#I had to search up holes in body for reference cause the grind never stops ‼️

[zabala0z]

TW: trypophobia and worms

So. Hear me out.

Anyways, one of my more…gross drawings. I love it.

[artificialqueens]

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me, Chapter 2/10: Vaginal (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42

A/N: Continuing down the list--vaginal orgasm! This refers to orgasms achieved via penetration without direct/targeted stimulation to the g-spot.

As per usual, disclaimer: THIS FIC IS NOT SEX ED. It may be based on an infographic but it is NOT educational, it is FICTION!!!! If you want more info on anything in the fic, I recommend visiting scarleteen, it's a fantastic resource.

Thank you Holtz for beta-ing <3 <3 <3

“What do you mean you’ve never been fucked with a strap?”

Rosé shrinks under Denali and Mik’s gaze, cheeks burning scarlet as their mouths gape in shock at her. It wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal; just an offhand comment while they were cuddling, wondering out loud how it felt to be on the receiving end of the strap she so enjoyed using with her partners. She hadn’t expected Denali and Mik to react like this, to literally push themselves up to stare at her, completely flabbergasted.

“I just like wearing them so much, I never got around to actually being fucked with one,” she justifies, trying to sound as casual as possible, though she knows from the way both Mik and Denali soften that she’s not as successful at that as she was hoping. But that’s the truth, as dumb as it sounds; she’s always enjoyed wearing the strap so much that by the time she takes it off, she’s content with something else. It’s easier that way; no need to switch things around, stop to change condoms or re-fasten the strap.

Not to mention the small part of her that’s sort of relieved that she hasn’t tried, because if she has no feeling to reference, then she won’t have a reason to spend time fixating on whether she measures up to it or not; if she doesn’t have a standard in mind, then she can settle on taking Denali & Mik’s word for it that she’s any good. Like right now, for instance, when Denali is reaching out to grab Rosé’s hand and give it a kind squeeze.

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that,” the blonde reassures her, “It’s just that you’re so good at it, it’s hard to believe, that’s all.”

“Seriously, I’m like, so shook right now,” Mik agrees. It’s flattering, really, and for a moment, Rosé thinks the compliment is where things will end; deciding that they want her to keep being the one to wear the strap, that as long as she’s so good at it, there’s no need to switch things up.

Of course, she should’ve known both Mik and Denali better than to actually believe that.

“So, follow up question,” Denali’s brow knits into a frown as she looks Rosé up and down, locking eyes with her again before proposing, “Do you want to try getting fucked with a strap?”

“Not that you should feel pressured!” Mik interjects, casting a sidelong warning look at Denali. “We’re just wondering, are you ever like, curious? About what it feels like? ‘Cause we’re both pretty good too, I think--”

“Wow, you think?” Denali interjects, huffing indignantly. “Nice, Mik. Real nice.”

“You know what I mean.” Mik rolls his eyes theatrically, only to shriek when Denali decides to get revenge by jabbing him hard in the side.

“The point is, Rosé--”

“What I meant to say before Denali interrupted me--”

“No, let me ask!”

“Me!”

“Enough, both of you!” Rosé tries to sound stern, but has to pinch her own thigh to keep from laughing. She swears that sometimes, it’s like dating two toddlers; Denali and Mik freeze mid-spar, Denali’s hands halfway to Mik’s shoulders as if she’s preparing to push him down and slap a hand over his mouth so she could beat him to the punch by force. Which, judging from the way she slowly lowers her arms with a sheepish look in her eyes, is exactly what she was planning to do.

God.

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Rosé crosses her arms over her chest, “So one of you just get it over with already.”

Mercifully, Mik relents without a fight, sitting back on his heels as Denali scoots forward towards Rosé.

“Rosie. My beloved.” She slaps her hands over Rosé’s cheeks, cupping her face as she continues, “Next time we have sex, if you’re feeling it…” she pauses for effect, locking eyes with Rosé before continuing gravely, “Will you let us stick our dicks in your hole?”

“Or holes!” Mik interjects. “If you’re into that.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rosé groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Clowns, absolute clowns, the both of them. But despite her exasperation, neither Denali nor Mik seem particularly deterred; if anything, they become more expectant, Mik leaning in excitedly and Denali’s eyes taking on a further intensity as both of them wait for Rosé’s answer.

“Yes,” she finally sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you can stick your… you can stick your dicks into my--my… God, I can’t believe I’m saying this-- hole . You can stick your dicks in my hole.”

When both of them begin to cheer in response, Rosé can’t help but wonder what the Hell she’s gotten herself into.

--

As it turns out, it’s almost two weeks until they actually wind up using the strap at all. It’s not that they don’t want to; in reality, the whole situation is out of their control. Things get busy at work for Mik, and Rosé has three auditions she needs to prepare for and recover from, and Denali is always so tired after practices these days that even if Mik and Rosé have the inclination to run to bed, it’s already taken up by her collapsed, already-sleeping body. In any case, sex--whether it involves dicking Rosé down or not--is the last thing on their minds in that time period.

At least, it’s the last thing on Denali and Mik’s minds, as far as Rosé knows. The truth is, while they’ve been occupying themselves with other things, Rosé’s mind has stayed on its usual one-track, their earlier conversation and the promises Mik and Denali had made playing in her mind over and over again. She finds herself drifting into fantasies even when she’s supposed to be focusing on something else, until by the end of their impromptu sex break, she finds herself almost constantly on edge, increasingly restless thanks to the thoughts that never quite seem to leave her head.

Thoughts like Mik kneeling over her wearing his strap, stroking the length of it as he trails his eyes over her body, delaying touching her knowing that any second, she’ll break and beg for it. Or Denali sliding into her while her mouth is latched to one of Rosé’s nipples, sucking and licking and making her come totally undone. Swallowing the length of it while Mik’s hand is tangled in her hair, or listening to Denali huff as she snaps her hips up against Rosé’s. How a strap might feel different from fingers, and exactly how Denali or Mik might make her thighs tremble, might fuck her so hard she can’t walk.

It’s a rainy Friday night when her dreams finally come to fruition. Dark clouds had been looming over the city for the last few days, and everyone had been waiting for the sky to unleash the storm they had been sure was coming. There’s no real warning, no initial spitting or dampness in the air; the sky had gone dark and let loose thunder, lightning, and a torrential downpour.

Given that, it’s no surprise that the power goes out less than thirty minutes later.

“Did you find the candles yet?” Rosé calls over to Denali, squinting through the darkness to watch her girlfriend scour the kitchen cabinets.

“ Did you find the candles yet?” Denali mocks as she whips around and shines her flashlight right in Rosé’s eyes, scowling at the two people piled on the couch. “It’d be a lot easier if you two bums helped, you know.”

“I can’t get up, I have a Mik on my lap,” Rosé hums, the shit-eating grin spreading on her face spurred on by Mik giggling at the comment.

“And what’s his excuse?” Denali snorts, pointing her chin towards the man nestled up against Rosé.

“I’m huddling with Rosie for warmth!”

“And I’m very grateful,” Rosé pats Mik’s head, winking over at Denali, who huffs and grumbles something under her breath before turning back to her search. Finally, she finds what she’s looking for, and soon the living room is littered with candles that light the room in a soft glow.

It would almost be romantic, if it weren’t for the way Mik’s elbow is digging into Rosé’s ribs.

“So what now?” Denali shoves Rosé over, jostling Mik and dislodging his elbow in the process as she grabs Rosé around the waist, pulling her in while she settles. Rosé doesn’t particularly mind, though; Mik shifts closer, too, and it’s nice, getting to be in the middle of the cuddle-pile.

That is, until she feels something against her leg, and realizes with a jolt that Mik’s hips have started to squirm against it, her calf having unwittingly slipped between his legs.

“It hasn’t even been ten seconds,” she snorts, but when Mik looks up at her, there’s an almost pitiful desperation in his eyes, hunger and eagerness obvious even in the near-darkness.

“I can’t help it,” he whines, “It’s been so long…”

Without even meaning to, Rosé presses her leg up against her boyfriend a little more firmly, hardly noticing the fact that for just a moment, she loses her breath completely.

“What’s the matter?” Rosé savours the way Mik sighs out shakily, eyes closing as he chases the pressure she’s applying. “Can’t keep it in your pants anymore?”

“I think that means he’s been a good boy, Rosie.” Denali’s breath tickles at Rosé’s ear, and for a moment, she stops, frowning as she tries to figure out what Denali could possibly mean before it clicks suddenly.

“Not at all?” Rosé's eyes widen in surprise, and Mik’s blush becomes so fierce, she swears she can almost feel it from her place on the couch.

At least she’s jerked off a couple times in the last two weeks, when she’d been alone in the apartment and too horny to wait; she’d naturally assumed that Denali and Mik had done the same. Unless…

“Strap feels good against me,” Mik provides simply, grinding down against Rosé’s leg a little harder, “not enough to come, usually, but I thought…” he clears his throat, and Rosé has to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss the embarrassment from his face. “I wanted to save it for when we--when you--”

“What d’you say we take this to the bedroom, yeah?” Denali proposes, her hands sliding home to Rosé’s chest and palming her tits through her shirt. “I think Mik might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.”

Rosé moves so fast, she’s surprised she doesn’t accidentally knock over a candle.

It’s almost pitch-black in their bedroom, but Rosé finds that she doesn’t particularly care. As soon as they’ve crossed the threshold into the room, they go purely by feel, falling back onto the bed in a giggly, excited mess. Mik’s hands find their way to Rosé’s waist, his fingers splaying over her sides and nails digging in as Denali’s mouth meets Rosé’s own in a deep, perfect kiss. By the time Mik’s lips latch onto her neck, she can barely keep it together; she needs more, and she needs it now.

“Please,” Rose moans into Denali, who smirks against her lips.

“Please what, baby?” Denali plays dumb, biting down a little on her lip as Mik escalates his own teasing, licking and nipping up to her jaw, his hands wandering down to play with the hem of her shirt.

Fuck.

“More…”

It’s all Rosé can muster, but it’s enough; frantic hands begin to move over her body, tugging and grasping and peeling her clothes away until she’s in nothing but her underwear, Denali’s hands cupping her tits through her bra and Mik’s mouth marking her collarbone.

“Still up to taking my cock, angel?” Mik’s voice drips with hunger and need, but Rosé can hear the concern behind it, the need to hear that Rosé is still open to trying something new. But Rosé doesn’t even need to think before she nods, squirming with anticipation.

“I’m ready,” she breathes, locking eyes with her boyfriend and mirroring the want she finds in his own. “ Please .”

Mik answers her only with a chaste kiss on the lips before slipping away to get everything prepped.

“I want this off,” Denali brings Rosé’s attention away from Mik with a firm squeeze to her tits before one hand drops below the cup, a lazy finger tracing over the underwire.

Rosé wastes no time in granting the request, shimmying out of her bra and sighing in relief when Denali responds by latching her mouth onto one of Rosé’s nipples, tongue gentle and teasing. Not that she can focus on Denali’s ministrations for long--before she has a chance to lose herself in the feeling of Denali nipping and sucking on the hardened bud, she notices the bed dip and shift as Mik climbs back on, bottle of lube in hand. And the sight of Mik with a harness fastened tight on his hips, his favourite realistic cock waiting between his legs?

Rosé can’t think of a single thing she’d rather see right now.

“Can I--” she starts to reach forward before freezing, suddenly becoming aware of the bemused twinkle in Mik’s eyes as he watches her reaction. Denali picks up on it, too, and takes the opportunity to ghost a finger along the curve of Rosé’s spine, humming with satisfaction when Rosé shivers.

“Can you what, angel?” Denali teases, the hand on her back moving down again to rest on her ass. “Go on, don’t be shy. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Can…can I--” Rosé starts, but it’s too difficult; looking from the strap to the bottle in Mik’s hand back up to his cocky smirk, her embarrassment overtakes her, and she looks at him with pleading eyes, burning face a cry for help.

“Put your hand out, baby,” he softens, taking pity on her, and she smiles gratefully as she obeys, letting him squirt a generous amount of lube into her palm so that she can stroke it on for him, the mess covering her hand when she finally finishes well worth the lingering sensation of the toy in her grip. She wipes the excess lube off on her bare stomach, then scoots back, fitting straight into Denali’s waiting arms.

“Hips up,” Mik continues directing as Denali’s hands find their way back onto Rosé’s tits from behind, deft fingers circling and pinching while Rosé lets Mik slide her panties down and throw them aside.

“Think you can take daddy already, or do you need fingers first?” Denali whispers into Rosé’s ear before planting a soft kiss on her temple, and for a moment, Rosé pauses, frowning as she considers her options. The strap doesn’t look that thick, and Rosé trusts Mik to be gentle, to go slow and check in often. But at the same time, there’s a reason Denali asked; what if it really is different, and it hurts?

“Relax,” Denali cuts off Rosé’s spiral with a hand snaking down to her slit, playing with her folds gently to bring her out of her own head, focus on something else instead. “You have nothing to worry about, ‘kay?”

“We can go as slow as you want,” Mik adds with a soft, reassuring smile, and Rosé nods, letting out a shaky breath.

“Wanna feel you,” she decides. “Please, daddy.”

Mik says nothing, only leans forward to kiss Rosé sweetly, but she swears she can taste excitement on his lips.  But the moment is over as soon as it began; Mik pulls away and gets to work lining himself up with Rosé’s cunt, flashing her one last lopsided smile before he begins to ease himself in.

“How’s that feel, angel?” he starts to thrust in and out shallowly, slowly, and Rosé has to admit--her boyfriend wasn’t lying when he said he was good. Between his teasing and Denali continuing to play with her nipples, craning down to kiss the curve of her neck, Rosé can’t help but squirm, chase Mik’s dick with her hips while pushing her chest up into Denali’s hands. But it’s to no avail; they both keep up the cruel game, working her up and practically radiating glee as she gets closer and closer to unravelling.

That is, until Denali brings a sharp slap to her tits, and she’s jerked out of her trance by the realization that she still hasn’t answered her boyfriend.

“Focus, baby girl,” she murmurs, “Use your words and tell daddy how you feel.”

“Good,” she breathes, “Feels good, daddy, so fucking good— ah,” she cuts off with a gasp as Mik speeds up a little, thrusting a little deeper as he smiles down at her approvingly.

“Good girl.”

Rosé has to admit--now that she’s actually on the receiving end on her lover’s strap, she gets the hype. Mik’s pace is relentless, yet fluid, the rhythm of his thrusts unbroken even when he leans down to attach his lips to her neck. His hands tighten around Rosé’s hips, grip bruising as it pulls her closer still, allowing him to hit exactly where he needs to. And Denali, in the meanwhile?

“God, I wish you could see yourself,” Denali’s voice is low in Rosé’s ear, hands traveling down her sides and nails scratching along her skin. “So pretty right now, our pretty little mess.”

As if to further tease Rosé, Denali brings one of her hands down between the redhead’s legs, laughing when Rosé immediately cries out in shock and overstimulation when Denali begins to circle Rosé’s clit with far-too-gentle fingers. But her moans turn into whines of protest when just as fast, Denali takes her fingers back again, this time bringing them to Rosé’s lips for her to suck into her mouth.

“There we go, good girl,” she purrs as Rosé licks the taste of herself from Denali’s fingertips. “See how wet you are, sweetheart? Poor baby,” she laughs a little, her other hand’s touch becoming soft on her waist as she teases, “can’t even control yourself, can you?”

Rosé can’t answer; she’s too far gone, too lost in the dizzying task of trying to take in every feeling, process everything being done to her. It’s a fact that neither Mik nor Denali fail to notice, but it’s Mik that finally says something after a few more moments of torment, his voice dripping with condescension as he goes in for the kill.

“You take daddy’s cock so well, baby,” he murmurs against her collarbone. “Doing so good for us.”

He moves one hand from her hip to her jaw, tipping her chin up to kiss him languidly, and fuck, she can’t hold on much longer, not when Denali’s hands are stroking the insides of her thighs and Mik’s tongue is against hers and all she wants is more.

“Please,” Rosé musters up all the strength she can to force the plea out, eyes screwing shut in effort, “Please, please let me come, please, I need to come, please!”

“Go ahead, angel,” Mik gives her one more sweet kiss before making one last particularly hard thrust, and that pushes her over the edge.

Rosé’s orgasm crashes over her all at once, knocking the air from her lungs and making the world spin. Mik fucks her through her orgasm, Denali whispering sweet praises all the while, and slowly, she comes down again, still feeling like she’s floating on air.

“How d’you feel, gorge?” Mik looks at Rosé with concern as he pulls out, and it’s cute, the little flash of insecurity that Rosé catches in his eyes. She laughs, opening her arms to beckon Mik towards her.

“I feel amazing.”

Mik beams as he shimmies out of the strap, crawling up towards Rosé and making room for himself between her and Denali. But as he does, he accidentally brushes himself against Rosé’s thigh, and the little gasp he lets out alerts her to something that isn’t quite right.

He’s wet, and swollen, and Rosé realizes with a jolt that she hadn’t heard him come like he thought he might.

She looks over at Denali, tipping her head towards Mik suggestively. The blonde frowns in confusion for just a moment before her face lights up in understanding, and she smiles as she puts a hand over Mik’s thigh, licking her lips when Rosé does the same on his other side.

“Open your legs, baby boy,” Rosé murmurs, kissing the blush that’s already burning at his cheeks. “It’s time for me to thank you.”

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 50

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 50: Demanding Answers

The Big Chapter 50 is here.

You were ready to walk out into the living area to wait for him. While you waited, you went behind the bar to see if there was anything to drink. You waved goodbye to the ladies and found a nice wine to drink while you waited. You poured yourself a glass and walked over to the couch to lounge, rather suggestively.

You heard the door open and you watched him walk in, he took off his helmet and set it on the buffet in the front entrance area. All while not taking his eyes off of you. He sauntered over to you while his eyes roamed over your body, “Do you want to play Kitten and skip dinner?” As he reached you he bent down for a kiss.

You turned away and moved to get up, setting your finished wine glass down on the coffee table. “No, I would like dinner, and for you to explain some things to me. And if I get my answers then we can play.” You made your way down the hall to the dining room before receiving an answer.

He did follow you. You made your way to your seat and pulled up the menu. He followed and made his way to kiss your cheek which you also avoided, with the back of your hand meeting his lips. “Dinner and questions first, play later,” you commanded.

He let out a frustrated huff but sat down. He made his order and you two sat staring at each other waiting for the food to arrive. You could tell he was getting more annoyed by the minute. You were keeping your face neutral, waiting for him to crack first.

Which he did, “So are you going to ask these questions of yours? Or am I supposed to pry them from your mind.” His fingers thrummed on the table. He hadn’t taken his gloves off yet, something that was starting to annoy you. You prepared yourself for dinner like a lady, but he failed to simply take off his gloves.

“I don’t know, would you rather have some food before you get angry and storm off or would you like to possibly ruin dinner now, before we have even eaten?” Your question was based on history. The last few times you had tried to get him to answer things he had blown up and walked out or made you do a 180 and forget about it until days later.

He was annoyed by this question you could tell. His jaw clenched and the hand that was drumming on the table turned to a fist for a moment before laying its palm flat. “I wouldn’t want to spoil your dinner,” he said through gritted teeth.

Your dinner came in, along with another glass of wine. You were going to need a bit of liquid courage to be able to keep your backbone. As you both ate the tension in the room was high. You could tell by his rough eating of his dinner that he was just getting angrier and angrier. When you were finished you slowly finished off your glass of wine before standing and leaving the room.

You heard a crash, but it did not stop you from your mission. You walked up the stairs to the lounge space and sat down in front of the fireplace causing it to turn on. Before he descended the stairs after you, you ordered a stronger drink from your phone. You could hear him stomp after you, like a child being told what to do. You smirked at that thought. Oh yes, like a child.

He did not sit next to you, but he stood off to the side of the fireplace, glaring at you. With clenched fists and a clenched jaw he asked, “Your questions?”

You raised a finger at him, signaling for him to wait. At that moment the door to your chambers opened and a droid flew up the steps and delivered you your drink. You took the drink from its tray and held up the glass to inspect it before taking a drink. You then hold it in your hand, “Why did you not tell me about the formal dinner? You, not Hux, not Phasma, not your knights, not my ladies-in-waiting, but you.” Your head was level but you glared at him through your lashes, your lips slightly pursed.

You watched him clench and unclench his fists for several moments. His clenched jaw allowed you to see him grind his teeth. If he could harm you with just the look of his dark eyes, you would have been painted across the walls by now, but you were serving him a look back. “It was not a matter of importance,” he sneered finally. His eyes were twitching and seething with anger and frustration.

“Really, because it doesn’t appear that way. Is this not a formal dinner with high ranking planetary officials of the First Order? Is this not the first official event where I will be presented as Lady Ren? Your match. Or is that not something that is important to you anymore, me being your match?” You leaned forward, testing him. Daring him to do something. You took a sip from your drink and swirled it around in your glass waiting for his answer.

You heard a crash come from somewhere downstairs, but you held your ground not moving, not being phased. “Yes, they are important to the First Order and the final agenda, but they are not important to me. You will be presented as Lady Ren because you are Lady Ren. You are my match, the other half to my soul. You are important to me.”

You scoffed at this, something that earned another crash only this time it was a chair that flew off the lounge space balcony and down to the floor below. You flinched for a second before regaining your composure. “If I was important to you then you would tell me such things, or at least you would have the decency to send me a message yourself. Or did you forget that I still have my phone?”

He tore his gaze away from you, his hands clenched tightly into fists, his arms tense and shaking with anger. “Is that what you want?” You were pretty sure his anger was burning a hole in the wall behind you.

“Yes, that is what I want. For you to message me at the very least. I don’t think that is a lot to ask for, or you could tell me before you leave in the morning. Is that such a hard request?” You tilted your head towards him. Your eyes analyze his reaction.  

His fist clenched and unclenched several times before he answered, “No,” through gritted teeth once more.

“Good.” You leaned back in your seat and took another sip of your drink. “Now, I would like you to tell me who you have been speaking to when you think I am asleep.”

This set something off, “I told you never to speak of her again,” he roared. You could see his chest vibrating with anger. Seeming to struggle to keep his emotions locked inside his chest, like a cage.

You racked your brain to think of who he was talking about, but then something clicked and your body felt like ice had been poured through your veins. You stood and turned to walk to the edge of the balcony, “So the scavenger is a she.” Your back was to him.

“She is nothing, she means nothing.” You could hear his anger, but could no longer see it.

Something inside you broke, “If she means nothing then why won’t you tell me about her? Or are you lying to me and yourself.” The ending came as more of a whisper.

You could hear him step forward, “She is no one, she means nothing.” His voice was flat. You turned to look at him, but the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. His eyes were windows that betrayed the privacy of his mind, and heart.

Your drink fell to the floor, your legs moving on their own. You ran down the steps, tears falling down your face. He was frozen in his spot. Your brain and heart were moving at two different paces, without thinking you went into your dressing room and locked the door. You fell to the ground, your heart shattered with the drink you left upstairs. You were alone, but without thinking you hit a button on a remote, to call for them. You did not want to be alone.

There was pounding outside the door. Kylo, he was yelling too, but your brain didn’t process what was being said. You felt numb.

After a few minutes, you heard another voice behind the door and the pounding and yelling ceased. You heard a simple knock and Adlez’s voice, “M’lady it is us, please let us in.”

You hit a button on the remote and the door opened revealing Adlez and Olivia-Rose, Kylo was looming behind them. Adlez’s face upon seeing you was a look of horror and sympathy. She and Olivia-Rose entered and Kylo tried to follow, but Adlez swiftly turned and pointed a finger into his chest. “This is no place for a man. And that very much includes you. Especially when you caused the problem now out.”

Kylo was a bit in shock at what Adlez said, he stumbled back out of the doorway. His face turned to anger and you could see his chest puff up before Adlez hit a button on the panel and shut the door in his face. And she hit another one, presumably locking it. You heard yelling and banging once more.

She quickly rushed to your side, “Now now m’lady, you are safe. Olivia-Rose and I will fix everything just you see.” They both hauled you up, helping you to the vanity.

You glanced at your reflection, your face was a mess, your eyeliner and mascara leaving streaks down your face with puffy red eyes. Your lipstick was smeared and mostly gone from your lips. Your hair was a mess, but you don’t remember ever touching it in the first place. You looked like a girl who was dumped on her prom night.

Both of them moved quickly around you. Taking down your hair, removing your makeup, putting on some weird face mask. You were hauled up once more and changed into a nightgown, one that was similar to last night. Your voice was hoarse, “But I don’t want to wear this.” More tears streamed down your face, making the face mask start to run.

“I said we would fix this, and we will. First, you must wear that and you must stop crying. Now tell us everything,” said Adlez sternly, both of them walked you to the chaise lounge.

You recalled all of the details from dinner and your questions. When you got to the part about the scavenger you could hear Adlez scoff.

“A scavenger for a lady, I think not. Especially when that lady is his match. Why are men, such idiots?” She was angry, you don’t know if it was for you or her own anger, but it made you feel minutely better. Adlez then got up and walked over to the vanity picking up a washcloth and bringing it over to you, she started to remove the face mask.

“Now m’lady if he is still out there, which I have a feeling he is, you will stand your ground. You will demand to know who this scavenger is. If he does not answer, then I want you to come back in here and call on us. We will stay with you all night. If he does not answer you will not sleep next to him. In fact, you will not sleep in his bed until he does.” She walked back over to the vanity to grab various creams and oils.

She applied them to your face and something cool to your eyes. “Remember what I said, men like pretty things in their bed, but they must know to take care of them if they want them to stay pretty. Now I have a correction to that. They must take care of them if they want pretty things to stay. I am more than prepared to spend many nights and days with you in here until he answers you.” A part of you wished you had an ounce of her conviction and confidence. He was a fool for assigning her to you. She finished applying whatever it was to your face and pulled you to stand.

She told Olivia-Rose to grab the perfume from last night, which she then sprayed you with. On either side, they joined you in front of the full-length mirror. Somehow they managed to put you back together again. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,” you mused quietly.

“Yes, but they were the king’s men, you are an empress,” said Adlez confidently. This caused a spark within you. “Now, you will go out there and show him exactly that. You are an empress and she is some dirty scavenger. You will not ask to be told what she is, you will demand it. You are an empress, now act like it.” This caused the spark to be a fire, a roaring fire.

“Head up, shoulders back,” said Adlez as she followed you to the door. You were an empress. Not a queen. Not a princess. Not just a woman. Not just a girl. And most certainly not a scavenger. You were an empress, and now you were going to claim your empire.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 4

Warnings: Language. Angst.

Just shy of 3 months had swiftly come & gone. We spent most of our days together, and the easy casualty, and effortless chemistry between us still stood firm. The whirling wind of our relationship only just picking up, and I was intently reading the blatant, yet blindly mysterious novel that was Colton Ritter. He was romantic in the brawniest of ways, always keeping a solid arm around my waist, or his wide fingers locked around my bony hands when we explored the crowded sidewalks on our outings. Or on the rare occasions he decided to sleep over, he’d never settle to sleep in any position other than nestled into my back, his warm steady breaths exhaling into my hair, & limbs locked around me. There was a period when I had to reassure myself that he did indeed know my proper name, and wasn’t just calling me ‘his girl’ every time he addressed me to cover his flighty memory.

The fight was just shy of two weeks away, give or take. Two painfully anxious, grueling weeks away. Rightfully so, Colton delicately began to isolate himself a bit, applying his metaphorical “game face” makeup, if you will. However, tonight he had promised to skip out his usual third training session of the day & let me have him to myself. I tidied the throw pillows on the sunken leather couch on my way to answer his knock, and fluffed some fingers through my hair.  

“Hey, babydoll.”

He crossed the entryway with a wet peck to my lips & dropped himself to be seated on the center cushion of my couch, kicking off the heels of his gray trainers with a grunt. How on earth a man could make a sweat stained, beat-up hoodie look like a 3-piece suit, was an enigma I’d yet to solve.

“How’s my girl?” he smiled, using two fingers to playfully seduce me to fill the empty spot next to him. I made a pit stop grabbing the remote control so I could ready the DVD I had rented for us, then plopped beside his now relaxed frame. The ‘right at home’ manner he felt at my place, made the tiny space feel all the more cozy.  

“Perfect now,” I answered with smiling satisfaction, nuzzling into the warm crook under his arm. As a woman, I never like to think of myself as weak or fragile, small even. But the way his full, sizeable arm made me feel almost like a helpless child protected in the safe space of their own little hiding spot was an exception.

We’d barely made it 10 minutes into the movie before the tongue I’d been biting to keep quiet, broke free. “How’s the training coming? Is your hand still giving you trouble?”

Earlier in the week, I’d met him at Mac’s per his request, & found him wincing as the trainer pressured his obviously swollen, irritated mitt. He brushed off my evident concern, saying he had probably just “over did it a bit,” but the trainer shot me a clandestine glance, indicating that it indeed was something I should maybe be concerned with.

“It’s all good, babe. Nothin’ to worry yourself about, honest. Relax, huh?” He held up the wounded hand, wiggling his fingers as if to prove to me he was as healthy as a horse, and pressed a kiss to my temple.

I nodded my head at the obvious lie, resisting the urge to push the issue of my growing regard for him. My silky legs tucked under me, I lifted from the couch to retrieve some popcorn from the kitchen, strategizing the best way to mind my own business would be to excuse myself from the room for a brief moment or two.

I couldn’t have made it 3 small strides in exit before I was wrangled like a farm animal from behind.

“Hey 2-1, think fast!” He declared referring to the peeling vinyl number on the back of one of my dated team sweatshirts from high school.

Not allowed a moment to resist, he pounced from his seat, captured my limber body, & heaved me over his stony shoulder, adding a saucy pat to my rump for good measure. I squealed with pleasure as he whisked me off in the direction of my bedroom, shouting giggly words of objection mixed with powerless slaps to his widespread back along the way. We entered the bedroom threshold where he chucked me atop the plush white duvet of my full-size bed, my hair bouncing and scattering across my face. My arms outstretched slackly, he situated himself above me, dangling studiously rubbing nose-to-nose with me. I closed my eyes lazily with desire, anticipating the puffy lips I knew were approaching me.

“Highlight of my day about to be what’s between those soft legs of yours, Livvy,” he purred, causing me to shiver involuntarily as his gifted hands slid toward a southern destination. The airy hairs across my bloomed skin raised on end, the grips of his fingers leaving white scraps of pressure along the way.

The moment couldn’t have been more laced with passion, and elevated craving, and yet the wandering mind of mine I often coursed for overthinking, wouldn’t slow down.

“Colt, are you sure your hand’s okay? I just wanna make sure you’re in perfect condition for Mendez. I can’t have you going into this thing if you’re not 100%, babe.”

I knew right off I had made a hasty, unsuitable move. His sculpted jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with outrage. I searched his face for the man I’d grown to know, the one who held me in such high regard, always so playful & gentle. But this was Jekyll. His pupils almost rattled with offense, and I heard his neck crack from the fuming build inside him.

“Really? I told you I’m fine, Liv. Damn it!” He scoffed, and pushed himself off me, heavy feet stomping promptly down the hall, his sock feet ruffling over the area rug. I tossed myself over the foot of the bed after him, regretfully chastising myself for the poor timing.  

“You write articles about sports. You’re not a trainer for God sakes. I said not to worry about me, & I meant it, ‘ight. Just back off!”

I barely managed to hear the muffled last three words he’d growled at me from behind the door he’d nearly breached from hinges on his way out. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he held some tendencies of fuming anger, and maybe the occasional tendency for a tantrum. There had to be a dark hole of hostility buried in his psyche, let’s be honest. The guy made a career of bashing in the face of his fellow man. But never, did I expect to see those flashes of dander thrust upon me.

 I spent two days following his outburst lost in a thick fog of muddled questioning. The independent, headstrong woman in one corner was brushing off the barefaced disrespect and hissy fit he’d thrown, advising that I didn’t deserve such, and to run away with my head held high. However, the lovesick girl in the opposing corner who just felt the desire to be valued by a good man, told me to forgive my sometimes darkly pensive partner. He was under an extensive amount of pressure to make weight, and make sure he was properly armed on every level to defeat Mendez.  So, I called a draw between my battling emotions like any indecisive twenty-something woman would do. I decided there was no way I’d go groveling for some answers since I was clearly the innocent party in the episode. But, offering to hear him out when he did show his face, seemed rational.

Arriving home from work that rainy Tuesday, spitting curses to myself when someone had swiped my front row parking spot, there he stood. I picked the dry skin from my lip, organizing my plan of attack. I couldn’t go too easy on him and run childishly right into his arms. No, I was too unwaveringly thick headed for that. Earning my forgiveness wasn’t a simple task, but it wasn’t an impossible one either. As I ascended the concrete steps closer to the looming figure pacing near my door, I noticed he was drenched. His heather gray sweatshirt, now shaded to charcoal, and his teeth gently chattered behind blotched lips.

“It’s freezing out here, crazy! God, Colton! Come inside.”

I left him standing on the doormat to retrieve a set of clothes he’d left one morning after a jog that had led him here. A tingle eased up my legs remembering the shower fiasco that had resulted from his impromptu visit.

“Here, put these on before you catch freaking pneumonia.”

He emerged from the bathroom, his dripping hair standing in all directions messily just how I liked it. “What were you doing out in the rain, Colton? Are you out of your mind?” I knew deep down realistically there probably was a part of him that indeed was, but that was beside the point.

“I ran from my place to Mac’s this mornin’, before the rain. Except I couldn’t focus on my damn session for thinkin’ about you.” He snapped in my direction, tossing his arms up in a seeming surrender.

Was he blaming me for the fact that he couldn’t train? Trying to fault me for his lack of focus?

“Look, Liv. I ain’t the type a guy who gets into much of the feelings bullshit. But, I do know that I owe you an apology for runnin’ out on you the other night… and the yellin’. I’m sorry for that, too. My pop didn’t raise me as the type ‘a man who speaks to any woman like that. I need ya’ to know that I can promise, you’ll never see that side of me again, outside of the cage. Understand?”

He hadn’t looked to me until that moment. It was almost like the little speech he had just given, was partially aimed as a smack on the wrist for himself, too. I could tell he was sincerely ashamed of his erratic behavior, and who was I to deny the forgiveness his now child-like eyes desired.

“I get it. I shouldn’t have nagged you about the hand. That part of your life is none of my business, and I swear to stay out of it.”

The last words had barely escaped me before he swooped my nervous hands into his.

“Woah woah, hold it, babe. The fighting IS your business. Sometimes, you’re prolly gonna wish it wasn’t, truthfully. That’s not at all what I meant. You’re my girl now Livvy, so anything in my life, I want you a part of. The problem is, the other night when you kept askin’ about the injury, it wasn’t that I was mad that you were concerned. It’s just, I was tryin’ my hardest to pretend it wasn’t a problem. I didn’t wanna have to face that something could’ve really been wrong with my hand, or that the fight may not happen at all because I lost my damn temper during a spar. This fight is all I got right now, ya’ know? It could be make or break for me. I thought maybe pretendin’ it wasn’t hurt, would make it go away, I guess.”

How could I not forgive him? In that intimate moment between the two of us, only the pattering of raindrops on the concrete to hear, he’d revealed himself to me. A part of himself that I had the strong inclination most people didn’t get the pleasure of knowing. I was ready to dive completely in, head first, to whatever was slowly igniting between the two of us.

My small hand embraced his now stubble lined face. “Thank you. For welcoming me into your world, and for the apology.”

He slept over that night, my last conscious memory for the evening being tucked neatly into the deep pit of his arm and dozing off into sleepy oblivion to the light strokes of his hands to my hair. Heat waves rising from his naked chest, to my own creating a pocket of comfort amid the cracks of thunder.

 I awoke at daylight with an intense stretch to be a messy, pink penned note folded in the now empty spot where he had slept, his indention left heavy next to me.

Liv,

Didn’t wanna wake you. Headed to Mac’s to have doc take a look at the hand. Good luck today. Give that shit head Mendez hell for me.

Colt

TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha