#WHAT IS SO INTERESTING ABOUT YOUR DIRTY ASS RAGS AND WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MAKE YOU INVINCIBLE i hate you

[pmpwbrrs]

couldnt find a template i like so i made my own . also rushed

[gingersnaaps]

"yes" is conditional

the whorification of y/n, courtesy of one kuroo tetsurou and his special... talents <3

wc: ~2.4k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): dubcon, expicit n*fw, brainwashing/conditioning, mindbreak, bimbofication, mental aphrodisiac, exhibitionism mentions, uh implied sexual slavery(there's a cage at the end??), corporate!setting, fem!reader with inner genitals,

a/n: written for @sugawara-sweetheart and her decadence collab!

i don't want minors interacting with my content

The movies always get it wrong.

Kuroo thinks it’s hilarious how far off the mark they can be, honestly. He’s seen countless renditions of what people think mind control is like, and it’s always so corny and contrived - it’s not like he forces anyone to do things they don’t actually want to. He just… makes suggestions.

Nobody actually knows where their own thoughts come from, do they? So it’s almost too easy to place a suggestion or two in the back of someone's mind and pass it off as their own idea.

Most of the time, people are all too happy to comply with these suggestions.

And Kuroo’s more or less content with the free drinks he receives, the frequent raises his boss dishes out, and the one-night stands he easily gets as a perk of his little power. He really does enjoy the gifts other people seem to drop into his lap and the temporary flings he always finds himself in.

But he’s bored.

He wants more. He’s had enough of the short-lived gratification every time he persuades another pretty girl to come home with him.

So when he sees you walk by his office window, with your head always ducked low and your modest outfits all prim and put-together, it’s out of a passing curiosity - just a whim - that he starts his experiment. He wants to know just how far he can go in suggesting ideas and replacing thoughts, just how deep he can reach, and you’re perfect. You’re an unassuming and quiet coworker, you don’t attract attention, and he can tell that you’re one of those good girls just from the way you flush and avert your gaze when he talks to you.

Besides, he’s always wondered what your ass would look like in tighter skirts. Or, alternatively, with no clothes on at all.

Kuroo decides to make a project out of you.

As the days pass, he makes sure to time his coffee breaks so they sync up perfectly with yours. He makes sure not to do anything too overt, though - he doesn’t make you give him your number right off the bat, or ask you out immediately, or even drop any compliments. He wants to play it a little more subtle this time.

You find that you can’t help but take note of him, partly due to his constant presence, but also because you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Suddenly, there’s an insistent urge in the back of your mind constantly telling you where to direct your gaze, a little voice that whispers out how good his collarbones look, or how his back muscles ripple out under his shirt when he stretches. Your eyes seem drawn to his - and every time you make eye contact, you start flushing furiously, a tingling warmth spreading down your spine and into your cunt.

When you pass by his office, all he has to do is flash a cheeky grin, wink, and just like that, your panties are fucking soaked. You don’t know why you’re no longer able to control yourself around him, but it must be natural, right? It’s normal to have a relationship with a coworker go from completely platonic to you fantasizing about him stuffing your cunt full, right?

If he’s going to be honest, Kuroo likes seeing how horny he can make you every time he’s close by. He likes the way your face heats up, the way that cute body of yours seems to tense up, the way you cross your legs a little bit tighter when he walks by.

It’s not hard to make up fantasies to put in your mind, either - Kuroo thinks about you nearly all the time, after all. So when he finds himself drifting off in his office, thinking of the way you’d moan and scream and mark up his back if he were to pound you into the mattress, or maybe of how your pretty face would look dripping with his cum as he grips your hair and fucks your face, he doesn’t mind sharing them with you. And the look on your face when he does - oh, baby, it’s so precious.

You must be barely more than a virgin with how absolutely ashamed you act.

And slowly, of course, your wardrobe begins to change. When you find yourself at the mall, you’re no longer looking for conservative sweaters and cardigans that disguise the shape of your body. Maybe you’ve just lost interest in that style, especially with the way you find yourself drawn to the more… vivacious section. Now, you find it empowering to sift through racks of the tightest skirts, of v-neck blouses that give away your cleavage whenever you lean over.

When you show up at work, legs clad in tight stockings and your breasts pushed tight up against your shirt, you feel almost proud when Kuroo sees the way you’re dressed. In fact, when you find your gaze drawn to his, looking into his dark pupils blown wide with arousal, you feel that intense, throbbing heat in your cunt flare up again.

You feel good. You feel happy. You dress this way because you want to.

And when he finally asks you out to dinner, it’s easy - almost second nature - for you to say yes. Why would you ever want to say no when you’ve been so fixated on him for the past few weeks, when your mind has been filled with the dirtiest, unspeakable thoughts, when you’re so undeniably attracted to him?

On that date, you can barely think straight.

You’re just so fucking turned on the entire time, aren’t you? You can’t stop thinking about the way his cock would feel dragging up against your tight, wet, heat, about how his fingers would feel methodically taking you apart, how the flat of his tongue would feel flicking up across your clit.

You don’t care about the food. You barely even notice how much the bill for the dinner comes to. All you can think about is him.

Kuroo finds it almost endearing how tightly you cling onto his side during the taxi ride to your place. He can feel how warm you are, your shallow breaths puffing in and out, the way you tremble when he brings a thumb up to caress your cheek.

His experiment was so fucking worth it. You’re putty in his hands, a little plaything he can mold and shape to his liking.

That night, you are very much to his liking.

You pull him out of the taxi, whispering into his ear how much you’d like to show him around, but he isn’t fooled. You’ve invited him up not because you want to give a tour of your living area, but because you need him, because you don’t really have a choice with the way he’s been conditioning you for the past few weeks.

Barely five minutes have passed before you drag him to your bedroom, stripping off every useless item of clothing off. “Please,” you whimper. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I want it so bad.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, and as he grasps your thighs with his large hands and spreads you until you’re open and dripping, he’s only too happy to oblige.

Sucking gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, he bites at your soft flesh, running his tongue up along your pulse point until you shiver. He reaches down, trailing his hand over your chest and tummy until he arrives at your clit, and rubs slow, feather-light circles that leave you squirming and shaking, bucking into thin air until he grabs your hips and holds them down firmly in place.

He knows you want more. He can tell by the way your puffy clit pulses, swollen and tender, and the way you mewl whenever his fingers brush against your entrance.

“More,” you whisper, eyes wide and pleading. “I need more. Please.”

His cock twitches at the ragged desperation in your voice, and he almost wants to draw it out for a bit longer. You make such a pretty picture - he wants to run his hands through your disheveled hair, all mussed up and soft, wants to hold your face, glowing with sweat and flushed pink, wants to sear how depraved you look into his mind forever.

But who is he to deny you when you’re begging so nicely?

Weeks of pent up frustration have left you so, so sensitive - after all, your short, stubby fingers can’t reach nearly as far as his can, and the angle he’s able to hit every time he curls his fingers in a come-hither there motion isn’t something you could ever replicate. It’s so easy to make you cum when you’re desperate, and he indulges you, making you cream around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and strokes at your walls.

And when he’s done prepping you, Kuroo finds that fucking into a needy cunt is so much better than just a willing one. Your pussy, slick and dripping wet, almost seems to suck his cock into your hole, and the lewd moan that falls from your lips as he bottoms out sends heat rushing to his core. He goes slow and careful at first - he wants you to enjoy this, after all - but your pussy feels so good, so warm and velvety, that he can’t help but speed up and ram his cock into you until you’re squealing like a bitch in heat. It might feel better without the condom he has on in the way, but that’s okay - he’ll save fucking you raw for another day.

After that night, you only grow more eager. You start doing things you never would’ve even imagined prior to his little interventions - you send him nudes from the work bathroom, slutty pictures that show off the curve of your ass and your tits covered in lace, candid shots of your lips wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them like you would his cock, even pictures of your cunt right after you’ve been touching yourself.

And just days after he’d fucked you for the first time, you find yourself at the pharmacist picking up birth control. You want to feel him cum inside you, to paint your pussy white and stuff you full until his seed is dripping out of you and dirtying the sheets.

Most of all, you want to please him. You want to make him feel good so that he’ll fuck you, offer you some sweet relief from the persistent ache in your cunt that gets particularly intense whenever he’s nearby.

You let him fuck you almost anywhere, anytime. He bends you over the sink in public bathrooms, running his fingers along your folds, or sprawls you out on his lap in his car, his cock deep in your cunt. You don't really mind if other people see the two of you - as long as he's gripping your hips tight, bruising your cervix until your skin blooms black and blue, sticky drool leaking from the corners of your mouth - he could be showing your naked cunt off in the middle of Times Square for all you care.

Kuroo can’t help but beam with pride at the way your demeanor has changed as of late. You used to blush whenever he would make eye contact with you, and now you’re begging him to get you off during rush hour on public transportation.

He likes this new version of you very much.

-

Months go by, and you find that it gets harder to focus at work. Early on, it was easy to ignore the heat curling in your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted to Kuroo, but now the artificial glare of the screen gives you a headache, and the numbers and letters on the spreadsheets all seem to meld and jumble together until you can’t tell which is which.

You don’t really care about your boss’s performance review anymore. The customers can scream all they like. The most pressing concern on your mind, the one that you just can’t stop thinking about, is the insatiable need for Kuroo to fuck you, to lift you up against the wall and bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Why would anything else matter?

To be completely honest, Kuroo hadn’t anticipated this particular side effect, but he supposes it makes sense that the more thoughts he replaces, the less original ones remain. There’s no longer as much of who you were before left, and - oh, Kuroo really shouldn’t be doing this to you, should he? But he finds that he doesn’t really care, doesn’t really mind, because you look so much better in your tight skirts, so much happier being the slut he’s slowly trained you to be.

He did like you for your personality - he really did. It was nice seeing you cute and quiet, but there’s just no room left for who you were anymore.

We’re all shaped and molded by our environment, aren’t we? The people we surround ourselves with, the places we grow up and live our lives in - it just happened that for you, your environment was Kuroo, and he did the work that society probably would have done anyway - albeit a bit differently, a bit more extreme.

Of course, he’s not delusional. He knows he’s responsible for the way you are now, so when you eventually get fired, he takes you in and lets you live with him. This way, you’re safe and warm and taken care of, and in exchange, he gets easy access to your cunt whenever he wants. There’s no more need for midnight calls or texts, because his pretty little fuckdoll is always waiting for him when he comes home.

He doesn’t have a spare room, but that’s not a problem. He lets you sleep on a couch at first, but the nice, comfy cage he orders for you comes in after just a few days. After all, he doesn’t want all his hard work to go to waste, and besides - you’re content with the few amenities your new accommodations offer: food, water, air, and cock.

Kuroo often finds himself admiring your pretty face, an expectant, needy expression plastered on your features and your eyes glazed over, stuck between the dirty metal bars like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. He can’t help but think that this is how you were always meant to be, that this is the perfect relationship that makes both of you happiest.

Considering the state you’re in, you really don’t know any better, do you?

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or just drop by my inbox to say hi! requests are open

[rocorambles]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Pairing: Kuroo x Bokuto x Daichi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Threesome, Foursome, Degradation, Humiliation, Sex Toys, Bondage, Pet Play, Double Penetration, Triple Penetration, Dirty Talk, Gangbang, Orgy

Dating Kuroo is an adventure to say the least and you’re finally understanding what the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’ truly means. You had always prided yourself on being open minded, always willing to try things at least once. But your boyfriend is really testing your limits, widening your horizons as he introduces you to toys you didn’t even know existed, coaxes you into positions and scenes you never thought you would enjoy as much as you do, drowns you in depths of pleasure you didn’t think was possible. Yet for all his roguish sly charm and wily ways, he’s careful to never overstep your boundaries, hazel eyes always carefully observing you, stopping and cradling you in strong arms even before you yourself have realized that you’re way over your head. 

Maybe it’s silly and naive of you, but you trust him with your life. Maybe that’s why despite how surreal and overwhelming the word ‘threesome’ sounds, despite the way your head spins at the thought of being sandwiched between two bodies when Kuroo alone is enough to make you feel like you’re losing your mind, you hesitantly nod your head when he gently asks you about it. 

You’re glad it’s Bokuto that Kuroo invites into your bedroom and you can’t help but feel like you’re being embraced by the sun itself as strong arms pin you down, a broad smile that warms your heart peering down at you, an energetic voice making you giggle as it hoots about how beautiful you are. And when both men finally bottom out inside of you, Bokuto capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his cock stretches your dripping pussy, Kuroo nuzzling and sucking your neck in a way that has you gasping and distracted from the twinge of discomfort from your puckered hole, you can’t help but feel that there’s something ironically sweet and comforting about the new position you’re in, nothing crass or dirty about it despite all the negative connotations of having more than two bodies in a bed.  

You can’t help but shake your head in amusement in between wanton moans as the two men you’re sandwiched between begin to playfully banter above your head as they continuously thrust into both your holes, squealing when they decide to use you to compete against each other, two sets of hands gripping your waist and hips tighter as they increase their pace, drool trickling from the side of your open mouth as your eyes roll back in your head, nails digging and clawing at the muscular shoulders and back of the professional athlete in front of you, head leaning back and resting against the toned chest of your boyfriend. 

It feels good, maybe too good being stretched fuller than you’ve ever been before, being manhandled like a rag doll, unable to do much except lay there as your two partners move you up and down as they see fit. But there’s something comforting and grounding about the two warm bodies surrounding you and you stare transfixed, pussy tightening and more arousal making a mess between your legs as Bokuto and Kuroo hungrily lock lips, owl and cat fighting for dominance as they spill their seed inside of you, filling you to the brim, smirking at the way you can’t stop gazing at both of them in awe, teasing you about the way you’re clamping down on their cocks from their little show like a perverted little voyeur. 

If you thought Kuroo and you were adventurous before, this is an entirely new realm of exploration and you deliriously wonder if you can ever go back, if you even want to go back to the way things were before as you’re brought to mind breaking pleasure over and over again, sometimes from two pairs of mouths, two cocks, two pairs of hands, a mix and match of any of the previous things, sometimes from toys when you’ve been especially naughty or when the men are feeling particularly sadistic as they tie you up and force you to watch as the two of them go at it, cruelly laughing at how pathetic you look, whining and begging to be included as your usually dominant boyfriend is moaning like a whore while Bokuto shoves him face down in the sheets and fucks him thoroughly, cumming from the sight of Kuroo teasingly slapping Bokuto’s ass as the owl-haired man whimpers and moans as he rides your boyfriend’s cock. 

But when you meet Daichi, you wonder if there’s something seriously wrong with you. 

You have an amazing, loving, and devoted boyfriend. You have a wonderful friend? Lover? Whatever Boktuo is to Kuroo and you these days. And yet you can’t help the stirring of desire that coils within you when you meet the officer your boyfriend has spoken so fondly of for the first time, unable to look away from the warm brown eyes and the charming smile, eyes constantly flickering down and gaping at thick thighs, only being dragged to reality by Kuroo calling your name, guilt eating away at you every time hazel eyes affectionately look at you. 

Were you that selfish? That desperate? One man...two men weren’t enough for you? 

This shouldn’t be your reaction to meeting Sawamura Daichi, your boyfriend’s ex-lover and friend with benefits. You should be friendly, but apathetic at best, maybe even jealous and cold at worst. But you definitely shouldn’t be attracted to the man sitting beside you and engaging you in polite conversation. You definitely shouldn’t be so quick to understand exactly why Kuroo had fallen into bed with the brunette. 

Unknown to you, feline eyes regard the scene in front of him in interest and a hint of satisfaction and surprise. Kuroo had been nervous about the two of you meeting, feeling unsure about even keeping up his friendship with the ex-Karasuno captain when he started dating you, never wanting you to ever have a reason to feel insecure or doubt his loyalty to you. But you had been so quick to reassure him, so understanding, so trusting when he had told you everything about his past relationship with Daichi, about how the two of them are still close friends. And he remembers to this day how you laughed in his face, pinching his lips together to silence him before flicking him on the forehead and telling him he could be friends with whoever he wants. 

“I trust you, Tetsurou. Plus, if you did cheat on me, it’s not me you’d have to worry about. Good luck dealing with an angry Bokuto.” 

He knows you had been genuine, but he had still expected some level of discomfort when you met Daichi. After all, he imagines meeting your significant other’s ex-lover is an uncomfortable situation to be in for even someone with the kindest of hearts. But he certainly hadn’t expected that familiar spark in your eyes when you shook Daichi’s hand and he definitely hadn’t expected to see that interest returned in brown eyes that trailed and lingered on your face, your body throughout the night.       

Kuroo doesn’t believe in soulmates, but he thinks that you might just be the closest thing to it. 

Daichi stiffens when a familiar lean figure corners him in a secluded hallway, a scowl already forming on his face as he prepares to combat Kuroo’s typical snarky comments. But he’s speechless, unable to form words from a suddenly dry throat. 

“She’s pretty isn’t she? I noticed how you couldn’t stop staring at her all night.”

An apology is already on the tip of the officer’s tongue, shame swirling deep in Daichi’s guts at being caught, for not being able to better control his wandering gaze. But he sputters at Kuroo’s next words. 

“She’s even prettier in bed. Bokuto can attest to that. Come join us and see for yourself.” 

Daichi’s always thought of himself as an upright citizen, a morally sound human being. But even when they were younger, Kuroo had always managed to make him question just how straight laced he actually is. And he’s quickly realizing that even now, even almost an entire decade later, Kuroo hasn’t lost any of his persuasive sway over him. 

There’s something incredibly strange about discussing having a sexual experience with your ex-lover’s new significant other, especially when it’s being done behind said significant other’s back and especially when it’s being brought up because you couldn’t stop staring at said significant other like a lecherous geezer. And Daichi is trying to shut down the idea before Kuroo can say anything else, trying to shove the taller male away to escape the stifling atmosphere. 

But Kuroo’s always managed to get his way and his claws are out, already digging too far in Daichi’s soft feathery flesh for the crow to truly fly away. 

“Your interest isn’t one-sided, Sawamura. Think about it.” 

And Daichi does think about it, brown eyes staring up at his ceiling as he lays in bed, remembering every word the two of you exchanged, recalling every detail of your face, cursing himself for how weak-willed he is as he picks up his phone from his nightstand, swiftly sending the message before he can second guess himself anymore. 

“I’m down.”  

It’s just another typical night for the three of you and you moan on all fours, Kuroo’s hand twisted in your hair, forcing you all the way down on his cock until your nose brushes against his lower abdomen, tears streaming from your eyes as Bokuto’s calloused hands tightly hold your hips as he continuously slams into you from behind, making the bell attached to your pretty pink collar chime in a lewd melody. But there’s a brief pause as the doorbell rings and you gasp for breath, drool dripping from your mouth when Kuroo releases his hold on you, peering curiously in the direction of the front entrance as the ringing continues before quickly pulling on a pair of discarded sweatpants and exiting the bedroom, checking the source of the interruption. 

The momentary distraction has you forgetting exactly what position you’re in, but you’re abruptly reminded that you’re not alone when strong hands haul you up until your back is pressed flush against a hard chest, one hand sliding towards your front, rolling one of your perky nipples between its fingers, the other hand gripping your waist and anchoring you as the cock inside of you resumes its relentless pace, gravity forcing the shaft even deeper inside of you as you have no choice but to completely bottom out with every bounce. 

The flames inside of you are beginning to grow and build into a raging inferno as you’re driven closer and closer to a release and you can’t think of anything else except the huge cock inside of you, the deep grunts of the man behind you. But you let out a panicked whimper, nails clawing at Bokuto to slow down, stop, eyes going wide in disbelief when Daichi enters the room, followed closely by your boyfriend. 

You feel so vulnerable as brown eyes gape at your tear and drool stained face, the rise and fall of your breasts, the way your lower half is lewdly connected and breached by the cock inside of it and you instinctively move your arms to cover yourself, only to whine when Bokuto’s hands firmly hold your arms to your side, admonishing you with a thrust of his hips. And Daichi thinks he might be drooling when he hears the instinctive moan you let out from the action.

It’s Kuroo who breaks the tense silence and your attention immediately snaps towards him when his comforting and familiar voice fills the room.

“I saw the way you two looked at each other that night you met.” 

There’s already a protest and denial ready to pour from your mouth, but you obediently stay silent at the sharp look hazel eyes pin you with. 

“I’m willing to let you two get to know each other better. But only if you want to, kitten.”

Your heart warms at the way his voice softens, hazel eyes peering into your soul, searching for any hesitation, fear, doubts, anything that would have him immediately ushering Daichi out. You’re still a bit apprehensive, nervous, but...You can’t deny the heat growing inside of you as brown eyes darken at the sight of you, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from the growing bulge between those deliciously muscular thighs. And Kuroo laughs. 

“Well, I’ll consider that a yes from you. I’d ask if you’re sure about this too, Sawamura, but considering this, I’m going to take that as a yes too.”

Daichi growls when Kuroo teasingly reaches down to palm the officer’s growing erection and your thighs clench at the sight of your boyfriend being forced into submission as Daichi’s hand grab him by the back of his unruly hair, eliciting a broken whine when the cat-like man is forced to submissively bare his neck as his head is forced back.

“Keep on running that mouth of yours and it’s you I’m going to be collaring and leashing tonight.” 

You’re not opposed to the idea and you almost have half a mind to goad Daichi into following through with his threat. But suddenly brown eyes are back on you and you gulp as Daichi grabs the leash in Kuroo’s hand before stalking slowly towards you, obediently staying still and preening with pride as he gently cups your face and softly tells you how beautiful and well behaved you are, mewling in contentment when he attaches the leash to your collar. 

Bokuto whines at being ignored, but golden eyes swoop onto your boyfriend who’s tugging his sweatpants back off and reaching for a bottle of lube as he winks at your athletic lover. And before you can even register what’s happening, Daichi and Bokuto are carefully lifting you up and now it’s your turn to pout at the empty feeling inside of you as Bokuto bounds towards the messy haired man who’s panting as he works a slick covered finger into his tight puckered hole.

But you’re not left to wallow for long when a sharp tug of your collar has you gasping and staring wide eyed at the man in front of you. 

“Present for me, beautiful.”

The combination of the praise and authoritarian tone to his voice has you diving back down on the bed and you lay your upper body on the soft surface, arching your back more than usual, wiggling your hips in an enticing manner as Daichi draws near. But you yelp as a heavy hand sharply smacks your ass.

“I said to present, not be a fucking tease.” 

You whimper, slightly unsure as you instantly still, so used to Bokuto and Kuroo always letting you get away with your cheekiness. But you sink into the warm touch as Daichi soothingly traces the curve of your spine, eager to please as his fingertips explore every inch of you, reaching beneath you to playfully tweak your nipples as he litters your back and neck with soft butterfly kisses, wrapping his body over yours as he grinds his hardening cock against your dripping hole. 

Patience has never been your strong suit and despite how hard you try to stay put and let Daichi explore and map your body, you can’t help the desperate whimper and insistent swivel of your ass as you try to match his rhythm, meet every one of his controlled and shallow thrusts in a wordless plea for more. And you’re swiftly punished with a harsh pinch and twist of your sensitive nubs, squealing at the jolt of pain as teeth bite down on your neck. 

“Fine. You want it that badly? I’ll give it to you. But don’t cry when it’s too much for you.” 

You loudly wail when you’re suddenly being slammed into, nails clawing at your bedsheets as you try to find purchase, teeth biting down on the pillow below your head to ground yourself even just a tiny bit. But even that’s taken away from you and you let out a high-pitched keen as Daichi pulls on your leash, forcing your head to lift up and arch, forcing your jaw to drop open in a silent perpetual gasp as you suck in as much air as you can with leather digging into your neck. 

“Let me hear how much you like it.” 

It should be embarrassing, humiliating, falling apart so easily underneath a man who’s pretty much a stranger to you, who’s only had his hands on you for minutes, but it’s hard to feel shame when all you can register is the way he deliciously spreads you open, ruthlessly plundering you in a way that makes you feel owned, that makes your breasts bounce with every thrust, the tightness around your throat just more proof of how far you’ve let yourself fall. And Daichi smirks at the way your broken cries echo throughout the room, a wanton blabbering chant of “yes, like it so much, thank you” slipping past your lips 

“God, you’re an even bigger slut than your boyfriend and that’s saying something.” 

The reminder that it’s not just the two of you in the room has you blearily turning to look in the direction of your other two lovers and you moan at the sight of a white sticky trail leaking out of Kuroo’s ass, Bokuto’s large hand wrapped around both their cocks as he slowly strokes them back to life despite both of them having already cum, cocks already beginning to harden once more at the debauched image you make. 

Daichi snorts at how hungry gold eyes ravenously stare at both of you. 

“I see that you’re still as insatiable as ever, Bokuto. Our pretty girl does have two other holes you can use.” 

That’s all the encouragement the owl-like man needs and you let yourself be maneuvered like a doll, moaning as you slip back down on Daichi’s cock, sloppily kissing the cop who’s now laying underneath you, finding comfort in the intimate connection as Bokuto slowly works your puckered hole open, focusing on Daichi’s hand gently drawing soothing designs on your back and your sides as one finger becomes two becomes three before the head of the athlete’s cock nudges at your fluttering entrance. 

Daichi deepens your kiss, entangling his tongue with yours as he swallows your cry of discomfort as Bokuto slowly pushes, pushes, and pushes. It’s so much and you’re panting, heart racing when he finally bottoms out, mind going blank from the overwhelming fullness of being double stuffed, but you let the men lull you into a sense of security as Bokuto coos praises into your ears, softly kissing your nape and your back, as Daichi continues tasting your mouth, your lips, neither of them moving despite how tempting your tightness and heat are, letting you adjust. 

But they share an amused smile when you finally shake their gentle touches off, snapping a bratty demand to get on with it at both of them, smirking when both men hiss when you teasingly tighten around both of them. 

They’re quick to wipe that smug expression off your face and it’s their turn to smirk at you as you begin babbling incoherently, delirious pleasure making it hard for you to do anything except lay there as both your holes are ravaged. And Daichi stares in awe and pride at how destroyed you look, eyes rolling back and jaw hanging open as you slump down on top of him, only Bokuto’s strong arms keeping your hips lifted as both men continue thrusting in and out of you. 

“Oya, oya? You’re so noisy, kitten. That’s very rude to our neighbors. Let me help you quiet down.” 

Kuroo grabs the forgotten leash from the bed, hauling your head up as he wraps the material in his hand until your eye level with his cock, his other hand twisting in your hair and keeping you still as he rubs his pre-cum and length all over your face, mockingly laughing as your tongue instinctively lolls out to taste the delicious treat. 

“Look at you. You really are just a silly pet, aren’t you? Open wide. I’ll give you your treat.” 

Daichi and Bokuto groan at the sight of your drooling mouth being stretched and shoved down Kuroo’s cock, not even a hint of resistance as your boyfriend pushes you down further and further until your nose presses against his groin, barely letting you adjust before he sharply snaps his hips and laughs at how the three of you let out a chorus of moans from the way your ass and pussy tighten from having your mouth fucked. 

“We’re going to use and fuck every one of your holes, kitten. And we’re not stopping until every hole is stuffed full of cum and we’re all satisfied. Understand?”

You don’t even get to garble a muffled answer around the cock inside your mouth before all three men are raring back to action and you really do feel like nothing but holes for cocks as all your holes are plundered, nothing controlled or in sync about any of their rhythms as they use you as a means to chase their own highs. But there’s something intoxicating about relinquishing all control, being used however they deem fit, focusing on the heady sensations of being completely full, and you can feel a familiar coil twisting and turning inside of you, can feel a telltale trembling in your thighs as the feeling grows and grows. 

None of this goes unnoticed by hazel eyes staring down at you and Kuroo smiles as he reaches down to tweak one of your nipples, patronizingly petting your head as you convulse and shatter to pieces before resuming the snapping of his hips. Your twitching walls are all Daichi needs to join you in post-coital bliss and he snaps up one last time, emptying his balls inside of you before lazily sinking back down onto the rumpled sheets, holding your overstimulated writhing body in place as Bokuto and Kuroo continue their joint assault. 

But it’s game over when the brunette slips a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing and playing with your clit in a way that has you seeing stars and wantonly shaking your hips and moaning as pleasure once again mixes in with the overwhelming sensations and Bokuto’s hands dig into your skin as he bottoms out inside of you, biting down on your shoulder as he fills you with thick white spurts, adding to the mess between your legs when he pulls out. 

And now it’s just Kuroo and you and hazel eyes adoringly watch as you practically hump Daichi’s hand as his fingers coax another orgasm from you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your moans vibrate against his cock when Bokuto’s hands find their way back to your breasts, rolling the perky sensitive buds between calloused fingertips once again. But he grits his teeth and waits as his rhythm becomes uneven, as his thrusts become more shallow, hazel eyes watching and waiting, watching and waiting, watching and- 

He immediately pulls out of your mouth with a lewd pop as you’re forced to another peak, mouth opening wide in a silent scream, body twitching and spasming violently. And that’s all he needs to join you over the edge, moaning as he paints your face white, basking in the glow of his release as he takes in your glorious ruined state, something oddly warm and endearing swirling inside of him at the way Daichi and Bokuto are quick to cradle your exhausted body in their arms and lather you with praise and affection as he goes to draw a bath for you.  

It’s crowded in your bed that night, the queen sized bed not meant to hold four full grown adults, and yet, as the four of you drift off into a peaceful exhausted slumber, bodies squished against each other, limbs sprawled all over the place, the natural joint body heat borderline suffocating, you can’t help but think that it somehow feels just right.                  

[lilacte]

#PegHawks2020

Pairings: Hawks x Reader

Summary: You peg Hawks. That's it. That's the plot.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!hawks, pegging, sex toys, anal fingering, dirty talk, light bondage(?), edging, overstimulation, plot i guess (if you squint)

A/N: My first submission for @bnhabookclub's Bingo Event! Thank you to @honeytama and @dragonhrte for beta-reading my fic! Also huge thanks to my wife @royal-after-dark for helping me so much with my fic.

Taglist: @royal-after-dark @mrs-takami-keigo @keigod @shoutogepi @gr0vndz3ro @honeytama​

The first time Hawks met you, his heart hammered so loudly that it felt like it was going to burst in his chest. Your eyes gazed at him with such cold sharpness that he can't help but swallow the lump forming in his throat. You were (Y/N)(L/N), a Pro-Hero just like him. You regarded him with cold disposition and barely spared him a glance, not even a word spoken to him. 

Maybe that's what sparked his interest in you. 

The next time he saw you was at a high-end bar. You were in the V.I.P section, surrounded by what he assumed were your friends, sitting on the plush sofa while sipping on your drink as your eyes dragged around the dancefloor in boredom. And then your eyes met his, and Hawks felt his blood rushing to his groin when you eyed him up and down erotically. A few hours later, Hawks was pinned harshly against the wall as both of you reached your hotel room. Your lips against his neck, causing frenzy to seize his veins, your bright red lipstick staining his skin. The next day Hawks woke up in your hotel room without you beside him anymore.

You left your phone number on the nightstand, though.

Three months later, you started dating. It's been six months into the relationship when you brought up the idea of pegging. Hawks humored the idea, confident that he could do it.

He really, really wants to impress you.

That was why he was in his apartment right now, on all fours and naked, facing the mirror as you prod two lubed fingers in his hole. At first, it stung a bit, still unsure about the odd sensation he was feeling. Your fingers slide in, your movements slow at first to help him relax. 

"Do you feel alright, Hawks?" You ask, tone soft yet reserved.

"I can barely feel anything, babe. This is nothing I can't handle. Ah-"

Hawks jolts when he feels you push your fingers deep inside of him, hitting the right spot. A traitorous moan escapes his lips as your fingers teased his prostate.

"Oh? Are you sure? It sounded like you enjoyed that one, Hawks." Glancing at the mirror in front of him, Hawks meets your heated gaze, cheeks coloring with embarrassment as your lips twist in a smug grin.

"I-Is that the best you can do, babe?" Hawks exhales, voice starting to tremble as your fingers move faster inside of him. 

"You're taking my fingers so well, baby bird. Such a dirty little slut for me, hmm?" you taunt as you add in a third lubed finger in his hole, and Hawks involuntarily clenches around your fingers as you continue to pump inside of him, teasing his insides.

"So tight just for me. I can't wait to fuck you, Hawks." You murmur. Your free hand travels to the underside of his dick, knuckles ghosting his skin, and he melts at the feeling. His cock becomes uncomfortably hard between his thighs, and he whines, aching for you to give it attention.

"Ngh. Fuck-" Hawks shudders, arms gripping the carpet as your fingers spread inside of him, scissoring up and down, stretching him so much and sending jolts of tension throughout his body. 

"Do you think you're ready for my cock, pretty bird?" 

Hawks nods eagerly, and you gently withdraw your fingers from his hole, satisfied, and Hawks whines at the loss of your fingers. 

Hawks sits down properly on his knees, and you undress in front of him, unbuttoning your white blouse. Hawks admires your naked body, and you give him a small smirk as you go behind him.

"I'll tie you up now. Tell me if it hurts." You whisper in his ear, so softly that it sends tremors of pleasure tickling down his spine.

"That's easy stuff. I can handle it." 

Grabbing both his wrists, you place them behind him, tying them firmly with your white blouse. You stand up, putting the harness around your hips, and Hawks stares at your bright red, huge cock that hangs in front of it. 

Smiling sweetly at him, you say, "Come on, now. This cock isn't going to suck itself." 

He snickers, golden eyes staring back at you arrogantly.  

"Don't make me laugh, chickadee. This will be a piece of cake." 

Hawks tongue glides over your cock, from base to tip. He stares up into your eyes as he finally wraps his lips around your dick, cheeks hollowing as he sinks to take in your length, saliva pooling against his tongue and coating it. His head bobs up and down your cock, taking his time with it.

"Look at you, such a whore for mommy's cock, getting it nice and ready for that tight little hole of yours." You grab onto his blond strands harshly, and with a small smirk, you force him down deeper until he's gagging on your cock. 

"Keep your eyes on me, my pretty bird." His golden eyes stare up to you, and you can't help but purr in delight as unshed tears start to form in his eyes. His moans are muffled as you continue to guide him by the hair, soft choking sounds like music to your ears. 

"You look so good on your knees like that." You murmur, bucking your hips faster. Hawks can barely breathe, throat constricted around your dick, cheeks reddening as he chokes on your strap-on. With his hands tied behind him, he can't do anything but let you have your way with him. Strings of saliva spill from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down to his chest. 

After a few more minutes, you stop your thrusts, pulling him away from your cock, and Hawks can finally breathe, jaw burning as he sucks in as much air as possible. Your fingers cup his cheeks, tracing his wet lips with your thumb, admiring his reddened state.

"What an undignified look you have." You mock.

"Stand up and lay on the bed on your stomach." Hawks does what you tell him to eagerly, his face buried into the pillow. You kneel behind him, hands finding their way to his hips, and position him with his ass up in the air, adding a pillow to support his body. You position the tip of your large red dildo onto his already drenched hole and add more lube before you slowly slide your silicone cock into him.

"F-Fuck, that feels good." Hawks hisses, tugging at his restraints as you stretch his walls. 

You set a slow, steady pace as you fill him up.

"Look at you, pretty bird. Taking it so well already." You hum appreciatively, fingers digging deep into his skin as your hips rock against him, and his vermillion wings flutter excitedly at the comment.

Hawks bites into the pillow as your dick slides in and out of him, stirring his gummy walls and friction building up inside of him. You hover above Hawks, hand settling on either side of his head. His back arches as your cock prods at his prostate.

"You like me fucking you like this, Hawks? Tell mommy how much you like it." You inch close to him, your hot breath fanning his ear.

"Ngh! V-Very much. Give me more, mommy~" Hawks desperately pushes back against your cock, face flushed so red in arousal. You adjust your position, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, driving Hawks insanely.

"Fuck! P-Please, m-mommy. I'm going to come!" Anticipation builds in his lower belly, euphoria surging red hot in his veins—a few more thrusts into him, and his orgasm tears through him. Hawks pants harshly, face twisting with absolute bliss. 

You smack his ass harshly and Hawks yelps in response, lifting his head up to eye you through the mirror.

"W-what?" Hawks asks, eyes still hazy as his orgasm settles in his body. You let out a displeased sigh, running a hand through your hair as you eye Hawks' reflection.

"I never said you could come, Hawks," Your lips curl up in a wicked grin, eyes glinting maliciously before your hands grab onto his wings.

"Now, you need to be punished." Using his wings as support, you rock your hips into him, this time, at a much rougher pace.

You don't let Hawks cum.

Every time Hawks was close, you always pulled out, not giving him the sweet release he desperately wanted. By now, he was just a jumbled mess. The words spilling out of his mouth are a disarray of incoherencies. His choked sobs were like aphrodisiac to your ears and that you can't help but want to torture him more.

"Hnn… ah! Too… hng! Ah!! Deep, hnn. Ah!" Hawks gasps at the overwhelming sensation, ragged breaths leaving his lips as you slam into him mercilessly. His body feels achingly sore, yet the pleasure is so overwhelmingly powerful that he can't help but beg for more.

"You were all talk, baby. Now you can't even say a word. Who knew you liked to be fucked like this? What would others think about you when they found out, hmm?" You snicker condescendingly.

It was all too much. It was so good it hurt.

"Too much! I want to cum, mommy! Please let me cum! I'll be your good little fuck hole from now on!" Hawks cries out, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva dribbling down his chin. His hands pull at the makeshift restraints, itching to grab onto something as his body jerks from your relentless thrusts.

"Beg for it like the whore you are then." You purr, burying yourself into him as deep as you can, your pace unrelenting. Hawks jaw slacks open, breathless moans escaping his mouth, tongue lolling out of his face, mind going haywire as you hit the right spots inside him. His neglected cock aches between his legs, loads of his pre-cum leaking out. With all of his might, Hawks breaks free from the makeshift handcuffs, the fabric ripping away, his hands immediately flying in front of him to grasp the sheets.

Your arms leave their hold on his wings, one hand snaking around his waist and the other wrapping around the base of his cock. His cock twitches in your grasp, and he gasps, eyes rolling the back of his head as you pump him up and down, circling his tip, and fucking him from behind.

Everything was so overwhelmingly good and Hawks can barely breathe.

"Let me hear your scream, my pretty bird." 

"Ah, ngh! So… good! I'm a whore for your cock! Mommy's cock is so good! Mommy!" Hawks cries out breathlessly, his mind is blank from the numbing pleasure, all rational thoughts leaving his head.

You let out a chuckle, deciding that you've tortured Hawks long enough. Your hips rut into him at a faster pace, your hand wrapped around his shaft, doing the same.

"Come for me then, pretty bird." 

A pleased guttural moan escapes Hawks' lips as he finally comes, body trembling as rivulets of his seed drips down his cock and in your hands and on the bedsheets. Hawks lifts his head, meeting your heated stare through the mirror, and he gives you a dazed grin. Face so flushed with the trails of tears running down his face and viscous strings of saliva running down his chin.

His body trembles from his orgasm, wings twitching with delight, and before long, his body goes limp in your arms. 

"Hawks?" you question, shaking him slightly in your arms. When he doesn't move, you release your hold on Hawks, setting him down onto the mattress face first. You grip onto his hips softly as you pull your cock out from his used hole. You remove the harness, placing it down on the floor. You leave the room and come back moments later with a damp cloth and new clothes. You let out a sigh as you survey Hawks' worn-out features. 

"I think I was too rough on you. Sorry." You whisper as you clean him up.

Before you leave Hawks' apartment, you give him a chaste kiss on the cheeks and cover his body with a blanket.

.

The next day Hawks arrived at a Hero meeting, limping so badly and so very achingly sore. When he entered the room, everyone saw how the winged-hero staggered, intrigued at what happened to him.

"What… happened to you, Hawks?" Endeavor asks, tone cold with a hint of curiosity.

"Had a... nasty fight… with a villain." Hawks lamely replies to which Endeavour simply nods, believing it before changing the subject to the meeting. Hawks looks around the room and spots you talking to Miruko.

Feeling his eyes linger on you, you turn to look at him, a sly smirk graces your lips as you eyed him up and down before flashing him a wink.

Hawks legs gave in at that moment.

[bubblesuga]

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: Yoongi is a pain in your ass, but sometimes that's okay. What's a cafe job without a little drama?

genre: college!au tags: smut, fluff, mutual masturbation, cream pie, dirty talk W/C: 4,740 a/n: i have a weak spot for blond yoongi

You seethe silently while you stare at the schedule on the pin board in the back room. You begged your boss, damn near pleaded on your knees in front of her not to schedule you with him.

Its hard enough to close with only two people but fuck, if it isn't impossible when you're with Min Yoongi.

Don't get it wrong, Yoongi has a knack for customer service and he's quite good at making coffee but for some reason-- when the two of you were completely alone-- he became unbearably annoying.

It's like the moment the open sign turns off, he forgets how to work. While you're in the back cleaning dishes, sweeping the kitchen, counting cash drawers, taking out the garbage and everything else involved with closing, Yoongi turns on his speaker and plays whatever song he's been working on recently.

Okay, sure. This job isn't the most important thing on the planet. You both are just trying to get a little extra cash while you push through college, but you'll be damned if you get paid the same while you do all the work.

"Kati!" you yell from the back, your arms crossed and your nails digging into each of your biceps. You hear footsteps behind you, causing you to turn around expecting to see Kati.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi leans in the doorway with a smirk on his face, "Awe, we're closing together again!"

"Awe we're closing toget-" you begin to mock but end up giving up and allowing your frustration to take over, "shut up, Yoongi."

"Don't seem so glum, sugar plum. I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you." His words were too sweet to be true, they were laced with his famous sarcasm which only made you want to yell at him more.

Before you have the chance to counteract his sarcasm, he taps your back lightly before turning around and walking back out.

If there was one thing you did enjoy about him, it was the view of him when he walked away.

As the hours pass, eventually you and Yoongi are the last ones there. When Seokjin said goodbye, you silently pleaded that he would stay for just a little while longer. He gave you a slight apologetic look, glancing at Yoongi before shaking his head and walking out.

A groan leaves your lips.

It's only 9:30, you still have half an hour until the shop closes and there's way too many pastries left over.

Yoongi stands behind you, silently wiping down the coffee machines and humming along to whatever song was playing over the loud speakers.

Leaning back against the counter, you cross your arms and watch Yoongi for a moment. In a dark denim apron and slim black shirt, it feels as though the uniform was made for Yoongi. You can tell he's been working out lately, his muscles are more defined beneath the fabric of his shirt. It's killing you that despite being as annoying as he is, he's still immensely attractive and he knows it.

The snapback rests backwards on his head, blond hair poking out subtly. He turns, meeting your eyes for a moment which causes you to turn away quickly. It's quiet for a while again.

"I don't think anyone is going to come in," Yoongi breaks the silence, "I doubt Kati would mind if we closed early."

"I think she would. She said she gets a rush in the last 15 minutes so we should be prepared for that."

"We're not going to get a rush, we're a coffee shop and it's almost 10pm on a Monday."

"I'm not disobeying Kati just so you can play your shitty music and do nothing while I close."

"Shitty," he scoffs, "my music is hardly shitty, and I do help close. Who do you think cleans the front?"

"Wiping down espresso machines isn't the hardest part of closing." Maybe you're being a bit too harsh. Maybe you're trying to cover up the fact that he caught you staring at him earlier.

Yoongi sets the yellow rag down on the counter, turning to you fully, "I also sweep and mop up here. It's kinda hard to do anything else when your coworker does everything else. Ya ever think of delegating, huh?"

You feel your eye twitch. Just as you're about to respond, the bell above the door rings and you instantly wipe away your anger and throw your best customer service face on.

"Hi, good evening! What can I get for you today?"

As you help the customer, Yoongi walks to the back.

You make her coffee, heat her Panini, and speak with her for a moment about the aromatics of the freshly ground coffee beans that you had become used to. You didn't have the heart to tell her that you didn't smell it anymore, so you talked about how that was your favorite part about working in a cafe.

When she leaves, you realize it's finally time to close.

Switching off the open sign, you open the cash drawers and begin counting. Anything extra goes into the safe, and it seems as though everything was in place tonight.

In the back, you can hear Yoongi moving around and you don't question what he's doing.

Cleaning, sweeping, and mopping... Eventually you finish the front and move to the back but you stop suddenly.

Yoongi isn't playing his music.

Raising an eyebrow, you push open the door to the back and see that the kitchen is completely spotless.

Yoongi puts the last of the dirty dishes away and turns to you, "Don't worry, princess. I did it just the way you like it."

"T- thank-" you stutter but you're not able to finish your sentence before Yoongi pushes past you and walks out the door. The bell rings and you realize that he's left. The two of you managed to close in under 20 minutes.

You can't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over you. You definitely we're being a bit too harsh, and it seems to have affected Yoongi more than you thought it would.

Sighing, you push a hand through your hair and walk out the door.

Your drive home is silent. You're not one to overthink, especially when it comes to Yoongi, but you feel the need to apologize.

After your nightly routine, you plop into bed and glance at your phone. It doesn't take much to make you open your contact list.

(Y/N) sent 10:55

hey. just wanted to apologize for calling your music shitty. for the record, it's not. you're pretty good.

Your phone dings quickly.

Yoongi received 10:56

no need to be sorry, i know i'm good.

You don't respond, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto the night stand.

~*~*~

Closing the next day was much more simple than before. Yoongi did the back again, but this time you could hear his music playing again.

The beats are much more incredible than you'd ever admit to him in person. His voice speaks melodically to the music, drowning out your thoughts. You find yourself tapping your foot to the beat as you finish cleaning up the front.

The song finishes and there's a sudden change of pace.

Instead of a strong bass line and incredible drum work, a piano plays through.

Your interest is piqued, your legs carrying you to the back where Yoongi stands. He doesn't notice you, allowing the song to continue to play.

"This is gorgeous." you murmur, and a switch flips in Yoongi.

His hands, though soaked with water and soap, reaches up and turns off the speaker. He turns to you, panicked, "N- no one is supposed to hear that one. I didn't realize it was so loud."

"So you're telling me you just...listen to your own music?"

"Well, no," for the first time, you see a blush creep across Yoongi's face, "I play certain songs for you, and there's certain songs that are just for me."

"You play songs for me?" Any resentment you had towards the man dissipated in an instant. Instead, butterflies swarmed in your tummy. Butterflies for him.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I don't play them for me. I want you to see how good I am."

"Humble," you hum, giggling slightly. Yoongi seems taken aback by the sound but doesn't get a chance to dwell as you continue to speak, "why can't I listen to this song?"

Yoongi sighs, "It's embarrassing."

"Let me listen," you begin to walk towards the speaker but Yoongi puts his hands on your shoulders to hold you back, "come on, Yoongi."

Yoongi doesn't give, but you manage to slip passed his hands and fall against his chest. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and waddling you backwards. In a last ditch effort, you attempt to reach passed him but his grip on you is surprisingly strong.

"No, no, Princess. That song is for me and me only."

The nickname has a stronger affect on you than usual.

"But..." you stick your bottom lip out in a fake pout, "I wanna hear the softer side of Min Yoongi."

Yoongi's eyes dart to your lips, licking his own. You're suddenly aware of just how close Yoongi is keeping you, his cologne filling your nose. He's cute from this angle, his nose is rounded and is tinged with red at the tip. His eyes, though dark, are brighter than usual. He smiles softly, a gentle giggle falling from his lips.

"I can't tell you how many times I've wanted you this close to me." Your heart melts at his words, and you look down to the way your chests are pressed against each other.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you question.

He smiles, "I did, you just didn't listen since you were so preoccupied with your little closing routine."

"My little closing routine makes the opener's life so much easier." you defend, trying to distract yourself from the way his hands sit at the base of your spine, playing gently with the hem of your shirt.

"I'm sure the opener is very concerned with the fact that you make sure you set the forks before the spoons and the knives right after." Yoongi whispers, his tone joking but his eyes glazing over. Even in the horrendous white lighting of the kitchen, he looks beautiful.

"Bite me, Yoongi."

Yoongi bares his teeth and scrunches his nose, "If you insist."

Without wasting a second, Yoongi's mouth latches onto your lips. You gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi's grip tightens and holds you closer.

To say your stomach exploded into butterflies would be an understatement. Your entire body lit up like a Christmas tree, heat radiating from your skin because Yoongi was everywhere. His hands were large, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt and resting on your lower back. He didn't stray any higher or lower, simply planting himself in one spot while his lips continued their attack on yours.

He smiles against your lips, taking them away only to begin his reign over your jaw line and down your neck. Then, he nips.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the fourth, his teeth are biting at your collarbones, but his hands have not moved from your back. You mewl above him, desperately clinging to his arms. Damn your neck for being so sensitive.

"Yoongi," you breathe, "touch me, Yoongi."

"I am touching you." He murmurs stubbornly against your skin.

You whine, "Your hands, Yoongi."

"Hmm," he hums, chuckling, "I like when you say my name."

Suddenly his hands drop down to your ass, kneading it through the thin fabric of your work leggings. He pulls himself back up to your face, planting his lips against yours again as you moan into his mouth.

Yoongi slips his hands between the two of you, hooking his fingers beneath the band of both your leggings and your panties.

"Are we really about to fuck in the kitchen?" You ask, your chest heaving.

Yoongi leans back, taking a second to assess the situation. "You're right, my apartment?"

"No, your car."

"Dirty girl," he grins, taking his keys out of his pocket, "I'll turn off all the lights. Go get ready for me."

You nod, grabbing his keys and walking out of the door. As you're about to reach the front door, it already swings open and Kati waltzes in completely unexpectedly.

Panicked, your eyes go wide and you halt just before leaving from behind the counter. Kati glances up from her phone, "Ah, perfect, is Yoongi still here?"

Swallowing, you nod carefully.

"Great, I need to talk to you both," she turns towards the kitchen, "Yoongi! Get your ass up here!"

Closing your eyes, you pray to god that he's composed himself a little more than you have. Sure enough, he walks from the kitchen and seems just as nonchalant as ever, "Yes, boss?"

"So, I need you two to close for the next couple weeks together. Jackson quit and Woojin can't work nights."

"...and?" Yoongi questions.

She seems slightly taken aback, "Well, I need to make sure you two won't kill each other."

Both you and Yoongi hold back laughter.

Resting his arm softly on your shoulder, Yoongi's skin is still hot against yours, "No promises, boss."

"I'm serious," she scolds, "It's only a couple weeks then I'll never schedule you two alone again."

"Yes ma'am." you put your hand up in a salute.

Working alone with Yoongi for 2 weeks? What could possibly go wrong?

Kati smiles, "Alright then. I'm gonna grab the money from the safe then I'll let you two get back to closing."

You two silently watch Kati unlock the safe beneath the register, taking out the deposits from today. Yoongi's arm hasn't left your shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly against your collarbone. When you turn over to him, his face showing no emotion but his hands doing more to you than you could ever imagine.

Kati turns back, "Okay, be here at 2 tomorrow. Thank you!"

As she walks out, Yoongi's arm falls from your neck.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow as he wipes his brow.

"I was shitting bricks." Yoongi says, causing you to tilt your head. "Why?"

"You have hickeys all over your neck."

Your eyes widen, your hand flying to your neck, "Yoongi! Do you know how fucking bad that could have been?"

"I know, that's why I covered your neck." He explains, gesturing with just as wild eyes.

"No, no-" you shake your head, "We almost fucked in the kitchen, Yoongi. That's not okay."

"But we were gonna go to my car!" Yoongi's shoulders slump and his mouth is agape in confusion.

"Imagine if she had walked in when your tongue was down my throat."

"Well I would have asked her to join."

"Yoongi!"

"I'm kidding, you know I only have eyes for you babe." He steps closer, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips once again. You pull away, shaking your head.

Despite the fact that it was taking everything in you not to kiss him again, not to giggle at his lighthearted jokes and just follow him to his car, you knew that you had to practice self-discipline otherwise no work would ever get done with Yoongi.

"Are you upset?" Yoongi seems hurt.

"No," you sigh, "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything here."

Yoongi straightens his back, clearing his throat and adjusting his clothes, "Right. Wouldn't want anyone's coffee getting out late because we're in the back fucking."

"Right." you whisper.

Yoongi smiles softly, "Doesn't mean I won't imagine it."

"Such a gentleman," you roll your eyes, bending down to grab your bag, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~*~

"Can I get an Dirty Chai with oatmilk, Yoongi?"

It's the first time you had one of those late night rushes that Kati was talking about. There's a line out the door, drunk college students desperate for some sort of carbs to soak up the alcohol. Yoongi is running back and forth from the panini press to the espresso machine while you grabbed pastries and muffins for what seemed like hours.

It being busy hasn't distracted you enough from the past couple of days with Yoongi.

Yoongi has respected the boundary you set-- for the most part. Walking passed you in the small space behind the counter, his hands brush along your back, a trail of heat following his fingertips. Though it's not the most intense of touches, there's a sensuality of it that leaves you nearly a panting mess.

Your conversations have been more open, you continue to ask him about his music and he wonders aloud about your studies. He learned that you were a history major, specializing in paleontology. Ever since then, he likes to ask questions about random dinosaurs. It's certainly cute, because you can tell he's genuinely interested but he's only interested because you're the one telling him.

You still haven't been able to listen to that song that he started, and he insist its because its not good enough for the rest of the world to hear it yet. You're sure its finished, he's just not ready for you to hear what it's about. Something tells you you're getting close though.

Yoongi turns around a few moments after your request, setting a Dirty Chai on the counter. You call out the customer's name and smile as you hand it to her.

"Swap me, babe. My hands are shaking."

Oh yeah, the pet names have evolved as well.

"Shaking?" you question, but you don't have enough time to dwell as the panini press dings and you're rushing to the other side of the front.

Sure enough, as you glance back Yoongi's hands are shaking while he begins handing out pastries.

Finishing up a few more coffees, you call out customer names and the dining room begins to clear out. The line is gone and a few groups sit in the dining room, eating their food.

The second that Yoongi hands the last pastry out, he walks to the back without saying a word to you.

Glancing at the customers, you swallow and follow him.

When you enter the kitchen, Yoongi's taking deep breaths against the sink. He doesn't notice you, so you lean opposite him against the counter.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on either side of Yoongi's face, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"That was a lot of people." Yoongi breathes.

"It was, but we kicked ass." you reassure him, but his breathing doesn't slow down.

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack," he explains, "can you hug me? P- pressure helps calm down the fight or flight response and-"

You don't allow him to finish, pulling him close to you and wrapping your arms tightly around him. His face buries itself into your neck, his breath fanning raggedly over your skin. It takes him a few moments, but his breathing slowly begins to calm, his heart rate slowing against your chest.

"If its ever getting to much for you just let me know and I'll fly solo for a little bit." you speak softly, your hand moving up to stroke the back of Yoongi's head.

"I can't do that to you," he sighs, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"No, I get it," your nails begin to scratch his scalp gently, "a lot of drunk people wanting food is overwhelming, especially when their patience is non-existent. If you ever need to take a breather then I won't get mad."

"You already hate closing with me, I don't want to make it worse."

Your heart breaks.

"No, I don't hate closing with you. I think I was just trying to hide my feelings." You never expected to say this to him, but at this point you'll do anything to make him feel better.

He pulls away from your neck, a shy smile on his face. He has done a complete 180 from two nights ago.

"You have feelings for me?"

"Well, I certainly feel something." You look down, hyper aware of how close he is to you.

He grins, leaning down and pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips. Before the conversation can go any further, the bell dings open and both of you jump apart, moving to the front to help yet another customer.

The rest of the night went by much more smoothly than earlier.

Yoongi turns on his music in the front while you do the dishes in the back. He's playing his usual mix, and you find yourself humming along to the songs as they come.

It's not until you're almost finished do you hear the familiar piano notes begin to play. Peaking your head out of the kitchen, Yoongi holds the speaker in his hands and watches you carefully. Slow melodies play out underneath his gentle voice, the lyrics portraying the man's first love.

You cross your arms, soaking in the lyrics as much as you can. His face is red as more emotion plays out. It doesn't take you long to realize that what you're listening to is the personification of Yoongi's passion. A conversation is held between him and the piano, and Yoongi sets flame to it all.

When the song comes to a close, you don't move, or breathe, or speak.

"Oh my god, say something!"

You look up, meeting Yoongi's scared eyes.

"When you become famous can I sell your autograph on ebay?"

Yoongi laughs, "Yeah, you can sell it."

You don't think of a witty response. Instead, you walk towards him and hug him once again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you two sway for a moment, almost dancing with the air. The atmosphere of the empty cafe has become much more calming than it was before.

His hands dance along your spine, "You know, I've never shown anyone that song before."

"I'm glad that my insistence made me the first." you tease, inhaling Yoongi's cologne. He certainly knows how to smell good.

"Your insistence, yes," he starts, "but also your impeccable ability to strengthen my confidence."

"Awe, does Yoongi have a soft spot for me?" you try your best to hide the way his smile is making your heart flutter.

"Always have." He murmurs, his lips kissing the tip of your nose.

"We're not very good at the whole 'not-kissing-at-work' thing." you giggle, feeling his grip tighten.

"I don't want to be good at it."

He doesn't allow you to respond before his lips are on yours once again. Against them, he smirks, "Shall we go to my car tonight?"

"God yes."

With steamy windows and Yoongi's hot body on top of yours, you both completely forget about your surroundings. His back seat is incredibly comfortable, your head resting on his shirt while he nips along your stomach and down to your hips.

It didn't take long for the two of you to move, you listening to Yoongi's every silent demand as he taps your hip to signal you to lift them.

Smiling, he murmurs a soft, "Good girl." before sliding your leggings and panties off in one go.

Now fully exposed, goosebumps raise under your skin. Yoongi is slow moving, his tongue drawing circles on your pelvic bone before biting down harshly. You gasp, your back arching into him.

"How long have you been this wet?" Yoongi asks, his fingers moving forward to collect your arousal. He slips through your folds, pushing a single finger into your aching heat.

You can't formulate a response to his question, because he begins a tormentingly slow thrust into your head, curling his finger upward.

Dipping his head down, his lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks.

Your hips jerk against him, but the pleasure doesn't play out for long before his pulling away.

"I don't want you to cum yet," he chuckles when you whine, standing and unbuckling his belt, "I just needed to make sure you were ready."

"And what?" you bite playfully, "you gonna pull out a huge snake or some shit?"

"I don't think so," Yoongi responds, sliding his pants down his legs, revealing his cock, "it's alright."

It's more than alright. Your mouth waters over the sight, twitching slightly from his arousal. It's curved upward, the tip already a hot red and leaking precum. His hand wraps around the base of it, stroking it slowly. Out of habit, you slide your middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your body and to your clit.

You eyes don't pull themselves away from the way Yoongi is skillfully touching himself, thumb running along the tip and a string of saliva falling from his mouth to the tip of his cock.

"You like watching me touch myself?" He asks, his voice significantly deeper than it was before. You nod, not looking away from his cock.

"Answer me." he takes his hand away from his cock and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's willing to sacrifice his own pleasure to get an answer out of you, and for some reason that only turns you on even more. You speed the movements on your clit, moaning softly while you look into Yoongi's eyes.

He clicks his tongue once he notices your movements, grabbing your wrist and dragging it up to his mouth. Licking your fingers clean, he grabs your other hand and holds both of your wrists against your pelvic bone, just out of reach of your heat. He likes playing games, and he likes to win.

"Yes," you finally manage, "yes I like watching you jerk off."

He grins, a gummy grin that makes him seem much more innocent than he is. The words are dirty falling from your tongue but it only seems to heighten the fire in Yoongi's eyes.

"Good," he says, gripping his cock again and thrusting into his hand, "should I let you cum just from watching me?"

Your wrists twitch in his other hand, "P- please."

"Okay, whatever you want princess."

He lets go of your hands and your fingers fly to your clit, desperately rubbing harsh circles while he continues to stroke himself.

As his pace speeds up, he begins to let out soft, subtle moans. Your chest heaves at the sounds, hands shaking while you push yourself even closer to the edge.

"Louder, Yoongi," you beg, "please."

Yoongi bites his bottom lip briefly, a small whimper falling from his mouth while you arch your back, the heat in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger.

Yoongi's hand stops suddenly, "Where do you want me to cum?"

You grin mischievously, gesturing to your core.

Yoongi's eyes widen, crawling closer to you and leaning down, "You want me to cum in your pussy?"

You nod frantically.

"Who would have thought my pretty princess was such a dirty girl."

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." you whine, pushing your heat towards him. Yoongi does just that, slipping his cock into you. You instantly clamp around him, causing his hips to stutter deeper into you.

He gains his rhythm quickly, not holding back as he holds your hips into his back seat and pounds into you harshly.

A deep growl erupts from his chest at your small whimpers, an almost primal instinct taking over him as he leans down to kiss you. The second his lips touch yours, you gasp and feel yourself release. A loud moan of his name falls from your lips as you come undone, pushing his hips into yours with your heels.

Yoongi follows suit quickly, his release coating your walls and his head collapsing onto your chest.

"Holy fuck." He says after a minute, his mouth agape while he tries to catch his breath.

"Better than you imagined?" You feel proud of yourself for having such a huge affect on Yoongi. It's not often does he seem caught off guard.

"Way better," he replies, "the best I've ever had."

You run your nails over his scalp again, feeling him shiver against you, "Maybe if you take me out, you'll be able to have it again."

Yoongi pulls his head up, "When, where, what time?"

"I'll leave that up to you," you smile, "let's just cuddle for now."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

[gashinabts]

philophobia|(m)

Words: 7.4k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: Taehyung, a man, who swears he’ll never fall in love meets Y/N a hopeless romantic.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing ( lmao idk if thats a thing?), squirting, sexual intercourse, mention of homophobia. Topics of child neglecting, if this makes you uncomfortable pls don’t read :) minor character death

A/N: Taehyung is a bisexual king! Tell me what you peeps think, remember that comments motivate me to continue writing!!! This is my work, no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Kim Taehyung was born December 30, 1995 his father left him when he was 11 years old that is when Taehyung realized that love never lasts. His mother pretended that his father never existed, she quickly hid the family photos away, along with covering his tomato garden with dirt. Taehyung wanted to ask where he went but stopped wondering when he heard a few of his classmates whispering that Taehyung’s dad left them for a young woman in her twenties. 

As Taehyung grew into his teenage years he would often get asked out by his classmates, he wouldn’t decline, accepting the dates to see if he can ever fall foolishly in love like his Mom once did. However, nothing ever happened, he would kiss them goodnight but won’t call them the next day. In high school he lost his virginity at a party, he wasn’t nervous, just did things he’s seen in filthy pornorgraphy. The very next day the girl spread the rumor that Taehyung was a sex god, that he probably had sex everyday with a different people. Was that a compliment? He remembered thinking to himself as he sat in the back of the classroom, feeling people secretly stare at him. 

That day he met Jimin. Jimin was a popular boy that everyone swoon over. Of course he had a girlfriend, they have been dating since middle school. The guys would gawk at her when she would wear a sports bra to track practice. Taehyung was in art class sketching an apple, Jimin came over and talked to him as if they were friends. It was nice, Taehyung listened to Jimin complain about his art. When class was over, Jimin asked Taehyung to hang out with him after school. When Taehyung sat on Jimin’s bed, he looked over on the desk and saw a picture of Jimin and his girlfriend. Right next to it was a picture of what he assumed was Jimin’s family. A Mom, Dad, an older brother, and Jimin. He turned his gaze back to Jimin...who was undressing in front of him. Jimin’s underwear was the only thing on, Taehyung didn’t expect him to have lean muscles and define abs. An hour later  they were both breathless, exhausted from the sex. 

“ I’m not gay.” Jimin tells Taehyung as he cleans himself with a rag. 

“ Okay.” Taehyung shrugs and pulls his pants up. He’s watched gay porn and straight porn before and got turned on by both of them, so it doesn’t come to much of a surprise that he enjoyed the sex with Jimin. 

*******

Taehyung watches from afar when Jimin kisses his girlfriend in the school halls, wondering if that’s love. The next few months, Taehyung and Jimin fool around more. Jimin would call Taehyung over, then they would fuck and they would both be on their way. There were never conversations or pillow talks, until right now.

“ I’m gay.” Jimin confesses to Taehyung. 

“Cool.” Taehyung shrugs, looking for his shoes. 

“ That’s all your gonna say?” Jimin rolls his eyes grabbing his t-shirt wiping the come on his stomach. 

“ I’m bisexual, happy?” Taehyung looks at his phone and notices a missed call from his mother. He tucks his phone away, “ Why are you still with her? Your girlfriend.” He finally asks the question he’s been meaning to ask since the beginning.

“ I love her and I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t love her like that.” Jimin looks at the picture of them and flips it down, almost ashamed of how much of a coward he is. “ Plus my Dad would kill me if I told him I like men.” He throws his head back looking at the ceiling not wanting to cry his eyes out. 

Taehyung thinks love is complicated, he thinks people who are in love are selfish. They rather hurt themselves for the sake of love. It’s stupid he wants to tell Jimin that but he keeps quiet until Jimin looks at him with tears eyes. “ I don’t know what to say…”

“It’s fine...you don’t have to say anything just keep me company, yeah?” 

“ Okay,” Taehyung sits back on the bed watching but not really watching tv with Jimin. 

---

Taehyung’s mom was proud of him when he got accepted to a good college, she would brag to her friends and show pictures of his acceptance letters. Along with bragging how she raised Taehyung all by herself. Taehyung didn’t mind that he was in the spotlight, whatever made his mom happy he would comply with whatever she does. He was good with numbers so he was going to major in data analysis, he really wanted to major in art but his mom laughed in his face, telling him to be realistic. 

Taehyung is now in his third year of college, wanting to just graduate already, done with the shitload of classwork and long ass lectures. Just right now he just finished his homework that took him three hours. He’s about to call it a night until Jungkook barges in his room, yelling at him to get dressed for a party. Taehyung switches his dirty hoodie with a clean hoodie, opting out grey sweatpants with jeans. He keeps his glasses on, due to his eyes being tired and not wanting to irritate them with contacts. 

Jungkook hands Taehyung a drink, there’s obscene music, blunts being handed around, and people grinding on each other. “ When’s the last time you got laid?” Jungkook asked, as he took a gulp of his beer.

“ Last week...I think.” Taehyung searches through his mental sex list, but can’t seem to remember the girls face or name. He looks around and watches a couple argue with each other. The man rolls his eyes as the woman tries not to cry, the woman ends up leaving him and going upstairs.

“ Damn, lucky. I tried to hook up with this girl and she ended up leaving me hanging. Claimed that she’s not over her boyfriend, started crying on me when I was going down on her.” Jungkook cringes, sipping more alcohol. “ Be my wingman, yeah?” 

“ Sure,” Taehyung nods. Jungkook is talking to this pretty girl, and she laughs at every joke that Jungkook makes. Taehyung wasn’t even sure why he asked him to his wingman when Jungkook can easily get a girl to bed. Jungkook nods absentmindedly when Taehyung excuses himself, he wanders around the frat house looking at people getting wasted. Once he gets tired of it he goes upstairs, hoping to find solace in an empty room. He opens a bedroom door, and notices a girl with a pencil and notebook. “ My bad-,” Taehyung is about to close the door.

You look up from your sketchpad, you see a tall man with messy curls and glasses. “ You can stay,” you observe him, he looks like he was forced to come here. There’s no red solo cup in his hand, he looks like he hasn’t a good night's rest. Also why else would he look mindlessly into rooms, the bathroom doors have a handwritten sign stating ‘BATHROOM’, so he must be bored or something searching into bedrooms. “ Or don’t. I don’t care.” You watch him close the door, entering the room.

“ Is this your room?” Taehyung looks around the room, noticing posters of naked women and marvel posters. Weird combination he notes. Along with the dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. 

“ No,” you laugh. Shutting your notebook close, taking notice of his nice hands brushing his hair back. “ My friend’s room. I didn’t really feel like partying just decided to sketch,” you lift your pad up. He nods and sits on the bed.

“ Can I draw?” Taehyung points towards the sketchpad. He hasn’t drawn in months too busy in his schoolwork, his fingers would sometimes draw on foggy windows but nothing more. You nod tearing a piece of paper out and handing him a pencil, he thanks you. 

You were sneakily glancing at him, sketching him, his angular jaw, messing hair, uneven eyelid, long eyelashes. Getting lost at his elegant features, wondering if he knows how beautiful he looks. You shake your head for easily fawning over this man. His hands are even beautiful, they travel across the paper gracefully with each stroke. You turn your eyes away when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks getting warm. “ What’s your name?” You ask while shading the contours of his cheeks.

“ Taehyung.” He folded his paper into a small square, putting it into his pocket. “ Yours?”

“ Y/N,” you smile.

---

“ Did you get laid yesterday night?” Jungkook is shirtless with scratch marks behind his back, there’s a couple of hickies on his neck.

Taehyung takes a sip of his tea before answering, “No, just talking to some girl. Her name is Y/N.” 

“ Y/N. She’s a nice girl. One time I forgot a scantron for class and she gave me one. She’s also friends with Namjoon.” Jungkook pours himself coffee sitting next to Taehyung. “ Are you interested in her?”

Taehyung would be lying if said he wasn’t interested in you. When he entered the room he thought you were pretty and had a kind smile. “ Maybe...why?” 

“ It’s best if you don’t try to get at her. Y/N looks the type to fall in love easily.” Jungkook sighs cracking his back on the back of the chair, groaning at his achy body. Taehyung wonders how can someone fall in love easily, he’s not one to believe in love at first sight or any kind of stuff in that realm. “ Alright, I’m gonna take a quick shower and then we can leave.” 

Taehyung and Jungkook are at the library studying or trying to study, Jungkook is texting someone the whole time instead of studying for his macroeconimics test. While Taehyung is playing video games on his phone. “ Hey guys! Didn’t know you actually study Jungkook,” Namjoon jokes, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook rolls his eyes pushing his hand off his head mumbling curse words at him. Taehyung looks to the side of Namjoon and notices you laughing as the scene unfolds. You’re carrying ice americanos and Jungkook immediately takes it out of the carrier, thanking you. 

You look at Taehyung placing one in front of him, “ I didn’t know what kind of coffee you liked.” Taehyung is wearing similar clothing to what he wore at the party, mostly muted green colors and his circle glasses, his hair is pushed back with a headband. He looks surprised to see you, but nevertheless thanks you for the coffee. The conversations between Jungkook and Namjoon get more serious when they finally decide to study for their materials. You try to study but you want to talk to Taehyung wanting to get to know him more, you nudge your foot against his leg. He looks up, looking at you in question, you nod your head towards the exit entrance, he nods slowly unsure to what you're up to but following your lead. Jungkook and Namjoon are too invested in their studying to see you and Taehyung leave. “ Do you wanna go to my apartment?”

“ Sure,” Taehyung shrugs. The apartment was small and kind of messy, you try to hurry up and toss some of the paintbrushes in the sink. There’s water cups filled with murky colors, and paint marks on the tables, he’s not used to a sight like this. In his apartment it is always clean and tidy, not a dirty plate in sight. “ You live by yourself?” he asked, placing his stuff on the table. 

“ Yeah, my roommate moved four months ago with her boyfriend.” You give up cleaning the mess since there’s too much to clean. “ Want some-” You are interrupted when you feel Taehyung’s lips on your, your hands push his chest flustered at the sudden kiss.

“ I-I- sorry...I must have read something wrong,” he looks embarrassed immediately backing up giving you space. “ I thought you invited me to your apartment for sex.” Taehyung notices how your eyes widen, fuck he feels like an ass, scared that he made you uncomfortable. “ I should go…” he goes to pick up his bags ready to bolt out.

“ I just wanted to talk...to get to know you better,” you speak before his hands grab the doorknob. “ We can paint and talk, if that's okay with you?” 

“ Are you sure? You don’t want me to leave?” 

“ Stay.” You go to the sink to wash your dirty brushes. 

Taehyung sits down looking at the wall, notices a canvas of a man, he has plump lips, gentle eyes, overall he is beautiful, something that seemed out of this world. Maybe it was the way it was painted that made it appear like that. “ You painted that?” Taehyung speaks shifting his gaze to you.

You look at where Taehyung was pointing at, it was the painting of your ex boyfriend, “ Yeah, that’s my ex boyfriend, Seokjin. The professor told us to paint the definition of love…,” you stare at Seokjin’s face, remembering the memories you shared. The brushes are all cleaned and you set them down, grabbing some water colors that are in the cabinet. 

“ Do you still love him?” Taehyung curiously asked, watching carefully at your reaction.

There’s a slight pain of thinking about him, truly not over his death. “ Yeah I’ll always have love for him…” 

Taehyung wants to ask more about him but doesn’t want to intrude, he doesn’t say anything else but paints. This is when Taehyung feels like he’s truly being himself painting, expressing himself without saying anything. Moments like these wish Taehyung would’ve chosen doing what he has a passion for insteading appealing to his mothers standards. 

“ Why are you a data analysis major?” The artwork he is doing is remarkable, there’s dark undertones and eerie about it but it is beautiful something that you have to keep staring at.

He chuckles, “ Because I need to eat.” You look down feeling a little insulted he must've noticed since he immediately apologizes. 

“ It’s okay. You know if you ever want to relax and paint, you can come here,” you continue painting small flowers. The first time, he smiles and nods his head.

---

5 months later

This is the third flower shop visited and he’s getting more tired with each second. “ This arrangement or this one?” You ask Taehyung, as you hold two bouquets. One was more filled with carnations and the other was filled with lilies. He gives it some thought before pointing at the carnations. “ This would be pretty to paint,” you smell it getting happy inside.

“ Finally, when can we eat...I didn't eat anything this morning,” his stomach growls at the thought of food. He’s still carrying the vases you bought at the thrift shop, you had to plead with you to not buy another antique mirror because he knows he would have to carry it to the apartment.

You gave the cashier the money, as he wraps the flowers in newspaper, turning your head you look at Taehyung, “ Why did you come with me if you were going to complain the whole time?” You laugh at his scrunched nose as you pinch it. The flowers are handed back and you thank the cashier, leaving with Taehyung.

“ Because I wanted to,” Taehyung shrugs. In your apartment he puts the flowers away as you cook him food, he always enjoys your cooking. When he was younger all he ever ate was ramen, never really ate some home cooked meals, his mother was always busy working trying to financially support the family so he never once asked his mom for dinner. Even at his own apartment he doesn’t eat Jungkook’s food since he doesn’t know how to cook either. Sometimes when he’s hungry he’ll just come to your apartment and you’ll be more than happy to cook for him.

When Taehyung enters his apartment Jungkook is watching anime, foot propped on the table and sipping some beer. “ Back from your girlfriends’ so soon?” 

“ Not my girlfriend but yeah, I left my schoolwork here so I had to come back,” he sighs. Taehyung doesn’t get mad when Jungkook teases him about you being his girlfriend, but he sometimes gets annoyed. He likes the friendship between the two of you, it’s different from any other friendships he had in the past. “ Tomorrow night the apartment is mine. This guy wants to hangout with me.”

“ Just say he wants to fuck you,” Jungkook yells as Taehyung closes his bedroom door. 

---

You meet Taehyung at the park with some bread, he hugs you and asks about your day. “ It was okay. Had lunch with my Dad, but it always ends up in some lecture. I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m fifteen or something,” you tear a piece of bread throwing it into the pond watching some ducks gobble it. You try to look at Taehyung but it hurts when you see some hickies on his neck. On the day you were about to confess your feelings to Taehyung you asked him if he ever loved someone, he laughed and said that he doesn’t believe in no such thing as love. As much as you wanted to disapprove of that idea, you couldn’t be the one to change it.

He grabs some bread, chucking some pieces out, “ What was the argument?”

You laugh thinking about your Dad’s red face, “ I invited him to my apartment, and he found the blunt we smoked together in the ashtray.”

“ Shit, I should’ve thrown it away,” Taehyung laughs too, pushing some of his hair back. 

“ Just glad he didn’t find any of my sex toys,” you cringe just thinking about it. You feel something tugging the end of your skirt, looking down you see a toddler smiling cheekily pointing at the bread. You smile, “ Here, have fun,” you hand him the rest of your bread. You watch him wobble as he runs to his mother throwing the whole slice in the water. 

“ Sex toys?” Taehyung asked once the child was out of sight. “ Like what?,” Taehyung is interested, he doesn’t know, maybe because he can’t imagine you using them. Or he wants to know how you use it. There were times when Taehyung wanted to have sex with you but he turned those urges off. He doesn’t want to give you mixed signals remembering Jungkook’s words of advice. “ Never-”

“ A dildo, vibrator, hitachi wand, or even my favorite pillow,” you trail off not thinking much until you realize who you are confessing to. “ I-I uh…”

“ How often?,” Taehyung asked quietly, not wanting any other people hearing the conversation. He shouldn’t get turned on but he is.

Something about Taehyung’s deep quiet voice is making you squeeze your thighs, “ Every night…” You're still looking at the pond, watching the ripples that are caused by the ducks swimming away. You can feel Taehyung's stare but you ignore it. The conversation switches to another topic when you talk about your school work. The sun sets and you both part ways.

The sound of tea kettle wakes you up from your concentration of you sketching, sighing you pour yourself the tea. Looking at your art, you turn it over not wanting to see Taehyung’s face right now. But fate has different plans when you hear knocking on the door, Taehyung appears, he lets himself in and is close to your face.

“ Taehyung?” You’re puzzled at his frazzled state, deeply staring into your eyes. 

“ Can I kiss you?” The words are quiet but firm. Stupidly you nod, not caring about any consequences. His hands cup your face, immediately going into the kiss. The kisses get deeper, his hands travel to your hips bringing you closer to him quickly, you lose friction from the fluffy socks you're wearing causing you to slip, immediately grabbing Taehyung as you fall backwards. His hands are quick to save himself from not falling onto you. There’s a slight pain on your tailbone but is immediately forgotten when Taehyung goes back to kissing you.

The big t-shirt you are wearing is tossed, his hands immediately fondle your breast, his lips leaving kisses on your neck, groaning as he pushes his bulge against your clothed core. “ Taehyung...let me touch you,” you moan when he bites your neck. He pulls back, pecking your lips before taking off his clothes. Your hands trail against his chest, his stomach, towards his pelvic, trying to remember every part of him. He is surprised to have you touching him like he was some marvel statue, usually his past hookups just rush into the sex. It’s very intimate and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 Taehyung groans when you touch his dick, he’s hard and wants to be inside of you already. He comes down kissing you, his hands get rid of your panties, fingers spreading your wetness. The moans you let out are turning him on even more, he stretches you out with his fingers. He likes the way your eyes flutter, the shape of your lips tremble, along with your chest inhaling and exhaling deeply. “ You are so pretty,” he doesn’t mean to say it loudly but he does. There’s a blush that blooms on your cheeks, it reminds him of the flowers you would get to study paint.

“ Taehyung,” you moan slightly flustered at his compliment. He reaches for his pants grabbing a condom. “ You don’t want to go to the bedroom?” The floor is still cold against your back, and the last time you cleaned the floor was days ago. 

Taehyung shakes head, already putting on the condom not wanting to waste time, “ Too far,” he smiles when you laugh. He enters you feeling you clench tightly around, he moans digging his head into your neck. “ You are so tight,” he groans. “ Feels so fucking good, having you like this,” he confesses.

You moan loudly, his thick cock streching “ Oh fuck, Taehyung, please just fuck me,” your hands go to his waist urging him to move. He listens to your command, thrusting slowly trying to get deep as he can. Maybe if you can close your eyes you can pretend that he’s in love with you. He goes faster and cries at the pace he’s going, the pleasure is overwhelming, something that you can’t get with your own hands. “ I’m close already,” your hand goes to tug at his wavy hair.

“ Me too,” his voice is deeper. His hand travels down to your pussy searching for your clit and rubbing it. “ Come for me,” he says into your ear. You moan his name loudly, cumming around his cock, scratching his back. The sight of you creaming around him makes him immediately come, he searches for your lips, moaning your name in the kiss. The two of you lay in the afterglow of the sex, panting loudly his body is barely being hold up, and you laying on the hard floor.

Taehyung gets up throwing his condom away, he looks at you still laying on the floor with your eyes close, the realization of him having sex with you just popped up. He hurriedly gets dressed, then helps you get dressed, he gets shocked when you kiss him as a thank you. The next morning Taehyung wakes up early, making sure to leave quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep.

---

You weren’t going to lie, it kind of hurt not waking up beside Taehyung but you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. Namjoon invites you to a kick back, only inviting a few people to his house to chill and drink. You take solace on the couch, watching people get high and drunk, you weren’t in the mood to do either so you make conversation with a slightly high Hoseok. He’s in mid-discussion about Shrek being a cinematic masterpiece, when Jungkook yells from the door entrance that he has Taco Bell. Taehyung is beside him wearing all black beanie, crewneck, and sweatpants, but still looks better than half of the people here.

 You turn your gaze back to Hoseok who’s left walking towards Jungkook immediately grabbing a taco. Sighing you decide to get fresh air, staring at the tall dark buildings. “ Whatcha you doing here by yourself? It’s fucking freezing,” Taehyung speaks out closing the slider door standing by you. He takes off his vape pen inhaling it.

“ Wanted fresh air,” you shrug, still staring at the buildings. “ Hoseok left me for tacos. He was onto something, saying that Shrek is a masterpiece. Who knows maybe he’ll write his thesis about it.” Taehyung chuckles, he keeps looking at you and you finally stare at him. “ Why’d you kiss me yesterday?”

He blows out the smoke, and puts his pen away, “ Cuz I wanted to,” he shrugs not thinking much about it. 

“ Nothing else?” You arch your eyebrow.

He continues to stare into your eyes “ Nope,” he shakes his head.  

Some part of you wanted him to say that he had feelings for you but in the back of your mind you knew that wasn’t going to happen. You smile pushing his chest, “ Well that’s the last time we are ever going to do anything like that.” The both of you know that is a lie.

---

For the next couple of months you and Taehyung continue sleeping with each other.

When you are studying with Namjoon in the library, Jungkook and Taehyung spontaneously show up, causing Namjoon to groan. “ You know you love me,” Jungkook jokingly says sitting next to him. 

Taehyung sits down next to you, looking at your classwork, “ How long have you been studying,” he whispers. 

You turn to look at the time of your phone, “ Like four hours,” you sigh. He hands you a jolly rancher, you immediately put in your mouth. “ Why are you here? You texted me that you were going to take a fat ass nap?”

“ I wanted to see you, kind of missed you,” he lays his head against the table. His eyes close when you brush his soft hair. 

“ I’ll be done in forty minutes.” He lets off a quiet okay continuing to look at you doing your work. 

Taehyung wakes up to you caressing his cheek, his neck is in pain from the awkward position he slept in. “ Where did Jungkook and Namjoon go?,” he looks at the empty seats. He tries to crack his neck and watches you pack your stuff.

“ They left about twenty minutes ago,” you get up stretching your legs. “ Let’s head home. We still have left over pizza,” you groan at the pain on your lower back. 

For some odd reason Taehyung liked hearing you say home, there’s some comfort it gives him but he never says it out loud. Taehyung grabs your backpack, holding it for you as you walk towards your car. You look in the fridge for the pizza, but Taehyung has other plans when he closes the fridge door, pinning you against it kissing you feverishly, his tongue already begging for entrance. Laughing you push him away, “ What’s gotten into you?”

“ I told you...I miss you,” his hands are on your waist. He kisses you again, picking you up easily and placing you on the kitchen table. He takes off your pants and panties, and you reach for his pants but he stops you forcing you to lie completely on the table. “ Look at you, laying so pretty on the table,” he bends down kissing you on your lips before he goes down on you. 

He licks your cunt, gently prodding his tongue up and down. Your hips move frantically wanting to feel more of him. His rough hands pin your hips, and he continues with his teasing, lightly kissing your clit before touring you with his slow pace.  “ Look at your pussy, it looks like the roses you painted yesterday…,” his finger goes up and down your folds.

The words make your cheeks grow hot, “ No it doesn’t,” you get shy shaking your head. The embarrassment fills your body, for maybe shamelessly liking his compliment. You are probably never going to look at roses the same way ever again.

“ Yeah, it does Y/N, but your pussy is more pretty,” he continues to tease you. Wanting to see you get more flustered, he likes it when you do it gets him more turned on. “ I wonder if it smells like roses too,” he’s about to smell your pussy but you hold his head. He watches you cutely shake your head. 

Taehyung is filthy but it makes you get even more aroused. “ It won’t,” you whisper, wanting to cry but he shakes his kissing the inside of your thigh to try to comfort you. 

He smells your pussy and he groans, your heart thumps faster and nervous for what's about to say, “ It smells better,” he kisses your clit. His tongue keeps tracing your folds gently wanting to make you beg for more. The movement of his tongue makes you want to pull your own hair out. The pleasure is barely there but it grows within each second of his tongue flicking up and down.

“ Taehyung,” you let out desperate whine, “ please, I need more.” One of his hands slap your cunt, and your back arches surprise but even more turned on. You never knew that you were into that. The sting hurts at first but shoots up ecstasy after a nanosecond, you can’t help but seek more. “ More!” 

Taehyung lets out a dark chuckle, he gives you another slap, slightly harder on the center of your clit, the stinging making your face scrunch up but letting out a lewd moan. He groans at your wetness seeping out some of it landing on the table.

Suddenly, he is done with all the teasing, and dives in, nose touching your clit and tongue inside your entrance going in and out. Finding it extremely hot that you are riding his face, like the pillow on your bed. Taehyung vividly remembers when you showed him how you ride your pillow last week. The way you desperately let out cute whines trying so hard to relieve yourself as Taehyung only watched, wanting to see you get off without his help. 

He moves his face side to side so his nose can rub your clit. Head in the clouds, your body is floating with ecstasy wanting to stay in it forever. Your hands reach down trying to anchor yourself, Taehyung reaches for your hand holding it tight. You cry out his name loudly, coming intensely, your eyes are shut when it doesn’t seem to stop. Your body finally calms down, looking down you see Taehyung’s face is completely wet. “ Oh my god, did I-

“ Fuck, that was hot,” Taehyung wipes his face with the back his arm. He kisses your lips, he helps you from the table, handing you your panties. 

“ Let me repay you?,” you tug at his belt loop, you look down to see the bulge is gone and there’s a wet stain. Your eyes widen, “ Did you come?”

“ Yeah, you squirting on me, made me bust a nut. I swore I never came that hard either,” he sighs happily. Laughing you go towards the fridge, finally eating the cold pizza. You hand him one and he eats it in two bites. “ My mom called me today…”

Taehyung hardly talks about his family, you only know that he was raised only by his mother. He never talked bad about her but you can tell that they didn’t have a close  relationship. “ What happened?” You and Taehyung move so you're sitting on the couch.

“ She told me that my father wanted to meet up with me,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “ Told her that I don’t want to. She started crying and telling me that he’s my father...I sometimes think she’s still in love with him. She’s an idiot.” He lays his back staring at the ceiling.

“ Sometimes it’s hard to get over someone that you once loved. The one you shared your laughs, arguments, touches, memories...vanish into thin air... or you could hold onto it. Love isn’t easy...it’s messy, it’s confusing but it’s beautiful being able to share it with someone. Don’t you think?” You look at Taehyung’s side profile.

Taehyung turns his head looking at you, “ I don’t know...I will never fall in love. I don’t want to end up like my parents,” he closes his eyes.

“ Taehyung-“

He opens his eyes smiling, grabbing your hands, “ Let’s head to bed,” already over the conversation. 

---

Jungkook is cooking breakfast and almost burns his hand when a random girl walks out of Taehyung’s room. Immediately she exits their apartment, doing the walk of shame. Taehyung walks out shirtless with hickies on his chest and dishevelled hair. Jungkook clears his throat, “ Thought you were seeing Y/N,” he turns off the stove.

Taehyung grabs a glass of water, “ We are just friends,” he takes several gulps.

Jungkook scoffs rolling his eyes at his friend’s stupidity, “ Yeah, friends who have sex, hold hands, and almost spend every night together. My bad I forgot they changed the definition of ‘friends’ in the Webster dictionary.”

“ Whatever man...I'm out of here,” Taehyung leaves the kitchen going to his room. He looks at himself in the mirror, disgusted at his appearance, at the splotchy marks on his neck. Why am I like this? Taehyung leaves his apartment ignoring Jungkook, entering your apartment with his set of keys. He looks at you cooking pancakes, you look at him quickly and smiling.

“ Hey...you want some? It’s your favorite banana pancakes,” you flip the pancake. He looks at the big stack of pancakes you have on the table, you continue with the last couple of pancakes and sit down taking a couple of bites. You are consumed by the taste, not really focusing on Taehyung until he clears his throat, looking at him you notice marks on his neck. Your heart plummets, you thought the whole time the two of you have been messing around he wasn’t seeing anyone else. “ You hooked up with someone else yesterday?,” you set your utensils down.

Taehyung nods trying to look nonchalant, “ Yeah, is that a problem?” 

“ No,” you try to lie to yourself but it’s no use, your face looks the opposite of how you feel, disheartening, you can’t save face even if your life's on the line. Swallowing hard you shake your head, “ Actually, yes. It is a problem,” you sigh. “ I don’t understand you. You treat me like a lover, but then you do things like this…” you get up from the kitchen table tossing the plates in the sink, not caring that you didn’t finish the meal, “ I open my heart with you but you don’t do the same. I feel used in this relationship or whatever the hell this is,” your hands clenched tightly as you turn around and face Taehyung.

He’s now by the kitchen counter standing up, “ I told you I’m not looking for love. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed feelings but I don’t want this to end whatever we have with each other. I like how things are-”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words, “ Well I don’t...if you want to fuck around then do it... I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore.” The angry tears stream down your face, your hands wipe them before he could, “ Go Taehyung. I wish you the best,” his face is etched with subtle pain, turning away from him you wash the dishes not bothering to look at the sound of him leaving.

---

Three days later

Taehyung hasn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning, giving up completely and decides to study all night long. This has been a daily occurrence since the fight with you. I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore. Taehyung groans, wanting to get the image of you out of his brain. Jungkook knocks on his door, eyes widening at the sight of him, “ You look like shit, c’mon Namjoon is having another get together.”

When Taehyung shows up to the party he watches you have a conversation with Hoseok, from a far distant, unsure how you would react if you saw him. Taehyung waits till Hoseok leaves, walking towards you as you are on your phone texting someone. He watches you jolt as he calls your name. “ Hey,” you greet him but there’s no smile or warmth like you usually greet. And he hates it, it makes him feel like a stranger.

“ About the last time, I’m sorry that we got into an argument,” Taehyung apologizes, he tucks his hands in his pockets, a nervous tick he developed when he was elementary. 

“ Ok,” you nod your head, not wanting to discuss something so private in a social setting. “ I should get going, I got a research paper to go over,” you give him one last glance and leave, not saying goodbye to anyone else.

Taehyung doesn’t like the way your back faces him, leaving him all alone with a place full of people. He pushes against people not wanting to let you go so easily, he wants to talk to you, he wants to hear you talk. He wants to lay in your bed and listen to your heart beat while you stroke his hair, letting him fall asleep in your arms. You're opening your car door, and you halt when he calls your name, you wait patiently for what he’s going to say. Please stay.  “ I-I uh...I wish you the best, Y/N” Taehyung says. He watches you give him one last small smile and drive away. 

---

Six months later

Taehyung hates visiting his mother, there’s always something unsettling when he enters his childhood home. As soon as greets his mother she comments about his weight, his slightly long wavy hair, and baggy clothes. She doesn’t ask him college, she never does. Instead he listens to her talk about her work. “ I told your father that you're in town,” she says over the sound of the faucet. Taehyung nods, handing her the dirty dishes, “ I told him you are free tomorrow, you are going to visit him at IHOP,” she leaves no room for argument. 

The sun wakes up Taehyung before his alarm does, he doesn’t really put in effort to look nice but when his mother gives him a look, he changes into something more appropriate. Maybe if Taehyung was in middle school he would be nervous meeting his father but now that he’s an adult he couldn’t care less. It takes him a while to find his father, he looks older from his adolescent years, has a few gray hairs and slightly wrinkled skin. His father stands up, and Taehyung immediately holds his hand out giving him a handshake not wanting to receive an awkward hug. His father looks surprised but compiles, awkwardly laughing and sits down taking a gulp of his hot black coffee. “ I ordered your favorite,” his father points to the triple drizzle chocolate milkshake with a red cherry on top that is set in front of Taehyung. “ How are you kiddo? You look so grown up, your mother has been feeding you well, huh?”

“ Yup.” Taehyung looks at the red cherry. 

There’s too much uncomfortable tension, and his father is letting more awkward coughs to try to fill the silence. “ Almost done with college, yeah? Just three more months, and you gotta face the real world,” his father comments.

Taehyung has been facing the real world since he was a teenager, he worked when he was in highschool to pay for college, he cooked his own dinner because his mother always came home late, he didn’t need to graduate college to find out the world was shitty. “ Yeah.”

His father tries really hard to have some sort of conversation with his son.“ You still like to paint?”

Taehyung smiles, getting reminded of you. He wonders what you are doing right now, if you are painting the canvas he bought you when you guys were friends. “ No. I mean yeah, sorta. I painted with this girl, she made me fall back in love with painting but I did something horrible to her. Now I can’t paint without thinking about her,” he sighs. 

There’s surprise etched on his father’s face, since more than a word came out of his son’s mouth. “ Seems like a very important person to you. You should talk things out with her, don’t want to lose someone like that.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “ Why? You did the same thing to us.”

“ Taehyung-”

“ You really fucked me up father, I hate that you and mom made me this way. I want to love her but I’m scared...what if she ends up leaving me like you did. I rather be alone for the rest of my life than to have someone steal a part of me,” Taehyung grits his teeth.

“ I-I I’m sorry Taehyung...I really am. I hate myself everyday for not visiting you, I should’ve been there for you...Your mother and I once loved each other but sometimes people fall out of love, but that doesn’t mean love is evil. Don’t give up on love because of our failed marriage, son, you deserve to be in love.”

---

One week later

“ Fuck, watch where you going asshole,” you yell at the asshole who wasn’t paying attention that made you drop all of your art supplies. He doesn’t even bother apologizing, just continues to walk with his friends. You pick up your pencils, someone helps you pick up your other materials. “ Thank-” you stop midway when your eyes are met with Taehyung. He hands you the sketchpads, you quickly put it in your bag, “ Thanks.”

“ No problem. You just got out of class?,” he asked intently looking at you.

His hair is pushed back by his headband, showing his forehead, he’s wearing his usual baggy grandpa clothes. It makes your heart flutter, but you quickly push the feeling away. “ Yeah, but I have to go back to pick up my two pieces,” you shrug. 

“ You need a hand?” He offers with a careful smile.

You contemplate, you don’t want to make two trips, “ If you’re not busy…”

He eagerly shakes his head. “ I’m not, let me help.” Taehyung follows you to the art room, and picks up the pieces easily despite it being large canvases. There’s silence when you are done putting it in your car. 

“ Thank you,” you give him a grateful smile. “ Do you need to ride home?”

Taehyung took his car to campus but he lies, he accepts your offer in hopes that you guys can talk things over. The radio is on low, and Taehyung is almost near his apartment, “ I lied I don’t need a ride,” he starts off and you let out a surprise laugh.

“ Why are you just telling me now?,” you are about two minutes from the destination. 

“ I wanted to talk to you about what happened to us-”

You sigh, not wanting to reopen bandage wounds on your heart, “ Taehyung, I’m over it-” 

His head turns to face you, “ I love you. I think I always loved you since we became friends. I was scared to tell you because it was something so new for me...I was selfish, I thought that everything we had was fine but I never took your feelings into consideration.” He’s breathing really hard because he finally confessed his heart out, something he vowed he’ll never do since he was a child. 

“ Why? Why now?,” you swallow hard, not looking at him but only the road. Scared that if you look into his eyes, you’ll get lost into them. 

“ It took me a while to come in terms with how I am feeling. Because love is messy right?,” his voice cracks.

The car is now parked in his driveway, “ Yeah, it is.” Turning to finally face him, he has little tears in his eyes that haven’t fallen. “ I still love you, Taehyung,” your hand touches his soft cheek, caressing it. Taehyung leans closer to you and you close your eyes expecting a kiss, instead he sobs against your neck. Feeling wet tears against your neck, you try to coddle him but the tight space in the car is not giving you any room to do so. “ Tae, why are you crying?,” you comb the back of his curls.

Taehyung pulls away giving you a tearful smile, “ Because for the first time in my life I know what love is.”

end.

[scoopsohboi]

cheers, my dear (robin buckley imagine)

pairing: Robin Buckley/Reader

wc: 1759

warnings: alcohol, smut

read on ao3

The shrill sound of the landline made your skin crawl and you groaned loudly as Robin turned the dial on the stereo to drown out the insistent ringing.

“Why does he keep calling?” you whined as your best friend danced to the music while walking back to the kitchen table you two had been seated at.

It was Friday night, which meant Robin was sleeping over and the two of you had free range of the house since your mom worked late on Fridays. You watched as she swayed her hips rhythmically and your cheeks grew hot as she flipped her hair.

“Because he misses you, babe,” Robin replied nonchalantly while she grabbed the bottle of brown liquor left near two dirty shot glasses and you forced yourself to look away.

You let out a groan. You’d only been dating Greg for a couple months, and since you weren’t really interested in him, you’d broken up with him earlier after school. You thought he’d taken it well, but he’d been calling non-stop for the past hour. You felt bad ignoring the calls, but you really didn’t know what else there was to be said.

“Here,” Robin said and slid you a full shot glass.

You took the glass gratefully and, once Robin had hers in her hand, clinked it against hers.

“Cheers, my dear,” you said and tossed back the drink, now only slightly feeling the burn down your throat.

xxXXXXXxx

You didn’t remember how you’d ended up sitting on the floor in the middle of your bedroom with Robin, but you knew it had been funny. After drinking one too many shots, the two of you had run up to your room and were now laughing uncontrollably, but why it was funny was beyond you. You just liked the sound of Robin’s laugh and you’d be damned if you were the reason it ended.

You swayed a little and leaned into Robin’s shoulder as you giggled. The alcohol was fuzzing your brain, thoughts bubbling up to the surface just to pop before you could realize them. You felt good, though, that was clear enough.

Robin threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh as her body softly shook in rhythm to the sweet sound. You felt it again, that churn in your stomach and burn in your chest. You tried to fight it back, the usual routine, but the feel of Robin against you and the warmth from the whisky made it impossible.

And, if you were being honest, you just didn’t feel like pushing back the feelings.

You always had to be on your best behavior. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t say that. Don’t stare too long. Don’t touch her arm like that. Laugh so she doesn’t know how true it is. Lie. Hide.

Moments alone with Robin always felt so fragile. One wrong step and everything could shatter.

But what if she felt the same way?

You’d caught her staring, too, over the years. You’d seen the look in her eye when the two of you would stay up late during sleepovers, lay in bed inches from each other, sometimes talking and sometimes just silently being together.

Robin leaned back a little too far, fell on her back, and laughed harder as you fell back beside her.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed.

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted, a little louder than intended, and you snorted.

“Yours ‘cause you’re a lightweight,” you slurred. Robin rolled her eyes but smiled brightly.

“Shut up, I’m perfect.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied as you rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. “My perfect, lightweight, Robin,” you cooed as you reached out and cupped her cheek playfully.

Robin’s gaze shifted to your lips briefly and something inside you flared up. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A flame that was always lit simple turned up, fed by Robin’s breath as it softly hit your arm.

You leaned in easily as a surge of confidence coursed through your veins like a shot of adrenaline. You pressed your lips against hers, slightly messily at first and you thought maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to do this for the first time when you were both a bit inebriated.

But then you felt Robin kiss you back. Her hands went to your waist and her soft lips began to move with yours and fuck it if this wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You moved closer so you were better positioned on top of her, one leg between her thighs as one of her hands moved to your ass and her tongue slid along your bottom lip. You parted your lips as you ground your hips down and gave much needed friction to you both while her tongue swirled around yours.

Robin let out a soft moan and encouraged you to keep moving your hips, and you were more than happy to oblige. She bit your lip and you kissed her hungrily. Robin squeezed your ass as she tried to pull you closer to her. You began to move faster and ground roughly against her, rode her thigh harder as you both grew more frantic, years of yearning and lust finally breaking free.

You broke away from Robin’s lips to kiss a trail down her neck and relished every sound she made as you nibbled the soft skin or flicked your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” you nearly growled.

You were beginning to feel lightheaded and gripped her hips for stability as you continued to ride her, her soft breathy moans made your head swim. Forget the whisky, you were drunk on Robin now.

You felt her hands tug on your hem of your shirt and you sat up more so she could lift it over your head. Robin tossed the shirt to the side before unclasping your bra with quick precision. You felt your cheeks flush uncontrollably as she looked up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she said, voice low as she cupped your breast and thumbed over the nipple.

A chill ran down your spine and you hummed softly as you bucked your hips.

“Fuck, Robin,” you muttered, and she softly pinched your nipple as she rolled her hips and urged you to keep moving.

Your breath hitched. You worked yourself against Robin’s leg and could feel your body grow hotter as soft moans escaped your lips. You’d been intimate with other people, but not like this. Never like this. This was raw, and honest, and felt more real than anything else. You wanted more. You needed more.

You moved your hands to Robin’s jeans and let your fingertips run along the skin below her bellybutton. Her hand still on your breast tightened and you bit you lip. You watched Robin’s face as you undid her button and zipper, and sucked on two of your fingers before you slipped them in below the elastic of her underwear.

If Robin had looked lustful before, she now looked like she would burst. Her lips parted and chest heaved as she drew a ragged breath, eyes wide and trained on yours as your fingers began to rub around her clit. You realized you hadn’t even needed to use any spit because Robin was already soaking wet, your fingers sliding in the slick heat.

Robin let out a louder, longer moan than the ones previously elicited, and you made sure to pay close attention to her body movements. You swirled and stayed where her hips bucked and slid inside when her fingers dug into your hips. You kept one hand between her thighs and the other under her shirt as you played with her breasts and unwaveringly rubbed yourself against her thigh.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moaned, and you could tell she was close.

You worked harder and unrelented as her back arched under you. Her moans turned frustrated as she climbed toward her climax and you leaned forward to kiss her. As her tongue touched yours, her hips bucked, and she moaned into your mouth.

You could feel her whole body tremble as you worked her through her orgasm, and you kept your fingers moving until she was done. Watching her put you over the edge as well, and it took you a moment to catch your breath.

Once you were able to form coherent thoughts again, you slid your slick fingers out from between Robin’s thighs and licked Robin off them, the flavor making you wish you hadn’t used your fingers.

“I want to taste you next time,” you admitted aloud and Robin looked speechless.

Robin leaned up and pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, hand on either side of her face as she led you back down with her, mouth open and tongues dancing deliciously. She cupped your ass with one hand and tangled the other in your hair, holding you firmly against her lips. You stayed that way for a moment and enjoyed the way it felt to have Robin’s body flush against yours.

“You have no idea,” Robin began before breaking as you kiss her again, unable to stop now that the floodgates had been broken, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You kissed Robin’s lips softly before looking in her deep blue eyes. No idea? Did she really think you hadn’t been dreaming of this moment, too?

“I think I might,” you said as thoughts of longing stares and chest aches flashed through your mind.

“But Greg-”

“Was a distraction. And a poor one at that.” Robin’s brows furrowed and you couldn’t help but place a soft peck between them. “I only went out with him to... to try and get you off my mind. I’d hoped being with someone would make me stop thinking about you all the time.”

Robin bit the inside of her cheek as she watched you carefully.

“And?”

“And, turns out that’s fucking impossible. I mean damn, Robin, have you met you? I never stood a chance.”

Robin blinked as a soft smile grew on her lips and you couldn’t calm the butterflies that flitted about in your stomach.

“We’re dumb,” she said simply.

You laughed a little and nodded your head.

“Oh, yeah. Very.”

Robin grinned.

“I really like you, dingus,” she said sweetly as she cupped your cheek to bring you back in.

“I really like you, too, dummy,” you whispered against her lips before she kissed you, and you felt her smile.

[dear-yandere]

[ kinktober day 2 — dying light. ]

yandere! ghostface (jed olsen) x f! reader. oneshot.

summary. they’ll get away. they’ll get away and leave you behind with him—but you want that, don’t you?

— word count: 2108. — prompts: predator/prey + choking + knife play. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, slut-shaming). — art credit: 765122.

kinktober masterlist.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down, sweetheart.”

It’s gruffer than you expected, his voice. Mischievous and malicious, airy and curious, the type of tone you’d take with a friend—lighthearted. As if he wasn’t holding you by knife point. His words almost have a musical ring to it, the hum of a killer seeking prey whose hiding spot he’s long been aware of. 

He’s playing with you.

“Should I stuff your mouth instead? Wouldn’t want your little friends hearing you moan my name, would you?” His hand is still around your neck, squeezing it tightly between dried blood and old leather, and his other lazily waves a bloodied tactical knife through the air. “Or, would you like that? Your call, toots.” You can feel desire roll from his body, from his blade smeared with the stale blood of unlucky victims. The glint of steel begs to be coated by your blood, but he won’t have that. Not yet. Not until he’s had his fun.

“Cat got your tongue?” He tips your chin using knife’s edge, and you hurry to answer if you know what’s best for you.

“No…” You barely manage to breathe out. Your throat burns with the reminder that your life is literally in his hands, and if his mask had been off, you’re sure he’d be grinning.

“Mm, what’s that babe? Gotta speak up or I can’t hear ya.” He licks his lips and squeezes, a dull chuckle hollowed by his mask. “You said you want me to bring them here?”

“N-no! Please, no.” You sputter, the burning in your throat growing with each second. His grip is loose enough to keep you from passing out, but inklings of black begin to spot your vision. “Don’t… let them see me like this.” Your answer comes quick, quicker than you’ve been answering for the past few minutes. He knows what you were playing at—trying to buy time for your teammates. He should’ve left minutes ago to patrol the leftover gens, but you had the misfortune of piquing his interest after a long chase.

He tilts his head. He’s struck a nerve, it seems, and your tongue scrambles to make you appear less weak. “I—if they saw me with you, they’d never forgive me, they’ll—”

“They’ll think you’re a traitor.” He finishes, lips curling into an impish smirk. What little strength was left in your sore thighs slackened, the ugly feeling of desperation coiling against your tummy. The killer continues, his tone indifferent, nonchalant, as if the prospect of catching one of your trusted friends fucking the enemy is commonplace. “One of them could walk by right now, looking for me, looking for you, wondering why I’m not out and about, wondering why you haven’t been healed yet.” He laughs through his nose. Oh, could you be any more precious? The way fear flits across your face like a dance, the way your lips tremble and refuse to stay still—you’re so easy to read. “What d’ya think they’ll say when they see you like this, sweets?”

“No!” You choke and whine into his hands at the sheer thought. To lose your dignity and your fellow survivor’s trust like that… you’ll never survive another match.

He disregards your pained moans and hums inquisitively, grinding against the swell of your thigh with his hardened cock, shamelessly hidden beneath his robes while you lay exposed against the shack wall. You’re still uselessly trying to claw his hand from your neck, choking and sputtering for air as he tightens his grip, but your attempts hardly make a dent in the thick leather gloves. Precious, pretty little thing you are. He wonders how you’ll look with your mouth stuffed full with his cock and his knife lodged tight in your stomach.

You make it so hard to control himself.

He grins when your fingers abandon the hand around your neck and crawl along his arm, eager to push him off and buy enough time to find a teammate. You wouldn’t get far anyway, consider he’s been stalking you for quite some time. Every weakness and fear is completely exposed before him—did you think he wouldn’t notice that limp in your step from last chase? Poor thing, must’ve twisted your ankle when he chased after your tight ass moments ago. As if teasing you for being so needy—even if it isn’t yet for his cock—the edge of his boots smash into your weakened ankle.

You didn’t put up a fight—couldn’t put up a fight. Your crumpled body would’ve fallen to the splintered floorboards if he hadn’t caught you in time. He squeezes your thin neck harder— rougher—and you swear your esophagus will explode. Screams are robbed from the pleasure of leaving your mouth, all you can feel is dry burning, all you can do is wheeze and cry just how he likes it.

The dull edge of his knife violates your mouth, not quite filling you entirely, but you refuse to flinch.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, y’know, bating my time, fantasizing about all the dirty things I’d do when you’re helpless beneath me.” He holds you the way fire holds what it burns. “I want this to be extra special; the kind of nightmare you’ll never forget. I even made sure one’s gonna interrupt us, sweetheart.” He explains, dragging the blade across your bottom lip. “So, do you still think they’ll try to save you?” 

He’s mocking you.

“O-of course!” You draw ragged breaths, the bitter taste of iron stained on your tongue like a tattoo. “One of them has a flashlight”—you realized it’s best to not divulge who in particular—“S-someone will come for me sooner or later!”

He cups your flushed cheek with his free hand, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. The action brings the insides of your mouth dangerously close to his knife, but he’s careful. Bleed any more and you’ll pass out, and fucking an unconscious body isn’t nearly as fun. “I didn’t take you for such an idiot, sugar.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the finality in his voice.

“How cute.��� He snickers and cocks his head to the side. “You think a flashlight save will be enough? All I gotta do is look down, babe.” Oh, isn’t that whimper precious? Makes him want to rip you apart. “‘Sides, I have No One Escapes Death.” He continues, running the blade along your teeth. “Saving you may as well be a death wish.”

A sob weakly leaves your throat. Beneath his mask, his eyes narrow, having grown impatient with your lack of reaction. Shoving the sharp edge of his knife down your throat may as well incite no reaction, at this point.

“You’re hardly putting up a fight now, sweet thing. Give up already?” He loosens his grip on your neck, urging you to speak. “Or am I just that sexy?” He snickers, pulls the knife from your lips and cants your head with the tip. “Go on, lemme hear you say it. Scream my name, sweets, let them hear you all the way at the exit gates.”

Your breaths hitch—just the reaction he was looking for. His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Give them one last thing to think about before they leave you here.”

“No…” Your complaint is hoarse, hardly above a whisper. They couldn’t have left you, not here, not with him. You told them how scared you are—how frightened he makes you. You told them about the eyes watching you, even when the Entity hasn’t called upon you for a trial. You told them about the photographs littering your room—the ones of you, ones you didn’t take. You told them. They couldn’t have left, they wouldn’t.

“You’re lying…”

“Aw babe, you’re too pretty to be this delusional. Your little friends left a long time ago.” He muses, prodding your thighs apart with the swell of his knee. “It’s just you and me now, sweetheart. The Entity can’t force us out unless you somehow get out of arms, or a few minutes pass and the Entity claims you for itself.” He taps the underside of your chin. “Tell me, how does spending your last few minutes alive with me sound?”

You try to hide the tears swelling over your eyelids, but your bones are weary and your limbs heavy. “Please just let me go…”

Poor thing. He has to strain just to hear you—that’s no good. 

No good for his patience, either.

“Say my name and I’ll think about it, then.” The blade travels lower, slices just below your jugular—shallow enough to draw a thin line of blood, nothing in dire need of medical attention. Not like you could reach your discarded med kit, anyway. “I can’t hear you princess. Go on, I said. Say. My. Name.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust just above your collar bone. His mouth closes in next to their ear, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your will snaps.

“Danny!”

The name feels foreign, forbidden, on your tongue.

“Mm, haha…” He’s caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting that, no. A ‘Ghostface’ or even ‘Ghostie’ would’ve made his cock happy, but this… this is unexpected. This is new.

He’s pitying you now, you can still hear the mock in his tone when he speaks. “What a shameless little whore. When’d you learn my name? Who told you?” His voice is playful, and something tells you he doesn’t mind why you know, but rather why you blew your cover. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen. Another nerve’s been struck.

He’s losing breath fast beneath his mask. His heart’s beating so fast—this rush, this thrill is exhilarating. You’re exhilarating, you’re as insane as him. 

“Do your pals know how wet I make you? Do you jack off when no one’s looking?” You can’t hide it anymore, the shame and guilt and frustration on your face. He can practically feel the heat— the sexual frustration—rolling from your skin in waves. His cock twitches against his robes, his breaths quick and rugged against your face. “Huh? Do you jack off to me, sweets? Is that why you haven’t fought back this entire time?”

You don’t have an answer anymore.

“Keep making that face, sweets.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “I like it when you’re flustered.”

Your thighs clench, desperate for friction against your cunt—his voice, his voice is what did this. And now he’s using it again you; god you’re such a fucking idiot. 

His hand leaves your neck, travels up to your parted lips. He’s hardly surprised when your jaw immediately slackens to accommodate his fingers, dirty leather immediately tainting your tongue. You don’t flinch at the taste; even dirt is above the depths you’ve fallen to.

“Wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.” He mindlessly asks, sliding his fingers over the dull buds of your tongue. “Wonder if your cunt’s as dirty as your mind. Do you go around fucking the other survivors too? The other killers?”

Your draw a sharp breath and change the topic. “I-I’ll do anything, just don’t…don’t tell anyone.” Your suggestions are hardly convincing. In this realm, what else do you have to your name besides your tight little body?

“Mm…anything?” He’s been patient enough with you. “Then beg, princess.”

You hesitate. Begging’s a small price to pay for your freedom; you’ve already fallen so low, what’s a little more?

Your lips don’t move like you want them to.

“Go on, tell me I’m the worst.” He sighs blissfully and pulls his hand from your lips. The shifting of fabric meets your ears; you don’t have to look down to know he’s started palming his erection. Your eyes stay pinned to the holes in his mask, desperately hanging onto what dignity you have left. “Tell me you hate me.” He moans, pressing his knee against your cunt. “I get off on it, princess.”

You’re wet. You wish the shame were enough to kill you right then.

“Just stop thinking, let me fuck you silly just like you wanted.” The knife hardly misses your stomach when he slices downwards, tearing the front of your shirt and leggings. The thin fabrics uselessly falls to the floor—and he takes every opportunity to eye you up and down. The feeling of his eyes on your skin is disgusting, but calling for help is useless by this point. No one will hear, no one will come. Not for someone like you.

“Don’t complain if I leave your pussy bleeding, sweets.” He strokes your dirtied, tear-stained cheeks. You don’t pull away, anymore. “You begged for this.”

You’re a sinner and you’re already in hell.

dear-yandere 2019-2020, all rights reserved.

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (5)

A/N: I’m sorry for this being late, and thank y’all for being okay with that and not wanting to kill me. Come chat to me about this chapter after you read! I wanna hear what y’all think.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, some ass slappin’, lots of cursing, bad attitudes... So, the usual.

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre swore that you were full of shit when you said you wouldn’t fuck him again. But, it’d been two weeks since that little rendezvous in the bathroom and you hadn’t so much as looked at him since. In fact, you stopped showing up whenever the boys hung out which was a red flag all on its own. 

Each night that he inevitably ended up going home alone, he passed Charlie’s door wondering if you were in there with him, tangled in the sheets, faking another orgasm. His mind wandered to you and the sounds you made as he fucked you. How sweet they were and how clear it was that you didn’t have to fake with him. Admittedly, he thought about that a bit too much and he wondered if you thought about it too. He hoped you did. The idea of that night living rent free in your head was too good not to fantasize about.  

After a weekend of away games, Pierre returned home on Sunday night and found himself slowing as he passed Charlie’s door once again.

His dogs greeted him as he entered the apartment and he fed them before slipping down the hall to wash the weekend away in his own shower. Again, his mind wandered to thoughts of you as he massaged shampoo and conditioner into his scalp. And, despite his growing erection, he tried to drown the thoughts with the suds until, finally, he had to make the water temperature colder to shock it out of his system. 

When he finally stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist to continue through his routine. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when an unusual sound floated through his apartment. He peaked out the door to check if it was the dogs, but they were both already laying in bed waiting for him. He turned the faucet off and stood still. 

“Pierre, fuck.”

His eyes went wide and he listened to the moans as reality crashed over him. He couldn’t believe it. You’d been so cocky, so clear that this would never happen again, but it was your voice that he heard moaning his name through the vents of his apartment building. 

Check mate.

---

You truly didn’t want Charlie past the sex, but still you stayed in bed with him overnight and snuck out in the early morning. You never planned on it, and you really never cared for it to happen, but it always did. The moment his arms wound around you and tugged you against his chest, you were done for simply because it filled a void. It’d been a long time since you’d been held intimately in a way that didn’t involve your legs being wide open. So, you just let it happen.

You knew you had to draw the line, though. Because why would you settled for post-sex cuddles when you could hardly stand the guy? Why did you stay over when you found yourself sneaking off to his bathroom to finger yourself to the thought of his neighbor fucking you over a bathroom sink?

You couldn’t believe you actually stooped that low and you were thankful Charlie didn’t wake up to hear Pierre’s name fall from your lips. It was a shock even to yourself when you said it because in the two weeks since the bathroom, you hadn’t thought about it. Then again, you were avoiding the topic completely and now you were just a wall apart from him.

You didn’t stop yourself after you said it, though. You let your mind wander to the way his hands felt on your skin and the dirty words he grunted in your ear, and the way you felt with his cum dripping down your thighs. After your orgasm subsided and you came crashing down to Earth, you realized that even the thought of Pierre could make you cum when Charlie couldn’t at all.

When you slipped from Charlie’s apartment that morning, you were determined to put it behind you once again. But then you ran into Pierre in the elevator. Again. 

You felt your stomach plummet at the sight of him.

“Morning,” he greeted as you entered and hit the lobby button that was already illuminated. He gave you the once over, eyes fixed on the men's sweatshirt draped over your body. He repeated, “Good morning.” “It’s too early for you to be smiling at me like that. What do you want?”

“I knew these walls are paper thin, but apparently so are the vents,” he murmured. Your body ran cold. “Next time you find yourself having to sneak off to his bathroom to get yourself off to the thought of me, just come next door. I can take care of you, you know that.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m offering.”

“Pierre, just drop it,” you grumbled, fingers pressing the bridge of your nose as if to relieve a headache before it even came on. You looked back up at him when you were met with silence and glared. “Don’t you ever fantasize about shit you shouldn’t? It’s not a big deal.”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘p’. “And if you’re referring to us having sex in a bar bathroom, I haven’t thought about it even for a minute. Until I heard you moaning my name and I thought, ‘I should be a good friend and offer her my services again’.”

“We’re not friends.”

“No, we’re not,” he spoke. “I’ll correct myself.” He faced you, all cocky and smiling, shoulder leaned up against the wall beside you. “If she can’t stop thinking about my cock, I might as well offer her my services again.”

The elevator dinged, signaling that it’d reached the lobby, and Pierre stepped away.

“I already told you it’s never going to happen again.”

“Let me know when you change your mind.” 

---

“Hands off!” you yelped as soon as you turned into the kitchen. Seth and Josh were standing at the counter, fingers picking at the meal you’d been slaving over for the last hour. You shooed them away with the dish towel that was resting over your shoulder and they jumped away, giggling. “You two are awful.”

“We’re starving, YN.”

“And you won’t be in about fifteen minutes,” you said. “Now, move.”

Seth made himself scarce with one more lunge towards the food and though you whacked him with the towel once more, he still got away with another string bean.

“Thanks for making dinner,” Josh said, leaning back against the counter as you shuffled about the kitchen with more seasonings. “The boys were all out of groceries, me included.”

“Well, you’re leaving for a roadie, so I was honestly kind of expecting you all to show up at my door,” you murmured. “Grab some plates for me?”

There was a rhythm to your make-shift team dinners, so he knew where everything went for serving purposes. The boys raiding your kitchen the day before a long road trip was a common occurrence.

Josh started grabbing plates from the cabinet and as soon as they were stacked neatly on the counter, his phone began to ring. He stepped away slightly and answered. Pierre’s voice ripped through the kitchen.

“Yo, do you wanna grab sushi?”

His voice sent a chill down your spine, so you busied yourself with the dishes.

“Oh, sorry, bro,” he murmured. “I just ate at YN’s.”

He groaned loudly and as Josh turned the camera to show you, you flipped it off. He smiled when he saw you, “YLN, spare me a plate, would you?”

“You can starve, Dubois.”

Pierre laughed it off, and Josh spoke to him a few moments more until you signaled for the boys to come in and he said goodbye. They served themselves and shuffled out to the dining room table that was only ever used when they came by. 

When you finally settled down with them at the table, they were already talking over each other, laughing at a story that one of them was telling.

“What are you all laughing about like pre-teen boys?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Boone teased, “It’s about PL.”

You resisted a heavy roll of the eyes.

“You’ve piqued my interest, do tell.”

The sarcasm was evident in your tone but Boone launched into the story regardless of the face it was clear you didn’t care about the story involving Pierre. At least, outwardly. 

“We’re just ragging on him, taking bets on whether or not he’s going to get a free show tonight,” Boone laughed. Your blood ran cold and you snapped your head up from where you were looking at your plate. 

“What?” It took everything in you to keep your voice even as you furrowed your brows, attempting to mask the panic in your expression. 

“Apparently the vents at Pierre’s place are as thin as the walls because he heard some girl’s moans coming into his bathroom a few nights ago,” Seth said, speaking through laughter. 

“He said she sounded like she was enjoying herself,” Boone added, only making your jaw clench tighter. Josh snickered to himself, “And he enjoyed himself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, come on, YN,” Seth sighed, like she was stupid or something, but when he saw she was serious, he laughed. “He jerked off after.”

You weren’t sure if you responded to that revelation, maybe a soft ‘oh’ before one of the other guys jumped in to comment on it, but you couldn’t remember. It felt like you blacked out the moment it was said.

All week, you were embarrassed that Pierre heard you, and it was made worse when he said he wasn’t also thinking of you. But he was lying, because of course he would be, and now you wanted to kill him for making you feel so… vulnerable. 

---

As soon as everyone was gone, you marched out to your car and began driving in the direction of Charlie’s apartment building. Except this time, you weren’t going to see him. You marched into the building, up to their floor, and all the way to Pierre’s front door. You didn’t hesitate once before knocking at his door, and he didn’t hesitate in pulling it open.

“Why did I know you were going to come over?”

“You fucking lied to me,” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. He took a step back and you followed as you spoke. “You made me think I was crazy.”

“You are.”

“No, fuck you,” you barked. “You were all ‘I don’t think about you’ and ‘You gotta get over it’, but you jerked it to my moans the other night, you asshole.”

“Care to come inside so we don’t alert your boy toy?” 

Pierre stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You glared at him as he locked the front door and headed into the kitchen, assuming you’d just follow him, and of course, you did. He noticed the tupperware in your hand then and smirked.

“You brought me dinner, too, sweetheart?”

“I poisoned it,” you growled, deadpan. He laughed and took the leftovers from your hand to slide them into the fridge before returning to the pulled out stool at the counter. There was a plate resting in front of him with some sushi rolls, and he continued eating happily while you stood in the doorway watching. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You snapped, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him all too contently eating his dinner. 

“What is there to say?”

“What is there to say?” you repeated, voice lowering as you glared fixed on him. His hands faltered as he brought another sushi roll to his lips and you could tell you had him right where you wanted him. “Admit that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about fucking me in the bathroom either.”

He turned on the stool to face you with a look of confidence and threw your words from the elevator right back at you, “Don’t you ever fantasize about shit you shouldn’t? It’s not a big deal. Right, YN?”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a curse his way before turning out of the kitchen to match towards the door. Pierre was hot on your heels, discarding his dinner plate with a clatter in the sink before he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you back to him.

“Be honest about what you want,” he spoke, voice low, eyes dark. His free hand curled around the base of your throat and he nudged your chin up with his thumb. “You want me to fuck you? We don’t have to like each other to fuck, angel.” He paused. “Is that what you want? Say it and we can both get what we want.”

“Pierre.”

“Say the words and I’m yours.”

“Fuck me.”

“Good girl.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, his hands all over your body, and he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you down the hall. Your back hit his mattress moments later, hair fanned out below your head as he kissed your neck, only detaching his lips from your neck as he peeled your shirt from your body and took his with it. He didn’t spend much time on foreplay, both of you already feeling revved up from weeks without touching each other. 

After stripping you of the rest of your clothes, Pierre flipped you onto your stomach and placed his hand on the back of your neck to press you down against the mattress. It trailed along your spine until it finally curled around your hip, the other gripped the other side and he tugged your ass up to pull it flush against the sweats he was wearing. 

Goosebumps rose along your skin beneath his fingertips and he smiled to himself, shaking his head in awe as he admired your naked body in front of him. He was thankful he’d flipped you so you couldn’t see the way he looked at you. It felt like he couldn’t get enough and he desperately didn’t want you to know. 

You wiggled your ass, beckoning him to do something, and his palm came down hard on it. You lurched forward with a filthy moan. 

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed out, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. He ran his knuckles along the mark he left on your ass. 

“You like that?”

You hummed an affirmative sound and he leaned down to leave a trail of kisses from your tailbone to your shoulders. He shuffled behind you and you heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor, then felt him hard against your ass. 

“Spread your legs,” he spoke. You did as you were told and he shifted closer to you, head of his cock brushing along your pussy lips. The sound of a condom wrapper tearing filled the room and he let out a deep breath as he rolled it over his member.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it along your folds. He watched the tension in your back as your muscles constricted and your hands gripped the sheets again in preparation for his entrance. And then, finally, he was sliding into you with a groan. 

It didn’t take long for him to start railing you into the mattress. As he fucked you, he pressed you onto the bed and listened to you moan and scream as you took his cock. When he finally relieved that pressure on your back, you regained your composure enough to roll yourself back onto his cock and match his thrusts with a desperation of your own. His hands gripped your hips tightly as your ass bounced in front of him and he watched with wide eyes, mesmerized. 

“Taking my cock so well, sweetheart,” he praised.

“You fuck me so good.”

“Better than him?” he asked, pounding into you as he awaited your answer. You nodded, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you stifled more moans. His tone of voice held an animosity you’d never heard from him before, but his cock felt so good that the question was forgotten within seconds.

As he approached his orgasm, he curled around you, hand dropping to your clit to help you catch up to him. His thrusts were erratic and uncontrollable, and he huffed onto your breath as he moaned. 

“Come on,” he coached. “Cum with me.”

You chanted his name as he cursed into your skin. Your legs shook as your own orgasm washed over you and when you both finally came down, he eased himself out of you and rolled onto his back. 

There was a long moment of silence. A looooooong moment. And then you sat up and walked off to the bathroom to pee before gathering yourself in the mirror and retrieving your clothes from the floors of his apartment. 

Pierre was sitting at the edge of his bed with boxers on when you emerged from his bathroom. His head shot up at the sound of you re-entering the room and he watched as you approached the side of his bed to grab your clothes.

“Can you stop staring at me?” you snapped as you slipped into your thong. 

He cracked a smile and looked away, shaking his head in disbelief of your quick switch-up in attitude. He muttered, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, and you’re fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, I really am,” he grunted as he stood. “I’ll be in the living room. Let me know when you’re leaving, I’ll lock up after.”

[withoneheadlight]

life has been a bit crazy for me so I haven’t been around but I’m glad to see that the upside down kiss fic is circulating back around bc it lives rent free in my mind constantly and I am whORE KNEE 😩

nsfw! anon

(I hope you’ve seen well I miss u :((( )

NSFW!ANON I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU I MISS YOUUUUUU!!!!! Holy shit this is the nicest surprise!!!!!! 💖💖💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖 Wish your life were at least a bit less crazy :(. Mine's been a bit crazy too. Weird and busy. Haven't been letting me much time for fandom and i miss it so, SO FUCKING much. 

And <3<3<3, haha yep! i’ve got a soft spot for that fic too bc i had so much fun writing it, and it’s even funnier on my mind idk xD. i’m so happy people likes it. Those gifs are like a harringrove inspiration charm i swear! Maybe you’ve already seen it but @warheadache added this amazing ar to it and 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉.

also!! i know it doesn’t look like it but i’ve got a couple things for you on the works and i’m closer to finish them!! at my snail pace but yk, 

a few excerpts bc i want to give them to you so baaaaaadddDDDDDD:

(I'm sure you'll recognize the working titles :P)

| n s f w ahead |

~

| boots |

And it’s been more than three years. More than three years of holes on his body and holes on his veins and stitches and tubes and pills and pain under every scar and unsteady steps and pulling together a pile of dirty rubble. More than one of Steve, Steve, Steve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

Except―

He’s going through his old stuff, one day. Cold outside. Late January. Chill fogging the windows. Daylight pouring to the edges of the sky like red-hot steel on the other side.

Billy’s on the floor. The contents of the two plastic bags collecting dust at the bottom of his closet since he moved in here now scattered all around. Cassettes and crumpled papers and tampered books and stupid memorabilia and. His old tight jeans. His leather jackets. His light-blue denim one, with the blood-red goodbye kiss of somebody whose cheek he remembers touching, whose face he can’t remember anymore.

And Billy doesn’t hear him coming, but one moment he’s not, the next Steve’s crouching by his side, leaning against him, too lightly for it to be in need of balance.

“God, Hargrove” he huffs, picks Billy’s favorite shirt out of the pile “Am I remembering this one right?”

Billy bites in a smile. Swallows down some bitterness.

“You are”

Steve nods, mouth twisting into a grin, a brow rising. Glances down at what Billy’s holding (on to) between his hands.

“And oooh. Those boots”

Still dirty. More dark brownish than black. One of the few things he got back from the hospital. His pendant being the only one he ever put back on.

“Yeah”

“Thinking ‘bout using any of these again?” Steve gives the shirt a light shake, the dark-red fabric dragging on the wooden floor.

Last time Billy wore it, he burned hole in it. A stray ember fell from his joint, right under the left pocket. Tiny enough to pass mostly unseen but―

For a closer look, it was ruined.

Two days later, the Mind-Flyer dragged him into the basement of Brimborn Steel Works.

Billy digs his fingers into the dry leather before they can start shaking.

“I don’t―” Takes in a big gulp of air “―know. Don’t know if they’ll fit anymore” It feels like nothing.

Because, he doesn’t mean only his body. Means it all. Because he’s alivealivealive, like some kind of inevitability. Alive like a form of inertia.

Alive because that’s all he had left. Got’s left. The only thing he could. Can. Do.

But,

But

“Uhmm” Steve exhales. Looks right into his eyes and it feels like he’s looking deeper. And it’s not the first time, not the first time Billy wonders, how much he knows, and how he knows it. Wonders what he might be seeing, what his instinct might be saying for him to―lower down his voice, eat away almost every single one of the scarce millimeters keeping their mouths from touching “Maybe the boots, then” his hair tickling Billy as it falls over his forehead, the feeling of it so intimate it seems illicit “Only, the boots”.

And those words. Those words. Taste like gasoline on Billy’s mouth, make the flame almost catch. Hot. As they feel over the rabbiting pulse of his jugular. Ad there shouldn’t be any empty space left between them when Steve moves even closer, his lips brushing a path of raw tenderness over Billy’s cheek, trailing sideways, air turning flammable and unstable, unbreathable when he says, “You’d look―” Voice hoarse. Shaky. Breath warm down the curve of Billy’s neck. Fingertips burning as a branding mark over his solar plexus “Hot as fuck”

Trading a grenade for Billy’s fast-beating heart.

And then― he’s getting up. Going away. Closing the door behind him. Leaving Billy one pull away from the detonation.

And Billy.

It’s been more than year since he moved. More than a year of SteveSteveSteve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

But Billy wants it, this kind of inevitability. Not inertia. No survival. Not that something living doesn’t really feels like. He wants Steve to release that bomb he just dropped inside of his body. Left Billy unmade. Shape him back together with his own two hands.

So he gets up. Wired-up and breathless. Anticipation beading on the surface of his skin. Thinks about of all those times alive felt like something reachable. That almost-touch sensation. Static singing on his fingertips: loving arms closing around his ocean-cold skin. The rumbling of the sea caught up on the shell of his ribcage. Max's crazy laugh like a hammer to his bones. The Camaro cooking the soles of his feet, speed making his head spin through a wormhole and out into the infinite. His knuckles cracking against the skin of another, finding bone. The metallic tang of blood flooding down the back of his tongue.

Love and fire and rage and―

He takes all his clothes off. They don’t feel like they fit, either. Socks. Sweats. Hoodie. T-Shirt. Takes a deep breath when the pendant bumps against the naked skin of his chest.

Puts his boots on.

Does the only thing he’s ever known.

“Steve!” he shouts. Pulse spiking up fast. Trying to beat a way out of his body “Can you come back in here?”

Skyrocketing, when Steve shouts back.

“Going!”

And then is the door clicking open. Billy’s lungs freezing in the middle of a breath. Steve’s eyes looking almost black as they catch the shadows. Sun falling down the reality of the other side.

And in a darkness like that, it’s only them what remains. Them, and the way they are looking at each other.

And Billy feels alive. Like falling. Feet slippin’ on the razor’s edge.

"Billy" breathes out Steve. Shoulder perched on the frame. Fingers tightening around the handle "Fuck, Billy I―"

“Yeah?”

Alive. Like a form of gravity when―

Steve comes forward. To him. Careful. Careful. Footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. Lashes falling down as his eyes drift. Swallows. Comes closer and closer still.

And then.

Their chest are brushing and their hands are almost touching and it's not even an inch but Billy has to look up even with his stupid boots on and,

“You said―”

Steve breathes in. Cuts Billy’s breath off his lungs.

Between them, there’s no room for anything that’s not the way they’re not touching.

“I know what I said”

The air, sparks, sizzles, becomes the memory of a thunderstorm and. The tips of Steve’s fingers make his hairs stand on end. High voltage. Spark over the inside of his wrist. The faded blue of his veins. And Billy shivers. Feels like that second of stasis before the rupture. Static calm and then― the ocean breaks.

And then Steve says,

“I wanna see it. That fire in you” and his fingers tickle across the hidden tenderness on the inside Billy’s elbow. Nails grazing their way up to his shoulder, detouring to contour the crest of his clavicle, slide down the trough, spreading as they follow the shape of Billy’s neck, thumb fitting into the corner of his lips and “C’mon.” smiling, smiling. Eyes creasing at the sides, lashes catching the few last strings of light. Wicked and sweet and devastating “Show me who’s that Billy Hargrove everybody's been telling me so much about”

~

| stick | tw: object insertion |

It’s thrilling, this secret, depraved game they play. Feels like it's forbidden. Leaves a sweet, honey-thick aftertaste.

And Billy is so. So curious. Can’t stop asking Steve to tell him “How it feels babe. I want to know how good it feels. God you look like it's hitting you just right” and Steve tells him. Steve fucks himself down into whatever thing Billy is holding for him, never touching himself until he’s almost there, wanting to ride that sole sensation right up until the very end. Shivering. Shaking. Breaking a sweat. The words coming ragged out of his open mouth. “Cold” or “Weird” or “Like. Too much–ah. Too much” and “Soft, God, Billy so soft” and–

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

And Billy its so, so curious.

Billy does.

Rails himself for Steve to watch, slicked up with lube and dripping. With a rolling pin. A cucumber. Almost a whole box of wooden colored pencils, stuffed inside his ass one by one. With “ohgodgodgod”  the handle of Steve’s fucking nailed bat. Lets Steve holds whatever thing he chooses for him “C’mon, babe. C’mon. Treat it good. Swallow it as deep as you can. Take it like you would take my cock”

And life in Hawkins gets boring after the first, second, fourth, seventh yearly round. Steve takes that office work. Billy gets a permanent spot in the garage. If he gets real lucky, somebody takes him an interesting car from time to time. But sometimes Steve looks at Billy with dark, liquid eyes. Says “Ok enough”. His voice harsh. Rasped. Losing balance at the edge of what he’s able to restrain himself. Sounding as if he’s jealous of those things jamming the insides if Billy’s ass. Takes out Billy’s been writhing around. Fucks him hard. Fuck him deep. Fucks him so good there are tears in Billy’s eyes by the time he comes. Fallen apart and sobbing.

&

Steve’s driving. One hand on the wheel. One hand on the shift. The cool air of the night coming in shorts through the rolled-down window. On the radio, Ted Nugent’s making his guitar whine, the strings arching into the touch of his fingertips, asking for more more more, ‘Here I come again now baby. Like a dog in heat’

Steve’s long fingers flex over the knob, winter-cold white under reddened knuckles. He shifts from third to fourth with a smooth press and lets go of the clutch, and the Camaro sighs, settles. Steve makes her calm. Steve tames her. Where Billy makes her growl and kick Steve drives her like a lover, whispers to her with all his body I’m gonna fuck you so slow. We got all night, baby. Steve treats her right. Runs those fingers up and down the metallic rod of the shift and Billy gets hard. One second from zero to sixty.

His cock pulses, pulses. Fills up whole. The sudden rush of heat traveling up, up. Presses against the walls of his throat. Billy wants to feel the head of Steve’s cock against his bell. Wants Steve to make him choke on him.

Steve brakes. Clutches. Reduces. The Camaro moans, needy. Steve soothes her, caresses it with a soft brush of his thumb along the speed patter Shh, baby sshhh. Just hold a little bit longer. I promise I will let you come.

Billy feels himself twitch, spit out precum. The inside of his pants feels damp, appetizing. He lets his hips slide, rock.

The knob is real leather. Silver pattern ingrained over black. Seams carefully sew out on the surface as a touch of style.

Billy replaced it a few months ago, the old one too damaged by use. Worn out.

This one curves slightly forward.

It would hit just right.

Steve's eyes are alight, framed in the light reflected from the rearview mirror, a dramatic take out of an old Noir.

Except the brown shines full color. Alive.

Billy puts his hand over Steve’s on the knob, spreads his fingers around his.

Grips him hard.

“Hey, babe. Have you ever thought about it?”

“Mmm? About what?”

“About riding my car”

Steve huffs. Chuckles.

“I am driving your car”

“Yeah” Billy caresses the side of Steve’s hand with his thumb, a lagged reflection of his gesture. Thinks about how pretty Steve’s lips would look around that leather, mouth open wide “Don’t mean it like that”

&

Billy has to take a deep, shaky breath, thinking it's a miracle they ever get as far as they plan, that Steve Harrington's mere existence doesn't make him come just by looking at him.

Not all their games get to the finish line. But this, God, Billy wants this one to.

"Ah-ah" he shakes his head, smirks, keeps the stakes high "But if you hop on I'll let you eat my mouth"

“Mmmm. I don’t know”

Steve twists his lips, considering, looks like he’s willing to take his sweet time deciding, staying just like this, idly rocking on his lap, keeping Billy hooked in this scarce feeling, this almost kissing between their cocks.

And Billy––Uff. Billy it’s too revved-up, can’t take it any fucking second more.

Grabs Steve’s asscheeks. Lifts him up.

“Billy what the—ohfuck” It doesn't go in. ‘Course it doesn’t. When Billy lets Steve’s weight drop just a slight bit. It bumps. Slips. Wet and obscene. Rips a breathless thing of a sound out of his throat. But then Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. Bracing himself so Billy can take a hold of it, line himself up. And then yeah yeah. He barely has to rub the head against Steve’s slippery hole and his cock slides in. Eaaasy. All the way. Into Steve’s warmth. Tight. Tight. Tight. And–

“Ohfuck. OhfuckOh”

The air coming in from the window is cool, bristling, but it feels like nothing when Steve lets out a chocked cry. Fucks himself. Fast. Rough. Face buried into the crook of Billy’s neck. Breath blooming hot, hot. Teeth on his pulse.

“Shhhh, baby, shhh” Billy takes his face between his hands, pushes him carefully backwards. Waits ‘till Steve’s eyes slowly find focus on his, still rocking, still― “Hey. You gotta stop. You hear me?” Steve takes a deep breath, exhales long and shaky. It takes all of him to slow down, Billy knows, but he does. Thighs twitching. Cock weeping. Smearing over Billy’s belly where his t-shit has hitched up.

Billy brushes his hair back from his forehead. Tangled and damp and gorgeous.

Kisses him light and sweet.

“We’re close, baby. We’re really, really close. But you gotta stop so I can open you up real good ok?”

Steve nods, eyes glossy, lips bitten and Billy feels overwhelmed, feels like burning under the hard sun. They’re both hanging by the thinnest of threads, Billy can feel it, can see it in the blown-out dark of Steve’s eyes. They’re riding pleasure at point break, time holding its breath for them. This is his favorite part of the game. A little too much, just a little too much. ‘Till one of them loses it. ‘Till one of them melts on the other’s hands. Hard and thick.

And God, Billy has never been one not to push his luck.

He takes two fingers up to Steve’s lips, runs the tips over the tender skin inside. Thinks about how they don’t look bitten enough, swollen enough. About how he’s gonna have to fix that.

“I’m gonna put these two inside. Will you get them ready for me?” Steve’s Smile twitches up, canines showing. It’s a two-men-con. But they play as much against the other as they play together. So Steve swallows both fingers. All the way in one go. Eyes falling shut. Eats them wet and messy. Deepthroats. Rumbles. Ass clenching, pulsing around Billy’s cock. And Billy is only a short breath of self-control away from spending himself inside him like a fucking rookie.

It’s boring, small-town life, really. Except–

“Good boy,” he says, making his fingers pop out of Steve’s mouth, satisfaction tastier than honey at the mean glare it grants him. But it softens, that glare, Steve’s eyelids flutter, open-mouthed and blissed, when Billy brushes the head of his cock with his knuckles, haft teasing, half relieving, keeping Steve in the tightrope with him.

“I’m getting a bit impatient in here, Hargrove” he says, only managing to make his voice sound half annoyed about it. Bit Billy is too, impatient. So drags his fingers down, pads tracing the taut shape of Steve’s cock, his balls, and down. Presses. Softly. Rubs the stretched-out flesh of his hole. Dips just the tips. Press. Press. And–

“AhfuckBilly–Ah.Mmmmh”

It’s tight. Steve’s ass clenches around him, squeezes him in. It’s a heady feeling, having him like this, senses overrunning. He’s intoxicated. High on the painful scratch of Steve’s nails when he grabs his jaw to kiss him open-mouthed and harsh. The helpless way he chokes off a sob when Billy makes his fingers curl, rubs him good and,

“I’m ready, Billy. I’m ready. BillyBillyplease. I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. I’m ready” he’s gasping, breathless, barely taking in the heated up air they share.

“Hey. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little more, ok?. A little more and I’ll let you swallow it all in. That knob. All the way down your ass. No space left for anything else" he licks the words all along Steve’s neck, his ear. Rubs his lips over the damp roots of his hair. Cock pushing. Fingers working. When Steve sits on the stick. Billy wants him right over the edge “Gonna cum so hard you’re gonna be begging me to let you ride her again”

~

yup! hope you like them! i really really REALLY want to finish them for you.

Fingers crossed I get to see you again soon my dear nsfw!anon 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Trois:

Chapter One. 

The leading lady will be introduced eventually but I feel like with the way this is written I need to focus on Adonis and Erik first. 

Warnings: AU!Erik, AU!Adonis, smut, bisexual, mentions of blood, threesome.

The 2019 Comic Con at the Los Angeles Convention Center was populous to say the least. Adonis Johnson felt like he was elbow-to-elbow with the animated and roused crowd of event goers. Everyone is grouped like teenagers in those cheesy high school flicks. You have your Nerds—never worried about being challenged to prove their knowledge about the gaming character or superhero on the shirt they're wearing, yelling out quotes in a spirit of shared fandom. Then, you have your cos players—rehearsed smiles on their faces whenever they are stopped to have their picture taken, sort of deteriorating and looking less magnificent as the day goes on due to wig issues, broken weapons, or itchy and hot costumes. Then, there are those individuals like Adonis who endure the hectic universe. 

Adonis is wearing a faded orange muscle tee with a mixture of his favorite anime characters such as Saitama, Goku, Sasuke, L, Yusuke Urameshi, and Spike Spiegel. He styled the tee with a pair of Nike Dri-FIT Basketball shorts in black, black Jordan socks, and a pair of orange and black Air Jordan 1’s on his feet. He couldn’t forget his layered silver chains and finger rings to make it more stylish, or his charcoal black Coach backpack to carry his essentials like the sun screen he needed and some water from standing in that long ass line in the blazing afternoon sun. The cast of Zombieland: Double Tap will be there, and over 800 exhibitors. Adonis didn’t even know where to start or end and at first he figured the map in his hand that he grabbed at the entrance was a great idea but he tossed it in the closest receptacle. 

Adonis scratched at the steri-strip on the corner of his pouty bottom lip since the regular stitches were removed by his doctor almost 48 hours ago. Adonis earned that busted lip from a fight he triumphed in. He didn’t get that wound from the type of fights you see on paper view—he’s an Underground Boxer who participates in Street fighting. Yes, Adonis fights in ‘unlicensed’ matches. This means it operates outside the governing bodies of the sport and is susceptible to rules being broken and fights being fixed. It is illegal in many countries because it is dangerous and disruptive to daily life—running the possibility of being charged with several crimes especially. It’s Adonis’ personal fight club, a badge of honor for him. 

Adonis was introduced to the idea of a fight club by a childhood buddy of his that died five years ago. His name was Clark Wilson. Adonis and Clark used to be in Juvie together—two angry kids who used their fists because of the violence and hatred surrounding them. When Adonis’ father, famous Boxer named Apollo Creed’s wife Mary Anne came looking for Adonis while he was in Juvie, she took him in as her own son and started him out in therapy and anger management groups. For the most part, Adonis felt as if his anger was suppressed but he missed the way fighting made him feel——alive. First, Adonis had to understand the reasoning of a Fight Club. Fight Club is about releasing his anger and stress; about fighting his problems; about going against normalcy and the safe little bubble he has become accustomed to living in. 

Rules were put in place and Adonis found a private property hidden from the public eye so that the authorities can’t interfere. Adonis uses a basement of a record shop for his Fight Club location. If someone would die in Fight Club, there isn’t anything anyone could do. There has only been one case where someone died in Adonis’ Fight Club and he swore to make sure it didn’t become deadly. Brutal, yes, but no murder. Pinching the steri-strip on his lip to keep it in place, Adonis visits an exhibitor—Comic Madness. Pulling out his iPhone so he could use his Apple Pay, Adonis sifts through the comic books to find the ones he wanted. The price tag on them was a bit much but this was a once a year weekend event so he could break the bank. 

Entrepreneur of a fitness company called Elite Body Edge, Erik Stevens strolls through Comic Con after checking out the Hellboy cast members doing a Q&A. Stylish per usual, dangling gold cross earring in his right ear, yellow and black camouflage cargos on, all-white creaseless Nike Air Force 1s, and a lax graphic tee with The Lost Boys on it, Erik pans his Canon PowerShot G7X Mark lll Camera around him, Vlogging his Comic Con experience for his YouTuber’s. When he’s not recording fitness and nutrition videos, Erik is vlogging about his daily life or giving advice to the anonymous subscribers who send him emails. He wanted to edit the video to look like a VHS video for a different aesthetic. Erik strolls past a group of cos players dressed as The Avengers and stops to record them, smiling at the enthusiasm and flashing his gold canines. 

Erik sips from his souvenir cup, the straw making an annoying suctioning noise since it was nearly empty. Shaking the cup, ice chips clanking around, Erik stops to get some more footage. Just when he was about to end his vlogging, there was a rather sexy, good-looking dude with chestnut eyes, amber skin so smooth and velvety looking. The muscle tee he was sporting didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Clearly, he’s lean, and chiseled. Erik haltingly lowers his camera, his inky black eyes trailing over this mystery guys frame with enthrallment. Just when Erik thought he would be coming to Comic Con for some fanboy fun, he spotted a distraction with a nice ass. Erik is a bi-sexual man. Friends jokingly called Erik a hoe that got off on pussy or dick—a reckless hoe that played with fire. Married couples, closet homosexuals, threesomes with women, anything that caused mayhem and wreckage with relationships. Anything to get his thick dick wet. 

Erik’s Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck and his lips parted. When the mystery guy turned around Erik grunted deeply. Lips so thick and plump. Oooh. His breath became ragged and he felt himself swelling. Why did this have to happen to him right now? Donnie must have felt Erik’s hard eyes burning into the back of his skull because he looked back over his shoulder at him with a raised brow and obvious annoyance. The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled with suspicion. Erik found it comical, giving Adonis a sly half smirk when their eyes connected. Adonis shook out his shoulders, focusing back on the stacks of comic books in front of him. Why is his heart skipping a beat and his stomach in knots? The back of his neck prickled and he glanced over at Erik again before he cocked his head to the side. The devilish smirk on Erik’s face sparked Adonis’ short temper. 

Thinking back to his anger management tips, Adonis tried to take a timeout by using “I” statements—to stay in control. Think before you speak, don’t make assumptions, calm yourself. As much as he wanted those methods to work, Erik’s smiling, smug face bothered Adonis. Who is this random ass nigga and why the fuck is he smiling like there’s a joke? Adonis started to feel more and more uneasy about Erik staring at him. Does he know about the Fight Club? That seemed to invigorate Adonis’ irritation because he began charging through a group of cos players and walked right up to Erik with his pectoral muscles puffed out and his hands in fists so tight he could feel the aftershocks from his fight almost two days ago. Erik stood his ground with a single brow raised, waiting for Adonis to cause a scene. As soon as Adonis crowded his personal space that was already so little with how many people surrounded them, Erik made it his business to allow his inky black eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch and back up swiftly. 

“The fuck is your problem staring at me, nigga?” Adonis spoke with a harsh whisper that caused his jaw muscles to clench, “You know me or something?” Adonis paused before he nodded his head slowly, “Let me guess...you wanna fight me?”

“Fight you?” Erik’s eyes become slits, “Why would I want to fight somebody I don’t even know?”

“Well, then you must have heard about me…” Adonis says with a questioning tone. Erik licks his lips and with no regard allows his piercing eyes to memorize the shape of Adonis’ mouth. Adonis couldn’t fight the urge to do the same. He’s turned on. Just as the tension between the two of them reaches a fever pitch, Adonis steps away before he could even realize what he was doing. Adonis didn’t even know he had been holding his breath until he drew in a shaky tone. He’s noticeably quieter now, his aggression tampered. He knew his bewilderment was written across his face. Adonis squared his shoulders and shook out his limbs as if Erik had a bind on him. 

“You good, fighter?” Erik asks sarcastically, “You’re a boxer? I can tell by your reflexes. For a second I thought you were gonna try and knock me out,” Erik smiled. Adonis swallows a hefty amount of spit to calm the tingling sensation in his abdomen. 

“Yeah...I box...underground,” Adonis clarified, “Been doing it for seven years now.”

“Ahh, dirty boxing, I see,” Erik strokes his goatee, “how does one get into that shit anyway? I’m interested.” 

“You don’t choose it like you choose your next meal..you gotta be initiated in...they like to weed out the weak ones…” 

“That hardcore?” Erik took a few steps towards Adonis.

“Hell yeah,” Adonis stares at Erik’s feet as if he were overstepping, “I can tell you more about it if you’re serious.” 

“As long as it’s from the pro himself I’m all ears.” 

This foreign feeling that washed over Adonis’ body was something he felt before when he questioned whether or not he wanted a man to suck his dick. He looks back at Erik just as he smiles and Adonis rolled his eyes away slightly. What the fuck is happening right now? 

“I don’t even know your name, bro,” Adonis held out his hand to give Erik dabs, “I’m Adonis.”

“Erik,” He raised his hand to shake Adonis’. He didn’t want to linger too long but the feeling of his calloused palm teased his hand and it made him want to stroke it. When Erik let go, he allowed his fingertips to brush across the center of Adonis’ palm and that little touch caused Adonis’ biceps to flex. Good to see him react. 

“you gotta be serious...this shit is...it’s rough,” Adonis cleared his throat, “Ain’t the place to really discuss this—“

“Nah, I’m cool,” Erik says with a chuckle—a teasing grin on his face and his eyes now following the definition of Adonis’ arms. Adonis didn’t like Erik staring at him so openly. Maybe Erik got the wrong vibe from Adonis—believing him to be a possible fuck he could conquer after this crowded event, “I’ll stick to boxing in my gym. This underground shit sounds like some kind of deadly contract.” 

“It’s not for everybody,” Adonis says with a smirk, “But if you change your mind, how do I reach you? I usually don’t recruit fighters out in the open like this.”

“Here you go,” Erik pulls out his black leather wallet, retrieving a business card before handing it over to Adonis. It’s a black business card with a gold metallic painted edge for his fitness club Elite Body Edge. The business card is twice as thick as standard cards, since they are printed on 32 pt. uncoated cardstock, offering a superb heft and feel everyone will notice. Erik’s contact information is at the bottom of the card. 

“I’ve heard of this fitness club, all good things too, I’ll keep in touch if you’re ever interested.”

“I’d like to come and watch the fights at least...is that cool?” 

Adonis ponders for a bit, “We have people come and watch but it’s mainly members…”

Erik notices Adonis’ hesitation, backing away a little, “Listen, you hardly know me, I don’t want to intrude on your little secret society. However, you have my card, you can stop by the gym anytime. We have boxing equipment that you can use too.”

“Aight...cool...I’ll come and check it out,” Adonis pockets the card, “Nice to meet you, Erik, sorry for the way I came off at you earlier, my anger can be a bit out of control,” Adonis lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“A bit? I get this vibe that it’s more than just a bit,” Erik turns to leave, “Don’t hesitate to stop by and get a good work out in! Enjoy the rest of your time here at Comic Con.”

“Will do,” Adonis salutes Erik before turning away and disappearing into the sea of people.

________________________________________________________

Elite Body Edge is designed with the purpose of building strong foundations by balancing flexibility, mobility, strength, conditioning and nutrition as well as giving you the perfect sculpt to turn heads; because a strong and sculpted foundation makes a power house. With an arsenal of knowledge, from competition preparation to rehabilitation to strength and conditioning, Elite Body Edge can design a program for any body habitus to achieve any fitness goal. They offer one-on-one training, group sessions and accountability programs to best fit your needs. Why train with Elite Body Edge? No contracts with affordable month-to-month membership, a safe environment to learn proper technique from experienced trainers, a flexible schedule with a variety of group classes to fit your schedule, and an encouraging atmosphere to make working out fun.

Elite Body Edge is a high-end gym experience. Some of the club amenities include, locker rooms complete with sauna and massage chairs, rooftop deck, group fitness classes, premium strength and cardio equipment including LifeFitness, HammerStrength, Precor, and Star Trac, and an amazing aquatic area for swim-fitness. Some of the classes include Restorative Yoga, H.E.A.T Camp, TRX, Feel Fit Naked, Boxing, Self defense, Spin, H.I.I.T, Yogalates, Circuit Burn, and many more. It’s located at 8053 Beverly Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA. It’s striking architecture was designed by National Design Award winner Ian Jackson of Studio Sofield. It’s 30-foot video wall for virtual-reality cycle classes is exceedingly popular, and it’s soaring 25-foot ceilings supported by illuminated linear columns and over 40,000 square feet of state-of-the-art equipment, Elite Body Edge is a modern-day escape straight out of a sci-fi film. 

Erik is no stranger to the gym. Over the years he has received multiple certifications in performance enhancement, TRX Suspension and is a EliteFirst Certified Level 1 trainer, which he has employed as a strength and conditioning coach for the nationally recognized Fremont High School Basketball Team which has produced multiple athletes in the NBA. He supports the youth and employs them to stay active and live a healthy lifestyle. The fitness mogul himself was wrapping up a TRX tactical training course. Most of the occupants are military trained or athletes and with Erik’s skills it can keep them performing at the highest level. Sweaty, heart rate spiked, muscles fueled, and a round of applause, Erik puts up one hand with a black training glove to settle the cheers from his hard working pupils. 

“Nah, y’all should be clapping for yourselves,” Erik wipes sweat from the tip of his nose, “You guys did an amazing job today. The shit is tough but I see improvement and progress. We’ll meet at the same time next Wednesday. Remember, get some rest, stay hydrated, and eat a well balanced diet.”

Everyone gathered their things and exited the class. Erik grabs some cleaning solution and a few disposable cloths to wipe down the equipment. Gym playlist on, you wouldn’t be able to keep Erik’s energy down for one second. He’s so amped up that he could go for another training session; work on his hamstrings and calves some more. Satisfied with his cleaning, Erik exits the classroom, the double glass doors closing behind him. The energetic, hip-hop music pumped up his clients to finish their workout sessions. The air circulating the gym masked the usual odor that comes with sweating and his gym staff are very vigilant on keeping the place tidy. His staff wears black workout gear from head to toe with the gym logo on the front. 

As Erik walks through his gym, checking things out, a familiar face catches his eye. Training on an Everlast Powercore Dual bag with a speed bag attachment is the eye-candy from Comic Con just a week prior. He’s shirtless with a blue Adidas face mask on and fingerless black MMA gloves. His gym shorts hung low on his hips and his feet danced back and forth in his Speed-Flex boxing shoes in time with his fierce punches. Erik wondered when he became a member. He didn’t expect for Adonis to even take up the offer on joining the gym. Smirking, Erik strolls over towards Adonis at the same time as one of Erik’s pilates trainers, Andrea does. Andrea is wearing a black sports bra with the gym logo and black biker shorts. Her sleek platinum blonde pixie cut made her glistening peanut skin pop. Her dark brown eyes held recognition as well as lust. 

“Donnie?” Andrea says with a sultry voice, “I knew that was you,” Andrea popped her hip out, staring Adonis up and down with a big white smile, “How are you?”

Adonis takes off his face mask, those thick lips extra moist from the perspiration on his skin, “Andrea, w’sup? I’m doing good…” Adonis seemed to be thrown off by her presence. From the way he looked at her with his chocolate eyes, they must have had an interesting relationship. Erik took note of the way Adonis sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and Andrea licked her lips and touched his arm with her fingertips. 

“Why don’t you come and see me anymore? We used to have a good ass time...what happened with that? Got tired of me?” Andrea says with a single brow raised.

“I’ve been busy,” Adonis looked away awkwardly, the fresh scar above his right brow catching Andrea’s attention. 

“Busy getting into a brawl? What’s that scar about?” 

“You know me…” Adonis turned away, “Can’t pass up a good fight.”

Andrea didn’t hide her sexual appetite for Adonis from the way her eyes swept over his body, silently telling him how his ripped physique turned her on. Just when she allowed her eyes to drop to Adonis’ crotch, Erik was there next to her, the form-fitting Under Armor short sleeve grey top he wore drenched and molding with his well-built curves straining against the fabric. Two sexy men with twin facial features that made her drool like a love-sick dog. 

“Didn’t think you would show up,” Erik held his hand out to shake Adonis’ hand, “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s dope, I love the set up, I especially enjoy this boxing section...I mean, you have everything I need to help me train.” 

“Where were you training before?” Erik asked.

“Delphi Boxing Academy, but I need more free roam, too many new people to train.” Adonis replies. 

“...so, you know Andrea?” Erik looks over at her, her peanut colored skin immediately turning red and the top row of her teeth chewing on her pouty, pink bottom lip nervously. 

“Yeah, we got history,” Adonis cracks a smile, “Maybe I should catch one of your Pilates classes...watch you do that seated toe touch.” 

Erik arched a single thick brow at Adonis’ words. It wasn’t directed towards him but the seductive way he said that had a pool of desire filling the pit of his stomach. Erik knows exactly how that seated toe touch looked. Seated on the floor, knees drawn towards your chest, feet in the air and toes pointed to the sky, a complete view of a woman’s phat pussy or a man’s hefty bulge straining against the fabric of their stretchy leggings or shorts. Erik enjoys fucking a woman with a malleable body just as much as Adonis does it seems. He wouldn’t mind seeing how malleable Adonis can be.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Andrea gives Adonis one final look up and down before walking away, “my number is still the same.” 

Adonis watches Andrea walk away, “you got a good selection on your staff, bruh.”

“Yup,” Erik agrees, head tilted to the side, dreads shifting across his forehead before he grins, baring his teeth, “gotta have options, a pretty face brings guests, it’s all business.” 

“Well, I admire your business. The dedication and strive to pull something like this together is inspirational. I put my membership in a day ago and was trying to meet with you for a personal tour but your front desk staff said you were out for the day.” Adonis says. 

“Yeah, I’m also a Biological Science Lab Tech two days a week pulling twelve hour shifts.”

“Damn, how the hell do you function?” Adonis says with a shocked voice. 

“You gotta love what you do. You should know, with your own fight club and all, living a double life...working a regular 9-5 during the day I’m guessing?”  Erik says with curious eyes. 

“I’m a Senior Trading Analyst for Smith Boardley Financial Group so, yeah, it’s like living a double life. They don’t ask questions though, which is good.” Adonis’ face shows annoyance as if he didn’t want to talk about his job. Erik senses that maybe Adonis isn’t satisfied with his daytime life, that he feels more free at night and in the ring. He hardly even knew this guy and yet he wanted to know every little detail; ask him questions. He has so many layers to fold back, and besides his reasons behind fighting, Erik hopes to make Adonis admit to his attraction to him. Only thing is, Adonis has to believe it. He’s still uncertain and confused. 

“Why do you fight?”

Silence settles between them for a short while before Adonis finally speaks. 

“Freedom mainly. I want to stop controlling everything and just let go,” Adonis closes his eyes briefly, “if it’s not working out for me...I need to find something that doesn’t...something that doesn’t define me as this perfect dude with a perfect job, and all this fucking money. The things you own end up owning you. The people around you can drag you down. When I fight, I lose control. I’ve been taught at a very young age to bottle up my aggression but all I wanna do is use my hands and to experience some feeling in this numb world...this ‘cocooned society’.” 

“So it’s not about the violence for you? I can understand that. I guess working out is a release for me...that’s an interesting method that I support,” Erik’s eyes scan Adonis’ body, taking a step back so he can blatantly check him out, “I wanna know how this fight club operates...you think I can come watch?” 

Adonis lets go of a laugh, his dimples flashing, “Yeah, man, you can come watch. I’m gonna warn you now though, it can get pretty graphic.”

“Blood? Broken teeth? Nasty scars? That shit don’t phase me,” Erik smiles, allowing his eyes to drop over Adonis’ body. Adonis leans down to grab his water bottle, taking a sip of it and completely avoiding Erik’s unwavering eyes. Why were those eyes making Adonis’ nerves spike up with excitement. It disgruntled him and had Adonis frowning from the feeling. 

“Listen, just don’t be late,” Adonis spoke with finality, placing his face mask back on, “Can’t have people wandering in at the last minute. Come by tomorrow night around 10.” 

Adonis’ change in demeanor has Erik chuckling. He has a habit of wearing his emotions on his face. 

“Will do, bro. Catch you tomorrow...champ,” Erik jeers before leaving Adonis to his training. 

____________________________________________________________

Going Underground Records was Erik’s destination for the late evening. Founded in 2001, Bakersfield's Going Underground Records is Central California's largest and longest running vinyl record store and has recently expanded with a new brick-and-mortar location in Los Angeles. They buy, sell, and trade LPs, 45s, stereo equipment, local concert promotional items (posters, flyers, one-off recordings, etc.) and more. They purchase collections of all sizes, so whether you have a handful, or thousands of records to sell, call or stop by any day of the week. They buy daily and travel to you for large collections. It seems completely deserted from the front but Erik’s instructions from Adonis’ text was to go around back through a basement door. Parking his red Audi R8 across the street, Erik puts out his weed, leaving it in his car. Opening the door, Erik’s left foot hits the wet street. 

Fully out of his car, Erik closes the door, turning to walk across the street towards the record shop. Erik is wearing a camouflage pullover hoodie with black sweats and white Jordan 1’s with a low cut style. Bringing his hood up to cover his freshly twisted locs, Erik saunters down a narrow alleyway before making a left turn ending directly behind the record shop. As soon as he approached the red stainless steel cellar doors, Erik knocks twice, stepping away just in time as a tall, carob-skinned man with a bald head and a single gold hoop earring dressed in a black bomber jacket with a dark purple T-shirt and dark blue denim jeans opens the cellar doors. He looked at Erik in an angry or threatening way, his bug-eyes practically sizing Erik up like he wasn’t welcome. Erik was expressionless, no signs of fear towards this shaq looking man whatsoever, instead, Erik pockets his hands and clears his throat to speak. 

“I’m here for rebellion.” Erik says. He was told to say this at the door from Adonis’ text after the gym yesterday. Erik stopped him before Adonis took off in his matte black Chevy corvette. They exchanged numbers so that Adonis could text him the address and password for entry into the fight club. 

“Why do you seek rebellion?” The man spoke with a voice as hard as the blade of a shovel. 

“Because of this effeminized society that forces me to live a dull and meaningless life,” Erik says with an even tone. 

“Come in, quick,” The man says, “I’m Damion, the owner of this record shop.”

“Erik,” He shook hands with the man before entering the basement of the record shop through the cellar doors. There are metal shelves filled with boxes and janitorial items. Following Damion, Erik could hear hoots and hollers growing louder and louder within the basement. A black drape ahead separated Erik and Damion from the fight club. When the drape was pulled back, the badly lit room with a boxing ring and a crowd of at least thirty people awaited Erik. The shouts and roars are angry and free in Erik’s ears. It smelled like sweat, liquor, weed, and Vaseline mixed with coagulate. 

There, in the middle of the ring with his fists tightly clenched, black boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and left nose bleeding is Adonis himself. What would be his excuse this time when he went to work the next day? Maybe that he tripped and fell face first, bloodying up his nose. He bares his teeth that are just as bloody as his nose, punching his opponent so hard that they fall to the floor of the ring, his head pinched between the floor of the ring and Adonis’ left knee. Adonis kept slamming his fist into the bridge of his opponents nose——a beefy looking white man with ginger hair and a large leprechaun tattoo on his broad back. He did it again and again in flat hard packing sounds you could hear over all the yelling until the ginger-haired man caught enough breath and sprayed blood to say, stop. Just as those words fell from his lips with difficulty, Adonis stands to his full height, fisting the air with triumph. 

“WHO WANTS NEXT? The night is just getting started!!” Adonis yells, voice like a rising storm, “THE RING IS FREE!”

“I’ll take him on!” A random black guy wearing a FedEx uniform says, pointing to a tall blonde-haired alternative-looking white guy with arm tattoos and nails painted black, “He’s been giving me a dirty look all night, let’s see what your hands are like. I had a long fucking day too,” The FedEx worker removed his hat revealing a clean faded haircut with waves, “Lets go!!! Don’t act scared now!!”

The ginger-haired white man was pulled from the ring, a bloody trail from his face following him. Adonis slid between the ropes and hopped out of the ring, walking through the crowded room until he reached a table with a series of water bottles and towels. Adonis grabs a bottle of water to drink, his grip crushing the plastic bottle before he tosses it away. Erik’s attention was brought back to the ring when the black guy kicked the air out of the alternative white guy then landed on him pounding him limp. The white guy clawed his neck for him to stop and that’s when he backed off with a viscous laugh. The blonde took this opportunity to give him a taste of his medicine. His left fist connected with the black guy's face, spit flying from between his full lips. 

Yeah! Yeah! Kick his ass! 

It was like a raging storm in that room. Erik walks further into the room, bumping shoulders accidentally with a wild amped up Al Pacino look alike with slicked back hair and what looked to be a waiter’s uniform on. These men came all the way here from their boring jobs to relieve some tension. Erik took his spot in a corner, his commanding yet piercing eyes scanning the room. He sought out Adonis again, finding him shouting into the ring. Erik was standing under one of only several lights in the after-midnight blackness of a basement full of men. In the ring two new guys are fighting. One of the men has his opponent's arms behind his head in a full nelson and rammed his face into the ring floor until his teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek. He kept going, even when the guy yelled stop. Adonis jumped into the ring, yanking the guy away and earning a right hook to his face. Erik hisses before grabbing his own jaw as if he could feel it. 

“WHAT ARE THE FUCKING RULES, HUH?!” Adonis head butts him, knocking the guy to the floor before looking down on him with vengeful eyes, “WHEN THEY YELL STOP! YOU FUCKING STOP! Get up,” Adonis throws up his fists, “I said get the fuck up!”

Yeah Adonis! Teach him a lesson!

Body glistening from sweat and muscles perfectly sculpted as if they were carved out of limestone, Adonis beats this man down with just his fists, no special combo move like he’s some wrestler. The guy had enough, throwing his hands up in surrender. Adonis smiles with his blood stained teeth. There’s grunting and noise at fight club like at the gym, but fight club isn’t about looking good. There’s hysterical shouting in tongues like at church, except this isn’t a holy sanctuary like your grandmother would drag you to every Sunday morning to praise and worship. Erik briefly wondered who is responsible for mopping up the blood and sweat from the ring floor after all of this is over. Just standing there watching has his adrenaline spiked. Adonis raises his head towards the ceiling before opening his eyes, the low light making the blood on his face glisten. 

His chocolate eyes scanned the room and when they landed on Erik he seemed to freeze with shock but then a knowing smile appeared on his face. Erik returned the same smile bobbing his head in greeting. Adonis left the ring and squeezed through the small crowd of men before finally coming face to face with Erik. Erik’s eyes sparked as they quickly swept Adonis’ drenched body. He had to suck in a quick breath to calm the pulse coming from his dick. All this charged up, aggressive energy is what Erik craves every time he fucks a man. That fighting back before surrendering to him when all his fat dick enters them. Adonis looked like the type to fight back, Erik really wanted to see that for himself. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later. 

“Looks like underground street fights are a new favorite of mines,” Erik chuckled. 

The corners of Adonis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, “Didn’t think you would really show up.”

“I’m not all bark and no bite, bruh. When I say I’m gonna be somewhere, I make it happen. Anyway, I ain’t never seen shit like this so I wasn’t about to pass that up,” Erik’s lashes fluttered and his tongue glided across his bottom lip, his gold slugs twinkling in the low light like diamonds. Adonis’ brows knitted and his eyes fell to Erik’s lips. He caught himself staring and backed away, scratching the tip of his nose and taking a deep breath, his pectorals dancing one at a time. Erik’s eyes flickered with mischief and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I broke the code inviting you here, you know that?” Adonis looks around, “I’m surprised nobody called you out to fight them. When that happens, you have to fight. That’s the rules.” 

“I don’t abide by rules easily,” Erik’s eyes are ablaze but his voice is like melted honey, “And clearly neither do you. I do my own thing. Is there some contract you have to sign to be involved in this shit?”

“First thirty names on the list get in, if you get in, you set up your fight right away, if you want to fight. If not, there are guys that do so maybe you should stay home.” Adonis points to his left brow, “A couple of stitches fixed this, some of these guys leave here with injuries so bad they need a bed in the hospital...It ain’t for everybody.” 

“But yet here they are getting their asses handed to em’,” Erik shakes his head, “Looks like you need a drink.” 

“I do, I was actually headed to the bar around the corner after this,” Adonis lifted a single brow as his eyes peered into Erik’s, “You’re welcome to join me if you want...I can tell you more about the fight club...looks like you’re interested in joining.” 

“Maybe,” Erik surveyed Adonis’ face, “We could get to know each other a little? You know, I feel like you’re a cool dude, wouldn’t mind kickin’ it over drinks.” 

“I don’t see why not,” Adonis gives Erik a quizzical look before backing away, “Meet me at The Spare Room around the corner from here.” 

Erik chuckles as he watches Adonis back away, stroking the length of his beard while he takes in the vibe of Adonis’ body language, “Aight, I’ll be waiting for you at the bar.” 

_____________________________________________________________

“I ordered for you if that’s cool? Whiskey.” 

Adonis is sporting a black and grey Nike zip-up hoodie with matching track pants and black AirMax on his feet. He settles next to Erik at the bar before drumming his fingers nervously on the polished wood of the bar countertop. The bartender serves them two glass tumblers filled with whiskey and a black cocktail straw. Erik removes his straw and drinks straight from the rim of his glass. Adonis stirs the ice in his glass around before taking a hefty sip over the rim as well. 

“What are you going to tell your job tomorrow about that purple bruise under your eye and that bloody nose? You tripped and hit your face against a brick wall?” Erik cracks a smile.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Adonis touches the bruise under his eye, wincing a bit, “That punch was brutal.” 

“I felt that shit myself. Damn, he got your ass good.” 

“And I got his ass right back,” Adonis proclaimed. 

Erik finishes his drink before calling on the bartender for more.

“After a fight I usually get some pussy to calm me down but good pussy is hard to come by these days,” Adonis stretches his back, “I ain’t been in good pussy in a minute…”

Erik’s jaw clenched at the way Adonis said pussy. He glanced over at Adonis, watching him drink from his glass. 

“Shoot Andrea a text, maybe she’ll stop by and give you that pussy you’ve been craving,” Erik motions for 

Adonis to pick up his phone, “The night is still young, ain’t too late to get in that puss...ain’t never too late.”

Adonis arched a single brow at Erik, “...You fuck her?”

“She yours?” Erik twirled his glass while studying his drink.

“Nah, she’s not...but did you hit?”

Erik bites his bottom lip, “Once, around the time I first hired her. She got it.”

“I know, I been it before,” Adonis shakes his head, “You fuck all the women on your staff?” 

“Yeah, if they want this fat dick.” 

Adonis stirred in his seat, “Another round, homie.”

The bartender fills his glass, the liquid sloshing around the only sound between them until the bartender walks away. 

“You mad I dipped into Drea?” Erik asks casually.

“Can’t be mad at that. She’s not mine...remember?” 

“I got this feeling that if she was yours...you would use this bar top to crack my head open,” Erik flashes Adonis a dimpled smile, “That’s if you can though.” 

“You talk like you would want that,” Adonis squinted his eyes. 

“I like aggression,” Erik says with a hushed tone. Adonis looked away, pondering Erik’s words. He couldn’t explain it but the way he said that felt as if he were flirting with him. Adonis pulls his phone out of his pocket at that exact moment to find Andrea’s number. He shoots her a quick you up text before returning to his drink. 

“You from around here,” Adonis asked to clear the growing tension. It only worked a little. 

“South Central. You?” 

“Crenshaw up until the age of twelve, in and out of Juvie until my dad's wife found me…”

“Your mom wasn’t around?” Erik asked.

“She died when I was ten. Never knew my dad until his wife took me in...from there I moved to Tarzana to live in this mansion. My whole life changed. Found out who my pops was too. Apollo Creed.” 

“Shit...you serious?” Erik’s eyebrows disappeared behind his dreads, “Bro...that’s WILD...why didn’t you follow in your father's footsteps?”

“I didn’t want to be known as Apollo Creed’s son and expected to be the next Creed star. I wanted to do my own thing, you know? That pro boxer shit didn’t stroke my curiosity. All the fame, all the attention. Nah, underground street fighting is my thing.”

“I’m sure your old man would be proud either way though, you’re a hot head just like him.” 

Adonis smirks, “That’s what I’ve been told.” 

“I know mine would be proud of me...lost him to the streets back in 92’ when the riots were going on. He was an activist like my momma. He protected me from getting shot on my tricycle. It humbled me...Still got my momma. She moved back to New Orleans two years ago.”

“Those riots were crazy. I’m sorry about your father...shit is tough.” 

Erik sighs, “It is, but it just reminds me of how lucky I am to have him as a father. Made me the man I am today.” 

“Yeah...I got nothing but love for my dad even though I never met him. Took me a while to get here though, it wasn’t a walk in the park. Got siblings I didn’t connect with in the beginning but now we’re tight. Mary Anne...that’s my step-mom’s name, she didn’t have to raise me, could have left me in the system.”

“What was your real mom’s name?”

“Vivica. She was an aspiring model. My dad met her at some Hollywood party. They slept around for a while but then Mary Anne found out so he ended things. My mom got pregnant, kept the pregnancy a secret until she passed from a brain aneurysm. By then my pops was already gone. Mary Anne found out and raised me.”

“Man,” Erik dragged his hand down his face, “This whole conversation turned heavy so quick. Let’s fill up these glasses, we need more liquor.”

“I second that.”

The bartender gladly refilled their glasses. For a little while longer, Erik and Adonis talked, learning more about each other. They argued about their favorite Anime, the best clubs in LA, and other random shit that had them laughing. They had only met about six days ago and they talked like old friends catching up. Adonis asks for a bottle of water since he has to drive. The bartender brings him his bottle at the precise moment that his phone buzzes. Picking up his phone, Adonis unlocks it to find a text with an image attached from Andrea. Opening the text, Adonis’ eyes became stormy with lust and his bottom lip poked out with need. 

“Goddamn,” He muttered. Andrea always knew how to get him worked up. She’s on the floor naked with her legs spread wide in front of her floor mirror, peanut skin glistening from whatever body oil she used and that phat, creamy pussy with all her glistening pink spread open and freshly waxed for him to come play with. He remembers how sweet she tastes. Adonis’ tongue rolled around his teeth before forcing his eyes away, locking the phone and placing it within his pocket. He was about to be all up in that pussy. 

“Andrea?” Erik says with a sly smirk. 

“Yeah...she really miss me,” Adonis retrieves his wallet from his pocket, “I can cover the drinks—“

“It’s already on my tab, bruh. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead and handle your business.” 

“You ain’t have to do that, Erik,” Adonis stands from his stool.”

“Think of it as a victory drink for the champion of underground street fighting,” Erik held up his glass to Adonis before knocking back the rest of the contents. 

“I hope that’s your last drink, your eyes are so fucking low.” 

“It is, I gotta get home, I’m pretty tired,” Erik tells the bartender to close his tab before standing from his seat. He dabs Adonis, bringing him in for a brief bro hug, pulling away so that his cologne wouldn’t have his dick brushing up against his. He didn’t need that to happen so soon. 

“I’ll holla at you, Erik,” Adonis turns to leave the bar. 

Erik watches him exit before short, heated breaths escaped his mouth. Erik signs his receipt before leaving himself. While walking to the car, Erik pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket, scrolling through his messages, and finding the person he was looking for. 

Erik: Still on for tomorrow night with you and hubby?

Jodie: Absolutely💕 we’ll see you tomorrow night! Can’t wait 😘

______________________________________________________________

Andrea has an apartment at the Madison Toluca in North Hollywood, CA. It’s a three bedroom, two bathroom apartment with a black, red, and white color scheme. Adonis arrived shortly after 12:30 AM and knocked on her door. Her All black Yorkipoo—-a mixed breed of a Yorkshire terrier and a poodle, named Cookie was barking at the door when he knocked. Andrea could be heard yelling at Cookie before opening her door. Andrea beamed at Adonis with her big round eyes bewitching and her smile wide and pretty. She was wearing a teal blue Nike sports bra with a pair of black high crotch panties and bare feet. Her platinum blonde pixie cut is wet and slicked back from her shower and her peanut skin still glowed from the oil on her body. 

“I didn’t get a response from you so I didn’t think you would show up,” Andrea stepped to the side to allow Adonis entry, “What made you text me tonight to see if I was up?”

“You know how I get after a fight.”

 Adonis closed the space between them and grabbed the back of Andrea’s neck, tilting her head back enough to have her back bending before his thick tongue slithered up her neck and to her lips for a kiss. Adonis always itched for sex after a fight. His dick on swole and his hands unexcused Adonis cuffed Andrea’s ass, damn near pulling her from the ground. They continued to kiss, suck, and lick all over each other’s mouth to savor the taste. 

“Damn, got my dick heavy right now, girl,” Adonis squeezes Andrea’s ass, “come on, I want that pretty pussy.” 

“Donnie,” Andrea moaned, voice as pure and sweet as if from heaven, “I miss the way you used to fuck me.” 

“Uh-huh?” Adonis lifts Andrea off her feet, wrapping her legs around him, “How I used to fuck you?” 

“So good baby,” Andrea thumbed Adonis’ pouty bottom lip before peppering light kisses along them, “I miss your lips on my pussy too.” 

“I can’t wait to taste it again, is she still nice and creamy?”

“Always, daddy,” Andrea’s body shook with anticipation in his arms, “Damn...I’m shaking.” 

“It’s because you need this just as much as I do.” 

“I miss your big dick stuffing me,” Andrea dragged her kisses down Adonis’ neck. 

“You miss the way daddy used to give it to you?”

“Ooh, yes—“ 

“I’ma tear you up, Drea.” 

Adonis brought Andrea to her bedroom, flopping down with her straddling his lap. Andrea giggles like she always does while Adonis kisses along her neck and tongues her cleavage. Andrea’s breath is coming out shallow and fast. Adonis grabbed her face, making her look at him. 

“Breathe,” Adonis pecked her nose, “This dick ain’t going nowhere,” Adonis smirked, “It’s all for you, girl.”

“This my dick?” Andrea leans back so that she could grab for Adonis’ crotch, “It’s so goddamn thick goddamn baby.”

“I’m tryna make you cream all over it.”

Adonis was in an intense tongue-lock with Andrea while she stroked him through his track pants. She broke the kiss with a trail of spit before lifting from Adonis’ lap and dropping to her knees. A constant hiss escaped her mouth as she fumbled with his track pants. Discovering his waistband, Andrea pulls his pants and briefs down and around his ankles. That fat, long, swinging dick almost hit her in the face. Andrea grabs it before putting it right in her mouth where it belongs. While Andrea Gluck-Glucked Adonis removed his hoodie and the black T-shirt beneath it. 

“I just wanna fuck your face and eat your pussy until you can’t take it anymore,” Adonis tilted his head back, “Drea, fuck.” 

Adonis curses under his breath when Andrea gave his heavy balls some attention before bringing her lips back to that fat tip. Adonis dragged his fingers through her wet, short platinum blonde strands before palming the back of her neck and forcing more dick into her mouth. The loud slurping was something Adonis missed heavily. His hips were practically off of the bed now, lip between his teeth and eyebrows knitted together. 

“I miss this fucking mouth,” Adonis fucked Andrea’s mouth, “Shit, Drea, you still got it girl, this mouth is still a beast.” 

Andrea smirked before stroking his spit covered dick while sucking the tip. She really missed his dick from the way she was eating it up. Adonis wasn’t about to stop her, he simply widened his legs and laid back on his elbows. 

“You finna have a nigga bust,” Adonis’ abdomen flexed, “I needed this so fucking bad, make me bust, girl.” 

The eye contact she was giving him had Adonis balls so full with his tasty cum. 

“Just loving on me,” He says before chewing on his bottom lip, “Mmhmmm,” his eyes closed and his brows pressed together tightly. 

Andrea planted her hands on the bed and started bobbing her head up and down his dick while moving her head in a circular motion. 

“Slow down...yes, yes, like that,” Adonis’ lips parted. 

He could literally feel the corners of the inside of Andrea’s mouth and her tight pouty lips nice and steady on his dick. She manipulated that muscular organ in her mouth to flick back and forth on the base of his dick and his balls each time she went down. 

“Love on my dick, babygirl, Drea I’m about to bust, you ready?” Adonis’ eyes squeezed shut and he completely fell back against the bed, “good girl slurp all that shit up oh my fucking God,” Adonis exploded in Andrea’s mouth damn near making her choke. 

“Get up here,” He says, picking Andrea up and bringing her on the bed. Andrea was on her knees, shaking her slim thick booty in his face, her pussy wide with anticipation. Her cream made a mess of her pussy and it was begging to be licked up. Adonis smacks each ass cheek before giving both of them a nice, appreciative kiss. His lips tickled and they felt so moist against Andrea’s skin. She widened her thighs and arched her back more, practically pushing her pussy into Adonis’ face for him. 

“You shoving this beautiful pussy in my face?”

Andrea nods her head with a bite of her lip. Adonis turns around, laying his head between Andrea’s thighs before wrapping one arm around her waist with the other hand occupied with jerking his fat pole. Andrea sat on his face fully before grinding Adonis’ lips. He leans forward to place his lips on her pussy, serving her tongue with long trails of spit. The wiggle of his wet tongue had her lifting up on her hands, thighs shaking. Adonis takes both of his thumbs, peeling her open.

His damn tongue.

“Ooh, yes, Donnie.” 

Her entire body shivered.

Adonis’ tongue was dripping with spit and warm against her inner folds. He was in the middle of spelling out his name with the tip of his tongue all up and down her slit. With the D Andrea’s body shivered. With the O she started shuddering in breaths of gasping completion. With the two N’s Andrea clawed the bed. The letter I made a shape over her clit at the right angle. After the E He sucked her pussy into his mouth. 

“When you lick me you never miss a spot,” She said with a voice like the harmony of angles. Adonis lapped at her pussy some more in response to her words, “Donnie, please don’t stop, baby...I’m gonna cum, Donnie keep doing that to me.” 

Adonis gave her sloppy suction kisses down to her entrance and back up to her clit, keeping her lips apart so he could really get inside. He repeated and repeated, slurping and sucking and licking and kissing. He went faster and faster and she bucked her hips into his mouth, cries getting louder and louder.

“Mmmm, yes, do it like that,” Andrea said with a sensual voice. 

“How bad do you want to cum?” Adonis said before he slurped on her clit and her labia at the same time, moaning himself feeling his precum wet his fingers.

 “Really bad daddy...I wanna cum so fucking bad from your dirty mouth...make me scream.”

“Fuck. You may be a sweetheart but you a freak for sure.” 

Adonis concentrates on tonguing and sucking all the spots that have Andrea’s hips bucking and her pussy smothering him. 

“Daddy...guess what?” Andrea’s eyes watered and heat crept up her body. 

“Uh-huh, I got that pussy cumming?” Adonis’ words are muffled with the way his lips trailed all over Andrea’s pussy. 

With that Andrea’s body froze as her orgasm washed over her. Remembering how good Adonis ate her pussy wasn’t enough for her. Now she was experiencing it again while sitting on his face. He was going for round two from what it felt like. He kept saying over and over how much he needed her beautiful phat pussy and how he was going to dick her down just like that with her back arched. Andrea was ready to crawl off of him when her second orgasm hit her. She squealed so loud her throat went raw. Satisfied, Adonis resurfaced, his lips and freshly shaved chin glistening from her juicy folds. 

“Come taste how sweet you are.” 

Andrea turns, wrapping her arms around Adonis’ shoulders before licking his lips. She hummed with satisfaction while pulling him down on top of her body. 

“Pussy is gushy baby,” Adonis held all his body weight up on one hand while the other played with Andrea’s folds, “That pussy just needs me in it...I could tell from how your eyes lit up when you saw me… miss the way I bust this tight kitty open...I wanna stick my dick so deep in it.”

Adonis leans down on his elbow to kiss Andrea again while he rubbed her clit. His dick is like a swinging pendulum between his legs right now, desperate and hard for Andrea’s pussy. Adonis has enough of teasing Andrea with how fast his heart beats and how painfully hard he is. Grabbing his dick, mixing the wetness on his fingers from her pussy on his pre-cum laden dick, Adonis lined up with Andrea’s pussy before thrusting in slowly, widening her thighs at the same time. Adonis groaned when he was fully inside, making sure to watch her face so that he could see all of her expressions. 

“Ahhh, yes, that’s it.” 

Adonis’ muscular body was mesmerizing from that angle. He began to roll his hips, working all that girth and length in and out of Andrea. Adonis felt Andrea’s pussy squeeze his dick and it only made him go harder. Adonis pulls Andrea’s sports bra off, her perky breasts with dark brown nipples reminding him of Hershey kisses blessing his eyes. Adonis sucked on each titty while he strokes her pussy. The double sensation has Andrea creamy and the macaroni and cheese sound of her pussy grew louder and louder between them. 

“You taking this dick just like you used to,” Adonis pushes her thighs back, “Fuck all that moaning call me daddy while I’m in it.” 

“Daddy,” Andrea whispered. 

“Look at it Drea,” Adonis whispered back. 

Andrea’s eyes traveled down the length of Adonis’ magnificent body to his long, thick dick spreading her open. She couldn’t put into words how full she felt. 

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Adonis whispered, “This how Erik fucked this pussy?”

Andrea’s eyes flicked up to Adonis’ face quickly. She went red with embarrassment, ragged gasps leaving her mouth. 

“What? Answer the question,” Adonis pushed his dick all the way in. Andrea could feel it tickle her navel. 

“Yessssssss,” Andrea answered with an uneven breath. 

“He fuck this pussy in your bed, Drea?” Adonis’ hips were smacking into the back of her thighs, “What he do, girl?”

“He-he fu-fucked me in my b-bed,” Andrea stuttered. Adonis heard himself grunt at her response. Had he ever gotten off on another man fucking the same chick as him? No. Probably wouldn’t have cared in the past but for some reason, knowing that Erik hit Drea too has him harder than he was seconds ago.

“You call him daddy?” 

“Yes!!! Donnie, baby, it’s so much dick,” Andrea’s face frowned with ecstasy.

“And this pussy is good so you’re getting all this dick, baby,” Adonis reaches up to grab onto Andrea’s headboard and she knows what that means. Andrea held onto his waist with a death grip to prepare herself. Adonis started descending his dick all at once in Andrea’s pussy. No pause, no warning, just nothing but a fat dick with all its length sinking into her drenched pussy fluently. It felt like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore. 

“Donnie, please please please,” Her mouth opened, no words escaping. 

“Did he call you his nasty little girl?” Adonis says with a voice so gruff and guttural. He looked down at his dick working the hell out of Andrea’s pussy. The muscles in his back and arms burned in a good way. He was tearing Andrea up from this angle, “Got me going crazy in this pussy...I needed this pussy.” 

“Daddy, daddy I’m gonna squirt,” Andrea’s toes curled. Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her anymore with the way Adonis was taking her pussy. Andrea trembled while her pussy leaked it’s sweet juices all over his dick. 

“Got that pussy cumming?!! You ain’t answer my question...he calls you his nasty little girl?” 

“No,” she spoke faintly, “He called me his nasty little bitch.” 

Adonis bit down on his lip hard. He pumped her fast a few more times before withdrawing from her tightness, flipping her over and arching her back deep. 

“Nasty little bitch? Huh? You like that name?” Adonis sounded harsh, “Keep that ass up Drea, come on baby...I got something for you.” 

“DADDY!!” Andrea wasn’t prepared for that big surprise just now. Adonis has both of his large hands on her waist while he plowed her. She never had this rough amount of treatment from him. 

“Daddy, shit,” her shoulders fell forward against the bed. High-pitched moans filled the room and her cheeks smacking and ricocheting off of Adonis’ rock hard hips was stinging her flesh. He was hostile and she loved the change. Sure, Adonis’ much gentle side was always just as good but to see him use her body the way he was it had her squirting and she never experienced squirting while having sex with him. She needed more of this. 

“Throw it back, Drea, keep going, baby,” Adonis watched her struggle. It didn’t matter to him, his big dick was nice and wet. 

“Nasty little girl, huh?” 

“Yes,” Her breath was rattled. 

“Come on and make this dick cum.” Adonis grabbed her hips, forcing her back to take all his length. Andrea screamed.

“That’s how you do it, so do it, girl, I’m not showing you again,” Adonis watched her do it right this time with a smirk, “That’s my nasty little girl… take this dick...keep taking this dick.”

“Daddy-“

“Why is this lil’ pussy so fat? Damn,” Adonis felt his nut sack jump, “Look at this beautiful, fat pussy, go ahead and cum Drea, go ahead baby.” 

“Yes, daddy, Unh!!!!!” 

Andrea slows down, Adonis taking over again, giving it to her and moaning the closer he got to cumming. 

“That pretty pussy, fuck, take this nut girl,” Adonis’ words were stuck in his throat the second he let off in her pussy with his thick cum. Thank God she was taking contraceptives because she would be pregnant with all his damn babies with how thick and heavy his load is. Adonis retracted his hips, dick sliding out and his cum dripping from Andrea’s gaping entrance. His dick left a serious imprint with how much wider her slick hole is. 

“Damn,” Andrea’s body turned over, “That was some kind of fucking,” she giggles, wiping sweat from her face, “What’s gotten into you, Donnie? baby, you were wild in this pussy tonight.” 

“Lack of pussy does that to you,” Adonis stood from the bed, stretching out his back muscles. Andrea tilted her head while staring at his dick. 

“Round two?” Andrea begged. 

Adonis sighed, “I need some water first.” 

“How do you know Erik anyway?” 

Adonis shrugged, “Comic Con. It was a random situation. He gave me his business card and that’s how I ended up at his gym.” 

Andrea gave Adonis a playful smile, “Are you mad that I fucked him? It was only once, Adonis.” 

“Nah, I’m not mad,” Adonis gave Andrea a once-over with his chocolate eyes, “But you liked that I brought it up...that pussy was choking my dick.” 

“I did. Maybe we should have a threesome. I would love it if you both fucked me.” 

Adonis felt his chest grow tight from her words. His face twisted up with confusion at the feeling. Was that...anticipation? Nervous excitement? 

“Maybe, you should get on all fours again so I can come back and get some more of that pussy,” Adonis responded before leaving her room to grab them both some water. 

_____________________________________________________________

Parked on a hill on Valley Ridge Ave. in View Park, CA,

Erik pulled out his phone to remind himself of the address. 4515. DVSN- Still Pray for You stopped playing when Erik turned his car off. Air Jordan 3 Retro’s, Khaki cargo pants, white T-shirt, a denim jacket, and layered gold chains was Erik’s outfit for the evening. His dreads are side swept, a few of them falling in his eyes. He slouched slightly in his gait, oozing confidence. The home is an iconic 1930 Spanish Revival with stunning city views, exceptional vintage details, custom modern updates, a large beautiful private yard with a tiered flat grassy area, patio, and an herb garden. Jogging up the steps, Erik knocked on the green door, stepping back before swatting away a moth that lingered near the porch light. 

The door unlocked, Jodie standing before Erik with a glass of red wine in her hand and a long charcoal grey T-shirt dress with a high slit, coffee brown eyes fringed with false lashes and copper skin looking soft and silky. Her lush lips are glossy and her blue-black hair is in a sleek low bun. Erik’s eyes traveled from her toes that are painted a fuchsia pink up her shapely legs, over her poked out hip and up to her heart-shaped face. Sweet notes of apple and apricot wafted from her skin the closer Erik got to her. He leaned down to kiss her glossy lips delicately, his tongue tasting the gloss. Jodie’s oval-shaped pink ombré nail skimmed Erik’s jawline with fascination. 

“Hi,” Jodie said with a pleasant voice. 

“Hey,” Erik whispered back, the suave way he said it causing Jodie to nibble on her lip. 

“Do you want some wine?” Jodie offered. 

“I’ll take some wine,” Erik closes Jodie’s front door, “Where is the party?”

“For now, in the living room.” 

Jodie pointed towards the area in question before walking away with a sway of her extremely thick hips towards the kitchen. Erik found the living room, Jodie’s husband, Vance, seated on the couch, smoking some weed, denim cut-off shorts on, an olive green linen short sleeve button-down shirt with a bandanna print open and revealing his athletic body. The deep brown complexion of his skin looked satiny beneath the living room lights. His chiseled face with sharp cheekbones made him look like a male model and Erik especially loved the nose ring on his broad nose. His full lips smirked at him before taking yet another puff of weed. That fresh fade with glossy waves and perfectly groomed beard has Erik lusting even more. 

Vance spoke with a husky voice, “Erik...glad you came.” 

“Me too...let me hit that.”

Vance shared his weed with Erik. 

“Training TRX on Wednesday next week?” Vance asked. 

“I am. I’m not here to talk about my gym though, you know that,” Erik said, savoring the weed, “I ain’t know you went both ways, Vance.” 

Vance cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’m bisexual. Me and Jodie. We’ve been trying to hook up a threesome with a man for a while and then Jodie said she saw you out a few weeks ago at the Avalon with some dude tonguing him down.”

“A date I met on Tinder, fucked him good that night too,” Erik’s head relaxed against the couch, licking his lips to the memory. 

“I bet you did,” Vance passed the weed, “He takes it well too?”

“He needed to be trained, but I’m good at that..have them coming back for more in no time.” 

“Mm,” Vance’s eyes glossed down to Erik’s crotch where his dick print was visible on his left thigh. Vance shook his head as his breath rushed out. Erik was a big boy. 

“You looking for something?” Erik spoke softly, the sensation of the weed sweeping deeper, “it’s right here,” Erik squeezed his dick, the cargo pants molding around the shape of it, “You want this dick?” Erik’s eyes looked at Vance’s big lips and he just knew those juicy lips would feel fucking fantastic sucking on him. 

“I do, I want that dick.” 

“Put that weed out and come get it, that’s why I’m here right? Get the fuck over here,” Erik takes off his denim jacket, widening his thighs, “That pretty ass mouth you got...I need my dick sucked now…do it slow too.” 

Vance’s hand gripped Erik’s dick through his pants. Erik made it jump against his hand. Vance let out a groan. 

“Come on, boy, my shit is thick right now.” 

Vance went to work on Erik’s pants, pulling them down and around his ankles. He couldn’t wait to satisfy the beautiful massive dick in front of his eyes. Slide that big dick in his hungry mouth and drain his balls. Speaking of balls...they are heavy and soft to the touch. Erik slouched, pulling his T-shirt up to reveal his taut abdomen, defined pectorals, and bulging biceps. His dick was standing up and the veins looked like a work of art on his chocolate pole. 

“From the way you’re looking at it I can tell you’ve been wondering just how big this dick is...right, nigga?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah...it’s here for you and your wife...where is wifey at anyway? Jodie!” Erik called for her.

“I’m here—Ooh,” Jodie sauntered over and placed Erik’s wine on the coffee table. She’s in her purple lace bra and panties set. Jodie dropped to her knees next to Vance. She stared at Erik’s dick in a trance. 

“Let me feel those soft ass lips, Vance,” Erik slapped Vance on the cheek, startling him, “Yeah, you taking too long, baby boy, all this fat dick in front of you. Show your wife how you suck some nut out of the dick.”

“Damn, Erik,” Jodie’s eyes are love-struck. 

Vance gripped Erik’s dick and pumped him nice and steady, making sure to squeeze a little just beneath the tip of his dick so he could watch his pre-cum spill from his slit. Spreading the pre-cum along the sides of Erik’s dick, Vance’s big lips engulfed half of Erik’s dick, bobbing his head while reaching down to gently squeeze his balls. Erik kept his gaze pointed downward, looking from his dick being sucked by Vance and Jodie watching with envious eyes. Jodie has to grab hold of something so she placed her hand over Vance’s erection, his visible erection pressed hard against his denim cut-offs. 

“Two big dicks just for me,” Jodie spoke with excitement. 

“Don’t worry, ma, you’ll have some of this dick in your mouth too, Fuckkkk...yeah, suck that shit...suck that fat dick...oooh, you really wanted this shit, hungry ass nigga...don’t get too greedy your wife need some of that too.”

“Yes I do,” Jodie has Vance’s jeans and briefs down with his dark chocolate dick in her hand, nice and warm. It’s more so long than girthy. She jerked him while watching Vance slurp up Erik. 

“Vance...baby...get that dick,” She whimpered. 

Erik will never get over how good Vance’s lips feel. He thrust his hips, forcing more girth and length into Vance’s greedy mouth. Damn, he can deep throat too. 

“Look at you deep throating this wood, boy. You miss big black dick in your mouth, yeah? Miss a nice pair of heavy balls too? I got a load waiting just for you...all you gotta do is be a good boy…”

Erik’s eyes went so low that his long lashes made them seem like they are closed. Jodie’s hand twisted Vance’s erection and each time Erik’s dick hit the back of Vance’s throat, his dick would jump in Jodie’s hand. She arched her back and brought her lips to Vance’s dick. Jodie wasted no time slurping along Vance’s dick. One look at Jodie’s ass in the air has Erik reaching down, his thick fingers clawing her lace panties and yanking them from her ass in pieces. That action made her lips tighten around Vance’s dick and Vance moaned. 

“How that dick taste Jodie?” Erik asked. 

“Delicious,” She said before slurping Vance up some more. 

“Got that phat ass in the air...I already know that pussy phat with the way it sits in your leggings at the gym…”

“Mmm,” Vance cast his eyes upwards watching as Erik’s toned abdomen is exposed, reaching up to run his hand along the deep ridges of the cut muscle, slurping along his dick. He worked more of Erik into his mouth until his nose touched his trimmed hairs, feeling his length curve down his throat as he took him all the way. 

Jodie was in the middle of gagging on Vance’s dick, her spit staining the carpet the more she tried to swallow him. She reached beneath her, hand finding her creamy pussy before spreading her folds to rub her clit in circles. Erik could hear Jodie’s pussy from his seat on the couch. He groans deep, mouth hanging open from the way Vance was sucking him. He tilts his head to watch Jodie while holding the back of Vance’s head to fuck his throat. 

“FUCK!” Erik let out the curse before gripping Vance’s throat, hips jerking from how purposefully tight Vance’s lips are as his mouth slipped off, “Let Jodie have some.” 

Jodie’s lips popped off of Vance’s dick. Erik gazed at Vance’s dark brown dick. All that dark chocolate. He’s long as fuck too. Ain’t nothing Erik can’t handle down his throat. Too bad tonight was his night to get all the work. Jodie moaned before gripping Erik’s spit covered dick. Her tongue flicked Erik’s dick before she locked eyes with him, batting her false lashes like she’s innocent with all that fat dick in her mouth. 

“Damn, girl, crazy with it,” Erik leaned forward to slap both of Jodie’s cheeks hard, “Got all this hard dick down your pretty little throat...got your Hubby taking off his clothes...you see your wife sucking my dick, Vance? She a dick hungry bitch.” 

Vance is completely naked now. He pumped his long dick while leaning over Erik’s lap to hope for Jodie’s lips to slip off so he could take over again. Jodie lets her throat get fucked, gagging only slightly before fighting it back down, eyes turned up to watch the pleasure on Erik’s face as she feels Erik’s dick stretching out her esophagus. Jodie moans around his length, reveling in the taste of Erik on her tongue.

“Jodie,” Vance calls to her while gently squeezing Erik’s balls, “put his dick in my mouth.”

“You want some more of his hard, thick dick? Here,” Jodie feeds Vance Erik’s dick, “Suck it baby…”

“Husband and wife working together...Jodie...let me see that pussy,” Erik showed her how wide his tongue is. 

Jodie climbed onto the couch, turning with her ass facing Erik before bending over on her knees. Her pussy lips are pushed between her thick thighs. Two slippery lips that he wanted to kiss. 

“Spread your cheeks so I can see all that pink pussy...mmmmm,” Erik hisses, “Pussy creamy as fuck,” Erik licks his fingers before resting them on Jodie’s protruding clit and labia. He loved how smooth and soft she is. It looked like chocolate and from the way she tasted on his fingers it was just as sweet too. 

“Come here,” Erik spoke firmly, slapping Jodie’s ass, “lay on your back and spread your thighs so I can finger fuck you.”

“Unh—“

“I wanna feel how tight this little pussy is.” 

Vance jerks Erik’s dick before slobbering on the tip of his dick, “It’s tight...she’ll grip you.” 

“That’s what I want, right Miss Jodie?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Jodie says with a lick of her lips. 

“There you go, baby boy, suck that fucking dick up, suck daddy’s dick up,” Erik demanded. He could feel his balls grow tight and he knew what that meant. He didn’t want to cum yet, not until he had his dick in Vance’s ass and Jodie’s pussy. 

“Erik,” Jodie called to him with a melodic voice. 

Erik watched her bring her knees to her chest, that pussy wide open and her slippery hole winking at him. Erik couldn’t hold back from rubbing Jodie’s clit back and forth before slapping it, causing her to whimper. Erik smoothed his fingers down her pussy before pushing two fingers inside, biting his lip at the way Jodie gasped. 

“Tight fucking puss,” Erik strokes with a curl of his fingers, “I’m digging baby?”

“Yess,” She cries.

“I hear that pussy,” Vance says with spit hanging from his mouth. 

“Come suck her clit,” Erik commanded. Vance and Erik got down on the floor between Jodie’s thighs. Vance spreads her pussy lips so wide that her labia stretched. Erik was astounded when he saw how much cream spilled from Jodie’s pussy. Vance’s tongue curved at the tip while he teased her big clit. 

“Clit big as fuck, Vance stop playing, suck that shit up. Clit nice and phat like that you better suck it.” 

When Vance’s lips wrapped around Jodie’s clit she moaned to the ceiling. Vance reached up to pull the cups of her bra down, her big, round breasts spilling over, creating a mouthful. Erik damn near drooled. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth while his fingers played all in Jodie’s pussy. Vance was slurping loudly on her pussy and it had Erik slapping Vance’s firm ass. 

“Yeah, nigga,” Erik says, “Got the whole puss in your mouth, make this bitch cum...say, I’ma make this pretty pussy cum.” 

“I’ma make this pretty pussy cum,” Vance says before French kissing Jodie’s clit. 

“I’ma make it squirt,” Erik flicked his tongue on Jodie’s nipple before showing some attention to the other. Jodie gripped his dreads when he went back and forth with sucking her nipples. He had her thrusting her chest into his mouth. 

“Grip me like that again, go ahead, ima put my face in your pussy next,” Erik spoke roughly. 

“Eat my pussy up,” Jodie widened her legs, “There’s plenty...slurp me up daddy.” 

“Nasty bitch, I like you,” Erik was face to face with Vance, “Let me see how that clit fit in my mouth.” 

Vance chuckles before giving Erik some room to eat on Jodie. He helped him by keeping her pussy lips open. Erik was still working his fingers, practically stirring all in Jodie’s creamy cavern. Erik kisses Jodie’s clit, the pecks slowly turning into full blown French kisses that has him opening his mouth wide to wrap his lips around her. 

“Mhm,” Erik’s eyes rolled shut.

“Taste good, yeah?” Vance said while extending his neck to kiss Jodie’s lips, “That’s your pussy on my tongue.”

“Mmm, I taste lovely.” 

Erik spits on Jodie’s clit before working his tongue with so much gusto that Jodie and Vance watched with awe. 

“Ooooh, He’s stroking my pussy with those thick fingers...oooh, I’ma squirt…Vance, baby, he’s gonna make me squirt, baby,” Jodie grabbed for the back of the couch. She became spasmodic and Vance had to hold her down and kiss her lips to distract her so Erik can keep going. That bitch was leaking all in Erik’s mouth. He sucked her up again before tasting his fingers. Vance leaned over Jodie’s lap, getting some of Jodie’s pussy too. 

“Pussy is so goddamn good,” Erik gripped Jodie’s jaw, pressing his lips into hers, “I can’t wait to bust your shit wide open, let’s take this shit to the bed.”

Pulling his lips away, Vance stands with Erik, both of them picking Jodie up. She had her legs wrapped around Erik while Vance stood behind her cupping her titties. Erik bounced Jodie on him like he was fucking her standing. Vance kissed and sucked on her neck at the same time. All three of them took their fun to the bedroom. Jodie grabs some condoms from her dresser, begging to watch Erik fuck Vance first while she rode his face. Vance went to lay on the bed, his knees drawn to his chest. Erik was blessed with the sight of Vance’s tight asshole and heavy balls with his dick resting against his toned abdomen. Jodie climbed on top of Vance’s mouth, turning to give Erik the condom and lube. 

Erik spits on Vance’s asshole before sticking his finger inside. With his free hand, Erik jerks Vance’s long dick 

To keep him solid so he could have something beautiful and chocolate to look at while he banged his ass. Jodie was currently popping her pussy on Vance’s tongue, legs in a squat so her pussy could be nice and spread for him to suck up. It was a beautiful sight. Erik almost wanted to bust from that alone. Staring at Vance’s body now made him think about Adonis. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Adonis. Nice big lips, sexy rock-hard body, aggressive and competitive, sexy smile, chocolate eyes all intense at one minute then gentle the next, the way he fights…

“Erik I love the way your finger feels in my ass.” 

Vance’s words broke him out of his trance.

“Yeah? Ain’t shit compared to this dick, boy,” Erik removes his finger, grabbing up the magnum to place on his dick. Rolling it over his glans all the way down to the root, Erik applies a little bit of lube for some extra slip. Bending his knees, Erik forced Vance’s thighs back before slapping the weight of his dick against his ass, sinking inside of his warm, tight ass. 

“Damn boy...damn...ass tight as fuck,” Erik started grinding his hips, “Feel all that thick dick pumping?” 

Jodie looked over her sweaty shoulder and saw Erik’s fat condom covered dick thrusting in and out of Vance’s ass. She felt chills all over her flesh and the sexy moans against her pussy and groans from Erik made her cream even more. Jodie can see Erik and Vance’s muscles ripple and flex with their movement. Jodie turned around so that she could 69 with Vance, grabbing his long dick up and going straight at it with a bob of her head. Vance clapped her cheeks before eating both of her holes. 

“Fuck, that’s what I’m talking about Jodie, eat that dick up,” Erik pushes her head down further, “There you go, deep throat that shit.”

Vance was working his hips to take all of Erik’s dick, Erik caught that, rolling his hips to meet Vance half-way so that his dick could be all up in his ass. 

“Got this nigga working his hips to get all this wood,” Erik bites his lip, “ass is creaming already too.” 

“Mmm, I wanna see,” Jodie jerks Vance’s dick while admiring her husband's creamy asshole grip Erik’s dick, “Vance...baby...he got you creamy, mmmm, Vance.

Vance moaned into Jodie’s pussy with each suck. 

“That’s it baby, make this pussy cum...oooh I feel you tugging on that clit, make me nut baby,” Jodie’s eyes almost crossed, Oh God...Oh God...fuuuuuuckkkkkkk babyyyyyyyyyyy—“

“Face hella sexy when you bust, girl,” Erik wrapped his arms around Vance’s thighs and started ramming his dick deep, big balls slapping against his ass. Vance’s core tightened and it seemed to shoot straight to his dick because now he’s cumming in Jodie’s hand. Jodie licked as much away as she could but he kept on erupting. It was Erik’s pounding deep in that ass that had him making a big mess. 

“Oh shit, Erik, fuck,” Vance stared between Jodie’s thighs at Erik, “Dick is all up my ass——“

“I’m taking this ass?” 

“Yes, daddy.”

Jodie could not stop looking at Erik’s hard dick fucking Vance so good. Erik leaned over Vance, his naked chest and those gold chains hanging over Vance’s body. His dreads hung low and he bit down on his lip, working his hips fast and skillful. Jodie needed that dick in her pussy. 

“Ima nut again,” Vance’s handsome face crumbled, “Fuck, Erik, ima bust—-“

“Yeah, nigga, I’ma make that dick cum while I beat this ass up good.” 

Jodie cupped her pussy and rubbed it up and down to the sight of Vance shooting out yet another thick load. Erik pulled out and rocked back on his heels, watching the way Vance’s ass quivered. There is a creamy puddle beneath his ass. Erik removes the condom, walking to Jodie’s dresser to grab another. Rolling it over his still hard erection, Erik walks up to Jodie picking her up and wrapping her legs around him. Erik sits back on the bed, Jodie over him with his hands cradling her ass.

“It’s time to get in you now...nothing but dick deep in your guts…”

Vance stood up from the bed and jerked his dick watching Jodie grab Erik’s dick herself, squatting over his dick before lowering her hips, that thick dick nothing but a flesh covered pole for her to fuck. Jodie was up on her feet, upper body bending over so she could bounce her hips. Her ass cheeks clapped with each bounce while she fed her pussy some dick. Vance went to lay next to Erik so that he could have a better look at his wife handling Erik’s dick. 

“You see that sexy little pussy taking all this dick?” Erik says to Vance before his eyes zeroed in on Vance’s erection, “Dick long as fuck...tear some ass up with this.” 

Erik started Jerking Vance’s dick.

“Get that dick, ma, nasty ass bitch...got my dick all in that pussy...I bet that ass looks real juicy bouncing…”

“This big ass dick.”

Jodie’s cream coated the condom.

“Good dick…” She moaned, “mmmmm, some good fucking dick...so thick...Unh, so good.”

“She’s loving that,” Vance says before grunting from Erik’s thumb stroking his tip, “I love that fat dick too.”

“I know you do, baby boy,” Erik gives Vance a sexy smirk. 

Erik liked the feel of Vance’s dick in his hand but he couldn’t stop wondering how Adonis’ would feel against his palm. Is it thick with a little bit of curve? Does it have length to it for Erik to deep throat? Is it soft to the touch yet textured from his thick veins? He couldn’t shake it. He let go of Vance’s dick and grabbed Jodie’s ankles, picking his hips off the bed and serving her more dick. He didn’t let up on his strokes, knocking the wind out of her chest and making her shout. Vance took over with jerking his dick while his eyes focused on Erik’s powerful hips. 

“KEEP FUCKING ME!” 

“Make her cum, Erik...Make that pussy cum,” Vance said.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” Erik gritted his teeth, “cum on this dick, bitch...get you some of this dick...she about her business look at her,” Erik and Vance watched Jodie work her hips on his dick, “bounce that shit.”

“Hell yeah, I love watching that big dick pound her pussy,” Vance leans over to tongue Erik’s neck. Erik gripped his chin and flicked tongues with Vance. He broke away from him to moan out. His balls contracted rhythmically with his dick and that was a sign that he was ready to pump his fat load all over their faces. 

“Get down on your knees, both of y’all, hurry up, fuck, I gotta bust!”

Vance and Jodie are on their knees and Erik stands before them, snatching his condom off before fisting his dick. All of that cum squeezed out from his heavy sack all over Vance and Jodie’s face, mouth, and wiggling tongue. 

“Clean this dick up,” Erik spoke with a gruff tone. Both of their tongues battled for a taste. The feeling of two sets of lips on his dick made more cum dribble. Vance took over and sucked him, Erik pulling his dick from his mouth to give Jodie some. He allowed his dick to swing back and forth for them to catch and suck. 

“Y’all gon’ have me fucking again,” Erik shook his head, “Damn...y’all love this dick.”

Watching them attack his dick had Erik satisfied but there was still part of him that needed more. 

Adonis was going to be trouble...if only he would accept his attraction for Erik so he could really show him how badly he needs him. Erik wasn’t going to wait too long either. 

@tgigoldie​ @soufcakmistress​ @chefjessypooh​ @chaneajoyyy​ @pananegra​ @theblulife​ @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark  @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhorewrites @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @chaneajoyyy @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @cecereads209 @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique  @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0  @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee @nyleveeee @erlebnissebliss @melinaasap1 @woahthatshitfat @that-chick212 @scarypumkin23 @sambuckyslayallday @vikki240401 @kuaua98 @enigmadivine @gingerylimonte @counterfeit-recherche @unholyxcumbucket @xdezaraex @missgigglesmoultrie @imrootingforeveryoneblack @dashhoney25 @oversorry @abluesforlyssa @honeybeejaes @admirehermind @wassuduoo @kaykay0829 @woahitslucyylu

[bunnyart-blog]

Tovar x Reader: Honeysuckle, horsehair, and halberd. "You are weak with love for her."

I’m so sorry this took me twELVE ACTUAL YEARS to write but after much struggle it is done. This takes place in the same universe as this and this, which. I have now named the Honeysuckle Universe in honour of you for always indulging my Tovar fantasies. Also this is from Tovar’s POV pls go easy on me I have no idea how this reads 

Words: 7K

Rating: MA (explicit sexual scenes, some violence)

Summary: Tovar leaves the cottage, only to return to it much earlier than planned. 

. 

The tavern feels miles from the cottage. It is full to bursting, shouting and drinking and cheering spilling out into the dim around it. William waits for him outside, looks lost with the absence of his bow, picking at something on his trouser. The Germans were inside already, he explains when Tovar arrives, almost at dusk. The thickness of the forest around the large wooden building makes the world seem darker than it is. William pushes up and follows Tovar to the stable, shows him to the stall next to his own horse. He does not ask why Tovar is late, and Tovar does not have to lie that he could not have beared to leave you any earlier that morning. Did not have to lie about the delay which came from the small gift you had given him before he left, hanging now from a chain around his neck. A small ring. Tovar hands his horse to the stable boy with a bronze piece and follows William inside.

The Germans are at a low table in the corner, empty drinks around them already. Heinrich, the bigger of the two and a large man by any measure, is laughing. Tall and dirty, with a slick of long blonde hair and a beard which might have been red were it not so covered in grime and dust from the road. Otte is smaller, darker and has drunk much less. Nods at Tovar and William as they tuck into the table. William tries to lead the conversation, tries to talk about the job ahead. The four of them, hired as guard for some lord making the travel from the North country to the Asian Steppe. But Heinrich is raucous, drunk already, and not interested in talk of work. He wants to reminisce of their last job, of the bloodshed, of the women he plans on fucking. Otte is quiet, and William gives up. Tovar has not listened since they sat down, has pulled the chain from around his neck and fiddles with it.

He stares down at the pendant in his hand. It had looked small in yours, but in his it is miniscule. A thick band of gold like a ring, but much too small for his finger, plated with a gold flower which stands off the smooth surface. Honeysuckle. Like the bush that grows outside your cottage, the smells of sweetness and of you. The inside is inscribed with a single word. A word he cannot read and does not recognise. You had been nervous to give it to him. Unable to meet his eye. Insisted if he didn’t want it he did not have to take it, not just to spare your feelings. He rolls the ring over in his palm, watches the way the chain catches the light. It’s a thick chain and is bronze instead of gold. He tries to imagine you, the money which you had planted in the ground and grown with your hands, hard earned through soil. Saved for months, that little coin purse at the back of your cutlery drawer you had stopped checking he had stolen. Just to buy him this – a trinket. Some piece of jewellery. One which you had no need for. Knew that he had no need for either. Just given it to him because it was pretty, and because you wanted it. To serve as a reminder. It’s worth could have fed you for weeks. Bought you enough of the yellow cotton you had stared so longingly at in the dressmaker’s window. Enough to make you the dress you desperately wanted. The small thing feels heavier than it could possibly be.

Heinrich snatches it out of his open palm, laughing. “And where did you swindle this?”

The German holds it up between them, Tovar’s eyes follow the ring as it swings on the end of the chain, glimmering in the low light of the fire. Forces himself to still in the chair, not to grab at it. He grunts. “Give it back.”

“You know the rules, Tovar.” Heinrich curls his fist around the chain. Too big and rough for something so delicate. “All for all.”

“This is not from a job.” Tovar struggles to keep his face smooth. “This is the agreement for the job.”

“Who’d you steal it from?” Heinrich lifts the ring closer to his face. Then his smile turns malicious. Ugly. He grins with all his dirty teeth. “Did you steal it from your widow?”

The rest of the party has been drawn in, watch with curious eyes as Heinrich throws the necklace straight up into the air and catches it again in his waiting palm. Tovar can’t stop the jump of his shoulders, the instinct to reach for it. The fear that the man will let it clatter to the floor. But he does not move fast enough. Heinrich’s grin is all bared teeth and snarl, throws it up again and this time Tovar moves with purpose, leans across the table to catch it. But Heinrich snatches it before he can and pulls it out of his reach. Tovar slams his fist onto the table and Heinrich laughs. Otte and William shift with the tension, watch the two men with wary eyes.

“How much do you think we can sell it for?” The German hums in mock thoughtfulness. Has the look of a man who knows he has found something important. “We could stay in inns for a week, all of us for this!”

“You’ve had your fun, Heinrich.” William sounds tired. Takes a deep drink from his pint. “Give it back.”

Tovar closes his eyes, breaths a silent sigh. Open his eyes again and finds Heinrich laughing again. The sound is uglier than his smile. Heinrich holds the ring up to the light and then slaps his open hand down flat on the tabletop. The ring in his hand scraps across the wood as he drags it back towards himself. Clinks against the slats in the table. Tovar clenches his fist tighter. Doesn’t bother to try and hide is fury anymore. Heinrich leans forward, pushes his weight of the table.

“Are you going to give it to her?” He is close enough that Tovar can smell the bitterness of his ale on his breath. “Does our friend buy his little whore gifts, now?”

“Enough Heinrich.” William says, while at the same time Otte says, “Give it back.”

Tovar watches Heinrich, still and quiet. Releases his fist on the table, tenses ready. Lets the big man lean close enough that his balance is all the way over the table and his ass has lifted off his seat. Holds his gaze. And then Tovar snaps up, grabs him by his dirty blond beard, yanks him even further forward. Stands, grabs the back of the man’s head and slams it down against the tabletop. There’s an awful crack, the sound of his nose breaking, and a wet cry. William yells, Otte is on his feet, knife in hand. Tovar lifts the man again by his hair, crouches down low so that he is level with Heinrich’s already swelling eyes and gushing nose.

“You do not touch my things,” Tovar murmurs to him, soft and gentle, like he would talk to his horse. Some skittish animal. “Yes?”

Heinrich glares, struggles to do it has the blood begins to run into his teeth. Tovar yanks him by his hair again, harsh enough to make the man gargle a cry, yell. “Fine!”

“Give the necklace to me.”

Heinrich is slow to move again but he lifts his weight off his hand. Pushes the necklace across the wood again, harder, makes the scraping loud and deliberate. Lifts it up and drops it into the hand Tovar puts under his nose. The chain falls with a soft tinkling.

Tovar looks down at it. Smiles, too friend, too big. “I want to hear you say it.”

Heinrich licks his lips. Dribbles blood into his heard. “Say what?”

“I will not touch your things, Tovar. I would like to hear these words from you.”

Heinrich pulls, tries to manouver out of Tovar’s grip, but Tovar tightens his hold on the man’s hair, clenches it so tightly the ruddy skin of the man’s face pulls back. Shakes him. Heinrich makes a noise, a sound of defeat and braces his arms against the table.

“I will…” Heinrich struggles with the words. With the thickness in his nose and the blood in his throat. “I will not touch your things, Tovar.”

Tovar smiles bigger. “Good. This is good.”

He releases his fingers slowly from the tangles mess of blonde. Cups the back of Heinrich’s head, draws him even closer, until their foreheads almost touch. Chuckles when the man flinches away from him. Tovar shushes him, pats him gently, his palm meeting the back of Heinrich’s head. Still treats him like he would his horse, a dog. Laughs louder when he releases him. Heinrich lurches back, lands hard in his chair. Otte has his blade still out, unsure, hovering by his countryman. William is still in his seat, eyes Tovar with disapproval. Says nothing. Tovar straightens and closes his fist around the chain and the ring on it. Feels the jittering surge of relief.

The tavern around them is completely silent, onlookers watching to see the result of the scuffle. The barman has moved to the public side of the bench, away from his post. A rag slung over his shoulder and arms crossed. Tovar pushes away from the table. Wipes his mouth along the back of his forearm and sniffs at the men before him. He picks his way through the crowd, lets it part for him, stop before the barman and presses two coins onto the counter next to him. For the commotion and for the drinks. The barman pulls the rag at his shoulder away and picks up the coins. Inspects them briefly. Drops them into the small purse at his hip and nods. Murmurs pick up through the crowd again. Tovar moves towards the door again, finds his way back the way he had come in not an hour before and out into the night. Night well and truly fallen now, dark except for the orange glow of the tavern lantern lit beneath a swaying sign. Still and calm compared to the din which has picked up again inside the wall, squares of light illuminating patches of earthen road outside, trampled by hoof and boot.

Tovar is still clutching the ring. He slips it on over his head and tucks it beneath his cuirass and tunic and lets the little, warm thing sit there against his skin. Puts his hand over it, only a tiny bump beneath layers of linen and leather. He tries to remember the last time anyone gave him something, anything, simply for being.

He can’t.

The door swings open behind him. Tovar sighs and doesn’t have to turn to know who has followed him. Heinrich is a hulking man, larger than him, taller by almost a head and stronger. Thick arms and legs and a body like a barrel. There is blood on his shirt and in his beard, beginning to cake and dry into black clumps and stains Staring up at him now Tovar realises his mistake in picking this fight with him. But he can’t bring himself to regret it. Drops his hand from the spot near his heart and rests it against the hilt of his sword at his hip. Idle and easy, hoping he does not have to draw it. Heinrich has not drawn his or moved to do so. Just stares at him, breath clouding in the cooling autumn air. Puffs of anger dissipating into the darkness as they fade.

Neither of them moves.

Tovar turns again and makes for the stables. Has to lift his boots high out of the trodden path to clear the mud from every step so he does not slip. He can hear Heinrich following after him and keeps his hand on his sword. The stable boy is half asleep, slumped against the wall and jumps at the sound of boots through the mud. Tovar tosses him a bronze piece and winks, jerks his head towards the grain room at the back of the wooden structure. The boy stares at him, at the coin, and then spots Heinrich following him through the dark. Nearly slips as he passes between the settled horses and disappears into the hidden space. Tovar moves to his horse.

“You stupid man,” Heinrich says from the door.

Tovar pulls his saddle from its place on the wall. “You are the one with broken nose. Which one of us is really stupid?”

“It’s you, you fool.” Heinrich steps closer. “Another job you’re leaving. What about England? You refused that, and now you’re leaving this as well.”

“Travel by sea does not agree with me.”

“Horse shit.”

Tovar pulls at the straps of the saddle until they are tight at the front, straps the back around as well. Heinrich moves from the huge door of the stable closer to his stall, gets right up to it and blocks the way out. Lit by the lamp in the middle of the stable Tovar can see the deformed swelling of his broken nose. He does not stop in his task, fits the headstall over the mare with gentle hands.

“It’s that widow. You are weak with love for her.” Heinrich crosses his arms over his chest. “So weak you cannot take our work anymore.”

“Maybe I am sick of the sight of you, hmm?” Tovar throws his packs over the horses’ rump. Begins buckling them into the saddle. “Maybe I cannot stand you.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“You are jealous?” Tovar finally stops, turns to look at the huge man in the doorway. “Would you like for me to buy you necklace?”

“You are going to ruin this job for everyone.”

“Keep this job then.” He says. “I know I am not welcome now that I ruin your pretty face.”

Heinrich does not move when Tovar leads his mare forwards, stands blocking the whole doorway to the stall. Stares down his crooked nose at Tovar.

“Is it fighting you want?” Tovar asks wearily. He has one hand wrapped around the reins, the other pets the mare’s neck comfortingly. “Will we duel here in these stables in the shit and the dirt?”

Heinrich does not move, does not reach for his sword or flinch. He looks briefly at the face of the horse before him and then back to Tovar. Considers it, considers fighting him. His pale eyes roam the length of his body and back up. The air seems to grow thinner and thinner until finally Heinrich yields. He steps to the side, only just enough for them to fit through the space, Tovar brushes his shoulder against him as he walks. Leads the horse out into the wide middle of the stable and tucks his foot into the stirrup. Swings up and over. He looks down at the German before he leaves, now several feet taller than him. Heinrich watches him with a lowered brow and a grimace. Tovar clicks and pushes the mare out into the night.

.

The cottage is completely dark when he arrives in the deepest hours of the morning. The world cold and quiet, only the rustle of trees in the wind. The road had been long and empty and felt miles longer than when he had ridden it earlier the day before. But it was easier, because the road was leading back to you, thinks of how your body will feel beneath him when he arrives. Of the sounds you will make in the quiet, as loud as he will be able to encourage from you. He dismounts at the gate, clucks quietly to the horse as he leads it to your tiny stable. Shushes the mule inside when it wakes at the sounds. The animal quiets quickly under his touch. He means to move quickly, to settle his mare and go to you, to find you and the warmth of your touch and the heat of your body. To find his way to your sheets and lose himself in the feeling of you everywhere around him, the taste of you on his tongue. To fuck you so deeply into the sheets that the next day you will not be able to leave him. But he finds himself lingering with the animals. The occasional rustle of the hens, the smell of turned soil and growth. Of honeysuckle. His hand lingers at the necklace beneath his shirt. He is not as angry anymore, now that he is at the cottage.

He tends his horse, diligently and thoroughly. Murmurs his thanks to her, for carrying him hours in the morning and then through the night, with little rest. Dips into the grain bag you have stored in the makeshift stable and fill both the animal’s troughs. Pours more water from the spare bucket for them both. Sweeps the floor and tidies the space and finds himself calming with every stroke. Cleans until the dawn begins to lighten the heavy sky.

Inside it is quiet and still. He picks his way through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Can just make out the shape of your shoulder and the curve of your neck, illuminated in the dim. He seats himself, sets your working boots to the side where they sit by the door and slowly unlaces himself from his armour. Pulls off the layers of leather and padding and his boots. Leaves again to fill the wash basin and rinses his body, scrubs the dirt from the road from his hands and face. He would not bother, were it not for you, knows you will fuss over him is he does not. Does not want the smell of the day to linger in your sheets or on your skin. He empties the basin again through the window and onto the grass below. Sets it back carefully in its place and checks the room, checks he has not left anything which will trip you when you wake in too few hours with the call of the rooster in the yard. Feels something in his heart and his stomach settle at his small pile of things, stacked next to yours in the corner of the room. Realises he is too tired to wake you or fuck you. Wants nothing more than to sink into the bed beside you and sleep.

He settles his weight as gently as he can on the bed behind you. Tries not to jostle you. He murmurs your name softly and lets his hand rest just by his fingertips against the soft, exposed skin of your shoulder. You begin to stir, to shift slightly beneath the covers of the bed. He draws his fingertips around your shoulder once again and then down to your neck, shifts the hair away from it and bends to kiss the muscle between your neck and shoulder. You hum. Still half asleep. Turn towards him and sigh.

“Flor pequeña,” he murmurs. Presses his lips to your forehead now that you face him. Breathes in the smell of you.

You reach for him through the darkness. “Pero?”

“I am here. Go back to sleep.”

Your eyes flutter open, just enough that your lidded gaze catches the shape of him.  He begins to draw the covers away, slips beneath them while you make room for him in your arms, stretch them towards him until you find his undershirt, his wrist. Pull him to you as he lays with you in the bed. He moves a hand beneath you, his other over your hip, and he rests your body against his. You adjust to him, press your cheek to his chest and your lips against the small scar under his collarbone. Let him wrap himself around you and brush his fingers through your hair. He falls asleep to the softness of your breath on his skin and the faint feeling of your heart beating against his ribs.

.

You are gone when he wakes.

He feels so soft against the sheets he can barely move, can barely turn his head to see the brightness of the day streaming through the window. The sounds of work outside are close, knows you had been working your way through your small property in preparation for winter, that you must nearly be done to be back so close to the house. Hears the hens loose in the yard, right outside the window, clawing the soil and clucking. He closes his eyes again and smiles into the pillow.

He rises slowly, dresses slowly. Wanders around the room in just his trousers and undershirt, fiddles with the pendant he had worn through the night. Pulls it out now that it is bright and he can see, and inspects the surface of it. Sags when it is undamaged. Sits with it on the bed for some time, just listening to life around him, the smell of the cottage and of your skin which lingers in the space, watching the way the light moves across the gold surface. His chest aches with being so close to you, with knowing that you are just beyond the next room, and that if you will have him he will stay the day with you and the night again. And just like the night before he is happy just to be, to sit and be at peace.

He goes to find you, drifts through the cottage and out through the back of the kitchen, finds you kneeling in the garden and he waits in the small doorway, just to watch you and not yet be seen. You are humming while you work, a soft and pretty melody he has not heard before. He leans against the frame of the back door and listens to the sounds of it, the sound of your spade digging into the earth and turning it, sifting soil, and the clucking of the roaming hens, the sound of your voice. Not a voice which would perform before an audience, a voice which you are too shy to raise in other company, but has sung for him before. And now it has all the charm of someone who does not know they are watched or heard. Tovar thinks it is beautiful, that you are beautiful, covered in dirt and pink with exertion in the midmorning sun. You sing some of the words, words which are syrupy with sweetness, make promises of love and of eternity. Wonders if it was the kind of love you had with your husband before he died, this sort of gentle, beautiful thing which does not belong in his life. Which he has no right to claim.

He feels suddenly out of place, like there is something moving beneath his feet and he cannot escape it. Feels stupid for coming, for racing back to you, for sacrificing a job which would have yielded great reward. Stupid for seeking you when he has no place here in the cottage, touched by your hands which have only every made things grow and bloom with life. Touching you with his, hands which have killed.

He watches you for some time, quiet and still, until you fade from one song to the next, drifting between melodies. You fold out a handkerchief on the ground beside you, your skirts gathered all around you, and sift through the seeds which are encased inside. Tuck away a strand of hair which has come loose from your braid and continue to hum. He feels all at once as though he has no place and that he belongs there, with you, and he cannot regret returning, cannot regret waking in your bed. You turn to scoop some seeds from beside you and catch the sight of his feet in the doorway when you do. You turn, lay down your small spade and wipe your hands off against your apron.

“I thought I was dreaming last night,” you smile at him.

“No. Not dreaming.”

“I thought you said you would be gone for months. What of your job in the North?”

Tovar shakes his head, watches the way the sunlight paints you against the grass and the soil. Steps away from the doorway and down into the grass below. Moves slowly towards you. “It got called off,” he lies.

You hold up a hand, reach for him to join you. “I was very happy to wake with you still there. Normally when I dream you come back I have to wake to an empty bed. That is the worst of it.”

“You dream of me?” He stops just before you. Brushes your knuckles with his thumb.

The pink which fills your cheeks and your bashful smile glows. “Very often.”

He hums quietly and settles into the ground beside you. You fidget, nervous, catch his eye and then look away, at his mouth, his neck, his scar. You don’t flinch away at it, at him. Have pressed gentle kisses to it between pants of his name. So tender and soft. You reach for him now and thread your hands through his, let him lift you hand towards him and ghost his nose along your knuckles, lean close enough to press his lips to a cleaner spot further up your arm, clear of dirt. Nuzzle against the skin there and then pull away.

The words rise and lift and come all the way to the edge of his lips before he realises, they are there, waiting to be said. That Heinrich was right, and he is weak for you. And in love with you. That he had ridden through the night to return to your small cottage to tell you it.

“What do you dream of?” He asks.

You turn back to the garden, dig to distract yourself from his question. The small beds nearest your house are always the ones you tend last, dug up now in neat little rows before the change of the season to winter. You pat around the edges of your small ditches, each one next to a little pile of dirt to refill the hole. “I dream of all different things,” you say. “I dreamed of the day we met recently.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” You reach into your handkerchief of seeds and begin pinching them out, scattering them into the holes in the earth one at a time and carefully filling them back in again. “You bought tomatoes.”

“You gave me a flower.”

He does not say he had seen you many days before that, with your mule, walk to the marketplace with your goods. He does not say he had taken his time to finally come to talk to you, to work up the bravery to approach you. Had watched you from a distance from his camp and thought you were too pretty, too soft to want to talk to him.

You flush. “I thought you were very handsome.”

He hums thoughtfully, lifts his hand to wrap his fingers in a loose strand of your hair, twists it between them. Watches the way it curls around his knuckles. “I did not scare you?”

“No.” You turn back towards him, dirty hands fisted in your apron. Frowning. “No, you were kind to me. The other soldiers…” You glance down. “Some of them scared me. But you were… you were very gentle.”

“Not as gentle as I should have been.”

He sees you know his meaning. Watches the pretty way the colour in your cheeks darkens and you fidget away from his eyes. Even after he has known your body in so many ways, so many times since then. “It felt good,” you say quietly. “I liked it.”

He is quiet, rubs the strands of your hair between his fingers.

“My husband, he never… it used to hurt, sometimes. With him.”

“He hurt you?”

Tovar watches your eyes fall again. Embarrassed. Feels the heat of fury fill his chest even though your husband is now long dead, and there is no way to fix what he has done. No way to make him sorry for making his wife feel ashamed of admitting to pain. Ashamed of asking to be touched, of feeling pleasure. That even now, after a year, you are sometimes too nervous to make any sounds, to let yourself have release.

“He was not a bad man. He did not try to hurt me on purpose.” You are fiddling with the hem of your apron, picking at the spot where the seam is beginning to come lose. “He just did not know, I think. He didn’t know how to make me feel good.”

“And you never told him?” Tovar knows, he knows it is a stupid question. He knows you had been young when you married, had never had anyone to ask what was right and what was wrong. That your mother had made it very clear to you your duties as a wife. That you had followed them. And that you had loved your husband, despite his inadequacies. And it does not stop the feeling. That he wishes he could have changed it for you. Still angry at the man who had brought you pain, no matter how unintentional, or how small. His hand moves higher in your hair until it rests against your neck, finger tangle closer until they are against your scalp at the base of your head.

“I didn’t know it could feel…” You shiver, only slightly. He can only feel it where his hand sits against your skin. Sees your eyes glaze slightly at some memory. “I didn’t know it could feel how you make it feel.”

“You should never be with anyone who makes you hurt.” He is fierce. His fingers press into your scalp only slightly, but it is enough. Sees the goose bumps race along the trail of your neck and collarbones. “You must not allow anyone to hurt you. It is not right.”

“I don’t need anyone else.” He watches your quiet surprise as the words slip out. “I have you.”

He knows his face has gone slack with surprise, and you are a mirror of him. You had not meant to say those words to him, he can see it clearly, that you had felt too much and spoken too quickly. Nervous, the same look as when you had given him the pendant. The same look of expectant fear, as if he would ever reject you, as if he did not already love you with his whole heart, his whole soul. He surprises himself with the ferocity of his own feelings, with how suddenly he is overcome by them all. He is still staring at you, still quiet, and you begin to draw away.

“I’m sorry – ”

“Wait.” His hand in your hair turns to a soft fist, not tugging but holding you steady. “Do not be sorry for this.”

“I don’t – I don’t need anything in return. I don’t expect you to – to only… with me.” You search his eyes, are looking for something, but he does not know what. Does not know what to give you. “I don’t ask that of you.”

He loosens his fist, slowly, when he is sure you will not leave. Flattens his palm around the back of your neck, cups your head gently. His thumb rubbing small circles at the skin just behind your ear. His other hand holds the pendant hanging around his neck, burning a hole through his skin, joining the brand of your name he is sure must be on his heart. He holds it through the linen shirt, can feel the shape of it better through the thinner fabric. It is not hot, that is only in his mind. He can feel how hard his heart is beating. You are watching his eyes still, still searching. Are willing to give him so much and not ask for it in return. He has not told you his love for you, and you would let him leave you. He does not know what to give you, what he can give you that is equal to you.

“You do not need to ask this of me,” he says. “It is already yours.”

He wants, very badly, to kiss you. Wants to pull you against him and not let go. But instead he moves around the little bundle of seeds so he can hold you without disturbing them, settles behind you and wraps a leg either side of yours on the ground and pulls your back against him. Lets you lay your head back on his shoulder and sigh, sit your weight against him. He looks down as your eyes slip closed and you turn your face into his neck, tip your jaw up and brush your lips against his skin. His hands find yours, closes his eyes and gently holds your fingers with him, touches against your knuckles, the callouses at the base of your palm, outlines the shape of your hands with him thumb. Your lips are so soft, brush against his Adam’s apple, the tendon in his neck, the hollow above his collarbone, makes his stomach twist and his chest ache. Your lips brush against the chain of the necklace and your eyelashes flutter against his skin. You untangle one of your hands from his and dip it below the top of his shirt. Feel along the chain until you reach the ring hanging from it and pull it loose.

You sit away from him enough to see him. He looks down at you and your eyes lift to his, full of wonder. “You’re wearing it.”

“Of course.”

He still wants to kiss you. Is scared of what words he will not be able to stop when he does. So instead he keeps his eyes locked with yours and lowers his mouth to the ring in your hand, brushes a kiss against it. Reveals in the way your gentle eyes darken and your lips part.

“I didn’t know if you liked it.”

He smiles. Kisses the ring again and then clasps his hand around yours, turns it over. Kisses the skin at the inside of your wrist where it is not covered in dirt from your work. Kisses a little higher along your arm, and then again almost at the inside of your elbow. His eyes always on yours. Feels you shiver at his touch.

“I love – ” He gives one more chaste kiss over a spot where the blue of your veins show through your skin. Changes his mind, just at the last second. “ – It. I love it, flor pequeña.”

The smile you give him – it is as if he has given you the world. As if him caring for this little necklace made it worth what you must have sacrificed to buy it for him. He is so full of everything he does not know if he can hold himself together. He will love the pendant with everything inside him if it will just make you smile like that. Will wake you with kisses to remind you of it. Will maybe soon not be so weak with his love that he will tell you it is not the necklace at all, it is you. Your heart, your soul, that he wants, that he would give everything for.

You lean back against him, your hand resting against his chest and over your shoulder, not letting go of the necklace. He kisses them again and then wraps both arms around you. The sky is a clear blue, bright and cloudless. The tops of the trees all around the cottage sway in a light breeze. Still warm in the sun, despite the coming chill of winter.

You other hand is still wrapped in his, tightens around his fingers and you turn your head towards his neck again and press more kisses to his warm skin. Not chaste little pecks as they had been before, he can feel the heat of your open mouth against his neck, the wetness of it. Hums when you suck a mark right at the base of it, and then you press just one little kiss on top of it. He fists his hands into the skirts of your dress, and then slowly begins to pull at it, lifting them to expose first your ankles and then your calves. Watches the way your breath catches, your eyes almost fluttering open. He lifts the hem of your dress until it is bunches all around your thighs, so much fabric swallows both of you up, draped over his knees either side of you as well.

You continue to mark his neck, move with more purpose. Lap occasionally at him when you have sucked at the skin or bitten into it. His hand lifts the hem of your dress, slip beneath the fabric. Trails gently along your thighs until he finds your crux. Dips his fingers idly through the hair there until he reaches your clit. Circles it, almost lazily and you push back into him, trying not to pant. Trying not to show how much so little has affected you. Your mouth breaks from his neck and your head lulls back over his shoulder, exposing the length of your smooth neck. He smiles, enjoys the brightness of the sun illuminating the way your eyebrows pinch and your mouth drops open. Kisses your neck where he can reach it and moves his fingers down, parts your slit and presses against where you have become slick and wet. Draws the fluid up again and circles it around your clit. You arch, he feels your head dig into his shoulder, feels you begin to shudder against him. Your grip around the necklace so tight the chain bites into his skin.

“I missed you,” he says. Finally lets himself press his lips to yours.

You are breathless. “Only… only gone a day.”

He kisses you again, harder now. Tastes you on his tongue. “Still missed you.”

He speeds his fingers up until you keen, until your whine into his mouth. Until you are unable to kiss him back anymore, your mouth just fallen open against his. Your body locks up. He gathers more of your juices in his palm and spreads them over you, coats them around his fingers and pushes inside you. Pumps one long, thick finger in and out of your pulsing cunt until you are shifting and rolling your hips against his hand. Carefully pushes in a second finger and curls them up against your walls, searching until you cry out. You release the necklace. Your hands grab at his thighs, at his knees. Dig your nails into his pants and the skin beneath. Gasping and writhing against him. He wants to stop, to bring you back down and then build you back up, over and over, until you are sobbing. But he is still raw from the confession of your husband’s inadequacies, still furious that you had not always been treated with the reverence you deserved. He curls his fingers again and again while you buck, his other arm holding you around your shoulders, so you do not slip or fall. You come with a wet gasp of his name.

His lips rest against your temple as he holds you against him. Let’s you ride out the course of your orgasm with his fingers still inside you, occasionally curling into the spot that makes a tear slip from the corner of your eye and trail down to where his lips are against you. Kisses it away, kisses the corner of your eye and then your cheek. Feels the tremors of your body begin to lessen. He waits until you blink your eyes open slowly to pull his fingers from you, to carefully extract his hand from beneath your skirts and lift it to his mouth. He licks them clean completely while you watch.

You kiss him afterwards, the taste of yourself against your tongue. Breathe his name between your mouths, something soft and treasured. Soon he will have to leave again, will have to find some employment or job, because he cannot bear staying with you and giving you nothing. But until then he will hold you, and he will help on the property as much as he is able. And he will wake up every morning to your smile, fall asleep to it at night. Catch the sound of his name leaving your lips with his mouth. Ask you what word is inscribed inside the ring on his necklace. He feels your silent hum of satisfaction and holds you tighter.

.

Perm Tags: @btillys @vercopaanir @damndamer0n @starwarsiscooliguess

[kylorengarbagedump]

Line of Kylo Ren’s Dialogue (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: Being that this was a fanfiction written by kassanovella, it was to be anticipated that the Reader-character would, in fact, do something that resulted in violent sex with Kylo Ren. 

What that would be was difficult to discern, as neither the title, summary, or tags gave any sort of helpful hints as to the content of this one-shot.

Words: 980

Warnings: egregious parody, dubious consent

A/N: I just wanted to make fun of myself because I'm sick of my own bullshit.

"Oh, boy," said the Reader-character (that's you, by the way), "I sure hope nothing happens today that will end with me having violent sex with Kylo Ren!"

That was the statement made by the main character indicating foreshadowing of future events. Being that this was a fanfiction written by kassanovella, it was to be anticipated that the Reader-character would, in fact, do something that resulted in violent sex with Kylo Ren. What that would be was difficult to discern, as neither the title, summary, or tags gave any sort of helpful hints as to the content of this one-shot.

The Reader-character continued throughout her day, doing nothing of value or worth remembering, as this was a one-shot, and her motivations were wholly unimportant. It was only after a short set-up and half-assed attempt at plotting that the Reader-character came into contact with the only person the audience actually gives a shit about: Kylo Ren.

"Kylo Ren," she said. "It's you!"

Kylo Ren looked blank, because writing that is an easy cop-out to make him look complex. "Yes."

"Wow, you sure are big," said the Reader-character, immediately throwing the audience out because that's something they would never say to Kylo Ren. "In comparison to me, I'd say you're massive!"

Kylo Ren took his big ol' enormous gigantic massive overwhelming hands and snatched the Reader-character's neck. Then he said nothing, since the author couldn't think of anything useful or exciting for him to say.

"Let me go!" In this moment, the Reader-character was articulating the exact opposite of what the audience wanted to happen. "I'm both angry and turned on by this!"

"I am annoyed by your shouting."

"This is my only way of demonstrating any sort of personality!" she said. "I have less than 3000 words to establish engaging characterization!"

"Enough." Kylo Ren was becoming inexplicably turned on by this, something that the author never decides to explain or elaborate on. "If you continue, we will have violent sex."

"Oh, no!" replied the Reader-character. "I only halfway want this to happen!"

"I know," said Kylo Ren. "One of the tags is Dubious Consent."

"What? How did you know that?"

"I looked up and read them."

The Reader-character scoffed. "That sounds like a waste of time. You know the author only uses tags to make luke-warm jokes, rather than filling them with useful information about what to expect!"

"Yes." Kylo Ren's face continued to be stoic, which the audience apparently needed a reminder of. "But I think this one might be accurate."

It was at that point Kylo Ren leaned in and started the sex scene, a signal to the audience that they should not have started reading this fanfic on the bus.

The Reader-character's thighs probably clamped together as she pretended to resist Kylo Ren for the benefit of the dubious consent tag. "Why do I never get to start the sex scene?"

"Because writing characters with agency is too difficult."

Kylo Ren then made obvious his thick erection, which was shocking to the Reader-character in its size and girth. Seriously, it was so big that it too could be described with words such as massive enormous gigantic and overwhelming, but those words were already used to describe other parts of Kylo Ren's body. The Reader-character made noises and experienced bodily reactions that were described with lots of adjectives with the intent to drag the scene out as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Kylo Ren refused to take his clothes off as he prepared to enact violent sex. This was both infuriating and baffling to the audience, because they came to read Kylo Ren porn, yet he never bothers to get undressed in any fic on this author's page. It was after some drawn-out foreplay that penis-in-vagina finally, finally happened, though it was written in a way that imitated a bad porno.

"I'm going to fuck your little pussy and make you cum, whore," said Kylo Ren.

"You do that every--fuck--every time!"

"But this time is different," he replied through ragged breath, "because it's happening in a scenario that the author hasn't written about."

The sex was very aggressive and violent in ways that would not appear pleasurable to any typical human. There was also, likely, a bizarre kink or two thrown into the scene, as creating a good or interesting story is always secondary to inserting whatever gross garbage the author has a taste for that week.

Finally, after some dirty talk and more verbal humiliation, both the Reader-character and Kylo Ren came simultaneously in orgasms that were written about in language that failed to capture the reality of most orgasms (disappointing). They breathed and stared at each other in acknowledgement that the sex scene was over and their relationship was now different than it was at the beginning of this fanfiction.

The audience was then forced to read through overwrought flowery paragraphs where the author was clearly trying to shove in as many metaphors and analogies as possible in order to look like she knew what she was doing. Of course, she didn't, and never does, but by opening a thesaurus and beating people over the head with as many different words as possible, the author believes she is tricking people into thinking she is competent. At some point italics were used for emphasis on words she couldn't bother to try and make important through showing versus telling.

"That was a lot of nonsense for one little sex scene," said the Reader-character. "Is the story over yet?"

"A line of Kylo Ren's dialogue."

"What?"

"The author can't think of titles, so I needed to say something she could use as a title."

"Oh."

Kylo Ren continued looking blank and vacant. The Reader-character ruminated on the change in status quo.

"So..." she asked. "How is she going to end the story?"

His eyes glimmered with an emotion. "Like this."

[wincestismyguiltypleasure]

Amber, I'm kind of obsessed with casino owner!Jensen and his pet. And how angry Jensen's gonna be when the new security guard Chad tries to 'rescue' Jared. And how Jared plays along with Chad, because he kinda wants to see what Jensen does and the guy's hot so it's fun. And how Jared's punished when Jensen finds out just how far he let things get with Chad, especially when Jared says "Well, if you'd fuck me more often maybe I wouldn't look for toys to play with while you're busy." (bad puppy!)

KELLY!! THIS IS WHAT I'M HERE FOR!!

If there's one thing Jared knows with complete certainty, it's that Jensen Ross Ackles is a possessive, vendictive son of a bitch. He does not share, and he does not take kindly to anyone putting their hands on what he considered his. Which is precisely why Jared was willing to bet his teeth that Jensen would go absolutely ballistic once he knew about Chad and the dark purple hickeys that he'd left all over Jared's, temporarily uncollared, neck.

But his dirty little secret was out in the open now, and Jensen hadn't so much as batted an eyelash. The casino owner's inate ability to foil him at every turn serving as painful reminder why Jared had quit gambling in the first place.

"You're right, Jared," Jensen says, taking a small step forward. Then another. Jared's blood pressure raising higher and higher the closer he got.

Of course, his first instinct was to reach out for Jensen, beg him for forgiveness, and keep his fingers crossed that he'd be able to sit down tomorrow morning. But that wasn't an option because Jared's pride had been hurt this time, and not in the break you down and make you beg for filthy things kind of way either. No, his Dom's reaction, or lack thereof, had made him feel unwanted. Like Jensen could care less who used his body just as long as Jared came crawling back to him after they were done.

So when Jensen reaches out, warm palm cupping his cheek tenderly, Jared resists the overwhelming urge he has to lean in and nuzzle against it. He'd be damned if he was going to let Jensen win that easily.

"You're absolutely right."

The rough pad of Jensen's thumb brushes over Jared's parted lips in a soothing manner. And even when Jared nips at him playfully, because he's desperate to get a rise out of his Dom, Jensen doesn't flinch. No signs of frustration darken his handsome features, or anger giving his hands a slight tremor. He just stands there in front of Jared, staring thoughtfully into those wide, innocent eyes.

It's intense, to say the least. But then again, intense was practically Jensen's middle name.

"I am?"

Jared blinks nervously a few times, clearly confused but Jensen doesn't give anything away. He just pats Jared's cheek softly and continues. "Mmhm. I really have been working too much lately."

Panic swells in Jared's chest, thick and suffocating, when he sees Jensen's lips twist upward into cruel smile. Realization hitting him full force in the gut like a freight train, and just like that, Jared finds himself whimpering in Jensen's embrace. The hot tears welling up in the corners of his eyes reminiscent of the first time that Jensen had caught Jared breaking the rules.

"Hey." Jared's chin is pinched between Jensen thumb and index finger before he can even blink. Grip tight enough to bruise as he forces the younger man to look him in the eyes. And right then Jared thinks damn, this is it. The moment that his Dom cuts the lovey dovey bullshit and puts him on his knees.

That's why when Jensen presses a soft kiss to his cheek instead of landing a cruel backhand, Jared is at a total loss. His bulletproof way of getting what he wanted from Jensen shattering all around him like jagged shards of broken glass.

"Don't pout, Jare. Tonight, I'm all yours."

"O-okay," Jared concedes, trying desperately to swallow down some of the acidic bile rising up in his throat. Barely managing a slight nod of agreement before Jensen turned on his heels and dissapeared, leaving Jared in his bedroom half-hard and shaking. The younger man not quite sure if Mr. Ackles had just made a threat or a promise.

---------

When Jensen calls him to the living room later that night, Jared gets his answer. It had been both a threat, and a promise.

"Ah, there's my boy," Jensen purrs, tracking every one of Jared's cautious movements with a predatory gaze. And suddenly, standing there in just a thin pair of light grey boxers, at his Dom's request of course, Jared feels more vulnerable and exposed than he has in over two years.

"Wh-what's going on?"

Jared takes a hesitant step forward, tearing his eyes away from Jensen with more difficulty than he'd like to admit to focus them on the blonde motionless heap just visible past Jensen's broad frame. A surprised gasp ripped from his lungs when Jared studies it a little closer and suddenly recognizes that longing gaze.

"I know I said we were going to have some alone time tonight, sweetheart," Jensen says, soft and apologetic. Yet still managing to look every bit like the pissed off alpha male that he was standing there in his navy blue Armani suit, clearly ready to do some serious damage. To Chad's vital organs or his ass, Jared wasn't quite sure. "But Mr. Murray just seemed so lonely out there on the casino floor. Hope you don't mind that I invited him over."

Behind Jensen, Chad's bright blue eyes were boring into the back of his boss' head with murderous intent. And Jared could tell by the state of his disheveled clothes and the fresh cut oozing blood above Chad's right eye, that he'd been thrown onto Jensen's couch rather than seated there. Hands bound behind him tightly with what Jared could only imagine was rope or a zip-tie. The single strip of silver duct tape secured across his mouth clearly the only thing keeping Chad's temper at bay.

"Jen-" Jared began, making a move toward Chad only to he stopped dead in his track when Jensen raised his finger. Those gorgeous green eyes buring bright with rage as he pointed to the ground, slow and deliberate.

"Sit."

Jared hears Chad make a wounded sound when he falls to his knees without question. His palms automatically resting flat on top of his bare thighs as he leaned back on his heels, head bowed in submission.

"Good boy."

Jensen's voice is smooth as honey. His words of praise drizzling down Jared's spine, warm and sticky-sweet, soothing him. And by the time Jensen had closed the gap between them, Jared's shoulders were relaxed. The last bit of tension draining from his body completely when Jensen reached out to scratch behind his ear.

"Very good, pet."

Jared hums his acknowledgement but he doesn't dare move. Because despite Jensen's words of affection and his gentle touch, Jared knows his Dom is one wrong move away from completely snapping.

Bending the rules now would only make things worse. And Jared is absolutely positive that neither he or Chad could handle that.

"Baby," Jensen coos, running his fingers gently through his pet's sweaty hair when he notices the pained expression on Jared's face. "I need you to talk to me."

Communication, this was good. This was something they'd learned together over the course of the death-defying rollercoaster ride that was their relationship. And it was definitely a relief to know that Jensen's finger was on the guard of the gun and not the tigger, so to speak.

"C'mon, Jare."

Jared takes a ragged breath and nods, daring to steal another glance at Chad before he looked up at Jensen, body trembling.

Outside he could hear the rain staring to pick up, thunder rumbling low and eerie in the distance but still, it was nothing compared to the storm raging in his Dom's eyes. So much for thinking Jensen didn't care.

"I'm worried about...him," Jared says, voice cracking. He makes sure to put an emphasis on the word "him" because Lord knows if Jensen had heard the guard's name come out of Jared's mouth, that there'd be six, not seven, bullets in the magazine of the Colt .45 Jensen kept tucked in his waistband and blood splatter all over his pristine white walls.

"Aw," Jensen mocks, eyes pitch black and full of venom. Clearly not giving a shit that he sounded petty. "Is my sweet puppy worried about his dumb little toy?"

A hard yank on his hair makes Jared lean up on his knees, whining. Chad's eyes growing wide with concern when Jensen's free hand found Jared's throat and squeezed. "Well, rest easy baby. I'm not going to kill this useless waste of space...Unless," Jensen pauses, tilting his head to the side like he's weighing his options. "Unless you want me to?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jared can see Chad squirming a little, sad and helpless, and he hates himself for even considering Jensen's proposal. God, he wasn't this person. Or at least he'd convinced himself that he wasn't.

Before Jensen it was so much easier to ignore the darkness that had been gnawing at his insides for what felt like eons. But then this gorgeous, sadistic bastard came into his life, an unstoppable force, pushing Jared's boundries and offering him things that Jared would've NEVER asked for on his own. It was too much, and he wanted it all.

And yeah, the idea of Jensen bathed in the blood of a man who dared to put his hands on Jared was a (huge) turn on, but he can't do this, not to someone with a good heart like Chad.

"Jensen, please."

Jared's throat is dry, his voice raspy and broken as he reaches up to grab his Dom's wrist. "I'm so sorry. Just- punish me and let him go. This is all my fault." And it really is. Jared was never interested in Chad, at least not in the way he'd let the guard believe. Sure, they'd some fun, but it had all been a desperate attempt by Jared to get Jensen's attention. Everything Jared did, every time he acted out or pouted, it was all because he craved seeing that look in his Dom's eyes. This had always been about Jensen, and if he hadn't pretended that it wasn't, Jared knows now that he would've gotten everything that he wanted.

"That's very noble of you, baby." The older man digs his nails into Jared's sore skin as he hauls him up from the floor. There's a hint of amusement on Jensen's face now, standing there nose to nose with Jared. And somehow, this wild eyed, unstable version of his Dom terrifies Jared more than the cold, calculated one. "But I assure, I don't plan to hurt Mr. Murray. Well," Jensen stops short with a sly smirk before correcting himself, "you know what I mean."

"But I thought-" Jared's eyes dart from Jensen to Chad and back again, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"I know what you thought, Jare. I know everything that goes on in this pretty head." Jensen interjects, tapping his index finger lightly against Jared's temple. He smiles, bright and toothy, and Jared can feel the color drain from his face. "But believe it or not, Mr. Murray is here on his own volition."

Jared's jaw nearly hits the ground when he registers his Dom's words, teary gaze now focused on Chad who looks extremely apologetic and twice as embarrassed.

"The restraints?" Jensen is standing behind Jared now. He can feel the buttons on Jensen's dress shirt digging into his back, strong hands settling possessively on his hips, pulling him closer. "Just a precaution," Jensen explains, pressing a hot kiss to Jared's neck that makes him shiver. "In case he decided that he wanted to play the hero again."

Jared feels white-hot pain, sharp and intoxicating, twisting up his spine when Jensen bites down on one of the raw hickeys that Chad had left on his throat. Toes curling against the carpet as his dick throbs, dribbling pre-cum all over his boxers, head starting to spin. God, Jared doesn't think he's ever been this hard before in his life and it hurts so fucking good.

"Wh-what are you gonna do now?" Jared dares to ask while Jensen nibbles at his throat. Clearly trying to cover up Chad's handy work with a possessive mark of his own. And Jared's hand is trembling when he reaches up blindly, cupping the back of Jensen's head in his palm to bring him closer. Because fuck it. He'd already broken every rule in the book and he was still breathing, so why stop now?

"First," Jensen growls, delivering a sharp smack to Jared's outer thigh that immediately makes the younger man drop his arm. A half choked groan spilling from Jared's lips when his Dom suddenly flips him around so that they are face to face again. "I'm gonna spank your ass purple."

Jensen hands are warm and rough as they slid down Jared's sides, claiming every inch of smooth, tanned skin along the way. "And when you're so sore that you can barely think, begging for me to stop," he adds darkly, hands settle on Jared's ass. Fingers groping and kneading at the meaty flesh before Jensen pulls his ass cheeks apart, hold tight enough to make Jared whine and buck his hips. "I'm going to bend you over the coffee table and fuck you within an inch of your life. And I'm not going to stop until the only word that you can remember is my name and you're drooling all over Mr. Murray's cheap shoes."

Behind them, Chad is fighting against his restraints, mumbling something Jared can't quite make out but he's sure it's along the lines of "fuck you."

"And when you think you can't take any more," Jensen continues, completely ignoring Chad's temper tantrum, "I'm going to throw you over my shoulder, take you to the bedroom, and do it all again."

Jared's knees almost buckle when Jensen leans in to rub their noses together playfully. His lips ghosting over Jared's, so close and warm, daring his sub to close the gap between them and take what he wants without permission. But Jared's learned his lesson. Stays put even though he's dying to taste the jealousy on Jensen's lips.

"Can I wear my collar then?" He asks, soft and hopeful, pretty eyes locked with Jensen's.

"Of course you can, baby. I'm never going to let you leave the house without it on again."

Jared almost cries tears of joy when he hears the wicked tone in his Dom's voice. A sick part of him wishing that Jensen wouldn't even let him leave the house until he made sure Jared knew just who he belonged to.

"Thank you, Mr. Ackles."

"You're welcome, pet."

Jared feels a bit unsteady when Jensen steps back to take him in. His dark, hungry eyes giving Jared such a thorough once over that it makes the younger man's cheeks heat up with blush. He wants Jensen so bad right now that he can barely breathe. His need to be touched, to be controlled by the only man who knew how to handle him, hitting Jared like a sucker punch. He was so turned on now that it was causing him physical pain, and to make matters worse, Jared knew he had a long, torturous night of begging ahead of him before his Dom would even consider do anything about it.

"Oh, and don't worry Mr. Murray," Jensen says suddenly, looking over Jared's shoulder to address Chad directly for the first time that night, "If you sit still and behave, I'll make sure to leave the bedroom door open so you can hear my puppy scream."

Fuck, maybe Jared's plan had worked after all.

[escritorian]

How to (not) be an Adventurer by Althea Dawnwind Chapter 2 - Role models

All right, so I figure if he’s going to hear all this the first time around, anyway, I may as well keep recording.  Or...asking him to transcribe, I guess.  We talked about it.

While I take no offence to your choice of pronouns, I feel I should remind you I have no gender.

Gotcha.  Sorry.

No need to apologize.

Thanks.  Still sorry.  Wait, so is all this side commentary getting transcribed, too?

Yes.

Lovely.  Perfect.  All right, whatever.  Let’s go.

So there are a bunch of new people at the house.  Most of them are super cool, but one of them’s a total creeper.

Predictably, Julia’s hot into the creeper. (Ugh, her taste) But whatever.  Her romantic graveyard.  Let her dig it.  Besides, I’m sure Galen would never let this guy actually hurt Julia. (If he could actually hurt Julia).  It does make me wonder about why he lets this skeezeball travel with him, though.  I mean, I guess he’s not always the most perceptive, but-

Whatever.  I’m getting off topic.

Can journals be said to have an incorrect topic, properly?

Shush.  Anyway, they were all just here, suddenly, talking about the pact and my plague and my future. I wanted to scream, but I was just so tired and scared. I think I’d have accepted anything that gave me hope at that point.  

Okay. No. Wait. Not anything. They were saying in some alternate past (?), they thought I was about to make a pact with some god of entropy? And honestly, that just sounds bad all around. Like sure, okay, I was pretty sure mine wasn’t one of those cases of spell plague you live through, you know? But some things are just worse than death.

Honestly, I was- am really offended that they thought so little of me. Okay not “they,” really. I barely even know most of them, but Galen…I really though at least he’d have some respect for my integrity. I thought maybe he could see me as more than just the little sister who needs protecting and can’t be trusted to make her own decisions I only even made this pact because everyone seemed so sure it was my best shot. And I- I mean, I wanted to live. Guilty, okay? Who doesn’t?

I felt the same, Althea

Yeah. So… yeah.

It is not wrong to wish or fight for life.

Thanks, Sha- uh, do you have like, a nickname I can use or anything?

Shadhavar is the only name I have ever known.

Wow, that’s…kind of sad. For the record, you can call me Thea. It’s what everyone in the family calls me.

I thank you, Thea.

Ha. Ummm. I was about to say I was smiling, you know, to transcribe it? The idea? Feeling? But, what is it, really? Can you even smile here?

There is no physical form or structure here to demarcate itself into what you call a smile.  The underlying ideas and feelings that cause the smile, however, can be recorded.

Oh. Cool. I mean, no really. Seriously. Cool.  Anyway, what was I saying?

Is this question rhetorical?

Um, yes? I mean it was, but you can- you know.

Those who found me presented you the possibility of a pact.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it, and I said yes.

Do you regret having done so?

Pfff, no. I’m not going to pretend I understand the full implications of having formed a soul bond with an ancient, sentient sword-bridge-focus thing born from both the feywild and the shadowfell? But it’s for serious better than the alternative. I can say that with total confidence right now.

Anyway, most of Galen’s new friends seemed like they really cared for me despite having just met me. It was weird, but also kind of nice? Oh! And Galen’s girlfriend. (!)  Apparently she left after everyone else but flew here the whole way to catch up!

Bad.

Ass.

And they all helped him defeat a death priest (or something) who was after me. I mean, okay. Julia helped. That…doesn’t count for nothing, I guess. I know mom and Nicon have trained her a lot and she’s freelanced a bit without telling mom. But now I have this whole group that seems like they’re sticking around for a bit? And maybe giving me some lessons?

This. Is going. To rule.

I also intend to provide you with instruction regardless of anyone else’s actions.

Really?!

Yes.

That’s…Ioun’s Wisdom, I don’t even know what to say! This is…am I going to cry? Fuck. No. I’m not going to start crying in here. Quick. Help me out.

Focus your mind on a task. You’ve mentioned these friends of your brother, but only just. Describe them.

Y-yeah. *sniff* Okay, yeah.

Breathe deeply and slowly.

Nono, I’m okay. It’s okay. Thanks. I’ve got this. Okay, strong feelings first. Let’s start with that creeper.

So, Creeper Creepzoidington is basically like a broody shadow who shoots everyone dirty looks, and I don’t say he’s a shadow because he’s drow.  Like, that’d be rude and also really inaccurate.  I say it cause this guy loves shadows.  Like, he loooves them - practically lives in them. They’re his home and they keep him safe and warm. Nicon says he’s already stolen from them, and I think the only time I’ve heard him talk was to swear. So yeah, whatever his deal is, I am not training with him.

Then there’s this other drow, Phaedra. I mean, I only point out they’re drow because they’re supposed to be really rare.  Surface elves are, too, but not as much? And I think I’ve only ever seen one of them. And now? Bam. 3 drow. More than I thought I’d ever met in my life, and everyone’s reaction has pretty much been, “Oh, hm! What a perfectly normal occurrence!”  It's just a little bit surprising.

Anyway, Phaedra, she’s about as different from Slimeus Slimeballius as you can get. She’s really elegant and nice. She came by later that night to see how I was doing. I didn’t feel much like talking, so…um…I didn’t, but she was really calm and polite about it. I could tell she knew I wasn’t really fine, but she didn’t press it. She just…did her best to be reassuring then left me alone. I kind of didn’t want her to go, but I appreciate that she did.

And how she moves! I mean, okay, so that probably sounds weird, but you should see her! She’s like floating silk or flowing water. She doesn’t even seem human, sometimes. Well, I mean, she’s not human, but you know what I mean.  She’s just ridiculously graceful, like she’s dancing in slow motion all the time, and my brain wants to learn the secret to it so much it can’t look away. So yeah, her I would totally train with.

Then there’s this younger drow, Tsabura.  (Tsubara?  Someone keeps messing up her name, and it’s really throwing me off.)  I thought she might’ve been be their kid or something, but even without speaking the language, I picked up that was not the case real quick.  She’s super cute but really quiet, and – I mean, I don’t know if the same standards culturally apply (nor am I sure whether or not it’s rude to consider that) - she has such nice skin.  She seriously just glows. Her skin is literally, physically lustrous.  But she’s just so angry.  Like, all the time.  Also?  Really sad.  I hope we can be friends.  I guess that’s a bit random, but it’d be great to have someone to relate to on a different level while on the road (more on that later), and maybe having a friend will help her not be so sad and angry.

It's weird, though. Like, no one’s saying anything about her, but she doesn’t seem like she’s been taking lessons from anyone, and she was pretty much dressed in rags? Mom tried to give her some of my old clothes, but that didn’t go so well. Maybe that’s why she’s in rags. Or maybe it’s a religious thing? Either way, I should probably stop calling them rags. When I tried talking to her, she barely even looked at me.  Honestly, I’m not sure I didn’t just imagine the brief glances she did give me, either.  I just...I want to know why she’s deliberately making herself so distant.  It’s like a mystery my brain needs to solve.

Moving on, there’s this really cheerful gnome named Tielka.  She’s...interesting.  She’s covered in armor and has a sword that drips frost but somehow seems super approachable?  Paradoxically, that makes me kind of nervous to approach her.  She also sounded really smart.  So I guess she’s...what?  A friendly warrior scholar?  I don’t know.  I mean, the image I’d always had of paladins is super stiff and serious, all thees and thous, but this?  It’s a weird vibe.  I mean, she looks like she’s 20, but she’s got this really motherly aura making me unsure if I want to befriend her or make sure she doesn’t catch me at mischief, so she’s got that, “inspiring the best behavior in others” thing down, I guess.

She’s also got a huge dog named Axle with the best leg.  I mean, omigosh, okay.  So his natural leg would’ve been the best leg, of course, but out of potential replacements?  This thing is, literally, divine.  Like, it’s full of clockwork, but it makes almost 0 noise, and it moves with him.  It doesn’t just sit there.  I really want to know how it works.  I mean, I’m guessing the answer will be something like 50% divinity, 40% magic and 10% mechanics, but still.

And then there’s Max.  I’m getting to her last, but she’s easily the biggest personality of the group.  (As befits a bard.)  She’s pretty much the polar opposite of Broody Broodfacerson.  She’s super friendly. She’s always smiling the brightest smile.  She has a siren’s voice and sings all the time.  She has a whole troop of animals who follow her around, all of whom I’m pretty sure she actually talks to.  (I think they’re all named Annie for some reason?)  And she’s so pretty.  Seriously, everything she does is extra charming.  There’s just something about how she moves, how she talks.  Just like, everything she does is so captivating.  There must be some lesson on mannerisms in bard college that teaches you how to keep people’s eyes on you cause there are like hooks on her gestures that grab the brain and don’t let go.  Basically, what I’m saying is she definitely made the right career choice.  Honestly, I wish she were a little quieter, but, well, no one can have everything, you know?

sighs

“You know.”  I have to stop that.

This is your fifth time using that phrase in this entry.

Fuuuck, really?!

Yes. Would you like me to alert you when you use it?

Nooo. I mean- auuugh, Vecna blind it! Yes. Yes, please do.

Very well.

Thanks.  Anyway, moving on...actually, I think that’s about it.

Oh!  And Galen.  But you know about Galen.  Well, I know about Galen, but will you, hypothetical/theoretical mystery future person, know about Galen?  I guess I should talk about Galen.  I mean, honestly, though, it feels like it’s enough to say he’s the best oldest brother anyone could want. Aforementioned rudeness aside, that is.  He’s just, I mean, he’s always giving me his time and teaching me the most interesting things, and he’s smart enough The Academy was too slow for him.  So he just, you know, decided to go adventuring and-

That’s six times.

What?

That you’ve used the phrase, “you know.”

Ugggghhhh.  All right, you know what?  My brain’s clearly tired.  He’s great, and I might end up going adventuring with him, which would be the best.  The end.

…

Sooo, how do I stop...

You can do so in the same manner as you did last time.

Yeah, I’m not really sure what I did last time.

You need simply to “feel” your intent to stop.

Okay, so kind of like-

[headoverhiddles]

Matrimony - Pope x Reader (Let Me Make You A Martyr) [Part I]

Synopsis: You and a skilled hitman are forced to work together to take out a mutual ‘friend’ through teamwork. But together is the opposite of how Pope works, and he already despises you. 

Aka the super filthy, depraved fake marriage au no one asked for :) 

Notes: this will be a three parter, with updates every three days! Enjoy! 

Tagging: (ask to be added) @peachynun​

PART II 

PART III

Pope barely lets the guy finish speaking—he’s already rejected the terms, regardless of the pay.  

“I haven’t even told you the haul yet,” the man who had come to him, Jack Redman, chuckles. Pope does not share his amusement, which he makes clear through a scathing glare. Pope’s glares had the ability to convey a particular type of anger, so intensely that nobody usually challenged him any further… but it meant Redman’s ass if he returned without a yes. 

The two were sitting in Pope’s cabin, devoid mostly of decoration, only the necessities surrounding them. The kitchen table they sat at was low, homemade out of rain-bleached wood from around the area. On their plates, the two had almost finished cuts of red deer meat Pope had offered. It was rare enough for Redman to pick at it, and Pope to devour it.

The propositioner sighs. “She’s a peach. Trust me. Easy on the eyes, all that.”

Despite the bloody mess on his plate, Pope cuts his food with the manners of a King, lifting his fork to his mouth delicately. “She’s a drug runner. I don’t work with drug runners, I kill drug runners.” He has an underlying southern drawl to his voice, a false comfort that eases his targets. Fear always spoiled the hit, just like hunting. 

Redman pushes his plate away in exasperation. “She’s a drug runner who has potential. She wants to help you. This could be an opportunity to--"

“I work alone. That’s final.” Pope gets up from the kitchen table, ending the conversation. Redman shakes his head, chasing after the tall, bullheaded hitman. 

“Fuckin’… stubborn piece of shit… listen, Pope!”  

“I ain’t listening to anything you have to say,” Pope turns, face calm and stern. “I’m done listening. And you’re done talking.” Redman eyes Pope’s rack of guns which he is standing in front of, and swallows.

“Look. My boss is prepared to give you a big fucking bag of dough for this.”    

“How big is fucking big?” Pope asks, taking a pistol off the rack and beginning to clean it. Redman keeps his eyes on the weapon warily.

“It’s a lot, man. At least a million dollars is in this for you if you just test the waters, and finish the job.”

Pope purses his lips. “Half for me, half for this slut I’m supposed to carry around?”  

“Each,” Redman replies. Pope sets the gun down, and the rag with it. He takes his glasses off, polishes them with his shirt, then puts them back on.

“Three days. That’s all it’ll take. We'll see what happens.”

---

You tuck your gun in your back pocket. You’d never had any real reason to use it thus far, since your job, while dangerous, thankfully never got that physical.

Drug dealing seemed a natural path for you to take. Your parents had both been in the business of the black market, your mother an illegal arms dealer and your father working for your mother. Growing up in a family with a “small business”, it had led you to a code of morals that are currently getting in the way.

Morals that say Daegland Pierce, notorious dealer, needs to die.

Since you and your boss both knew you couldn’t carry it out alone, you had been eager to find someone who could carry out the job with you. Your boss got to talking, and as it turns out, there’s some kind of agreement that’s been made. You’re in the dark about the whole thing with him, but all you really need to know is your role in all of it. 

“His name’s Pope.” 

“Any file on him?” you ask, crossing your arms. Lane swirls his drink around. 

“There’s no file for this guy anywhere. He just… is.”

“How do you know what kind of killer he is?”

“Word of mouth. Everybody knows Pope, and nobody knows him.”

“I’m one of the nobodies, would you mind giving me a little more insight, so I know the guy I’m going to be working with?”

Lane shakes his head. “Ask him yourself. You’re meeting him at the rendezvous point, by Exit 19 on the Tollcross back road. Nothing but farmland out there, ‘til you reach the woods Pierce has shacked up in.”

“These the coordinates?” you ask, tapping a map that had been placed in front of you.

"Wrapped up inside. Quit asking questions, will ya? Go do the job, don’t run your mouth at this guy or he’ll shoot it off, and come back richer for the experience." You go to get up, but Lane stops you. "(y/n). I know you think you're real tough, kay? You ain't shit compared to this guy. He'll rip your spleen out if you get on his bad side. So just lay low, do you gotta do, and don't piss him off."

"What makes you think I would?" you ask. Lane sighs, shaking his head.

"There's gonna be two corpses out there by Friday, I swear to god."

--

You drive a crappy throwaway VW bug up a grassy back road, studying the map closely. There's an x marked where you're supposed to meet Pope, and you're coming up on it now. You toss the map to the passenger seat, and crane your neck to see from the sunken seat. There's a black car up ahead, with a man leaning against it.

You park the bug, grab the map, and toss a match in, burning the thing out. You walk up to him, and take a look as you approach. He's tall, got glasses, and has cropped black hair. He's got a few tattoos, maybe more, you notice as he lifts a cigarette up, but most are covered by long black sleeves. How he could wear long sleeves in this heat is beyond you, but you're not here to question his attire. He's actually pretty well dressed, if you'd go so far as to admit it. He's not bad looking either, for a man in his early to mid forties.

The bug blows up behind you, and you smirk.

"(y/n)," you say, sticking out your hand. His dark eyes move over to you boredly, taking you in with a vertical sweep. He finally puts his cigarette between his lips, which are curiously dainty, and shakes your hand. Whatever elegance his features hold are balanced out by the roughness of his hands-- his skin is like leather, and his nails are chipped and dirty.

"You know who I am," he says simply, in a buried genteel southern accent.

You take a spot next to him, leaning against the car as well. He glances sideways at you, but doesn't say anything. He just smokes in silence. You wonder if it'll be like one of those miraculous bonding moments, where he'd offer you a drag, and it would be like some unspoken code of respect had passed between you two.

You lose hope for that as Pope continues to do his best to ignore you. You eventually clear your throat.

"So. I've got a plan."

"No. I've got a plan. This ain’t your show, kid."

You frown. "Don't call me kid."

"Okay, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart!"

"What do you want me to call you then? Cause I've got a few ideas."

You scoff. What a fucking asshole! Still, your boss' warning is present in your mind, so you shut your mouth, and get in the car. Pope drops his butt, snuffs it out carefully with his shoe, and gets in the driver's side.

"I heard we're going to be taking the cabin next to his," you bring up.  "Must be nice to live out in the woods. Plus, I bet the asshole's place is nice and furnished. He's loaded to hell." You purse your lips. "Is it a long drive to the cabin?"

Pope doesn't answer. Instead, he turns up the stereo, which is just finishing up Johnny B Goode. Then, an old country song that sounds like a bloodhound wailing to the tune of a two string banjo comes on. It's got some lyrics about preaching the gospel, and you sigh, resting your head against the window.

"This is fucking terrible."

Pope looks ahead. "Mhm."

"You seem like a rock kind of guy, not this."

"'Mhm."

“Not even classic rock?”

"Mmm."

With a huff, you turn to look out the window and let the grumpy older hitman, who apparently only knew how to communiticate by varying grunts, enjoy his lovesick religious whining on the radio.

Eventually, you make it down a dirt path, leaves and branches hitting the sides of the car.

“Welcome home,” Pope says, pulling up at the cabin the two of you would be staying at. You get out, looking around. It’s pretty remote.

"Where's his place?"

"Just down the way a little," Pope replies, unloading some things from the car, "Before you ask, no, we are not going over right now. We're setting our rooms up-- far away from one another-- and settling in for the night."

"And lemme guess, you're gonna pour some whiskey sour and spin 'Solitary Man' on vinyl while scraping your boots on the porch?"

He can't even be bothered enough to muster up a glare. He simply gives you a bored look through those wire rimmed glasses, and walks toward the house. You look around, and when you think you hear a cracked twig, follow him quickly.

 ---

Pope sets a lantern on the table, and pushes you your plate of food.

"Thank you," you say. It was genuinely nice of him to prepare food for the both of you, something you hadn't expected him to do.

"Uh huh." You eat in silence for a bit, the crickets outside the window your only accompaniment to dinner. It's a nice cabin, in a pretty nice little thicket of forest. You can certainly see the appeal of living out here-- especially as someone in Pierce's line of work.

Pope finally speaks. "So what kind of drugs do you sell?"

"Why? You interested?" You already know the answer, but so far, it’s been fun teasing him. He tents his fingers.

"I don't fuck with drugs. They dull the wits, and I need those to not die."

"Depends on the drug," you grin. He miraculously cracks a small smile, and you go on. "Just homegrown shit. I don't bother with trying to sell party drugs. That scene just gets the cops all over your business." Pope nods. "You ever get cops on you?"

He cocks his head. "Around here? The three good, upstanding police officers who actually care enough to know what's going on beneath their noses are on my payroll. Any marshals or anything are easily deterred."

"You just use your charm and good looks?"

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty good with people," he says. You scoff.

"That's a good one."

He spends a long time staring at you. You can feel his gaze on you as you eat, and it prickles your skin. You can't tell if you like it or not. You wonder if you should say something else. Eventually, he gets up, taking his plate to the cabin's quaint kitchen. You missed your chance.

He cleans his plate, and stops by the stairs. "Why'd you want to come out here to put two people on a one man job?"

"I wanted to see it get done. I guess I... didn't trust you."

"Do you now?"

"What?"

He looks at you over his glasses. "Do you trust me now?"

You sit forward. "I don’t trust anyone but myself."

He nods. "You don’t trust me cause you haven’t seen me do what I do."

You chew on your bottom lip. You hadn't gotten the chance to tell him your plan, and by all accounts, you know he's not going to like it. These three days may be more difficult than you thought.

After slowly finishing the rest of your dinner, you head upstairs to find the remaining bedroom. As you're passing the doors, you catch a glimpse of one partially open. Inside, Pope is lying awake, staring up at the ceiling. You quickly hurry past, hoping he didn't see you, and find the empty bedroom at the end of the hall. Finding it furnished with a few old blankets, you toss a pillow down. You slip out of your clothes to your bra and panties, and get into bed.

You don’t know what to make of the man in the other room. Until you do, you’d better keep him at arm’s length.