#and he would be so fucking mean to her after the jet scandal

[thegreatwicked]

Call Me Love

Friends, I have a lot of stories. Most of them are fanfiction BUT I have for the last little bit been working on some original content that I have been hesitant to share. BUT I am taking the plunge and sharing it with you and I hope you all like it or that it's at least as good as my fandom content. You guys are the best and your support means so much to me.

This is just a bit of fun following the classic musician boyfriend troupe, is it a troupe? Oh well. Here's the summary:

"Been on a bit of a dry spell lately, you know? So, when my mates dragged me to this party, I wasn't expecting much. Boring as hell, until I saw Kit. I mean, talk about a game-changer. I was just gearing up to make my move when bam! Jeff throws me onstage, and suddenly, the spotlight's on me. And wouldn't you know it, Kit's eyes are glued to me like I'm the main event.

So, after the show, we have this moment, you know? Like, I can feel the electricity crackling between us. And then, as we're chatting and flirting, it's like the night's got a mind of its own. Next thing I know, we're back at my place, ready to turn up the volume on more than just the music."

Look, fellas, it's not like we can help it, some things are just a matter of instinct. There’s a fundamental difference between us. Women, they're the ones to weigh up the odds before taking the plunge, they're doing the sums to ensure the risk is worth the reward and they've got solid ground to land on. I've seen my mates make snap decisions over far less than a pint. It doesn't mean we're stupid, it's just that we don't always think two steps ahead.

It's like we're just hardwired to focus on the physical stuff, whether it's getting into a row or getting into bed, especially if there’s a stunning girl in the mix. 

Fighting or fucking, it's all the same when impulse is involved. 

Our heads just start wandering. Hell, we’ll follow a nice pair of legs off a cliff, no regrets.

Don't matter if you're some high-flying politician, a holy padre, or just a regular bloke like me – the moment you spot a short skirt, your mind starts sprinting off to places it shouldn't. It crosses all sorts of boundaries, from social status, to race, to your job. We're all cut from the same cloth, really. It’s a bit comforting.

A look around the room shows the usual setup; my mates' having plenty of laughs and drinks as the Sunday night blues settle in like a heavy fog. The party's in full swing, bodies swaying to some indie track that probably peaked last week. Three days off work, gone in a flash, and come morning it's back to the daily grind. Should be having a blast, but for some reason, it's just not hitting the mark.

It's not a total drag, but honestly, I reckon I'd have been better off just lounging back home.

I'm only here 'cause Jeff, my mate, wouldn't stop pestering me until I agreed to come along. 'Anything can happen,' he says. Yeah, right. Except now, I'm bored out of my skull. As the music fades and the chance of any excitement dwindles, I'm almost ready to call it a night. 

But then, I spot her. Yeah, it’s a girl, ‘course it’s a girl.

It's not even her that first catches my attention, it’s the way the light hits the rings on her fingers, sort of glinting and glimmering; the same way light hits a disco ball. She looks a bit of a girly girl with long jet black painted nails that would do a number on any blokes back, just flying as she talks. Long, black, and glossy hair, that's bouncing with every laugh and toss of her head, a perfect frame for her face and a great smile.

Lighting up her whole face like she's about to spill some scandalous gossip. And those eyes? Well, I'd love to tell you the color, but she's just far enough away to keep me guessing. 

A long-sleeve black and red plaid slipping off her shoulder catches my eye, it 'fits' sure, but you can't tell me it's not a bit snug on her, though I'm not complaining one bit. She either didn't notice or she knows exactly what she's doing. Either way, it's not leaving much to the imagination, it's alright, I'm sure my imagination can fill in the blanks.

And it's not fully buttoned up either, teasing the whole room with a peak of her belly button and suddenly I'm thirsty as anything.

But what really gets me are those legs -- seeming to stretch on for ages all wrapped up in a tiny black skirt. Soft and curvy hips, the kind you just want to grab hold of, you know? And I'll be the first to say it -- she's got a great ass. Oh, are we surprised? Forgive me for being a guy, but it's impossible not to notice. 

Goddamn, I'd be hard-pressed to keep my hands off it, if I had her alone.

She looks a bit shorter than me, but then again, who isn't? Didn't get much from my old man; I take after me mum, except for the height—that's all him, towering over everyone like a human lamppost. 

I don’t have much of an eye for makeup, but I can definitely see some black around her eyes and something glittery that screams ‘The 80s glam rock never dies’ and I’d be willing to bet my last quid the last album she bought was Bowie. It’s a good look. 

And her lips? Full and lush, like they're tempting you to have a taste. Looks like a shade of purple to me, but I reckon some bird would pipe up saying it's actually plum or magenta or some fancy name. Women, they see colors us blokes just don't. And there she is, grinning like she's hiding something, looking at me. I mean, straight at me. Giving me a wink—or at least, I hope it's meant for me."

Lucky me, there’s not a cliff in sight.

I've been around the block, hit up more parties than I care to count. When music's coursing through your veins like it does for me, you crash as many parties as humanly possible, and belt out your tunes for anyone who'll listen. But in all those ragers, I never came across someone like her.

Not sure how long I’ve been staring but it’s long enough for my mates to notice, and they're wasting no time taking the mickey out of me for going all wide-eyed over this stunner. But you know what? I couldn't care less, hell, I don’t even hear them. 

I’m all for a bit of fast fun with a gorgeous face, but tell you something, these days I'm looking for something different. Someone I don't mind losing a bit of sleep with or shooting the breeze about music, sure, that’s one of the best bits. The sort of girl where every word I say means something to her, 'cause it means something to me, know what I mean? And those are a rare find.

You gotta set your sights on the ones who are in it for the sheer thrill of the party, not just to bag a member of the band; trust me, I’ve been a notch in plenty of bedposts to know. It takes a bit of legwork, 'cause they don’t just fall into your lap. 

The ones with genuine smiles, living for the music like we do, laughing like they couldn't give a toss who's watching—they're the ones who'll stick in your daydreams and drive you absolutely mental every second you’re not with her.

A girl who's all smiles, laughs, and just embraces herself—now that's it, ain't it? One thing's for sure: I gotta figure out her name, and I need do it quick before some other bloke swoops in, 'cause I ain’t the only one eyeing her up.

I’m not sure how I end up on the other side of the flat, but here I am, closing in on her. The music's pulsing through me, like it's trying to kick start a heart that's been asleep for too long. I start hearing Kickstart My Heart playing in my head with each step I take, that’s appropriate, innit? I can start to pick out the sound of her voice from the crowd she’s with now. And it's not like most girls', all sugary and high-pitched. Nah, it's got this sultry, smoky quality to it. It's like a cat's purr, the hum of an engine, the deep rumble of a bass guitar—all wrapped up in one. It's the kind of voice that could lead a bloke down some dodgy paths with just the right words.

Haven't got a clue what to say to her, but I'm praying I'll come off smoother than I feel, you know? Like Danny Dyer, Richard Ashcroft, or Alex Turner vibes or something. My mind's racing like a runaway train with no brakes, hurtling toward the great unknown. But just when I'm about to make my grand entrance, some git decides to slam the brakes on my progress with a heavy hand on my shoulder. And who is it? You guessed it – Jeff. Now, don't get me wrong, he's a decent bloke, but he's got a knack for rotten timing, don’t he?

“Oi, Ben, what's caught your eye? You seen a ghost or something?" 

Suddenly, his arm barrels around me with the force of a sledgehammer, sending me teetering like a drunk on a tightrope. I stumble, trying to regain my footing as Jeff pivots me away, and it takes me a sec to set us right before we go tumbling to the floor in a heap.

Jeff's definitely had a few, lumbering about with all the grace of a drunken stag in a pub garden. He takes a swig of his brew, his eyes darting around the room like he's trying to see through walls. Not keen on being the spectacle of the night, I set us right and shoot a nod back to where we came from.

“More like an angel,”

Then, he spots her. Jeff's gaze locks onto her like he's trying to crack a code. With a blasé shrug, he gives his two cents: 

"Yeah, she's kinda cute."

I do a double take. Jeff's comment throws me off more than a step—'cute'? Are we even looking at the same girl? 

She's gorgeous. 

Sure, she might be cute when all snuggled up in blankets in a cozy bed, but that's not exactly what I have in mind.

"You got a chat-up line?"

I ain’t got an opening line, and Jeff knows it. Good man he is, he don’t rub my nose in it, he shrugs and smirks, gesturing to our gear in the corner. 

"Come on, mate, let's give it a whirl."

I don't get it. 'Give it a whirl?’ What's he on about?

Right here, right now? Just grab my sticks and start banging out a beat like it’s all part of the plan? I wasn’t planning on playing, but the gear’s there, and the spark in Jeff's eyes tells me he knows something I don't. It could go two ways: he's either setting me up for a cringe-worthy crash and burn for everyone to have a laugh at my expense, or he's lining me up to be the main attraction. 

With Jeff, you never know for sure.

I’ve got no clue where this is heading, but I think, ‘Sod it,’ and just go with the flow. Jeff's got a knack for taking the mickey out of folks, but it's all in good fun. He's never let me down when I needed him to back me up on the dating front. If he chucks me to the wolves, I'll give him a right bollocking he'll remember for ages. And he knows it.

I settle in behind my drum kit, sticks in my hands calming those fluttering butterflies in my stomach. Maybe it’s for the best, 'cause I haven't drummed up a decent chat-up line. Jeff throws me a nod as he grabs his bass and starts plucking out a classic Clash tune, the rhythm flowing effortlessly from his fingertips as if he's been playing it since birth. 'Cause, well, he probably has.

My drums kick in, setting the rhythm for the song, letting it chase away my doubts, and soon enough, Pete joins the party with his guitar slung over his shoulder. As our music fills the room, drowning out any background noise, all eyes are locked onto us – including a set I still can’t quite make out the color of. But they're proper cracking, and I can feel them on me.

Looks like Jeff's a damn good friend after all.

She's giving me the once-over, and then some.

It's a small gathering, just a bash for no reason at someone's place, and there's no one here who's gonna give us a record deal. But her watching makes it feel like I’m headlining Glastonbury. I see her foot tapping to my rhythm, hips in sync with my bass drum – so I decide to throw a bit of swagger her way. I shoot her a cheeky grin, give a nod, you know, do what I can in the moment. She fires back with this minxy smile and a nod. Like I said, she's here for fun, and she's smashing it.

As usual, Pet’s killing it with his riffs and vocals that would make good ol' Joe proud, transforming our dinky living room into a jam-packed show. I love Pete, mate. He's a top-notch bloke who’s had my back more times than I can count. The guy can belt it out, shred those strings, and the crowd eats it up. Most girls naturally swoon over the frontman – it's only right. He's front and center, hogging the spotlight for the world to see, they're singing along with him. If he says jump, they jump; if he says scream, they scream. Leaves the rest of us feeling a bit sidelined, and by ‘the rest of us,’ I mean, well, yours truly. 

Happens to the best of us.

But that ain’t me tonight. There's just one girl I've got my sights set on, and she ain't paying Pete any mind at all.

One tune would've been good for me – but nah, Jeff's as crafty as they come, and reckons he's gonna spice things up. It's never straightforward, is it? It's like planning to have just a single pint at the local, impossible to stick to just one.

"Oi, you darlin's fancy any tunes?”

Is it just luck that he's eyeballing my raven-haired girl? Nah, never. He's the smooth talker, the geezer who stirs up the mob and gets 'em all buzzing. Pete's got the talent, yeah, but he's a bit of a hermit, comes off as the strong silent type.

Her lips curve into a smirk, and she gives that lip a playful nibble before diving right into Jeff's banter.

"How 'bout some Queen?" 

No British drawl in her voice, pure American charm. This shindig just keeps getting better.

"You got it, darlin', which one?" 

She leans to whisper to a friend, then shouts back something that drops my jaw: Another One Bites the Dust.

I don't know how she clocked it, but this tune’s my jam. It’s the first beat I ever banged out on the drums back when I was just a kid. I can play it blindfolded, in my sleep, or even when I’m completely sloshed. And tonight, I smash it like I'm jamming with the legends I’ve always looked up to; Roger Taylor, John Bonham, or Keith Moon. I’m no rockstar, and odds are no arena will ever chant my name. I’m just plain old Ben.

Tonight, though, I don't feel plain at all. Our eyes lock again, and again, and this time it feels like an electric current jolting through the crowd, straight from her to me.

I love seeing a girl having a blast, you get me? Not one of those trying-too-hard types – you can spot 'em easy enough. The ones trying to be sexy, trying to make everyone want them, the ones who try to be the center of it all by drawing all eyes on them, doing what they think people like. Some blokes dig that, but not me.

This girl though… Blimey, gotta get her name in the bag. She’s belting out the lyrics, swaying her hips to the rhythm of my kit, and hell, that's my kind of vibe. Nothing tops a girl who lets loose with her favorite tune, rocks an air guitar, and gets in sync with the crew over some banging music. And this girl is ticking all those boxes for me.

Never thought I'd be eager to wrap up a set, that ain’t usually how it goes, I’m the last one to leave, but Jeff's got the crowd whipped up into a bit of a frenzy. We're blazing through tune after tune 'til my arms are screaming for a break - a real feat, mind you. I've got the stamina to drum for ages, but tonight's thrown me for a loop. And even though I'm soaked through and my arms are like jelly, she's still got her eyes glued to yours truly.

Gonna give Jeff a ribbing later. I mean, couldn't he have thrown me a hint while I was tuning the drums earlier? ‘Hey mate, save some for later, yeah?’ But nah, cheeky Jeff always keeps me on my toes. Pete couldn't care less, though - he's just doing his thing, paying homage to our idols.

Ten songs. Ten bangers cooked up on the spot, and we smash every last one. When we hit that final note, Jeff shoots me a look that says, ‘Give 'em something to remember.’ So, I go all out. Pouring every last drop of energy into one insane drum solo. Might've put the flat's landlord on edge with the neighbors, but hell, it’s worth it. People usually focus on Pete and listen to Jeff, but now, everyone's looking my way.

With one last crash of the cymbals, Pete and Jeff are ringing out, and I’m absolutely knackered. All I need to set me right is a Carling, a cool breeze, and to give Jeff a sock in the shoulder. Oh, and I need to figure out what that siren's name is. But the way she lifts her bottle at me, I got a feeling my luck’s taking a turn for the better on that front after our little impromptu gig. 

Good ‘ol Jeff. Looks like I owe him one, even if he did throw me into the lion's den without warning.

I don’t give a toss about what my mum says; my sticks go where I go – school, dining table, church, and yeah, even in my back pocket after a set. Not that I'll ever say it to her face. I don't have a death wish, and mum would set me straight. Then she'd go and tell my nan, and then I'd really be in for it. I give 'em a twirl between my fingers and slip 'em right into my back pocket. 

Birds love that little trick.

My limbs are killing me as I rise from the kit, and with a bit of a wobble, I sling a dig at Jeff's arm – doesn't faze him, but Jeff, the proper drama queen, shoots me a look of feigned agony and belts out, goading me on. All in good banter, though, mates will be muppets. Besides, if I was really up for hurting him, I could, and he's clued up on that.

The old man didn't leave me with much, just some old-school parenting; meaning he'd give me a right bollocking whenever I cocked up. But he did school me a bit in boxing before he took off, and I ain't half bad, if I do say so myself. Way I fgure it, if the music gig goes pear-shaped, I reckon I could fall back on a career throwing haymakers.

Pete's completely lost, not catching a whiff of what's going on between me and Jeff. He just gives me a head shake and buggers off to grab a drink – he’s got the right idea. But before I can follow suit, Jeff clamps down on my shoulder again.

"Saw her clockin' you the whole set." He grins, nodding across the room. She's deep in a chat with another girl, stealing a quick glance our way, and shoots me another grin. "Don't say I never did anything for you, mate," 

What’s that supposed to mean? Oh, hell, what’s he about to do?

"Bloody hell, mate, you look fuckin’ wrecked! Go grab a bit of fresh air, yeah?" 

He’s all but yelling at me before giving me a kick in the arse to the blacony. Well, now the whole room’s looking at me. Right, reckon it's time to have that breather outside. Maybe I'll come up with something slick to say.

The cold air’s a slap in the face as soon as I step outside and it’s brilliant. Can feel the sweat on my arms, neck, and back turning icy, the kind of cold chill that tells you you're alive. This, right here, is what it's all about – not some dead-end job where your boss don’t even know your name, nothing to show for it by the time you hit forty. 

No, it's this – feeling the chilly air on your skin after you've nailed the best set while showing off for a girl you fancy. Playing till your arms ache, making mates among strangers, getting pissed and having a laugh with your found family, and then doing it all again the next day. 

This is the good life.

I’m drenched in sweat, probably don’t smell too good, but I can't be arsed to care. Just need a few minutes out here to sort myself out, maybe puff on a cig, grab a drink, and back into the thick of it to see where the rest of this party takes me, it’s starting to shape up a bit. 

Need to find out her name.

Behind me, a rush of air sweeps out as the door opens and closes, bringing with it the sounds of the party and the smell of weed; someone’s having a good time. It’s not my thing, just a smoke and a brew, I’m a simple bloke. I spin around, half expecting Pete to be standing there with a drink, ready to sort out the situation between me and Jeff and have a laugh at my expense. But it looks like Lady Luck’s taken a shine to me, there stands my mystery girl, looking even better up close, and not just because she's holding out a brew.

"Killer set," That smoke I heard is just as inviting as it was before our impromptu concert, but that voice of hers, even if she wouldn't give me the time of day, I'd still listen to her read the bloody dictionary.

"That for me?" I ask, nodding to the bottle she’s holding. It's a daft question, of course, but I like a girl with a sharp tongue, and silly questions are a good way to suss out quick wit.

She rolls her eyes and give a little shake of her head. "Nah, I just like carrying around two drinks 'cause I’m thirsty." 

Bet you are.

Those captivating eyes and that sassy mouth – got me hooked, I tell ya. As she hands me the bottle, her fingers brush against mine, and I swear there's a little spark there.

"Looked like you needed a pick-me-up," 

She clinks her bottle against mine. I knock it back, don't matter if it tastes like dishwater, the cold hits the spot after a solid set. And with this stunner serving it, it's as good as anything on the top shelf.

"Cheers for that, love," 

Local girls ain't too fussed about that endearment; it's as common as calling someone 'mate.' But with yanks, especially them girls, they lap it up and the grin she's throwing my way tells me she's eating it up too. 

"Never seen you here before," She shakes her head. "Who's your crew tonight?" 

Don't exactly fancy chatting up some bloke's little sister. Though she doesn't strike me as a kid, not with that fit bod, sweet curves, and those lush lips. What kinda brother would let his sister out of the house like that anyway? Still, I ain't up for any underage drama. If she's too young, I'm out. Don't need that hassle in my life.

"My flatmate and her girl; Stevie and Nicki."

I ain't got a clue who Stevie and Nicki are, but that's not surprising. People just show up to these things. I'll have to ask Pete later; he usually knows everybody. She doesn't mention a fella or being anyone's little sister, so far so good.

"Didn't know I was getting a free show,"

"Don't get too excited, love, only the first one's on the house." I smirk back, patting my pockets feeling around for a cig, but I come up short. Must've smoked my last one and forgot to get more, I ain’t nervous at all but still, it helps to have something to do with your hands. Damn, a smoke would really take the edge off.

Turns out, she’s already got me sorted without needing to ask. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a little metal case with a purple heart and this heart-shaped star looking symbol. It takes a second of staring at it before I can place it; it's the logo for H.I.M., that goth metal group from Finland, I think. Knew plenty of girls back in school who had crushes on the singer. Guess she's a fan of love metal too. Puts two smokes between her lips, and she sparks ‘em up before passing one to me. That electric jolt zaps me again as I take it. Inhaling deeply, that’s better. She’s left me a set of lip prints staining the cig – not some regular red or pink, more like a berry shade. I'm just staring at her for a moment, wondering just who this girl is.

"So, what’s your name? Can't keep calling you 'love.'"

She bites her lip again; she’s gonna bite clean through it if she keeps that up. Always wondered why girls do that. Well, not entirely – girls are cleverer than us blokes, and they know it drives us absolutely mental.

Where do you look when a girl's chatting you up? If you're smart, her eyes; if you're smitten, her lips; and if you're not quite there, maybe a bit lower, hoping for a glance back up before you get caught.

"Sounds nice when you say it," She says before extending her hand. "You can call me... Kit." 

She sounds unsure, like she just plucked it out of the air but I roll with it. Kit? Blimey, Kit? Better keep jokes about banging on my kit to meself, not sure how great her sense of humor is.

I shake her hand, being the gentleman my mum raised me to be, although I might look like one, the thoughts in my head are anything but gentlemanly. 

"Like a drum kit?"

"Yeah, like a drum kit," She smirks and gives a nod with a look on her face that says, 'You're adorable.'

"What’sa matter, love? Don't trust me with a real name?" 

I'm only teasing; I know it's a thing most girls do, can't be telling some bloke you just met everything; some guys are creeps. She's got her wits about her, I like that. My eyes linger a bit too much on how her lips handle the cig and that tiny ‘O’ they form when she blows out a cloud of smoke, while taking a puff on mine.

"Of course not. I mean, you're smokin' hot, but who knows, you could be a total psycho." I can't help but chuckle. A girl with a sense of humor gets bonus points in my book.

"Ben."

"Ben…" I like the way she says my name. "Cute."

"Ta, darlin’."

"I meant your name." Now she's taking the mickey, and I'm grinning like a proper muppet. This girl's got jokes, eh?

"Oi, reckon you're a smart one, yeah?" 

She puts on this act, playing all innocent, then drops, "I think I’m adorable."

That she is, that she is. No doubt there, either.

Ever get that feeling like someone's checking you out, giving you the 'come hither' eyes? But then, you realize they ain't actually looking at you but checking out someone behind or beside you? Well, that's not the case here. Kit’s locked on me, and it ain't my face she's after, though she seemed to like that too. 

Nah, I've seen that look before – the full-body scan, like she's deciding whether to dive into something wild. You know the one. And that's exactly how she's eyeing me, right down to my belt. Gotta admit, I’d be a tad self-conscious if I didn’t have a bit of a buzz going on.

Now, I ain't Mr. Vanity, and I know I ain't the top looker in the joint, but I scrub up alright. Between years of banging those drums and spare time in a boxing ring, I've kept myself in decent shape. I ain't no gym rat, but I got some lean muscle going on.

"Snap a pic, love, it'll last longer," 

It’s just a joke, I’m not bothered by her gawking at all, she can stare all she likes. Honestly, I've been watching her from the get-go, so it's only fair play.

This cheeky bird, she actually whips out her phone and snaps a picture of me. I was just having a laugh, but the fact that she bothered to grab her phone must mean I'm working some charm on her. She just shrugs, completely unapologetic.

"What? It's only fair, right?" Alright, she's got a point there, probably caught me checking her out earlier, not that I’ll admit.

"Dunno what you're on about, darlin'," I play it cool, but the look she's giving me says she knows I'm talking nonsense.

"Oh, come on, you’re no saint." Hitting the nail on the head. I let out a laugh, finishing up my cig. "I saw you checking me out. My eyer are up here, by the way.”

I exhale my last puff of smoke before crushing it on the pavement; her banter's razor-sharp, and this girl's mouth might just do me in. Wasn't planning on being so upfront, but she swung the door wide open. Can't whinge when I walk right through.

"Alright, darlin', let's get one thing straight. Gorgeous girls strutting their stuff in those short skirts are gonna turn heads. It's just the way it goes,"

"You think I'm gorgeous?" 

Walked right into that one, didn’t I? Course, I do, I’ve got eyes, don’t I?

"Well, you're a sort, no denying that, but who knows, you could be a total nutter," I shoot back, playing her game. "Short skirts, are eye candy to us blokes, love." She flicks her cig end and squashes it under her boot. "Gives a bloke have all kinds of naughty thoughts."

"Oh yeah? What kind of naughty thoughts?"

"The kinda stuff that'd get a bloke a slapped if he blurts it out," I feel like we're vibing on the same frequency, the excitement simmering. I can't help but wonder where this might lead; maybe things will get a bit more cozy? 

"Do I get a pic of you?" She shrugs, but flashes me this mischievous grin, like she's daring me to go for it.

Don't play games of chicken with me; you'll lose everytime. I'm as stubborn as they come. I dig into my pocket for my phone and snap a quick one. She's just leaning against the wall, looking way too good for such a casual pose. Now that I don't think she'll slap me, I steal a long glance at her, appreciating them curves she's got.

"Got a girl?" 

No beating around the bush, but she sure beat me to it. I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair.

"Nah, girls like the idea of dating a musician until they actually have to put up with it. They don't stick around much after that. It's not all rock shows and roses." 

She shoots me a pouty look, and her lips look like they're a treat to kiss. "Aw, poor you," She coos, and it gets me chuckling again, can’t seem to keep a straight face around this one.

"How about you, love? Got a bloke?" If she's got a fella, I just might cry myself to sleep. 

"Nope." 

I can't believe it, but I'm plenty grateful.

"How does that happen? You own a mirror?" I tease, hoping to see her laugh again. She does, and that lip-biting thing she does is really driving me wild but I reckon she knows that.

"Guys are all talk, they say they want a wild girl until they have to deal with one," 

Blimey, that's a statement that will live rent-free in my head for the rest of my life.

"Is that right? You a wild girl?" Suddenly, I wish I had another cig to occupy my fidgety fingers, but then I remember my drumsticks. Those trusty sticks are like an old friend in my hands, keeping me grounded in the rhythm of things.

"According to my mom and the fancy private school that kicked me out," She spills with a sly grin, like she's proper chuffed about it. Oh, there's a story there and I'm all ears.

Kicked out of a fancy private school? Aw, who cares? I'm no stranger to a reprimand from my school days, seen a few detentions and suspensions, never got the boot though, my mum would’ve had my hide.

"You're having a laugh, ain’t ya, love?" I decide to cut to the chase. "You got any clue what's racing through my mind right now?" 

"Why don't you share?" She says, leaning in closer. "Or maybe you should show me."

I blow out a breath and take a step back, fingers laced behind my head. This night, mate, it's gonna be one to remember. Kit’s something else. Absolutely gorgeous, killer smile, sharp as they come, and a cheeky side that's got me reeling.

"Where’s your turf?" I ask, trying to ease the tension. She shoots me a look that’s all confusion with a cute little head tilt, looks like I might've lost her, with a laugh I try again. "Whereabouts you from, love?"

"Seattle,"

I look around, it's not raining cats and dogs yet, but it's off to a fine start, you don't come to London to get away from the rain that's for sure. 

"So, you swapped the Seattle drizzle for the London pour, did you?"

"I happen to like the rain and Seattle has the distinction of being the birthplace of the kings and queens of Grunge.” 

Oh, she's a grunge girl, huh? Oh, now I can work with that. In fact, I see a spot for a bit of teasing.

"Well, it ain't the stomping ground of the Clash or the Who, or even Queen, but grunge is alright. Who are the rulers of grunge, huh? Just Kurt Cobain for you lot?" 

The gobsmacked expression on her mug tells me I've hit a nerve, but she's taking it in good spirits. I'm plenty clued up on Kurt Cobain and a few other names in the grunge scene – love the stuff. But you can suss out a lot about a bird by the headbangers she's into.

"Whoa, whoa now! Being a hottie doesn't excuse ignorance, baby. You're talking about the legacy bequeathed to us, the misunderstood youth, by musical legends like Lane Staley, Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, Courtney Love, Kim Gordon, Tad Doyle, and Kat Bjelland."

So, I’m a hottie, huh? Alright. I can roll with that. Those are some good names, she’s got some good taste and seems I've met an equal, full of fire and I get the feeling stepping on the toes of her heroes might see me tossed into traffic. I like a girl who knows her tunes. 

“Yeah, alright, fair enough, not bad for American music.”

"Well, you know, when it comes to Queen, it's all about Freddie Mercury, right? That 'stache is legendary and it may as well be the best part of her majesty's greatest hits. And The Who, they're cool, but let's face it – Pete Townshend's windmill moves look like something he practices in front of a mirror. Now, The Clash, they're rebellious and all, but Joe Strummer's voice is almost as rebellious as my mom when she catches me sneaking into the cookie jar."

Me jaws on the floor, drumsticks gripped tight, and the laughter bellowing from inside lets me know I'm the punchline of a gag. They might not grasp our chat, but the look of pure shock on my face says it all. Never been left completely gobsmacked until this moment. She's cheeky, firing back with that lip-licking sass, and the smug grin on her face tells me she thinks she's won this round.

“Now, now, careful there love, those are fighting words.” I take a step towards her and she takes one back, “Freddie's 'stache might be legendary, but let's not sleep on Roger Taylor's drumming magic with Queen – bloke's the unsung hero, keeping that beat alive. And about The Who, fair play on the windmill dig, but Keith Moon's drumming antics could give Pete a run for his money any day – he's the real show-stealer. Now, with The Clash, I get your point on Joe's voice, but let's not forget Topper Headon's rhythm skills – the backbone of rebellion right there. Drummers deserve some love too, you know. Maybe they don't get the spotlight, but trust me, they're the secret sauce. So, how 'bout we give a nod to the beat keepers next time we're bantering about the classics, eh?"

“Oh! Touched a nerve did I?” She’s grinning from ear to ear and it’s hard to pretend to be anything other than amused.

“Mind how you go with that mouth love, might land you into a bit of a mess.”

“Don’t worry, in my experience my mouth is very good at getting me out of trouble too.” 

I was right, she’s got that sass on tap, giving me a run for my money. Gotta cool this down again between us. Time for a change in subject.

"What brings you to good ol' London, reckon you didn’t come for the weather?" 

“Aw, no snappy comebacks? Shame, was hoping I might see more of what that mouth can do.” She gives a shrug and I’m in need of another cold brew, maybe a shower too. “My dad’s British, hangs his hat here," 

Say what now?

"Wait, your pops a Brit?" Can’t hide my surprise at that one, figured she’d be a student or just passin’ through.

"Yeah, swept my mom off her feet with that accent too," Too? Guess, I made an impression. "Mom and I aren’t exactly on the same wavelength, so I decided to give us both some breathing room and take my dad up on his offer to put down some new roots, dual citizenship and all.”

Hang on, what?

"You're a Londoner?" I point to the ground, trying to wrap my head around this girl's story. She winks, and I'm glad the conversation is still rolling. "So, you pop back for a visit, what else? What's your gig? Uni? Work?" I throw in, arms crossed, drumsticks still in hand.

"Got a job at my dads bike shop and that's good enough for me, right now.” 

She's like, 'Oh, I'm on the tools at my old man's garage.' Found me a girl who's a gearhead? This one ain't just a ten, she's up there in the high thirties. Should've been tuning in, but I was well gone, picturing her in them mucky overalls, splattered with grease and oil, outshining the other geezers. Blimey, she's still yapping away... What the heck is she on about again?

"Who has it all figured out in their twenties anyway? And what's the point? To slave away at some soul-sucking dead-end gig where your boss couldn't care less about who you are?" She shakes her head, like it’s common knowledge. "Hard pass on that, thanks. That's not what your twenties are for." I couldn't agree more, I tell ya, the more she talks the more relaxed she gets. Like she’s more herself, like she’s comfortable.

"What are your twenties for?" 

"Staying up late, listening to music, hanging out with friends, traveling, talking about life, making mistakes, breaking hearts, riding fast bikes, having good sex that makes your toes curl, figuring out what you like.” She pauses and it’s like she’s getting lost in her own thoughts, gotta say I wouldn’t imind getting lost there with her. "Showing up to parties and hitting it off with smokin’ hot drummers. This blond hottie told me they’re the secret sauce." 

No mistaking it now; the attraction's buzzing between us, loud and clear. Seems like the only move left is to take the plunge. Must've been on her mind too 'cause she don’t waste a sec.

"You know, you never did explain those naughty thoughts guys have about girls in short skirts."

I motion for her to come closer with a playful finger, but she stays put, shaking her head with a hint of mischief. Leaning back against the balcony rail, she's all confidence, like she knows I'll give in eventually. And of course, I do. Closing the distance between us, I cage her against the rail with my arms, and she settles in like she's gone and got exactly what she wants.

"You’re not going all shy school-boy on me, are you?" She teases, eyes full of mischief. I shake my head, getting in closer.

"Nah, ain't one to spill me fantasies for just anyone," I say, lips grazing her ear. 

I've got her hooked now.

I gently tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, tracing a finger down her cheek, stopping just short of her neck. Her skin feels like silk under my touch, and she smells incredible, like a lure drawing me in. But I've got my own tricks up my sleeve, and I start laying out the thoughts that have been brewing since I first laid eyes on her in that skirt of hers. Her eyes widen, and her face loses its playful demeanor, replaced by a raw desire and an electric tension between us. I'm sure everyone inside is watching, maybe even placing bets. But frankly, I couldn't care less. I haven't met a girl this cracking in ages.

And let me tell you, when she bites her lip, it's one thing. But when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, well, it's game over, mate.

"Yours or mine?"

Fucking hell. I’m well and truly done for.

"Let's make some music together."

A kiss can tell you a lot about a person, and with Kit, it's like she's setting my whole world on fire with just a simple kiss. She's got me in a spin, clouding my head, and making me forget my own name. I've locked lips with my fair share of girls, but maybe I've just not been kissing the right ones. Kit, she's different. She's all lips and tongue right from the start, and it's got my brain short-circuiting. It’s fucking brilliant.

We've barely set foot inside my flat, and before I can even shut the door, she's already giving my clothes a good tug, like they've gone and ticked her off. I've just enough sense to give the door a good kick to slam it shut. Tonight's been a stroke of luck, hasn't it? If I hadn't let Jeff talk me into going to that party, I'd never have crossed paths with Kit. Who do I thank? Jeff or Lady Luck? I'm not the type of bloke who buys into soulmates or true love, but I might be having a bit of an epiphany with this girl. And I've got her all night. 

What a smashing party. I owe Jeff a fucking drink.

I can’t tell if she’s aiming to kiss me or take a bite out of me, but frankly, I couldn’t care less. I’ve totally underestimated Kit. She’s not the type to sit back and let me do all the legwork. It’s a relief because she's kissing me like she’s on the clock. I can barely catch a breath between her lips, she’s somewhere between 'I want you' and 'You’re mine'.

The night ain't going anywhere, but she sure seems to be in a hurry to get us to wherever she’s got in mind. 

"Easy there, love. If you keep kissing me like that, I'll start to think you've got somewhere else to be. Might hurt my feelings," 

She gives me a grin, taking my hint, she eases off the gas, slowing our pace, kissing me like she’s trying to taste me in every way possible. 

That's more like it.

That plaid slips right off her shoulders once I've popped those buttons, won't be needing it where we're headed. This cheeky one ain't sporting much more than a teensy crop top, it’s so faded it’s almost see through, and she's got some ink peeking out. You know, the usual girl stuff – roses and thorns. But it suits her, curling around her ribs and down her hip. I wonder what else she's got tucked away. 

"Bedroom?" She asks in between kisses, tugging my jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. I nod behind her, and we start making our way.

Never been happier that I bothered tidying up the place than I am right now. I can even brag that my bed's sorted—nothing posh like them hotel bed-making wizards, but it at least gives off the impression that I'm not a total mess. I fumble for the light switch and dial it down a tad. What can I say? I've got a touch of the romantic in me, and I know girls ain't exactly fans of having a spotlight on 'em.

We stumble toward the bed, not far at all, a right mess of limbs. She yanks my shirt over my head, and I catch that look she gives me, somebody’s hungry. It never gets old how a girl looks at you like you’re a snack they can’t wait to get their hands on.

“Find something you fancy?”

I reckon she likes what she sees, judging by the way she grabs me by the belt with a solid tug bringing our hips together, and that's me done, right there. I love a girl who ain't shy about what she wants. Her lips are back on mine, and I can hear things hitting the floor – keys, a phone maybe; hope it's still in one piece, but I can't be arsed to care. It's just noise. 

We finally land on the bed, snagging a spot on the edge and I pull her onto my lap. Her mouth’s hungry against mine and she moans, and that's how you know you've kissed a girl just right – they start making noises like that.

Her hands are all tangled up in my hair, and it's bloody brilliant. I'm a sucker for a girl who messes with my hair or gives it a little tug when things heat up, gets me going for sure. Sends shivers racing and tingling across your skin, sets your nerves off. Every time she lays one on me, I'm losing the plot. She's pure fire, mate, and it's been ages since I felt this top-notch. I'm all in for a girl who knows her stuff, but I dropped some truths on the balcony back there, and I reckon I better up my game if I'm gonna walk the talk.

"Easy there, darlin', catch your breath," I say, panting a bit myself, but the look she’s giving me? 

Is she giving me a pout? Oh, she's playing the spoiled princess. Gonna have to sort that out, ain't I?

"I’m not known for being patient," 

She makes a move to kiss me again. But I'm quick on more than just my drum kit, and I pull away, leaving her looking like she might chew me out instead of locking lips. I give her hips a little pull, letting her know who’s holding the cards here.

"Oi, sweetheart, gotta pick up the knack. Patience is a virtue, innit?"

"What’re you my priest now?" We both have a laugh at that one.

A priest? That'd be a right laugh, wouldn't it?

"You spot a collar 'round me?" 

I lift my chin, playing along. But that was a blunder. She doesn't miss a beat, yanking on my hair, throwing my head back and I groan before swooping in to plant kisses and bites on my neck, leaving marks my mates will rib me about no doubt. She's causing an absolute ruckus, and I love every second of it.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," She breathes out, the words tingling on my skin. "It's been three weeks since my last confession. I confess to the following sins: I followed a man I don’t know home, I took my mclothes off and let him put his hands on me, kiss me and touch me and I liked it. I deeply regret these and all the sins of my past."

Oh, bloody hell. That kinda talk is steering me into territories I might not make it back from—places involving schoolgirl skirts, confessions, and a bit of a spanking, and I'm already knee-deep in it.

"Wait a tick, love. Not just yet, yeah? You trust me?" She stops and is giving me a serious look, as if she's pondering that question for real, as if it never occured to her. Honestly, it's a bit of a daft question this late in the game.

"Do I trust some random drummer I went home with?" She’s rubbing my shoulders and my neck like she’s trying to put me under a spell, and it just might be working. "Yeah, why not?" She finally says. "Think I can trust you with giving me a good time, at least."

"Yeah, you can, darlin'," I assure her, "I'll look after you, can bet on that." I plant another kiss on her, taking it easy this time, savoring the lick of her tongue, and she goes along with it wrapping her arms around my neck. "Now, turn around."

She's looking a bit confused now both by my words and the sharp tone I gave her, like she's trying to figure out what she’s gotten herself into. But told her I'd take good care of her, didn’t I? After a beat she slides off my lap and turns around, perching on the edge of the bed with her back against my chest. She looks over her shoulder at me, but that's not where I want those eyes of hers.

"Close, love, but not quite spot on." I turn her head to face forward, and she sees what I wanted her to see—the full-length mirror on the wall. She's a bit more intrigued now, leaning back against me more easy-like. "And one more thing,"

She doesn't resist or play shy when I nudge those long legs open, slipping them over mine so she can’t close them in a hurry and it’s a sight. All splayed out on my lap like a centerfold, that skirts working overtime now. A few kisses along her neck, and she's getting all cozied up to me. Being this close, I catch a whiff of her scent, sweet as oranges. I bet she tastes as good as she smells. 

"Now, ‘bout them naughty thoughts, yeah?" She's got this look in her eyes like she's realizing what kinda situation she's landed herself in. She said her mouth was good at wriggling out of tight spots, but that ain't happening just yet. "You’re not goin’ all shy on me now, are you, darlin'?"

She grins and gives me a little head shake, “You sure?” She nods, taking a shaky breath as I slide my hands under her skirt. 

I can feel the heat coming off her skin, all hot and soft between her legs. Not sure what I'm digging more, the silky insides of her thighs or how she shivers just a bit with every touch. She closes her eyes, but that won’t do for what I’ve got planned, nah, I want 'em open. I want her to soak in every bit of what's about to go down, I want it burned in her brain.

"Eyes open, love. You've got a show at the party. Think you owe me one, yeah?" 

That got her attention, didn’t it?

I can see the jitters behind her gaze, but she's determined not to let it show. With each touch, her body's lapping it up. My fingers glide up the inside of her thigh, getting closer to her center with each pass. Chest rising and falling like mad with every rough breath. She's already wet for me, and I can't wait to taste it. But before I do, I want to tease her a bit more. 

My fingers teasing the edge of her knickers with these little featherlight touches, she lets out this tiny gasp and twitches when I give her a little tap, I can't help but grin at the effect I’m having on her. I’ll give her credit though, she doesn't shy away or close her legs, instead, she's watching me dead-on through the mirror. Every little touch has her squirming.

"Feelin' a bit antsy, Kit? How long's it been?"

"Like eight months."

Can't help but suck in a breath at that, almost hurts to hear. No wonder she’s craving a touch like a cat on heat. 

“Oh, poor you, eight months since anyone touched you, like this?” I run my fingers under the top of her knickers and she gives this little desperate groan. Promised I'd take care of her, so let's get to it. "Don't worry, love, I'll go easy on you, the first time, anyway."

My finger slips under her knickers and I tease her slit, Jesus, she’s wet.

The noise she makes when I finally lay a finger on her sends all the blood in my head straight to my cock and suddenly these jeans are a bit tighter than I’d like, but that sound—a mix of a moan and a gasp. It's a sound full of need and desperation, the kind you make when you want something so bad you don't care how it sounds. Definitely one for the spank bank. I'm gentle, but still a tease, when I press against her clit, rubbing it gently with my thumb.

She's hot and wet, and every touch makes her tremble and I’m a liar if I said I didn’t want to just rip that skirt off and sink my cock into her. All things in time, right?

"Fuck," Poor darling, she’s all breathy and I’ve barely touched her, “Ben…”

Oh, yeah, I could listen to her saying my name like that all day. "Yeah, Kit?" That curve of her neck was made for kissing and her skins too perfect to not mark it up.

"Come on, don’t tease, please?” Oh, I love the way she says please like that.

"You reckon this is a bit of teasin'?" I see her eyes go wide and she looks at the grin I’m wearing without taking her eyes off the mirror. "This ain't teasin', not by a long shot." 

I find that special spot on her neck that has her squirming against me, and I give it a nip. 

"Could give you a taste of some teasin', though." I take my thumb off her clit and she actually pouts and whines, don’t seem too keen on someone threatening to play keep-away with her orgasm. 

"Ben..!" 

Oh, that indignationin her voice is cute. I’m not a complete bastard, but I’m also no saint, so I start up again teasing her clit, her eyes shut, and her head's rolling back and forth on my chest like she's caught in some sweet dream with each touch. She's taking those deep breaths, you know, the ones when you're so relaxed you might as well be drifting off for a kip, that is, till I stop again and take my hand away completely.

Before she starts whining about it again, I snag her jaw and drop a rough kiss on her, like saying, 'I’m the boss here,' my tongue leading the way, showing her how we're gonna play this game.

"Here's the deal – you keep them eyes open, watch what's happening, and I won't tease you.” I let her go and reach back between her legs to give her more soft little touches close to where she wants them that leaves her rocking against my hand, “But if those eyes close or you look away from that mirror, I'll edge you until you cry." 

Her jaw drops, and her eyes get all big at my proposition and I can practically see her mind processing what I just said. I can tell no one's ever laid it out like that for her. But not only that, she seems to like it. 

"Deal?" 

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and instead of answering, she just looks back at the mirror. Her arm snakes around my neck, fingers twining in my hair and my neck. If she finds a bit of control comforting, then she's welcome to it.

"Good girl." 

I'm a man of my word, and as long as she's watching, I plan on delivering. "Been thinkin' about this too." I let my hand fall down her chest, thumb brushing her belly button and she squirms and jumps, seems somones a tad ticklish, but that stops as soon I pull that skirt of hers up just a bit.

I give her knickers a little tug, sliding them to the side to get at her, and she jumps a bit when I finally touch her again. I smirk, pleased with myself for getting her all riled up. 

"How good you'll look with my hand between your legs, touchin' you, maybe just a bit of teasin',"

"Ben, you promised…" Poor darling’s in a state, wet with need, it don’t take much before my fingers are nice and slick. "Ben…" 

"I’m not teasin’, just warming you up." Can’t believe it’s been eight months, gonna fix that, I start making little lazy circles around her clit. 

I’ve got no control over the smug grin on my face, I’ve got her all spread open on my lap, watching me have a bit of fun. She’s mewling like a kitten, twitching every so often. Her eyes flutter for just a second before she forces them open. Instead, she’s biting her lip, not to wind me up, but to keep from closing her eyes. I’m getting goosebumps from her tugging on strands of my hair. I can tell with her, it ain’t gonna be long before I’ve got her moaning my name. 

She’s breathing heavily through her nose. I know it ain’t gonna take much until she’s done for – I’m good at this type of thing.

"How’s that feel, love? You like this?" My voice is low and husky in her ear and I go back to rubbing her clit with my thumb, slowly but steadily increasing the pressure. 

She nods slightly, struggling not to shut those eyes and slip into a trance. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

She huffs out this sort of frustrated gasp, and I know full well she wasn’t expecting this from me. To be honest, I wasn’t either. It’s not my usual style, but I’m enjoying it, that’s for sure. If this is a one-night stand type of situation, it’ll be one for the books. If it’s more serious than that, well, what a way to kick off a relationship. 

She wiggles against my hand, looking at my reflection. "I love it," Good enough, my grin is as cocky as they come, but she's behaving, so I'll give her what she wants.

"Girls in short skirts, babe, this is what it does to us poor blokes.” A little shift on the bed and she can feel me against her arse, I’ve been rock hard since I kissed her. “Feel that?” She nods fingers tangling in my hair, I can feel the way she’s tensing up, the way she’s starting to strain against my touch.

“Was thinkin’ ‘bout this, wonderin’ about all them noises you might make when I got my hands on you," 

I speed up those little circles, and she's writhing against me, cheeks flushed, eyes still open and watching, but it's tough on her, bet she’d love nothing more than closing’ her eyes and relax.

I give her ear a nip and a lick. She tries to dodge my mouth by rolling her neck, but it only makes me chuckle. Cute how she thinks that’ll stop me. 

"You’re a sensitive thing, ain’t you?,"

With one hand busy between her legs my other is feeling a bit bored, so I inch my way up her ribs, to the edge of that little crop top she’s wearing, I push it higher, so I can see the curve of her breasts from under her top. She can’t roll away from me now, maybe she should’ve just let me have at hear ear, eh?

She lets out this little gasp when I toy with her nipple, my fingers teasing and twisting, bucking against my hand between her legs. If she was having a time keeping her eyes open before, no doubt I’ve just made it loads worse. I’m grinning like a cheshire cat into her neck as I keep playing with her, mixing up light pinches and feather-light strokes that have her moaning and squirming against me.

Can’t imagine what its doing to her, watching us in the mirror, but I know for sure what its doing to me. Every little twitch, buck and squirm against me makes my cock throb. One hand teasing her pussy, the other having a bit of fun with her tits. It’s a hell of a sight – watching this girl gradually slip into madness all because of me. 

I'm playing with her like a puppet, slowing down and she whimpers, then speeding up and she moans. She's ready so fast, it's like a hairpin trigger. I bet I could make her come with just a few words.

But that's no fun, is it?  

"You know what?" Kit's struggling, chest heaving, thighs thembling against my hand but she gives me a desperate-sounding 'hmm?' "I like the noises you make, ‘specially when I do this," I stop the circles and lightly tap her clit several times in quick succession, and she jolts, her eyes wide open now, letting out a shocked gasp. 

"Got you all worked up, do I?" 

She's starts to nod her head but sort of gets lost and her mouth falls open in a moan that goes straight to my cock when I change it up and slipping a finger inside her and my palm is flat against her clit now. Fuck she’s tight as hell, pulsing with every little movement, can’t imagine how good she’s gonna feel when I sink my cock inside her. 

As I thrust in and out nice and slow, curling my finger just right to hit that spot inside her that's got her writhing and moaning like nothing else, her eyes flutter a bit and for a second it looks like her eyes are gonna win out and close.

“Uh-uh, love, keep 'em open, or you won’t like what happens.” Her eyes pop open but it’s an uphill battle for her, and I’m not exactly taking it easy on her. “Think you can take another?” 

Kit lets out a low whimper and her hips buck against my hand. Blimey, she’s so sensitive, it’s like playing an instrument and I just can’t get enough of it. 

But then something changes - maybe it’s because of how close she is to coming undone or maybe it’s because she needs more than just one finger inside her - but Kit starts pushing against my hand between her legs, trying to crawl up and away. Is it too much for her? Or is she after more than just my fingers?

"Oh no you don't," I growl playfully into her ear as I quickly move my other hand from where it's been teasing one nipple to wrap around Kit's waist and hold her still.

“That’s not an answer, Kit. You want another finger in your pussy?”

“--Please!” She seizes up when I add another finger as promised and I slow down, grinding my palm against her, and her knees draw in a bit but she can’t close her legs, not how I’ve got them wide open.

"God Ben!"

"How 'bout it, love? You gonna come for me?" 

I’m really laying it on thick, breathing heavy on her neck having a nip at her ear, she’s ready to go.

"Yeah!" I've been a bit hard on her; best give her a break. "Ben!"

"Not sure, darling. I like this view. All laid out for me, are you sure you're ready to finish so soon? It might be a long night ahead…" The slight whimper she makes sounds so desperate, she can’t quite get any words out, but that’s alright. Think it’s time gave her what I promised, I speed up again making sure to keep my palm firmly agaisnt her clit and I keep moving my fingers inside her not slowing down as she gets tighter on me, crushing my fingers.

"Kiss me, and I'll make you see stars."

She don’t need telling twice, and damn near rips my head off with that kiss, it’s messy and hot, just like the way we’re both feeling right now. A hungry tangle of tongue and lips; moan spilling out. She starts kissing me harder and deeper than before, mad with need. She bites down on my bottom lip kind of hard and let's out this low moan that makes the hairs on the back of neck stand out straight. So she likes it a bit rough, eh? Fine by me.

I give her pussy a soft spank, sending her over the edge and she comes; crying into my mouth while I switch back to those circular motions on her like she's a wind-up toy.

You gotta love the way a bird kisses you when she's in the throes of it. They just don’t care.

It's wild, they’re unhinged, like being mauled by a blooming tiger. They way they claw at you, they just want every bit of you and Kit’s no different. Shoving her tongue down my throat, hands tangled in my hair, pulling, tugging and scratching. 

My fingers are slipping and sliding over her, fucking hell, she’s a wet mess, legs straining against me like she can’t decide if she wants to come or go, shaking against me as I keep moving my hand to prolong it for as long as possible. It's like watching a firework go off right in front of you; bright and explosive. And hell, all that wiggling she’s doing? I can feel my cock twitch and throb and fuck it almost thurts.

After a minute though, the sensitivity starting kicking in and she's starts squirming against my hand, moaning and whimpering. And I’ll admit, I get a bit lost in me thoughts. So much so that I don’t quite notice how she starts saying my name a few seconds in, and she almost sounds like she’s gonna cry, hips bucking to get away from me. 

Best start calming things down and giving her poor clit a break, I take my hand away, switching to soft caresses on her thighs that still see her twitching anytime I touch her.

Our lips slows down to a smoldering pace until she's breathless and she goes a bit limp against my chest, her lips are quivering, and she's chewed on that poor thing so much it's now all red and swollen—poor darling.

"Good girl," 

She unhooks her legs from ‘round mind and just sort of sits there against my chest catching her breath, rubbing her thighs together. I can see the shudders racing over her body, can’t help the grin I’ve got plastered onto my face, no better feeling than having a girl come undone for you like that, except having her swallow your load down. 

Hell, they’re both pretty bloody good.

"Ben?" She gives a cheeky grin as she turns to face me, plopping onto my lap like a contented cat. 

Quick on the uptake, she takes my hand, fingers still wet from her pussy, slipping one of them into her mouth one at a time, giving them a nice suck. Blimey, that gets the blood pumping, doesn't it? And those little sounds she’s making? Those tasty little moans? Fuck me.

"Hmm?" Can’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice, even if that mouth of hers is reminding me just how much I’m needing some attetnion too.

"That was hot." She’s all out of breath and I’m grinning ear to ear, “Mean.” She nips at my fingertip with her teeth and it almost smarts a bit, yeah, I reckon I might have gotten carried away a bit. “But hot.”  

Suddenly, it's like flipping a switch from a contented kitten to a wild tiger; she’s practically climbing me like a damn tree me. Shoving me onto my back, her tongue plunging into my mouth, clawing at my chest, making her way down to my belt. 

Sure, I could've put up a bit of a struggle and not made it so easy, but hell, she's earned some top time. Fellas, what is it about a girl in a short skirt taking charge, pinning you down, that gets your pulse racing?

My belt hits the floor with a clink as she tosses it aside, then she’s working the button and fly of my jeans, ripping them down my legs, got me down to my boxers in record time. No time for my protests, 'cause she’s grinding against me and I can feel her knickers all soaked against my cock, and let me tell you, I'm more lost than a tourist in the East End.

Her hands are strolling down my stomach scratching, tickling in spots, just about teasing the waistband of my boxers. Seems I might be in for a dose of poetic justice. Kit ain't the type to settle for a bit of pettiness – she's the sort who'll hold a grudge and make ya pay for it. But as long as the payback doesn't involve too much dilly-dallying, it can't be all that bad, can it?

The bruises she's leaving on my neck'll likely be the talk of the town tomorrow when I'm catching flak from the lads, but right now, it don't bother me none. Let her leave me marked up. I've been in worse states for less enjoyable reasons. Rather be covered in love bites from a gorgeous girl who’s got me pinned to a bed, than some sweaty bloke in a boxing ring trying to beat me to a pulp.

Trying to cobble together a coherent sentence is like trying to crack rocket science with a head full of fog. Especially when she’s planting all these wet kisses on my stomach and the occasional nip is her way of driving her point home, followed by that flick of her tongue. 

"K-Kit. Come on now, love." It's a real struggle to push those words out, and when I finally manage it, she eases up and locks eyes with me, that mischievous 'hmm?' dancing in her gaze. “Thought we said no teasin’…”

"You think this is teasing?" She purrs, her fingers teasingly sliding into my waistband, pulling ever so slowly. “That’s cute.”

Yup, I've punched in for a hefty payment on my little teasing debt.

"Close your eyes, Ben." 

Sounds easy, don't it? But it's like diving into the deep end without knowing how to swim. Sure, I take a deep breath, trying to keep calm, but then she starts working her magic. Those lips of hers leave marks on my hips, and suddenly, calm's the last thing on my mind. And with my eyes closed everything feels more intense, got me squirming and questioning every choice that brought me here. But, damn, ain't it something? Feels like I'm walking the tightrope, completely at her mercy. Suppose it’s only fair, since I had her at mine just a bit ago

"Ben?" 

I gulp, and manage a mindless, ‘Yeah?’

And then comes the killing blow, dropped with the finesse of a sledgehammer: 

"Tell me what you like." 

Oh, fucking hell, it’s not so easy when I’m this turned on and my brains operating on limited blood supply since it’s all gone straight to my cock.

"W-what I like?" Kit's got her own ways of winding me up, and I groan inwardly. I don’t bloody care I'm so damn hard it hurts; it's agony having her this close but not touching me the way I want. 

But there's an easy fix for that, right? Just tell her what I want, right?

There's just no proper way to tell a girl I met an hour ago that I want her to suck my cock without coming off like a right prat. If she was my girlfriend? Yeah, I'd be more forward, hell, I’d say worse but considering I've only just met Kit tonight, if that ain’t her cuppa tea, then this evening might not go as smooth as I’d hoped. 

Can't say I didn't bring it on meself, though. Might've given her a bit of lip, but this right here feels like a full-blown masterclass in payback.

"It’s not that hard, Ben. Well," She takes a pause rubbing my cock through my boxers, and it feels so bloody good, I try to hold back a pained groan but it slips out and I sound downright pitiful.

"I guess it’s a bit hard. But, if you’re having trouble articulating those thoughts, I think I can figure out what you want."

She gets to it, licking my skin, but not where I fancy, and she's got this little moan she does when her hand finally slips inside my boxers, her fingers wrapping around my cock. My whole body tenses at the sudden contact and I let out another deep moan.

"W-what do you reckon I'm after? —Ah, fuck!” She sucks hard on my hip, and I can finally feel my boxers are gone, and bloody hell, I’m standing at attention, desperate for those lips of hers to wrap around me. 

It shouldn’t be this hard to get simple words out. The fuck’s wrong with me?

“I think you want me to suck your dick, but you don’t wanna sound like an ass.” Kit’s got this way of saying things with a deadpan expression that just cuts to the chase. She's figured me out, and I can't help but smile and chuckle a bit. This one's a winner.

"Let's start with this," She’s purring like a cat, her voice dripping with desire. "Tell me how I can make this feel better."

I throw my head back onto the bed, seems she's less tiger now and more sex kitten. Her movements are slow and deliberate, won’t be long before she’s got my toes curling. And when her thumb brushes against the tip of my throbbing cock, it finally shakes loose something in my voice.

"—More," I manage to gasp out, barely a harsh whisper. "A-Anything you want, just don't stop."

"How about this?" She lets go of me and I feel like a balloon losing air, tension in my muscles melting away, and fuck, I want it back. 

"Lick." 

My eyes pop open and her hand hovers in front of my lips, how does she make such a simple word sound so dirty? My senses go into overdrive as I look at her fingers, the ones she just had wrapped around my cock, fingertips glistening with my precum. Her lips are slightly parted, curved up into a tiny smirk, just waiting, and I’d bet my last quid she’s just as turned on by this as I am. So I grab her wrist and yank her on top of me and she lets out a surprised squeak, hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain around us. God, she looks good like this.

And I give her what she wants, flattening my tongue for a slow, wet lick of her palm, ending with a flick on her fingertips for good measure, putting on a little show for her. Sending clear signals about what I'm capable of, and by the look in her eyes, she gets the message loud and clear. The slick sound of my tongue on her skin is downright indecent. It's wet and wicked, every lick brimming with dirty thoughts, leaving no doubt about what I'm planning for my next move. 

She’s sweet and salty, a mix of how she tastes and whatever lotion or perfume she's wearing. The sound of my tongue working over her palm and I reckon I get a bit carried away slipping between her fingers but it only adds to the heat between us. 

She’s got a grin on her that could charm the devil himself, and I'm a bit reluctant to let go of her hand, I was having a bit of fun, but with a tug, she slips out of my grip. Shame, I had a whole act planned for her, but she don’t leave me hanging either. Dropping down to plant one on me, licking at my lips. A heartbeat later, I'm groaning into her mouth when I feel her wet grip around my cock. Fucking hell, it's good, I needed that bad. With every stroke and twist, my hips are moving on their own accord, thrusting up, fucking her hand.

"Like that?" That voice of hers, it’s pure fucking sex.

"God, yes," I gasp, my mind all over the place as she keeps working my cock, that thumb of hers is back to swirling around my crown. 

"Tell me what you want,"

Blokes ain't just after handjobs for foreplay, mate. Sure, it's alright, but let's be real, we're just not after that. We can sort ourselves out in that department just fine. No offense, ladies, but we've got the self-pleasure game down pat, better than you lot, by miles. What we really love is you taking us as deep as you can go, gagging and choking on us 'til we're spilling down your throats. And we’ll love you even more if you swallow it.

Every bloke loves it, and I'm no exception.

I’m pretty sure Kit’s clued in on that, I bet she’s just the type to get off on dirty talk and as soon as my brain starts back up I’ll give her all she can stand.

"Fuck… Kit—!"

"Call me love," She coos. "Say it, Ben. Tell me what you want, baby." 

My brain is short-circuiting. But she ain't letting up, moaning and whining like she's the one being denied pleasure. And when she calls me 'baby' with that need in her voice, well, that does it for me.

Something surges through me and I sit up and grab her by the back of her neck. Yanking her in for a savage kiss, my tongue takes over, exploring every nook and cranny of her mouth like I’m starving for her. Because, well, I am.

"Love," I growl, my voice heavy and deeper and it’s got her attention, "Get down there and suck my cock like a good girl." 

I’m a bit surprised at meself for how quick and easy she’s got me wound up like this, but the look in her eyes tells me; I’ve cracked the code and she loves it.

I've been half the night thinking about the color of her eyes, but I've only just clocked their hue. Yeah, I know, it's a bit rotten that I only catch it when she's about to give me a treat, but damn they're stunning. One's green, the other's blue, no, I can’t be more specific, they’re probably some magical shade of cerulean is a blue, innit? She flashes me a cheeky grin and gives me a long lick before taking me in her mouth, and let me tell you, the relief washes over me like a cold pint on a hot summer's day. Fuck, I’ll check a color wheel later. 

And I never want it to stop.

My head falls back against the bed when she finally sucks me in deep, swirling her tongue around the head of my cock, bobbing up and down. I’m moaning and groaning as she takes me all the way to the back of her throat, choking a bit but never stopping or pulling away like some girls would do. 

She uses one hand to stroke my shaft while the other cups my balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. That’s the fucking ticket! Holy shit. It’s driving me absolutely mental and I can feel my orgasm building with every lick and suck.

My hips start moving involuntarily, thrusting up into her mouth, I can’t bloody help it.

At this rate, it won't be long before my neighbors decide to come knocking, it’s late and they’re probably sleeping or trying to. Now, I like my neighbors just fine, they're decent folk, but right now, they can sod off to hell. All my focus is on the pleasure coursing through me, and I'll throw fists with the first tosser who dares interrupt this.

Her mouth is like hot, wet, velvet on my skin, scorching and slick, as she swallows me down again and again. It's so fucking good, especially when I hit the back of her throat each time. My eyes squeeze shut; that's what blokes like. Sucking and licking, I can't stop the thrust of my hips, I know it ain’t nice, trying to gag a girl on purpose but fuck it just feels so damn good. I'm probably a sweaty mess, hands tangled in her hair, shifting it aside so I can watch her, best view in the house, innit?

When I look down, her lips are wrapped around my cock, glistening with spit, eyes shut in pure ecstasy. The way she moves her head up and down, taking me in deeper and deeper, it's like she's the one getting off and not me.

“Fuck!” It comes out a growl, hell, I don’t even sound like meself right now. "You fuckin’ love this, don't you?"

The sight alone could make me cum. But the sounds. Fucking hell, the wet sounds of her lips sucking, slurping, and licking, she’s doing it on purpose, I know that. 

Her tongue's doing this mad dance underneath, swirling and flicking with moves so spot-on I forget to breathe for a tick. When she gets to the tip, her lips close around me, sucking out every drop of pre-cum, like I’m a goddamned lolly. 

I'd never say it to her face but, some women are just born to suck cock, and Kit falls into that category in the best possible way. I feel myself getting closer to the edge, about to blow my load down her throat. This girl knows what she's doing, and it hits me before I can stop it—

"Fuckin’ hell, I love you!" 

The words slip out without me even thinking, fuck, why the fuck did I say that? I hold my breath, waiting for her response. Hope I didn't just cock this up. 

She pulls back slightly, giving me a moment to catch my breath. But before I can protest, tell her I didn’t mean it or beg her not to stop, her fingers wrap around the base of my cock as her mouth bobs up and down faster. 

"Oh fuck," I groan again, unable to control myself as I thrust into her hand and mouth. "Fuck!...I'm gonna…"

But just when I think it can't get any better, Kit does something that seals my fate. She starts humming against me while still sucking and stroking. The vibration sends shockwaves through my body and pushes me over the edge, my balls tightening as she takes me deeper into her mouth. With one last deep thrust into her mouth, I come hard while moaning her name loudly. 

My orgasm slams into me, and I'm wracked by pleasure that just won't quit. Cumming harder than I have in ages. I’ve got a fistful of her hair, and I’m not exactly being gentle with all the tugging, I can’t help it, it's too bloody much. She swallows every last drop, drawing it out and milking me until there's nothing left. And I feel like a goddamn champion.

"Fucking hell, Kit," I gasp between breaths, my chest heaving as I can barely string together a thought now. 

I start getting a tad jumpy, as the sensitivity starts kicking in, but turns out Kit just fancied a few more licks before she's had her fill. 

The room goes dead quiet, and all I can hear is the sound of my own heavy breaths as my vision slowly sharpens again, a bit fuzzy at first, little fairy lights twinkling in my peripheral. When I can finally lift my head again, I catch Kit all laid out on her stomach with her head resting on my thigh, fingers dancing on my belly. She plants these teasing kisses along my hips, then looks up at me with a gaze like she's well chuffed with herself. 

My limbs feel like they're made of lead, but it doesn't stop me from grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her up to me. Rolling us over so she's under me, caging her on the bed, I dive into a slow and deep kiss, savoring every flavor and scheming my next moves. Her lips taste like me and it only makes my cock twitch with renewed interest.

"That was bleeding amazing," 

She just grins up at me, yeah, I reckon she knows just how damn good she is. My thumb brushes against her swollen lips. 

"Might just have to tie you to this bed," 

I don’t mean for it to come out like a growl but it does, hope she don’t think we're finished here, nah, not by a long shot.

She reaches her hands above her head to grab the bars on my headboard and gives her hips a little wiggle, tempting me something rotten. 

"Don't push your luck, love. Because I'll gladly tie you down and make you scream."

"Sure you will," She says with a smirk, bet she thinks I'm too knackered to do anything about that smart mouth of hers.

"Oh, you think you're clever," I growl on purpose this time and she seems to like it. I grab her hands and hold 'em above her head, giving her ear a nibble that makes her squirm. 

Thing is, she ain't the only one skilled with her mouth, I give a little thrust of my hips against hers and she shudders, trying to wriggle away from me. She might be good with that mouth, but she's the one pinned to the bed, innit? 

"Keep those hands right there," I shoot her a warning glance as she grips the metal bars, and she knows better than to try me. Doesn't stop that mouth of hers though, does it?

"Or what?"

"Or I'll bend you over my knee and spank that cheeky mouth right outta you, but maybe you’d like that." 

Her eyes go wide and full of excitement, fingers gripping tighter on the bars. She bites her lip, a tad nervy, and you can see it all over her face. I go in for another kiss, but just as she goes to meet me halfway, I duck my head and plant one on her neck trailing down to her collarbone.

She lets out this little sigh, a mix of bliss and surrender, but it's not doing it for me. I'm not after sugary sweet; I want that sexy girl who had me going mental all night in that tight skirt, tiny top and that sass of hers. She grips the bar a little tighter, as I move down her neck, leaving my mark like a warning for any other muppet thinking they can stake a claim.

She’s still sporting that skirt and tiny crop top, and I shake my head – no chance, love. Those’re coming off.

It's like peeling back a present, innit? So, I start pushing that little top up, inch by inch. She makes a simple black bra look dead sexy, practcally spilling out the top and that grin she’s wearing tells me she likes how I’m looking at her. Lucky me, I'm the bloke who gets to unwrap this surprise.

"All dolled up just for me, eh?" I let my eyes wander over her breasts, soaking in every detail. "You're gorgeous, babe, no doubt about it. But..." She's like a feast for the eyes, and I've got an urge to sample her. "I reckon you might be a tad overdressed, don't you think?"

A little push and that top and her bra are up her arms and all bunched up around her wrists, not handcuffs but it’ll do for the moment. Her tits are spilling out, so damn soft, sweet pink nipples all stiff and aching to be touched. They fit perfectly in my hands; just the right size for some good old fashioned fun. My thumb brushes over one of her nipples, stiff and hard under my touch. 

Knowing she's been starved of attention for eight long months, I make sure to give her an experience she won't forget. 

And let me tell ya, that's when the serenade kicks in, I lean down to taste one of those perky nipples, giving it a little tug between my teeth. I can hear the grip of her hands on the bars of my bed, that sounds of your skin against metal when you’re gripping it tightly and sure enough, she's holding on for dear life. Love seeing girls like this, love seeing her squirm each time I give her tits a suck or a squeeze. 

Needy; that's how she sounds—needy. But this, what I'm doing right now? It's only the starter. Gotta repay her for that blow job. 

"These are nice and sweet, love," I say, giving her a few parting kisses and a flick of my tongue. "But I'd wager, you taste even sweeter here." 

My hand slips between her legs again, and start rubbing up and down her soaked knickers. She groans, and her hips arch into my hand, she’s in the same state I left her in. Quivering under my touch, that confident facade crumbling as I lick my way down her stomach and across her hips.

Pushing her skirt up, she dressed to match, eh? I catch the edge of her knickers, and with a quick tug down her legs, I’m tossing them away. She's too lost for words, just gasping for air as I spread her legs wider.

I let out a low whistle, admiring the sight in front of me. She’s all stretched out on my bed, shaved pussy, sweat glistening on her skin, her craving for me obvious in the way she arches her back and offers herself up. Tits out, nipples hard, begging to be played with, but I'll save that for later.

A wicked thought crosses my mind and I smirk, "I was gonna tear this scrap off you but you know what? I reckon it looks good right here." I give her shirt a shove up and now its bunched around her waist. Every time she rocks that skirt in the future, it'll be a little reminder of this moment, leaving her wanting for more. 

But for now, it's just another memory to add to my spank bank when I'm flying solo at night.

She’s still hanging on tight, but I'm about to give her a real reason to cling on tight. I lean down and take a long lick from the bottom of her slit all the way up to where I know she's been dying for me ever since she walked through that door. Her mouth falls open and writhes under me, spreading her legs wider; like she forgot just how good it feels to have her pussy eaten. Eight long months since anyones tasted her eh? Well, that dry spell ends right now. 

"Oh, my God!" 

"I’m flattered love, but you can just call me Ben."

I grip her hips tightly and I start on in my treat with long, slow licks of my tongue nice and flat making sure I taste every inch of her and open-mouthed kisses driving her wild. She so sensitive to my touch, she tries to wiggle away when it gets a bit intense, but I keep her firmly in place, dead set on having my way until I'm satisfied; locking my arms around her thighs. 

Giving her nowhere to go, she’s gonna just lay there and take every flick of my tongue and kiss against her clit. Gotta make sure she's enjoying every second of this, 'cause once I make her come again, all bets are off. Her moans turn into a non-stop soundtrack of cursing and my name with a nice little chorus of begging.

"God! Fuck! Yes, Ben!" It's like music to my ears, spurring me on even more. Going down on a girl never ranked high on my list of favorite activities, but with Kit? Maybe I just needed the right girl. 

"Taste like bloody candy, you do." I growl, my voice thick with desire before diving back in for another round.

Every little jump and twist of her hips sends a surge of lust down south, my cock’s getting stiff again, not five minutes after she took the lot, that’s how much I want her. But I’m a patient bloke and I've got her curves mapped out. Figuring out realy quick what makes her moan and what sends her to cloud nine. Glancing up, her chest is rising and falling with pleasure, hands clutching onto the headboard like it's a lifeline. 

I was a bit of a mess at school, always getting an earful about my lack of focus. Load of bollocks, that. Truth is, I just didn't have the right drive. Now, with Kit right in front of me, every ounce of my attention is locked onto her. What's pushing me? The sound of her crying my name in pure bliss. Let me tell you, my focus is on point as my tongue and lips go all in on every inch of her, working that one sweet spot between her legs that sends her into a frenzy of writhing and moaning. I keep working on her clit, teasing and tantalizing with little flicks of my tongue until she's on the brink.

"Ben! Oh God! Please!" Her cries bounce around the room as she writhes on the bed, tears threatening to spill.

"You gonna come, love? Is that what you want?"

She nods like mad, "Yes! Please, Ben!"

Now how can I turn down a lovely request like that? 

Her body tenses, her legs shake, and she calls out my name, her voice getting softer, like a breathless murmur with each word. She’s teetering right there on the edge and I lock lip lips around that sweet little pearl of hers and give it a soft suckle while my tongue works overtime. The rooms full of her moans, breathy, light, and desperate, her legs go all tense and her chest heaves. And then it happens - the full-body shudder and her desperate cries, loud and raw as she moans my name again and again and swearing like a sailor. It’s a sight to drink in that’s for sure. Her orgasm hits harder than the last; she may have loved my fingers but she loves my mouth even more.

"Ben!! Yes, yes! Ben! Oh—fuck!" Her moans just might replace my favorite song.

It’s never been this hard to tear meself away from a girl, but I’m itching to keep her thrashing against my mouth, pushing the limits till she's practically begging me to stop. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. Ain't painful, far from it, I love it. 

Then she jerks her hips up and away, reckon I might've pushed it a bit far again, but not keen on being pulled away when I'm enjoying meself. And this is the best bit, she's so sensitive, reckon a few more licks could send her flying again. But the whimpering and the wriggling tell me it's time to give her a breather, maybe another time; the night is still young.

Tonight's been one wild ride for us, two strangers meeting at bash, and now we're smack in the middle of the best sex of my life so far. Not many girls I've been with are keen on kissing after they’ve just had their cunts eaten, but Kit's shoving her tongue down my throat and dragging me on top, and I'm loving it. Like she can taste how good I made her feel. Seems like she's still up for more.

"Not knackered yet, love? Fancy another go?" I throw a tease her way, and she grins, swooping in for another kiss and I just chuckle. "Greedy thing, aren't you?" 

"Not greedy."

"Oh yeah?" I reply, keeping it matter-of-fact, knowing she won't push back. She grabs hold of my cock again, tightening her grip to drive her point home, and now it's my turn to shiver and let out a groan, I'm up for more if she is. 

"Well, maybe I'm a little greedy, but I’m not the only one." 

"Is that so? I dunno, I'm a bit knackered, love, might have to sweet-talk me a bit," 

Truth be told, you couldn't drag me out of this bed. I just shake my head as she plants kisses on my neck and treats me to a few smooth strokes before dropping the bomb, laying it on thick like she's trying to bring my fantasies to life.

"Ben… I want you, I need your cock inside me, please?" Oh, hell. No bloke could resist that, but she's not done yet. She keeps at it, punctuating each word with a kiss and a gentle touch, pulling all sorts of noises out of me. "Please, baby, please? Fuck me?" 

Baby. 

Don’t know what it is about her calling me that but well, it just does something. I'm dead certain this is what heaven feels like, but a quick pinch of my arm and a little jolt of pain tells me I'm still well and alive. 

"Anything you fancy, Kit," I wrap one of her legs around my hips. "You want me, yeah?" She nods, sweet as a nut, her tone might have been a tad pandering, but there’s no faking the want in her eyes. My fingers tease her a bit, she's dripping, and the little noises she makes are only making me harder. "You can 'ave me." 

With that, I slam hard, home, and her body tenses up against mine as I bottom out inside of her. It takes all my self-control not to just lose myself in this moment and pound into her like an animal.

All that build-up, all the teasing, it's bloody well worth it. She feels unbelievable, so damn tight after coming twice, and now I'm the one letting out noises as she clenches around me. I'm just trying to remember how to breathe, fighting the urge to finish right then and there. It's like walking a tightrope, one wrong move, and I'll topple over the edge.

I'm just frozen solid for a good minute, it's only been a few weeks since I had a shag, but Kit's been waiting for months. I'd be a proper tosser if I just dove in without giving her a moment to get used to me, but bloody hell, it's tough. She's like pure heaven, hot, tight, wet, fits me like a glove. Just gotta hang on for another minute, get ahold of meself 'cause once I get going, I won't be able to stop.

My heart's pounding like a damn drum solo, and I'm battling the shakes, trying not to twitch too much. Looking down at her, and she's a sight for sore eyes. Arching her back a bit, lips parted taking in deep breaths. She's doing a better job at breathing than I am; the deep rise and fall of her chest says it's not pain clutching her, but maybe she just needs a minute to process. Makes two of us.

"K–Kit. You alright there, love?" My voice breaks a bit, and my gut's doing somersaults, keen to kick off the show. "Look at me, Kit. Lemme see them eyes of yours." 

It takes a sec but her eyes flutter open. Something about the way she's looking at me freezes me up, and it's got nothing to do with the fact we're naked in bed together and I've got my cock buried in her. Could drown in those eyes, I swear. I’m starting to wonder if she's got me under some sorta spell 'cause her hips nudge me forward, and I groan in frustration, trying to keep myself from thrusting too wildly into her. 

"Alright?" I need her to be alright 'cause the way she's squeezing my cock is sheer torture.

She gives a nod, her hand tousling through my hair, sweeping it outta my face, and there's a grin tugging at her lips. Then, she leans up for a kiss wrapping her arms around my neck, slow and sweet, a total departure from the rough, fast, filthy ones we've been trading. It’s amazing.

Kit wraps her legs around my waist the rest of the way, pulling me in even deeper. My breath hitches as the new angle hits all the right spots inside of her.

"Oh fuck," I moan, burying my head in the crook of her neck. "You’re so fucking tight."

"I know," she purrs, nipping at my ear. "Now, move already, go slow."

Fun fact, mate, telling a bloke to take it slow can be a real test for us in the best way. Some blokes dig it hard and fast for a quick buzz, but a slow, deep rhythm? That just lets us savor every bit of ya. It's like quality over quantity; both get the job done, but one takes its sweet time. I'm a fan of both, nothing like a fast and furious rendezvous with your girl against a wall 'cause you swiped a few minutes when you shouldn't have. It’s a thrill. But this? Being starkers in bed after some heavy foreplay and a couple of orgasms? That's the kinda shag where you glimpse someone's soul, and I can see hers.

She nudges me again with those lanky legs of hers, and I start moving, easing out nice and slow letting her feel all of me. No point in stifling my moans; she can have 'em. Got a feeling this peaceful spell between us won't last long. I give a shaky breath, groaning as I slide back in, a tad quicker than planned, but Kit's tugging at me, showing she's game as she pulls me in for another kiss.

"Fuck, you feel good!" She breathes against my lips, and I can't help but grin like an idiot. No way I'm hiding that.

"Is that right? How about this, then?" I snap my hips sharply, and she lets out a moan, burying her head into the bed. Strokes the old ego, seeing her like this, lost in pleasure, caught up in the moment.

"Oh, God… That’s perfect! Fuck! D-Do it again," She pants, wriggling on my bed. I give her a smirk and repeat the move, teasing out slow until she whines, then thrusting sharp and earning another breathy moan. 

Slamming home again gets her bucking against me, and I pull her in flicking my tongue against her lips. I feel her tremble each time I pull out and push back in. She's loving every second of this slower pace, and don't get me wrong, I'm loving it too, but I'm itching to crank things up. 

"Go faster," she pants, sweetest words I've heard yet, and like the lady wants, I step it up. "Harder," Easy now, darling.

Now, we’re getting somewhere, we're making a racket in this room, and all you can hear is our heavy breathing and that sound of skin slapping on skin. Kit's got this delicate, breathy way of gasping for air. Now, don't get me wrong, missionary's a classic, love being able to see her face, give her a peck, watch her tits bounce when I thrust into her. But you know, variety's the spice of life, innit? This girl, she's like a mind-reading Jedi or something, kissing and sucking on my neck and unwrapping her legs from me.

"Ben?"

I just groan into her neck, had a good rhythm going and she chucked it out the window, least she’s keeping them kisses on my neck coming, still touching me all over.

"Do something for me?"

"Anything, darin’" The words tumbling out of my mouth without a second thought. I'm up for whatever it takes to get this party started again; every second I'm not inside her hurts.

"In front of the mirror." 

What? I snap to attention, her eyes are just dark, like she's checking if I'm game. But I reckon my reaction gives her the green light. She's just dropped a bombshell without even realizing it. I sit up quick, dragging her into a kiss.

"Fuck you wherever you want, just say the word."

"Edge of the bed," Don’t need to tell me twice.

I give her soft lips a quick, eager peck before sliding over to the bed's corner, where this madcap adventure all kicked off. Taking a sec to catch my breath, I check myself out in the mirror. My chest's still pounding with excitement, hair all over the place, and my cocks standing tall, eager and slick. I ain't one for vanity, but I know I'm looking pretty decent like this. But something's missing, ain't it? I don't have to wait long; she slinks up behind me, snug against my back as she plants kisses on my neck. 

Her arms wrap around me, one hand tangling in my hair—I ain’t never gonna trim if this is the treatment it gets. The other hand finds its way to my cock and the throbbing gets more intense, stroking it like a pro while her lips, and teeth set my skin ablaze. The mirror captures every moment, cranking up the heat.

“God, you look so good like this, Ben.” She purrs giving my ear a little nip. The feeling's lush, but it's even better watching her hands roam over my chest, lips on my neck, her hair cascading over me? Feels like I'm the star of some flick, and Kit's my leading lady.

It's ace, no doubt, and I'm digging it, but I'm gagging for more. 

"Kit, you gonna keep playin', or you gonna jump on my cock?"

She flashes me a naughty grin before giving me a few strokes, her tongue poking out to lick her lips. She lets out the kinda giggle that girls only use when they’re trying to get up all riled up before letting go of my hair and dropping to her knees. I swear, my heart might give out right here and now. I grip onto the edge of the bed for support but all I get are linens, got a feeling I might need it. Her hand reaches up to cup my balls, gently massaging them and I swallow hard.

“Oh, fuck,”

My eyes are wide as saucers for two reasons. One: it always gives a bloke a pause to see a girl kneeling in front of him, and two: I catch a peek of her in the mirror. She's still wearing that skirt, it’s barely covering her arse, and that little top is gone too, she must have chucked it, fine by me, she’s got great tits. Her hair is a tangled mess, falling over her bare back. Fuck, I’m wishing I had my phone, I’d love a picture of this.

She doesn't even give me a sec to say anything; straight down she goes, taking my cock in her mouth. Fucking mint. She's ramped up the intensity this time, and I might sound like a right pig, but the thought of her giving my cock a good suck after I've used it on her? Mate, it's fucking mint, especially with those moans she ain't bothering to stifle. I'm just staring at our reflection, her skirt barely hiding that lush arse, head bouncing in my lap. 

"Holy shit, Kit," 

And looking down, the view's just as nice, her eyes open and she's gazing up at me with those blue and green eyes, and it's somethin' else. Dazed as an idiot, while she works me over like I'm a blooming lollipop. Thank God I let Jeff talk me into that party, I owe him drinks for a month, maybe two.

"Kit, not that this ain't bangin', but," I tilt her head up, and she releases my cock with an exaggerated pop that cracks me up a bit. "You wanted me to fuck you in front of the mirror, yeah?"

She grins at me like she's just hit the jackpot. "You looked so good, I wanted another taste." I stifle a laugh; her banter's gonna have me in stitches if I don't keep us focused. "Thought you'd like the view."

"Damn right, I do," I hoist her onto my lap, "But, here's the deal. I've got this absolute stunner of a girl dripping wet on my lap, and she's already given me a proper seeing-to. If I'm gonna cum again, it's gonna be inside her. Now, what's the sitch, do I need a wrap?"

She shakes her head, "IUD." 

"Good fuckin’ girl," 

"Tell me how much you want me, Ben.”

Her slender hands grab a hold of my cock again, and she eases herself over it. I'm aching to feel her wrapped around me after all this toying and teasing we’ve been doing.

“Fuck, love, I want you so fucking bad, wanna fuck you till you can’t bleedin’ stand.” 

I snatch her legs, pulling her down onto me, and deliver a hard thrust upward – it's like a burst of fireworks. She goes a bit stiff for a moment, her arms wrapping around my neck again, pressing those perfect tits into my face. I can't resist having another taste, I get a bit lost in it actually but that’s fine, Kit’s already on top of things.

She’s a natural on top, and she knows it. She's controlling the pace, the angle, everything, and I'm just along for the ride. Because that’s the magic of this position, it ain’t about speed; it's about depth. As soon s I get my wits about me again, I'm going at it hard, hitting every spot, feeling her cunt tighten around my cock with each thrust. She's holding onto me like her life depends on it, her pleasure maybe. I've got a gorgeous girl on my lap, riding me, mouth full of tit, and the cherry on top? I can watch the whole show in the mirror, it's like watching a live porn, and it's hot as hell.

That skirt of hers – bet she won't put it on again without remembering how I made her come tonight. I bet she can't even glance at it without getting all hot and bothered.

I'm thrusting up, slamming her down, and she's holding on tight, like a proper doll in my arms. 

"You love this, don’t you?" I ask after a solid thrust and a playful nip, making her squeak and tighten her grip, so I give it another thrust. "Tell me, Kit, you love me fucking you deep, my cock buried in you, don’t you?"

"I fucking love it, Ben! God, you feel so fucking good!"

"That's right, ride me, babe," I love it when she's all into it, all for me. "You're my good girl, yeah?"

"I'm your good girl," Would've settled for a simple 'yes' or a bit of filth, but hearing her echo it back, sends a jolt through my cock, and with the racket we're causing, it won't be long before she's worn me out. 

"Promise, I'll be your good girl!" 

God. She promises, eh? Her voice, all breathy and full of need, shaking a bit like I'm propelling her straight into another orgasm, and that thought? Well, it just does something to a bloke, knowing you've got that power over a woman; your woman. I'll take this over flying, super strength or laser vision any day. I can feel her walls tightening around me, her nails digging into my back as she rides me harder, faster.

"You gonna come for me again? That's what? Three?" Can't keep the cheek and wit out of my voice if I tried, feels too damn good to know I'll have made this girl come three times in one night, and I might manage one more, could be close though. "How about you turn around and enjoy the show with me, yeah? Turn around so you can watch me fuck you."

I ease up on the pace, nudging her to get her legs steady. It takes a bit of back-and-forth, but like déjà vu, we're right back in the same spot, and damn, is it hot? Watching myself sink in and out of her while seeing every expression of pleasure on Kit's face is almost too much to handle.

But I don't want it to end just yet, I reach forward and grab onto Kit's hips, guiding her movements as she starts riding me again. It’s slightly different position and so it hits different and it’s incredible. With each thrust, I pull back a little before pushing in deep again – making sure to hit that spot each time.

It’s so fucking good, that's why I wrap a hand around her neck, making her look straight into the mirror while I start thrusting up again, I want her to see what I see. Fuck it’s a show, her eyes are closed one moment and then snap back open as I thrust into her again. Her tits bounce with each movement and goddamn they look so fucking nice.

"Look at how goddamn stunning you are, bouncin’ on my cock. You're ready for another one, aren't you?"

Kit just gives a little nod, like the whole situation's a bit much for her – and fair play, it probably is. But she's loving it, no doubt about that. "Still my good girl?"

Another nod, and I'm close enough to lean in, nipping at her ear. She shudders, and I start marking up her neck. Anyone dares to give her grief on it, they'll be dealing with me and my fists. She feels like she’s mine. My grip tightens around her, and I'm putting in the effort. I'm wound up so tight I could snap, legs burning from the workout. 

Hell, watching us both in the mirror, I can see why folks dig it. Don't know why I never gave this a go, but I'm proper pleased Kit suggested it. She's practically done, and I'm not far behind, but I'm a stubborn git, and if I can get her off one more time, you bet I will.

I can feel myself getting close, but I want to make sure Kit gets there first. I reach between our bodies and start rubbing her clit, matching the pace of her movements on top of me. The way she moans into our kiss sends shocks to my cock, fucking hell. She jumps when I hit that little sweet spot of hers and just start playing with her, I’m not stopping till she’s ragged and coming for me again. And I know just what gets her off now, a mix of little circles and gentle taps, but either way, she's losing this battle for sure.

"That's it, baby. Come for me again. Show me how good you can be." She just whimpers with each little touch.

"Feelin' that, Kit? Got you right here, don't I?"

I keep whispering as I release her lips and tilt her head so she can catch the whole scene again, an’ soak it up like I am. She just nods and moans, not much else she can do from where she's at, so it's a proper sight when she reaches up and starts touching her own tits, squeezing and tugging at them like she knows exactly what turns me on. And I can't tear my eyes away from her. I can feel my balls tightening and my cock getting even harder inside of Kit. She's so tight, so hot around me and it's driving me insane.

"Damn, you're a goddamned dream right now, love," I say a bit rougher than intended, but I'm so damn turned on I can't control how it comes out. "Gonna play with those tits while I fuck you and play with your clit, are you?" 

“Ben!” Ah, so she can speak, it’s a bit high pitched but that just means I’m doing it right. “God, Ben! I’m gonna cum again!”

“Damn right you are, you’re gonna come right here, all over my cock” 

She's a right mess, begging for me to send her over the edge. I reckon I'll sleep like the dead after tonight. Been a while since I've had more than one go with a bird like this, and I gotta say, it's bloody amazing. I’m so fucking close. But I reckon it'd be a proper send-off if I can get her to join me for the ride, so I double down. Getting a bit more forceful with my hand between her legs, giving that sweet spot nowhere to hide.

I give her neck a little squeeze, just a tease, and when I do, she squeezes me tighter than ever. 

"Look in that mirror and tell me, you're my good girl."

“I’m your bad girl,” 

There she is with that attitude again, couldn't resist a bit of cheek even when I'm fucking her senseless.

Alright, sweetheart, I’ll play along. 

“Bad girl, huh? If you're gonna be bad, I'll treat you like it.”

I can feel her tremble and tense up as I lean in for a kiss, slipping my tongue into her mouth while giving her pussy a few quick and fast spanks. And mate, that's the ticket. She practically screams into my mouth, and it's like a damn explosion as she comes again. It's fucking brilliant, and it doesn't take much to send me over the edge with her. I slam her down onto my cock with everything I've got, while thrusting up into her, and then bam, I'm coming hard. 

She’s strangling my cock, walls clamping down as I come and come, fucking hell. It's the best fuck I've had in ages. Every time I touch her, she jumps, squirms, and squeezes me, milking every last drop out of my cum. Bloody-fucking-hell, it's fantastic.

“–Fuck! –Fuck! –Fuck!” 

Aw, Hell, that's me, making a scene, and I can’t be arsed to care. But that’s definitely Kit all but screaming: ‘Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!’ 

I mean, who wouldn't? You'd have to be daft not to enjoy fucking Kit. She's amazing in bed.

Hell don't think I've ever busted that much before. Takes a solid minute for the aftershocks to ease off, and by then, I'm completely shattered. Looks like she's done too, my hand slows to a stop between her legs and I pull her back onto the bed with me in a sweaty heap. Her body’s trembling against mine, and I can't help but smile at the thought of how many times I made her cum. 

The room's full of our breathing, and it smells like sweat and sex. I'm in desperate need of a shower, and I reckon she might want one too, if she can even walk, that is. Wouldn’t mind a brew either.

"Alright, love?" 

She gives me a little giggle and plants a quick one on me, slipping her hand through my hair again. God, I love that. 

First time all night she's kissing me like I'm more than just a quick fuck, like I'm her bloke, and it's sweet. Haven't had a steady girl in my life for a while, forgot how nice it is to have someone to just kiss after the orgasms fade.

"Fuck, I needed that." 

Can't help but chuckle. That makes two of us, though I reckon she needed it more than I did.

"Don’t let it go to your head babe, but couldn't tell you the last time I went twice in one go." The smirk on her face says it's all going straight to her head, and hey, she's earned it.

"Too late." Cheeky minx.

"You gonna tell me your name, now?"

I almost forgot she never gave me a proper name. She’s got me so wrapped up that I’ve gotta know. She looks at me like she's lost in thought. Then, she just shrugs.

"Come on, babe, I've earned a real name at least. Did right by you, didn't I?"

"I mean, I guess so..." Now she's just teasing, so I sling an arm around her waist and tumble us around so she’s on her back again, my cock slipping out of her making us both shudder.

"You reckon, yeah?" I kiss her again. "Got you off with my fingers, my tongue, and my cock, didn’t I?" She moans as I pepper her neck with kisses. "How many lads made you come three times in one go, huh?" She shrugs, but I know she's just teasing. But what did I say? Don't mess about with me. 

"You've got my damn cum dripping out of you, and you're gonna tell me I haven't earned your real name? What've I gotta do for that? Need another one?"

Love seeing her eyes widen when I give her nipple a little suck. "Think I won't do it?" I'm knackered, sure, but I'm stubborn as hell, and I want her name. "Come on, darling, tell me."

She's putting up a fight, but when I start trailing kisses down her stomach, she goes all still and squirmy again. 

"I fucked you good, didn’t I?" I say, dipping my tongue into her belly button. Seems she's a bit ticklish. Good to know. I keep at it, giving her hips some attention now. She looks like she's calling my bluff, nah, not me. So I give her another lick, and she practically jumps.

"Ben, are you serious?"

I chuckle a bit and tease her with a slower lick, and she jumps again, but not as much.

"Could've had you wriggling after that first one, you were so damn sensitive" That look in her eyes she’s giving me tells me she knows good and well I’m right. I'll just let that little ‘what if’ simmer and do the graft for me. 

“Wouldn’t have taken much to see you come again, could give it another go… Maybe this time I don’t give you a break…”

"Most guys are in a rush to get a girl out of their bed, not beg for her name.” She’s right there but most girls don’t make me feel like I’m gonna blackout from coming, “I don’t usually tell my one night stands anything specific."

"So let me take you out," She’s got a deer in the headlights look now, like she’s not sure if I’m serious, but I am.

"Really? Just like that? You want a date?"

"What's wrong with that? Never met a bloke who fucked you senseless and then wanted to wine and dine you? I mean, sure, the order's a bit arse-about-face, but how about it?"

She seems a bit taken aback, like she thinks I'm crazy or she's never been asked out after a romp. She's smart, sexy, and a right laugh, not to mention the new placeholder for the best sex I’ve ever had. So why not?

"A date?"

"A proper one. Dinner, movie, whatever tickles your fancy. I'll even brave meeting your old man," I add, with a grin. Most dads like me, hell, I made it to my twenties without meeting the wrath of anyone’s pop.

"You'd meet my dad?"

I crawl up until I've got her backed against the headboard, and she's got nowhere to escape. 

"If it'll land me that date, I'm game."

"You are stubborn. Was it really that good?" Pull her into a kiss, kinda kiss that leaves you breathless, though we’re both already a bit short on that.

"Darlin', can't remember the last time a girl left me speechless or got me off more than once. You're lucky I don't tie you to the bed," 

She seems to be realizing the type of stubborn bloke she's dealing with as she eyes the headboard and shoots me a look.

She gives me the ‘come here’ finger, and I lean in for a slow kiss. "I hate the movies."

I flash her a grin. "What've you got against the cinema?"

"It's crap for having a conversation and you’re supposed to ask what I like–"

“-I know what you like,” She rolls her eyes at me but I can see a bit of blush. “Alright, no cinema. Good for other things, though," I say with a wink, and she smirks and bites that lip of hers again. 

As the seconds tick by I'm starting to think she's not keen on going out with me, and honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about that. I like this girl. 

"Kit,"

She lets out a sigh and pulls me into a kiss, tangling her hands in my hair. The sleepy haze starts to settle over me, and then I almost miss it. She says it so quietly.

"Cassandra."

"Cassandra," I repeat, gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. "Was that so hard?"

"I'm stubborn too."

"I can see that.” I take her lips in a showstopping kiss, tongue dipping in to tase hers, maybe start some more mischief. “Come on, fancy a shower alone or want some company?"

Her smile is worth a million quid, and she gets up, pulling me along. "Maybe I should have some company just in case I stumble. I mean, I'm a bit wobbly on my feet."

"Looks like someone took good care of you," I say, noticing her slight unsteadiness. Without hesitation, I scoop her up in my arms, and she lets out a squeak but wraps her arms around my neck. I take us both to the shower. “Cassandra,” I like saying her name, makes her look different somehow. 

“Call me Love.”

Yikes! Guys, if you made it this far please let me know what you thought. When I tell you I was genuinely scared to post this here, I am 100% not kidding. And if you are an erotica wanderer and this story sounds familiar I will put your mind at ease now; this story is published on another website so if you see it on literotica, please don't panic it's me. Thanks again guys.

[absolutesort]

MILES & FRANKIE — NIGHT TWENTY-EIGHT.

location :  bedroom.

time :   late night, after the challenge on day one of casa.

featuring :  miles   /  @heatwayve

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

the girlies are pulling out the stops tonight. mali looks fucking fire, val looks fire, they’re all on their bombshell bullshit in their sexy little slips but frankie isn’t going to rise to it or attempt to best them at a game she doesn’t even need to play. she’s not the one trying to graft her way back to the villa. there’s no way she’s getting the lingerie out for miles—instead, she’s so casual that it’s almost like she’s trying to prove something, maybe that this isn’t a thing and she’s not even trying to work for it, an oversized tie-dye shirt for a roller derby team she joined for six months (then predictably dropped out of) thrown on over her tweetie pie boy shorts. not the bojack ones, those would only make her think about callie, and right now she’s trying her best to just push all thoughts of a certain hot surfer chick out of her head and live in the moment.  “oi. casanova. scooch your cute ass over,” frankie announces, when she finds miles in the bed she's allowed him to convince her into sharing. her hands briefly fasten around his hip as she leap-frogs over him and onto the other side of the bed, narrowly avoiding kicking him in the head as she does so. her hands find his, linking their fingers as she locks her arms and pushes up from her knees to stand above him. “are you good at airplanes? i don't mean like, getting on planes, i mean the kind where you like, put your feet on someone’s hips and lift them in the air.” he looks like he'd be good at it — he's got strong legs. footballers legs. “let's try it.” 

miles o'sullivan

maybe he's a simp, but he thinks frankie looks fucking fire. it's just kind of fun to see her in the way that she might look, like, lounging around her flat or whatever instead of this surreal television minefield they've stepped into, which makes nothing seem real. probably doesn't help with the reality check that he's just seen a few girls parade by in their lingerie. where the fuck is he? frankie in her huge roller derby shirt, loudly bossing him around seems very real, though, like they could just be vibing around the house. "oi," he echoes, grinning, "this the part where you tell me you snore? or you're a huge blanket hog? might as well have it out in advance, warn me now so we don't wind up having a row about it later." he's just in boxers, how he'd sleep at home, not too much thought into it except for the fact that he always runs a bit hot at night, not sure if he should warn frankie that she's about to be curled up next to a furnace. he's had partners complain about that before. "what, you auditioning for the circus or something?" he laughs. not exactly the kind of foreplay he was envisioning, but he can fuck with it, hands laced together with hers before he positions himself on her hips. "alright," lowers his voice like a radio controller, "ready for takeoff."

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

sharing a bed with a cute, half-naked athlete is definitely a recipe for wandering hands. at least with her rules in place, she’s safe in the knowledge that miles won’t try anything. but whether she’ll try anything is another story, one she doesn’t particularly want to dwell on, because that’s almost like telling her not to press a big red button. “don’t snore. sometimes blanket hog. have been known to sleep talk on occasion. it’s like, even when i’m unconscious i won’t shut up.” she’s making a point of not checking him out, eyes never straying from his face. “what are you like to sleep with? big spoon or little?” miles seems like the kinda guy who’d love a jet pack, someone’s arms curled around him keeping him safe, but she could vibe with the other way, too. “i’m a switch.” feels a bit scandalous, considering the heat of almost every other interaction they’ve shared, so she pokes her tongue out for good measure. friends, sure. until one of them does something selfish and fucks it. frankie readjusts his feet against her hips, getting them comfy, before she pushes up, airborne, unsteady for a few seconds as she hovers above him. she wasn’t in the athletics squad for all those years to fail at the first hurdle, though ; her balance is pretty golden as soon as she's straightened out like a plank, refound her centre of gravity at the point where she connects with his skin. “i did actually really wanna, as a kid. tried the whole run away with the circus thing. it didn't work.” her voice is half-strained, since his feet are pressing against her abdomen, palms sweaty where they connect with the heels of his hands to keep her balanced. “snuck into one of their trailers when they came to naples actually, but only got as far as cape coral before they realised they had someone else’s kid and dropped me off at the station house. my dad was pissed. okay— the real test is whether you can take your hands away and hold it.” 

miles o'sullivan

"yeah, the sleep talking thing tracks. i was about to say that i can't really imagine you bein' quiet," he jokes with a wry smile, looking at her the entire time, even as she refuses to look back. "maybe if i talk in my sleep and you talk in your sleep, we'll have, like, weird subconscious conversations. wish i could ask us what we'll talk about. probably sound even smarter than when we're awake," he adds thoughtfully. grin widens when she asks him about his own sleeping habits, "gonna spoon me, are you?" he laughs, eyebrows arching higher on his forehead, "i dunno. can be a bit of a switch, too, love being spooned, like . . . got a nice warm backpack on, but it's kind of nice to be like, the protector, too, you know ? makes me feel all tough," there's a not of irony to his voice, like he's obviously kidding around with such a ramble, but it's true that's he's been prone to play out either role in a spooning scenario. and in a sex scenario, actually, can be a bit of a switch, there, too. but she didn't ask. "stop, don't say anything that'll make me laugh right now," he instructs her with humor in his voice, though it's a little strained from the pressure of holding her up. not that it's difficult or she's particularly heavy, it's more about the act of balancing her. "and that's horseshit. there's no way you did that. and made it that far? how old were you?" miles asks, practically having to hold his breath to hold in a laugh. he'll never back down from a challenge, of course, so at her request he's cocking an eyebrow, fingertips extending out so that he can break free of their hold. "okay, hold real fuckin' still and don't be funny right now," he breathes, a picture of concentration. there's really nothing to prove, it's just for fun, but miles enjoys the challenge of it, just something goofy to keep them occupied until they're lights out.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

her laughter’s hard enough to almost topple her balance, if it wasn’t for his hands keeping her stable. “we should get one of those apps that like, registers sound and movement and records what you say in your sleep.” she heard about a guy doing that, and then mixing all of his weird recorded sleeptalk into a song he was working on. their conversations when they’re awake are fucking absurd. sleep conversations could get pretty incriminating. “fuck off!” she snaps back, almost toppling again. it’s not even a thing. she’d spooned seb when she shared with him, although admittedly seb wasn’t trying to fuck her.  “what are you protecting me from? josh’s stanky farts?” he’s got good arms—she’d sleep well wrapped up in those—and while she might not have asked, the implications of her question are definitely there. “but yeah, it’s good to know you’re flexible.” it’s sweet, watching him trying not to laugh, the kick it gives her whenever he tells her she’s funny like a hit of dopamine on par with being told she’s sexy, because sure, getting told you look good is great, but it’s genetic. personality’s inherent. it’s more personal somehow. “i swear to fuck, i’m not bullshitting. it was only like, an hour away by car, but my dad doesn’t drive. he had to get three busses to come and get me.” when frankie pictures family holidays, she thinks of a greyhound bus station, her head in marco’s lap, goofy sunglasses, gift shop baseball caps, candy coloured hair braids swarming with knits that you have to cut clean out of your hair.  “i was eight. leo packed me like, a bunch of rice crackers and sunny d in a bindle like fuckin’ pingu. he’s also the one that ratted me out, though, so fuck that guy.” he’s her favourite person in the world. even saying ‘fuck him’ has her grinning. “you ever tried the whole run away from home crap?”

frankie’s balance is more than decent. she can hold her own on a skateboard, is competent enough at surfing, but on miles? she’s unsure how she’ll hold up. plus, if his legs aren’t braced right and wobble, he’ll have a knee in the face in no time. “don’t be funny?” that feels like an impossible task, but she’ll try it. “how about you don’t be a pussy?”  regardless, she mimes zipping her lips when he releases her hand, both of them gripping his ankles to counter a brief moment of instability. his concentration face has her stomach pulling with a laugh. a small wobble, then she’s flat in the air, streamlined, arms out by her side as she balances above him, wide-eyed and glorious, high on adrenaline and the unsteady feeling of being a second from falling. “holy fuck!” she hollers, grabbing his feet again to steady her, before slowly releasing her hands. “not to get all rachel mcadams on your ass but i’m literally a bird right now. dream team!” 

miles o'sullivan

miles is fascinated by frankie's runaway circus recruit story, pure amusement on his features as he looks up at her. "i guess it's true, then," miles grins, "you've always been trouble." it's mad cute, though, picturing her walking around at age 8 with a little bindle slung over her shoulder, way too much personality for someone that pint-sized, most likely. he feels like they probably would've been good friends, him easily roped up into any of her harebrained schemes under the guise of a good time. sitting at the back of the class talking shit, a teenagerhood that would have them partners in after-school detention times. miles nods, but only slightly, afraid to move his chin too much and lose balance, "yeah, but i ate all my snacks off the bat and went home hungry within twenty minutes. turned out my brother was following me the whole way anyway, catches up with me as i'm headed back askin' me if i'm really giving up already. fucker," a slightly out-of-breath exhale punctuates the narrative. it's increasingly difficult to keep up the conversation along with any witticism as frankie tries to keep her balance, and they've both had a fair bit to drink tonight. he's trying his best, but he can't help but crack up when she's hollering out and soaring above him, taking their ridiculous act with a certain measure of serious determination. as expected. miles doesn't think this girl does anything by half. so, when she inevitably wobbles, miles is pretty powerless to do anything to stop it, his reaction time too delayed as his hold on her waist slips, sending frankie toppling downward. miles can hardly speak through all of his laughter, trying to catch his breath. "are – " another bark of laughter that cuts off his speech, "you okay ?"

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

almost like deja-vu in reverse, she feels herself falling before it happens, a pitching in her stomach at the sudden sensation she’s on unsteady bearings, then her body falling headlong into the mattress, knee connecting with some solid part of him, fist connecting with her own face, a shooting pain pulling at her hip from where it’s found some part of him. “ow! fuck!” her groans are only half-hearted, laughter stabbing in her abdomen as she wheezes against the pillow. “yeah. i’m good! are you okay? definitely kneed something on the dismount.” she has to check she still has all of her teeth, lip swelling where she’d bitten it. great. “is my lip bleeding? i think i just punched myself in the face.” for a moment, her laughter subsides, settled beside him, the sound of his laughter rich and warm, her ears hot with the swell of it. her own laughter’s dying from a full on riptide to a dull bubble in a rockpool, breath slowing, pulse slowing with it, suddenly conscious of her hand on his chest, presumably put there to brace her fall. she can count the places where they’re tangled, has the brief urge to make it more places, to tug him against her completely, though the thought dies before it can make it past conception. what if the way their conversations had seem to bounce off each other like they were both conversing in a secret language was because he could actually read her mind? can he tell what she’s thinking now? blink twice if you can hear me. okay, nothing. that’s good.  swallowing thickly, frankie rearranges her limbs so that they’re no longer wrapped around miles, feeling cooler when she isn’t centimetres from the warmth of his skin. is he always that warm? “do you have a fever or something? your skin’s like, really hot.” laughter’s breathy on her lips when she reaches out again to lay the flat of her palm against his chest to check she hadn’t imagined it. “yep. still roasting. you’re like a space heater.”

miles o'sullivan

wind’s knocked out of him as she knees him in the stomach on the way down, elbow jammed at his throat, a whole tangle of erratic limbs as frankie makes contact with him in her less-than-graceful fall – his fault, mostly. he’s laughing when he catches his breath, though, grinning jovially through groans of pain. “ i know i don’t act like it on the pitch, but i can take a hit, ” he laughs, as if she’s ever seen him on the field to actually call him out on his oscar-worthy penalty performances. still, he’s definitely had worse than this, and he’s just glad that she’s still in the same good spirits that he is about the entire thing. “ fucking idiot, ” he grins, though he’ll lean in slightly to take her chin into his grip, tilting her head toward him so he can get a proper look at her lips. time seems to slow for a moment while he’s there, everything’s happened on fast-forward and now they’re putting it in reverse, thumb tracing her lower lip gently as he shakes his head. her hand’s on his chest, far too close in a way that feels borderline intoxicating for a guy that’s already pledged to her that he’s going to be able to control himself tonight. he should’ve known that she’d never make it so easy on him, even inadvertently. “ no blood. maybe swollen, though. does that hurt ? ” he asks, eyes lingering on hers before he draws his hand back – before she can call him out for staring. blood’s running a little hotter now, thinking of more ways they could get tangled up, and luckily she’s drawing back too before he can think a little too long about it. 

smile reaches his eyes again when she asks him about his body temperature, though, playfully moving back closer, an end to any awkward moment. “ yeah, it’s so fucking annoying. my brother used to always whine about having to share a bed with me on family trips ‘cause i’m like, abnormally hot-blooded or something. ” a lift of his shoulders, indicating that he doesn’t really know how to explain it. “ but if you get cold easily, then i’m basically perfect. ” he has no idea what she’s like, but she’s from florida, right? hopefully they like it warm. 

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

“fucking idiot? wow, that’s rich. you know you’re one to talk considering—” her voice cuts off when he takes her chin in his hand, a catching like the latch of a door inside her stomach in a way that makes her want to peel back her skin and open herself completely. she swallows hard, hopes he doesn’t hear the way her breath catches when he rolls his thumb over her mouth. even when he’s looking out for her he’s being a fucking tease. the distance between the two of them’s too small, her eyes dark, and she has to draw open her mouth, snap her teeth and bite at the air (narrowly missing his hand) the second his grip draws away to tug this moment back into the realm of fun and easy and something they can laugh about, and not something that’ll end with his fingers in her mouth.  “stings a bit. it’ll be fine. why, you wanna kiss it better?” it slips out without consideration. he’d probably take her up on it, too, but they’re being good, even if it’s challenging, blood hot beneath the skin every time a part of him touches her. it’s a good thing she likes the challenge.  “yeah, no. it’s nice. some weird jacob black level shit, but nice.” it’s about as close as she’ll get to complimenting him right now, when she’s trying to level her thoughts, trying not to think about what sleeping with his warm arms curled around her might feel like. “oh my god, you have six tattoos!” it comes seemingly from nowhere, but that’s the way frankie’s brain works, darting between topics like fairground bumper cars with seemingly no linear progression. it’s a lucky distraction, too. she doesn’t want to get roped into a conversation about how hot miles is. that feels like a pr nightmare. “the challenge! you said you have six tattoos. you gotta talk me through them.” and considering he sleeps in next to nothing, she won’t have to look far to find them.  “guided tour. even if the reasons you got them are crap. nothing’s embarrassing unless you give it the power to embarrass you, c’mon.”

miles o'sullivan

“hey!” he laughs as the moment quickly dissipates. that doesn’t mean he’s going to easily forget the look in her eyes, though, her gaze darkening and, well, frankie actually speechless for a few moments in time. it’s a tease having to continue to be so close to her, moments like this ending with a quick snap of her jaw. miles flicks at her nose with the tip of his fingers playfully, “watch it.” she doesn’t fucking stop, though, and her next comment has him groaning. “god, you are a fucking tease,” miles laughs, because just as she’s tried to bite him to get him away from her lips, she’s inviting him in again and even if he’s somewhat aware of the situation, he’s way too smitten to not be drawn right back to it. “i do, yeah,” he admits, unable to stop the slight smirk that works his way onto his lips, “but would you stop me?” considering she was so strict about her rules, but once again, miles is getting the inkling that these rules aren’t for him to follow. doesn’t want to push too hard, though, try and make a move and get met with embarrassing rejection that’ll just dead the intensity that they have going on right now. the potential energy of it makes him feel alive, the tension still so fucking palatable between them while her body’s still inches away, yet curved like it would fit into his like a puzzle piece. his palms are practically itching to pull her closer, can’t stop thinking about it. is he really supposed to be good? “we haven’t got a full moon in here this week, have we?” he jokes. 

miles follows frankie’s line of thought instantly without her having to explain herself, but she does anyway. he figures she probably has to do that quite a bit, but that it’s probably also pretty rare that she cares to. “c’mon. do i look like i get embarrassed easily?” they are mostly stupid, though. he flexes, showing her a rose on the inside of his left arm. “then, i got these…” on his left, he’s got a ferocious ass tiger and a, not disproving the jacob black theory, a moon, and then some lyrics. “these are from that duran duran song . . . all you need is now?” miles says, “my brother loves this song. whenever my parents were having a row, he’d bring my sister and i downstairs and put some records on. we’d blast this shit. he’s got the next line.” 

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

frankie wonders if there’s like, some kind of record for the amount of times you can get called a tease on this show. she’d hazard a guess that she’s beaten it tenfold. it feels like moments like this one exist within the golden hour, that sunny afternoon warmth despite the fact that it’s impossibly late, too late to even tell what time it is, though if the other islanders are still talking around them, she hardly notices, hands locking around his shoulders to push her further up the bed. “i know you do.” when she says it like that, is it a fact or a weapon, grin on her lips sharp as a stanley knife as she presses two fingers against his mouth, as if to seal it off.  already, she’s nodding her head yes at his question, but the sound that leaves her mouth is “no”, mixed signals shot like paint balls whenever the lines are drawn in the sand about what’s permissible within the rules callie’s set her, and in turn, the rules she’s drawn around miles. but at this point, she isn’t even sure it’s for callie’s benefit, more like some twisted game to see how much she can make him want it, how long he’s willing to wait. “only full moon i saw was josh’s when i lost that bet,” she winces. “i’m absolutely owed a rematch at some point.”

her hands are still on his shoulders, but when he starts listing off his tattoos one moves to trace each inked shape with her index finger, a map of the people he’s been. “yeah, i know them. that song, i’m not as familiar with, though. i like hungry like the wolf and girls on film.” probably pretty pedestrian taste. god, is she fucking predictable? frankie softens at the mention of parents rowing, the hand on his tattoo sinking to squeeze at his fingers. “okay, i have a few…” fidgeting, she draws out her arm, points to an outline of a husky cross. “that’s my dead dog, wilbur.” she doesn’t linger long, pointing out various stick and pokes in quick succession. “that’s a fun little racoon in sunglasses… this one, the waves, i got that when i worked on a yacht in the med. this one crew were the tits, we all got them together… uh, this…” she slides her hand beneath her top to cover anything before pulling it up (not wanting to flash miles and give him an aneurysm) and slides her finger along the skin beneath her boob. “fuck the patriarchy. not a swiftie reference, i got it when i was like sixteen.” although it seems pretty cringey now—but it’s only cringe if you allow yourself to feel cringed out.  “ghostface from scream…” she points him out on her thigh. “i just think he’s so sexy. the heart on fire..." she points out the red outline on her hip. "love is always super intense and passionate, for me. the cherub thing i just saw on instagram and liked and then the sun is from the rider waite tarot deck. two of my brothers have it too, just to the left of the sternum.” she’s not into tarot, it was just a cool illustration, and she wanted them to have something together. “oh yeah…” she rolls over in the bed, pulling the back of her shirt down enough that he can see the ram just below her shoulder blades. “aries, or whatever.” she looks back over her shoulder at him, grinning. "look at us. we're like someone's abandonned etch-a-sketch."

[windy-babe]

I saw your "Hunter would listen to emo music from the 2000's in the human realm", i love him, he's cute, but have you consider my "Hunter totally would be a pathetic little swiftie"?

[honeystwiggypeach]

Idk if you do angst to fluff if not just delete this but if you do can I request fem reader with bokuto where paparazzi takes pictures of him and some celebrity woman (super model athletic what ever you want) looking like they were kissing but really wasn’t and y/n see it’s getting really hurt and talks to bokuto about it but he pushed aside her feelings saying she being dramatic and that’s the life of dating a famous athlete and y/n gets really hurt and leaves for couple of days (like to a hotel etc) and bokuto is devastated and try’s to apologize to y/n for saying all that (if you can’t see bokuto being this way you can pick whoever you thinks fits)

Going public!

Bokuto x reader(angst to fluff!)

Ok it was a debate on wether I’d leave it as Bokuto or write it as Oikawa both would seem to act this way, both for different reasons though…this may also take me a second to write so!! Anyways idk how to actually write angry reader so very sorry if it’s bad and sorry for how long this took😭

Tw~ angst to fluff, cursing, cheating accusations, angry Bokuto, gossip magazines, reader experiences heartbreak over miscommunication, arguements? Idk how to tag this so just proceed with caution and let me know if I missed anything!!

It was on a day where he was supposed to be coming home, he shouldn’t have been getting out of a limo with some girl, he shouldn’t be kissing on her? He should be coming home to you. Obviously distressed after Akaashi had sent you the article all you could manage to do was curl up on the couch and cry, it hurt so fucking bad to see the love of your life be with someone else.

Everything had been going so well, your relationship was going amazing, you’d just bought a pent house together and he’d been telling you the night before about how much he missed and loved you…but that must have been a lie if he was so willing to be with another.

When he came home, he was tired, nothing like he normal was, normally he’d be overjoyed to see you practically jumping on you but he simply walked off to the bedroom shrugging off his jacket not even bothering to talk to you.

You could practically feel your heart breaking, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt maybe it was the angle, maybe he just had jet lag, but every time he got caught in scandalous photos before he’d be quick to call and explain things to you, even when he’d have jet lag he’d still walk up to you and hold you tight, and he was always in a cuddling mood when he was tired…something was wrong he only got like this when he was stressed and nervous.

You cautiously walked to the bedroom hearing him yelling at someone on the phone before shouting whatever and hanging up before he swung open the door.

“What’re you doing?” He asked you, and Bokuto normally would never ask you for a reason to see him.

You looked up at him with watery eyes, “are you cheating on me?” You ask him already fucking terrified of what his response will be.

He stares at you like it’s been the silliest question he’d heard, “I just uhm saw a photo and it looked like you kissing that model.” You whisper trying to fish the phone from your pocket.

“This again? Are you serious y/n?” He asks, and you know he’s probably just agitated but it makes you want to break out in tears, “I’ve told you a million times I’d never cheat on you, I love you a lot, what’s it gonna take for you to believe me?” He asks and in your mind it sounds a lot more offensive than he means it.

You show him the photo pointing at the caption asking him if it was true, “honestly y/n “ he sighs out “I think you’re over reacting, you know that it’s always going to be one scandal after another I told you, you can’t let these get to you” he tries to get you to see it the way he does, but he’s not doing good with his words, he’s trying to make you not take those photos so seriously especially when he knows it’s just photo after photo that’s going to break you’re heart which it’s only worsened by the fact that so far you’ve denied any offer at going public with your relationship that he’s made.

“Overreacting?” Yoh practically gasp out, “I’ll show you over reacting.” You tell him pushing past as you throw clothes into a suit case, that night was the first of three you’d spent in a little hotel room.

Maybe Bokuto was right and you were slightly overreacting, because you do know that he will always be in scandals and you can’t take them to heart or you’ll fall apart everytime he looks at you, but in some sense you wish he’d validate your feelings as well. The he went about telling you was horrible.

But two days later, Bokuto is knocking on the door, “baby?” He calls out, “Hinata told me you were here, can you let me in please I want to apologize.”

You roll your eyes as you sniffle a little, “no go away Bokuto” You huff.

“Baby please” he practically whines still knocking, “I’m really sorry I shouldn’t have said that”

You open the door and Bokuto practically falls forward before catching himself.

“I’m really sorry” he tells you as he squeezes you, “I shouldn’t have said it like that but it hurts to see you continue to get hurt by the magazines, when we all know no matter what I say they will still continue.”

“Maybe we should go public than” you mutter into his chest and he pushes you away with his arms wide smile on his face as he pulls out his phone, “don’t get me wrong though I’m still a little upset with how you phrased it.” The both of you giggle as he peppers your cheeks with kisses in apology.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

M.I.N.E

Request for my girl @therealmrsmbjordan​

Adonis Creed Imagine

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

AJC Finance is a globally known and relatively large financial firm based in LA. It’s percurred so much fame and notoriety because of its black male CEO—Adonis Johnson Creed. Adonis is one of the most highly paid CEOs in financial services, ranking at number 33 with a 27 million a year earning and an employee median pay of 136,357 a year. Of course, it wasn’t easy ending up where he is today being a black man in America but it all started when he was just 21-years-old working as a stockbroker for a company called D.H. Ross, employed under a black man named Oscar Hill. He taught Adonis everything he needed to know about money and management and that a stockbroker’s only job is to make money for himself. Soon after being hired, Adonis made a small fortune with his aggressive pitching style that brought in high commissions. Soon after, he decided to leave D.H. Ross and start his own financial company—not only because he wanted to do more for himself, but because D.H. Ross was corrupt and most of the stockbrokers there lived a lifestyle of sex and drugs. 

Adonis started his own firm at the age of 25 and it earned an exposé in Forbes. Hundreds of ambitious, young financiers of different nationalities and backgrounds flocked to Adonis’ company. Adonis became immensely successful within three years, earning him 22 million a year. In the beginning not many people knew that he was the late pro-boxer, Apollo Creed’s son. That too became a scandal of sorts because no one knew that Apollo Creed had a baby outside of his marriage with Mary-Anne who he has two older children by. Mary-Anne found Adonis after finding out his mother passed and raised him as her own who eventually became her youngest headache. Many people wondered why Adonis didn’t go the boxing route but he explains that he does it more so for his enjoyment, not to follow in his father's footsteps. Adonis was at once a rich kid and a street kid, the proud carrier of an illustrious heritage and an invisible man—a complex man who aims for what he wants. Like Mary-Anne says, Adonis retains his father's fiery personality. Short-tempered and impulsive, but good-natured with a tenacity that attracts others. He’s powerful, regal-like, yet heavy on the “don’t fuck with me.”

Adonis is very intelligent, crafty with his hands, quiet and kind, which women can appreciate. He’s so handsome that women practically throw themselves at him and would do just about anything to get an opportunity. It’s not only his brain, power, and beautiful smile, it’s what he’s blessed with between his muscular thighs that makes him more sought after than pure gold. Whether he is dressed up in his expensive tailored suits and sweaters or dressed down in his Nike activewear, women are flocking either way. Dating and getting pussy was a constant for Adonis but as he’s gotten older, he has become more particular and that’s where his wife of five years, Brittany steps in. Brittany had Adonis’ nose wide open the first time he saw her when he was moving into his new apartment complex in LA—although the first encounter wasn’t a pleasant one. Adonis has a habit of playing his music loudly while boxing on his body bag. Brittany lived above him so the music was probably vibrating her floor causing her to toss and turn in her sleep. 

Bang Bang Bang 

That was the sound of her pounding on his apartment door at 1 am. Adonis flings open his door with rage at first—ready to curse out whoever thought it was a good idea to go banging on his damn door but as soon as he saw Brittany standing there with her pretty face frowning, a white camisole with no bra, and sleep shorts that had ridden up her thick thighs with bare feet and white painted toes his expression morphed into that of complete interest. From the purple satin bonnet on her head down to her toes, Adonis was openly checking her out. Ironically, G-Unit-Wanna get to know you was playing in the background from Adonis’ apartment. 

I want to get to know you

I really want to fuck you, baby

I'm lost in your lovin'

I'm simply going to drive you , crazy

I want to be your lover

I want to get to know you, baby

I'm lost in your lovin'

I'm simply going to drive you , crazy…

Adonis licked his lips and said, “What’s up?”

What’s up?

That’s what she said before she pointed into his apartment. 

What’s up is that loud ass music and this banging noise coming through my floor. I’m trying to sleep and this has been an every night thing with you since you moved in a week ago. I’ve endured it enough.

“My name is Adonis, what’s your name?” 

Everything she said completely went over his head. She blinked at him like he lost his damn mind and folded her arms across her chest. Adonis found himself following the path her arms took before they slowly ascended to meet her brown eyes that were smoldering at the moment. He was enjoying the heat she was giving off. 

Did you even pay attention to a word I said? 

“Not gonna lie, nah, I wasn’t. Forgive me for being distracted by your attire, beautiful.” 

His words seemed to throw her off and from the way Brittany  raised a single brow while really looking at Adonis for the first time, she seemed to like what she saw too. 

“Still ain’t give me that name I asked about,” Adonis walked past his door and stood in front of Brittany. She quickly admired the way his pectorals and eight pack abs popped out of his white beater before bringing her eyes to his again. 

B

“B. is that short for something?” Adonis asked before cracking a smile.

Are you going to turn your music down and stop banging your fists against the wall?

“If I tell you yes, will you tell me your name?” 

She contemplated his words before unfolding her arms, giving into his proposition. 

Yes.

“Then I’ll turn my music down, and I’ll stop using that,” Adonis steps aside and shows Brittany his body bag hanging in his wide open living room. 

Okay… I’m Brittany. 

“Are you always this mean and mouthy when you meet people for the first time, Brittany?”

That frown was back. 

“You could have asked nicely at first but instead you come banging on my door like the police.” 

Rightfully so since you’re so goddamn inconsiderate of everyone living here with your loud ass music and punching. You keep me up in the middle of the night, I bang your door. Fair trade. Goodnight.

“Wait,” Adonis was catching up to Brittany while she was just about to climb the stairs back to her place, “listen, I’m sorry that I kept you up all these nights, it won’t happen again, I promise...can I take you out to dinner to make up for all those nights?”

No, but thanks though.

Adonis didn’t like being rejected but he respectfully let her go even though in the back of his mind he planned on trying again. A few weeks had past and she shot down his advances from that time five years ago. It took for one night when Adonis spotted Brittany coming home from a night out, dressed in a sexy black slip with black heels and her hair styled in six stitch braids with a full face of soft glam makeup. She smiled at him and they talked for a bit. Adonis asked her out to dinner again and Brittany accepted. Time generously passed and rings were secured, Brittany becoming Mrs. Creed. She was there while his company became what it is today. It’s almost their fifth year anniversary and Adonis comes up with the idea of the ultimate Asia excursion. The focal point of the trip is Phuket but he wanted to visit Hong Kong, Tokyo, Bali, and Singapore. If only he could sneak away from work sooner so they could leave in his private jet. Brittany is excited and already packed for the getaway. Adonis has a few things packed but not much since work was always knocking on his door. 

____________________________________

Brittany Creed was awakened from her slumber around 7:45 am with soft, tender kisses against her cheek. The kisses were so gentle and loving that it made her shiver with anticipation for more. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer—notes of pineapple, black currant, birch, amber and musk filled her nostrils. Sexy and seductive, strong and powerful—that scent has her opening her eyes to the sight of her husband smiling down at her. Brittany licks her lips to speak but her husband's pillow soft lips crashed into hers while he pulled her closer. Brittany wrapped a single arm around Adonis’ well-built shoulders and pulled him down on top of her to increase the intensity of the kiss. 

He slowly drew his lips back to admire her wearing one of his pinstripe dress shirts on for a night gown and her silk bonnet on her head. The top few buttons of the shirt were undone and revealing smooth brown skin for him to kiss. With his lips trailing down the center of her chest, Brittany could feel him growing ridged against her inner thigh. It was so solid. His fingertips played with the opening of his dress shirt on her, the fabric brushing against her hard nipples. With a bite of her pouty bottom lip, all she could think about right now was her man undressing her further and sucking on her nipples. With the way he was pulsating against her leg he could use a release. 

“Goodmorning, Hubby.” 

Adonis looks up at her through his curled lashes, “Morning Wifey.” 

“Don’t you have to get ready for work? Hmm?” She says with a single raised brow, “I feel your dick brushing against my thigh…”

“You know how hard I get in the morning...when I roll over and see you laying next to me my shit just thickens…”

Brittany gives Adonis a few more kisses before sitting up in bed, “I know, I’ve spent plenty of mornings between your legs with it in my mouth...remember?”

“I could use a reminder, baby,” his seductive voice was almost convincing.

Right when he was about to show her just how hard he is his work cell started ringing. Adonis exhales, his forehead pressed against hers. 

“Duty calls,” Brittany says with a slight smirk even though she truly didn’t want him to go, “You could just stay home...right? I mean, we have an entire getaway planned. I'm sure the company will understand, babe.” 

“Not with how busy my schedule is today. Let’s pick this up later, Aight?”

“I’ll just wait for you...watching the hours tick by slowly,” Brittany pouts. 

“I’ll be home before you know it.”

“You’ll be too far, leaving me all alone.”

Brittany wrapped her arms around her body, the smell of his cologne still woven into the fabric of his dress shirt. It felt so smooth against her skin. Adonis sits up in bed to press the power button on his cell to mute the ringing. Standing, the view of his back all the way down to his thighs coming into view. Thank god for taking his time with him. Brittany watched Adonis walk away towards the bathroom. Stretching, Brittany stares at a chair in the room situated next to Adonis’ walk-in closet. A tailored suit for him to put on for work is already laid out. It’s a slim fit double breasted black suit with gold cufflinks, a white dress shirt and a white and black tie with a bandana pattern. His Christian Louboutin black dress shoes are neatly placed on the floor beneath the chair. 

Getting out of bed, Brittany walks to their master bathroom. Pushing open the door further, steam wafting out of the door and the long, rectangular mirror above their double sink foggy, Brittany enters the bathroom. The sensual sight before her eyes has her feet planted firmly against the tile flooring and her heart racing. She didn’t know what left her breasts heaving in anticipation—is it the water cascading down his sinewy frame like a stream over rocks? Is it his firm yet strapping back that tapers down to his muscular ass? Or is it the way his v-cut glistened from the water all the way down to his burgeoning erection swinging between his thighs? 

Brittany steps closer to the glass and knocks. He was in the middle of rinsing his face off when he heard her. Turning, head beneath the shower water, Donnie smiled at her. Brittany returned the smile with a bite of her lip. She went to use the toilet, allowing Donnie to finish up. After using the bathroom, Brittany washed her hands before brushing her teeth and cleansing her face. Just when she finished, Adonis exited the shower with his towel in hand. Brittany leaned her butt against the sink and watched her husband towel dry. He started with his neck, then went to his back, chest, abs, and now he was working that towel from his muscular ass around to his dick. 

“I know that face,” Adonis says, “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you so you can join me, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” Brittany slowly walks up to Adonis, her hands stroking his warm chest before reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Brittany leaned in for a kiss—a slow, kiss with lots of tongue and lip sucking. Both of Adonis’ hands came up to hold her face, his towel falling to the bathroom floor. She could spend hours kissing his thick lips. Adonis pulled away, gazing at Brittany’s drunken face with a half dimpled smirk. 

“You’re not gonna let me leave this bathroom, are you, B?”

“Not looking like this,” Brittany’s hands smoothed down Donnie’s hard abs, “Baby...do you really have to go into work today? I mean...really? You’re the CEO. Can’t you just...call in and...we can make that trip sooner than later?”

“Baby,” Adonis kisses Brittany’s forehead, “Today requires me to attend meetings and I need to have that done before I am gone an entire two weeks. You know how it is, girl, I promise, I’ll be home at a decent time and we can leave, Aight?”

Brittany rested her forehead against his chest before breathing in his scent, “Kay…”

“I love you, don’t act like that. Smile...for me?”

His soothing voice vibrated his chest and it caused Brittany to shiver with need. Pulling away, she walked out of the bathroom, Adonis following behind her. Laid back against the bed, Brittany watched Adonis apply lotion to his body before getting dressed. She will never get over how good this man looks in a suit. Good enough that she didn’t want any other bitch to witness it for themselves. Adonis sprays himself down with his favorite cologne and applies his Rolex to his wrist. 

“You’re looking sexy,” Brittany says, “Don’t make me show up to work, Adonis...put those secretaries of yours in check.” 

Adonis chuckles handsomely, “Who do I belong to?”

“Me.” 

“Exactly,” Adonis fumbled with his tie, “I don’t pay that shit any mind. I’m yours, and you’re mine.” 

“I know they look...wish they could have what I’m having every night...” 

“Hmm...that’s true. I can’t control their eyes, baby girl.”

Adonis groans. 

“This damn tie, I can never get it—“

“I got you Hubby,” Brittany lifts from the bed and walks to get to Adonis. She grabs up his tie, pulling him closer, his body pressed against hers. 

“The things I could be doing to you right now…” Brittany whispers before tightening his tie. 

“Keep that same energy when I get back.” 

Adonis steps away to admire himself in the mirror. Grabbing his work satchel, phones, wallet, and keys, Adonis is ready to head out for work. Brittany leads the way out of their master bedroom and down the stairs to their luxury penthouse before entering the kitchen. Adonis was just going to grab a bagel with cream cheese to settle his hunger but Brittany is making black coffee with brown sugar and she’s in the fridge pulling out a carton of eggs, heavy cream, waffle mix, and some left over berries. 

“Sit, I’ll whip you up some breakfast before you leave.” 

Adonis takes a seat at their kitchen island, removing his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. 

“I have an entire Asian excursion planned for us. I know how much you’ve been wanting to go to that rooftop infinity pool in Singapore.” 

Brittany turned towards Adonis giving him a radiant smile with white teeth and twinkling eyes that had him grinning in return.

“All of this for me? Now I really have to make sure I packed everything I need. I have to wait at home for this?!! Babe,” Brittany pouts. 

“We’re leaving tonight. I have the jet set up for us too. Just the two of us, baby.” 

Brittany went to work making the eggs. She did enough for the both of them and added a little cheese since that was Adonis’ favorite. With that set to the side she checked on the waffles. Belgium waffles with powdered sugar, berries, and maple syrup. Usually, she would do red velvet since Adonis loves red velvet but that would take much longer. Adonis sipped on his coffee and watched Brittany plate the food. His eyes wandered down to her bare feet with toes painted white. She always looked good enough to fuck in the morning. His hips thrust a little in his seat because he could feel himself growing yet again with just a simple sweep of his eyes over her frame. 

“Eat up,” Brittany says while sitting Adonis’ plate in front of him with warm maple syrup in a glass gravy boat with a glass ladle. She sat next to him and tucked into her food as well. They both have the perfect view of LA from their kitchen since the penthouse is so wide open with ceiling to floor windows. 

“Even eating your food has my dick hard,” Adonis bites a piece of waffle off of his fork while staring at Brittany with lust filled eyes. 

Brittany licks maple syrup from her lips before leaning over the kitchen island, her hand resting in Adonis’ lap. She smoothed her hand up his thigh before cuffing his crotch with her delicate hand. She did all of this while watching his expressions. His dark brown eyes smoldering, jaw clenching, and breathing uneven. 

“Damn, baby,” Brittany gripped his length, “You’re nice and fat down there…”

“Brittany,” Adonis chewed on his waffle and swallowed with difficulty each time she palmed his erection. He closed his eyes and widened his legs so she could feel him up more. If only she could feel how tight his balls are.

“This all for me?” She toyed. Adonis has a hard gaze set on her.

“You thought I was gonna let you leave without a little taste?” She says. 

Brittany was up and off of her stool. She squeezes between Adonis and the kitchen island before sensually lifting the bottom of his dress shirt up her waist to reveal her pussy. Bringing one leg up to rest on his sturdy thigh, Brittany parts her pussy lips to show him exactly how wet and creamy she is. Adonis licked his bottom lip slow while his eyes didn’t flicker away from her pussy. 

“Damn...pussy wet as fuck, Brittany,” Adonis’ dick jumped the minute he went to stroke her pussy lips, “fuck, girl...pussy fat too.”

“Yes—

“You said you want a taste? Come taste this…”

Adonis went to work unfastening his pants. Brittany brings her leg down and she was on her knees looking up at him wrapping his thick fingers around his shaft before whipping it out. He was crazy hard. Veins like a work of art all thick along his length. His tip was nice and fat and his slit was leaking pre-cum. With his pants down further, his balls filled with all that cum sat round and heavy. Smooth, brown, tasty, wide, and long. So many other ways to describe his beautiful dick—that work of art. She’s been on that dick in plenty of positions and still to this day staring at it amazed her. After all, he did teach her how to take it. Yes, it was Adonis who taught her everything he knows. He taught her exactly how he likes to be pleased. Her shy, quiet energy was taken as innocence...but she’s not really innocent. Now, she was about to suck his dick just how he loved it sucked. 

“You know what to do, baby, take care of this dick.”

Brittany grabs him up, lining her lips up with the tip of his dick. She began placing kisses all over the tip of his dick, that pre-cum coating her lips like gloss. Adonis bites down hard on his bottom lip turning it bloodshot almost. Brittany trailed those dangerous kisses down to the base of his dick and over his balls. She repeated this until Adonis was a groaning mess with his hand snatching her bonnet off to grip her hair. Now, Brittany was adding tongue. Adonis couldn’t take sitting any longer so he stood up and planted his hands on the surface of the kitchen island. 

“Britt...move your hands...good girl...now, suck on just the tip baby…”

Brittany rested her hands in her lap and went to work using just the power of her jaws to suck the tip of his dick. Her mouth drooled and her spit dribbled down the center of her chest. She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of his wide tip in her mouth. 

“Mmm,” she moaned. 

“Oh my fucking God...shit...nasty girl sucking on my tip like that…”

“Mhm,” she replied with his tip still in her mouth and her head bobbing up and down slowly. 

“You tryna make me cum like this? You know that’s daddy’s spot, right?”

She replied with her lips going lower around him and her hand juggling his balls. Adonis threw his head back and hissed. Brittany truly didn’t want him to go. His dick was so warm and fat in her mouth. She slurped him up fully now and his groans and moans had her bringing one hand down between her legs to rub her clit. 

“That’s it, baby, rub on that pussy with my dick in your mouth.” 

She rubbed on her clit, smoothing her hands down to gather her wetness from time to time while working her mouth on her husband’s fat dick. Adonis starts moving his hips to feed her some more dick, his dress shirt resting under his chin. 

“Let me see your fingers, baby.” 

Brittany shows Adonis her fingers. A creamy ass mess. 

“Shit...that pussy is weeping. You want this fat dick, baby?”

Brittany nods her head.

“Keep going...ima cum all down your Goddamn throat, girl.” 

Brittany was fingering herself now and with her other hand she strokes his balls while sucking Adonis as best as she could now. That dick was beyond fat in her mouth and every time it reached the back of her throat she gagged. The entire front of that dress shirt she wore was soaked. 

“I hear that creamy pussy…” Adonis’ eyes were low, “Fuck...I’m about to bust...damn, baby...fuck!!!!!”

Adonis gripped the kitchen island edge tightly and with a forward thrust of his hips, he emptied his heavy balls of all his cum down her throat. Brittany’s legs shook and she couldn’t keep her lips around him any longer. Popping her lips off, the remainder of Adonis’ cum landed on her chest as she moaned out. She jerked his dick as her entire body spasmed with her orgasm. She let go of his dick and pulled her fingers out with a whimper. She was even more of a mess now. 

“That’s a lot of cum, almost as much as me.”

They both stare at the mess they made before locking eyes. 

“Clean my cum off your chest and suck it off your fingers.” Adonis commanded. 

Brittany swiped his cum off of her and licked and sucked it clean before leaning forward to do the same to his dick. 

“Let me taste that pussy.”

Brittany was on her feet, fingers coming up to Adonis’ mouth. He gripped her wrist tightly before his long, thick, pink tongue damn near slithered out to clean her off. Her blood seemed to rush to her core again and the feeling of the pressure from his sucking had her weak in the knees. 

“Pussy tastes good each and every time, baby,” Adonis leans forward to give her a sloppy French kiss, “Now I’m gonna be at work all day thinking about how wet that pussy is...keep it wet until I get home, okay?” Adonis strokes her chin, “Play in that pussy as much as you like so I can come home and find the biggest fucking mess for daddy to play all in...okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” Brittany was damn near hypnotized by this man's tongue. 

_____________________________________________________

“Glad that shit is over.”

Adonis had just finished up his last meeting about expanding AJC Finance. He plans on opening up a corporate office in South Korea soon. On his trail is one of his secretaries, Kimberly Jussel. She’s from Birmingham UK. A black woman with skin that reminded you of burlywood and raven hair that she always wore in a classy French braid with wand curls framing her face. She wears black cat eye frames and fitted pencil skirts with silk blouses and So Kate pumps on her feet. 

“Absolutely, Sir,” Kimberly replies, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll take some of that tea that you make, it’s really good.”

“With cream and sugar?” 

Adonis looked over his shoulder at Kimberly with a dimpled smile and unwavering eyes, “Exactly like that.” 

Adonis enters his grand office, taking a seat. Kimberly places some important files on his desk, her eyes admiring Adonis discreetly while he takes off his suit jacket. She tugged on her full bottom lip with her teeth before tearing her eyes away just when he looked towards her direction. 

“That tea, Kim?” Adonis says jokingly with a half smirk while unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand, finger rings gleaming. 

“Right on it, Sir.”

Kimberly turns to exit just when another secretary of Adonis’ enters. Her name is Morgan. Tall, sienna skin, short curly fro and a sexy suit on like she always wears with her dress shirt unbuttoned a little to show off her slender yet smooth neck. Kimberly and Morgan locked eyes before sharing fake smiles. It was like a competition in that office for Adonis’ attention. 

“What’s up, Morgan?” Adonis asks before taking his seat.

“It’s your wife, Mr. Creed. She says it’s an emergency.”

“Shit,” Adonis notices his company phone blinking with a transferred call, “Thanks Morgan.”

“No problem,” She says with a sultry voice before strutting away, closing his double glass doors to give him privacy. Adonis presses a few buttons on his desk to tint the glass of his office. Picking up the phone, Adonis speaks.

“Babe, everything cool?”

“No,” Brittany exhales, “Donnie...I need you to come home.”

“Baby...what’s the matter?” Adonis says with a concerned expression. 

“I’m not feeling too well...I don’t know what it is,” She exhaled, “Please come home…”

Adonis closes his eyes, “Alright, alright...I’ll cancel a conference call that I have to do and let Kellon take it. I’ll handle the rest when I get back from the trip. Did you need me to bring anything while I’m on my way?”

“Those Lindor chocolates I like.”

Adonis smiles, “Sure, baby, I’ll bring you a bag...anything else?”

“Just your presence, Mr. Creed.”

“Okay, Mrs. Creed...I’ll be on my way.” 

The call ended and Adonis was up and out of his office chair, gathering his things before leaving his office. His close friend and CFO, Kellon Jordan will be in charge for the two weeks he’s gone—of course, Adonis will be called in case anything goes bad. Exiting his office, Kimberly was approaching with his tea and a megawatt smile. 

“Oh! Leaving?” Her smile turned to that of disappointment. 

“Yes, my wife needs me at home so I gotta go to her.”

Kimberly bats her lashes and smiles, “That's so sweet...should I inform Mr. Jordan?”

“He already knows I’m leaving for my trip so there is no need for all of that. Just let him know about taking over the conference call. He knows what to say. I’ll see you when I get back Kim, alright? Take care of yourself girl.

With that, Adonis leaves Kimberly behind with his scent lingering and her body shivering. 

Adonis exited the company parking garage and drove to a nearby CVS to grab the chocolate. With that, Adonis is driving home, thankful to beat traffic since it was only 2:45 in the afternoon. Parking his car in the penthouse garage, Adonis leaves his suit jacket in the car and takes everything else with him. He walks through the lobby of the penthouse building, heading straight for the elevators to the top floor. What could it be? She used to suffer from acid reflux and it would make her sick. Off of the elevator and at his door, Adonis unlocks it swiftly, opening the door and strolling inside. 

“Britt?”

It’s silent. 

Adonis drops the chocolate off in the kitchen and climbs the stairs to his penthouse. The bedroom doors are closed. Adonis pauses ate the doors, his hands on both knobs. Exhaling, Adonis opens the doors to find his wife—

“Emergency, huh?” 

He couldn’t fight the sly smirk that spread across his face. Brittany is completely naked and laid out like Rose on Titanic. Beautiful toasty brown skin all smooth, brown eyes low and lips glossy. Adonis drops his work satchel on the floor, walking towards Brittany while loosening his tie. 

“Hey, baby…” Brittany blushes.

“I thought you weren’t feeling well?”

“I’m not well,” Brittany circled her right nipple with her finger, “I’m sick…”

“You look well to me, B,” Adonis kicks off his shoes.

“In order for me to get better...I need you to be here...to take care of me…”

The minute Adonis left, Brittany was in a sour mood. She cleaned up a bit, took a shower, rubbed down with some body butter and laid in bed with a new shirt of his on. She has a habit of going into his walk-in closet, trying on his suit jackets and jewelry. She sprayed his cologne on her pillow so she could breathe in his scent. Yes, Brittany did play in her pussy. Her clit plumped up real quick with his smell woven into the fabric of the pillow and the thought of his dick filling her up. She looked down at her pussy with her legs pulled back and whimpered. He said to play in it as much as she wanted to for him to practically swim in. Brittany did it three times. Twice in that bed and once on the sofa after lunch. She was aching for her man and that’s what led her to call his job and get him to come home. 

“I got it nice and wet for you, daddy…”

Brittany opened her legs to show Adonis just what she meant by wet. More like her pussy was drowning. Adonis’ lips parted and his eyes grew all dark and clouded with lust. 

“I think it’s time for you to come get this pussy and make me feel better.” 

Adonis chuckles, his fingers undoing the buttons on his dress shirt before he was doing the same thing to his dress pants. Adonis then removes his socks and briefs, walking over to Brittany in complete nudity. He kneeled between her legs before grabbing her ankles and pulling her towards him so that she’s laying flat on her back. Adonis lowers himself between her legs on his belly, his strong, biceps curling around her thighs to keep them open and in his complete control. Her pussy was right in his face. He locked eyes with her while parting his lips to spit on her pussy—his saliva dripping slowly. Using his tongue, Adonis covered her pussy lips with his saliva before using his tongue to slip between her lips. 

Up, down, up, down, he went. Brittany concentrated hard on the movement of his tongue. She bites her lip when Adonis damn near stuffed his whole face in her pussy, moving his head from side to side and in a circle. Her head went back and she moaned. With his fingers, Adonis spreads her lips and from there kisses trailed all over her. She shuddered each time his lips graced her clit. When he began to eat her, Brittany’s hand found its way on the back of his head. He was sucking, licking, and kissing her pussy with his eyes on her—just studying her. He would say how beautiful and tasty her pussy is to ruin her some more. 

“Fuck, Adonis,” She moaned, “You’re gonna make me cum for the fourth time today…”

“You deserve it,” He whispered before sucking her clit, “Ima make you cum as many fucking times I want to on that trip…”

“Yes,” Her lips parted but she couldn’t find the words. 

“Cum in my mouth, baby...daddy wants to make you feel better—“

“FUCK,” Brittany’s head fell back against the pillows, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming—“

Adonis squeezed the hell out of her thighs the more he devoured her pussy and on command she was cumming in his mouth—loud gasps of pleasure filling the room. 

“You said it was an emergency...this is an emergency,” Adonis was up on his knees between her legs with his fingers in her pussy, “Whatever you need, I gotchu baby…”

“Mmm,” Brittany spreads her legs wider, “I’m a little better…”

“But not completely,” Adonis grabs for his fat dick, stroking his length slowly, “I know what you need.” 

“What do I need, daddy?”

Adonis looked from his dick and up into her eyes, “This fat dick.”

“Yes...yess...that dick will have me better in no time.”

“Make you cum to get you well?” Adonis positions himself between her legs before pushing his length inside slowly. He released a shuddering breath before smirking at her with a single deep dimple. She closed her eyes to fight the build up of liquid behind her lids. Adonis takes his thumb to trace her bottom lip before Brittany wrapped her lips around it. His hips moved with skill while he held all his body weight up on one arm. All she could see was his cut muscles flexing with each thrust. 

“That’s right baby...put them legs up so I can get in there deeper...make my baby feel better, yeah?”

“Unh,” She moaned in response. 

“Pussy wet…” he hisses, “Pussy is fucking wet.”

“So wet for you,” She whimpers.

His hips began snapping into hers, their sweaty skin connecting like adhesive. She felt her entire pussy tingle like an orgasm was brewing. He fucked her so good that she could feel every inch and width of that dick pushing inside of her. With how soaked she is it helped. They both watched with awe stricken expressions at how beautiful his dick looked covered in her creamy mess. Adonis would go purposely slow just so she can catch the moment and savor it. Now, he was staring at her intently with his dick beating her walls up and causing her titties to bounce. 

“I’m gonna cum,” She whispered. She couldn’t really find her voice because Adonis was fucking it out of her. 

“Daddy making that pussy cum? You gonna make daddy’s dick cum with that pussy? I feel that pussy yanking on me…”

“Cum inside of me…”

He was going to anyway. Adonis pushed her thighs back some more and used her for balance while he fucked her deep. Brittany was in pure bliss and shock. All she could do was moan and ask for him to keep fucking her with that good dick. His balls slapped her ass and she could feel them getting tighter and tighter. 

“I’m gonna bust in that pussy...give that pussy what she needs—“

“Yeah, give me that nut—“

“AHHH FUCK—“

Adonis picked up the pace and the more he hit the bottom of her pussy the harder he came. He stuffed his dick in as deep as it could go before pulling out slowly. A single slimy string of cum was left behind and it was a reminder of how good her pussy is and how much she drained him. Adonis laid on top of her, his pillow soft lips kissing all over her face before finding her lips. He gripped her chin to keep her still while controlling the searing kiss. He was still nice and stiff and she could definitely go for round two. 

___________________________________________________

The Boeing 747-8 VIP is the longest and second largest airliner ever built. The starting price of this jewel is at $367 million, and that is before all the luxury amendments are designed into the jumbo jet. This is the jet that Brittany and Adonis take to Phuket—a rainforested, mountainous island in the Andaman Sea. It has some of Thailand’s most popular beaches, mainly situated along the clear waters of the western shore. The island is home to many high-end seaside resorts, spas and restaurants. Phuket City, the capital, has old shophouses and busy markets. They are both staying at the Vijitt Resort Phuket—a tranquil beachfront escape on the tropical island of Phuket with Thai culture and charm where privacy, nature, and local hospitality take center stage. It’s wide open spaces, tall swaying palms and lush green lawns gently slope towards the Andaman Sea. The unforgettable view from this 5 star villa resort Phuket overlooks a myriad of offshore islands from the calm and tranquil tidal beach at Chalong Bay.

Brittany’s boho box braids are in a bun and she’s wearing a white wrap top with a tropical mini skirt that has a high split and some strappy green heels. Her chocolate brown eyes are covered with rimless square frame sunglasses that are a brown color and she’s carrying her green birkin bag. Adonis is wearing a pair of charcoal grey joggers, Nike track shoes, a black muscle tee and black aviator shades. A private car awaited them and now they are pulling up to the resort. Valet handled the designer suitcases for them while Adonis and Brittany checked in. Brittany couldn’t wait to experience the beaches, food, and overall views during their trip. Adonis wanted to experience the overall culture, anime, and take an ATV tour. They planned on staying in Phuket for a few days before heading to Tokyo, Shanghai, Bangkok, and Bali to name a few. 

With their room keys, Adonis couldn’t wait for Brittany to see the Vijitt Pool Villa. The one bedroom Vijitt Pool Villa offers supreme privacy and outstanding uninterrupted views of the Andaman Sea. Their bags are already waiting for them. When they arrived Brittany was blown away by the exceptional views. It was the ultimate romantic getaway. Brittany couldn’t wait to relax in the private garden and splash around in the 11 metre-long infinity-edge pool that appears to blend into the sea and after dark take a romantic dip in the outdoor Jacuzzi. There is one king-sized bedroom, a separate opulent living room and a heavenly bathroom with its own tropical garden, luxury bathtub and rain shower. Adonis watched her move around the villa, taking it all in. He has a special dinner with fireworks planned for her on the beach tomorrow night. 

“I wish we could just live here,” Brittany says while standing on the patio watching the sea, “It’s so beautiful…”

Adonis joins her, “I’m just happy you love it...we have a lot more to look forward to as well. Come here…”

Adonis pulls Brittany in to wrap his arms around her. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her slowly and softly. 

“What do you wanna do right now?” 

Brittany couldn’t seem to narrow it down to one thing. Walk the beach? Take a dip in the pool? 

“How about we think it over while drinking some champagne?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brittany says, taking Adonis’ hand and entering the villa. Both of them take a seat on their bed while sharing champagne. Neither of them felt like unpacking at the moment so they planned on doing that before taking a nice bubble bath. Tomorrow Adonis will take her on a yacht tour and afterwards they will ride ATV’s then have a fancy dinner on the beach. 

“Can you understand Thai?” Brittany asks.

“A little. I’m still learning. I can understand Indonesian, Japanese of course, still trying to be more fluent since I’m trying to expand globally.”

“That’s so sexy to me. A fluent tongue…” Brittany licks her lips. 

“I can always teach you,” Adonis says. 

With the bottle nearly empty, Brittany and Adonis take a much needed nap. They were out for a while because it’s nearly nightfall. Brittany wakes up first to use the bathroom. After relieving herself, she starts a bubble bath for the both of them. It was a relaxing and romantic ambience with deep cleansing treatments, body scrubs, oils, and scented body soaps. Brittany added herbal oil to the bubble bath to better relax them. Afterwards, Brittany lit some candles and dimmed the lights. Undressing, Brittany enters the room to grab Adonis. She wakes him with kisses to his soft lips. 

“I have a bubble bath ready for us,” She whispered against his lips. 

“Mmm, is that right?” He replies with low eyes and that raspy voice she loves. 

“Mhm,” She tongue kissed him, “Come on before it gets cold.” 

They usually took showers together since the tub at their place was a single tub. With both of their naked bodies submerged in the soapy water, they gazed at each other’s bodies with desire. Can simple stares make a woman pregnant? Adonis calmly admired her and she looked back at him. His hands smoothed up and down her soapy legs. Brittany stared at him like someone who has seen something very interesting and lovely. She kept chewing on her bottom lip while staring at him. Eventually, Adonis moved closer to her, so that their legs almost surrounded each other’s waist and he put his arms around her, pulling her forward and into his lap. Brittany wrapped her soapy arms around his shoulders. She can feel his stiff dick against her ass beneath the soapy depths. 

“That dick feels so good,” She spoke with a hushed tone in his ear. His wet hands rubbed her hips. His dick was bobbing up and down in the water and it kept smacking her pussy and ass. Adonis spreads her ass cheeks beneath the water which causes her pussy to open and Brittany takes that opportunity to grab his dick up to rub along her clit. Each time she smacked his wide tip against her pussy the water would splash. Adonis smiles at her actions while cuffing both of her cheeks firmly. 

Adonis leaned forward to flick his tongue against her ear, “you gon’ keep slapping your clit with it or are you gonna let me put this dick in you?”

Brittany rests her wet forehead against Adonis’ shoulder before taking her teeth to nibble on his flesh. 

“I asked you a question, girl…”

“Of course you can put this dick in me,” Brittany says while stroking him beneath the water. 

“Aight, turn around.”

Brittany lifts from Adonis’ lap and turns around on her knees in the bath, her ass arched and soaking wet with soap bubbles clinging to her skin. Adonis grabs his fat dick with one hand and with the other he rubs each ass cheek in front of him. The soap mixed with oil made her skin extra shiny and slippery. Brittany rested her head on the back of the tub with her hands planted on the wet wall. He rubbed his hands in a circular motion over her ass before slapping each cheek. Brittany closed her eyes and enjoyed his heavy hands coming down on her wet skin. The sound echoed off of the walls. 

“I’ma eat it just like this.”

He couldn’t help himself. Her pussy lips were in his face and nestled between her thick thighs daring him to come and taste. Brittany spreads her thighs some more, careful not to slip. Adonis scoots closer, some of the water sloshing over the edge before leaning forward to kiss her pussy lips. He was beating his pipe at the same time. Brittany could hear the flesh of his shaft against his palm. It sounded so good. She wanted that dick up in her badly but his mouth was currently in place sucking on her clit and alternating between tongue-fucking her pussy. 

“Damn...I’ma eat this phat pussy morning day and night... slurping on this juicy phat pussy...mhmmm... mhmmm...such an amazing view baby…”

“Oh, my God, Donnie…” Brittany pushed her pussy in his face and Donnie had to grab her ass to keep her still. She rode his face from behind like she always did, popping her ass and pushing all that pussy back on him. Adonis whacked her ass each time she did that. The water was swaying in the tub from their movement. Adonis loves to get his mouth on her pussy. She was giving and he was taking her yummy phat pussy in his mouth as best as he could with lots of spit. She could hear his tongue flicking back and forth and just when he made it go flat to swipe her pussy up and down, over and over, she climaxed. Her hands struggled to grip the wall and her knees slid to opposite ends of the tub and that gave Adonis more of a reason to eat her pussy. She reached back to palm his head and guided him where she wanted. 

“Right there baby...right on that clit...mmm...suck on it baby...shit...your pussy is cumming for you...make your pussy cum...show me how much you want your pussy to cum...yesss...fuckkkk...Donnie...baby...shit.”

She couldn’t hold on any longer. Her hand left his head and now she was shaking. Adonis gave her one final kiss before lifting to his knees. Brittany looks back and sees how much he’s struggling. That dick was weeping. His pre-cum dribbled from his slit and into the water. It was stiff and pointing out towards her pussy. 

“I’m a creamy mess back there?” Brittany asks.

“Fuck yes,” Adonis takes a finger to rub it in, “It’s hella sloppy like always…”

“Put that dick in, beat my walls up,” She pressed her face against the wall and spread her cheeks for him, “see this tight pussy? Put that big dick right in here…”

“You gon’ tear this dick up? Cream all over this dick…”

“Bring me that dick—

Brittany couldn’t even finish her words when Adonis’ wide tip slipped easily past her opening followed by his girth and length. His hand came down on her ass rough followed by the second one before he squeezed her ass. With his sturdy hips, Adonis pushed his dick in and out of her pussy—not rushed, but moderately moving so that she could feel all of him. She parted her lips and exhaled longingly while struggling to thrust her hips back to meet him. It was like a battle of who’s fucking who. Each time she went back, Donnie would thrust forward deeply. His hands moved to grip her slippery waist and from there he began to increase the pace. Brittany’s wet cheeks bounced off of his hips and it stung each time from the water. 

“There you go, girl—

“Donnie, shit!!!” 

He was taking over. Their movements caused the floor to get wet. 

“This what you wanted right? Get a room and fuck all day?”

“Yes, daddy—

“You know that’s my shit too...get a hotel...check in early…and make love to this good pussy all fucking night...wake you up at 2 am with dick deep in this pussy.”

Brittany and Adonis haven’t taken a trip in a long while and this is something they used to do all the time. Check in to the most expensive hotel wherever they are, drink, eat, and fuck. Fuck in the kitchen, fuck on the balcony, fuck in the shower, and fuck from the floor to the bed. The thought of it made her cream his dick. One of Adonis’ hands came around to grip the front of Brittany’s throat so he could lean forward and whisper in her ear between strokes. 

“You look so pretty with my dick in your pussy,” He nibbled on her jaw, “tearing that pretty ass up, right?”

“Fuck—

“Keep that pussy right there baby.”

“Adonis—

“Submissive and taking this pipe good—

“It’s in my stomach…fuck my pussy daddy...I love your dick—

“Fuck this pussy? I can’t wait to cum in your pretty little pussy.”

Brittany could hardly go without making a bunch of noise and it was music to his ears. With his hand wrapped around her braids now he went faster, the water really splashing and getting everywhere. It splashed so much that it put the fire out of two of the candles. 

“Fuck—

“I feel that pussy baby,” Adonis stood still so he could feel her walls convulse around him while she came. He threw his head back and hissed before fucking her again. 

“Shove it in, babe.”

With her words Adonis went hard in her pussy, his balls heavy and tight. He was about to bust. Just a few more strokes in her good pussy and he was gonna cream pie her ass something serious. 

“Yes, daddy—

“Yes daddy what? Gonna keep taking that dick? Look back at me while I beat that pussy in and flood you with all this nut—

Everytime he fucked Brittany—his wife, from the back, he loved seeing her ass like that. Jiggling, bouncing, clapping, red from his slaps. He came so hard that he almost fell on top of her in the tub. Adonis gripped the edge of the tub to hold himself up when he emptied his load inside of her. They both couldn’t move so they stayed connected until their hearts slowed down and their breathing caught up.

_______________________________________________________

Throughout the rest of the evening, Brittany and Adonis couldn’t keep their hands, lips, and tongues off of each other. They both went to a stunning beachfront Thai restaurant after their sexy bath and afterward they walked the beach home and took a few pictures. It’s the next morning and they shared a lovely breakfast in the restaurant and bar that included mimosas and a beautiful view. Erik has a yacht rented for them to explore the Andaman sea—Princess S65 Kati. Their final destination will be Langkawi Island, a natural tropical paradise in SouthEast Asia. Brittany is sipping on wine in her little black bikini and black sheer robe, enjoying the good life while swaying her thick hips, braids blowing in the wind. A black girl in luxury. Adonis is shirtless and in a pair of turquoise and black trunks, smoking a cigar and sipping on his drink. 

Adonis watched his wife enjoy herself to the fullest with a big smile on his face. It was her laugh, her glistening skin, and her hips moving to the music in her head that has him getting up from lounging and walking up on her. He wrapped his strong arms around her, Brittany turning to face him. She pulled him close with her arms around his shoulders while he kissed her right brow all the way down to her lips. 

“Kiss me again,” He says, drunk and clingy.

Adonis has so much love for Brittany. He could fill rooms with it. Buildings. He’s surrounded by it wherever he goes, he walks through it, breathes it...it’s in his lungs, and under his tongue, and between his legs. His mouth moved passionately over hers, urging her lips apart. It was a kiss to level mountains and shake stars from the sky. It was a kiss to make angles faint and demons weep...a passionate, demanding, soul-searing kiss that nearly knocked the earth off its axis. 

“Look!” 

Brittany broke their kiss and pointed towards a beautiful island with white sand and clear water. With both of their phones out they snapped pictures. The yacht arrived at a dock on the island and Brittany and Adonis stepped off with beach towels and a basket filled with lunch for them both. After chilling on the beach Adonis wanted to go on an ATV tour before heading back to the villa to prepare for dinner that evening. They both found a spot on the sand and laid out towels. Brittany setup lunch that included Tom yum, green and papaya salad, fruit, and pomegranate juice. The beach was free of other people so Adonis plucked the strings of her bikini top, Brittany’s succulent breast displayed for him. Adonis took a few pictures of her to admire later on. Sand palm prints on her cheeks and sweaty cocoa skin. After lunch, they both took a dip in the water to cool off, splashing around and swimming. They both spent at least two hours there before heading back to the yacht to change into appropriate clothes for the ATV tour. 

Adonis was in his element when they arrived on the ATV tour. Head strap camera on, all black cargo pants, a red muscle tee, black bandanna around his mouth, and black hiking boots on his feet, Adonis climbed onto his own ATV while Brittany took off on her own. She went off before him and Adonis was taken by surprise. She’s wearing grey biker shorts with a matching sports bra, grey hiking boots, and her braids in a bun. They explored the natural wonderland of Phuket island from Bang-Tao to Patong. Of course, the ride wasn’t a clean one. Just thirty minutes in they were both covered with splashes of mud. They took the whole three hours given to enjoy themselves with breaks in between. Early day adventures finished, Adonis and Brittany took the yacht back to the villa. They showered together, unable to fight the urge to be all over each other again. . 

Adonis is strong. He lifted Brittany up against the wall and rested her legs on his shoulders while he pressed his lips into her folds. Smacking his lips, Adonis spits on her clit before making his tongue wide to flick her clit up and down. Side-to-side. Adonis moaned her name while he explored her wet pussy with his tongue and lips. He needed to enter her expeditiously. Brittany moaned despite her fear of falling but she knew Adonis had her. With his tongue in her pussy, Brittany’s walls gripped him and she creamed in his mouth. Putting her down, Adonis gripped her braids and lowered her head to show her how throbbing hard he is. He gripped his erection and showed her how much pre-cum seeped from his slit. She was on her knees speedily to lick him up. 

“Oooh,” She moaned between sucking. 

“Damn, Brittany...suck it baby...suck that dick baby…”

Looking down he could see her spit all over him and that slurping noise she was making had him pushing her head down further so he could hear her gag. Just watching her suck his dick made him want to flood her womb with his nut. He pumped harder into her mouth, an erratic movement of his hips forcing all that fat dick down her throat. 

“Look at you baby...such a beautiful Bitch taking all this dick...you gon’ take all this later right ?”

He didn’t give her room to respond. Brittany was squeezing his thighs. 

“I see you baby...I see how much you love daddy’s dick...I feel that throat opening up...mouth swallowing my shit.” 

“Mm…” Brittany hummed, the sides of her mouth stretching. 

“Shit...oh fuck...girl...goddamn baby…”

His hips jerked wildly.

“Damn baby!!! Damn!!”

Adonis could feel his glans throb in her mouth and now his balls began to empty his heavy load down her throat. She still sucked. He looked at her with a mixture of lust and bewilderment. Tugging on her hair, he made Brittany let go of his dick with her tight lips. His shit was extra sensitive and she kept playing around, licking his tip. 

“Ared stop it, girl,” He said while moving away from her hand.

“I can’t help it, it’s so tasty. I want some more of that dick…”

“Later, Aight?” Adonis turned off the shower, “You know I got something special planned for your tonight, right?”

“All for me?” Brittany bites her lip and bats her lashes at him. That shit always made him weak. 

“Uh-huh...everything for my baby.” 

They exited the shower wrapped in one towel that barely covered them. Once they got back to the villa, they planned on taking a nap so they could be energized for dinner. He has the biggest firework experience planned for her on the beach. Then he was going to finish the night out with her pussy filled with his hot quintessence. 

________________________________________________________

The setup was otherworldly. 

Adonis really pulled out all the stops. 

The romantic beach dinner was a complete surprise for Brittany. They had their very own candle-lit beach cabana where they can put their toes in the sand while staring into the twinkling lights of the Andaman sea and Patong bay. They had their very own menu that included Phuket lobster, sea bass, seafood skewers, beef tenderloin, baked garlic potatoes, a bread basket, tropical fruits, and the finest wine. Brittany wore a fitted orange maxi dress with a high slit and her braids down with gold accessories decorating the strands, and a new gold jewelry set that Adonis gifted her along with the perfume on her skin. Adonis wore a pair of light wash denim cutoffs with a short sleeve white button down shirt halfway buttoned. He has silver jewelry with white diamonds on to bring the casual look together. This was the night of her lifetime. The evening sky mixed with the sound of the waves crashing set the tone of the dinner. 

Brittany finished off the last bit of her dessert before grabbing her wine. His eyes were those of someone who’s deeply in love, someone who sees nothing but his lover, someone who has no fear of anything except losing her. The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true, that reality will move if you just give it a push. It was so intense that it has Brittany panting with need. The dinner was splendid. Now, she wanted him to slather her mouth with slow wet kisses and give her soaked pussy deep thrusts—plunging balls deep. He senses her need and with an outreached hand they walk away from the cabana and further out on the beach hand in hand. Adonis kisses Brittany’s hand before pulling her in close to him. They stared at the sky in comfortable silence until the first firework lit up the evening sky with blue, purple, and pink. She turned to Adonis with a tilt of her head and a wide smile. 

“A firework show?! Wow, Adonis,” She shook her head and stared up at a few comet fireworks the color of red and orange. Next, a green peony firework burst the sky and it flashed within Brittany’s brown irises. When the golden willow firework went off she gasped excitedly and Adonis couldn’t help but laugh and smile. So many pretty colors to take in. Jellyfish fireworks sprouted and at that point Brittany dug into her cream colored clutch for her phone to record. She turned the camera on Adonis and he saluted with a big smile before she focused back to the show. Crackles, strobes, and then ending in a big dahlia, the show came to an end. 

“I don’t need to ask if you enjoyed your evening,” Adonis says with a smirk. 

“This. Was. Perfect. Amazing? Romantic? I don’t even know the proper word to describe how much I appreciate everything you do for me.” 

Brittany blinked away tears and wrapped her arms around his torso. He pulled her in with his hands rubbing her exposed back up and down. 

“You mean everything to me…”

His touch was electric against her brown skin. Those eyes of his are on her. The eyes that make her weak every time he looked at her damn face. They created something special together and with the way he kissed her with all his tongue while she uttered sounds that had him on the edge had him ready to spill his cum deep inside of her. 

“...Time to go back and end this night with a bang,” Adonis palmed both her ass cheeks, “I ain’t give you the proper dick down yet and that’s what I plan on doing.” 

“Can’t wait,” Brittany whispered against his lips. 

Finished at the beach, Brittany and Adonis headed back to their private villa for some more fun. Inside, Adonis opened a fresh bottle of champagne while Brittany went to the bedroom to get prepared. She had a little something in mind herself. Opening her suitcase, Brittany pulls out a pair of sexy black panties with the sides cut out, a cheetah print top that’s see through, and some thigh high laced boots with a platform and a long heel like she was an exotic dancer. One thing for sure, Adonis loves it when she dresses up in the bedroom so he can take it all off himself. Except the shoes. He bought the sexiest shoes with the tallest heel to fuck her in. He has a fetish for legs—thick thighs and strong calves. Crawling in the center of the bed on her back with her legs spread and resting on her elbows, Brittany waited for Adonis to come back into the bedroom to find her. 

“Damn, baby, it’s like that?”

Adonis walked in with the champagne bottle in hand. 

“So...this is my surprise for the night?” Adonis sits the bottle down before going over to stand between Brittany’s legs. He lowered his head to kiss Brittany and she slipped him a bit of tongue. 

“Mmm...when did you get these boots?” Adonis asked while running his hands up and down the leather with awe. He grabs the back of her right leg bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. He rubbed his fingers across the lace up detailing while biting his lip. Not only did she look good in the boots, her pussy was sitting fat between her thighs and he could make out her areolas and nipples beyond the cheetah print top. 

“I bought them online a week before the trip...I see you love them…” her hand rubs up and down her pussy, “you did so much for me today...it’s time I give you this pussy...it’s wet as fuck too,” Brittany pulls the crotch of her panties aside. That pussy slipped out and spread open for him. Adonis licks two of his fingers and strokes her pussy lips. 

“I plan on being in this phat pussy all night girl.”

“And I want that fat dick in me all night,” Brittany reached out to hook her fingers in the front of his jeans to pull him closer. Adonis was on his knees between her legs now while Brittany stroked his thick erection. Adonis took one hand to pull her top down to expose both her breasts for him to tease. He twirled her nipples and pulled on her nipples just so he can release them and watch them bounce. 

“That pussy is insanely pretty, baby. Pussy tight and delicious…”

“Come eat this pussy.” 

Adonis didn’t need to be told twice. Brittany spread her thighs and pointed her heels towards the ceiling with her hand on the back of Adonis head. He started off by slurping with spit drooling from his tongue to get her nice and messy. Satisfied, Adonis spreads her lips, pulls the hood of her clit back, and goes to work with slow licks to her clit. That tongue moved like a wave hitting all the right spots.

“That fucking tongue don’t make no sense...fuck, daddy, that shit is so fucking good keep doing that.

Adonis made sure to move his tongue over her labia since it looked so fleshy and delicious. Not a single spot was left out from his tongue and lips. Her whole pussy was sucked up in his mouth. She watched him with low eyes and a lick of her lips. Brittany’s head went back when he alternated between flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking on it. 

“Keep them legs open...you tell daddy to eat this pussy you keep these thick ass thighs back, you understand?”

“...Gonna make me cum so good,” Brittany did as she was told. She held her thighs back for him. 

“Ima make this pussy cum all in my mouth...pussy is so wet on my tongue...tight, pink, fat pussy…”

“Unh, shit, Donnie,” Brittany’s fingers kept the hood of her clit back so Adonis could give her direct stimulation whenever he wanted. Each time he came back to her clit the urge to cum would increase. It came to a breaking point and she was a loud moaning mess in that room with her thighs trapping his head. Her cumming was a sign for him to keep going. Her hips lifted from the bed and his strong arms pushed her thighs apart with force so he could french kiss her pussy into another orgasm. She fell back with defeat. 

“My mouth is watering.” 

Adonis could feel his taste buds tingling for more. 

“The best fucking pussy in the world,” He reluctantly pulled away to stand and undress. His eyes focused on her pussy the entire time he took his clothes off. 

“Pussy so good I gotta put my dick in you now fuck all that.” 

That nice, big, long beautiful dick swung between his legs while he stood before her. That beast. Brittany turned around and put her ass in the air. Her panties are still pushed to the side. Her pussy lips were nice and creamy from the back. Adonis grabbed up his girthy shaft and started stroking with a twist of his wrist. His shit was concrete solid. Brittany slapped her pussy while looking back at him. 

“Pussy is noisy...I hear that pretty pussy...that’s daddy’s pussy…”

“That dick is thick and huge...I could cum from looking at it.” Brittany said.

Adonis was on his knees behind her, that body he worked so hard for blessing her eyes. Brittany arched her back some more and pushed her ass against him. Using one hand, Adonis laced his fingers around her panties to keep them pulled to the side while using his other hand to push his dick past her tightness. They both sighed with pleasure. He always stuffed her. The fullness tugged on her clit and made her grip him. 

“Still grip this dick with that good pussy,” Adonis moves his hips, “creamy and squeezing this dick...that’s right baby throw that ass back.” 

Adonis forcefully grabs her hips to feed her some dick while his eyes watch the way he fucks her. Her cream was making a big ass mess on the sheets. She circled her hips for him and made it jiggle. He was over her even more using the strength of his hips to stroke in her pussy.

“You fuck my pussy so good,” Brittany cried out. 

“That’s what you deserve...you know I gotta make this pussy feel good for my baby.”

Adonis went in deep and long, all the way, and they both moaned in unison. Adonis pumped his hips, pounding his meat into Brittany’s tight, velvety tunnel, her body surrendering to him like it always did. They were both bathed in sweat, burning with lust. Brittany looked back and watched as Adonis’ tongue ran over his bottom lip. She could see how much he was enjoying her wet pussy  with his deep strokes. She was feeling every inch of him thrusting into her. All of it. Even his balls slapping her engorged clit. 

“You got me cumming,” Brittany could feel herself dripping on the bed, “Damn...got my pussy leaking, daddy.” 

“Every time you cum for me, I crave you some more. This shit does my body good.”

Adonis pulled back slowly and enjoyed the sounds her pussy made and how stained she had him. He was fully out now and pulsating for more. Kissing her ass, Adonis turned Brittany over on her back and flicked tongues with her before lowering his lips to suck on her titties. She arched into his mouth when he started licking each nipple. 

“Put that dick back in me,” Brittany begged while bringing her legs up to rest on his shoulders. 

“I gotchu baby...daddy gon’ make that pussy cum again I promise,” Adonis whispered, “All you gotta do is keep these legs open so I can dig you out...hear me?”

“Yes, baby,” Brittany pilled Adonis up for another kiss. 

“And keep those pretty eyes on me…”

His hips moved like he was dancing slow motion, each time her toes would curl and her nails would drags down his back. Brittany could feel herself getting ready to cum again. She locked eyes with him, mouth falling open each time he would thrust forward hard. 

“Harder,” She encourages.

Adonis picked up the pace but kept it steady, his hips snapping into hers suddenly each time before stopping. She curled up under him, pussy unable to take the pleasure. This made Adonis pull her legs to her ears. She had no where to go now. He was going to show her how much he loved being in her pussy. 

“Oh, fuckkkk, you’re gonna make me cum,” he had his hands on the back of her thighs now, punishing her pussy. Brittany could only moan, no need for words when Adonis damn near took her breath away. There was no other feeling to compare this to. How could anything compare to the way her pussy wrapped around him? How it creamed all over him? She was at a loss. This is exactly what she would be receiving the entire trip.  

“Fuck, Donnie, Baby, I can feel you getting thicker,” her pussy was at its widest, “baby, I’m so opened up for you...baybeee, oh gosh, bayy.”

“Good fucking pussy, all mines,” Adonis buried his face in her neck, his hips snapping into her harder. She squeezed her eyes shut, mouth hanging open for the rest of the ride.

“Beating this pussy up good.” Brittany finally found the words. 

“Shit, damn...I’m about to bust...fuck...I’m cumming...Mhm...I’m cumming in this pussy deep...take this nut baby...shittttttt.”

He released in her, the tight hold pulling more cum from him. He could collapse right now. Brittany moaned out softly, as Adonis finished himself inside of her. Slipping out finally, Adonis watched her cum mixed with his drizzle onto the bed sheets. Adonis relaxed on top of her, his eyes searching hers.

“Baby that was…” He couldn’t finish his words while he stroked her sweaty face. He was still buried inside of her and it was comfortable laying beneath his solid frame. She weakly smiles up at him before pecking his lips. 

“I love you...just stay inside of me like this for a bit…”

“So I can get hard and fuck you again?” Adonis smirked. 

“I can go for some more dick.”

“That’s my kind of shit...always ready to take this dick.”

It didn’t take long because just staring at her had him stiff. Adonis was growing so thick in her pussy. His firm grip on yer thighs didn’t allow her to move. Her hips began to meet  him in a dirty dance before he grunts and moans, dick cumming and filling you up again. Brittany grabbed his chains to bring him closer to her, her lips sucking on his while he emptied his cum where it belonged. 

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[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: Informant (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Flirting, mentions of voyeurism(?), drinking, hangovers. 

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: Bit more background this week, not that exciting but some fun moments with Javi and Steve. Alternative title: Meeting your killer and flirting with the boss ENJOY

<-- Previous Chapter  // MasterList //  Next Chapter -->

---

Two months passed quickly and you were settled in well. You were comfortable in your job; you, Javi and Steve made a great team and you were learning a lot from the both of them. You tried to avoid interacting with Carrillo directly where possible, he was still as icy about you as your first meeting. You met Steve’s wife, Connie, and became fast friends with her. She had become one of your closest friends, and a welcome break from the machismo that radiated from your two teammates.

You had even managed to make a few friends outside of work. You met María Parreño at the cafe you visited nearly everyday for lunch. What started out as a little wave, now was lunch together nearly everyday, and the occasional shopping trip at the weekend. María was a sweet girl, funny and very sly when she wanted to be. 

You were careful, giving a fake name and lying about your job. You could never be too careful in Colombia. Plus, with how rich her family were you wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed paths with one of them during your investigation into Escobar’s dealings. So, Maria knew you as Isabela Serrano, you worked in the American embassy on the phones. You had lived in the USA for ten years, hence the accent, and moved back to Medellin after your abuela died. María didn’t take much convincing. 

You enjoyed her company. It was a lot nicer to have a conversation about books you’d both been reading over nice food, than trying to eat over photos of blood crime scenes. Plus, the coffee here didn’t taste like soap. 

“Isabela, can I tell you something,” María turned to you, set her cutlery down and looked over at you seriously.. Puzzled, you put down your drink and smiled.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,” 

“Diego got a new job,” 

Diego was María’s boyfriend. Her father’s mechanic. A total cliché, her father had forbidden them to date but she did it anyway just to piss him off. You didn’t know much about Diego, you’d only met him once or twice in passing when he came to pick his girlfriend up  from a shopping trip. 

“You’re saying that like it's something scandalous,” You laughed nervously, “What? Has he become a stripper?”

“He’s working for Escobar,” She whispered. 

“What?” You nearly choked your coffee in shock. You set it down on the table carefully and leant in a little to listen to her, not believing what she said. It was not an impossible thing, lots of people worked for him in lots of different capacities. You hadn’t expected it so close to home.

“I know! That’s what I said!” She said, “He came home the other night saying he got this new job doing something for Pablo! I said Pablo who, I know lots of Pablo’s. The man just looked at me like I was an idiot! Pablo fucking Escobar!”

“What does he do?” You asked, you had to know how dangerous this could be for you. Or how helpful this could be, you thought. Being close to someone close to Escobar could be invaluable.

“Escobar?” Maria asked.

“No! What does Diego do for him?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “He said something to do with cars,” You relaxed a little at that. Escobar’s mechanic was not a very useful lead. 

You glanced down at your watch and sighed. Your hour was up. Just as you had got to something useful! 

“Shoot I’m sorry María I’ve got to head back to work,” You drank down the last of your coffee quickly and stood up. “But you’ll keep me updated with this Escobar business right? It’s just all so exciting!” You put down your share of the bill on the table and threw on your jacket.

“Of course!” María smiled, “One of Diego’s friends is having a party! You should come!”

“I’ll be there,” You nodded, “Same time Saturday?”

“See you then!” 

Before you left the café you bought two coffees to go for Murphy and Pena as a way of apology for being late back. You had promised to be out less than an hour as Pena had important things he needed to go over with you and Murphy. By the time you got back, he had already started explaining the new information to Murphy in a conference room.

“Then we have-,” Javi was speaking as you walked in carrying coffee for the two men. You instantly recognised the face in the photograph and interrupted him.

“Diego Castillo,” You said. The two men turned to you, confused. Unfazed you passed them  the cups and sat down next to Murphy on the end of the table.

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked. 

“I know him. Or rather his girlfriend,” 

“What?” Steve nearly choked on his drink at your confession.  

“I didn’t think I had to tell y’all everything I do in my spare time,” You laughed.

“Hanging out with Narcos would have good to tell us,” 

“He’s not a Narco, he fixes Escobar’s cars! He’s not anyone important. It’s chill,” You waved him off. He was being ridiculous, ”Besides I’m friends with his girlfriend who has no idea what’s going on. I’ve met him maybe twice” You explained, “María’s a sweetheart, we talk about romance novels and go shopping!”

“Castillo doesn’t fix the cars. He runs the whole road operation,” Javier said. Your jaw dropped.

“Well shit,” 

“Anything else you wanna share?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know but Monday I might,” You sipped on your coffee before continuing, “I got invited to a party, I was going anyway but-.”

“No, no you can’t go now we know who he is,” He exclaimed.

“This could be invaluable!”

“You’re not allowed to have an informant,” 

“It’s not an informant if I am the one with the info!” You argued.

“Javi? Gunna chime in at any point?” Steve turned to his partner, desperate for some help as you had already spiralled far enough on this idea. You turned to Javi with a determined look.

“They don't know my name, they don’t know where I work,” You explained rapidly, “I know what I am doing, just trust me, please?” 

“Fine,” Javier broke easily. The idea made sense.

“What the fuck! Javi she-,” 

“She’s right. Neither of us is going to ever get that close and she’s new here, people don’t know her and you said you gave them a fake name?” Pena explained, you nodded, “Technically she won’t be breaking any rules if she’s the one feeding us information directly,” 

“If anyone finds out-“ 

“No one will find out, it stays between us, in this room,” Javier said gravely, “I trust you Y/n,” 

You smiled and nodded, a sense of pride washing over you. Steve muttered and grumbled under his breath but he didn’t outwardly complain so the decision was made. You were going to feed information you found out through Maria to the DEA, going undercover. Nobody had ever mentioned no undercover work, the idea of sending a rookie into that kind of situation was insane, but you wouldn’t be technically breaking any rules. 

--

The party was a bust. There was nothing of interest apart from the attendee’s themselves. Everybody was civil, there was no talk of business- as explicitly called for by the hosts, and apart from one fight between two guys over a soccer match there really was nothing to report. You spent the evening with Maria and her friends, drinking and dancing. Having a good time. 

They were decent enough people if you ignored the way they all got their wealth. A little hard to relate too at times- you didn’t have a private jet or a house with a huge pool but Maria’s friends were surprisingly friendly and once the jokes about being a gringa were out the way they seemed to like you. 

There was no information but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a well worth evening. You had their trust now. That would be invaluable moving forward. 

--

It was payday. Everyone you worked with was going out for the evening to let loose. You were with a large group of people from the office. Some you recognised, some you didn’t but either way you were having a great time chatting to people. The alcohol was cheap, the music was great and the company was perfect. Nobody here complained that their dad wouldn’t let them import Italian handbags anymore or that their pool wasn’t big enough. You felt much more at home here, amongst peers and friends.

After a few hours of chatting to people, you retreated to a table with Javier and Steve. Eventually even Steve left, leaving just you and Javi alone. You were drunk, no other word for it. Your eyes were heavy, a grin plastered on your face and you swayed in your seat to the music listening to Javi talk. 

You rested your hand on your head and watched Javier for a moment. He looked very handsome, as he did nearly every day. He wore a blue jean jacket, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing off his tan skin. You watched as he smoked a cigarette, watching girls at the bar. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, you wondered if you weren’t sitting here as his rookie if you would catch his attention. Before you could think, you asked the question aloud. 

“If I was just a random girl in the bar, would you hit on me?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“I’m not answering that!” Javier laughed, “I know you,”

“I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you?” You exclaimed, “Hot girls not your type?”

“You’re not my type,” Javier corrected you. You gasped dramatically.

“I’m taking offence to that! Your type is anything that breathes,”

“You think so little of me,” He shook his head solemnly.

“Baby I’ve known you for months now. You don’t have a type!” 

“Baby?” Javi smirked at you. 

“Shut up I’m drunk,” You dismissed him. 

“Well what if I ask the same question to you?”

“Would I hit on me? Absolutely!” You exclaimed.

“No! Would you hit on me?” 

“Nah,” You shook your head and screwed up your nose.

“Liar!”

“Am not!”

“Come on don’t pretend like you wouldn’t,” He said, “You’d be all over me,” The energy shifted as he looked at you. Immediate eye contact, his dark eyes looked you over quickly drawing you into him. He leant forward slightly as he readjusted himself on the chair and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb drawing your attention to them. Your breath hitched, lips parted and your eyes flickered to his lips. Was he going to kiss you? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and laughed, settling back in his chair. “See! You would,”

Dazed you shook your head and cleared your throat. Javi smiled smugly.“No, No! That's not fair! You being smoother than fucking peanut butter doesn’t mean I would hit on you if I saw you! You’re old and grumpy looking, I like my men young and energetic,”

“So I heard,” He said as he tipped his drink into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s gross,” You exclaimed when you finally realised what he meant.

“Goes both ways, Baby, if you can hear me I can hear you,”

“So you listen to me fuck?” You countered. Javi choked on his drink.

“N-no I-,” Javi stuttered ands tumbled over his words, blushing slightly

“You do! Dirty bastard!” You exclaimed. “Do you get off to it?” You asked, quieter now leaning in closer to him. Javi didn’t reply, taking a gulp of beer and breaking your eye contact. You laughed again, “Javier Peña speechless! Wow! Pretty sure I can retire now and I’d be happy,”

“I’m getting another drink,” He grumbled, getting up from the table.

“Tequila please, Baby!” You called after him. 

—

You woke up with the worst hangover you had ever felt. Before you really opened your eyes you darted to the bathroom to throw up. You groaned into the toilet bowl, annoyed at yourself more than anything that you had gotten so drunk. You didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember leaving the bar. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Javi drinking tequila like it was water. The memory made you gag again, how did he ever get you to drink tequila?

You padded into your tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, and start your usual fix all hangover cure. Salted chips and Coca Cola. The sugar and salt combination would do wonders and had saved you multiple times after a heavy night before training back home. You found a bag of chips in the cupboard but no cola. In fact, your fridge was practically empty, bar an old jar of salsa that you were pretty sure had been sitting there since before you arrived in Colombia. The idea of having to go out to the shop made you want to cry. You rested your head on the fridge door and groaned as another pulse shot through your skull. Then you had an idea, the Murphy’s would probably have some! 

You could tolerate seeing other humans at least for a few minutes. So you pulled a pair of shorts on and a vaguely clean t-shirt, took your keys and went across the hall to your favourite couple. The hallway was bright as sunlight streamed through the open window, you winced and shielded your eyes. You knocked twice on the door, the established knock for friends, and took deep breaths as you tried to not give into the need to throw up again. After a moment, Connie opened the door, a wide grin on her face when she saw your fragile state.

“Good night?” She teased you. You frowned and pouted at her.

“Remind me never to go out with Javi alone ever again,  I can’t remember leaving that bar,” You groaned. “Do you have any pain killers? And some cola,”

“Cola?”

“Yeah. Cola and salted chips, the best hangover cure. Got the chips but no cola and the idea of going outside today makes me want to off myself,”

“Come on in I’ll see what I’ve got. The boys are in there,” She let you into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen. Javi and Steve sat on the couch watching TV in the living room, the noise made you wince.

“Afternoon Rookie,” Steve greeted you smugly. You grimaced and leant on the arm of the couch next to him.

“What's the score?” You asked, watching the soccer match on screen for a few moments. 

“3-3,” Steve answered.

“I’ve got Pepsi, that's okay?” Connie called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah! Anything’s fine,” You called back.

“Can’t you go buy yourself cola instead of stealing mine?” Steve complained.

“Your wife said I could have it Murphy, suck it up,” You shove his shoulder weakly, “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I step into direct sunlight I’ll burn to ash. I’m taking your cola and retreating to my bed,”

“What did you two even get up to after I left?” 

“Ask him, I cannot remember,” you laughed. 

Javi looked up briefly, took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged. He looked as rough as you felt. Neither of you had come out particularly well.

“Here you go sweetheart,” Connie returned to the living room with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand and a small box of painkillers.

“You’re a star Connie what would I do without you,” You stood up from the couch and took the items from your friend. “Later boys,”

“See ya Monday Rookie!” Steve called after you. 

Next Chapter -->

--

oop Rookie and Javi flirting?!? Could never. Also coming next week this ish is getting a whole lot angstier again. I can never keep things nice for long haha

Tagging:  @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls​ @urbankaite2​ @whataloadofmalarkey​ @ahsofka​​ @yeetus-my-feetus​ @sara-alonso​ @lesbianlena​ @xiao-lusi​ @all-good-things-have-an-ending​ @eternallyvenus​ @ajeff855 @mayangel19​ @1950schick​

[mercy-burning]

I Felt A Burning (Songbird Chapter 3)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As it turns out, distance makes the heart grow fonder. Reader finds herself missing Spencer while he’s away, so the two of them find unique ways to spend time with one another. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, male and female masturbation, squirting), Language Word Count: 6.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each new chapter)

NOTE: Sorry this is a little late.. This series is giving me a rough time at the moment, so I’ll probably need a little time to work out some of the kinks (pun intended?) but I’m still very excited to share the rest with you, because I do think it’s going to end up being one of my favorite things I’ve ever written!

So, this month I’m going to take some time to work on requests for my 1k celebration (More info on that here if you want to check it out and send in some requests), and once they’re all complete, I’ll come back to Songbird! It’s not technically on hold, but chapter updates will probably stay pretty spread out while I try to make each one the best they can be 🥰

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

***

"I've never seen him this attached to his phone, it's almost like he's a whole different person."

I don't think JJ realized I could hear her, and she probably thought I wasn't paying attention. To be fair, I wasn't paying that much attention. But I had to be cautious; As much as I loved texting with Y/N, I knew what my friends would do if they found out the nature of our conversations. Or that I was texting a woman outside of a professional setting... Or that I was texting a woman at all.

"I wonder who could have him that caught up," I heard Emily say.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I spoke up, keeping my eyes locked on my screen. "Her name is Sudoku. It's something to do to pass the time."

"Oh, so he is alive," Emily quipped, and everyone laughed. I even let out a little smile. "Why invest money in a smartphone when you don't even like the technology? I mean, you can buy puzzle books for like a dollar a piece, anyway..."

The first time Y/N texted me a... rather scandalous photo of herself, I'd ended up having to wait until I got home, transferring and downloading the file to my computer there because I couldn't get it on my phone. And then she called me and said that if we were going to do this properly I needed to be able to see the photos while I was away, otherwise there wouldn't be a point.

And the funny thing was, I didn't hesitate to purchase a smartphone immediately after we hung up.

I have to say, it was really handy. Sure, it was still taking some getting used to. And I much preferred my old phone, but getting to experience these rather adventurous text exchanges with her made it all worth it.

"Endless puzzles on the free app is much cheaper than buying a new book every few days. It's not bad," I finally said.

Just as Derek mentioned something about Penelope finally 'bringing me to the dark side', my phone buzzed in my hand and my heart buzzed in my chest.

The rest of the team talked amongst themselves, leaving me to 'my game' and I was glad to have a cover.

But when I opened the message and saw the photo Y/N sent me, I felt like the most obvious person in the world. Surely there was no way that no one else didn't know what I was looking at, right? Because I felt my face get hot, and something equally warm stirred in my lower stomach.

Shifting my bag over my lap just in case, I swallowed and examined the photo further.

The camera framed her body from the top of her mouth to her chest. She was completely bare, her bottom lip formed in a pout and saliva leaking out and down her chin. My eyes followed the trail down to her exposed breasts, where a round, red lollipop was covering her right nipple. I could barely see her piercing from behind it.

My phone buzzed again with another photo attachment, this time revealing a different angle. The lollipop was positioned right above her clit, just barely touching it, and looked like she was dripping wet. Immediately I wondered whether or not she'd touched herself with the lollipop, and if so, had she tasted herself on the candy? What did it taste like? Would she be willing to let me try when I landed and could finally see her again?

My phone buzzed a third time, and it almost scared me. This time it was just a text: I hope you appreciated those. It was far less sexy to take them than you'd probably think. Definitely more sticky, too. Gonna take a shower. Might send you some more, if you can handle it. —Stranger

I tried not to smile too hard, fully aware of my friends on the other side of the jet, and texted back as discreetly as I could: I always appreciate the effort. As for what I can handle, you'll come to find I'm full of surprises.

It didn't take long for a response to show up: Well, I'll just have to test that out when you come back to me, won't I, Doc?

My breath caught, and I don't think I'd ever wished for the plane to land faster than I did at that moment. I thought about asking when we were expected home, but figuring that might be a little more suspicious, I thought better of it and decided to wait it out.

I messaged her back: Text you when we land, and then pulled up the Sudoku puzzle app to keep myself busy until I could see her in person.

***

Maybe it was a little ridiculous dressing up for someone when they were just going to take it off of you almost immediately after walking through the door, but for one thing, I needed to wear something while I waited for him to get here.

And for another, it made me feel sexy, and in the end that's all I needed to know.

I wore a matching white lace bra and underwear set with high stockings. It was simple, but as I'd learned over the past month, Spencer really liked white on me. So I knew this was a good option, even if ultimately he didn't care what I wore (or didn't wear). To leave it a little surprise, I threw on a robe and read on the couch until he would text me.

But even as my book was open in my lap, my eyes didn't scan the pages. Instead I stared off into space, thinking about what a month it had been.

A whole month, and everything was going great. Not that I expected it to be awful or anything, but over time, even though Spencer and I had strictly been sleeping together without any strings, every time he was gone I felt like something was missing.

It confused the hell out of me.

And not because he wasn't worth missing—that actually wasn't the case. It was the fact that I was the one missing him at all that confused me. I mean, it was obvious from the beginning of our sexual relationship that I was willing to break a few rules of mine just to be around him, but... Feeling these things so soon? Missing his presence when he wasn't near me?

It was all so unfamiliar and completely different from any relationship I'd been in before, and a large part of me wanted to stop it all together. But really, I knew that was ridiculous, because nothing was wrong. He always respected my wishes, he made me feel good, and he was always kind and reassuring. He even bought a brand new fucking phone just so we could sext while he was away. It was obvious that he would have done a lot for me, and for the sake of keeping our arrangement steady... And from the little I did know about him, he seemed like the type of person who would be totally understanding about any issue I had, whether it was of a sexual nature or not.

Simply put, he was perfect.

So why did I not want to let him in? Why was it so fucking hard for me to believe that I could actually date him like a normal person and be okay?

Maybe I just needed to take things slow. I could do that, right?

Yeah. I totally could.

When he got here, the first matter of business, of course, would be to have sex with him. Because he'd been away for almost a week now, and the whole time we texted back and forth about all the things we wished we could do to each other. And his job was stressful, so whenever he came back he liked to relieve some of that stress, which I was more than willing to give him. No matter my conflicted feelings, our arrangement was so solid that I had no doubts about what would happen the second he walked through my door.

And then, when it was all over, he would leave. He always did, even if I sometimes asked him to stay until I fell asleep. But maybe tonight I could tell him to stay and fall asleep with me instead. That would be a good first step, right? I could explain how he must be exhausted from work and travelling, so he should just rest and I would be willing to let him sleep in bed beside me.

Yeah. That was a good plan.

Except, what would I do in the morning, then? Would everything be awkward? Would he get up before me and leave before I even woke up? And if that was the case, would he leave another note? Maybe he would still be asleep when I woke up, and then I could make him breakfast or something. Mayb—

My phone went off beside me, snapping me out of my excessive thinking. Thank God...

I read the text with a smile forming as soon as I saw his name at the top of the screen: Be at your place in 20 minutes.

After sending back a winking-face emoji, I set my phone on the table and put the book next to it. And then I took a deep breath and reminded myself to take it easy. Everything was going to be just fine.

Everything was going to be just fine.

I must have repeated it to myself over and over until he actually showed up, because it felt like only a minute had passed before a knock sounded at the door.

"It's me!" Spencer called out, and my heart raced.

Even as I strode over to the door, I couldn't seem to slow the fast pace of my heartbeat. And when I opened the door to see him with a brighter-than-the-sun smile, I thought it might completely burst out of my chest.

"Hey, Stranger," I whispered, stepping aside to let him in. As soon as the door closed, he leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I couldn't resist. I grabbed his face and pulled his lips to mine, kissing him deeply and with as much care as I could convey. He dropped his bag and melted into me completely, wrapping his arms around my lower back and pulling me closer to him. In turn I melted into him, sighing into his mouth.

I couldn't tell you how long we stayed like that, standing at the front door and making out like he'd just come back from war. It felt like it could have been forever, but however long it was, I couldn't have cared any more or less. It was perfect.

His hands slid down my back and splayed over the curve of my ass, making me laugh against his mouth. I felt him smile before he pulled away just a little, just enough to keep our noses touching.

"I missed you," he said simply, though with those three words alone it felt like it was complex and enduring enough to chip away at the walls I put up.

And strangely I didn't mind. When he was here, touching me, smiling at me, speaking to me, I felt... serene. It was like the stillest water you could imagine—no ripples, no waves... Just clear water, so still it was like a horizontal mirror.

"Missed you more," I drawled out, running my hands through his hair and rubbing my nose against his. "I even wore something special."

"You did?" he mused, running his hands back over my back and then around to the front of the robe I'd put on over my lingerie. He probably already noticed the stockings, unless he was just as blindsided as I'd been by the fact that we were finally together again that he didn't actually notice. But either way, his whole body went still when he pulled my robe away and took me in. I anchored myself to him by holding his hands, studying his face as it looked me up and down and grew stronger with desperation with every passing second.

"You like it?" I finally asked.

The mood almost completely shifted when he met my eyes. I could have sworn they grew darker.

"I like you," he breathed, right before he reached forward, grabbing my face with both his hands, and kissing me again. This time it was primal, every nerve in my body going numb at the way he practically consumed me. It was all hands and tongue and teeth and warmth.

I clutched onto his shirt, pulling his body closer to mine as I was desperate to be connected to him on every physical level. A gravelly moan slipped my mouth when he reached behind my head and lightly tugged at the roots of my hair, to which he tugged a little harder. I returned the favor, using my other hand to mirror the hair pulling he was performing on me, and he groaned almost as intensely as I did.

I didn't even know we were at the kitchen table until I was sitting on it, my legs instinctively wrapping around Spencer's waist and my arms doing the same to his neck. His tongue slipped into my mouth with ease, just like it had a million times before. And it was just as intoxicating.

He moved his hand to my back, sliding around the clasp of the bra before he paused and pulled away, studying my face. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but with the way his hands slid over my body like they were merely exploring, I had a feeling it was going to work out in my favor.

"You got all dressed up just for me, I'd feel bad to make you take it off," he mused, finally letting his eyes roam the length of my body.

"Whatever are we going to do about that," I mused right back, biting my lip when he met my eyes again.

His lips twitched into a smirk for a brief second before he moved his hands to unbuckle his pants. "I guess you'll just have to keep them on while I fuck her right here on the table."

I couldn't help the excited whimper that came out of my mouth as I leaned back on my hands and waited for him to get situated. My hand drifted to my panties, sliding them aside and dipping my middle finger through my pussy. "Did you like the pictures I sent you?"

I knew his answer was yes, but I wanted to get him more excited, and it seemed to do the trick—I could have sworn I saw his hands move faster, finally pushing his pants down as he took a step closer to me.

"Y/N, I have an eidetic memory, which basically means that I remember everything I see. Those pictures? They've been burned into my brain since I saw them, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about how badly I wanted to be with you again."

Each and every word fell heavy with this burning desire that set my whole body aflame. Added to the way he looked at me with the same intensity, it was practically the perfect formula for my destruction. And the fact that he could just vividly remember everything I sent him? Every picture, every time he saw me in the flesh—desperate for him... God, it was all so fucking exciting. And that was putting it lightly, because no words could ever have been beautiful or poetic enough to describe the way this man made me feel.

It all must have been written all over my features, because Spencer stared down at me and hummed amusedly His hands reached out to spread my legs by my knees, his touch sending shivers all throughout my body.

I reached out to grip his dick, slowly stroking it as I bit my lip and blinked up at him. "You have no idea how much I missed you this week," I got out, barely above a whisper.

"Oh, I think I do," he answered, right before he stepped forward and slid my panties aside. We both moved together then, me leaning forward to meet him as he brought his hips forward and ran his dick slowly along the opening of my pussy. He slapped it gently over my clit a few times, making me whimper out again which in turn made him smile a little. "How bad do you want it, pretty girl?"

"I want it bad," I answered simply, my voice low and on the verge of begging.

He seemed happy with that answer, a low hum coming from his throat in approval as he ran the tip of his dick through me again. And when he pushed it in just slightly, I wiggled under him in anticipation."

"Eager, are we?" he mused, stilling and bringing his thumb to gently circle my clit.

I threw my head back with an exasperated sigh that I only slightly truly meant in earnest. "Hell yeah, I'm eager. You promised to fuck me on the table, so when are you gonna deliver?"

Without another word, he slammed forward into me, and I gasped out, already falling apart at the burning I felt throughout my whole body.

"You're gonna regret being impatient, you know," Spencer grumbled, though the way I knew I had him practically wrapped around my finger told me that his threat was nothing more than a string of words that would fray and unravel into nothing once I got a tug on it.

And tug on it I did. Because he may have been the one currently obliterating me on my kitchen table, but the second I started talking, I knew he'd be just as ruined—maybe even a little more, though at the very least it would be an even playing field.

So I clenched around him as he continued fucking me at a brutal pace, spreading my legs wider and moaning out maybe a little too dramatically. "Oh, you've missed this tight little cunt, haven't you, baby boy?"

His arms wrapped around my legs and he scooted me closer, giving him a deeper angle inside me as a strangled moan rolled past his lips and his eyes almost rolled back. "Fuck, Y/N, I..."

As the words struggled to come out, I laughed, puffing my chest out and tilting my head to the side. "That's right... That's fuckin' right..."

It really didn't take long for either of us to reach orgasm, between our banter and the sheer force at which he drove into me while I clenched around him every so often, matching his rhythm perfectly despite how staggered everything was becoming with every passing second.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," I breathed, reaching a hand out to graze his stomach with my fingertips. "I'm gonna cum..."

"Me, t— shit..."

Feeling him spill over inside me as I came around him reminded me just how much I missed having him with me, because no matter how good I made myself feel with a vibrator while he was away, nothing ever compared to that feeling; How full he made me feel, how tingly I felt when he moaned out my name, how warm his hands were as they gripped my skin to keep himself steady as he just fucking gave it all to me until there was nothing left... It was all so intense that I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to recover.

Which was why, even after he pulled out of me, I laid back on the table completely, letting my legs dangle off. My eyes closed as I tried to catch my breath and eventually I let out a breathy laugh.

"Fuck, man, maybe we should spend time apart more often, because that was..."

The weight of what I'd said didn't even really hit me until his phone started to ring, and I remembered my plan, that spending time apart was actually what I didn't want and I was supposed to tell him to stay...

I sat up and watched as he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his pants, which were on the floor. He pulled them up with him as he stood up again, murmuring a quick 'sorry' to me before taking the call.

I could see his ants were struggling to stay up, so I reached out and grabbed him by the belt loop, pulling him to me and buttoning his pants up for him as he spoke.

"Yeah, Hotch?" he said, smiling down at me because of what I was doing. I smiled right back with a wink, fixing up and straightening out his pants before I saw his smile falter.

A ball of disappointment started to roll in the pit of my stomach as I heard Spencer say, "Oh..." rather sadly. If I had to take a guess, he was probably being called into work again so soon, and once again I would be left alone.

"O—Okay, I'll be right in," he said, confirming my suspicions. Once he said goodbye, He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled at me apologetically. "Sorry I have to leave so soon, I was hoping to spend at least a little more time together before I left."

And I was kind of hoping I'd ask you to stay... "Oh, it's okay... I guess... absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

We both laughed a little, though it was clear the mood was still a bit dismal. So to lighten it I sat up a bit straighter and smirked, spreading my legs a little and feeling his cum slowly drip out. "Well, why don't you take a picture or two? Something to remember me by?"

I could tell he appreciated the playfulness I put forth, but he didn't take his phone out. "That's the thing about having an eidetic memory, I won't need a picture. Anytime I want, I can just remember you like this. Plus, I won't risk anyone else seeing anything."

I scoffed with a smile. "Please... I would hope you aren't looking at the pictures I send you in a room full of your colleagues."

"I don't. But I do work with a bunch of profilers, all of whom would just love to tease me until the end of time if they ever discovered what I was doing with you in my free time."

I was going to say something, but he cut me off, stepping forward and bringing his hand down to brush against the inside of my thigh. "But, if it'll make you feel better... I can give you something to remember me by..."

"What's that?" I breathed out, looking up at him as his hand travelled to my pussy.

He dipped his middle finger inside of me and felt around, leaning forward until his lips were barely brushing mine. My whole body seemed like it was going to crumble down at any given second, when he spoke quietly. "A taste."

"Of... what?"

He brought his finger out of me and brought it to my lips, and I took it in without even thinking. I groaned around him as he spoke again, his gaze unwavering and downright life-ruining. "Us. This is what we taste like together... A perfect harmony. Don't you think?"

I wanted to tell him that he wouldn't know because he hadn't actually tasted it himself, but the whole thing was so fucking hot that I didn't even bother arguing. I just sat there, whining around his finger as he all but stared into my soul.

His finger slipped out of my mouth and ran along my chin as he tilted it up. "I want you to clean yourself up just like that. You can send me a picture when you're done so I can see, yeah?"

"And... What if I don't?"

Spencer smiled knowingly, taking one more swipe of his finger through me before bringing it to his own lips, sucking it clean like anyone would have with food, and stepping back from me completely. "You will."

He left, and I could have sworn I felt my soul leave my body.

***

I'm not sure where that came from, exactly. But Y/N had brought out this other side of me that was almost jarring as much as it was sexy. She was everything seductive and enticing that the world had to offer, and it fueled me in a way I couldn't explain. In fact, I was almost positive she wouldn't send any pictures, because what the hell kind of request was that? I certainly never would have thought of it before, but she gave me all these filthy thoughts and ideas that I never would have been able to dream up otherwise.

Which, precisely, is why I was second-guessing everything. I focused on what work we had to do, of course, but once we were settled in on the jet and on our way to the next city, I brought out my phone to text her.

But I wasn't sure what I would say. I'd have to find a way to apologize, of course, in case my request had been too weird, and that I definitely should have asked her if she was okay with me telling her what to do like that. I knew about dominant and submissive dynamics in sex of course, but that's not the type of relationship we had. And, to be completely honest, if anyone was going to be the dominant role in that dynamic, it most definitely would have been her. While I could be confident and somewhat in control when we had sex, and while sometimes she took on a rather submissive approach to our sessions and I found myself deeply turned on by that, I was not confident in my dominant side. I never could take full control like that, and with some of the things I've seen and experienced from Y/N, that role was definitely better suited for her than me.

But in the end it all came down to us trying new things. Or... rather, me trying new things. I figured she was way more experienced than me from the beginning, and that still remained true, though by the reaction I've had from her a few times, especially after tonight, it seemed I'd shaken her up a bit.

Whether that was a good thing or not would be dependent on how this conversation went.

I turned on my phone to see that I had three photos and one video attachment. My heartbeat picked up immediately, and I quickly shut it off to compose myself, already having a feeling of what might be there.

About a minute later, I got up to use the bathroom while everyone was catching up on some sleep. This was a bit of a longer flight than we were used to, so it kind of worked in my favor. But just to be safe, I snuck in the earbuds that came with the phone as well.

Once the door was shut, I leaned back against it and plugged in the earbuds, simultaneously trying to navigate through the phone to get to my messages. And once I was situated, I put the earbuds in and looked at the pictures first.

The first one could only be described as a 'before' photo, showcasing her pussy exactly how I left it, and that alone was enough to start a stirring in stomach. I examined the picture intently, feeling myself grow harder in my pants, and I knew this was dangerous. But somehow that made it all the more exciting. It was a good thing I decided to stay in the bathroom.

The second photo showed Y/N's middle and pointer fingers spreading herself wide, everything exposed and glistening. I looked at that one longer, but the third one took me out and made me slump my head against the door with a soft groan. She was pouting slightly, her bottom lip dripping with what was obviously the cum I'd left her with. I didn't even want to watch the video, because I knew once I did I'd be a goner. I didn't even know exactly what it would be, but it didn't matter, because no matter what Y/N did she would tear down every defense I had. Everything I thought I knew, my ability to think straight, all of it would be gone with one word—Hell, one look.

I managed to take a deep breath before opening the video and adjusting the volume. And knowing it was probably going to do some damage to me, I stood in front of the toilet, making sure the door was locked before taking my dick out of my pants and slowly starting to stroke it.

Through the screen, I saw that Y/N had repositioned the camera so that I had a full-body view of her on her kitchen table. I wasn't sure how she was able to keep her phone propped up or where it was, but as she started to move, I didn't really care one way or the other.

"I've already sent you some pictures, which I hope you looked at first, but I figured this would be... better proof," she was saying, her legs spreading wide so I had a perfect view of everything. She brought her hand down to circle her clit a few times, and the longer she went on, the louder and more obscene the sounds were.

"Fuck," I breathed as quietly as I could, taking everything in as my hand worked my dick a little faster. I could have watched her do just that forever.

But she went the next step, plunging two fingers inside herself and pumping them in and out slowly. Every once in a while she removed her hand and cleaned off her fingers, looking into the camera and burning a hole straight through me as she moaned.

"You're right," she said, scooping up more of our mess and spreading it around. "We do taste perfect. I think I'm gonna savor it for a while... Take my time."

Her fingers were torturously slow, and even though she taunted, I knew it was killing her, because it was written all over her face—her whole body, really. As her face contorted and her body seemed to shake, I wanted to tell her through the phone that she could go faster, that she didn't have to make it this hard, but I couldn't. All I could do was watch, and listen as she fingered herself and all of it was burning me up from the inside out.

By the time two minutes had passed, it looked like my cum was gone, but she was still going, determined to bring herself to release another time. Her fingers moved fast and hard, the glorious wet sounds combining symphonically with her moans and whimpers. As I could see her getting close, it was like I was there with her, feeling myself get there as well. I knew it wouldn't be long now, though I wished we could have done this forever. And if I was being honest with myself, I was probably going to do this more than once as long as we were still seeing each other.

What happened next surprised me, because... well, simply put, I wasn't expecting it. And I don't think she was either, because the pure blissful shock that plastered over her features as she tensed and squirted almost sent me into cardiac arrest.

I came then, trying desperately to keep quiet as I took in the image of Y/N coming undone right with me.

I was catching my breath when she sighed out with a smile and a laugh. She looked exhausted, but completely blissful and serene all the same as she spoke. "Fuck, I didn't expect that... But next time it happens, I want you here with me. Got it, Stranger?"

Although she couldn't hear me, I responded with a light, yet truly sincere, "Yes, Ma'am."

***

The studio had been empty for hours, and nothing ever made me happier. Truthfully, it was always my favorite part of the work day, when I went in early, when the sun was still below the horizon and almost everyone was still asleep. That was when I felt most creative, and after about two hours of messing around on the piano and acoustic guitar, I was still going strong.

Maybe I had Spencer to blame for that. For a week now he'd been gone, extremely busy with work, and I didn't get to see him in person, but we sent texts and pictures and videos all the time. Just last night we even video-chatted for a good three hours before he inevitably had to return to his job. And while I missed him, if anything I think the distance was good. Because while we spent time communicating, I was also able to focus on work and myself, and I didn't constantly have to worry about things moving too fast. Things couldn't move fast if there wasn't any physical contact, right?

I mean, sure, At this point I was practically craving his touch and his presence, but I knew that once we did get to see each other again, it would be practically electric. There was so much we'd talked about over the phone that we would probably have enough to keep us busy until he got called away again. And then the cycle would repeat.

But maybe that was wishful thinking. I liked this system, even if we hadn't really been at it for long. All I knew, though, was that it was currently working, and I was feeling incredible about my life in its current state.

I wished it could have stayed that way forever.

By the time Jules walked in, I'd written about two songs and was currently working on a third. The studio was littered with sticky-notes and notebook paper from all the ideas I had, and she shrugged off her thin jacket with a laugh. "How many songs has it been today?"

I set the guitar down and went to pick up some of the notes, organizing them haphazardly. "Two. Working on a third."

"Damn, Y/N, you've been on a roll this week. Hell, all month. So... Who's the inspiration?"

Shoving some of the notes into a folder, I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Jules sat down at the large coffee table in the middle of the room and spread out, shaking her head slightly to the side to removed the auburn bangs from her eyes. "I'm a musician, too, Y/N, I know when inspiration strikes, and I especially know when it's because of a certain someone. So... Who are they?"

I hesitated saying anything, but Jules was right, and there was no way I'd be able to convince her nothing in particular was happening. So, I tried to keep it as vague as possible. "Oh, uh, this guy I met at a bar at open mic night."

She whistled as I took a seat across from her. "Damn... The sex must be pretty good if you're cranking out songs like an industrial machine."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but I nodded all the same. "Well, you'd be right. It's, uh... it's going pretty well."

"I'll say, you're practically glowing. Good for you, babe."

I could tell she wanted to say more, ask tons of questions (more specifically, when's the wedding?), but she knew me enough to refrain. She knew how I did with relationships, and she knew just how private I was. On multiple occasions she'd ask me why I was a musician if I didn't like sharing my personal life with people, but I'd always retorted with a simple truth: You didn't have to show anything to anyone if you didn't want to. There were thousands of different things to write about, and the beauty of storytelling was that you could create whatever you wanted, no matter how true it was to you.

As the day went on, and more of the writers for our friend's new album came in to work, I was pulled out of the 'relationship' headspace and plunged into work.

Honestly, I was relieved. Not because I didn't like thinking about Spencer, but the exact opposite.

That feeling wasn't something I was used to, and I wanted it to go away. At least while I was working, so I could focus on one thing at a time. I didn't let people in, and I didn't want to let them in if I could help it, and I certainly didn't like when things moved too fast, which they always seemed to do. And this time was no different, only now I think it was me who was starting to feel things too early.

It was searing. It was slowly starting to consume me, burning me from the inside out, and I didn't know what to do.

So I did the only think I did know how to do, and that was ignore it, replacing it with music, the one true comfort I'd ever known. I drowned myself in the cool ocean of work, merely hoping it would be enough to quell the frantic, petrifying, and rapidly growing wildfire that would surely be my downfall. And for a while it seemed like it was working.

And yet, somehow, by the time I left the studio, there was a dull ache in my chest that left me confused and scared.

Suddenly I was glad for that night we'd been interrupted before I asked him to stay, and that I never got the chance to follow through. I don't know what I would have done then. Because if that feeling, when he inevitably agreed and stayed the night, was anything like how I was feeling now, then it probably would have been a lot worse.

All the same, I came to the realization that no matter what I did or didn't do, he would always be there, taking up some amount of space in my being that refused to let go.

Whether I liked or not.

***

“I knew it when you looked my way That I’d be begging you to stay. I couldn’t say it to myself.

I felt a burning in the way I held on when you pulled away. I couldn’t say it to myself.

—Maggie Rogers, Say It

SERIES TAGLIST: @meowiemari @secretsilockaway​

Tags not working: @bluesunrise02 @teenwolfgirl90 

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:  @sanchita012 ​  @narrytheworld ​  @queenwalton   @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess   @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

[nautiscarader]

Six Ways from Sunday Sex (Marathon Sex) Love Square. Marinette and Adrien try to fuck in every room in the Agreste mansions in various combinations of civilian and super hero identities. From Making out and feeling each other up in the bedroom to fucking each other up against the window to give all of Paris a view.

Oooh, I’m liking this Sunday Six Sex thing. Good job anon, you might have started something GOOD.

(Ao3)

=============

- Kitty... We-We shouldn't be doing it here...

Ladybug spoke, hiding her moans, as Chat Noir kissed her neck, slowly drifting down. She wouldn't mind his caresses, if not for the fact that they were in the mansion of Adrien Agreste, who would graciously give them an audience soon . And yet, she couldn't find herself able to stop her lover from advancing his kisses that soon transformed into proper groping and massaging her body. To her horror, Ladybug realised that her body was responding to his demands, as her hand wandered to find a bulge between his legs.

As Chat pressed her against the marble, she let out a moan into his mouth, and when his tail coiled around them and the column, she knew they will cause a scandal soon.

================

- What? We're in the kitchen, aren't we suppose to eat here?

Chat Noir dived back underneath Marinette's apron, forcing her to tighten her grip on the counter.

- Ch-Chat! - she cried, biting her lip

Honestly, she didn't even know how did he find her here. One moment she was commissioned to make birthday cake for Adrien Agreste, next thing she knew, her lover pops out of nowhere and pins her to the fridge for a quickie. And the worst thing was, she couldn't refuse.

With his tongue lapping against her sex and delving between her folds, Chat was having a banquet, as a whole day of work made his girlfriend more than pent-up and eager for any sort of caresses. With each lick and kiss, Marinette rose just an inch above the counter, until she coated Chat's face with a glaze of her cum when her body gave in to the pleasure.

- O-Okay, Chat, n-now you have to g-g-

But Marinette shrieked when she saw Chat dragging his claw through the pristine layer of cream she *just* finished putting onto the cake.

- What? He could lose a few kilograms.

===========

 - Aah! Aah! Aah! Mon-Monsieur Agreste!

Marinette tried to lower her voice, already silenced by the sound of the washing machine, though the strength with which her master fucked her made the basket of laundry underneath her rattle against the shelves. She knew that soon the washing cycle will end and one other maid would come down here and find her, folded in half, with her legs swung onto Adrien Agreste’s shoulders. But there was much more pressing matter.

- I-I’m not-You’re not-What if- she stuttered between each thrusts - Then you will give me beautiful, blonde-haired babies

Adrien Agreste replied and sunk deeper into her, and her deeper into the laundry basket, her pussy tightened around him, sealing their union.

=============

Adrien could only hear one thing in his vast, empty library: the sound of his chair creaking underneath his random, erratic moves. Biting on the hem of his shirt, this is all he could do to withstand Lady Noire's challenge of staying silent while she loved him with her mouth. Oh, how she would love to fill the room with unabashedly erotic, slurping noises, as she slobbered all over Adrien's cock. But she made the rules, and she had to find other way of her tongue and mouth to caress his manhood, without smacking or kissing.

Her tongue ran across his exposed head, collecting salty droplets of precum that were forming, twitching with each pass. She gently pressed her lips against his tip to slip him inside her mouth without risking any sound. She repeated the same motion, waiting to strike her final blow, as her tongue brushed his slit.

The chair creaked again as Adrien's body stiffened, yet he did not make a sound, as he threw his head back. And soon, the loudest sound in the room were deep, guttural noises of Lady Noire swallowing his potent load, one stream at a time.

Until she realised how much was it and that she needed to take a breath.

She gasped, and as the last jet of cum shot her face, she yelped, hearing Adrien's victorious sigh. She was now on the ground, covered in cum, he was still hard, and she just lost.

==========

- Mhm, that's how I've always imagined our wedding night...

Marinette looked into the eyes of her lover, hidden behind his polka-dor mask, as he emerged from between her breasts. And yet, a moment later, he was kissing her again, pressing her into the big, comfy bed she now owned as well. Mister Bug continued his kisses, undoing the delicate pieces of her lingerie, until Marinette was naked, eager to start their marriage.

He reached her lower lips, and with each minute of his sensual foreplay, she was getting closer to her bliss, strengthened by the fact that they were doing it in the rich, opulent mansion they now had for themselves. She threw her head into the pillows and screamed his name, and found herself tasting her own juices on her lips, as he moved up, eager to continue.

- Do you have... - I got my lucky charm. - Mister Bug showed her the polka-dot-covered condom, and proceeded to clad his cock. - Good - Marinette spoke in low, alluring voice - Don't you worry, one day you will get to use your power of creation on me...

=========

- Come on, Adrien, do it! I-I want them to see!

Ladybug's needy, demanding moan, so different from her sweet voice awoken something in her boyfriend, who tightened his grip on her hips and pressed her body against the vast windows of the conference room. Underneath them was a promenade, filled with hundreds of people, walking towards the Eiffel Tower, and the young couple just proudly presented themselves to them.

The glass against Ladybug's face was hazed due to her panting, so she had to wipe it clean, just to ensure the people of Paris would see the grimace on her face as Adrien Agreste fucked her silly. The smaller window above them was open and she was hoping the citizens hear loud and clear every single plea she was giving to her lover.

- Fuck me! Rut me! I'm-I'm yours, Adrien Agreste! Make everyone know that!

And as his hand slid over her sex and toyed with her clit, her knees bend when her orgasm rolled through her body and she let out a wail that echoed with each dose of cum Adrien pumped inside her. Before their visions went white, they each saw a few people turning around, curious about the high-pitched cry, meaning her plan worked.

For the next, long minute, she let their joined bodies rock against each other, until she gave Adrien one last command to finish their lewd show. Though his legds were weak, he stepped back, parting their bodies, only so people could see the steady trickle of cum spilling from her twitching pussy. And when that ended, the two collapsed on the carpet, laughing and kissing.

- Can you imagine if Alya was there? She'd be having a field day. - "Protector of Paris an exhibitionist!" "Ladybug and Adrien Agreste openly make love for hundreds of people to see!", Ladybug giggled imagining what would have happened if the windows they were making love against weren't darkened.

She crawled on top of him and joined her lips in long, soothing kiss.

- Thank you, Adrien. - she spoke and stood up. - Pleasure is all mine, my lady.

He helped her get up, handed her a paper towel to clean their mess, but Ladybug was already ahead of him, putting on her costume, much to Adrien's confusion.

- Wait, shouldn't you-

But Ladybug has already opened the window, stood on the sill and jumped onto her yo-yo in the broad daylight, mere minutes after her orgasmic scream reached out. And knowing that some people will make the connection made her all giddy.  

[the-great-escapist99]

It’s All in the Past - Zuko x Reader

Part 26

Summary: University is starting in less than two weeks and Y/n is in need of a new place closer to campus. Thankfully, she learns an old friend is looking for a roommate. However, this old friend and her might have a lot more in common than she anticipated, which brings up quite a few complications...

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of rape

Word Count: 4k ish?

A/N: hey lovelies!! Another part of IAITP is finally here! I’m so sorry for the wait but I had a bit of writers block and this part was a doozy. I know this is technically a smau but this chapter is written out because I didn’t feel the smau format would do it justice. Anywho, I hope y’all enjoy and lmk what u think because u kno I’m a simp for your love and support🥺🥺💕💕

Zuko left the apartment at exactly 8:50pm. It was in his best interest not to take his car, and luckily for him it wouldn’t take long to walk to the location anyway. Merchant Street was about a 7 minute walk away and he knew exactly where to find the broken building; it was an old bank, abandoned about 30 years ago, although, he’s not sure why no one’s bought the land since then. He assumed the rendezvous point was the parking lot behind the building since it was secluded: perfect for an ambush.

Zuko knew this wasn’t a perfect plan... he knew that. But, he only had so many options, and right now this was the best one. Whoever had contacted him had information on him and that meant it was his problem to handle alone. He could understand why y/n was upset with him, and he knew she was only trying to help him, but he wouldn’t put her in a situation like this if he didn’t have to. If they were looking to hurt someone then it would only be him, and he was willing to go through with that if it meant keeping her out of it. Zuko knew what kinds of information they could have found, most of them he assumed were linked to his dad and the company; another reason why Azula would be the perfect person to contact if something went awry. He trusted his friends to keep an eye out for him; they were intelligent and resourceful and he knew they could handle themselves in this situation. He just hoped they would keep their promise and follow his instructions in a worst case scenario.

He came across Merchant Street and the building was in view. Here we go, he thought.

He wasn’t aware of the person trailing him.

***

The girls knew she was going after Zuko, but y/n didn’t tell Sokka or Aang. She couldn’t exactly trust them to keep their mouths shut if they knew she was leaving, or not to follow along as well, for that matter. Zuko was stubborn, of course, but she was too, and she wasn’t going to let him steal the title of being the strong, brave one of the group. That was her job! Toph could fight her on that title, sure, but she wouldn’t let Zuko have it, no sir! It was hers and that meant she had to follow him. Not because she cared about him obviously, it was about the glory! Okay, no it was because she cared about him. She’d admitted that to the girls and to him earlier anyway so she couldn’t lie to herself. She was worried for him.

Y/n crept out her window about a minute or two after Zuko had left, just to be sure he wouldn’t notice her. After that it was a trek to Merchant Street and to the broken building a few paces after. The night air was chilly so she was glad she’d grabbed her hoodie before climbing outside. It was October now, and even in the dying light she could see the trees start to change colours. It would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Maybe she’d ask Zuko to see it with her when this was all over.

The scenery reminded her a little of autumn with Zuko when they were kids. They’d spend the day with each other at school and then they’d go home and play games in y/n’s backyard. It was always at y/n’s house because Ursa never allowed them to play near her own. Y/n can understand why now, although she didn’t at the time; it’s probably better that she’d stayed away from Ozai as long as she did.

Zuko was a troublemaker when they were younger. But, there was one day in particular that she remembers where Zuko got himself into pretty deep shit, and he almost brought y/n down with him. The school bully had been messing around with the other kids more than usual that day. Usually, he didn’t bother with Zuko or her since Zuko was known for his fiery spirit and could easily take down anyone who tried to mess with him, and because y/n spent so much time with him no one dared to come for her out of fear of what Zuko might do. But, that day the bully was feeling particularly bold...

***

Zuko reached the back of the building. Across the lot he could make out four figures. As soon as they saw him approach they made their way over to meet him halfway. Once their faces became clearer, Zuko couldn’t believe what he was seeing; or rather who.

“Jet,” Zuko sneered.

“Hey pal. Long time no see.”

“What do you want?” Zuko eyed the other three cautiously. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Jet wouldn’t have brought backup if he wasn’t planning something. Though, Zuko was confident he could take them in a fight if need be.

“Touchy touchy, so eager to get to the point. That’s fine, I figured you would be,” Jet smirked. “Where’re your friends?”

“Not here.”

“Too bad. I was hoping I’d have an audience when I beat the shit out of you,” Zuko stiffened. “Well, not me exactly. My friends here were happy to take up the offer instead.”

“Why’s that? Scared I’ll break your nose a second time?”

At that, Jet growled. He looked like he was about ready to rush in a take a swing at Zuko, but stopped himself.

“Don’t you wanna know what I found?”

“I figured this meet up was more than just a friendly hello, so yeah,” Zuko never let his guard down as they spoke.

“It’s pretty well known that your dad went to prison, I’m not surprised about that. He was a bastard after all, seems to run in the family,” even though he hated his dad, the comment still made Zuko’s blood boil. There were plenty of people in his family who he loved and respected, and he wouldn’t tolerate insults toward them from anybody, let alone this asshole. “But, it looks like there was some pretty illegal shit that went down in the company before he left. The same company you recently took over, am I right?”

“Get to the point, Jet.”

“I don’t think the public would much appreciate it if they knew the kinds of things your company did while your dad was in charge.”

“Like you said, it was when my dad was in charge. Things are different now.”

“It doesn’t make any difference. People don’t care who was in charge when scandals happen, they just care that they happened, and they’ll blame you for it. It’ll ruin you, Zuko.”

“You’re insane.”

Jet laughed, “That’s true.”

“I’ll ask again, then: what do you want?”

“I want my pride back. That night you took y/n away from me hurt, pal. It’s your turn.”

***

Y/n reached the front of the broken building. She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn’t realize she was already there. The place already felt foreboding, and she was hoping whatever she saw behind the building wouldn’t scare her. Not that she was scared; in fact, she was gearing up to tackle anyone who would dare to hurt her man. Yes, her man. Y/n crept around the side of the building, making sure to keep her body pressed against the brick walls. She could hear the commotion before she saw it, and she poked her head around the corner to watch what was happening.

Zuko, in all his glory, was taking on three guys in a fight while a fourth stood back and watched. Most people didn’t know this about Zuko, but he’d been taking different forms of combat classes since he was little, they both had. The difference was that y/n was much more open about it. So, y/n wasn’t surprised to see Zuko handling the three men with ease, though she was still worried. One thing she had learned was that it didn’t matter how well trained you were... one slip up could be fatal. In this case, she was more angry with him than anything else. She knew it would be dangerous and she had told him that, but he didn’t listen. She just wished she had gotten here earlier so she could understand what their motive was. That’s when she began to analyze who exactly these people were to Zuko, but she immediately regretted that decision when she really looked at the face of the fourth person.

Her heart stopped and her blood ran cold when she recognized him. It was Jet. That slimy bastard was the one behind this whole thing. Of course he was! Zuko must have humiliated Jet more than he let on that night, and while that put a bit of a smile on her face, she wasn’t any more relieved about the situation. Then, her heart stopped a second time, but for a different reason.

Zuko had made a mistake.

A small stone had caught underneath Zuko’s shoe in the darkening space making him stumble just slightly, but it was enough for the other three men to take the advantage. Jet laughed loudly as his ‘friends’ began to pummel Zuko. There was a sickening gleam in his eyes and y/n almost panicked remembering it as the same look he gave her the night of his party. Zuko fell harshly to the ground as the largest of the three men struck him on the side of the head.

No, she thought, fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey!” Y/n yelled running out of her place behind the wall of the building and into the open parking lot. “Stop it!” The men stopped their assault momentarily.

“I thought you’d said none of your friends were coming, Zuko,” Jet sneered. “I’m not mad about this particular friend showing up, though. Makes things more exciting, if you know what I mean.”

Zuko didn’t move much from his position on the ground, but he flicked his eyes up to y/n’s own when he’d heard her voice. At first, there was anger in his expression, and honestly y/n wasn’t surprised to see that, but slowly it turned to worry and regret.

“Y/n what are you doing?!” Zuko’s voice gave a hint of something almost desperate, like he wanted her to leave, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Even now, she was looking for ways to frustrate the shit out of him; this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

“Well, listen, I know you said not to come with, but honestly it was a little boring without you at home so... here I am!” She gave him a half smirk, Zuko just glared back. “Besides, if I’d known it was Jet who called you here I definitely wouldn’t have let you go by yourself.”

“Trust me, if I’d known it was Jet I wouldn’t have come myself at all.”

“Awe sugar,” Jet interrupted then, directing his words toward y/n, “I love that you’re still thinking about me. Although, I’m a little hurt you chose Zuko here over me, especially considering his history.”

“I told you! I wasn’t even in charge at the ti- argh!” Zuko’s sentence was cut off by a boot to his chest. He began coughing harshly. Y/n looked menacingly at the man responsible, striding forward a few steps.

“I told you to stop,” she growled.

“Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?” the man spoke to her with a chuckle. He was quite large, broad in the shoulders, and his voice was deep. Y/n wasn’t very intimidated, if she was being honest. She was more focused on Jet than the other three; he was unpredictable.

“I don’t think you wanna find out what I’m gonna do, so I’ll tell you one last time to lay off!”

The man drew his head back in a loud laugh, his friends snickering behind him.

“Jet, do you believe this bitch?” facing Jet, who didn’t speak, but stared blankly at y/n. The man then turned back to face her himself. “Your boyfriend didn’t stand a chance against us, what makes you think you could do anything?”

Y/n didn’t say anything further to the man. She stared him down, but with a relaxed form. This somehow made him incredibly angry. With one last shove to Zuko’s side, he stalked over to y/n with his chest puffed out. Still, y/n didn’t flinch or move from her position. When he was within arms distance he reached out to grab her, only for y/n to move out of the way just slightly, taking his outstretched arm and tossing him over her shoulder. Although he was much larger than she was, it wasn’t hard to shift herself into a position where he would be at her mercy. As his body flung forward and crashed onto the ground, he stared up at her in shock. He only registered his pain when she took his arm and yanked it to the side. At this point, the other two men had taken their focus off of Zuko to help their struggling comrade. Y/n took care of them just as easily.

Although Zuko had seen y/n fight before, he didn’t realize how much she’d improved since then. It was like watching a dance; a beautifully coordinated and mesmerizing dance. Her movements flowing and graceful, despite the fact that she was taking on three men twice her size. But, Zuko still felt the need to protect her with everything he had, even if she could take these men with her eyes closed. So, he tried to stand. The first thing he noticed was the pain in his chest like a sharp knife was gnawing at his insides; he must have broken a rib or two. Not the first time it’s happened, so Zuko shook off his discomfort and deemed it unimportant for the time being. His priority was y/n.

The second thing he noticed was the pounding in his head once he got himself upright. This made it difficult for him to focus properly, which is why when a figure came up from behind him he wasn’t quick enough to react. Jet pushed Zuko back down to the ground, Zuko landing flat on his stomach, his face pressed into the cement. Jet’s foot landed squarely on Zuko’s back, eliciting a painful groan from the pressure put on his ribs. His foot stayed there, pinning Zuko to the ground and ever so slightly increasing the pressure to his chest. At some point the pressure became too much and Zuko cried out unintentionally.

Y/n whipped her head around at the sound of Zuko’s cry. The fight was basically over and it didn’t seem like these men had much else to offer her, so she knew she could take her eyes off of them for now to focus on the real problem: Jet. As it so happened, he was the cause of Zuko’s shout, his foot pressed into the center of his back keeping him pinned to the rock-hard ground.

“Jet, get off him. Now.”

“Or what, sugar-tits? You gonna punish me?”

Zuko squirmed underneath Jet’s hold, fury emitting from him at the way Jet was speaking to y/n. He would not hesitate to beat the man again if he got the chance. Y/n just rolled her eyes, she knew what Jet was trying to do.

“You sure you wanna try that? Did you even see what I just did to your friends?”

As if in response, the three men groaned from the ground behind her.

“You know,” Jet spoke, “you’re a lot more capable of handling yourself than I thought you’d be. Guess it was a good thing I’d made sure you had a little extra to drink that night. Or maybe not. Could’a been more exciting if I didn’t.”

“Shut up!” Y/n screamed, her fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t want to react, she knew Jet was trying to rile her up so she couldn’t think as clearly. But, he’d hit a nerve bringing up the night he’d almost raped her. It was a topic she was trying to avoid at this moment.

“Awe. Sorry, we’re a little touchy on that subject, huh?”

“I said SHUT UP!”

Y/n went to move toward Jet, ready for a fight, but he had other plans. His foot pressed harder into Zuko’s back, making him cry out a second time, his fingernails scraping into the ground from the pain. Y/n stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at Zuko’s slight whimper.

“Okay, okay, stop. Please. Just-“ she hesitated for a second. “What do you want?”

Jet smiled. “It’s funny since I didn’t really expect you to show up. But since you’re here now, I guess it means something. This prick isn’t worth your time, y/n. He’s weak and he doesn’t deserve you. Why don’t you come back to me? I can take care of you, we can start over. And, I’d never hurt you, not like he has.”

Y/n stopped short at his last comment. How did he know about their past? How did he know Zuko had hurt her before? Jet must have noticed her expression because he continued...

“I know a lot about Zuko here, especially about the things he’s done to people he supposedly ‘loves’. There’s a lot he hasn’t told you. His sister isn’t the only one capable of doing a little research.” At that, he glared down at Zuko, increasing the pressure to his back ever so slightly.

Zuko gasped. So, he knew. He knew about everything; about how he’d asked Azula to look into his history, about his shared past with y/n... everything.

“I’m sorry about what I did to you earlier. But, I’m willing to make it up to you if you come back to me,” Jet spoke calmly to y/n. It was almost too much. Y/n looked down at her feet, unsure of how to go on. Zuko was only watching her with pleading eyes, hoping to god she wouldn’t believe what Jet was telling her.

After a brief moment, y/n looked up determined. She’d made up her mind. She walked calmly toward the two, stopping only inches away and looked straight into Jet’s eyes. Then, she offered her hand to him.

“You’re right Jet. I’ll give you another chance.”

Zuko’s heart sunk. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Just like that she’d left him to suffer at her feet. He was heartbroken, yes, but he supposed he deserved it. It wasn’t like he expected this to last - nothing ever did. He had hurt her too much to ever deserve her love, and y/n knew that. She could never be with him after everything he had done to her. She deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn’t weak like him, someone who could protect her. Zuko was a failure, and he should have known y/n could never love someone like him. His own father didn’t.

Jet smiled broadly, taking his foot off of Zuko’s back and grasping y/n outstretched hand. He walked a couple steps toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist, one hand travelling towards her ass.

“I knew you’d make the right choice, baby. You’re mine.”

Y/n looked him in the eyes, a small smile gracing her lips. Just as Jet was about to lean down for a kiss, y/n took that moment to strike, ramming her knee into Jet’s groin. He doubled over, wheezing, giving y/n the chance to strike his head, making him drop to the ground, his nose spurting blood down to his chin. Zuko was shocked, but immensely relieved. He felt like he could breathe again as y/n rushed over to his side.

“Are you alright? Where does it hurt?” She began asking him once she’d knelt by his side. Zuko just lay there captivated by her.

“You didn’t go with him,” he said finally.

“What? No, of course not! Zuko, I would never choose him over you... did you think I would?” She asked sadly.

“Well... yeah. I mean, kinda? I don’t know, I-“

“Zuko,” she interrupted him, “Look at me. I will always choose you. You’re important to me.”

Zuko watched her as she helped him to get on his feet, a small smile creeping onto his face. He was important to her.

The moment was interrupted by a glint in the corner of his eye just behind y/n. Without thinking, Zuko rushed to pull her behind him, shielding her from the impact of the knife which had just imbedded itself into his shoulder. Zuko yelled in pain, gripping onto y/n’s shirt while blood flowed freely down his back. Y/n was screaming. Jet backed away slowly, after having recovered from y/n’s attack and retaliating with the pocketknife he kept hidden in his shoe. He hadn’t meant for it to hit Zuko, and frankly he was surprised when it did, not fully registering the weight of his actions. He immediately turned and ran in the opposite direction leaving his comrades, as well as y/n and Zuko, on their own.

“Zuko,” y/n cried, “hey, look at me. Zuko, please-“

“Y/n, I’m fine,” Zuko forced out. “Just give me a second.”

“You’re not fine! You-“

“There they are! Guys over here!” A voice shouted suddenly. It was Sokka.

Behind Sokka was the whole group: Aang, Katara, Suki, and Toph. They all rushed to the couple, at which point Zuko began leaning heavily on y/n for support. Y/n immediately lowered the both of them to the ground, looking to her friends in desperation and placing her palm firmly over the wound. Zuko hissed. She maneuvered him into a position where his uninjured shoulder was leaning against her while they both sat on the pavement.

“What happened?” Katara questioned once they were close enough to see the damage.

Y/n looked to Zuko’s injury with regret, “Jet happened.”

“What?!” Toph yelled from behind the group.

“Guys?” Zuko spoke roughly, “What the hell? I thought I told you all not to come!”

“Zuko, I swear to god, now is not the time for this,” y/n looked to him deeply unimpressed. He glared back at her.

“So,” Suki jumped in, “is someone gonna call an ambulance or...? You know, for Zuko’s shoulder?”

“Wait, what’s wrong with his shoulder?” Toph asked, confused.

“It’s got a fucking hole in it,” Sokka put it frankly.

“What the fuck, Zuko?!”

“It’s not that bad! Seriously, it’s just my shoulder, I’ll live,” he glared at them, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.

“You need stitches,” Katara glared back. “It won’t heal properly if you leave it.”

“Katara’s in nursing, you gotta trust her, Zuko,” Aang spoke for the first time since getting there.

Zuko looked to the ground, as if it would give him an answer to his problems. He never liked the hospital. It brought back too many memories from when he was younger. Then again, his friends were right. He needed proper care, and they weren’t even aware of the possible fractures to his rib cage.

“Fine,” Zuko relented. “But, you’re not calling an ambulance. We can just drive there.”

“Zuko-“

“Y/n, I’m serious. I just need something to bandage it and I’ll be fine until we get there.”

She said nothing, but nodded reluctantly. She looked to the rest of the group and they all seemed to be in agreement: they would drive. Y/n moved to stand, careful not to move Zuko’s shoulder the wrong way, and helped him to his feet as well. Once standing, Zuko seemed to sway a bit so y/n put her arm around his waist to steady him. She looked to him concerned, his eyes seemed unfocused and all his concentration went to making sure he didn’t fall over. Obviously, he was in a worse state than he was letting on, but he’d never tell them that. Instead, he leaned slightly onto y/n as they took a few steps forward. About a five steps in, however, his knees buckled and y/n had to jump in to catch him before he hit the ground.

“Zuko!” Y/n screeched. Sokka jumped in to help as y/n held Zuko in her arms. His eyes were shut tight, fists trembling. “Damnit, I knew it!”

“I’m fin-“

“Don’t.”

Y/n was at the end of her rope. She turned determinedly to the rest of the group, but before she could get a word out she realized she didn’t have to say much for them to get the message. Sokka and Suki were already running to grab Sokka’s car that was parked just down the road while Katara, Aang, and Toph helped in making a makeshift bandage for Zuko’s shoulder. Y/n turned back to him. His eyes were drifting and he felt limp in her hold. So much for being fine, she thought. In reality she was freaking out. She didn’t know what else to do, she wasn’t a doctor!

“Zuko...” she spoke softly but stern, cradling his cheek in her palm. He drifted his focus to her eyes, searching them, but it seemed like he was struggling. “You gotta keep your eyes open for me, ‘kay?”

“Y/n,” his words were almost like a whisper, “sorry...”

“Hey, no, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault.”

He stared into her eyes, contemplating on something. Then he spoke.

“You’re important to me too...”

“I’m- what do you mean?”

“Earlier you said I was important to you... you’re important to me too.”

He lightly grasped the hand cupping his face in his own, squeezing gently in hopes of conveying what he meant. Y/n got the message loud and clear.

“Zuko-“

“Y/n I need you to lift him up a bit for me while I wrap his shoulder,” Katara chimed in, unintentionally breaking their moment. Y/n did as she was told, lifting Zuko as much as she could while Katara fit the makeshift bandage around his shoulder and torso. Zuko groaned lightly in pain, his features twisted to try and hide how much it really hurt. Y/n did everything she could to help, even if it wasn’t much. Soon, Sokka pulled the car up next to them, Suki in the passenger seat.

“We won’t be able to fit everyone, so you guys are gonna have to decide who’s going first and I’ll pick the others up later,” Sokka stated.

“Y/n,” Aang turned to her, “you should be the one to go with him. I can stay behind.”

“I’ll stay too,” Toph said. “Katara should be in the car with you guys since she’s got the most experience medical-wise.”

Everyone nodded, Aang helping to lift Zuko into the back seat while y/n climbed in after, holding his body as close to hers as she possibly could. Katara got in on the other side of the car and they were off. Y/n never let go of Zuko the whole car ride, thinking of what he’d said to her just before. Of course he was important to her, she loved him and she would do anything for him.

Wait.

She loved him.

Oh god.

They pulled up to the emergency room, rushing to get Zuko help, and the whole way, from the car, to finding help, and finally to the whole gang sitting in the guest area waiting for some sort of update on Zuko’s condition, all she could think about was that... she loved him.

***

AHH Okok so finally finished and I’m sorry if the chapter kinda dropped off at the end🤭😬😬 but I hope you guys enjoyed, I know it’s been a whole long ass time so this was something I was looking forward too! Again, love you guys and I’ll see you at the next chapter💕✨💖🥰

Part 25 | Part 27

Tag List:

@theblueslytherin @finnydraws @mochminnie @jujugentle @someoneovertherainboww @akiris @royahllty @cjphoenix135 @fiantomartell @amazingapricot @nnon-it-up @charlenasaxen @strangeinternetwasteland @talas-starlight @xbarrjallenx @la3divine @pastel-piper @missmorosis @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @bakugouswh0r3 @teelagurl558 @duh-dobrik

[pawprintsmoon]

Henry has no clue; The Aftermath

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31306808/chapters/77401784

Once Alex leans into the kiss, the prince is royally screwed. An immense energy encompasses them, and he loses his breath along with all his remaining sensibilities. He pulls Alex’s hair, eliciting the sweetest, smallest sound. If he doesn’t stop right now, he won’t be able to stop at all.

“Fuck,” Henry swears, pulling back. Apparently, he still has an ounce of sense after all, or at least an ounce of self-preservation. “I’m just, shit. I’m sorry.”

Snow crunches beneath his stumbling feet as he practically runs away from the freshly snogged boy. The boy who must be having a total identity crisis. Even drunk, he could taste Alex’s confused wanting and a yearning that might even match his own. Impossible. The type of impossible that makes you question your interpretation of reality.

The humid heat and festive noises of the Gala overwhelm him as he re-enters the White House. He is sweating under his wool coat and his collar is too tight around his throat. The champagne in his system is tilting the floor, and it’s too much. Where the fuck is Pez?

Eventually, he finds his best friend between June and Nora, all dancing scandalously close to each other. It’s a testament to Pez’s loyalty that as soon as he looks at Henry, he exits the dancefloor, bowing to the ladies.

“What did you do?” Pez asks, leaning close to talk over the music.

“The most foolish thing possible.” He grabs Pez’s arm. “We have to go.”

After a beat, Pez nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

They walk through the party together, Pez’s presence keeping him from unravelling completely. It’s unlikely that Henry is effectively hiding his emotions, what with the drinking and kissing and panicking. Hopefully everyone around them is too intoxicated to notice.

“So, are we just getting some air or are we calling it a night?” Pez asks as they meet their PPOs at the front door. “Should I call a car to take us to the hotel?”

“No.” He imagines Alex showing up at their hotel the next morning, hungover and demanding answers. “No, we’re going home.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” Henry’s throat is dry and his eyes are unforgivably wet. “Please.”

Pez stares at him, presumably assessing the severity of the situation, before nodding again.

“Okay, I’ll call a car to take us to the airport,” Pez says, pulling out his phone. “And as soon as we board the plane you are telling me everything.”

Within ten minutes, Shaun arrives with their luggage, a shiny black car, and three burly PPOs. Within two hours they are flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Henry pacing up and down the aisle of their private jet while Pez sips champagne.

"What the hell, Hen?" Pez says at last. Henry had been monologuing his panic spirals since they’d boarded the plane and is finally taking a breath.

"It just kind of happened?" Henry replies. He had fucked up, real bad this time.

"Well, to be completely honest with you, that was too fucking awesome!".

"You mean I did the right thing?" Henry asks, disbelief coloring his face. He isn’t sure if he’s asking approval of his choice to kiss Alex or his choice to run away afterwards.

"I don't know, Hen,” Pez says in an apologetic tone. “All I know about Alexander Claremont-Diaz is that you’re obsessed with him. This was bound to happen eventually, right?"

Henry has no clue how to answer, so he sighs and starts his pacing again. He knows he isn't going to sleep tonight, maybe not ever if he has a say in it. Alex might murder him in his sleep, even if he is protected by PPOs all the bloody time. He makes a mental note to ask Shaan to keep an eye out for Alex and his transatlantic flights.

…

"So yeah that happened." Henry finishes telling last night's events to his therapist who sports an impassive expression.

"Henry, why are you so afraid of Alex's reaction? For all you know he might feel the same way," Shannon says. The sincerity and calm in her voice almost soothes his racing heart.

"Because I do know he feels the same way, but he wasn't ready to know that. His obliviousness was the only thing saving us from falling together; the only thing stopping me from losing control. But then I lost control anyways because he’s just so bloody dense! It’s torture. Hell, both Nora and June have caught on. He’s going to be the last person to figure out he is queer! And I don’t, well, I shouldn’t have pushed it. Rash and careless.” Henry is rambling, but isn’t that the point of therapy? “Sometimes I think I reread Jane Austin too much, because I can’t help pining. Fantasizing. I thought, sure, he’ll see our mutual attraction eventually, and I can wait, and generally, or I can resist making idiotic choices I like to think I’m patient, but-"

He stops speaking abruptly and looks away from her sharp gaze. Even after so many years of therapy, it's still hard for him to talk about his feelings.

"But what Henry?" Shannon gently prods him.

"But I was...I got jealous when I saw them kissing and I just couldn't wait any longer for him to be ready. I know it was not fair, but I’ve known for years now.” He sighs. “I was actually just waiting for Pez to have his fun so we could leave. But...but Alex- he came outside looking for me and he was infuriating and couldn’t take a hint. I just couldn't stop myself. God, I'm such an idiot."

"Henry, we have talked about this before. Not everything is your fault. You need to understand that.” She pauses as if to give him an opportunity to agree with her. When he doesn’t, she continues, “And you told me Alex kissed you back so how can you be sure that he doesn't know that he’s queer?"

"Because I know Alex. I’m his best friend, we’ve talked for hours on end and he’s an obliviously stupid prat and I'm in love with him!" Henry snaps, but Shannon already has an answer ready for that.

"Yes Henry, but it doesn't mean that it was a mistake. You may be in love, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about him and his relationship with his sexuality. You aren’t a mind reader. Maybe he’s just playing dumb, and it’s a farce just like yours. The difference is you appear heterosexual while he appears to be oblivious. You can't know for sure."

That gives Henry something to think about, and he goes quiet for several moments.

Could it be that Alex acting so oblivious was just for the public? But that couldn't be. He knows Alex, knows him, knows him. Not only from the months of constant texting and late-night phone calls but also from countless tabloids and magazines. It didn’t feel like Alex was hiding anything from him. But who knows? Maybe he did it so that he could be himself but still not be himself. Maybe, he could enjoy the queerness but pretend not to know in order to save his political career?

No, that is not the Alexander Gabriel Claremont Diaz, he has come to know. He would be out and proud if he knew. Henry suddenly registers the fact that he is overthinking again when Shannon calls his name.

"Yes, Shannon?" Henry asks politely. Apparently she’d been speaking, but he has no idea what she was saying.

“You can tell me what you’re thinking, you know. That’s literally my job.” She smiles wryly and he grants her a weak laugh. “I was just saying that you can’t possibly try to know what he’s thinking about the kiss, or where he is with his sexuality.”

“Exactly! That’s the other thing.” Henry shakes his head. “Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. I thought I knew what he wanted, and that I knew what I wanted, but now I don’t know anything. Maybe Alex is just a very flirty guy. Maybe it’s just an American thing. I haven’t been friends with an American before-”

“Henry”

“- and he was drunk and I kissed him and he probably thinks I took advantage. At the very least, I ran away like a scared twelve-year-old.”

“Let’s try to take a non-judgemental stance here,” suggests Shannon gently. “And for now, let’s just imagine a hypothetical. What if you were right all along, and he really does like you? That’s very much possible, so let’s explore what that would mean, yeah?

Henry shrugs noncommittally.

“You mentioned a couple of weeks ago that you think that if you two get too close you’ll be doomed,” she continues. “Do you still think that?”

“Well, yeah,” replies Henry, looking at his hands. “If he likes me -which I’m not sure he does anymore- then inevitably he’ll get sick of me. I like him so, so much, you know? He might be attracted to me, but he can’t possibly like me the way I like him. And even if by some horrible miracle he does like me back, then what? I’m a bloody prince and he’s an aspiring politician, and there’s no way it wouldn’t end in disaster. The whole world would be looking at us. I’m just… I’m…”

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I… I guess. Yeah. I feel like I’m about to fall off a cliff, holding onto the unstable rocks, and I have no idea where I’ll land.” Henry chuckled a little at his cliche metaphor. “He must think I’m a complete tosser.”

“Henry,” she gives him that Therapist Look. “You can’t read minds. Journal on that topic this week?”

Henry sighs and nods, letting that sink in. She has said it before, numerous times, and Henry never quite believes her.

They sit in silence before Shannon redirects the conversation.

"When are you meeting Alex again?"

That's an easy question, Henry has known the answer ever since he left D.C. He answers immediately, "Oh never."

"Henry," Shannon reprimands.

"No, you don't get it. I'm going to be murdered if I so much as go within 10 feet near Alex."

"No.” She’s holding back a laugh as she tries to look stern. “The answer is that you're going to the state dinner and you're going to talk to Alex like a mature adult and listen to what he says instead of guessing what he’s thinking. Meanwhile, I want you to think about what we discussed today and tell me next week what you might want to say to him."

"Hour's up then?" Henry asks, because he suddenly can't wait to get out of Shannon’s office. He needs time to think about everything. Or maybe he needs time to avoid thinking about anything.

"We have five more minutes, but if you don't have anything to add today, we can end early." Shannon smiles warmly at him and he knows that if he wishes to continue she wouldn’t mind, but right now he can't. Enough talking of emotions for one eternity, thank you.

So he leaves and as he hurries to the car he texts Shaan: SOS I need about a million boxes of Jaffa Cakes from the nearest corner shop.

Then, sliding into the back seat: Please.

…

The weeks pass by quickly with Henry trying his best to ignore Alex's texts and trying to convince everyone that he oughtn’t to go to the state dinner in D.C. No one listens to him, not Shannon or even Pez. Not even his own sister, rather Bea tries to make him see reason as to why he should go.

It's all 'you never know,’ 'just trust me, Hen' and other bits of vague encouragement. Predictably, Bea decides to drop Henry off at the airport herself so he can't escape at the last minute. When he accuses her of this, however, she’s all 'Can’t a girl escort her dear younger brother to the airport, or what?’

As they leave Kensington palace she explicitly instructs his PPOs that Henry should at all costs stay in America for the allotted time and should not be allowed back even a minute too soon. Shaan, for some reason, seems extremely happy to hear those instructions and can't stop smiling. Henry scowls at him whenever he sees him, thinking that he is Henry's personal equerry. It’s a lot.

"Do I really have to, Bea?" he asks her as they near the airport.

"Henry, you know this is important and by that, I do not mean the state dinner. That can go fuck itself for all I care, but you need to talk to Alex. Hiding from him like this is doing no one any good. Talk to him, see what he says and do not overthink this, Hen please." Bea squeezes his hand lightly as the car stops.

They walk silently side by side to the plane where Bea hugs him and sees him off.

As the plane starts to take off, the panic that had been sedated by her hug starts to grow again, fiercer than ever. Henry keeps repeating the same phrase throughout the flight.

Don't overthink this. It's going to be okay.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Mi Corazón es Tuyo

TITLE: ​Mi Corazón es Tuyo PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: The BAU are in Laredo, Texas on a case and an old friend of Kaitlyn’s stops by.

[A/N - I know Narcos takes place in the late 70′s/early 80′s, but for the purposes of this one-shot, it happened in the early 2000′s. So this is an AU for Narcos and regular for Criminal Minds. I kinda wanted to wait until I had finished Narcos to post this, so I googled to see how the series ended so I wouldn’t get anything wrong.]

Kaitlyn stared at the crime scene photos pinned to the board, trying to find some connection.

They were in Laredo, Texas chasing a serial arsonist, who also liked to take one victim hostage.

“Careful there, cerebrito (brainiac). I can practically hear the gears turning in your head.”

Kaitlyn spun around. Only one person had ever called her that in her life.

“Javi!” she screamed. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. Her team watched the interaction between her and this strange man, including Spencer. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing. Heard your name around town.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s your family’s annual get together, isn’t it?”

“Um, I’m actually here now. Permanently.”

“Oh. Well, how’s your father?”

“He’s good. He’s good.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before Javier looked over at her team.

“Are you going to introduce me?” he asked.

Kaitlyn blushed. “Oh! Right!” She led him over to her team. “Guys, this is my good friend Javier Peña. Javi, meet the BAU.”

“THE Javier Peña?” Emily asked, “As in the one who helped take down Escobar and the Cali cartel?”

“One in the same,” Javier said. He didn’t really like to talk about his time in Colombia.

In fact, Kaitlyn avoided the subject altogether.

“How do you know Katy?” Morgan asked, ever the big brother.

“We met when I was down in Colombia,” Kaitlyn explained, “I was on vacation and Javi here saved me from being shot. We’ve stayed in touch ever since.”

“You were almost shot?” Spencer asked.

“Uh, yeah. Guess some of the cartel guys heard an FBI agent was down there and decided to try and kill me. You know, the usual stuff.” Kaitlyn said it so nonchalantly that it worried Hotch. She did the same thing when it came to close encounters on the job.

Maybe this was where it had originated from.

“Hey, I’ve gotta be heading back, but I’ll see you later okay? We’ll catch up,” Javier said, “Don’t work too hard.” He kissed her temple and she playfully shoved him away from her.

“Estúpido (Asshole),” Kaitlyn muttered.

Javier winked at her. “Pero amas cariño (But you love it, sweetheart).”

When Kaitlyn turned back around, her entire team was staring at her. “What? Let’s get back to work.” She walked back up to the board.

“You didn’t think it was a good idea to tell us you have a friend who worked for the DEA?” Hotch asked her, quietly.

“I’m sorry, Hotch. I honestly never thought you guys would meet.”

“We’ll discuss this later.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kaitlyn met Javier a few days later before they left for Quantico.

“I hope you know I’m in deep shit with my supervisor,” she told him, “Although did I complain when all that shit went down with Emily? No.”

Javier laughed. “I’m sorry. If I had known that would get you in trouble, I wouldn’t have just shown up. But I couldn’t resist when I heard you were in town. Big guy didn’t seem happy to see me, though.”

“Big guy? Oh, you mean Morgan? He’s just protective. He’s actually exactly like you. Sleeps with anyone he wants to, no strings attached.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s going on with the guy with the long hair?”

“Spencer? What about him?”

“Oh come on. I noticed the way he looked at you and the way you were trying so hard not to meet his eyes.”

Kaitlyn hit Javier on the shoulder. “I’m supposed to be the profiler, not you!”

“So what’s the story?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Got a job in the BAU, met Spencer, end of story. But enough about me, what about you? Any women in the picture?”

“Miel (honey), there’s always women in the picture.”

Kaitlyn laughed. “You don’t ever change, do you Peña? What about Steve and Connie? They still together?”

“Of course. Went back to Miami after everything blew over.”

“You two still keep in touch, right?”

“Of course. He wasn’t just my partner, he’s my brother.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t transfer to Mexico.”

Javier shook his head. “I’m done with Narcos and Sicarios. Bebita (baby girl), I don’t work for the DEA anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I found out some stuff that caused a huge scandal, so they asked me to resign.”

“Oh my god, Javi. I’m so sorry.”

Javier shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m back working on my father’s ranch.”

“My Mexican cowboy. Sexy.” Javier smiled.

Kaitlyn’s phone started ringing. “Hello?”

“Hotch said we should be good to go in about ten minutes. We’re just waiting on you,” Spencer told her.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d exchanged “I love you’s” but it never failed to take Kaitlyn’s breath away. “Yo también te quiero (I love you too).” She heard Spencer laugh.

“I don’t know what that means, but I gonna assume you reciprocated.”

“I did, idiot. See you in a bit.” She hung up and saw Javier smiling at her. “Shut-up.”

“C’mon. Don’t want you to miss your flight.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kaitlyn nearly did miss her flight thanks to security not wanting to let Javier through.

The security guard had to call Hotch and get clearance from him first.

“Idiotas (Idiots). I’m fucking FBI! I hope they know I could have them fired in a heartbeat!” Kaitlyn snapped, pulling her luggage out of Javier’s Jeep.

“Fácil allí pequeña mama (Easy there little mama). Don’t break a nail.”

“Shut-up Javi.”

He hugged her. “Hey, take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

“And when you and that boy get married, I want an invite, do you hear?”

Kaitlyn’s cheeks burned. “Yes, hermano mayor (big brother).” She kissed him on the cheek and hurried onto the jet. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, Kaitlyn. We wouldn’t have left you behind,” Hotch told her, “Wheels up, everybody.”

Hotch went to the back of the jet to call Jack, Rossi and Morgan were sleeping, JJ and Emily were talking quietly, and Spencer sat next to Kaitlyn.

“You and Javier never did anything, did you?” Spencer asked her.

“Reid, if you have to ask that question then you don’t know me very well.”

“It’s just…you two seemed pretty close.”

“And we are. Spencer, Javi is just the Mexican version of Morgan.”

Spencer thought about that and then started laughing.

“And besides, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Gonna have to translate.”

“My heart is yours. Always has been and always will be, Spencer.”

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (cut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: this version of the epilogue is the 'clean cut' - there's a good chunk of it missing but it's not particularly important to the story. if you want to read the EXPLICIT version, there should be another one uploaded at the same time. (sorry, this is scheduled so i don't have the link yet lol)

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

You stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walk into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Placing the body into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale. Off to the woods, where you buried your first love. In a town where not everyone who dies leaves.

The drive to and from the place was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and go straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[100layersofdaddyissues]

Angel - Chapter 2

Here is chapter 2 of angel, i hope it satiates you fiends.

Warnings: smut, conspiracy around death, swearing

this was co-written and edited by my main bitch @bonjour-je-mappelle-fuckyou

  It had been days and you’d neither seen nor heard from Maxwell, you were beginning to worry that he had forgotten you in this big apartment, worrying that you had quit your job and left your home just for him to forget that you’d agreed to an arrangement with him, but hey, at least he forgot you in this apartment, and not your old one. He wasn’t asking for rent, Darius had brought you groceries the morning you had gone to your apartment to get the rest of your belongings, you reckon you were good for at least a few weeks before you ran out of food.

             As you pondered how long it would be until someone kicked you out or you starved you heard a short knock on the door, well it looks like you might last a few more weeks than you’d anticipated.

            You opened the door to see Darius standing there, tall and proud, “good morning Miss, I’ve been instructed to take you shopping for some new clothes, it seems Maxwell has anticipated your start at his Lord Industries this coming Monday and I’ve been told to show you the dress code of such a company, though with us both knowing Maxwell like we do I’m sure you could assume.” Ahh so he hadn’t forgotten you, that’s a good sign. 

 “Darius please, if you keep calling me miss, I'll start calling you sir and I don’t think either of us would prefer that. Y/N is a fine name and I think I would like to hear it more often. And yes, I’m sure I could assume the dress code Max ‘requires’ though I’m sure most of my clothes would suit that.”

            Darius let a short puff of air out of his nose, what you had come to know as him laughing apparently. “while that is true miss- ahh sorry Y/N, the man is loaded and quite frankly a scoundrel, let’s go load up for the sake of it, I’m sure you would appreciate a new pair of boots, the ones I met you didn’t see you have any arch support.” He had a slight smirk on his face as he spoke to you. 

 “Darius that’s scandalous, also leave my Docs out of this, they might as well be vintage, my mother bought them in the UK in the 60s” you said looking down at your cherry red docs, which had obviously seen way more than they should have. 

 “Ahh so they’re definitely provided no support, your poor feet, we must amend this. Come on, get dressed in the next ten minutes or I’m going to drag you out of this door by those frayed laces.” 

 While it sounded harsh, the tone of his voice and the expression accompanied let you know that he was joking with you, he could be quite cheeky as you’d noticed the first night you met him, although he acted quite different in front of Max, in fact he didn’t act like anything in front of Max, he was silent, if you couldn’t see him you’d assume the car drove itself. The demeanor change between them concerned you slightly. 

 “Alright no need to get violent, I’ll be just a sec.”

             When Darius told you that you’d be going shopping you’d assumed you’d be going to a mall, so it confused you completely when you drove past the mall you’d shopped at so many times, only for him to drive into the rich side of town, the streets were lined with high end fashion stores and boutique cafes, and oh look at that, more illegible French on restaurant windows.

             Walking around this part of town in a miniskirt and a boxy blouse felt wrong, you really didn’t fit in here. Darius led the way, practically pulling you into stores, seemingly knowing every sales assistant in each shop, it made you slightly insecure, how many times had Darius brought someone like you to go shopping, you weren’t used to being one of many. Most of the men you previously had arrangements with had only been involved with you, and the occasional wife, (yes they know don’t look at yourself with such disdain), it didn’t sit well with you that you might be sharing Max’s affections.

             You tried on dress after skirt after blouse after horrible blazers with those horrible shoulder pads. God you missed the trends of the 70s. You really didn’t know what you were looking for, thankfully Darius had been leading the expedition, telling the assistants which clothes you would be requiring. Each time they took the item to the checkout you felt a sense of guilt, it was really starting to pile up, finally after a particularly hideous ensemble consisting of cheetah print, neon green and you guessed, shoulder pads, Darius called time, deciding that you had both racked up quite the amount on Max’s card, (though you really don’t think you could take any of the credit, or blame.)

             “Y/N I don’t mean to intrude but you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet through the last few stores, is there something wrong?” honestly you didn’t know if there is although you couldn’t deny your silence was out of place. “yeah of course I’m fine, I just get overwhelmed when shopping, that’s all, it's no big deal, it was nice that you knew everyone.” You paused for only a moment contemplating whether you should ask your next question but before you could even stop yourself our mouth was spewing out the words, “how did you know everyone by the way?”

             “Before I was Mr. Lord’s driver, I was a driver to Mrs. Lord. No, no it's not what you think. Maxwell and marriage aren’t two words that go in the same sentence. Mrs. Lord was his mother. She was quite the shopper and not the talker. So, while she was trying on clothes, I made friends with the clerks. It made both our times much more pleasant around her Highness.” somehow and for some reason it eased you to know that it was Maxwell’s mother that made the connection and not a line of women preceding you. 

             “What is Mrs. Lord like?'' Maybe the person who raised Max is an indication as to who he is now. 

 “Was, actually, she died when Maxwell was 17, along with her father, it was terrible really, their private jet went down over the triangle, it's such a shame, Max really needed his parents around that time, after that the house help and I remained the only thing close to family he had, he shut off and down, became ruthless and cold, he used to be such a bright and kind young man, I saw the life leave his eyes the day he found out that it had left his parents. I'm sorry Miss I’ve probably already said too much, I’m not really sure I should be speaking with you about this, it's not that I don't trust you but Maxwell is very private, if I hadn’t have been there to see it I would never know, he has never spoken about his parents, to anyone.” 

             Somehow what Darius said about Max and his parents really stuck with you, even after you’d gotten back to the apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about how horrible it must have been to grow up without parents, especially through such important years like his 20s, they’d miss every milestone he has in his adult life and he’ll miss having his parents there for them. You didn't have much time to think on it, you'd only been home about 30 minutes before the phone starting ringing on the nightstand next to you, you picked up the receiver to hear a breathy voice on the other side, “angel, I’m gonna need you to open the door,” and then the call was dropped.

             Maxwell. You rushed to the door, when you swung it open you noticed a slightly disheveled Maxwell staring at you with darkness clouding his eyes, “you know you could have just kno-” but you were cut off when he pushed the door closed and slammed you against it, his lips smacking straight into yours in a fit of heat and passion, you weren’t sure where this was going but you weren’t going to complain, “just shut up, I’m pissed and I wanna fuck you. Now. go to the bedroom, make sure you’re naked, face down. Do you understand?” you just nodded, looking up at him with what he assumed to be excitement, you basically sprinted to the bedroom, quickly undressed and headed his note to be face down. As you anxiously anticipated what he was going to do to you, all thoughts of his parents had been replaced with possibility. 

             “God you're such a good girl for me aren't you” he was standing at the door staring at you, eyes raking over your naked body. You heard his footsteps get closer to the bed and then suddenly you were hit with a sharp smack to your ass, “god this ass is fucking incredible, I can’t wait to see how it looks in all those new clothes you bought, wanna give me a private show of them?” “yes, sir I’d love to” your voice was high and almost pathetic sounding, Max had done nothing more than briefly spank your ass and suddenly you're already so out of breath. “Not now angel, you’re going to let me fuck you good, and then you’re going to show me how well you can walk afterwards.” 

             You heard him undo his belt and then clothing hit the floor, the bed dipped either side of your thighs and suddenly both his hands were on our hips and he was pulling up to him in one swift lift, “god this pussy, is fucking beautiful, and you’re already so wet, is this what I do to you? You like being manhandled like this doll?” you just whimpered at him praying he would touch you. “Come on angel with your words, tell me how this is affecting you.” you could hear the devil's patented smirk on his face as he spoke, knowing how riled up he was getting you. “Yes sir, I love it, I love when you throw me around, you're making me so needy sir please I love it please do more” you could barely pause to take a  breath you felt so needy and so pathetic that he was affecting you in this way but after the last night you spent together you thought you were right to be. 

             “There's no time to play around tonight angel, I need you now.” His voice was harsh and low, it made you cower away from him, but his grip on our hips was strong and tight and he wasn't letting you go anywhere, he spanked you, one, two, three more times, “are you ready angel” you could tell he was impatient and so were you. “Yes, dear god yes please, please just fuck me.” and with your words, he slammed into you, his hips hitting your ass with the force of a freight train. For someone who sounded so desperate he was going admirably slow, every thrust into your pussy was forceful almost calculated, as he rammed into you. You felt frustrated at his pace, like he was holding back and that is not what you needed right now, you needed him to fuck you, rough, hard, fast. Now. “Please, Max don’t make me beg for it please just fuck me, use me, I need you to go faster, be rough with me please.” 

             “My pretty girl so whiny,” he quickened his pace, pistoning into you sending your brain into a frenzy, your legs already turning to jelly, “is this how you want it princess? Me fucking you like a little whore? Hmm?” his words were almost enough to drive you over the edge already, you had barely even started, and you felt like you were already close. “Please Max it’s so good fuck so good sir I love it when you use me.” 

             Max pulled out of you, and before you even had time to protest he had flipped you over, he shoved three fingers deep inside you, looking down on like he was ready to eat you whole. “You filthy little girl, you're ready to cum, aren't you? I've barely even gotten started and you're ready to finish? No that's not how this is going to work. Let's see how many times you can cum for me, let's see how many orgasms I can pull out of this beautiful cunt.” his words were as vulgar as the way he was fucking you with his fingers, if you both hadn’t been breathing so hard you’d be able to hear how wet you were, every thrust sending like heaven to his ears. He removed his fingers and lined himself up once again, no time for teasing he thrust back into you, resetting the fast pace he had previously set. “Tell me how rough you want it doll, tell me what you want from me.”

             Your mind swirled with the possibilities, all you could choke out was, “choke me, and smack me, I’m your whore please please please just use me.” immediately one hand flew to your throat, grasping it tightly but not enough to cut off your air supply. He kept ramming into you and you could feel yourself starting to get close as you moaned so loudly “Sir please, please, I’m so close, please let me cum” “do it doll, come all over my dick I want to feel your pussy cry for me.” and with his words you did just that, the hand around your throat tightened as you fell into sick bliss, your brain was experiencing an orgasm 100 times better than it ever had and you couldn't tell whether it was the lack of oxygen or Max’s dick that was making you feel higher than any drug could take you. As you came down, Max was still fucking you, slower than before but not as excruciating as originally.

             “I think if we had any neighbours up here you would have just earned us a noise complaint.” he smirked down at you. Yu were still dazed, pathetically smiling up at him when a harsh smack hit your face waking you up. “Already so fucked out baby how cute,” he knew just how to get you going, his lips were back on yours as he kept fucking into, drilling his cock deeper and deeper. You were whining and moaning not caring at this point if half of the city heard you, you were getting the fuck of a life time and as you screamed out Maxwell’s name you’d hoped everyone would hear how well the most important man in the city was fucking you. 

             “You ready for one more baby doll coz I’m getting close and I don’t wanna leave you behind.” he didn’t give you time to respond when his thumb flew to your clit rubbing it in circles almost as fervently as he was fucking you, and just as Max had planned you started to feel like you were on the edge again. 

             “Max please I’m close again.” you warned him, he sped up, quickening his pace even more somehow, “not without me doll you hold it until I say you can come you understand me?” you whined out a breathy yes, hoping you could head his orders, it felt like an eternity before he finally whispered, “Cum” in your ear and you did just that. Both you and Max were a moaning screaming jumble of limbs as you milked his cock dry and he pounded into you savouring the sweet release. He fell on top of you, both sweating profusely as you laughed out. “I don't know if you'll be getting that fashion show, I don't know if I can't even stand on these legs let alone walk. 

             He laughed as well, it was a nice laugh, you quite liked it. 

Max got up, helping you to the bathroom and sitting you in the shower, he told you to sit and wait for the water to warm but you told him it was no problem, your hot water got cut off a few times at your old apartment so cold showers were almost the norm for you. As you sat in the shower trying to regain what little focus you had, you had expected the door to close and for Maxwell to leave, but when you finally emerged from the shower you saw him sitting on your bed, well his bed.

             “Have a drink or you'll get dehydrated.” he said, pointing at the glass of water on the nightstand. You never expected Max to be so caring after sex, you’d fallen asleep after the last time, so you guessed he just didn’t care about aftercare. 

             “I think if you keep this up, I may be paralysed, my legs don’t work properly, if you want me to make it to work.” 

             “Yeah, I think I would rather see you at work on Monday, might fuck you on my desk to make up for lost time this weekend. How does that sound, angel?” God did that sound good, you wanted him to absolutely rail you if you were being honest, you had no concern as to whether anyone would hear you or not. 

             You woke up in the early hours of that Saturday morning, alone once again in bed, your legs felt like jelly and they were almost torture to walk on. You trudged your way into the kitchen, hoping to find something you could eat, when you saw Maxwell sitting on the counter, not on a chair at the counter, on the counter with his legs dangling like a little kid. “Good morning Maxwell.” your voice made him jump a little, clearly not expecting to see you there, he didn't move from his position on the counter though. You walked towards the emptying fridge and picked out an apple, placing yourself between his legs has you took a bite, “good morning to you too angel, we have got to get that fridge stocked up.” he must have seen how little you had in there, you'd spent so much on clothes and yet you spent less than 50 on groceries, where were your priorities?

             “Oh no it's okay, I’ll just buy some next week after I get paid. It's no big deal. I'm used to not having a lot to eat. I'll be fine.” you were telling the truth; you never had a lot of money to buy food after utilities and rent. “Well, be that as it may angel, I’m not letting you starve until then, you can just take one of my cards, we have a specific arrangement here and I know I got you a job at my company but I’d like to know you're living up to your own tastes and requirements, I have plenty of money to burn and this is an offer I will not let you refuse, do you understand me? 

“Yes sir, I understand.” 

                         “Don't you dare get me all riled up right now I don't think you could handle another round, or three.” he was right. You couldn't. But god did you want to. “Do you have any plans today or tomorrow?” he asked you, you weren't sure why, but now that you thought about it you did have plans. 

“Yes, actually I do. I've got lunch with my friend jade today and then we're going to see that new movie, Footloose. I think it's called, anyway, Kevin Bacon is in it and he's totally rocking so I don't care what it's about.” you couldn't be sure but you thought you saw Max tense up a little at your comment on Kevin bacon. Eh, who knows what goes on in that man's head. Who cares? 

           Meeting Jade that afternoon seemed to be a lot harder than it should have been, Max did not let you leave the bed until you were at least three orgasms deep and your voice was hoarse. “Maybe next time we can do it on that kitchen counter.” he says to you after he finally catches his breath. “Max! People eat there!” you were shocked at his remarks but honestly you thought it kind of hot. “Yeah and I want to eat there too.” his smirk was so heavy on his voice your pussy actually quivered at the thought of Max eating you out on the kitchen counter. 

           “Well I need to get dressed and meet my friend, so you better let me get up, or do I need another orgasm to get permission for that?” Max just laughed and waved you off, silently telling you to go get ready. 

Jade had been one of your closest friends since you moved to the big city you now called home. She was sassy and brilliant, an amazingly talented person, you were honestly jealous of her at times, she was an incredible writer and she was almost done film school, she was killing it and you felt like you were lagging behind in life, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be happy for her, (and gather potential black mail so she would put you in one of her movies when she becomes a big amazing director.) 

           “Hi, why haven't you called me in a week and a half?’ “well hello to you too Jade, and it's none of your business but it happens to do with a shared interest of ours.” you hadn't realized that you haven't spoken to her in that long, you can't believe it had only and yet already been a week and a half since you met Max.

“You’re fucking Maxwell Lord, aren’t you?” she deadpanned. You couldn't tell if she was psychic or just pulling a fake out, but alas you put her mind to rest with a (slightly) shouted. “HOW DID YOU KNOW?” okay, fake out, you put your foot in it now. “Yes, but oh my god you can't say anything to anyone okay?” your voice was much quieter now with a lot more stress laced in it. “Oh my god I have to tell everyone. OW! Okay I won’t tell anyone but hold fuck how?” and so you told her. You told her about the bar with the sticky floor, the sex you had in his apartment that night, his car, Darius, the fact that he didn’t want him living at your house so he gave you one of his to live in, the sex you had this morning and the job he gave you. 

“So, you're telling me you gave this guy such a good blow job he made you head of accounting? Your power of sex never ceases to amaze me. Hey when you’re rich can you buy me a house please I’m dying in that apartment, if my brother doesn’t find his own place soon I may actually fucking kill him, and you’re going to have to help me hide the body and I know you don’t like hiding bodies but this is my murder to-” “oh my god shut up, first of all, you say that like he’s gonna give me enough money to buy myself a house let alone you.” you cut her off, it was true, you didn't really anticipate him giving you that much and if Halo’s paycheck was anything to go by you won't have enough to buy yourself a house on that salary, you'll barely be able to afford rent when Maxwell, inevitably, tells you to move out. 

“Oh please I give it a month, two tops, before he's in love with you and asking you to move into his big fancy apartment on the other side of town.” you did like the sound of the big fancy apartment, but neither you nor Max seemed like the type to want a relationship out of your arrangement. “no, this is just sex and money.” you weren't sure if you were telling her or yourself, but you said it with enough conviction that she seemed to believe it. 

“Okay but if you do end up dating the bachelor boy be careful, from what I hear he's bad news and not just business wise. Rumour is that he killed his fiancée a couple years back, they got into a car crash in England and no one has seen her since. He said she lived and left him, but who goes to England and just leaves?” 

You weren't sure how, but you'd never heard that rumour before, sure you'd only moved here 3 years ago but you'd think something like that would be hot news around town for ages. “I’m sure that’s just a rumour Jade he really doesn't seem like the type to be involved in something like murdering his fiancée.” 

“I'm just looking out for you, I could be wrong, but if he tries to take you to England, I'm kidnapping you first. Deal?”

“Deal.”

to be continued...

tags: @mandoalorian-mainblog​ @mrschiltoncat​