitude. 

“Stop tripping,” Erik kisses his teeth, standing at his full height, grabbing a short Nicki around her waist before giving her a chaste kiss, “Why all that attitude? You know that shit don’t even mean nothing.” 

“Whatever, I’m mad at you,” Nicki jabbed her pointer finger lightly against Erik’s right dimple. She allowed Erik to walk her to the door with his arm still wrapped around her petite waist. Finally at his door, Erik opens it, shielding his nude body so nobody can see him. Nicki turned towards him, flipping him off before making her way to the elevators. She made a sour face at him one final time before jabbing the down arrow button. 

“Fix your pretty face,” Erik gives her a final air kiss, “I’ll hit you soon. Keep that pussy wet.”

Nicki couldn’t help but to blush at the last minute before the elevator doors closed. A wide smile was plastered to her face the whole ride down and butterflies were in her stomach. She felt like a teenager all over again, only this time she was getting dick. The elevator dinged and Nicki was back in the lobby, she walked along the tile flooring, passing all the paintings that lined the walls and the calming and soothing ambience of the blue and brown interior design. Nicki was just about to push open the commercial double glass doors when a woman with short chocolate ringlets dressed in a fitted, strapless, black maxi dress and black Birkenstocks with a cream Christian Louboutin tote bag in her left hand almost smacked her in the face with the door. 

“My fault, girl,” She spoke with an apologetic tone, “I left my damn glasses in the car...excuse my blindness.”

Nicki gives her a polite smile followed by a light laugh. Her smile faded when she noticed the woman’s red-rimmed mink brown eyes are glossy, “It’s cool, sis, from blind girl to blind girl, I get it,” Nicki noticed the look of confusion on her face so she pointed to her left eye, “Contacts.”

“Ah,” She smiles pleasantly, the warmth in it causing Nicki to smirk, “My mind is all over the place...pretty mules by the way,” The pretty cinnamon skinned woman complimented while walking away. 

“Thank you! I was just about to say the same about that bag on your arm,” Nicki admired it enviously.

“Thanks,” She stroked it, “My fault about the door, girl, have a good rest of your night.”

“Ain’t no thang, and you do the same,” Nicki gives her one final polite farewell before she turns to leave the lobby. 

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