#>his idea of sex is two minutes of jackhammering

[zmpl]

…….

[collectivecloseness]

cockwarming with kurt?

This makes him absolutely insane.

If it’s you asking to try it out, he tries so hard to be good for you. The last thing he wants is to disappoint you. He definitely struggles a bit. His hands are clenching on and off around the couch arm, or his mattress, or your body, he can’t help but squeeze and fidget. His hips move just the tiniest of their own accord, before he’s training himself to keep them down, to keep them steady. Whether they’re slightly flitting upwards, or rocking side to side, even circularly. His whines and groans and pants are loud as you’re first lowering yourself onto him, but as soon as he’s fully sat inside you, Kurt is desperately quiet. His mind is exploding with ‘don’t move don’t move don’t move’, yet his brain is also shut off completely. You actually have to check up on him, make sure he’s using his words. But Kurt’s worried the second he speaks, he’s going to lose control and go all out, he knows himself.

If you’re taking charge, he tries so much harder to be good, and patient. Even though that includes him begging you every ten seconds. Kurt will listen more if it’s a you being dom and him being sub situation. He hates not being good for you, not being your good boy. It really upsets him and you’ll always have to wipe those hot tears from his flushed cheeks as you promise it’s no big deal, giving him a sweet smile, and lots of kisses to his lips and face. Half the time you’ll end up softly giving in quicker than you planned (not that you mind), especially because Kurt now knows how to get what he wants by manipulating you with being cute, acting that he just can’t hold out, can you please help him out right now? Sometimes he’ll pretend, just to get what he wants, brings those crocodile tears on. But he genuinely does get so needy for you, that it brings him to tears during sex sometimes, good and slightly overstimulated ones.

But he will listen more, because he likes being sub, he likes being good for you. He’ll try harder to make plans work, and oh boy does he know to trust you each and every time. For many obvious reasons, but also the times when he sticks to the plans, he’s stuck in a state of moaning in awe, for minutes after you two have finished up. Successful cockwarming with sub Kurt ends with him in a pile of wonderstruck gasps, giggles, and cuddles. He’s even smiling through any overstimulation, his face scrunching up cutely with a giggled “Ow” at his sensitive cock, when he turns over to cuddle you more, but it just leads to you being the one to scooch closer, looking after Kurt so much which he adores. As he stammers over how ‘amazing’ that whole experience was.

But if it’s an idea that he wanted to try, then he can’t be patient. Why wait, when you’re already right there? His hips end up sloppily moving upwards, giving one slow push up, and then you both know the plan’s fucked. Kurt’s moaning so loudly, as he fucks up into you from below. Legs shaking, but muscles toned through his legs, as he’s so determined to fuck you now. He actually becomes depraved, no matter how little he’s had to wait, he’s like a man starved. Kurt’s sloppily thrusting up into you, the sounds of skin hitting skin, and the squelching from how wet you are, from what little cockwarming you managed, driving Kurt crazy as he rests his head on your shoulder and continues his lazy thrusts. Until they turn into him jackhammering you like a rabbit. His hands keeping you pressed close, sealed to his lap, except he’s begging you to fuck.

If you can get his hands off your shoulders or thighs for a second, you can start to fuck him from above, bouncing on his dick. And then Kurt’s even more in lazy bliss. Just moaning your name as he tries to bounce with you on his lap, even though feeling you fall on top of him over and over, he breeze of the base of his dick before it’s covered again by a ring of your and his white pre, his straight strained cock being fucked up and down by your walls, he’s holding onto you so close, as he goes from screwing his eyes shut to keep on going, and watching you bounce on his dick, is like a scene from his dreams. For one fleeting second, the thought of him being like your personal dildo passes through his mind, and it’s hard not to bust there and then.

Other times though, if Kurt is feeling particularly dom, it’s different. He won’t let you get up, safeword excluding ofc. He’ll probably start off with asking you to come cuddle with him, sit on his lap while he watches a movie, or edits a video. When he first wraps his arms around your tummy, and sits you down on his shorts, you can feeling his raging hard on the second you’re down. But Kurt keeps you there. He kisses your shoulder and strokes your hair, before returning his eyes to his computer or the tv.

The next step is the dry humping. He’s rocking his red hot member between his pants, into your clothed flesh, keeping you sat down on him with his warm arms, as he humps you with no care of subtlety. Just stays wordless, and starts rutting into you hard. If Kurt was in a more subby mood, a few minutes of dryhumping in, and it’ll look like an entire bottle of conditioner exploded inside his underwear. But Kurt in a dominating mood, will always stick to his plans. He manages to wriggle and lift you enough that he doesn’t have to take you off his lap to drop his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

And the second he does that, Kurt will bring his hand quickly down your underwear. His long fingers shaping around your cunt, chuckling quietly into your shoulder when you immediately rock into his warm palm at that. His middle finger stretches across your slit, dragging up and down the middle of your folds, just slightly breaching into your wetness, as he slides it up, so he can feel how turned on you are. He brings that fingertip laced with slick up to your clit, rubbing it up and down a few times, as he bites down onto your shoulder. Kurt knows you’re wet though, and he tells you that fact very clearly, as he bites and tugs on your earlobe, teasing you with his words.

He’s very quickly moving on to only caring about his dick, ripping your clothes down and off, as he slides his cock under your legs, forcing you to rub your wetness, that’s stained your thighs you were squeezing together so desperately, against the length of his cock, as he pulls your body up and down with his scorching hot hands. Until quickly, he’s sticking his dick inside. Only feeling Kurt’s hot breath on your bare back, the press of his nose and his teeth into your spine as he fills you up where you can’t see, you can only feel him hastily shoving his dick inside you, considering your wet enough for his girth easily, is incredibly hot. The way he smushes his face into you as you feel yourself get inexplicably quickly filled.

If Kurt’s nice, maybe he’ll turn you around to face him first. Or maybe he does that to make it so you have no distractions from the room, you can only see Kurt, only have you senses be surrounded by Kurt, as he keeps you there, for however long he wants.

If Kurt’s very distracted, and in a very dom mood, he can keep you there for quite a while. As if completely devoted to finishing his task. Hushing and squeezing and biting you if you move. Maybe not giving you any words, maybe telling you you’re distracting him. He teases you until you can’t take it anymore, until you’re begging for Kurt. Because he will keep you sat on his dick, warming him, for however long he wants. In that moment you’re his girlfriend, his personal cockwarmer, his toy, if he wants.

He keeps his arms tight around your waist, keeping you trapped close to him, as he begins to fuck up into you, once you’ve begged and promised him enough. If he can feel his dick through your tummy, that’s an extra for him. He might tease you by fucking you for a minute, maybe two, but the second he feels your pussy constrict a little tighter than usual, he’s stopping again. Kurt freezes, and continues going back to doing whatever it is that isn’t you. Even as you cry and beg for him to keep going. He’ll keep you sat there for another fifteen minutes. And if you squirm too much, he says he’ll hand out the consequences for it, maybe extra time waiting, although he won’t tell you how long that is. He might phrase it as, he’ll go back once he feels like fucking you. Apart from that he ignores you as he finishes his other thing.

But then eventually, Kurt will want to see you bounce on his dick. He watches you work so hard for what you’ve been desperate for, and loves hearing you thank him over and over, for letting you be able to fuck his cock. He loves hearing you thank him for his mercy, thank you for him. He watches your eyes glaze over and roll back as you start to pathetically moan, drooling all over your own tits, and his cock. And when your poor, tired, perfect pussy gets too overstimulated, when your legs give out on you, Kurt becomes your merciful saviour. Fucking you through your haze until you’re screaming out his name, and coming undone all over his cock.

Usually, if you’ve been cockwarming for that long, he’ll let you off once he’s shot his cum straight up into your womb. He’ll raise you with his hands wrapped around your ribs, and laugh as he watches all his cum come pouring out of you, plopping straight onto his lap. But he knows you’ll be too sensitive after an hour of cockwarming. So he lets you rest. Lies you down and once you’re okay enough from nearly being fucked so good you lose vision, he’ll sit and play with your sweet little clit until you’re pulling him off of you by his hair. Giving it all the singular attention it could ever dream of. He’s such a good boyfriend after all :)

[maaarine]

Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent, and Navigating the New Masculinity (Peggy Orenstein, 2020)

"By his sophomore year of high school, Mason was spending about an hour a day immersed in porn.

He watched in his bedroom. He watched in the den. He watched in the bathroom stalls at school. He watched at parties.

It was, he said, as integral to his life as brushing his teeth, eating, drinking, sleeping.

“You can spend so much time in this porn fantasy world that you don’t even look up and live your real life,” he said.

Once, he popped in his earbuds and scrolled through his downloads in the back of the family car after a dentist appointment (no drilling jokes, please), as his brother and mom chatted in the front seat.

“That’s how normalized it became,” he said. “If it was going to be thirty minutes in the car, I might as well watch porn.”

Although at this point Mason had never kissed a girl or even held hands, he said that he half expected that at any moment a “hot woman” would appear out of nowhere and demand to have sex with him.

“That was my whole perception of how it was supposed to go,” he said.

“In porn, women are portrayed as these sexually driven animals. It’s all they want; it’s all they care about. It warped my perception for so long.”

He didn’t realize how much, though, until, at age sixteen, while surfing a Russian social network that allowed him to circumvent his parents’ safety filters, he watched a video of a woman defecating into a hotdog bun.

She poured condiments on the result and handed it to a second woman, who ate it.

I asked Mason if he found that arousing. “It was, kind of,” he admitted.

“Outside of that specific context, I would find this obviously disgusting act to be repulsive. I do find it repulsive.

But it was being portrayed as extremely sexual. That’s what porn does. Just media in general.

Sexualizes anything. Sexualizes people eating poop. And it boggles my mind how easy it was to be drawn in by it all." (…)

The girl herself, who was a year younger than him, also seemed to have taken her cues from porn.

She would writhe and moan when Daniel jackhammered a finger into her vagina.

When he told her he wanted to “take a break” from their relationship, she offered up anal sex to change his mind (although that idea could equally have been inspired by mainstream films such as Kingsman, in which the hero’s incentive for saving a Scandinavian princess is her promise that “we can do it in the asshole”).

He accepted, but the experience was nothing like what he’d seen on-screen.

“It was really difficult,” he recalled, “and it hurt her intensely. She was in pain. That was nothing I wanted to see. It was fucked up. And I felt like shit afterward.”

The two did eventually split up, briefly; they reunited after a round of rough sex in an elementary school parking lot, during which he choked her, pulled her hair, and, at her request, slapped her across the breasts.

That was the first time Daniel climaxed without using his hand. “It was the best sex we ever had,” he recalled.

Certainly, people have predilections, but it’s troubling that both instances of aggressive sex Daniel recounted happened when his girlfriend believed their relationship was in jeopardy.

Daniel himself considers his behavior to be contrary to the intimacy he claims to crave.

He doesn’t know whether that disconnect is natural, part of his wiring as a sexual person, or shaped by his repeated consumption of prepackaged fantasies."

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 454, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) neonatal death

WORDS: 1066

“We’re home sweetheart,” Peter announced in a soft voice, settling me down onto the bed and kneeling to remove my socks and shoes.

“Daddy…” I whined, arching my hips up as I told him what I wanted.

“Calm down,” he chuckled, unzipping my denim shorts before shimmying them down along with my cotton panties, tossing them off into the laundry basket that was by the closet in preparations of being hoisted down the stairs and lugged into the laundry room the following day. He then sank to his knees, throwing my knees over his shoulders as he waited until I pulled a pillow underneath my back for more support.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH…” I yelled as his beard began to rub against my sensitive folds, sending me zinging upwards towards the first of many earth shattering orgasms.

Peter didn’t stop as I gushed out my first release, clearly egged on by my whimpering moans as he directed my hands to grasp onto his hair, guiding him.

“Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl…” he lavishly praised me in between lapping at my womanly flower. “Are you ready for my dick yet?”

“Fuck yes daddy!” I whimpered loudly, my eyes rolling up into the back of my skull as he stood up and worked me out of my shirt and bra. “Bruise me black and blue with your cock… please daddy, I need to feel your naked cock explode inside me… please please please…”

“As my woman commands of me,” snarled Peter as he fitted his cockhead into my wetness and thrust in, surrounding himself with my tight warmth.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I howled as he began to jackhammer his manly member in and out of me. “Yes daddy yes… just like that, JUSTLIKETHAT… yes yes yes…”

Peter pulled orgasm after orgasm out from my sobbing, pregnant body, lavishing me in gentle love and soft hip thrusts, promising me the sun, the moon and the stars and apologizing for not being there to protect me.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked me after my latest orgasm. “You want to take ten minutes?”

That sounds like a good idea daddy.

“Knock knock,” Isabelle called out just then, stepping over the baby gate that was pulled up, moreso out of habit. “Hey, is it alright if I join you two for a round or two?”

“Sweetheart?” Peter asked me before motioning Isabelle in, where she discarded her bathrobe, revealing her yellow and blue lingerie. She ran her hands over her breasts as Peter leaned over and yanked a wrapped foil packet out from his bedside drawer. “My sweetheart is the only woman who can kiss my naked dick with her lips.”

“That’s cool,” Isabelle shrugged, watching with hooded eyes as Peter stroked himself to full erection before quickly sheathing himself and patting his lap as an invitation to the younger woman. She flashed a white smile at us before sinking down on him with a soft groan.

She began bouncing on him, her hands steadying herself on his chest as her breathing became labored and heavy.

I kissed her, groaning as Baby Violet Marie began kicking and punch away quite savagely.

PUNCH KICK KICK KICK PUNCH PUNCH KICK PUNCH

“Take it easy in there now, Baby Violet Marie!” she scolded the unborn girl, planting her hand over my belly button.

PUNCH KICK PUNCH KICK PUNCH KICK PUNCH KICK

I reached out and began to rub lazy circles into Isabelle’s gummy button, ending with her crashing down in between Peter and I, knocked out as my husband turned to me. I laid back into the thick pillows that rested at the head of the bed, spreading my whorish legs as I invited him in to fuck me stupidly into next Thursday.

I was gasping and whining, much like a professional porn star as my husband made love to me by using his bare sword to send sizzling pulses racing through my veins before finally imploding in on oneself and sending a barrage of rainbow flicked sparkles raining down my vision.

“Sweetheart, my sweetheart…” my handsome husband cooed as we both fell into his side of the bed, Isabelle conked out on my side. “Should we reuse the furniture that Aaron and James bought for little girl, or should we get new stuff?”

The current furniture is still good. We can reuse everything- I highly doubt that they would mind any.

“We’ll save on some money there,” he smiled into my shoulder as our legs knotted together. “Why don’t you make up an Amazon wish list of what all we’ll need and I can pass it along to my family?”

Okay.

“Are you going to want a baby shower?” he asked me next, placing his hand into my jaw, his thumb gently stroking my cheekbone.

I don’t know. Probably not- I can’t deal with baby drama right now. Plus, Baby Violet Marie is a high risk pregnancy. But if people want to buy presents, they can do so, I guess.

“Okay, my sweetheart.” He smiled, rolling me onto my side and spooning me into his manly, muscular body. “Now, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow, Bitty and Katie start their first day at summer camp, and you know what that means.”

Yes daddy.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@starchild0985

[dancefloors]

where's the harry's house unhinged ranking maam

alright this is longer than the other two combined but it's not my fault he is a madman. here we go

Matilda: was this necessary. was this necessary. Hey quick question was this necessary. I think we all know why this is number one and it's especially sickening that this ONE SINGULAR TIME in his career he chose not to be even a little vague in his lyrics, not one word minced. like did he really need to say "your family never showed you love" with his chest like that :/. second of all, writing a song about found family and DIY-ing clothes and growing up isolated and naming it after Matilda knowing his whole fanbase is made up of sentimental homosexuals and repressed eldest sisters WAS targetted behaviour. in second person too. he really said "YOU are gay and alone.. but it is okay ❤️".

Keep Driving: the already infamous choking/cocaine line, the science, the edibles, the bad-driving metaphor etc etc yes, ALL psychotic. but probably the most unhinged unnecessary part is the sickly sweet slap in the face that is "hashbrown, egg yolk, I will always love you" ambushing me with no forewarning. makes me want to jackhammer my head into the nearest wall until my skull is pulverised. why would you put a line like that in a song that is also about sideboob and then have the audacity to tell ME to "just act normal"?? you are preaching from hell.

Music for a Sushi Restaurant: he put his brain in a blender and then served it up. just absolutely saying whatever the fuck, not even trying to make sense, 50 different things going on at all times. like it's him in the studio reading a takeout menu over that Glee Club ba ba-ba acapella harmony, making a british pun about cocaine, hitting dog frequencies with those falsettos, pondering society if we could eat stars, and then proudly declaring he's not going to go broke as if anyone even asked. like okay..... music for a psych ward.

Little Freak: yeah he clearly walked into the studio dick first with this one but pensively somehow. talking about wet dreams but i feel like witnessing a slam poetry reading. philosophical horniness. Little Nietzsche.

Boyfriends: he had a simon and garfunkel beat, gay misandry in his heart, and a dream. doubly psychotic that this was conceived on the same day as the Fuck Straight People anthem that is Lights Up... he said heterosexuality it ain't me 🤣🙏 but you gay people are on thin ice too. (also let's not think too hard about "I'm not ever going back" / "you fool, you're back at it again"...... his mind is a saw trap)

Love of My Life: I do actually subscribe to the idea that this song is about England and not a person bc it makes it so funny. "you were the love of my life, will it ever be the same, I wish I knew you better"... brother it is a country. England unfortunately still exists. where is it going to go. you are so dramatic.

Cinema: never witnessed a more aquarian move than being in an intimate relationship with someone, sleeping in the same bed, going on late night drives, dancing, spending all your time with them and then after all that being like do you like me tho do you think im cool do you think im chill? then he spends the last 1 minute making a sex pun about popcorn.

As It Was: are we institutionalising ourselves or shaking ass like what is the energy here. why does this song about clinical depression make me want to do 15 consecutive cartwheels

Satellite: "am I bothering you do you wanna talk" to "I don't want to talk to you" within 60 seconds. if i said i want to talk then i didnt bc i dont. no i didnt <3

Daydreaming: yeah yeah a song about horny dreams what's new. the most insane part of it though is definitely the bass line like.... that is the bass line written by a man taken HOSTAGE. a man FIGHTING for his LIFE. convinced kid harpoon was in that studio with a gun to Harry's head, finger on the trigger and all. Like everytime I listen to this song I imagine him getting waterboarded because there's no other explanation.

Daylight: the insanity of sandwiching a song about riding bikes and sitting on roofs and finding life and bluebirds and honey between one about crippling loneliness and one about dangling wet dreams. be serious for once in your life harry.

Late Night Talking: funky little anthem but what do you mean "late night talking"? we all know ur geriatric ass is all tucked in by 9PM on the dot, Scrooge nightcap on and all. stayed up til 9:30 and wrote a whole song about it.

Grapejuice: mostly just toothache-inducingly sweet but sidenote: i truly despise being provided insight into his food/wine taste bc its always horrific and caucasian. genuinely enjoying red wine..? please stop. imagine you go over to this man's house and he's serving pile of boiled peas with some nasty ass shiraz to wash it down lord have mercy

(and hs1 and fine line ranked for ur displeasure)

[babeydollx]

Lessons pt. 3 {JJ Maybank & John B Routledge}

Warnings: cursing, sex, sharing pussy, very slight degrading from JJ, unprotected sex

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader x John B Routledge

Summary: basically continuation of part 2

Requested: HIGHLY

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: finally decided to release this lmao

Part 1

Part 2

You gently pushed John B off you. He still seemed confused and you sat up. You looked to JJ who also was able to see where the issue was.

"What is it?" John B asked.

"Well it's just... you can't just start jackhammering into me. Y'know like, that's not gonna make me cum." You said.

"I- what? Well what the hell am I suppose to do?" John B asked, he obviously seemed a little frustrated that he couldn't get it right.

"It's ok John B. Don't get so upset we can just explain it." You said calmly. John B nodded and started listening now.

"It's just like.... a build up or like a rhythm. You need to build me up to my orgasm." You said trying to explain it as best as you could.

"John B doesn't seem to get it Y/N." JJ said getting up. "He seems more like a visual learner." JJ said.

"I- what are you saying?" You asked with a confused chuckle.

"Why don't you and I show him what you are trying to say." JJ said with a smirk. John B bit his lip a little, obviously turned on by JJ's idea.

"I mean... as long as John B is down, then I'm down." You said looking to John B. JJ looked to him as well.

"Well man? You down?" JJ asked.

"I- uh- yeah." John B said nodding as he got up off the bed. John B went and sat in the chair that was in the room and then JJ got onto the bed with a smirk.

"You love being fucked and getting so much sexual attention from two men while being watched don't you?" JJ asked with a smirk.

"Mhm.." You said with a small giggle.

"Such a little whore." JJ said with a smirk before kissing you. You kissed back, running your hands through his soft blonde hair. He then sat up and aligned his cock with your entrance. You spread your legs wider for him.

JJ slid into you with ease, making you both moan out softly. He started off slow, thrusting into at a slow and gentle pace. You moaned out softly and rested your head on the pillow. After being slow and gentle for a few minutes, JJ slowly started to pick up the pace.

You moaned out louder as he began to go faster. He always knew how to make you feel so fucking good without fail. After a few minutes of him thrusting and picking up the pace he found your g-spot and began to hit it over and over again.

You got louder and threw your head back as he was now pounding into you, hitting your g-spot with every fucking thrust. He felt like he was made for you, like he fit so perfectly inside of you. Your back arched off the bed and you were almost screaming at this point.

Your moans were music to JJ's ears. He loved hearing you moan out for him, moaning his name, and he loved to hear you screaming for him. And he was going to make it sure that you screamed for him tonight.

JJ kept going faster and faster, you moaning out his name louder. After a few minutes of him thrusting into you at an ungodly pace, he had you screaming. You screamed his name and all your moans had just turned into screams now.

"Fuck! Oh god I'm going to fucking cum!" You screamed.

"Come on, cum for me." JJ groaned out. With that your legs began to tremble and your eyes screwed shut as a scream tore through your throat, coming on his cock hard. JJ thrusted into you a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of your pussy, painting your walls white.

JJ pulled out of you. You laid there catching your breath with JJ's cum dripping out of your pussy. He saw and took his fingers and scooped up his cum mixed with your own juices before forcing it back inside of you.

"So, did you see how I did that?" JJ asked looking to John B.

"Uh- yeah." John B said with a nod.

"Ok good. So, do you think you'll be able to do this now?" JJ asked. "Because if not, I don't mind showing you for a second time." JJ said with a smirk. As much as John B would love to watch JJ fuck you again, he wanted to experience your pussy.

"No man, I think I am good." John B said.

"Ok. Good luck bro." JJ said patting his shoulder. John B got up and walked overt to the bed where you were laying. JJ sat in the chair that John B was sitting in before, watching the two of you. John B got onto the bed and you spread your legs for him. He grabbed a condom off the nightstand and ripped the packaging open before sliding it onto his cock.

"Don't be nervous. Just remember what JJ showed you." You said giving him a reassuring smile. John B nodded and then he aligned his cock with your pussy. He would've teased you but he was so fucking hard for you, he couldn't wait any longer.

John B did what JJ showed him and slowly pushed his cock into your pussy. You moaned out softly when he did so. John B started off slow, thrusting into you at a slow and gentle pace like JJ did. You moaned out, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Once he had been thrusting into you slowly and gently for a while, he started to pick up the pace slowly. You gasped and moaned out a little louder as he did so. You couldn't lie, of course JJ fucked you best but, John B's sex felt pretty fucking good too.

After a while he was now thrusting into you fast. You moans were loud and you locked your legs around his hips. You threw your head back and moaned out louder for him. The sight of you like this under him made his cock even harder.

You felt that familiar knot growing in your stomach and you moaned out loudly. You could tell John B was close too because his thrusts were getting sloppy. You clenched around his cock, signaling to him that you were gonna cum.

"Come on Y/N, cum for me." John B said putting his face in your neck. With that your legs began to tremble and you saw stars as you came hard on his cock. After a few more thrusts John B came too. He pulled out and took off the now filled condom tossing it into the trash.

"Holy shit. You two boys are fucking amazing." You said with a giggle. JJ got up out of the chair and came over to plant a kiss on your lips. John B got dressed and so did JJ. After JJ got dressed he helped you get dressed again.

"Uh- thanks for the help guys." John B said looking at the two of you.

"It's no problem really." You said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, your my best friend man. Of course I would help you out. And if you ever need help with sex again, you know who to come to." JJ said with a smirk. John B chuckled and then he left. After John B left a frown spread across JJ's face. You saw that he was sad now.

"What's wrong baby?" You asked holding his hand. JJ looked at you.

"I'm sad that it's over. I want it to happen again." JJ said.

a/n: I hope y'all enjoyed this story!

Taglist: @maybankforlife @luversgirl

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Toying with the Driver - An August Walker/Reader smut drabble.

It’s about time I wrote for August, especially with how popular he appears to be! 

Words - 889

Warnings - Smut. If you’re under 18, go away! 

“I need you to pull over somewhere quiet.”

“Oh, really?” He looks at you from under a slight furrowed brow, wondering if this is yet another pee break you need to take in the middle of nowhere.  

“Yes.” Letting your dress fall, exposing your bare breasts, you begin to trail your fingernails over your nipples, moaning softly, knowing you’re nothing but pure enticement to him as he glances between you and the road, his hand reaching to caress your thigh.  

“There’s nowhere for a while yet, but when I can, I will.” While you wait to happen upon the perfect place to pull in, his hand creeps up your thigh, pinching you to make you part your legs wider for him. “There’s a good girl.”  

His praise sends a lightning bolt right to where his fingers skim, playing with your slit as you pinch at your nipples, biting your lip and slipping your feet from within your shoes, resting one up on the seat to grant him the better access he immediately takes advantage of.  

“God, you’re getting me so wet.”  

His foot hits the accelerator pedal, keen to find a place to pull over, especially after you walk two fingers up his solid thigh, reaching his crotch to begin stroking him through his pants.  

“Little vixen.”

“And what of it?”

He shakes his head, eyes returning to the road, a soft grunt emanating his nose when your fingertips seek the head of his hardness and begin to rub, feeling the fabric becoming wet with precum, his fingers speeding up their circling around your clit. Another five minutes of driving have you right upon the perfect place, a line of trees heading off from the highway, a small track between them that he pulls the 4x4 between, parking up and killing the headlights while you climb into the back.  

He’s much too large a man to be able to seat scramble with quite the same nimble agility you possess, so gets out to join you on the back seat, closing the door with a soft clunk, reaching for your thong and yanking it off as his mouth seeks yours through the darkness. You exchange hungry kisses, hands touring one another, feeling, gliding, the heat between you both beginning to smoulder.  

He groans a soft grumble at your teeth scraping the column of his throat, all hungry kisses and nibbles over stubble flecked flesh, his hands gliding down your back in sumptuous exploration of all he’s been craving while he drove.  

The grit of his groan as you sway your hips forward against him, grinding his crotch and furtherly awakening his cock goes right to your cunt, his hand there moments after, resuming rubbing your wetness hungrily. The heat of you has him seeking your lips, exchanging scorching kisses in a battle of eager tongues, having you panting into his mouth as his fingertips seek your clit.

That action has an immediate radiating effect, heat building to tempest as you mewl and kiss him fiercely, your hand plunging between you to unfasten his belt with eager haste, wanting to feel him too. Pulling the long, thick phallus out, you enjoy caressing him, both hands touring his shaft, enjoying how solid he feels within your touch. August has other ideas, though.  

“No. I’m going to fuck you, right now.” His powerful dominance is baleful, his large hand encircling your wrists and pinning your arms against the window, using his other hand to take his cock and slowly massage your slit for a few strokes, a little tease first.  

With a lustful grunt, he then arrows himself deep into your soaking centre, pausing for a moment, enjoying those viscid clenches that pulse around every inch of his thick shaft before slowly dragging back out once more. That’s truly the only moment of contained action, August grasping your thighs and spreading you wide as he begins to immediately move within you like a jackhammer gone wild.  

It’s unbridled, passionate, have-to-have-you-immediately sex, raw and uncontained, his cock hitting your summit as you flex around him, the sound of him cutting through your wetness the only audible noise along with your mutual heavy breathing.  

Your cunt clenches on him, sparks crackling through you as the heat of him cuts right through to the marrow of you, hard and unrelenting. He steals the groan you cannot contain any longer with more sumptuous, hungry kisses exchanged, the car shaking with the violent assailing of your body.  

The thick heat of him has you sparking, crying out, hands flexing against his grip as you raise your hips and meet his movements in perfect sync with him, everything becoming a flurry as his cock pounds your summit so deeply, you wail, August finally letting go as his body falls to yours, your nails tearing down his back and grasping his taut bum, encouraging him to go deeper.  

His hips stutter, thrusts becoming staccato, losing any kind of control as he gives you himself with voracious need, your waves crashing against his shore as you bloom wildly for him, both of you twitching and pulsing through your releases, overcome and trembling in the aftermath.  

“It’s a good job this car has new shock absorbers.”  

A good job indeed, considering how hard he just railed you in the back of it.  

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten), Namjoon x Vixen (mentioned)

Wordcount: 8.7k words

Genre: smut, a tinyyyyy bit of angst, pwp, established relationship, idol!au

Rating: very18+ 

Hello strawberries! With Namjoon’s Steamy Waters we saw the guys leaving for tour, with Yoongi we see them come back. Of course there will be a few things happening in between the two fics, but that will come later (see it as some special piece similar in terms of genre to Girls’ Night). Quick recap of the plot: Yoongi comes back from tour and Kitten is there to greet him. It has been a long day, and a he’s been away for a long time: the two decide to head to the shower to help Yoongi get rid of his travelling filth and help Kitten get rid of her bitter feelings. (AKA that one time Yoongi finally convinced Kitten to move in with a very unorthodox method.)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: filth. Swearing. Sarcasm. Dirty Talking. Slight angst (Yoongi’s shoulder is sore; Kitten finds condoms in his travel bag and she is afraid of cheating, even though she knows Yoongi is 3000% faithful, past relationship trauma). Shower blowjob, cum swallowing, cock worship and breast worship, lots of ass grabbing (both male and female receiving); again, Yoongi wakes her up with oral which is something he does a lot but still, it’s non explicitly consensual since she’s sleeping, he asks for consent as soon as she wakes up. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (GET TESTED BEFORE GOING BARE WITH YOUR PARTNER. PLEASE. USE CONDOMS UNLESS YOU’RE 1000% SURE YOU’RE CLEAN). Spooning sex, fingering, he uses his fingers as a gag. Multiple rounds and very multiple orgasms and squirting. Mentions of a cocksleeve. Mentions of anal sex; mild anal play (female receiving), mentions of rimming (female receiving). Use of a G-spot vibrator with remote control via smartphone, squirting, cunnilingus and face riding, crying, slight degradation, use of safeword, old school missionary jackhammering, choking kink. On a side note, reader is bisexual and everybody has a crush for Vixen

If you want background music for reading I suggest playing the whole About Time album by Sabrina Claudio or Over It (complete set) album by Summer Walker. [Thank me later 😉] 

Finally, here is my masterlist and well, Enjoy!!! ✨💜

———————————

You stood in the middle of the underground parking lot of Yoongi’s apartment, waiting for his van to arrive from the airport. Today he was back from the tour and you’d taken a few days off work to spend time with him.

You stood there, checking some emails on your phone when the doors of the lift opened on a dolled up Vixen. 

You had seen her wear black, blue and white quite consistently, head to toe impeccable at all times. That’s why you had to do a double take when you saw her in a pink, frilly, tiny sundress that looked like it could unravel if you stared at it for too long. 

“Am I late?” She asked, only to stare at you and realise that if you were there waiting, then no, they hadn’t arrived yet. “Sorry, dumb question, I’m just excited.” She smiled nervously, fixing non-existent creases on her dress.

“There’s a bit of traffic. They’ll be here in a minute, though.” You explained, putting down your phone. “Plans for a date?” You asked her, looking at her outfit.

“No, actually. I just wanted to dress pretty.” She said, elegant and sweet as usual. 

You smiled and looked at your oversized, worn-out T-shirt from a rockband you listened to when you were a teen, and the loose cotton shorts that reached your mid-thigh, paired with casual flip flops. You weren’t even wearing your nice bra. Not that Yoongi would care about that once he took your shirt off. Bras were just a nuisance to him anyway. 

“Are you on vacation?” She asked, checking her phone before locking it again. It lit up again with a notification, her lockscreen showing a picture of a boy staring at a sculpture. No doubt, Namjoon. 

“No, just took a few days off.” You replied kindly. You checked your phone yourself. “You and Joon are going on holiday?”

“Just a quick getaway.” She explained, beaming at you. She looked radiant, as if the last seven weeks had never existed. But her face looked slimmer. Her arms too. You had often met at the gym, spending time together and working out, ‘to stop thinking’ she had said. And you had bonded like that, over working out to stop your brains and dull your edges while your boyfriends were away. 

You tried not to think if Namjoon was going to propose while they were away. Yoongi had mentioned the man was considering the idea. “Then have a safe journey and a nice holiday.” You said, grinning. “Hope you can get your fill of him.” You said smirking. 

She caught the innuendo mischievously. “Trust me, I will.” She replied before winking. 

The bar to the parking lot lifted, before a black van entered the space, stopping a few slots away from you. 

Vixen was basically skipping on her toes, ready to throw herself at her boyfriend. Beside her, you felt like a flock of hummingbirds had been caged inside your chest, the fluttering feeling almost uncomfortable. When you heard the doors open, your ears stopped working, blood pressure making them perceive nothing but a dull beeping sound. 

Namjoon appeared from the door, Vixen dashing to him and throwing her whole body into his arms as he picked her up. The whole scene was very romantic and dramatic — just in their style —, almost making you sneer in a mysanthropistic fit, however the smaller figure appearing behind the lovey dovey couple made you reconsider your hatred towards humanity. 

Let’s be clear, you weren’t normally this sour, but seven weeks without Yoongi had taken their toll, and all you wanted was to incinerate every couple until he had had his sweet way with you and you weren’t underloved and underorgasmed anymore. 

“No dramatic welcome back for me?” He asked, staring at you from the distance with his hands on his hips. “No balloons and banners?” He shook his head. “You’re a disappointment.” He grinned at you. 

“You’re sucking your own dick tonight.” You teased back, Namjoon and Vixen too caught up in their idyllium to bother with your bantering. 

He shrugged. “Thank you for letting me know.” He opened his arms and you walked towards him, hugging him tight as he did just the same, your arms around his neck as he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you to him. “Hi, Kitten.”

“Hello, Yoongles.” You said, your voice emotional. 

“I’m sorry, I smell a bit.” He said, thinking about all those hours on the plane. 

“Not really.” You said, nuzzling into his neck, reacquainting with his cologne. “You’re as good as usual.”

His hands rubbed up and down your spine. “Let’s go upstairs. It’s too hot outside today and I could kill for a shower right now.”

The back of the van was already open as Namjoon took out the suitcases. 

“Hyung. Here is yours.” He said, letting it roll towards Yoongi. 

He thanked and caught it, sprawling his left hand over the top of it before catching the handle. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the tendons and veins just below the pale skin, jumping and flexing at the effort. 

You had missed those hands. Dearly. Deliriously. 

As he noticed your focused stare, he smirked, his other hand searching for your fingers, intertwining them with his. “I have my backpack too. Careful, there’s equipment inside.” Said Yoongi, pulling at your arm as he neared the back of the van and grabbed his stuff. 

“Let me get that.” You said, fussing over him. He looked tired and thin. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Not too bad.” He said. “A bit crumpled up because of the long trip and the air conditioning, but overall not bad.” He let you take the backpack though, showing you that yes, it was probably not nice. 

“I’ll have a cold pack ready upstairs.” You said, kissing his temple. The boys and Vixen said goodbye to the driver as he left, leaving the four of you trying to fit inside the lift.

It wasn’t too difficult and you were grateful that Namjoon stayed mostly silent even as his hand kept drawing patterns on the back of Vixen’s naked thigh, climbing decisively too high — and too under her dress — for public decency. Not that he noticed you or Yoongi staring and looking at each other conspiratorially, trying to find ways to tease him about it in the future. 

Anyway, Yoongi drew you close with an arm around your waist, whispering in your ear, “I’m just as needy myself.”

You turned to look at him with a knowing smirk. “I wouldn’t expect any less.” You whispered back, pressing your brow to the side of his head. 

Luckily, the doors dinged and opened, making the sweethearts quit their endeavours and hurriedly grab the suitcase and the smaller carryon. Next, you took care of Yoongi’s luggage, helping him slide it down the corridor, to the door of his apartment. Namjoon and Vixen stood in front of the door beside you while he opened the front door to their apartment and brought his stuff in. 

“I don’t think I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Namjoon commented. 

“I don’t think so, no.” Yoongi replied chuckling as you raised your eyebrows and looked away, avoiding Namjoon’s knowing smirk. 

“Then have a nice break. Guess I’ll text you.” Namjoon replied. 

“Of course.” Yoongi said. 

“Kitten,” Namjoon greeted with a small nod. 

You waved at him, at the same time as Vixen said goodbye to the both of you and Namjoon picked her up again. 

“We didn’t tell them to keep it down.” Yoongi realised after staring at the closed front door for a couple seconds. 

“We could sleep in your studio.” You reasoned with a doubtful pout. 

Yoongi’s expression unintentionally mirrored yours. 

“Shall we?” You said, gesturing to the door.

He placed his arm around your waist and dragged you in. “I’m not strong enough to carry you like that.” He said, closing the door. 

“They’re so disgustingly sweet.” You replied, shaking your head and combing his hair with your fingers. He looked so good with black hair. 

“You say that only ‘cause it’s been too long since I last fucked you.” He replied, ignoring the suitcases and placing his lips on yours, chastely, sweetly. 

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered, rubbing his lips on yours tenderly. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You replied, placing your hands on his ass and pushing him closer to you. 

“I love you.” He murmured with his deliriously sexy voice. 

“I love you.” You echoed, squeezing his behind eloquently. 

He grinned. “Did Namjoon give you ideas?” He said, referring to the lift scene. 

“I’m just appreciating the small things in life.” You quipped, making him part from you with an outraged frown.

“My ass is not that small.” He opposed. 

“You are small.” You replied, cupping his face and squishing his cheeks. 

“You have clearly forgotten how it feels to have my cock inside you.” He teased right back, gripping your ass himself and pushing you against his front, making you feel his hardening length. 

“Maybe you could give me a reminder.” You wondered. 

“I need a shower.”

“And I need to blow you, which, in my opinion, makes an excellent combination.” You said reasonably. 

He grinned and shook his head. “Fuck, if I missed you.”

“Yes ‘fuck, if I missed you’, but also fuck me, please?” You said, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands with your palms up in front of him in a helpless pose. 

“Let’s get that shower first, yeah.” He rubbed his hands up and down your sides. “You’ve waited so long that you can wait a bit longer, right.”

“I repeat, you’re this close to sucking your own dick tonight.” You warned jokingly.

“Then we can have that shower and let you blow me before you change your mind.” He teased, calming you down with heavy touches to your cheeks and hair.

He was secretly enjoying the feel of you in front of him, getting reacquainted with the materiality of you, with the joy of feeling you at his side, of feeling you, full stop. He had never known he could miss touching someone. Innocently, attentively and lovingly. 

He had missed the feel of you under his hands. Combing your hair, hiding his nose in the crook of your neck, holding your hands. 

Holding your hands. 

He felt like he could do just that as you fell asleep on the bed. 

He felt so tired. 

“Let’s go.” You said, noticing his tired gaze. 

“The bags.” He said, pointing at his luggage in the entry. 

“Later.” You replied, squeezing his hand and leading the way to the bathroom adjoined to your bedroom. 

“How was the journey?” You asked, taking off your shirt once you entered the bathroom door. 

“Tiring. Very long. We had a long delay due to the connecting flight being late.”

“You had a connecting flight?” You said, incredulous, stopping as you were taking off your shorts. 

“Well, it’s pretty difficult finding direct flights from Europe to South Korea.” He said, taking off his own shirt. 

You turned around to look at his naked torso. It was pale as usual, more sculpted, but barely, still you immediately spotted the slightest curve on his belly and relaxed. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Next he took off his loose linen sweats, a pair of plain white boxers emerging underneath. His calves were slightly bronzed, and as he noticed you staring he explained. “I stayed out with Hoseok one afternoon. I had bermudas on.” He pouted. 

“My poor little cracker.” You cooed, getting closer to him in nothing but your underwear. As he hugged you, his hands went immediately to the clasp of your bra, unlatching it. 

Grinning, you took it off and offered it to him, who threw it hatefully behind his shoulders. “I hate that shit.” He sneered, before cupping each of your breasts and pushing them up, planting his face snug in between. 

“I missed you.” He mouthed, kissing both. 

You giggled. “Are you talking to my tits.”

“I am appreciating the great things of life.” He murmured. 

“I hope appreciating them includes covering them in hickeys and cum.” You commented, caressing his hair as he kept trying to suffocate himself between your boobs. 

“What if I appreciated your dirty mouth first?” He teased, opening the tap to the shower and feeling the water temperature with the palm of his hand before bending down to take off his boxers. 

His cock was half mast, as glorious as you remembered it, the hair around kept just long enough to stay soft. 

As he noticed you staring, he snickered. “It looks like you really want to reacquaint with it.”

“Says the man who said ‘I missed you’ to my tits.” You teased.

“Fair enough.” He conceded, getting under the water falling from the shower head. 

Taking off your panties, you followed him in. 

“You look beautiful, Kitten.” He said, “a bit too thin, though.” He commented, running his hands up and down your sides. 

“All those nights in the gym took a toll.” You replied. 

“I still can’t believe you actually went to the gym.” He said, kissing your lips as light as a butterfly. “And just because you wanted to fuck but I was away.”

You shrugged, “the alternative was starting a very sapphic tryst with Vixen, but I don’t think Namjoon would have condoned it.”

Yoongi chuckled, “No, I don’t think so.” He admitted, massaging your ass under his palms. “Nice improvement.”

“I did Vixen’s workout. That girl is a fucking power plant.” You shook your head. “Completely crazy.”

“She is after all Namjoon’s girlfriend. I’m surprised he called her Vixen and not bunny or rabbit.” He shook his head. 

“Enough with the sweethearts. Give me the D, mr Min.” You said, getting on your knees. 

He laughed and ran his hand through your hair, while you scooted back towards the wall. You precisely knew how you wanted him. 

“Kitten. What is it.” He asked, looking at the way you parted your legs and crouched, making sure that your spine and the back of your head pressed against the wall, your heels tucked under your ass.

“I want you to fuck my mouth?” You said, eyes imploring, your hands already running down the back of his thighs, trying to bring him close. 

“You sure?” He asked, licking his lips repeatedly, swallowing once and then again in an attempt to bring comfort to his dry mouth. 

“Yeah.” You replied, looking up at him bringing your hand between your legs, testing your own wetness.

Your eyes met as he stroked his length a couple times before feeding the tip of his cock into your mouth, parted wide for him. “Tell me how deep I can go.” He murmured, pushing in slowly.

You placed your hands on his hips, pushing him deeper into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around him, covering the edge of your teeth and bobbing your head tentatively. His hand moved protectively to the crown of your head, trying to keep your head from hitting the wall. 

“Easy, tiger,” He said, chuckling, before his laugh stopped, interrupted by a moan. “Kitten, that's deep.” He murmured as you pushed him past the back of your tongue and deep into your throat. You kept him there for a couple seconds, focusing on the feel of him to avoid choking, before pushing him away. 

He placed the other hand on the wall, holding up his weight. “Are you okay, love?” He asked, noticing your reddened eyes and heavy breath. 

“Yes.” You murmured. “It feels so good to have you back.” You said, elated, as you pulled him back into your mouth, asking him with delicate motions of your arms to thrust into you.

“Missed your lips. Your tongue,” he moaned, groaning as you squeezed your cheeks against his tip. “So fucking good.” He combed your hair back and moved the hand from the wall to your chin, making you look up to him. “Look at me, ____.” He ordered you. “I want to look into your eyes as I fuck your mouth.” He leaned his forearm against the wall, plunging in with a gentle curl of his hips, his mouth wide, the water falling down his spine, his black locks plastered against his forehead. “I love your mouth. Your nasty tongue.” He drew out. “Touch yourself.” He growled, teasing you with his sexy voice. 

“Yoongi.” You moaned as he slid out. “Please.” You whimpered. 

“Please what, kitty.” He said, touching your face. 

“I want you to cum.” You cried out, scratching his abdomen lightly. 

“How do you want that?” He asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair off your face. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” You repeated, eager, your fingers rubbing in between your legs. 

“Then let me give you what you want, love.” He purred, grabbing his shaft and placing the soft, reddish tip right on your lower lip. “Is this what you want?” 

You nodded, begging him with your longing glance. 

He grinned sinfully and let his hip arch forward. 

He entered your mouth with a slow and steady stroke, giving you time to prepare yourself, until he was all the way in. 

“I'll never forget how it feels, Kitten. I've spent hours thinking about this.” He groaned, his chest heaving. 

And then he slipped out, only to stroke in again. You moaned a bit, and then kept quiet, focusing on the feel of him, on his eyes screwed shut, on the rhythmic contractions of his belly, on the flexing of his quads and his glutes. 

He was so beautiful, lost in bliss, chasing his high, stopping only when you tapped his leg twice. 

He let the tip rest on your tongue, “love that dirty mouth.” He praised you as you slurped and twirled your tongue around him. “Can never resist it.” He went on. 

Once more you pulled him towards you, humming wantonly. 

“Close, Kitten. Need your… Yes.” He groaned as you reached for his balls. “Sq–” 

He didn't have the time to give you orders: you were already doing his favourite things, massaging his sensitive spot, squeezing him gently until he sank deep into you and went silent for a couple seconds, not even breathing before he let a raspy roar tear from his mouth and echo in the small space. 

You shut your eyes tight as he gave the smallest thrust, burrowing deep into you as he spilled inside you, the lack of oxygen getting to your head, but still you tried opening your eyes, looking at Yoongi's lips hanging open, gasping for hair. 

His chest expanded in a deep breath. “For fuck’s sake.” His eyes opened slightly. 

He was leaning over you, the light dimmed by his body shielding you, the sound of the water precipitating against the floor a bit too loud for his ears and your own. 

You touched his leg twice and his eyes shot open as he slipped out quickly. “Damn it, you okay, Kitten?” He knelt between your legs, touching your cheeks and taking in your closed eyes and your chest heaving as you finally got some brand new oxygen in your lungs. 

“A bit short of breath.” You whispered, leaning into his touch and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. 

“Oh, precious.” He moved his hands behind your back, hugging you close. “Poor thing.”

“Don’t baby me.” You mumbled, raking your nails down his back, making him shiver.

“No?” He asked, smiling softly, rubbing his cheek against your hair. “You’re a tough cookie?”

You nodded with your eyes closed and he snickered. 

“My tough cookie.” He murmured, patting your head. “I missed you so much, beautiful. I love you.”

You untucked yourself from his shoulder and looked at him in the eye. “I love you, too.” You cooed. 

“What can I do for you, ____?” He asked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You dipped your head forward, hiding into him. “I want you close.” He felt his heart melt. 

“You don’t want me to fuck you?” He asked, simply caressing your head as you mouthed at his throat.

“Let’s finish the shower first.” You said, parting from him and standing up. 

He placed a chaste kiss on your hip as you stood before him, his tongue delving between your legs, tasting your honey-clad folds. “I swear the taste of your cunt keeps getting better and better.”

“We can take this to bed, Yoongi, now stand up and let me wash your hair.” You murmured, running your hands into his dark locks 

“You could wash my hair while I make out with your pussy.” He suggested. 

“I need to focus, stand up you menace.” You smirked playfully. 

He obeyed, bending his head forward, planting it between your tits. 

“Yoongi!” You said, playfully outraged. 

“Oh, come on.” He murmured. Immediately he found his usual spot and took it past his lips, sucking it with his teeth, rubbing it with his tongue while you found the bottle of his shampoo and poured some in your palm, rubbing your hands together and spreading the foam over his hair. 

“Don’t be a whiny pup.” You scolded him, spreading the soap over his scalp, carefully avoiding it going into his eyes. 

As he felt your fingers massaging his head, making sure that all the shampoo was rinsed off his hair, his lips accidentally parted in a wide yawn. 

“Let’s go to bed.” You murmured, maybe for the first time since you saw him downstairs, the dark circles underneath his eyes. 

You closed the tap quickly, stretching to reach a towel and drying him up, pressing the towel to his pained shoulder, dabbing the cotton softly before peppering a cascade of kisses on the skin. “We’re gonna put some lotion on this baddie.” You said, smiling gently at him. “Does it hurt?” Your lips still caressing his skin there while you kept drying him up, knowing how dangerous it was for him to stay wet under the air conditioning. He was delicate and something inside you, something affectionate and apprehensive, made you want to pamper him. 

“A bit.” He said, pouting, feeling like he could drop his facade now, abandoning himself to your gentle care.

He yawned again. “You had your orgasm and now you’re sleepy, kitty cat?” You teased, cooing at him cutely.

“I’m a bit jet-lagged,” he admitted, stealing a towel and opening it up, cupping your breasts from over the cotton, and then moving his attention elsewhere, brushing your belly, your arms, kneeling down and placing a small kiss on your lower belly, before rubbing the fabric over your legs, first one, then the other, helping your foot up and drying first your left, then your right one. 

“Where’s the lotion?” You asked, kissing his brow as he stood up. 

“In the carryon. It’s with the toiletries.” 

You quickly wrapped your towel around your body, exiting the room and looking for his large suitcase. You opened it, his laundry neatly folded inside, his beauty bag perfectly fitting in. As you rummaged into his beauty bag, you frowned, spotting a familiar bottle of lube and a small silicone pocket. A few condoms loose among his toiletries. 

Something in you hesitated. Even though you knew Yoongi would never, ever look at someone else, old ghosts of your ex immediately started tormenting you. 

You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling, blinking a few times before grabbing his shoulder lotion and heading for the kitchen, immediately finding a cold pack inside the freezer, and bringing it to the bedroom. You looked inside a drawer, finding a little kerchief or a bandana — whatever it was — and bringing it to the bedside table. 

Yoongi was laying in the middle of the bed, looking at you as you obstinately avoided his gaze. 

“Lay on your side.” You asked gently but coldly before he obeyed, still a bit confused at your change in mood. Was it because he hadn’t fucked you? Maybe you were okay with it, but now you weren’t anymore? Were you disappointed?

You poured some cold lotion on the round muscle, following the instruction he had taught you before he left, when he came home tired and sore from practice. And then again, his therapist had taught you some small tricks after the concert in Seoul, when you had accompanied him to the doctor the following day for his ordinary session. 

He hissed as the cold gel met his skin, while your thumbs dug into the skin gently but surely, massaging the stressed muscle. “It’ll warm up.” You said simply, spreading the lotion and massaging it where flesh and bone met. 

You opened the cold pack, cracking it in the middle and placing it behind his shoulder, where his shoulderblade and collarbone met. locking it into place by tying the bandana around it, running it around his armpit. “There you go. I’ll go rinse my hands.”

You hadn’t kissed him. Or looked at him. 

“Kitten.” He called, but you were already walking into the joined bathroom, willingly ignoring his call.

You opened the tap, rubbing the heavy stench of the gel off your hands, and then placing your clean, wet, cold palms against your cheeks, trying to calm down. 

You grabbed one of his t-shirts before you lowered the blinds, walking towards the bed and laying down on your side of the bed, curled up in a ball and sliding under the covers after turning on the air purifier. His eyes opened as you laid down, 

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” He asked. 

“I’m cold.” You replied briefly. 

“Kitten.” He called again. 

You turned away from him, taking a few deep breaths, pondering whether you should talk or not. 

“Kitten.”

“I found the condoms. In your bag.” You voice shook. “I know you would never do what he did but still.”

“Goodness.” He murmured, his breath freezing in his lungs. “Fuck. Kitten. Don’t.” He said calmly, with a reassuring tone, coming closer to you, hugging you to his chest, his tender arm coming around your body, while his good one moved under your head, pillowing it. “They’re there from when you came to our concert in Busan. Remember?” He said, kissing the crown of your head. “Remember Busan?”

You nodded. Of course you remembered. “I do.” You had changed birth control and you had used the condoms for safety. And accidentally — since you were already equipped — you had tried anal for the first time, quite to your surprise.  

“And I kept them there. Hoping that maybe you could find a way to come to one of the concerts. That maybe we could have a couple nights somewhere.” He explained, intertwining your fingers. “No one else. I swear to God, no one else, Kitten. No one else, ____.” 

You relaxed in his hold, kissing his arm under your head. “I’m so sorry. I know you would never. I trust you, but… You know how it feels.”

“I do, love. I know you trust me, baby.” He kissed your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, being so strong, my love.” 

“Can you just hold me?” You asked, slowly slipping into complete relaxation. Even though you knew feeling him inside you would be the best form of reassurance, you abandoned the idea. Because, as much as you’d love him to ruin you, what you had missed the most while he was away was his hands combing your hair before falling asleep, his chest expanding and deflating against your back as he slept behind you, his hand gently placed on your chest, while you simply laid there, basking in the peacefulness of being together. You missed combing his hair, feeling the weight of his head resting in your arms, kissing his temple as he laid his head on your shoulder, you watching a movie while he pretended not to nap.

“There you go, Kitten.” He murmured against your nape, sprinkling little pecks all over your upper back. “I missed you.” He whispered, again, losing count of how many times he had said it. His body relaxed behind yours, his mind already thinking how he could possibly offer you true reassurance later — and repay you for the blowjob. In kind. With interests. Once he was sure you were sleeping, he stood up, looking into the drawer of your bedside table and smirking once he found the small case together with the charger. 

He considered he’d better recharge it and avoid unfortunate mishaps, he unplugged your bedside lamp and connected the charger, plugging it into the toy. Satisfied with the potential developments, he curled up around you; his eyelids fluttered closed, his yawns becoming stronger and more frequent, sleep conquering his body as your own muscles loosened with Morphean abandon. 

————————————

When Yoongi woke, it was already sundown, a gentle orange light coming in from the window. Around seven pm. 

First, he noticed that his shoulder felt better. Next, he noticed that you were wearing a shirt. 

Disappointing. 

And next, he realised that he was home. At your side. In your bed. 

Finally, he realised that he hadn’t yet seen you cum. He had been home for around six hours and he had spent the majority of those sleeping. When he could have made you cum on his tongue several times. 

He started considering his options. 

With quiet and discretion, he parted from your sleeping form, heading for the small drawer where he kept bedsheets, towels, underwear and sleeping clothes. There, under a blanket, he found exactly what he was looking for. 

“Yes.” He huffed out, placing his treasure on the drawer and fixing the rest, moving back to the bed together with the soft object. He removed the cold pack from his shoulder and spread the small two-layers blanket on the free side of the bed, planning to lay it out fully once he managed to wake you up. 

Now he only had to rouse you. 

He arched his eyebrows, thinking of how he could do that without getting his cock bitten off. 

You were a very smart and adult woman, but still you took your naps very seriously, acting like a whiny child whenever someone interrupted them. 

He crawled on top of the bed, curling up in a ball below you, pressing his knees to his shoulders as he gave a tentative lick on your naked labia, his tongue insinuating between your folds until he found your sweet nectar. 

Your hips moved against his face, just barely, an involuntary movement of your body. You were still asleep. 

He gave a full lick, as far as your position allowed. 

You fussed in your sleep, maybe mumbling his name, or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He lifted your leg just enough to have access to your clit, the tip of his tongue toying with it, tapping it a couple times before he flexed his appendage and rubbed it against your sensitive spot, first in tiny licks, then in circular motions. 

“Yoongi,” this time you called for real. 

Finally happy with the result, he put down your leg and laid down behind you, placing his palm on your belly and sliding it under the shirt, feeling your naked skin. 

“Kitten?” He called, making sure that you were actually awake. 

“Yes.” You replied, your voice groggy.

“I want inside.” He murmured at your ear. 

“Yes.” You confirmed, mind still a bit hazy with sleep. 

“Yes what?” He asked with an arrogant chuckle. 

“Inside. Please.” You whimpered, your hand stretching behind you and grabbing his sex. 

“Let it be, Kitten. I’ll take care of it.” He slapped your hand away before he wrapped his fingers around his shaft, rubbing his tip against you. “You want it like this?” He said, nibbling your shoulder. “Want me from behind?”

You nodded, lifting your upper leg and hooking it back over his hip, offering him access. “You’re so good at spoons.”

He snickered. “Told you it was good.” He slid the tip in slowly, stretching your hole as the thick, red, spongy head breeched your inner cave. “Remember when we played twenty question here, in my house?” He said, voice raspy as he slid in all the way, stilling only once he bottomed out. 

“I do.” You replied with difficulty, through gritted teeth. “I rubbed you through your pants unti you came.”

“You were fingering yourself while jerking me off.” He murmured. “You were there, so open about your pleasure, so unashamed.” He kissed you below your ear, slowly sliding out. 

You whimpered as he parted from you, lifting your shirt and pushing his hand to your chest, his fingers immediately tweaking your nipple. You turned your head, trying to meet his lips, almost getting a crick in your neck at the effort. He slid in with a deep stroke, bending over you and joining your mouths. 

“In that moment I realised I had to have you.” He groaned against your mouth.

“We hadn’t even kissed and you were thrusting yourself into my hand.” You mewled as he rubbed against the tender tissue inside you. “God, you always hit my sweet spot like this.” You cried out, giving him a few squeezes. 

“So tight.” He cried out, purring against your ear. “And I hadn’t kissed you because I was afraid.” He said, almost as if he weren’t trying to possess every inch of you, as if it wasn’t the most difficult thing he had ever done, to stay perfectly still inside you as you milked him. 

“Afraid.” You said, provokingly. “Ten dates in two months and you were afraid.”

“I knew that the moment I got my tongue in your mouth, I would never slow down.” He murmured, pulling out just barely before ramming into you. “I wanted to hear you moan for me from the first time I heard your voice. So soft. So sexy.” He groaned against your ear. 

His hand moved to the other breast, your gaze focusing downwards, on his skeletal fingers, on the way they spread and constricted around your flesh. “Yoongi, I wanna cum.” You moaned, grinding your hips in circles while he gave tiny thrust that rubbed the head of his cock against your g-spot. “So good.” Your hand reached behind, grabbing his ass cheek and sinking your nails into the flesh, imprinting five red crescents into the skin, scratching it, marking it. 

His other arm slid beneath you, fumbling a little as he substituted the one on your breasts, while the other one, a bit freer, moved up, to slip his fingers into your mouth. “Suck them, Kitten. Moan around them.” He said, pressing his index and middle finger on your tongue. “Make them wet before I rub them on your clit.” He murmured, giving small circles with his hips, feeling you clench around him. 

“Close.” You moaned while he moved his fingers away from your tongue, right on your sensitive bud. 

“Come on. Cum for me.” He groaned, rubbing his palm delicately over your nipple, teasing it barely, only the tip meeting the rough skin of his calluses. “Cum on my cock. Claim it. Come on.” He said, his voice strained, his hips pushing with quick small strokes, focusing on caressing and pressing against your sweet spot. 

“Yoo—” You tried to speak his name but your mouth stayed open, a loud scream ripping from your throat, as it all became too much. “Yoongs, wait, fuck, too good!” You screamed as his fingers kept teasing you insistently, overstimulating you. “Yoongs, fuck, another!” You felt his thrusts become faster, harder as your second high approached. 

“No no no no, please, stop!” You screeched, trying to tug his wrist away, while he kept it against your mound, tucked in tight. 

“You know the word, ____.” He growled as he gave a few final strokes inside you, your whole body shaking with effort, your second high so incredibly strong that it took your voice away, your ears filled with a shrill beeping sound. “So good.” He hummed pushing your back into his chest as he stayed deep inside you, coating your cunt with his seed as he gave a couple tentative thrusts. “So fucking good, Kitten.”

“Yoongi,” you murmured with your voice hoarse. 

“The whole neighbourhood will know about you getting that good dick,” He teased, slipping out of you and holding you tight, rolling you on top of him, and then on the other side of the bed, where he had laid the special blanket just for you. 

“There’s the blankie.” You said, surprised. 

“Yup. I laid the blankie for you.” He said, as he noticed you sitting up and tearing your t-shirt off your torso, throwing it away before you rolled your body on your front. 

You smiled and nuzzled into the soft microfiber, anticipating the special treatment you were about to get. 

“Are you ready, Kitten?” He asked, rubbing your ass, then letting his finger walk up your spine, carding through your hair and grabbing it, massaging your scalp with his hooked fingers. 

“Yes, please.” You said, half still dizzy with your previous orgasms, and half dizzy with the anticipation for the ones that were about to come. 

“Would you like to stay on your front?” He asked, stretching to the bedside table and unplugging the device, placing it away from your curious eyes. 

“Yes? And then turn around?” You asked, turning your head to look at him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Maybe you could play with my boobs, choke me a little, then fuck me again?” You said, arching your back and pushing your ass up, trying to lure him in, and at the same time rubbing your sensitive nipples against the soft fabric. 

“Greedy little beast.” He said, patting your head affectionately. 

You pushed your face against it, like an obedient little cat. 

“Stay put, Kitten. I’ll come back in a second.” He said, dashing for the entry room lightning fast, rummaging in his backpack for his phone, finding it and murmuring a “aha!” before he headed back to the bedroom the small toy still placed in his palm, his fingers wrapped tight around it. 

As he entered the bedroom he slowed down, looking at you kneeling with your ass up, your front pressed against the mattress, your arm trapped underneath you as your fingers played peekaboo between your legs, tickling your folds like the long, spindly legs of a spider. 

“You got started without me?” He asked, looking at you with his phone in his hand, his other palm unfolding as he let the vaginal vibrator dangle from his fingers pinching the small cord that simplified extraction. 

“Fuck it, I love you.” You chuckled, pushing your fingers inside, feeling how deeply he had stretched you. 

“You only love me for the sex.” He said, grinning, making the vibrator swing back and forth like a pendulum. 

“That’s not true.” You said, whimpering as you hit a really good spot. You giggled. “I also love you because you’re fucking filthy.” You teased. 

He grinned his signature gummy smile and brought the toy to his face, his lips parting wide and wrapping around it, sucking it in his mouth. 

Your eyes went wide at the gesture, the cord dangling like the tail of a mouse caught in the cat’s clutches. 

He crawled behind you, placing down his phone as he caressed the back of you thighs, grabbing your ass and massaging it with his firm, strong hands. 

“Put it in?” You asked, wiggling your butt in his grasp. 

His right hand parted from your skin, pinching the cord and tugging at it, the toy popping out with a loud noise. “My filthy babe wants her cunt filled?” He asked, licking at his cum as it has oozed out of your slit, coating your inner thighs. 

“Please, Yoongi.” You purred, using your fingers to part your labia. 

He snickered and placed the toy on your entrance, letting it slide in one millimeter at the time. 

You felt every single second of it, the slightly oval shape calling for a barely-there stretch at the tip, but hitting an almost-burning sensation once you reached the widest part, Yoongi devilishly stopping it there, his other hand disappearing from your leg. 

That’s when the vibration started. Slow, steady, almost imperceptible. 

“Yoongs...” You whined, stretching the vowels in a whining tone. 

“Oh, quiet.” He shushed you, putting down the phone to caress your spine, “Be a good girl.” He murmured, scratching your butt before slapping it playfully. “You should keep up with the work out. Look at this ass.” He said, before letting his teeth sink in it. 

You screamed, the toy finally sliding all the way in. 

The vibrations started propagating inside you, together with his teeth tightening on your flesh. He would leave a mark for sure. It was only a matter of how harsh it would be, how long it would last. 

He parted from your butt, pondering for a second whether he thought it a good idea to run his tongue down the junction of the two ass cheeks, teasing the hole in between. 

Not yet. He felt like he should discuss it with you first. 

To silence his doubts he parted from you, admiring the view, letting it eventually suggest him how to proceed. 

He wished he could preserve the moment in his mind forever, even if he couldn’t quite see your face, your pretty nose scrunched and eyes shut as you focused on the feeling between your legs, trying to make it good enough to lead you to pleasure once more. 

With his phone he let the intensity of the vibration grow just a bit. A very, very tiny bit. 

“More.” You mewled, your fingers rubbing your clit. 

There was his suggestion. 

Sliding his hand up against your side, then forward, near your belly, he managed to take control of your wrist, pushing it away and trapping it behind your back. “I’m gonna give you more, but that’s all you’re gonna get, Kitten.” He warned, letting his thumb increase the vibration on the touch screen of his phone. 

“Fuck it. Yes.” You said, as the stimulus became medium-intense. 

And then mild again. “Don’t mess with me please, just please!” You cried out, writhing against nothing, parting your legs wider as he noticed the cord hang between your leg twitching with the tight contractions of your cunt. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t?” He raised the controller all the way up. 

“YOONGI!” You screamed, your body out of control as your legs gave out, pushing your hips against the mattress, the soft fiber of the blanket feeling divine on the delicate tip of your clit. 

And then again the vibration quieted down, your brow furrowing as you felt your eyes get watery, huffing out, panting and grunting as you looked for relief, grinding against the bed desperately.

With a grin he let the vibration flutter on a middle ground, giving you a fleeting feeling of stronger and weaker stimulation. 

“How does your tiny cunt feel, Kitten? Is it tight? Wet? Warm?” He asked, provokingly. 

“It feels very— Yoongi!” You called again as he let you begin talking comfortably and then turned the vibrations all the way up, making you tear up and cry out his name. 

“That’s right.” He said. “It feels me.” He toyed with the cursor on the upper side of the screen, letting it oscillate among the higher values. “It feels only me. Because that’s my cunt.” He said, talking over your small hiccups and whines. “And it’s the only cunt I want to be inside.” He snarled, bringing the controller down low again, your desperate sniffling making him feel compassionate as he let the vibrations go to the maximum and left them there, his torso rising over you as he let a dollop of spit fall from his lips to your puckered hole, his hand leaving your wrist and spreading over your ass, his thumb spreading his spit and pressing enough to cause a stimulation but gently, not to violate your delicate entrance. 

“I’m so close.” You cried out, panting, your mouth so dry as you felt the wet slide of his finger between your ass cheeks, on the sensitive skin of your anus, where even the slightest outer pressure echoed inside tenfold. 

“Cum for me.” He groaned, picking up your hips and laying his front against your back, rutting his crotch against the seam of your ass.

“I’m— Oh—” You stayed silent as the high rushed over you, an incredible amount of wetness pouring out of your slit, getting caught in the blanket, just the way it was supposed to, the double layer protecting the sheets below. “Oh, Yoongs, babe.” You said, your whole body falling down, your legs kicking and twitching as the vibration stayed too high on your still delicate spot. 

“I wanna ride your face, quick I’m gonna c—” You tried to focus on not squirting again, waiting for him to get in place. 

Mercifully, he turned down the vibrations, laying on his back, parting your knees and sliding below your pelvis, his mouth immediately finding your clit while you raised your front on your elbows, so you could make more room for him — but also to feel your breasts hang heavily, and to tease your nipples while the whole scene carried out. 

Yoongi started sucking almost immediately, one of his hands spread on your ass, rubbing it and squeezing it, the other one toying with the controller, giving you that rhythmic increasing and decreasing stimulation while you got used to the feel of him on your clit. 

And once more you were close, your inner muscles shaking violently as he hummed against you, clicking his tongue fast against your delicate bundle of nerves. 

And just like that, your hips started undulating gently above him, giving him the sign to leave the vibrations high up as you moved your weight on your hands, raising your upper body to look a his eyes focused on your bouncing tits, on your parted mouth, on your eyes, rolling shut as you gushed on him, your cum covering his upper chest as you grabbed your left breast in your palm, constricting it in your painfully tight fist, while your hips went wild on him, fucking your clit into his mouth, moving so hard and fast that he lost his grip on it while you rubbed yourself all over his face, meeting his nose, his chin and simply chasing the feel of the hard surface of his lineaments against your overstimulated clitoris. 

He basked in it, after all the time it had taken to have you this wild, this reckless while his mouth worked his magic on you. You had began your experience with him as a shy novice in the art of getting head, but now here you were, spreading your wetness all over his nose and chin and lips and dammit, forehead too, riding him with the prowess of a tiger, glorious in all your ruthless lust. 

He was aroused by your confidence and it took him a while to realise that you had collapsed over him, crying, begging, your legs kicking against the mattress while your hand had left your breast and had tightened its grip into his hair, keeping his face still first while he tried to move it side to side. Now oversensitive, with tears in your eyes, you pushed his head away, down, off of you. 

“Yoongi. Please. Oh, god. Icycle, Yoongi. Icycle.” You sobbed, your voice breaking as he quickly found the cord and pulled the vibrator out of you. 

And there you were, laying barely alive on the bed, his head under your hips, the toy vibrating on the bed, somewhere. 

He allowed himself one brief second before he lifted your hips and slid out from below you. “Kitten,” He said, worried, wiping his face and chest with a corner of the blanket while he switched off the toy, trying to turn you around, on your back, so he could see you properly. 

Obeying to his insistent hands, you turned, showing him your eyes rimmed with tears, your wild hair, your chest, still shaking with sobs and hiccups. 

“Poor Kitten.” He said, caressing your face. “You had to use your safeword, baby? Are you okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek and kissing you. 

You immediately wrapped yourself around him as he laid on top of you, your lower lip pouting. “I want you closer.” You said, grinding your hips against his hard sex. 

“Need to be fucked by my cock?” He asked. “Again?” With a gentle expression, he parted from you enough to pump his length a couple times before you felt him enter you. 

The sensation was different. With the vibration gone, all you felt was the fullness, the thrusting motion that he started straight away now that your cunt was slippery and wide. 

“Hard and fast, love?” He asked, checking on you. 

You nodded. “If possible, then yes.” You said. “Can I please touch myself? I’m not sure I can cum without after that...” You explained, his head nodding as he already dove for your tits, tightening his hand around your neck — more precisely your jugular — while his mouth focused on your left nipple. 

You felt him beginning to hammer into you, at the beginning with slow, thorough slides that had you feeling every single vein, from the tip to the base. And then he simply focused on the angle, your head growing dizzy as you gurgled his name, helpless, desperate, horny out of your mind, completely fucked out. 

“Does it feel good, Kitten?” He asked, releasing your breast and focusing on your neck, biting and leaving a few bruises and hickeys around. 

“Always.” You whispered, meeting his thrusts. 

“Then move in with me.” He said, pouncing on you in the most unexpected moment. 

“What?” You said, trying to open your eyes, to focus on his expression, his crunched nose, his lips parted and his hair sticking to his forehead with wet locks, the vein on his neck popping out every time he thrusted in and bit his lip in an attempt to control himself. 

“Move.” Thrust. “In.” Thrust. He said, grunting. 

He hit a very good angle, your fingers stilling on your clit. “Yoongi—” With a very smooth stroke, he made your eyes roll close, your lips parting in a tiny word. Very tiny. 

“Yes.” You sibilated. 

“Yes?” He asked again. 

He had probably fucked you dumb and brainless. 

“Yes.” You whispered again. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good in our home.” He said, ramming in with renewed enthusiasm, finding a speed and an intensity you didn’t think his delicate body could muster. 

“Our home.” You murmured, pushing your heels into his butt and meeting his thursts with impatient little moans as you felt your last high approach, your eyes rolling shut as he tightened the pressure on your veins and finally collapsed on top of you, your fingers strumming your clit a couple more times before you felt that definite clenching; his mouth releasing a tiny hum as he gave two small strokes, his lungs releasing a long exhale. 

“You’re moving in.” He said, exhausted on top of you. “I love you.”

In the small limbo between death and life, in the postorgasmic bliss of the French ‘small death’, you wore a small smile. “You fucked me dumb enough to make me say yes.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard my D is your kryptonite.” He joked, giggling weakly. 

“This was probably your best performance, mr. Min.” You said, patting his head. “Really fucked me dumb. Cunnilingus so good I cried. It’s a ten across the board, love.”

“Well, now that you’re moving in I’ll have a lot more time to defeat my new record. Upgrade. Improve. Elevate.” He nibbled your nipple. “Outdo myself.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. Good: getting the D anytime. Bad: having multiple near death experiences in a week. I might have to reconsider moving in.” You mumbled, combing his hair. 

“I’ll simply have to keep you dumbfucked twenty-four-seven.” He pondered. “Can do.”

You giggled. “Can do.”

[transsergio]

Emotions That I Simply Do Not Have (Read on AO3)

Chapter 1/3 - More Like A Relapse

Penemily + Hotchreid / Mature / 1893 words

Hotch and Emily have a drunken night together that Emily wants to forget, but Hotch can't let go. She and her girlfriend Penelope make a plan to get him out of their lives.

There's a brief paragraph describing Emily's dissociation in this chapter.

This started out as a parody of H*tchniss but then I got really into it. Hotch is pretty out of character and I'm picking on him this entire fic. There is no actual Hotchn*ss involved, which is why I didn't tag the ship, and because I don't need to fight with straight people today.

Emily’s head loathes her. She’s been hungover before, obviously, but this is something different altogether – she’s half-naked and her memory has completed ghosted her. There was tequila, she guesses, maybe vodka, shots, Hotch was going to give her a ride home because there’s something dangerous about a wasted agent wandering the city at night; snippets that don’t explain much beyond the ache hammering at the center of her skull.

At least Emily knows where she is. This is her apartment, her bedroom, her matted skin and grimy oils. The sheets reek of alcohol, so maybe she spilled some, or maybe it’s been sweat from her very pores. She’s missing a bra and she forgot to close the blinds last night. Only, she never forgets. It’s muscle memory. Did she…open them at some point?

The sink is running in the kitchen. And her toaster oven is beeping. Oh my god. She brought someone home last night. Hotch never would have left her in a cab with a stranger. How could Emily have picked someone up between the curb and her front door? She was a flirty drunk, but in no way smooth.

Emily moves on a slow incline, craning her body into an upright position. She winces. Sunlight beams directly into her eyes. It’s been a minute since she remembered exactly why she kept the windows covered. She pushes the duvet aside and swings her long, bare legs to the floor. They’re not bruised (yet), so she must’ve remembered to skip the stairs and go for the elevator this time. She’s tumbled down them before. Penelope made her promise she’d wear shin guards the next time she went out, Emily remembers, laughing under her breath.

Penelope, who definitely did not go home with Emily last night. She couldn’t have. She implemented a strict curfew after spending three consecutive nights in the batcave – bed by eleven, sharp. Unless Emily made a distress call sometime in the night. Emily scrunches the sheets between her fingers. A distress call, something like, “Come help me puke into my toilet for an hour and a half,” would bring Penelope running. Well, not running, but speed-walking, half awake. And it would be too late for Penelope to get home, with no one to text that she made it safely (except everyone else in the BAU, but that wasn’t the point). The point was, it could be her in there, popping Toaster Strudel in for the both of them.

Emily wobbles to her feet and kicks her crumpled slacks from her path. Oh, there’s her bra, launched to the other side of the room. She runs her fingers through her hair and hopes she made a difference, though it’s unlikely. Feet shuffle over her wooden floors, and someone opens and shuts the fridge door. Penelope uses fridges, coincidentally. That very well might be her.

There’s a cough, a low clearing of the throat. Emily stands upright like she’s been called to duty, and palms her forehead. Her headache makes it clear it did not like that. The cough does not sound like Penelope. Fear drains the strength from Emily’s limbs. Please, dear god, tell her that’s not a man.

Emily wants to crawl back into bed and have nothing to do with whoever’s in the other room. She wants to huddle under her covers and listen until the front door opens and shuts and it’s safe to emerge. She wants to have been sober last night. Instead, her phone vibrates on her dresser. Emily hadn’t realized that when it reverberates against the wood, her cell sounds exactly like a jackhammer, but she does now. She hears the same sound echoing in her kitchen.

Emily lunges for the text, from Garcia alerting them to a case, and slams all one hundred of those tiny Blackberry buttons to make it shut up, shut up, shut up. The bedroom door swings open.

“Two murders in Kentucky, looks like,” Hotch says. What? No.

Emily rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands. They come away streaked with dried mascara flakes and last night’s eyeshadow, but Hotch is still there. He’s standing in his boxers, a white undershirt, and five o’clock stubble. He doesn’t flinch at the fact that Emily is bare-chested in a pair of black boyshorts. This is bad. This is so bad.

Hotch says softly, “Can I…” Can he what? Can he call later tonight? Can he leave a toothbrush here? Can he have a drawer for his pajamas? “Can I get my shirt, please?”

“Oh.” Emily steps aside. His blue button-down is in a wrinkled pile beside Emily’s nightstand. Should she cover herself in the meantime? Would that make it weirder? He’s already seen what he’s seen, after all. The thought makes Emily gag.

“I’m going to get ready in your bathroom,” Hotch tells her. He makes too much eye contact. “There’s toast in the kitchen for you, if you want any.”

“Great, thanks.” Emily is tightlipped and dedicated to looking anywhere but his face. That leads to his boxers, and his dick inside his boxers, and the knowledge that they clearly had sex, and Emily might need the bathroom first if she didn’t vomit everything out last night.

Hotch disappears, and so does Emily’s presence in her physical body. She autopilots herself into her clean clothes, grips her dresser and stares into the mirror above it. C’mon, Emily, come back down to Earth. She tries what her therapist taught her in high school, focusing on a texture, on the feel of the woodgrain under her hands. How could she have come so far, a continent away, and still need the same techniques for the same problems? Hotch was an exercise in self-loathing and misery. Only this time, that exercise would be staring her down for extended periods of time while they mutually hunted killers.

Hotch reenters in the same suit he wore last night. Did he seriously have to wear a suit to the team’s night out? He couldn’t loosen up enough for a polo shirt and golf pants?

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me again in this capacity,” he starts. “But I had… a great time, honestly, and I’d be open to another meeting.”

Emily’s eyes are dead. “No, thanks.”

“You’ve decided already?”

“Yep. I’m good. See you on the jet.” Emily yanks the bedroom door open. His cue to leave. He takes it, if not wearing the look of a kicked puppy.

He makes it into a cab, and the cab leaves, and clears her block, and turns the corner. Emily stays for another five minutes just to be sure the car doesn’t loop back around, looking for a second chance. She washes her face clean and falls to her mattress. This will only take a second – she stabs her face into her pillow and screams. And one more time. And maybe a long one, just to be sure. Emily comes to work that day hoarse, unbathed, and willing herself into another life.

*

A month later, they’re gathered at Haley’s funeral. Hotch gives a beautiful speech, and Emily’s all but forgotten the number of texts she’s received since their hookup. The sheer volume of “Thinking about you.. do you like Thai food?” and simple, two-word messages like “Good work..”, alongside “Hey. Horny?” are a thing of the past, at least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. Emily doesn’t really know how grieving works. She does, however, know what it feels like to want.

She ushers Penelope into a storage closet while the rest of the team (plus Kevin) is at the funeral reception’s buffet. They’ll make up some story about going to the bathroom and try to defuse JJ later, assuring her that she wasn't left out intentionally. Right now, life is for living.

Emily’s lips move across Penelope’s jaw, her neck, her chest. She presses them to Penelope’s like she’s made of china, set on keeping Penelope’s lipstick intact. Penelope grips Emily while her own wrist is between her teeth to stifle her sound. Emily is gasping for breath when her fingers reach for the button of Penelope’s sweater. She is desperate to have her undone.

“Wait, wait,” Penelope huffs, putting an arm’s length of space between them. Her chest is heaving. “I can’t do this here, not today.”

“Today is why I want to do this,” Emily counters.

“We have time.” Penelope’s voice breaks. She fusses with her little hat and rights it atop her hair. “We have time that Haley didn’t –”

“How do we know?” Emily interrupts. “It could be me next. You’ve already been shot once before, and I just can’t… I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you on the fringe of my life.”

Emily wipes a tear streaking down Penelope’s cheek. Before Penelope can reach for her compact, Emily passes her hers. She says, “I don’t mean we have to do anything right now in… what is ironically a closet,” Penelope laughs and dabs at her makeup, “but I want you. And seeing you with Kevin today, having to be next to you while he holds your hand? It’s maddening.”

A quiet passes. Penelope sniffles and the crowd outside makes somber conversation. Penelope whispers, “I’m scared.”

Emily closes the distance between them and cradles Penelope in her embrace. “I know; so am I. Can we be scared together?”

Penelope nods into the crook of Emily’s shoulder. They sway in the warmth of one another, in the cramped haven that is shelves of industrial cleaner and mop buckets.

“So what do we do?” Penelope asks. “Should I break up with Kevin, or tell him the truth? Neither option feels, uh, super-duper.”

Emily snorts some of the hat’s feathers from her nose. “If you want to be outed, I think telling Kevin he’s your beard is a great idea.”

“Stop. Kevin wouldn’t do that.”

“Penelope. He’s a man. He’s going to feel used, emasculated, and plenty bitter. I don’t see a reality in which he doesn’t out you.”

“I know, I know, but I don’t think Kevin’s like that. He’s sweet on me.” Penelope further buries herself in Emily. “On the off-chance that he would, though, I guess I’ll dump him.”

Emily hums in agreement. They keep themselves safe in their darkness a little longer, resistant to go out and face the mourning. Emily’s heart is busy fluttering, anyway. She and Penelope might remain a secret, but this is officially more than a hook-up. It’s all Emily could dream of when she stormed Penelope’s batcave the morning after Hotch. When she spun Penelope around in her desk chair and strung their mouths centimeters apart – a question and a dare all in one. Penelope leaned through the divide and they were kissing, slow and tender but driven by a force that urged them on. Emily had wanted Penelope for so long, but that morning, she needed her.

When they return to the team’s table, Kevin is at Penelope’s side. Emily puts her focus on Morgan, on caring about Hotch’s well-being, anything but Kevin’s soft, drooping face. It’s like his skin could slide right off at any second. No, Emily will ask what they can do, will let the team explain that their power extends to waiting Hotch out, will squeeze Penelope’s hand as they leave for their next case in Nashville.

[jelly-drabble]

Loverman

Synopsis:  You're Fred's current object of affection, despite the family he has at home. You should probably be more careful, people do a lot of talking in small towns. (Pre-burn Freddy, if that wasn't obvious) Warnings: NSFW; choking; verbal degradation; rough sex Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844280

To call Fred a desperate man wouldn’t be totally fair. Once in a while he could show some kind of restraint and not show up to your house. Plus, to your knowledge, his wife still had no idea he was spending most nights in your bed. His cover story was weak as hell, but you believe what you want to believe when you love someone.

While he’s usually smart enough to slink around to your back door when he stops by, but when you don’t immediately answer the door for him his caution goes right out the window. This night, in particular, was going to be the line in the sand. It needed to stop. Within five minutes of being ignored, he’s pounding on your door. He isn’t yelling, yet.

“Y/N,” he hisses, you can hear it fairly clearly meaning he’s pressed up against the doorframe, “I know you’re up, open the door.”

You contemplate whether or not you should even respond. Surely he’d take the hint, or tire himself out. Another ten minutes pass and now it sounds like he’s going to break the damn door down. 

“Go home, Fred,” you tell him, still behind the locked door.

He doesn’t shoot back immediately, but you can tell he’s seething. When his fist hits the door again, you jump.

“Y/N!”

It’s loud. It’s way too fucking loud. You have neighbors. Neighbors who know the both of you. Neighbors who know Loretta, and probably see her on a regular basis. The panic cancels out your impulse control, and you fling the door open. Fred practically falls face-first into the house. You close the door behind him just as quickly.

“What the fuck was that? Are you insane?”

As if he doesn’t hear you, he makes himself at home, dropping his coat on your couch and kicking his boots off near the door. Next stop is your fridge.

“My next door neighbor has fucking book club with Loretta. Her daughter babysits Katherine. You’re fucking showing up at my back door at 3 AM, screaming my name and pounding on the door?”

“Oh relax, no one heard anything.”

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?”

He gives you a supposedly knowing look as he chugs the single can of beer he’d managed to scrounge up from the back of your fridge. It’d been left from him a few visits previous to this one. The question is ignored beyond that.

“This all you got?”

“You know I don’t drink that shit.”

He tosses the can in the trash before he makes his way back to you, stopping only when there’s a few inches of space left between the two of you.

“Guess we’ll have to do somethin’ else to pass the time then.”

“We can’t keep doing this. Especially not when you’re openly throwing tantrums on my stoop.”

“Aw c’mon, you know I’m just eager to see ya,” he reaches up to cup your face, closing another inch or two.

As sweet as you’d like to pretend he’s being, you know what he’s really after. Not that he wasn’t pretty clear about it. Being a side piece sort of added to the fantasy but… having to face the family you were threatening didn’t. Guilt and fear of getting caught had been eating at you after the first night he’d convinced you to hook up.

“Fred…”

He cuts you off, pressing his lips firmly against yours. His free hand snaked around the small of your back, and the hand that had been cupping your cheek was now grasping at your hair. Of course he didn’t care. If he did, he wouldn’t be doing it in the first place. You want so badly to stay complicit in this. Not because you want to hurt Loretta, or Katherine for god’s sake. But there was something so magnetic about Freddy. 

When he pulls back to breathe, you’ve all but melted. As if he’d just sucked all your inhibitions right out of you. For a moment he stared into your eyes, before a wicked grin cracked across his smug face. You were yanked back to reality as he led you toward the bedroom by your wrist.

“Wait! I’m serious! Your wife is gonna find out-”

You hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet, you found yourself pinned to the wall suddenly, his body pressed to yours. He leaned close to whisper in your ear, his knee pressed firmly against your crotch.

“No, she isn’t. But if you’re not careful I’m going to make sure your neighbors do.”

You’re tense, and he can tell. He doesn’t allow you any more space though, but he loosens his grip on your hips a little. Somewhere in your mind, you’d constructed a coherent defense, but being this close to Fred, breathing in his after-work scent, feeling his rough palms against your skin… it scrambled any thought you’d had beforehand.

“Loretta’s staying with her mom this weekend, she took Katherine with her. Which means,” he started fiddling with your fly, “I can fuck you into a coma. And when you wake up, I’ll be right there waiting to do it again.”

This was the first time he’d even suggested staying over. If you weren’t in deep before, you sure as hell were way in over your head now. While you mulled that over internally, Fred had started slipping your jeans down from your waist and kissing tenderly at your neck.

To your credit, you felt awful about it. Just monstrous. But you couldn’t help but whine at the attention, resting your hands on his chest with a considerable amount of hesitation.

The sound of your pants hitting the floor was like a starting gun. Before you could blink your underwear had been pulled down as well, and Fred was kneeling in front of you. His hand pressed against the underside of your knee and lifted it over his shoulder, spreading you wide open with little warning. Instinctively you tangled your fingers in his hair to balance yourself. He didn’t need any verbal command to get to work, licking one long stripe along your cunt, before flicking his tongue over your clit.

Freddy’s tongue certainly stuck out as one of his best features. He didn’t have to show you the cherry stem trick, you knew he could pull it off with ease. You’d nearly forgotten where you were while he ate you out, your vision was starting to blur and you’d gotten a little louder than a clear-minded version of yourself would have liked. He was tongue-deep inside you when your legs started shaking, which he took as a sign to stop. 

Despite your obvious protest, he pulled away from you, making a show of licking his lips just to make you blush. He was already working himself out of his pants as he stood. Impatient as ever, he only unzipped them and pulled them down enough to let his cock spring free.

“Turn around.”

Of course you did. Pants still around your ankles, face flushed red, a glassy look in your eyes. Disobeying Fred was the last thing on your mind at this point. 

First, he pulled your hips back close to him, and then with one hand pushed your face to the wall. Once he had you in enough of a demeaning position, he let go of the side of your head long enough to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

He had the decency to give you a little warning as he pressed the head against you, slipping his length in slowly. Almost painfully so. Being so utterly filled was uncomfortable to start, but once his hips started to move in a steady rhythm, the pressure didn’t feel as intense. He didn’t stay at this pace for long though, and before you’d forgotten he had your head pinned to the wall, his hips started slapping against your ass. 

The hand that he’d been digging into your hip had moved to use the bottom of your shirt as leverage, balling it up in his fist. Despite your best efforts, your moans had started to drown out his own grunts and growls. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he hisses.

You can tell he’s already starting to edge. His thighs are taut and he’s not being nearly as careful about how he pushes against your face. The orgasm creeping up to you was promising to be worth it though.

“Fucking slut… I’m gonna bust you wide open…”

His words barely register with you, but the sound of his voice does rumble in your chest.

“You’re mine, understand?” 

It’s a demand. His voice has grown dark.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Fucking say it.”

Your breath hitches for a moment, your knees are threatening to lock together and you’re starting to see flashes behind your eyes. 

“Yours…” you stutter, “I’m all yours.”

That’s all it takes. He pulls you upright against him, wrapping his hand around your throat, still jackhammering into you. He only manages a few more thrusts before he locks up, grunting in your ear as his cock twitches inside of you. The fact that he’s cumming inside you doesn’t seem to land with you either, your eyes rolling back into your head as your own orgasm rips through you. Had his grip around your neck not been so tight, you’d probably have fallen to your knees.

He lets go of your throat, and wraps his arms around your middle, panting against your shoulder blade. You nearly double over but he keeps you steady, and after a few moments like that he hoists you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom. 

Within what feels like moments, you’re out cold. He keeps his promise of lying next to you til morning.

[darlinrogue]

“ sometimes i realize one day i could die, i could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. there’d be no one to miss me and that terrifies me more than death itself. ” — kenny @ adam!

It’s All Down Hill From Here Ya’ll

Adam and Kenny || @ofgrief

Adam woke-up with the hangover of a lifetime. A whole ass construction crew wedged inside his cranium going to demolition town. Big, sweaty, muscly guys with jackhammers, wrecking balls, and heavy machinery. For some stupid reason he left the curtain open last night. Morning light spilled into the room and stabbed his eyeballs with serrated knives. Adam groaned and rolled over. He pressed his face into the pillow. His body ached, his head hurt, he was nauseous, and he kinda had to pee— shit, he hadn’t woken-up like this in a minute. Someone needed to shut-up their phone, the incessant chiming was getting on his last nerve. Then it hit him. That was his phone and his alarm going off at God’s forsaken hour of six-thirty. 

Adam slapped at the nightstand. He smacked the shit out of the alarm clock and knocked his car keys to the floor, no phone. Adam weathered the agony of lifting his head-up enough to look and hear the blasted thing beneath him. He slid halfway out of the bed and clawed at the floor beneath the headboard. Then, bingo, his hand closed around the phone and he pressed the power button to shut it up. With most of his upper body hanging off the mattress, Adam crumpled to the floor. His calves tangled with the blankets and he dragged the sheets clean off the bed with him. Flopped against the carpet, he massaged the bridge of his nose. There was a black hairband around his wrist and he had no clue where it came from. Adam yanked back his tangled, frizzy hair into a ponytail to get it out of his eyes. He laid there, blithe and numb, letting incoherent thoughts skim the surface of his consciousness. Bit-by-bit, Adam reconstructed the past twenty-four hours and it was enough to make him laugh. 

Damn, he was good.  

Eager to bask in a rare accomplishment, Adam turned his attention to his phone. He blinked and wiped the grit from his eyes as the screen flicked to life. He had one text message in his notifications. Kenny Omega, at a little past midnight texted him: [Wanna hang out?]

Adam let that time bomb tick as he unlocked his phone and checked Twitter instead. He searched Matt Hardy and perused the iconic’s Twitter feed. Another grin cracked Adam’s face down the middle. Hardy had no idea. That little task of self aggrandization done, Adam opened the messaging app. He stared at the screen and the little bubble of text from Kenny. Absent-minded, Adam reached down and yanked his belt off— only now realizing he never took it off. Then he answered Kenny’s question with a question.

[Got anything in mind?]

He paused, tongue running over his lips. Then, he untangled his legs from the sheets and blankets. Adam pushed to his feet and stumbled across the room to his bag on the desk. Inside he found Advil and a flask of whiskey. He washed the pain medicine down with a generous swig of alcohol. Adam coughed, beating on his chest to clear his dry throat. On the way to the bathroom he stripped out of his jeans. While brushing his teeth, his phone chimed. Adam spat into the sink and leaned over to read Kenny’s reply.

[My place. Dinner at six?] 

Okay, so that wasn’t ‘hanging-out.’ In Adam’s book, ‘hanging-out’ with Kenny was playing video games or going to an arcade. Maybe they’d work-out, train and drill in the ring, sit around the hotel room and watch movies. All the little things they did as a tag-team to kill time on the road or between matches. What Kenny proposed sounded like a —dare Adam say it— a date. Like two adults, sitting down over a candle-lit table, and talking about serious things for a couple of hours. Which, it was Kenny, so not a big deal, but at the same time, it was Kenny, which was a big deal. 

Since, November their relationship had been stuck in this weird, strange, gray, Twilight-Zone that was neither friendship or anything else. Cuddling in bed or on a couch, flirting, lingering too close, heady with physical desire, and softened by intimacy. Stablemates were always close, stuck on buses and planes for hours together enforced liking someone. Kenny and Adam had seen each other at the worst, at their best. This thing went beyond that. They were friends, tag-partners for a period, all they had left, and yet, nothing at all. Adam could ask Kenny: ‘What the fuck are we?’ If he thought he’d get a straight answer.

Unwilling to unpack all that, Adam dressed to work-out. He left his hotel room and started down the stairs to the lobby. He thought about dinner at six. Today’s original plan was to drive seven hours back to North Carolina, shooting straight-up I-95 along the coast. If Adam left after breakfast he’d be back in the afternoon. Staying another evening in Jacksonville wasn’t a big deal. Such were the benefits of a lonely bachelor life. A neighborhood girl usually took care of Adam’s dogs on Wednesdays. He could call her, offer a generous tip, and get another night. Around the sixth floor landing, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and gave Kenny his answer. 

[Sure, I’ll bring milk and beer. Give me your address.]

Down in the hotel gym he started his work-out, running through reps with almost memorized, mechanical ease. While Adam counted bicep curls, his phone chimed and he glanced at it long enough to see that Kenny had sent the address. Between sets, Adam popped the address into Google Maps. The house was a little over a half-hour drive away on Pointe Verde Beach, just outside of Jacksonville. Strange, because Adam had no memory of Kenny owning a house in or around Jacksonville. He heard whisper of a house near Orlando. He was vaguely aware that Kenny had stayed with Callis or Nakazawa a few times. Adam shuffled this mystery home off as another thing he just didn’t know about Kenny. He finished his work-out on the treadmill, running until endorphins blasted Kenny and the last of the hang-over from his brain. Adam returned to his hotel room to shower. 

While hot water rolled down his back and he scrubbed conditioner from his hair, Adam wondered after Kenny’s ulterior motives. Back in December Kenny made it clear what he wanted from Adam: sex. That wasn’t Adam’s own ego talking, that was straight out of the horse’s mouth. Kenny had said he wanted Adam to kiss him, touch him, and fuck him. That was what he said, almost verbatim. Adam was an adult. He spent a significant chunk of his twenties sexually active. He wasn’t shy or prudish, he had no hang-ups. He could do all the things Kenny wanted. Hell, he’d gladly do them, under the right circumstances. Provided Adam could negotiate the differences between male and female anatomy with any competence. Physical desire was absolutely a dimension of his attraction to Kenny. Except, he wasn’t sure if this was the right circumstances. The thought that Kenny was inviting Adam over to dinner for the sole purpose of propositioning him for sex, turned Adam’s stomach over. He cranked the water cold and sobered beneath the icy spray, jaw tight. He turned off the water and toweled off. Adam texted Kenny again. 

[Nak’s not going to be there, is he?]

Two seconds later, Kenny replied: 

[Nope, just us.]

And to keep some kinda banter, Adam texted him back, hoping that the words read as teasing.

[No Callis, either?]

[lmao no he’s in Tennessee doing Impact crap for the PPV. He left this morning.]

And Adam hadn’t felt this nervous about being alone with Kenny since the first time they played Mario Tennis with Chase Owens. Because shit, he’d been stringing Kenny along for months now. Sure, Callis had been a consistent cock block, but Adam wouldn’t pretend he and Kenny weren’t playing some kinda game. A no-rules, Calvinball-Esque, game with moving goalposts. There were no boundaries because Kenny and Adam never set any. That would imply proper and honest communication. All of it was impromptu and they were living on a prayer that neither of them stepped on any toes. In a way, Daily’s place was a blessing. The presence of others acted as a natural check-and-balance on Kenny and Adam’s weird dynamic. So long as they didn't talk about it, didn't acknowledge the elephant in the room, everything was fine. An evening alone felt like cutting the breaks. It wasn’t that Adam feared having sex with Kenny or Kenny outright trying to jump his bones. It wasn’t that he didn’t want that, or that he hadn’t thought about it. 

It was just that he wanted more.

Call him a sap, but Adam loved Kenny and he wanted Kenny to love him too. He wanted to go on dates. He wanted to wake-up in the same bed in the morning and to kiss Kenny awake. He wanted the small pleasure of fixing breakfast for both of them. Even to do the dishes together and all the boring domestic tasks of day-to-day life. To talk about how their days went but also to exist in quiet intimacy. He wanted to walk down the street holding Kenny’s hand. To drop casually in conversations, “My boyfriend Kenny—” To argue, make-up, and do better next time, all of it. And they were so off the rails because Adam was afraid that saying ‘no’ to Kenny in any capacity would kill what little they had. The what-ifs piled in Adam’s brain. Kenny using him for sex and then never talking to him again. Kenny telling him off for introducing more emotion that was necessary to a physical relationship. Kenny letting Adam know that he had finally moved on from his hot cowboy tag-partner and he won’t be needed anymore. The moment Kenny figured-out that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted from Adam— was the moment Adam lost him. 

Adam ate breakfast at the hotel hot bar. He had yogurt, an orange, eggs, and some links of sausage. He arranged for an extra night at the hotel and texted the girl who took care of his dogs. Then he got hustled by said teenager for almost twice the usual rate because she had, ‘lots of homework.’ Adam couldn’t complain because he was honestly kinda proud. She’d make a great carny one day. With not much else to do in Jacksonville, he left the hotel to go shopping. Adam had only packed for one night and not for a maybe-date with Kenny. He bought a white button down at a clothing store. Then, stopped by an uptown grocery store to buy 2% milk and local IPAs. Adam spent about three minutes lingering by a display of pre-arranged bouquets at the store, wondering if flowers would be too much. He walked away from the display, walked back, almost walked away again, stopped, and then stared a little longer. His hand fluttered by his side and before he could stop himself, Adam grabbed a bouquet of yellow flowers. Shit, he was an idiot. 

He thought, as the cashier rang him up, that Kenny was going to laugh at him. 

He took a lunch break at a small Mexican hole-in-the-wall because his diet was shot to hell today and he’d just have to admit it. Back at the hotel, he did his second work-out, showered again, and then realized he had three whole hours to kill. Three hours to get dressed, fuss over his hair, sit around, stare at the dumb flowers he bought, and consider if waterboarding would be a more or less effective form of torture. He scrolled Twitter, did some Duolingo. His body was tense, a live wire, his heart pounding. Adam left thirty minutes early and so took a twenty-minute detour, just to kill time. All so he wouldn’t look like a complete, desperate dweeb— showing-up early and with flowers? That would be way too much. 

The house was situated in an upscale, rich and retired, suburb nestled by the ocean. It was smaller, blander than the two, three story beach homes that towered around it, with their sparse lawns and obnoxious, pastel colors. It was a one-story, Spanish-style home with a brown roof and off-white siding. Palm trees and shaped topiary decorated the well-tended front yard. The sun back dropped the city to the West, burning gold. The angles of light painted the thin, sparse clouds pink, purple, and orange creamsicle. Adam parked in the driveway in front of the garage. He stepped out of his car and the wind, tasting of salt, pulled at his hair. Between the neighbor’s fence and the sand dunes, he caught sight of the Atlantic. The waves rolled and churned, edged by white foam-like lace. Adam walked around to the other side of the car. On the floorboards were the milk and beer, and on the passenger seat were the flowers. His hands trembled and his heart thudded against his chest like a hammer. Do or die, he had to commit now— fuck it, life was short and that bouquet was like twenty bucks. He tucked the beers under his arm, picked-up the milk in one hand, and the flowers in the other, 

Adam walked up to the front porch and used his elbow to ring the bell. Before Adam even retracted his hand, the door opened. Kenny stood on the other side of the threshold. His hair was yanked back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. Flour dusted his pink t-shirt across the chest. Adam’s eyes drifted down to khaki shorts and the loafers he wore without any socks. For a brief second, Kenny stared at Adam, also giving him a once-over. Adam hesitated, trying to decide if he should give Kenny the flowers or put something down to offer a handshake— like a dork. He managed neither before Kenny cussed. 

“Son of a bitch, you dressed nice, shit, stay there.” Kenny pointed at Adam to indicate where he should 'stay.' Then, Kenny vanished into the house, leaving the door ajar. Adam gaped, brow furrowed and blinking like an owl. A Gregorian choir in his brain chanted, ‘dork, dork, massive dork!’ 

Kenny hadn’t come back by the time Adam processed his absence. So, he took the first step over the threshold. “Uh, Kenny? I’m coming in?” Adam called, to no reply. 

The inside of the house had a blandly typical beach house vibe. White walls, seashell decor, stock paintings of the ocean, and blue accents. There was a wood sign on the entry hall wall that read: Happiness comes in waves. To his left was the kitchen, a large space, with expansive white countertops and black appliances. There were a few bowls and dishes left out, with signs of being used. The sink was to put it lightly, a wreck, filled with utensils, cutting boards, and knives. Adam put the milk and beer in the fridge. Then noted that the dining room table was set. Each place had a gleaming crimson plate. No forks or knives, just chopsticks. A drinking glass for water. Kenny even had even folded the cloth napkins. All set on a black placemat. Adam wandered on into the rest of the house in search of Kenny. Connected to the dining room was the living room. Tall windows on the East wall allowed an expansive view over the pool, yard, and ocean. The sliding glass back door had been left cracked, to allow the cool and brisk breeze in. Adam pushed his hands into his pockets and soaked in the ocean at sunset. 

Footsteps echoed down the far hall. Kenny passed the living room doorway, on the way to the kitchen. He caught Adam out of the corner of his eye and pulled back, changing direction at the last second. Kenny smiled and spread his arms wide so Adam could admire new outfit. He’d changed into dark jeans, a red v-neck, and a black blazer. Still in the loafers, Adam noted, but that was just part of the Kenny charm. 

“Better, right?” Kenny asked. He did a full turnaround and then jaunted over to Adam. He smoothed the lapel of his blazer down. “I didn’t give you a dress code, so I packed something nice to wear just in case. Didn’t wanna feel awkward in khakis, ya know?”

“Yeah, you look good,” Adam agreed, returning Kenny’s grin. They diverted their gaze to the floor together. Adam, trying to find something to say, exaggerated a  look around the house. “Is this your uh, home?”

“Nope! I rented it on Air BnB,�� Kenny said, proudly. “I’ve never used the app before, but it found this pretty sweet crib, so I’m impressed. A little pricey maybe, but for an evening, just for us? Worth it, I’d say.”

Adam heard Kenny but he couldn’t think of a response. It hit him that the food on the counter, the set table, the entire house, pointed-to one thing. Kenny had planned this. He had to look for a house, find one, pay for it, plan a menu, buy food, bring tableware, find time. He had planned this at personal expense. He had put real thought into setting-up a dinner for him and Adam.  This wasn’t some off-the-cuff idea. The only improvised part about this was inviting Adam himself. And to think, Adam thought Kenny only wanted to Netflix and chill. 

“I, uh, I got you these,” Adam stammered. He held out the flowers to Kenny. “Just, a housewarming, gift, I guess for — for you.”

“Oh, you did, thank you, Cowboy,” Kenny smiled, he took the bouquet from Adam. He hesitated, awkwardly gripping the plastic casing of the flowers. 

“I guess, you can put it in some water?” Adam suggested. He scratched at the back of his head. 

“Yeah, right, good idea,” Kenny nodded, he stepped back from Adam, lingered for a second, and then headed to the kitchen. 

Adam followed Kenny and while Kenny tore through the cabinets in search of a vase, Adam took a second look. Beside the stove were three white bowls with flour, eggs, and panko crumbs. On the burner sat a large, cast-iron pot filled several inches deep with cooking oil. A thermometer rested beside the burner. Kenny exclaimed, “ah-ha,” When he came up with a vase. He filled it with water and settled the flowers in. Brow furrowed he poked a couple daisies upright. Kenny set the vase with the flowers in the middle of the table, as an impromptu centerpiece.

“There, that livens-up the place,” Kenny said, putting his hands on his hips. He smiled at Adam and the ocean, through the windows behind him, framed his face. His eyes bluer than the sea and Adam only just noticed he didn’t have his glasses on. Instead, the glasses were hooked in the pocket of his blazer. Adam was invited here, talking with Kenny, about to have dinner, and his trepidation only grew.

“Is this all for us?” Adam asked, he leaned against the kitchen doorway and shoved his hand in his pocket. With his other he gestured broadly at everything. 

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice?” Kenny admitted, it was his turn to shrug. “Just us, for once. We haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together recently and there's some, some things I wanted to talk to you about. Stuff that's— that's better here maybe than at Daily’s Place. Is it too much?”

Kenny looked bashful, his smile soft, peering at Adam, his hand working over the back of a chair. It was nervous and sweet, open in a way that Adam hadn’t seen in months. Words were hard, but pushing off the doorpost and walking over to Kenny was easier. For a second, Adam’s hands hovered between them, and then he hooked his fingers beneath Kenny’s lapel. Kenny giggled and rested his forehead against Adam’s, his breath tickling Adam’s bottom lip. 

“It’s perfect,” Adam murmured. He untangled from Kenny’s jacket and slid his hands down Kenny’s sides until Adam held his hips. Adam pushed his palms against the jut of Kenny's bone, “What's for dinner, chef Kenny?”

Kenny giggled and gripped at Adam’s hands. “Well, I was thinking,” he glanced back at the kitchen, “I’d make us Tonkatsu, you know, those pork cutlets you get in Japan, with the breading and cabbage? I haven’t had any in a while and it’s one of my favorite dishes. And I ordered sushi, and dessert, from a couple local places—”

“So, you’re cooking?” Adam asked, he quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, what’s so bad about that? I can cook,” Kenny protested. He pulled back from Adam and moved into the kitchen. Adam returned to his position by the doorpost as Kenny rummaged in the fridge. He pulled-out a bag of plastic boxes and then a platter of salted pork. Kenny rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid I’ll burn it? I promise only a little singe, for flavor. I mean it’s Tonkatsu, grade school children can make it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adam laughed, he lifted his hands to placate Kenny. “It’s just, you never hit me as the cooking type. Order in and dine-out always seemed more your style.”

Kenny stuck his tongue out at Adam. He laughed though and turned the stove on to heat the oil. The plastic bag crinkled as Kenny sorted through small platters of elegant sushi and laid each on the counter. “We can eat this while the oil heats. I wish I had a nicer serving tray but I didn’t think to bring one, and this house doesn’t have one— I looked. Oh, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but I got some sake too. It’s in the fridge. Do you like it hot? I’ve never had it, so, I don’t know what’s better.”

“Man, I don’t even know,” Adam said. He never liked the flavor of sake —too dry for his taste— so he’d let the discussion drop and hope that was better than rejecting Kenny’s offer. Adam walked over to help Kenny carry the sushi to the table. “I got you milk, though, two percent. I uh— put it in the fridge.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Kenny smiled.  

While Kenny removed the covers from the sushi, Adam fetched his meager contributions to the meal. He returned with the gallon of milk and an IPA. Adam poured Kenny a tall glass of milk and Kenny poured Adam’s beer. Teeth buried in his bottom lip, like this task was monumental, Kenny dumped the bottle into the glass. By the time the bubbles fizzed down, Adam’s ‘beer’ was mostly air. It was the thought that counted and Kenny looked pleased. Before sitting down himself, Kenny pulled-out Adam’s chair for him. Adam muttered his thanks and sat down. Kenny took his place on the opposite side of the table and used his chopsticks to divvy up the sushi pieces between them. 

“Where’d you get this?” Adam asked. 

“Sushiko, a small place by the river, Cody recommended it,” Kenny said. “It’s a nice little restaurant and we’re by the coast so the seafood is fresh. I mean it’s not really, authentic, but that’s hard to get in America anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be good,” Adam countered. “Do you want the ginger?”

“Nah, you can have it,” Kenny said, to punctuate his point he picked up a heap of the ginger and plopped it onto Adam’s plate. “Do you remember how to use the chopsticks? It hasn’t been that long since you were last in Japan, right?”

“I order take-out once a month to keep my skills sharp,” Adam promised. He picked-up the chopsticks by his plate. Then, took the ends and stuck them beneath his top lip like a walrus, “Goes like this right?”

Kenny laughed, hand lifting to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook with racks of giggles. Adam smiled and wiped off his chopsticks with his napkin. It was the kinda joke he’d crack when he was ten, on the rare occasion his parents took the family out to eat. His sister would find it hilarious, his father and mother less so. Yet, it seemed to amuse Kenny to no end, and all that bashful shyness was gone when the laughter subsided. 

“Yeah, close enough,” Kenny said, waving his hand. “Here you should try the tempura roll, it’s my favorite of all the inaccurate American sushis.”

Kenny picked up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and offered it over the table for Adam to try. Adam didn’t point out that he already had a piece of that type on his plate. He only leaned forward and opened his mouth so Kenny could feed him the sushi. Adam bit down and savored the taste of shrimp, rice, and crunchy breading. 

“It’s good,” he said, nodding and humming his approval.

“Isn’t it?” Kenny asked, he jammed a roll with avocado in his mouth and grinned, pleased. “It’s kinda cliché, but I love this stuff.” 

Adam took a sip from his beer to wash down the rice gummed behind his teeth.

“I’ve always meant to ask,” Kenny said, he pointed with his chopsticks at the beer. “Do you... like that stuff?”

“Beer? Yeah, pretty well, it’s not my favorite drink,” Adam admitted. He ate another piece of sushi and chewed through his thoughts. “It has to be a good beer, the cheap crap isn’t worth the calories. Pleases the hell out of a crowd though.”

“Yeah, don’t you have to drive back?” Kenny’s brow furrowed. 

Adam laughed, “A beer or two isn’t going to send me over, Kenny. It's not like liquor, it's a much lower alcohol content. I probably won't even feel the buzz, especially drinking on food. By the time I leave, I'll be close to zero. I try to keep track of my limits these days, and you know, it’s hard to be no carb and take shots.”

“Trainers got you on no carb?” Kenny asked, with a lifted brow. It was a quick change of topic and Adam appreciated the tact. 

“Yeah, have been for a while now, it’s probably better that way,” Adam shrugged. “You know not all of us shred fat like you.”

“Well, that’s not so easy these days,” Kenny admitted. “Not all of us are as young as you.”

“Hey, a few months and I’ll be thirty,” Adam pointed-out. “Or like, twenty-four by Cody’s metric, something like that.”

“You can’t say that being youngest wasn’t a good shake,” Kenny said. “You never had to pay for anything.”

“Just all the ribbing,” Adam grinned.

Adam popped some ginger in his mouth and waggled his eyebrows for emphasis. Kenny was all grins and the smiles were a relief. This wasn’t a total cluster fuck and Adam hadn’t said something to screw-up the mood. This was going much better than his anxiety allowed him to anticipate. A pause to eat lulled the conversation to a brief silence. Yet, Adam could tell by the way Kenny studied his Philadelphia roll, there was something on his mind. 

“So, uh, last night,” Kenny said, he placed his elbow on the table. “Did you sign a contract with Matt Hardy? Did I interpret that segment correctly? I was preparing for my match so I wasn’t really paying attention, but—”

Adam paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, and then he grinned. “I did.”

“Did you read that contract?” Kenny probed. “Listen, I know you and Hardy go back but I’m not sure you should trust that guy, Page. He’s a bit of a carny— I mean his gimmick is ‘Big Money Matt.’ That has got to be a warning sign. I know Matt and Nick brought him in by burying his vessel or whatever, but he’s changed a lot since the Stadium Stampede. He’s got the whole, I guess split personality thing going on?”

“Oh, I read the contract I signed,” Adam nodded. He savored the taste of a Dragon roll, fishy and popping with acidity. “Hardy didn’t, but I did.”

“Oh, really,” Kenny waxed, he pressed his finger tips to his chin. “Something you wanna fill me in on?”

“Yeah, I switched the contracts,” Adam said. 

Kenny gasped, “You switched the contracts?! Oh, ho, Page, I knew you were smart, brilliant, tell me everything.”

“Well, I knew he was going to invite me to a bar, because he said so on Twitter,” Adam began. “Like, you said, I’ve known Matt for a while and he’s always been a dick. He was talking all about how I’m going to be some great star or the ‘top guy’ in AEW, or whatever, some bullshit, but I kinda figured his plan was to get me drunk and willing to sign something stupid.”

He leaned back in his chair, sipping on his beer and thinking. Adam couldn’t get why every other manager in AEW was salivating at the idea of getting him on their payroll. The Dark Order was trying to recruit him. Taz was talking about him. Matt Hardy seemed to think Adam was the second coming of Jesus. Adam assumed that he was so sought after because the actual best wrestler in AEW was already spoken-for. And Jon Moxley wasn’t the type to tolerate companionship. So, that left Adam Page. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. 

“So, I uh, had a little something prepared for him,” Adam shrugged. “I don’t think he’s figured it out yet, so like, don’t go spreading it around? Snitches get stitches, Kenny, and I mean it.”

“My lips are sealed,” Kenny promised. He pantomimed zipping-up his mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key. He leaned forward, hand bracing against the table. “But really, what was in the contract?’

“You wanna know?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah, I wanna know!” Kenny said. 

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” Adam smirked. “You’ll just have to find-out with Matt Hardy and everyone else. I don’t wanna pop the surprise.”

“Aw, Pizz, you’re killing me, now that’s all I’m going to think about for the rest of the night!” Kenny laughed, he deflated into his chair. Then he bounced back, livened with an idea. “Oh, I know, you made it so you get a third of his merch sales? A half?! Man, that’s brutal. Ooh, I know what you should’ve done, what I would do? Make him your butler for a few weeks, that would be funny.”

Adam chuckled, cheeks flushed with amusement. All he did was shake his head and keep his mouth shut. Kenny gave-up, lifting his hands in a gesture of peace. While they ate, Kenny talked about the Women’s Title Eliminator tournament and all that went into organizing it. He seemed excited to debut the woman’s bracket next week. He promised that he had seen the matches, and they were, “fantastic.” In particular he was ecstatic about Aja Kong and Yuka progressing. Adam had no idea who Maki Itoh was beyond her Twitter, but Kenny was adamant she get a contract at some point. On his part Adam was happy to sit back —long after polishing off his own plate— and listen to Kenny, occasionally interjecting a question or an affirming, “mhm.” Eventually, Kenny got around to eating his last piece of sushi. His eyes darted beyond Adam’s shoulder and pushed himself to his feet to go check on the oil. 

Adam turned in his seat to watch Kenny in the kitchen. He was eyeing a thermometer dipped in the pot. Pleased with the temperature, he moved to start working with the meat. Kenny used a skewer to dip a pork cutlet into the flour, then egg, then back into the flour. Adam cleared the sushi plates from the table. He rinsed them in the sink. He cleaned a few other dishes, cutting boards, and knives, listening to Kenny complain about getting flour on his fingers. Adam put the dishes on the rack and dried his hands on a towel. He wandered to Kenny’s side. Kenny had coated two cutlets in panko crumbs and the breaded meat sat on a plate ready to go. He fiddled with the thermometer, brow furrowed in concentration. He adjusted the temperature on the stove and then gripped the pot handle to center it on the burner. He hissed when his hand touched hot metal. Kenny stuck his finger in his mouth. 

“Hot,” he breathed to Adam. 

“Yeah, no shit, go rinse it under the cold water,” Adam ordered. “Are you okay?”

“Just my pride,” Kenny said, as he ran his finger under the faucet and washed his hands of flour. “I thought I was going to be so cool, making Tonkatsu for you, and you’d be like, ‘wow, look at Kenny be a boss in the kitchen,’ and now I’m just kinda—”

He returned to the stove and looked at the simmering oil with particular trepidation. 

“Now, I’m just kinda nervous,” he admitted, smiling again. “Like, I don’t want to fuck this up and ruin the evening, or something.”

“Do you want help?” Adam asked.

“How heroic,” Kenny pined. “A cowboy come to save me.”

“Yeah, yeah, mostly I just don’t want the food burned,” Adam said, stepping to Kenny’s side. He nudged his hip against Kenny’s and picked-up a skewer. The task was simple, pick-up the two pieces of meat and plunge them into the boiling oil. Yet, when Adam did it, Kenny looked at him like he did something astounding. Adam handed the tongs to Kenny, “you can flip them on your own, right?”

“Pfft, I got that,” Kenny bragged, taking the utensil from Adam. He positioned himself, watching as bubbles formed around the meat. The panko browned to an appetizing gold. As the meat cooked, it exuded juices that caused the oil to spit. Kenny yelped, when some struck his arm, shifting behind Adam. “Unless it fights back?!”

“Aren’t you the guy who fought a G1 with a fractured heel?!” Adam snapped. “Don’t be a baby, it’s just oil, it’s not going to bite you! Get in there.”

Kenny patted Adam’s shoulder and shifted to plunge the tongs into the oil. He flipped both pieces of meat. Although, he held the tongs at the furthest extent to avoid oil splatter. Adam placed his hand on the small of Kenny’s back to hold him steady as they waited the last minute for the meat to finish. It was such a simple gesture but Kenny’s nerves seemed to evaporate under his touch. Kenny fished out the cutlets and placed them diagonally on a draining rack. The cooking done, Kenny kicked Adam out of the kitchen while he finished the rest of the meal. Adam returned to the dining table, sat down, and enjoyed his beer. The soothing melody of Kenny banging around behind him as background noise. 

A few minutes later, Kenny placed a plate in front of Adam. The cutlet had been sliced thin and fanned across the edge of the plate. A generous heap of shredded cabbage piled in the middle garnished with a slice of tomato and lemon. On the side were pickled radishes. The colors popped and the meat smelled delicious. Kenny laid a small container of pouring sauce between them on the table. Kenny sat down with his own plate across from Adam.

“This is so— great, Kenny,” Adam breathed, looking over the food. He picked-up his chopsticks and dove in for the Tonkatsu. It was juicy and savory, with a nice crunch. Adam groaned, “It tastes fantastic.”

“Thanks, I was worried about overcooking it, but with you at my side, it was easy,” Kenny said, he smiled. He poured some sauce on his cutlet. “We make a great team.” 

Adam focused on pinching some cabbage between his chopsticks, eyes casting down to the plate. “Yeah, I— I guess we do.”

“Hey, it was just an observation,” Kenny said, he nudged Adam’s foot under the table with his own. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

“No, no, it’s fine,” Adam said. He took a sip of beer but didn’t taste it. “You’re right, I was just thinking— I’ve tagged with a lot of people lately, and none of them are like you. You really are the best.”

“That’s sweet, cowboy,” Kenny grinned, but Adam sensed the need to change the conversation. Mourning the tag-team wasn’t uplifting for either of them. 

“So, where did you learn to make this?” Adam asked. He gestured at the Tonkatsu. “’Cause it’s really good. Not going to lie, that’s what I miss about Japan— the food. They just don’t have the same, I don’t know, style? Yeah, style, in America.”

“Well, I learned from one of the ladies I stayed with when I first moved to Japan in, 2008, well, kinda learned,” Kenny elaborated. He shrugged, “mostly I just watched her cook and sometimes she let me help. She always did the bits with the oil because she was afraid I’d burn myself. My Japanese wasn’t good back then but I’m pretty sure she thought I was just an idiot.”

“I mean, you can be a bit,” Adam paused. Kenny pressed his lips thin, so he picked his next word carefully, “ditzy?”

“I’ll give you that,” Kenny said. “I wouldn’t trust me around a big pot of boiling oil either. You handled yourself pretty well in there, though.”

“Deep fried is a staple food in the rural south," Adam said. "It's a survival skill, where I'm from. It's okay, Kenny, you can kick my ass Street Fighter, later, so that way we're even."

The conversation slowed so they could finish eating. Just the sounds of chewing and chopsticks clacking. It was good, the cabbage contrasting to the meat, and the sauce adding a hint of sweetness. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfy silence, Adam wasn't looking for an excuse to breach it. It was just them, together, enjoying the mutual company. When Adam finished eating, just to gross out Kenny, he picked up his plate and licked it clean. The gesture had the intended effect of making Kenny screw-up his nose and expression. Adam took his last swig of beer and then carried both their plates to the sink. Adam helped Kenny tidy-up the kitchen. Adam washed the dishes and Kenny dried, putting the plates away on the shelves. They moved around each other like this was something they did every night. Yet, each time Kenny’s elbow jostled Adam or he moved a step closer, a warm heat spread across Adam’s skin. It was dark outside when they finished and Kenny turned on lights in the house to illuminate the rooms. 

“You up for cake, cowboy?” Kenny asked as he returned. He took a box out from the fridge and finagled the lid open. Inside the box was a small, white cake decorated with vanilla icing, raspberries, and fancy swirls. Kenny smacked Adam’s hand away when he tried to taste the frosting. 

"Ow," Adam grunted. He cradled his hand to his chest.

“I didn’t really know what you liked, but everyone likes vanilla, so I figured I couldn't go wrong,” Kenny admitted as he took the cake out of the box. Adam got plates and a knife to cut with. Kenny stuck his tongue out as he sliced into the cake. It was obnoxiously cute. He pointed with the knife, “Is this big enough?”

“That’ll do it,” Adam said.

 Kenny sliced the cake and put a piece on a plate that he handed to Adam, then cut his own piece. The inner filling of the cake was a bright red raspberry and Adam hummed, eager. to try Kenny took a fork and cut off a small piece of his cake slice. He offered the morsel to Adam. Once again, Adam let Kenny feed him. It was sweet, with a delicate crumb, and acidic with the fruit. Kenny opened his mouth, making an ‘ah’ sound, to indicate he wanted Adam to return the gesture. Adam obliged, watching with fascination as Kenny’s lips closed around the fork. A speck of icing trapped at the corner of his mouth. Before he could stop himself, Adam leaned forward and kissed it off— grinning all the way back as Kenny’s cheeks flushed. 

“You remember when we tricked that waitress into giving us free cake?” Kenny asked. His eyes lit-up, to divert his attention though, he glanced down for another bite. “That was— fun.”

“I don’t think we tricked anybody,” Adam laughed. "I think the waitress knew what was up the whole damn time."

“What, we weren’t a convincing couple?” Kenny asked. The question so earnest, his voice so soft, that Adam almost dropped his plate. Deep in Kenny's eyes hid a kernel of curious probing. Like he was testing the waters. Wading-out waist high in a surging tide.

“I— um, I guess we were.” Adam ducked his head, but Kenny shoved at his shoulder and the tension dissipated. 

“I’m just teasing you, Hangers,” he laughed. “Eat your cake, before I do. Hey, I know, why don’t we go sit outside? C’mon.”

Kenny had already split off and so that settled it. Adam got a beer from the fridge and followed Kenny out the back door. At the edge of the pool was a small sitting area with chairs and a couch. The ocean crashed against the shore, loud and echoing in Adam's inner-ear. He felt the tide wearing away the sand in his teeth. Kenny sat down on the couch, tossing his phone on the coffee table. He crossed his legs up and finished off his cake. Adam joined him on the other side of the couch. They remarked on the flavors of the cake and speculated if the icing was cream cheese or not. Finished eating, Kenny put his plate down and lounged back against the cushions. 

Adam studied Kenny’s profile. His straight nose and angular jaw, the untamed stubble on his cheeks. His lips pink with red raspberries. In red and black, he looked marvelous. The wind tussling his curls. And his eyes, so scarce these days, holding every emotion Adam hoped to see reflected in them. Adam’s heart collided with the inside of his ribs. He took his last bite of cake and put aside the dishes. Then, for courage, he swigged on his beer and set that aside too. He leaned into the cushions, adjusting a pillow underneath his right elbow. 

“Hey,” he said, voice coarse and weak, the word lost to the ocean. Kenny looked at him, hearing him anyway, and Adam opened his arms wide, “What are you doing over there? Get your ass over here.”

Kenny slid over until he leaned against Adam’s side. Adam swung his legs up onto the couch and pulled Kenny against his chest. Kenny settled between his legs and Adam draped his arm over Kenny’s back. Something dislodged in Adam’s lungs and he breathed easy for the first time in months. Kenny sighed and pressed his cheek to Adam’s collarbone. His hand ran over Adam’s bicep. Adam reached over Kenny, picked-up his beer, and took another casual swig. Part of him regretted the alcohol because now his breath must smell like beer and cake. The other part of him needed it to function in this moment. 

Adam drew broad circles between Kenny’s shoulder blades, feeling each hard muscle, defined and strong beneath his hand. Kenny was warm in contrast to the cool night, like a little personal heater. Adam chuckled, content as he leaned back against the arm rest. Kenny turned his face into Adam’s chest and buried his nose into Adam’s shirt. He shuddered in Adam’s arms, a full body tremble working all the way down his spine. Adam lifted his hand to work his fingers through Kenny’s hair and curls. A little coarser now since he dyed it, black and silver. Adam didn’t know what else to say or think, or do. Didn’t know if this was Kenny using him for comfort or something more. If he was supposed to read between the lines, look for the fine text, or just be a quiet and good pillow. Maybe, he'd just pretend that the way Kenny clung to him was because of love. 

“I like your hair like this,” Adam mused. He ran his fingers through Kenny’s scalp. It was an easier question than: why did you bring me here? What do you want from me? What are we? 

“Thanks,” Kenny muttered. He turned his cheek to press against Adam’s chest. Adam considered that an improvement. 

“Are you okay?” He managed. 

Kenny sighed, shoulders heaving. He wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist and cinched in, holding him close. It was the total experience of being owned. That Adam was Kenny’s to have and hold onto. It was possessive in a way that thrilled Adam. That there were seven billion people on this planet and he was the one Kenny Omega invited to a rented house for dinner. Adam was the one who got to hold Kenny Omega, not anyone else. Adam was the one Kenny Omega wanted to be held by. It had to mean something. He wanted it to mean something. Please, let it mean something. 

“It’s just,” Kenny whispered. His voice soft, but Adam carded his fingers through Kenny’s hair to encourage each word forth. “Sometimes, I realize one day I could die. I could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. There’s be no one to miss me and that— that terrifies me more than death itself.”

Then, Kenny laughed, shaking his head, giggling like he said something funny. Not something that Adam had no idea how to react to. Every word of it raised a protest inside Adam though. That he cared, that he would notice, that he would be devastated to lose Kenny. That he lost Kenny once and he had no intentions of ever doing it again. Except, Adam had no idea how to say all that in a way that made sense. When he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out but a huff of carbon dioxide. Kenny tensed, feeling Adam’s diaphragm tighten. It was as if Adam’s anxiety infused and intertwined with Kenny's, into something ugly between them. Adam could just hold Kenny tighter and that would make Kenny understand. Hold so tight to Kenny that he couldn’t leave, couldn’t go anywhere, and they’d just fit together, and it’d work. 

Except, Adam was no longer so young and stupid as to believe that would work. It wasn’t enough to ask Kenny, ‘do you trust me,’ when he already breached that trust. Adam couldn’t hold on alone, they had to meet in the middle. These things had to be mutual. This was a two street and Adam had no idea if Kenny was walking towards him or away. He was just a blur in the distance that he was chasing like hell. As if, when he caught Kenny, he’d get the answers to the questions he was too afraid to ask. 

Kenny shifted, pushing back against Adam and the awkward silence between them. The silence Adam let linger too long. He wondered if just screaming would work better than this. Kenny sat-up, and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. He clung to one of Adam’s hands like it was a life raft in the middle of that ocean out there. They sat thigh-to-thigh, hip-to-hip. Maybe, that’s how Adam felt, like Kenny was drowning and all he could do was yell advice from the shoreline. 

“Look,” Kenny began, he licked his lips. He stared at where their knees touched. Adam could feel Kenny's pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. “There’s something I gotta tell you.”

Kenny giggled again, shoulders shaking and Adam had no idea what the joke was. He placed his other, free hand on Kenny’s shoulder. 

“I set all of this up to tell you, but I— I don’t know what to say,” He admitted. He shook his head and squeezed Adam’s hand. 

“Whatever, whatever you feel, man,” Adam offered, lamely. “You know I’m here for you.”

“Look—” Kenny began.

He looked-up, gunmetal blue eyes matching Adam’s gaze. The warm glow from the house burned his cheeks gold and he shivered. Kenny was scared, the thought hit Adam like a gunshot. Terrified, looking at Adam, like Adam was going to hurt him. Like a whipped dog anticipating being taken out back.  

“Adam, I—”  he began, then a sharp chime cut him off.

Both Kenny and Adam looked down at Kenny’s phone on the coffee table. Don Callis, calling Kenny, the phone vibrating against the glass. Kenny withdrew his hand, untangling from Adam, scooting away. Like, he'd been burned and scalded, like he just put his hand back on that pot handle and this time gripped tight. “I’m not— I’m not going to answer it. I— I told him I’d be busy,” Kenny stammered, his hands working through his hair. There was a bite to his tone that set Adam’s heart on fire. “I don’t know why he’s calling me he should know.”

As Kenny’s pitch hitched and his voice cracked, Adam lunged forward to hit the decline button on the phone. The phone stopped ringing and Kenny sighed, his face stricken pale. Adam himself breathed for the first time in almost a minute, slowly leaning back into the couch. His hands rested on his knees. The ocean crashed and receded. 

“He can leave a damn voice mail,” Adam managed, cracking a half-grin but when he looked at Kenny it was not returned. Instead, Adam met wild eyes and a pale face, white with fear. In a few seconds it calmed, the war raging in Kenny dying down as he glanced away from Adam. As Adam watched Kenny pulled the glasses-free from his front pocket and shoved them on his face. He licked his lips, jaw working tight. “Kenny, is everything okay?”

“Fine, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Kenny repeated, his hands rubbed over his thighs. “I’m not— I’m not going to keep you, you can go. It was— It was fun tonight, thanks.”

Kenny lifted and waved his hand as if to dismiss Adam. Adam’s felt his temper go through the roof, just a moment of complete rage that calmed immediately. There were no words, just screaming like if he opened his mouth, a long drawn howl would escape instead of anything coherent. And that was the best he could do to express the emotions in his head. His teeth gritted and Adam rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to clear out the thoughts from his head. 

“No, wait, Kenny what did you want to tell me?” Adam asked. “What were you trying to say before Don called?”

“All, I wanted to do was just tell you that— that,” Kenny stuttered, and Adam had no faith that what came out of his mouth next was the truth. “That you can always talk to me if you need it. That, that I’m here for you, Page, and like, that you don’t need to go signing stupid contracts with Matt Hardy, but you didn’t so, it’s really not a problem. You— you didn’t need me.”

“Is that it?” Adam asked, he glanced around the house. Thought of the sushi and the home-cooked meal. Of cake and Kenny dressing nice just for Adam. “You did all this, just to tell me that? Are you sure that’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“What do you think?” Kenny asked, he peered at Adam. The glasses and his expression were like a brick wall. Impassive, unreadable, and drawing Adam to a total stop. Adam’s stomach twisted, lips parted in unvoiced confusion. Adam couldn’t answer the question because he was afraid of what Kenny thought. Kenny didn't love him, Kenny didn't care, Kenny was using him.

 “Seriously, Page, I’m fine— you can leave if you want,” Kenny repeated. “It was fun tonight.”

“No, no, no, Kenny,” Adam interjected. “No, I’m not just leaving, I’m not going anywhere until I get some damn answers about what the hell is going on. I’ve been out of my mind for months trying to figure us— this, out.  It ain’t even just about what you did to Moxley or any of the other crap. I was with you in Japan, I know how you are. Excalibur may be scandalized but I was there when you won the Intercontinental title off Tanahashi. I know how it goes. What gets me, is that you hadn’t done that shit since Japan. Ever since Don Callis came back you’ve been acting weird and I think by this point I deserve some damn answers.”

“Okay, fine, fine, what do you want to know?” Kenny demanded. He crossed his arms over his stomach. “I am an open book.”

“It’s just, I don’t know—” Adam stumbled over his words, the real questions getting in the way of the ones he could actually ask. What are we? So, instead, he stumbled-on, “Are you sure you can trust Don?”

“Of course, I can,” Kenny scoffed. “We’re changing the business Adam, changing the world, history! All those solid steel doors, those arbitrary barriers in our sport? They’re gone now! Impact, New Japan, NWA, Stardom, they’re all clamoring to get a spot on our show. We are the hottest thing in wrestling, not WWE, us. Tony Khan, the Bucks, and Cody, the whole locker room, they should be thanking us, we’re giving them jobs, improving their pay checks, and what do we get?! Just like you said, Excalibur on commentary with a bad attitude. No one else shares my vision, no one else gets it, not like Don does.”

Kenny shook his head, curls flopping around. He spoke fast, quickly, trying to get to the next words as soon as possible. 

“I thought that was all bullshit,” Adam admitted. “Just shit Don was making-up to justify taking the title.”

“Page, please!” Kenny said, his hand fluttering in Adam’s direction. “We’ve been planning something like this for years. This isn’t a mere money-making scheme, Don isn’t like Matt Hardy. And yeah, maybe that means I can’t be around Matt and Nick as much anymore, maybe the locker room hates me, maybe I’m not as popular with the audience— big deal. They’ll come around, they always come around, they’ll realize how much I’ve done for them. People change, this is— this is bigger than any one person.”

“Oh, Don isn’t like Matt Hardy?” Adam asked, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Kenny pushed to his feet and Adam stood too. Kenny’s hands fluttered around and something flexed in his jaw like he was chewing on sand. His voice was darker, biting with anger as he shook his finger at Adam. “Don’t even start with me, Page, about who to trust. We both know your track record.”

“Matt Hardy doesn’t give a shit about me,” Adam stated. Kenny stepped-in like it was a warning, but Adam squared his shoulders and with a look wilted Kenny. Adam took sick satisfaction in the inch or two of height he had. To lift his chin, and stand his ground. “And Don Callis doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“Don is like family to me,” Kenny snapped, his finger jutted into Adam’s face, his voice lifting in pitch and volume. Adam couldn’t remember if they ever got to this point with each other, yelling. No, he remembered some shoves in the ring. “He cares about me. I know he does. I’ve known him since I was a child, Page. It’s not the same thing.”

Adam worked his teeth into his bottom lips. He placed his hand on his hips and glanced towards the ocean. Black and churning, the waves thrown in turmoil, rolling, clawing-up the beach to high tide. Adam let himself feel the wind in his hair and his pounding heart. He glanced back at Kenny. 

Back in the day, Biz Cliz days, the Bullet Club, and the Elite was Kenny’s family. They were the ones who looked after him after matches. They were the ones who fetched ice or hot packs for his injuries. They were the ones at ringside. The ones in his tag-teams. The ones who helped him pick-out clothes or get in his ring gear. Adam thought they were family and he had fought like hell for that family. Scrabbled to keep the little niche of home he’d found, that place he belonged. He spared a thought, that something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. So wrong, that Kenny, went to someone else instead of his family. FTR, the Dark Order, Matt Hardy, the Good Brothers, Don, all these side distractions instead of the stable that cared about them. Egos blew-up, friendships faded, but it took more than a couple of arguments to break the Elite. There was a looming specter, sticking his fingers in the crack. Adam may’ve left the Elite but he always thought there’d be something to go back to. He never thought his absence would unravel his friends— never dreamed it. 

He didn’t even think they’d notice he was gone. 

“Does your family usually hit you with a microphone?” Adam asked. 

Kenny’s lips parted, his jaw falling slack. His shoulders drooped and then he rubbed his hand beneath the rims of his glasses. He crossed his arms, gaze turning downwards. Adam’s hands fell to his sides, feeling that the fight was over. Kenny shook his head as if to physically dislodge Adam’s words from his skull. Kenny was a fighter, he was a leader, he was a crazy visionary, who did his own thing. He always had an argument in him. He always kicked-out. He fought sixty minute matches against Okada. The way he capitulated in defeat here and now was fascinating because it was so against him. It was like Adam pushed back and found nothing but dust. That he had glanced back over his shoulder and suddenly Kenny had turned to salt. A pillar of salt, crumbling in Adam’s hands. A divine and cruel trick, stealing from him what he most desired, at the last possible second. 

Adam sighed, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Then, Kenny lurched forward and pressed his forehead into Adam’s shoulder. Adam closed his eyes and reached-up to tangle his fingers back in Kenny’s hair. He worked out a knot and then smoothed his palm down Kenny’s back. Kenny trembled against him, fingers twisted in Adam’s shirt. It was a desperate grip, like this attention and concern was foreign to Kenny. Like he was starved and Adam supposed that made sense because this didn’t feel like something Don Callis would do. Because Don Callis didn't care about Kenny. He wouldn't take care of Kenny, not like his friends would— like they were supposed to. They had failed Kenny and so he went to someone else. (They had failed Adam and so he had went to someone else). Adam hummed, low in his throat, and buried his nose in Kenny’s hair. He smelled of cologne and sea salt, and everything Adam missed. 

“Forget about Don,” Adam said. “I— I shouldn’t’ve said that, it’s none of my damn business.”

“I just don’t want to fight with you,” Kenny admitted. “I don’t— I don’t deserve you, Page.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” Adam shook his head. “Because if you were gone, you know I’d miss you, right? I ain’t got that many friends left, Kenny. You’re special to me.”

“Charmer,” Kenny grunted. 

“Can’t coast on just my good looks, you know,” Adam chuckled. He wrapped both his arms around Kenny and drew him tighter. Knowing that he was being used. Knowing that they were no closer now than they were before. “Gotta have some personality.”

“Hmm, but you are good-looking,” Kenny agreed. His hands smoothed down Adam’s side, unabashed in feeling the muscles and curves of his waist. “You’re very handsome, cowboy.”

Adam chuckled as Kenny wrapped his arms around him. It felt good to be needed. Good to be wanted and held. To be possessed by someone. Adam wanted Kenny to own him. But, he wasn’t sure if it was real or if Adam was just here, and hot, and it worked. 

“I can stay,” Adam murmured. “Just one night, you and me, like— like in the hotel.” 

“You— you want to?” Kenny asked. He pulled from Adam to look at him, or rather let Adam look at his glasses. “I have an extra toothbrush.”

“Good, because all my shit is at the hotel,” Adam said, flashing a grin. 

Adam tapped Kenny on the back to urge him back inside. Adam carried in the plates and his mostly undrunk beer. At the kitchen sink, he chugged a few big gulps and poured the rest of the alcohol down the drain. Adam rinsed and cleaned the dishes, while Kenny finished tidying-up behind him. The domesticity was intoxicating, giving Adam more of a buzz than the beer. It was deceptive too. For a second, Adam could pretend they did this little ritual every night. Clean-up after dinner, put-away all the dishes, and then, turn off the kitchen lights, head for bed. As Adam followed Kenny down the hall to the master bedroom, he rubbed the sweat off his palms and onto his pants legs. 

The master bedroom had a large bed, a couch, desk and chair, and a TV on a stand. A sliding door connected to the back patio outside. Airy, light blue curtain hung over the windows and glass. The walls were painted white and the bedding was blue. The typical beach decor was as bland as the rest of the house. Kenny rummaged around in a suitcase, left on a couch with a few stray articles of clothes on the cushions. He procured a set of soft fabric shorts and tossed them to Adam. 

“I don’t sleep in pajamas like you do, Pizz,” Kenny said. His early energy was gone and he said all of it like it was a statement of fact. Adam didn't doubt Kenny's ability to put on a show though. Even if he felt like shit he'd find a way to hide it. “So, you’ll just have to do with my work-out clothes. I washed them, I promise.”

“Are you going to sleep in your X-men undies again?” Adam teased. Kenny found a toothbrush but instead of handing it to Adam, he chucked it at Adam’s head. Adam caught the flung toothbrush with a clap of his hands. “Hey, I like Wolverine!”

“No, for the record I wore briefs this time,” Kenny said. He shrugged off his blazer and smiled softly, almost regretfully. “I came prepared.”

Adam stepped around the edge of the room, watching as Kenny peeled off his shirt. He’d seen Kenny shirtless a thousand times. He could map each expanse and stretch of muscle, the powerful curve of his back, his thick arms, and broad shoulders. This time felt special, significant, especially when Kenny glanced over his shoulder at Adam and caught him watching. Adam ducked his head and escaped into the bathroom. 

Once the door was closed behind him, he stared at himself in the mirror. Adam splashed cold water on his face and then brushed his teeth. He changed into Kenny’s shorts, used the toilet, and left, wiping his hands on the hand towel. Kenny had changed into a pair of sweat pants and he was yanking the curtains closed over the window. Adam walked-up behind him, hooked an arm around Kenny’s waist and pulling him back to his chest. 

“I’ll wait for you in bed,” Adam murmured, dipping his head to speak in Kenny’s ear. “Don’t take too long, I’m tired.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kenny chuckled. “You know, I like it when you boss me around.”

“Make sure you wash behind your ears,” Adam ordered, severely. 

Adam tapped Kenny’s hip and sent him off towards the bathroom. He turned off the bedroom lights and the nightstand lamp then slid underneath the covers of the bed. It felt like this would be easier if he didn’t have to look at Kenny. Then they wouldn’t have to face anything, just be with each other. The bed was softer than Adam was used to and he fought the mattress to roll over on his side, punching at the pillow to get it shaped right. The ocean rumbled and Adam sighed, exhaling with the tide. He heard the bathroom door open and the latch close behind Kenny. He heard each pad of Kenny’s footsteps on the carpet before the mattress dipped and Kenny slid into bed. Adam rolled over, reaching for Kenny and guiding him closer. Kenny shimmied over and Adam tucked his arm over Kenny’s side, his hand resting over Kenny’s stomach. He pressed his nose into Kenny’s neck and Kenny hooked his calf around Adam’s leg to bring them flush. Every inch of Kenny’s body pressed against Adam. Kenny laid his hand over Adam’s and intertwined their fingers. Kenny rumbled, content, then slid his foot down to put his ice cold toes on Adam’s ankle. Adam jerked, cussing, and Kenny giggled. 

Adam’s eyes fluttered closed. Kenny’s breath as gentle as the ocean. He’d been dreaming about this for months, having Kenny back here. The memory of the hotel room a poor substitute for having him under Adam’s arm. Warm, heavy, his pulse tangled with Adam’s. Adam wiggled his arm underneath Kenny and clutched him tighter. He nuzzled his nose into Kenny’s neck. Here he could say anything. Anything at all, whisper it and pretend Kenny was sleeping, and Kenny could pretend he was sleeping if he didn’t want to hear it. And it’d be like a confession, words lost to empty air, absolution offered to wash them clean. Adam opened his mouth and nothing came out. Instead his lips moved and he mouthed, “I love you.” Without uttering a single sound. Then again, “I love you.” 

“Adam,” Kenny grunted, and Adam almost panicked, wondering for a second if he had actually said those things out loud. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Adam asked, sleep dragged at his mind, making him a little dumb. 

“Staying,” Kenny said. “I know I— I freak-out on you there.”

“It's fine,” Adam whispered. “It happens. Wanna hear a crazy idea I have?”

Kenny shifted, wiggling in Adam’s arms to turn over. Adam grunted when Kenny dug his elbow into his ribs so he could leverage himself onto his opposite side. Kenny buried his face in Adam’s chest and Adam wondered if that was just how he preferred to sleep. Adam rolled onto his back and dragged Kenny with him. He let his fingers play with the ends of Kenny’s hair as the other hand interlaced with Kenny’s on his stomach. Kenny settled himself and Adam licked his lips, just stupid enough to share this crazy idea. 

“Hit me, cowboy,” Kenny ordered. 

“We leave in the morning,” Adam suggested. “I don’t know where to, maybe nowhere specific, but it’s just the two of us. Sleeping in motels, eating shit at dinners, and working the indies— making like fifty bucks a show, so there’s never enough money but we make it work. Maybe we’re a tag-team again or it’s just us in singles. We dominate the competition, earn those dumb little regional belts we used to own. No more stakes, no more crap, just— wrestling, fun as it used to be.”

“We’d be recognized,” Kenny muttered, and Adam remembered the goofy BTE bits he used to shoot down for Kenny. Poking holes in the logic or saying the joke wasn’t funny. All because he was afraid of committing to an idea. Turn about was fair play he guessed. “We could— we could wear masks.”

“You ever wrestle in a mask?” Adam asked. 

“No,” Kenny admitted.

“Sucks,” Adam grunted, “And the moment you did a One-Winged Angel, everyone would know who you are. It’d just be El Generico all over again.”

“We should go horse riding,” Kenny suggested, he yawned. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Next time you’re in Virginia,” Adam promised. “I’ll take you.”

“Mhmm, maybe that should be sooner, rather than later,” Kenny smiled. He settled then and Adam shut-up so he could sleep. In a few moments Kenny breathed easily, and steadily, his eyes closed. Adam twirled a black curl around his finger, absent-minded. 

“I love you,” he said, to the empty room. An observation, a statement of fact, Adam kissed the top of Kenny’s head. This time, he whispered into those curls, “I love you.” 

And then he adjusted himself so he was comfortable in the pillows. Adam sagged, the tension bleeding out of his stiff frame like water. Kenny mumbled softly in his sleep and Adam tucked him close to his side. Thoughts twisted-up in his head, Adam drifted unconscious. Then, when his eyes opened, the room was bright, light spilling in through the thin curtain. The sea raged and the gulls cried. His arm was dead weight, asleep. Adam blinked, lifting his head. In the night, he and Kenny had shifted. Kenny’s head laid on his bicep as he slept. His hand rested on Adam’s chest, fingers crooked. Needing blood flow back in his fingers, Adam slipped his arm out from under Kenny’s head. He sat-up in the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. Adam opened and closed his hand, fingertips tingling painfully. He looked down at Kenny. 

His hair was in total disarray, tangled on the pillows. A little bit of drool welled at the corner of his parted lips and he breathed rough, long, slow. Without Adam, he turned onto his side. Adam slid out of the bed. He found his jeans and changed back into his clothes. Adam stepped into his boots and returned to the kitchen. He rummaged in the fridge, the options were meager. Eggs, ketchup, cheese, milk, and luckily, a pack of bacon— probably stuff Kenny bought specifically for breakfast, based on the large container of protein powder beside the fridge. He poked through the cabinets and found the flour from last night, but also sugar, baking powder, cheap imitation vanilla, and salt. 

Adam was methodical as he cracked eggs to scramble and for pancakes. He whipped-up the batter in a bowl and found the frying pans in a lower drawer. The back burner slow-cooked bacon with a tantalizing sizzle and on a front burner, Adam cooked the pancakes. Making just enough for him and Kenny. He cleaned-up as he went, leaving dishes on the drying rack. He did the eggs last, scrambling them with cheese and pepper, when he heard the water run, indicating Kenny was up and using the bathroom. A few minutes later Kenny wandered into the kitchen, rubbing the heel of his hands over his eyes. He paused in the doorway, gaping as Adam assembled two plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Mornin’,” Adam grunted, as he took a knife and fork out of the drawer. He walked over to the table and sat down. 

“You made breakfast? I should invite you over more, geez,” Kenny said. He sat down with his plate. “Did you sleep, okay?”

“Not too bad,” Adam said. He watched as Kenny took a bite of eggs and grinned as Kenny moaned almost obscenely. “Was pretty nice sleeping next to you.”

“Well, cowboy, you can do that anytime you want,” Kenny promised. He tapped his fingers against the table. “So, I guess you’re heading out then?”

“Yeah, I gotta,” Adam said. “I got a seven-hour drive, training and working-out to get on, and like, I’m bleeding money paying my neighbor’s daughter to watch my dogs. But uh, this, thing, last night, it was fun? We should do it again.”

“Including the cuddling?” Kenny asked, propping his chin against his hand. He picked-up a piece of bacon between his fingers and cheekily tore a piece off. “I couldn’t agree more. Especially, if you’re going to cook like this.”

“Definitely the cuddling, you’re a pretty good hand warmer,” Adam nodded. He scrapped the last of the eggs onto his fork and polished it off with some pancake. He stood-up and took his plate to the sink while Kenny finished eating. 

Kenny followed Adam out as he returned to his car. They hugged and Adam settled into the driver seat. He recalled the inane story he spun last night, where they go back to the indies and pretended the past year didn’t happen. It wasn’t fleeting because it was impossible. It was simply too late. As Adam turned the ignition he wondered if he could convince Kenny to come back with him to North Carolina instead. Just hide there until the next Dynamite or something. Steal a little bit more time. He put the car in the reverse and let the thought die under the rear wheels. 

[duker42]

NSFW Alphabet for Mike 🥰 please!

NSFW Alphabet for Mike Zacharias:

A-Aftercare: Despite his giant build and his role as the Second Strongest Soldier, Mike is a complete teddy bear when it comes to aftercare. He is the type to smother his lover in kisses as he cleans them up. Then prepare to be held for as long as you want, because this man lives to snuggle with you!

B-Body Part: Mike as a boob man. Doesn’t mean they have to be particularly big, he just loves to cup your breasts in his large hands. He also loves to feel your perky nipples pressed against his chest while you are having sex or you are just laying against him. Expect those bad boys to be swollen and a bit sore when he gets done loving them with his mouth.

C-Cum: Mike has a dirty little secret, he loves cum. Your cum, his cum, doesn’t matter to him. Your cum he loves all over his face and in his gotee as he licks you over and over until you are begging for mercy. His cum he gets a rush out of seeing painted on your body or oozing out of your satisfied pussy.

D-Dirty Talk: He is normally a quiet man, but his dirty talk game is pretty awesome. That rarely used deep voice is perfect. “Have I told you how sexy you look bouncing on my cock?” “Fuck, Y/N your pussy’s so good I’m about to blow, you’re so good at squeezing the cum out of me.” That sexy tone is guaranteed to push you into your own orgasm.

E-Experiment: Mike is all for some experimentation. He had several ideas of things that he wants to experience with you. He’s a man secure enough in his manhood to be willing to push his own boundaries to try what you want at least once. If it’s not for him he will let you know. It’s all about that give and take for him. How can he expect you to try those things that make him hard if he’s not willing to do the same for you?

F-Favorite Position: This man loves for you to ride his cock. Not only does he get a fantastic view, he’s not unaware of the large size difference between the two of you. It’s a way he doesnt’ have to worry about hurting you by accident. Another favorite is to hold you up in his arms and push you against a wall. Something about having you unable to move much in his arms as you moan out his name does it for him.

G-Goofy: Surprise! Mike can be a bit of a goofball with you. He’s not opposed to teasing you and cracking jokes. He keeps it more on the fun loving side rather than insulting. For him, sex is a stress relief and he enjoys when you both are laughing before you start having sex. Given the stressful nature of your jobs as Scouts, of course he wanted to be a light hearted with you as possible.

H-Hair: Our golden giant has a nice dusting of hair across his broad chest. Not enough to claim he’s wearing a fur coat, but enought for you to know that your stud is all man. His pubic hair is lighter than his chest hair naturally, not having much growing in to trim. You’ve made fun of him for before and he retaliated by hiding your razor for a week and calling you Sasquatch.

I-Intimacy: Yes he can be all fun and games at time, but for Mike, he expresses every emotion in his hands on your body. When it’s the night before an expedition, the grins fall away and he sets out to make sure you know that his heart is firmly in your hands as he revertly strokes your skin. Expect him to put that nose to use as he drinks in your scent, etching it into his brain as those green eyes close and he sighs against you.

J-Jack Off: He loves to fuck you, but that isn’t always and option and you know that. He will take care of himself in the privacy of your bedroom. Laying back on your bed, he will firmly grasp his cock in his fist and work himself up to and orgasm with hard, fast strokes. His eyes are closed as he brings your scent to mind and it’s like you’re right there with him. His body jerks as his cum jettisons out onto his stomach and he sighs, relieved that he had his release.

K-Kink: Lowkey Daddy Alert! He would never ask you to call him Daddy but if you do, expect that man’s hips to start moving faster as the sound propels him to fuck you harder. He obviously has a Olfactophilia Kink, loving the scent of you any way he can get it. You pretend not to notice that he has swiped a pair of your panties from the laundry. High key LOVES to watch you masturbate in front of him. He will lock the door to his office and put you on his desk to get a front row view of your fingers dipping into your dripping pussy.

L-Location: He will fuck you anywhere he can get you alone for more than five minutes. Once, when he was feeling particularly evil, he took you into the Captain’s office and bent you over his desk. For weeks after, anytime he had to go talk to Levi there was a stupid grin on his face.

M-Motivation: It really doesn’t take much to get Mike in the mood. If you wear any of the expensive panties that he has bought you and wear it under your uniform, he will spot the outline against your trousers. He’ll be raring to go. But he loves when you come up to him and run your hands across his chest and pull at him to lean down and gives him a sloppy kiss. It will normally end with him throwing you over his shoulder to find the nearest secluded spot.

N-No: He’s not going to hit you, even if you want it. (Punching, kicking, slapping) Mike knows his strength too well to even play at something like that. Plus he doesn’t want to hurt you, he loves you. He’s also unwilling to choke you during sex. As an officer, he has seen too many accidental deaths he’s had to write the report on for autoerotic asphyxiation. NOT HAPPENING

O-Oral: This man could go down on you for hours an be happy. He honestly believes that his best death would be to kick the bucket with his face between your legs, except for the fact that it would traumatize the shit out of you. But this doesn’t mean he doesn’t fucking love the sight of you on your knees in front of his chair with your lips wrapped around his dick. He fucking loves when you wake him up with a blow job, he will just have the best day no matter what happens.

P-Pace: He’s a giant of a man and stronger than an ox. In the bed of course he’s like a damn train barreling down the tracks. He starts off slow, giving you time to accommodate his girth, but when he’s freely sliding into you, expect that man’s cock to turn into a jackhammer, pounding away at your cervix. When he’s in that mood to really fuck you until you see stars, you’ve woken up everyone in your wing of the castle from your screams. It was really embarrassing that time Erwin burst in, thinking there was something wrong.

Q-Quickie: Sex is sex. He knows that not every time is going to be a nightlong multiple orgasm love-making session. Sometimes that quick fuck in the woods when your supposed to be training is the best thing for your relationship. It keeps the spark alive and your body throbbing for the next encounter you may have.

R-Risk: Sex in public is always a thrill, but as an officer, he does keep it to areas you are less likely to be seen. But if there’s a reasonable chance he can get you both off before someone comes by, expect your pants to be pulled down in a heartbeat. Risky sex is alright at long as it’s not choking you or punching you. Again, thats not happening, but he will set up safewords when you want to take a walk on the wild side.

S-Stamina: He’s another one of those men that can outlast his woman to the point where she’s wondering if he’s ever going to cum. When you two have the time, he’s going to be moving inside you for at least an hour. He can speed it up for you by leaning down and drinking in your scent. If you weren’t quite done with him, it’s going to be awhile. At least half an hour, but he will make sure that you are kept entertained by his tongue and fingers in the meantime.

T-Toys: Mike is wary of toys until he learns what all you can do with them. Then it’s like a little kid being given free reign in a candy store. He will buy everything that looks interesting. It will just be another thing that can aid in making sure that you are completely satisfied in his bed.

U-Unfair: He doesn’t really like to tease you too much sexually. He would rather give you multiple orgasms than try to deny you. Mike wants you anticipating your next encounter, not wondering if he’s going to edge you for hours without relief.

V-Volume: There’s something about these Scouts that just makes them more quiet in bed than most. He will grunt softly in your ear during a particularly pleasing move or thrust. When he cums, its going to a a low calling of your name as he releases. You’ve only been able to make him shout a few times and it’s a personal goal of yours every time your together.

W-Wild Card: Mike is pretty possessive. It’s a good thing that not too many people would fuck with his woman, because it wouldn’t end well for them. He is definitely one to go pull you out of someone’s range and give you a quick but thorough fuck in a closet.

X-X-Ray: Again, he’s a giant. Of course his cock is going to be the same. He is almost pushing 11 inches of thick, girthy deliciousness. His tip is like the edge of a sword, much smaller, allowing him to work his way in without causing you too much pain.

Y-Yearning: If there wasn’t the issue of serving humanity and fighting the Titan’s, Mike would probably try to spend all of his time in bed with you. As much as possible and still support you, of course. He loves the feeling of your skin against his, your calming presence around him and craves it as much as possible.

Z-Zzzz: Mike sleeps pretty well, as well as any Scout can. But after an intense few hours of making love to you, he’s ready to slip off into dreamland. He will cuddle for as long as you want, but most of the times as you lay there in his arms, his eyes will close and you’ll start to hear his soft snores. It’s always so peaceful and you find yourself drifting off too.

Mobile MasterList

[typinggently]

your writing is.... *chefs kiss* seriously, it's so fun to read!! and that spicy bit of aquabat you included in that dress post.,,,, stunning. absolutely gorgeous. it's such a rare ship and I almost never see any content here, so thank you for that delicious content. do you have any more hot aquabat takes?

love…firstly…thank you so much!! 💚💚✨ I’m glad you enjoy my writing! :’)

secondly: this is going to be a mess. I was going to wait a little longer and make this a nicely curated post but I keep seeing that “no, no, no by any means, speak your mind you got a problem with my boy?” gif and like. Arms. And stuff. You know?

-

Which brings us to the next point: I once again have to confess that I didn’t watch Aquaman. Or Justice League. I honestly am considering it though just because of the visuals. 

That aside - let’s move on. I have two main interpretations of Bruce’s character, on one hand Feral Bruce & Thotty Bruce. The main difference (I wrote a huge think piece on that but we’re melting it down to it’s bare essentials) is that Feral Bruce has that whole dadaist ballet element to him, a general eccentricity and skittishness around people. Thotty Bruce is much closer to the general interpretation of BW, except. You know. Brucie isn’t that much of a cover.

I have a lot to say about Feral Bruce and Arthur, mostly just general stuff because I like the idea so much, but for now I’m mostly thinking about

thicc thot getting jackhammered by buff (half)Atlantean 

Generally speaking, I think Arthur just has so much fun in bed. He’s all laughter and good-natured teasing while his partners are already incoherent messes. He’ll be like “yeah, let me just get down there real quick” and proceed to play with his cock/ass for the next hour and a half. And he’ll straighten eventually, hair messy from Bruce tugging at it, and expect Bruce to give an actual answer when he asks him something. (”Hey, you alright? You still want cock, sweetheart?” - incoherent mewls, hole greedily clenching around four of Arthur’s fingers - “that a yes?” - after which he proceeds to eat Bruce out for a few more minutes, just to make sure Bruce is happy (and a sloppy mess once he slides his cock in))

Also? He’s a slapper. Not as in spanking, not necessarily, but he’ll eat Bruce out and slap his ass, making it jiggle. Pull back, slide two fingers into him to keep him occupied and slap his ass again to watch the way his cheek bounces, the way he arches his back. Thighs and Tiddies are both also perfectly bouncy and will thus get slapped as well (very lovingly, with great appreciation and followed by kiss-hot attention).

Also! Audacity! Bruce can def take it, he’s fit as hell, but Arthur seems the type to lovingly let him do the work while still being in control. Pulling him on his lap and helping him establish a slow rhythm and then just? Laying back? Arms behind his head, watching Bruce grind and swivel his hips, bouncing and grinding on him. And Bruce is strong, he could probably do that for hours on end, but Arthur’s cock is thick. So eventually, he might slow down a little, trying to keep his thoughts in order and not lose himself in that delicious slide. But nuh-uh. Arthur will laugh (asshat!) and lightly slap at his jiggling thigh. “What’s that, babes? You tired already? Come on, you can take a little more. Here, ride it, come on.” Once Arthur is kind enough to flip him and pound him into the mattress, Bruce is already half-blissed out, taken apart, dissolving. And in that state, Arthur brings the heat. Hammering in, catching mindlessly blissed Bruce by surprise and making him mewl and moan helplessly, need and overwhelming bliss turning him into a sloppy mess in seconds. Clawing at the sheets, fluttery eyelashes, eyes rolling back, mouth soft-hot and open, moans that would make a professional proud. Ass jiggling with the powerful thrusts.

Also - Bruce trying to hold a league meeting and getting a text on his batphone all “Can’t wait for later bby xxx 👅 💦 🍑” How’s he supposed to NOT let Arthur bend him over the table as soon as everyone left? Biting his cape to keep quiet while Arthur has NO problem making a whole mess of appreciative noises as he eats him out. Sex in the suit is always a bit of a hassle, but Arthur’s determined, so sooner rather than later he finally slides into that soft-hot hole to enjoy Bruce clenching around him, practically sucking him in. Bruce, of course, still tries desperately to keep his own voice down but thankfully, Arthur eventually has pity. He’s not a monster. If Bruce can’t keep quiet, he’ll fuck his mouth with three fingers to help him with that. Same rhythm as his cock and soon, Bruce’s knees are buckling, his mouth lax and his chin as well as Arthur’s hand an absolute mess of drool. And that’s when Arthur finally starts up the real rhythm. Hard, fast thrusts, incredibly powerful, strong enough that the table legs are creaking over the floor - it’s a converence table, and a heavy one at that. Bruce is getting railed. And honestly? Good for him. Fuck him to pieces, he deserves it 🥰

-

There’s so much more to consider - for example I’ve always been weak for fucking on a throne and I honestly feel like Arthur could make that work somehow and he WOULD. 

Love, I hope this was somewhat to your liking!! 💚💚 Thank you again for your kind words :) (and for sharing the thirst haha)

[sloppy-little-witch-bitch26]

My Dirty Little Secret Part 1

Story idea from @kellysimagines

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst

Summary: You’re happy with your boyfriend Duncan Shepherd, until certain events and people start to get in the way... 

“And now he’s threatening to sue the paper because of what we posted, all because we got the scoop on him money laundering! Can you believe that?!” You whined to your boyfriend.

“Mmhmm” Duncan mumbled, tapping away at his phone.

You side-eyed him, getting more than annoyed by his lack of attention. You two barely got anytime to spend with each other because your mothers were at constant war. Annette couldn’t stand your mother, and your mother, Clare, equally couldn’t stand her so your relationship with Duncan would give them both a heart attack. Possibly quite literally. As over bearing as they were, neither of you were up for being the cause of their deaths.

“So then I cut him a deal” you said.

“Basically if I slept with Mr Johnson, he’d give us the contacts of of the other stock brokers who were in on the scheme. So needless to say, we went at it on his desk” you replied tauntingly. More so to yourself since he still clearly wasn’t listening.

“Well at least you got what you needed” Duncan said exhaustingly. You understood he was busy but a few minutes of his attention was all you were after.

You picked up a couch pillow and threw it directly at Duncan’s head. He looked straight ahead of him, sighing like a parent would at an annoyed toddler before he adverted his gaze towards you.

You had a defiant pout on your face, paired with your crossed arms. You were being a bit of a brat.

“I’m sorry babe” he sighed.

“The creators of the app still haven’t figured out a coding issue which is dragging out the release date” he sighed again as his head fell back against his couch.

You uncrossed your arms, and knelt towards him. Your hand moving to under his shirt so you could massage his chest.

“Why don’t I take care of you” you purred into his ear, tongue latching out to catch his earlobe as you gave it a tug.

Duncan groaned from deep within his chest. Finally you were getting the attention you needed.

“I’m not going to go easy on you. This is your punishment for disturbing me” Duncan purred into your ear. Grabbing you by the backs of your thighs and heaving you into your bedroom.

Locking your legs around his hips, arms wrapped around his neck, you started licking your way up to his earlobe, tugging on it lightly, earning a grunt from your boyfriend and a playful slap on your ass.

“I’ve been such a bad girl” you playfully purred back at him.

You squealed when Duncan delivered a slap to your arse. No doubt leaving a handprint you would love to show off if you could.

Your back hit the mattress of your bed, you slightly bounced upon coming into contact before Duncan’s body smothered you, attacking your lips with desperate kisses.

Both of you undressing hastily, in too much of a rush to feel each other’s writhing bodies to bother with any teasing.

Immediately getting into the routine of forplay, mouths colliding, tongues licking, lips sucking, teeth biting and moans filling the room, it wasn’t long until you had him thrusting into you.

Although this was different. It wasn’t animalistic and frantic like normal.

Normally your sex was rough, edgy, and thrilling. Filled with hair pulling, skin slapping. Both your bodies supporting bruises the next day that you were only too happy to show off the day as a reminder of your nightly passions, But now?, Duncan was half heartedly thrusting into with as much vigour as as a broken jackhammer.

You frowned, watching Duncan’s facial reactions. His eyes were drooping and his breathing was light.

“Babe? You feeling okay?” You asked him mid way through a half hearted thrust.

“Mmm, yeah babe, you feel great” he replied, however his enthusiasm could’ve been more sincere.

“Baby, stop. You’re obviously too tired, let’s just rest” you told him, running your hands through his soft chocolate curls.

“No, I wanna do this” he determined.

“Dunc, you’ve gone soft, and I’m losing wood here” you laughed lightly as so not to offend him. Duncan was very proud of his skills in the bedroom. One time you faked an orgasm because you were jet lagged and boy was he pissed! You couldn’t walk for a week! Every time you sat down or crossed your legs, you would wince.

Duncan groaned, rolling off you and sighing deeply. Placing his arms behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry doll. I’m just exhausted” he confessed.

“Baby, I’m sorry you’re so tired. Is it business with the app?” You asked him as you continued to run your fingers through his soft hair. Using your fingertips to lightly massage his scalp.

He hummed in satisfaction as your delicate hands helped relax him.

“Mmm, it’s not just that. There’s events to go to, financial benefits to organise, senators to support and meet. Honestly the only help I’m getting is from Tiffany. If it weren’t for her, I’d have actually run myself into the ground”

Your eyebrows knit together in the middle of your forehead with the frown you were currently sporting upon listening to his last sentence.

Who the fuck was ‘Tiffany’?

You weren’t the jealous type, you trust Duncan and knew he would never cheat on your but he does have a reputation as a former serial womaniser.

“Tiffany? You’ve not mentioned her before” you replied as noncommittal as you could.

“She’s my new secretary. I told you about her last week” he grunted, struggling to fight the sleep that was approaching.

No he didn’t! You thought. But you weren’t going to question it but for some reason, you felt a pang in your gut. Maybe you were just over reacting.

“Babe, why’d you stop?” Duncan whined, breaking you out of your rampant unsettling thoughts.

“Hmm? What’s that hon” you asked him.

Duncan peaked one eye open and gestured to your fingers which had stop massaging his head.

You shook off your thoughts and carried on swiftly massaging his head.

It wasn’t long before his soft snores were drifting throughout the room.

Groaning lightly, Duncan turned on his side, draping his arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breathing and light snores brought a sweet smile to your face. Duncan was yours. You had nothing to worry about.

My loves: @kellysimagines, @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning. @stupidocupido, @avesatanormalpeoplescareme, @alexcornerblog, @petersfern-fics, @sojournmichael, @ccodyfern, @cotomandra, @confettucini, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @queencocoakimmie, @langdonalien, @sweetlangdon, @frucienlover, @gelukstraan, @dunc-donut, @sassyhollandx, @holylangdon, @lovelykhaleesiii, @sodanova, @queenie435, @crownofrowan, @sassylangdon

[wishful-sins]

Live (Chapter 1)

CamModel!Male!Orc x Female!Reader

You unlocked the front door to your apartment while lazily kicking off your work shoes. You were barley in the door frame before they were completely off. Haphazardly you dropped your bag on the floor by the door and shambled like a zombie to your comfy couch, face planting onto the throw pillow and letting out a long and relieved moan. You stretched out and laid there for a few moments debating whether you wanted to take a nap or not.

As you shimmied to get yourself comfortable you felt a certain tension between your legs. You groaned as you moved your hips against the couch cushions. As you moved you only further agitated the feeling, so you decided to do something about it.

Before you could decide what you wanted to do you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You pulled out the device and read the notification.

Valk: I’m going live now. Also doing an unboxing if you wanna watch ;)

You smiled and typed a quick reply before pocketing the phone again.

Eventually you were able to force yourself off your couch and find your laptop. After gathering it, your charger, and a special drawstring bag that you kept in your dresser drawer, you set them down on the chipped coffee table and plugged in the computer. As it booted up you took the opportunity to change into something more comfortable than your work attire. Shedding your skirt and button up shit you replaced them with a tank top and runner shorts. You also took the opportunity to remove your bra and throw it into the hamper.

As you organized your little set up you couldn’t help but feel more and more excited. You eagerly logged into your computer and without hesitation opened your browser to find your list of bookmarked websites. Scrolling down the list until you found url for monstercamx.com. You clicked the tab and entered your log in information so fast you messed up a few times. Your efforts were well rewarded with the unfiltered homepage of the site.

You moved your cursor to the search bar at the top of the page and typed in the familiar name Gr33nDemon26. You clicked enter and were brought to the page of a handsome orc you knew all too well.

You clicked on the thumbnail with the red and white icon that indicated it was live. The video window filled your screen and you saw your amazing boyfriend, Valk.

The video showed him sitting at the foot of his bed, shitless of course, his foresty green skin on full display. He wore loose light gray sweatpants with obviously nothing underneath, subtly showing off his giant bulge. His massive arms we out to play with all his ink exposed. You bit your lip as you watched his arms flex as he reached back to tie his long black wavy locks and braids into a loose bun. He grinned cheekily at the camera, his medium sized tusks causing his smile to become a little crooked yet all the more adorable.

You know his set up well from all the times you stayed at his place. His camera and tripod were sitting on top of his dresser as to get the best view of his room and bed. He also had a big screen tv fixed to the wall behind the camera connected to the internet so he could see all his tips and live chats. He was a professional and he acted like one.

“Welcome back, everyone,” he said in a low, sexy, yet playful tone. He may be a pro but he wasn’t too serious all the time.

“I’m real excited about this stream. You all have sent me such awesome gifts I thought I’d open them on camera for you all. Maybe I’ll even use one by the end. Don’t worry the fun stuff is coming.”

You laid back on the couch and watched as he reached behind him and pulled a box from the pile and rip it open, pulling out the contents. He made sure to thank the fans who sent him gifts though he was courteous and named them by their usernames. Normally his fans would send him sex toys or lube or novelty sex items even really bad porn games that he would play on occasion… naked of course. Sometimes outfits. One stream you remember he had tried on a leather daddy outfit someone had sent him and got many, many tips for it. You remember this because he’d worn it during one of you more private shows.

Though he was thankful for all he was sent he didn’t dwell on them too long. The people came here for a show after all.

“Thanks again for all the gift you’ve sent, if you guys want to send me more you can send them to my P.O. box. I put the address in my bio. Now I think I want to try one of them out,” he said in a sultry voice.

Out of the group of toys he had received he presented a very realistic masturbator. The kind that is actually shaped like a woman’s ass with two holes in it. The kind that you thrust into instead of moving up and down with your hand.

“This one looks like it’s going to be a lot of fun,” he said as he pulled it out of its packaging. He squeezed the silicone butt cheek before laying it down on the bed next to him.

“Thanks again, MissTrix,” he said as he prepared the toy.

You recognized that name. She was a popular elf cam girl. She and Valk often did collaborations since you all lived in the same city. Their streams together are insanely popular. Probably having to do with the fact the MissTrix is such a tiny girl with large breasts and Valk is a huge hulking orc that towers over everyone. That visual size difference is rather erotic in a sexual context. At first you were skeptical and even a little upset when you found out about their work together. But soon you came to realize that their relationship was nothing more than professional, maybe platonic at the most, as the three of you have hung out before. You trusted Valk fully, even if you weren’t a huge fan of his streams that weren’t just him.

As Valk got ready to begin the livechat was filled with people cheering that the show was finally started. Messages like “finally!” and “get on with it!” and “Let’s see the cucumber baby!” scrolled up your screen in rapid succession.

Valk stood up from the bed, his tree like height made his head go out of frame as he palmed himself through his sweatpants groaning softly at the sensation.

“Alright,” he said his voice much lower now it was time for some action, “Now let’s have some fun.”

You looked at the live chat as all the other viewers were furiously begging him to take off his pants. He chuckled as he read the messages and sated their cries by digging his thumbs into his waist band and pulling his pants off slowly. Agonizingly slowly.

As he pulled then down, more and more of his enormous cock became visible. You bit your lip in anticipation as the elastic waistband was pulled all the way down and his rock-hard cock sprung up and out of his pants. The thick head was flushed a darker green than the rest of his shaft and was already leaking precum. Beneath his shaft was a heavy pair of balls that were cleanly shaved. Valk liked to do manscaping for his streams, though he did always keep a patch of hair just above his cock.

Valk gripped his member in his fist and began pumping it up and down. Slathering the precum all down his shaft. He moaned and grunted from off frame as he continued pumping himself. He turned to the side to give the audience a full look at his throbbing cock.

At this point in most of his streams the messages stopped, and the tips flooded in even more. A few times people will message generic things like, “oh yeah baby,” or “that’s hot”. But since he was so preoccupied, he rarely had a chance to read them.

After pumping his cock a few more times he released it and stepped over to where the toy was situated at the edge of the bed. He stood at the side of the bed giving everyone the perfect view of his length relative to the toy. He placed his hands on the fake ass and aligned himself with the hole. He thrusted his hips as his cock was buried in the silicone pussy.

You were already hot and bothered at this point but now you were pushed passed the edge. You grabbed the bag from the coffee table and opened it, reaching inside and pulling out a bright pink vibrator. A toy that Valk had given you as a Valentine’s Day present last year. It wasn’t nearly as big as him, but it got the job done when he wasn’t here. Plus, the powerful vibrations more than made up for its size.

Grabbing a bottle of lube from the bag, you coated the toy and pulled down your shorts and underwear to your knees. You rubbed the slick head of the vibrator around your clit and against your labia, occasionally dipping the tip into your hole just to tease yourself and get you going more.

You listened and watched as Valk pounded into the toy, getting more and more rigorous with each minute. He moaned louder as his hips jackhammered into the fake ass.

Oh god how you wished that was you right now. Getting pounded into the mattress, your body barley being able to accommodate his massive girth and length, clenching at the sheets and screaming with ecstasy into the covers. Those thoughts only served to get your pussy even wetter as your slick coated your lips and making your toy glisten.

You inserted the toy and pressed the button which started the vibrations. You grabbed the toy by the hilt and began thrusting it into you, trying to match Valk’s movements, pretending it was at least his fingers inside you right now. You groaned in pleasure as the vibrator massaged all your most sensitive spots. With your free hand you moved to rub circles around your clit, imagining it was Valk’s big meaty fingers flicking and pinching the little sensitive button.

Your toes curled against your carpet as you watched and listened as your boyfriend continued to fuck the toy with reckless abandon. You could always tell when Valk was actually enjoying himself and when he was just putting on a show. He had told you he likes to think of you to get himself going. He doesn’t like being fake about it. He’d even admitted once to having a bit of an exhibition kink. The idea of taking you on camera as you both knew hundreds of people were watching excited him greatly. Not have it be a show like he does with other cam models he colabs with. Having it be real passionate love making that others could see in real time. Like someone just put a camera on you two when you had sex.

He never pressed you on this, however. He never asked you to be on a stream with him. He knew you would not be comfortable with that. He also never said your name on camera. He expressed he had a girlfriend but never divulged any other information. He was very popular on the site and he didn’t want to force that kind of spotlight on you. Or risk someone trying to find you or use his profession against you. He was in no way ashamed of what he does, and he knew you weren’t either, but he didn’t want to risk someone getting the wrong idea about you. Such a gentleman.

You were reaching your peak as you continued fucking yourself with the toy. Your fingers continued their assault on your clit as well, pushing you even further to the edge. You watched Valk pull himself from his own toy and begin stroking himself again. This time much harder and faster than when he had started. You could see the sticky threads of precum as his hand moved up and down his shaft and the sound of wet flesh mixed with his moans and animalistic grunts were music to your ears.

“Ahh! Fuck yes,” he moaned and hissed.

A few more thrusts of your own toy and you felt your inner walls contract around it. Waves of electricity flowed up your spine and all throughout your body. An explosion of sweet release. Your legs stretched out as your entire body coiled like a spring and just let go all at once. You moaned out loud, not caring if the neighbors heard you. Who cares? You’re a woman with needs.

You slumped against the couch as you’re high slowly yet steadily dissipated, leaving all your muscles with a warm tingling feeling. Breathing heavily, you pulled the toy from your body, letting out a light gasp as your flesh stretched around it only to relax again once it was gone. You set the toy on the coffee table. Not wanting to get your slick all over the cushions. Though to be honest you were very close to not caring right now.

You continued watching the stream, as Valk also rapidly approached his own climax. He kept pumping his cock, his green skin damp with sweat and his muscles rippling under his skin as his body tensed. With a very loud grunt, Valk squeezed the base of his cock as white ropes of cum shot from the tip, he pumped it a few more times, milking his shaft and prolonging the pleasure he felt. He kept cumming, his seed spilling into his hand and the back of the toy he had been using, hopefully he didn’t get any on his clean sheets. You watched his whole body relaxed as his climax finished and he panted like a hot animal. You bit your lip at the sight, wondering if that was enough to make you want to pull up one of his archived streams and go for another round.

With what strength you had left you reached for your trackpad and clicked on the little dollar sign button next to your username. You entered a number and clicked enter. A blue notification appeared next to your name with the dollar amount you had just paid with the message, “perfect show big boy ;)”. A nice fifteen-dollar tip for a good show. That sounded fair.

As you regained your composure you watched Valk do the same. Gathering himself enough to make a few more sexy remarks, another thank you to MissTrix for the toy and to thank his audience for watching. He winked into the camera as he signed off before turning off the camera officially ending the stream.

You clicked off the screen and relaxed against couch, closing your eyes and basking in the afterglow of your climax. After a few minutes of silent bliss, you heard your phone vibrate on the cushion next to you. You lifted the device and clicked the screen on to read the notification.

Valk: I’m headed over…

You weakly smiled and typed another simple response before lifting yourself from the crouch and shambled to the shower, the leftover pleasure in your muscles mixed with the tiredness of the day didn’t help with your balance. You shed your clothes a second time and stepped into warm shower rinsing the smell of your own sex off of you and rejuvenating your muscles.

After your shower you changed into even more comfortable clothes, a pair of soft leggings and an oversized sweater that hung off your shoulder. You were too busy vigorously drying your hair with a clean fluffy towel to notice the soft knocks on your front door. When the second, louder set of knocks reached your ears you discarded the towel on to the bathroom floor and walked to the front door.

The door creaked open and you looked up at your tree like boyfriend standing in the door frame. He smiled down at you and you noticed he must have also taken a shower right after his stream as his black locks were still damp and clung to his shoulder. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss, your lips fitting perfectly in the space between his tusks.

You stood aside to let him in and that’s when you noticed the plastic bags in his hand. You smirked as you closed the door and he placed the bags on the kitchen counter. He began digging through the bags, pulling out several Chinese take-out boxes and two pints of ice cream. He placed the ice-cream in the freezer and turned back to you with his arm crossed over his broad chest.

You looked at him innocently as you grabbed one of the boxes and peeked inside.

“I thought I told you that you shouldn’t tip me,” Valk said.

“But you did such a good job,” you defended as you looked at the massive orc with innocent eyes, “I wanted to show you my appreciation for putting on such a great show.”

He chuckled and leaned forward on the counter making direct eye contact with you.

“You show me your appreciation when there isn’t an audience,” he said smugly, “You make it very, very clear.”

Instead of answering you planted another sweet kiss right on his lips. He reciprocated, his hand gliding up to rest against your cheek as you smiled into the kiss. Valk pulled away first making you whine a but in irritation.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he said with a smirk, “Let’s eat first and then we can have a good time. Besides, you’re technically paying for dinner.”

END

Helloooo everybody who’s reading this! I hope you enjoyed my story. It’s the first real monster boyfriend story I’ve fully written and I’m really proud of it. I hope it doesn't bother too many people that the reader insert character is female in other stuff I write I try to keep reader insert characters gender neutral. Anyway! I hope you enjoyed it and any feedback is appreciated. I already have ideas for future chapters of this story!

[catalinda04]

Carried Away Chapter 5: Breakfast Confessions

Masterlist

“I’m sorry Sir, but Miss Claussen has asked not to be disturbed. You may leave her a message, and I can assure you it will be delivered first thing in the morning.” The middle-aged woman behind the front desk assured him.

“No, no thank you. No message.” Henry walked away from the desk of the hotel. “How could you be so stupid?” He chastised himself. “You weren’t going to take her to bed tonight. Why did you ask? Now she most assuredly thinks you’re some sex-crazed playboy just out for a good time. You need to make this right. But how can I if she won’t see me?” He argued with himself. “I’ll just have to wait for morning. I’ll wait for her and apologize then.” Pleased with his plan, he went home to take a cold shower, and try not to think about Lucy and her soft lips, and sparkling eyes.

Lucy couldn’t remember crying harder in her life. She needed a friend and she needed one now. Sarah would know what to say.

“Oh, Sarah! I made a mess of things! He wanted me! ME! And instead of just going for it, I ran away. Literally! I RAN away from him! He must think I’m some kind of weirdo, glad that he dodged a bullet there.” She sobbed into the phone.

“Sweetie, it’s ok. I wish I could be there to give you a hug. Now explain. Tell me exactly what happened.” Lucy explained about the dinner and the wine and the dancing in the park, and the kiss that had fried her synapses with its heat and intensity.

“I ruined it! He wanted me! Now I’ve ruined the whole thing. I don’t even have his phone number or know where he lives to explain myself.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. Why don’t you get some sleep, and maybe everything will seem better in the morning. If nothing else, please don’t wallow in this. You’re in London! Go out and see the city, do all of the things you had planned, and try to forget about it.”

“Thank you. I know it’s silly. I only met this guy today, I shouldn't be so messed up over this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too. Get some sleep.”

Lucy contemplated the pint bottle of vodka she’d purchased earlier in the day. She hoped that by finishing it, she could at least sleep through the night. She finished the bottle and fell into a fitful sleep, full of jumbled dreams, where Superman was flying overhead while Henry laughed at her.

She awoke to a jackhammer in her brain, and a roiling in her stomach. The vodka probably wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had, she decided. After a long shower, a bottle of water, a handful of ibuprofen, and a gallon of concealer she finally felt ready for a day of exploring the city. The first item on her agenda; buy a map of the city. No more getting lost in strange neighborhoods. Only trouble came from that.

She put on her Jackie O. sunglasses to hide the dark circles the concealer didn’t quite cover, stepped out the front door of the hotel, and almost ran right into Henry.

“Good morning. I brought you a cup of tea.” He said handing her a paper to go cup.

“Henry! What are you doing here?” Lucy paled at his appearance.

“I came to apologize. I obviously came on too strong last night. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I’m sorry. I DID get scared, and I ran away, instead of facing my feelings. Would you like to go get some breakfast, and maybe I can shed some light for you.”

They made small talk as Henry led her to a nearby restaurant. Perusing the menu, she asked, “What does a ‘Full English’ breakfast consist of?”

“A ‘Full English’ is usually fried eggs, sausages, bacon or black pudding, fried veg, beans, and toast.”

���And people say Americans fry too much. How can anyone eat that much fried food this early in the morning.”

“There’s nothing better after a night at the pub.” He smiled. Lucy had planned on skipping breakfast today, but it seemed since seeing Henry, her stomach had forgotten all about the vodka incident.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.” Lucy started after giving the waitress their orders. “First of all, again, I’m sorry for how I left last night. I really did have a wonderful time, it was probably the best evening I’ve ever spent. Then you...made your...request...and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I’m sorry I said it. It was incredibly forward of me to even suggest that we might take things to that level, we’d known each other for less than 12 hours. I didn’t mean to imply that I thought that you were…” And he just trailed off.

“It’s not that I was offended, or didn’t want to. I did, oh good lord how I did, it’s just…I can’t believe I’m telling you this…I’ve…um...never…um...well you know.”

“Had a one-night stand?” He suggested.

“Had ANY night stand.” She supplied, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh…OH!” He exclaimed, his eyes going wide as understanding hit him. “But you’re what 26, 27? How does that happen? Is it a religion thing?”

“No, it’s a never had the opportunity thing, and I’m a month shy of 31 thank you very much for reminding me. I wasn’t popular in high school, and in college, I was focused on my studies, then well, guys have never shown an interest in me. Which is why I was so surprised when you actually showed at the coffee shop yesterday.” She explained fidgeting her hands on the table.

Thankfully their food arrived at just that moment, halting Lucy’s rambling and giving them a few moments to take in what had already been said.

After a few minutes of thoughtful eating Henry finally broke the silence. “So what is on our schedule for today?”

“Our? What do you mean our?”

“If you wouldn't mind, I’d like to accompany you around town today.”

“What? Why?” Lucy asked, genuine shock crossing her features.

“Because I’d like to get to know you better. And I’d like to see where this could lead.”

Lucy sat dumbfounded, staring at Henry “You, want to spend the day with me? Even after how I behaved last night, and all that’s been explained over breakfast?”

“Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“Because. No man has ever wanted to...get to know me.”

“Well, then they are supremely daft. Because I’ve thought about nothing but getting to know you since the coffee shop yesterday.” She gaped at him slightly, her brow furrowing in disbelief. “I would like to keep spending time with you while you’re here in London.”

“I’m just planning on doing standard sightseeing, nothing that you’d want to do, I’m sure.”

“I have a few days before we start filming on my latest project. I would like to spend as much of those few days with you as you’ll allow.”

For a few seconds, Lucy couldn’t speak. Had he just said that? he wanted to spend more time with her. Her brain could barely fathom the idea. “Well, I was going to go to the Globe, followed by the Tate and St. Paul’s.”

“Wow, that’s quite a bit for one day.”

“I’m only here for a few days, I want to see as much as I can.”

Henry stood. “Well then, we had better be off, but before we go,” He leaned close when Lucy stood as well. “I want to tell you, my ‘offer’ from last night is on the table, so to speak. But I will leave it up to you to decide if you want to pick it up. There will be no pressure from me” Lucy gaped after him as he left to pay the bill.

Once they were outside, he donned a pair of sunglasses and a hat. “Disguise.” He explained. “It’s not a great one, but it’s better than nothing.”

Lucy and Henry spent the entire day together. Talking, laughing, learning little bits about each other, like her love for Picasso, and his aversion to black olives. Lucy surprised herself. She was normally a very selfie-phobic person, but she found she would take as many selfies as possible as long as Henry was by her side.

That evening, they enjoyed a lovely meal at a little bistro near Leicester Square, before Henry escorted Lucy back to her hotel. When she tried to say goodnight at the front door, he insisted on seeing her to her room.

Her room was at the back of the hotel, through an outdoor courtyard. When they arrived at her door, Lucy unlocked it and turned to say goodnight to Henry.

“Is this your entire room? He asked peering inside. “This may be the smallest hotel room I’ve ever seen.”

“The bathroom is so small that in order to turn around, you have to step out of it.” She laughed, gesturing in, indicating he should have a look.

He stepped into the room and what had once been a small room, seemed positively minuscule. He turned to Lucy. He had planned to say goodnight, give her a simple kiss and be on his way. But the nervous, expectant look on her face nearly undid him. He took the two steps possible to cross the room and framed Lucy’s face in his hands. He lowered his lips to hers, intending to give her a slow, sweet kiss goodnight. She responded with abandon. Wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. She opened her mouth, and her tongue dueled with his.

He slowly sat down on the bed, pulling Lucy with him. She sat next to him and buried her hands in his hair. Henry turned to lay her down on the bed, her hands slid down his strong back to slide under the hem of his shirt. His hand left her face to slide down her neck, moulding his palm to her breast. Lucy moaned against his mouth.

His hand continued its downward slide to her waist, toying with the hem of her shirt. When his hand slid under to touch the bare skin of her stomach, she started. She put a hand on his chest. “Stop.” She gasped. “We need to stop. I...no. Not yet.” She could barely get the words out around her gasping for breath, sitting up, she left the hand on his chest.

“Yes. Stop. Good idea.” Henry agreed once his brain started working again.

Lucy stood up and pulled Henry with her. “You should go.” She said kissing him again, all but pushing him out of the room. “Good night Henry. Thank you for a wonderful day.” She said, kissing him once more, before shutting the door and falling back onto it.

Henry stood staring at her door. He started back toward the hotel exit before he turned and knocked on Lucy’s door. She answered with a slightly dazed expression on her face.

He grabbed her and kissed her one long, deep, thorough, kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed heavily. “I’ll go now, but think about this. When we do finally make love. We’re going to set the sheets on fire.” Then he kissed her again for good measure and walked off. As last words went, that was one for the record books.

Chapter 4          Chapter 6