#he’s always making you get sum blue nails

[emomanswhore]

your brain might’ve just done something.

bc I’m getting my nails done soon, I might actually get Draken’s initials on them 😌

can you tell him down bad? bc I can’t ignore it.

OOOOOOOO AS YOU SHOULD NORRIII 💋💳💥💳💥 AND he should absolutely be paying for them too, i hope he didn’t sit there and just pick colors thinking he wasn’t abt to pay for the deposit, charge, AND tip

nah but fr, ken would lose his damn mind seeing the result of you getting sum pretty lil rhinestones or calligraphy on each nail. and you wanna talk abt down BAD ??? you ain’t seen nothing yet 😵‍💫 after y’all leave, he’ll still try n play it cool and say ‘your nails so pretty baby, makes you look so good right now’….

BUT when you do that thing where you run your nails on the back of his neck,,, reeaaalllllll slow so he can feel that bumpy texture of his initials on your nails- he’s folding INSTANTLY. im talking red ass ears, breathing all hard through his nose, n his leg bouncing up and down violently. yeah, ken is down bad HORRENDOUSLY n he’ll fold everytime you go n get your nails done 🤭

[kinq-sleazee]

I had a thought out request then work got busy and now all I remember is mean over protective step brother, or best friend if you don’t like pseudocest, Bakugou scaring off all your dates without you knowing and telling you how you deserve better and he would never

hello @mhathotfic my love , sorry i’m responding so late— but i’m here now with smut !

MDNI | TW! College AU, Stepcest, Degradation

Your relationship with Bakugo has always been a odd. From the day your mom moved in with his dad, he’d developed a sick little obsession with you.

Nothing got past him. He swatted away any and all suitors—with you none the wiser.

Date after date would be canceled. Messages changing from blue to green. Guys actively avoiding you on campus and you had no idea why.

It would always lead you back to his dorm room. Straddling his lap and crying on his shoulder while he rubbed your back and cursed those “extras who could never be good enough for you”.

And your suki is so sweet to you. Saying that you’re so special to him and he doesn’t understand how those idiots could treat you so bad. Claiming that anyone would be lucky to have you and whispering that sometimes he wishes that you weren’t his sister so that he could have you for himself.

And he words it like a joke, in case you get spooked, but he’s dead serious. Staring you right in the eye as you chew on your lip while playing with the strands at the nape of his neck.

You’re a little shocked but you get it. It makes sense, y’know ? Who could love you better than the boy that’s protected and cared for you since middle school? The man that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

He blinks twice when he hears you little voice say, “m’not really your sister”. Lips curling over his teeth in a wicked sneer.

“Hah?” He raises a brow, hands slowly falling to rest at your waist. “What’s that ? You’re not my imouto? My sweet girl ?”

Bakugo rolls his hips experimentally, pleased with the exasperation huff you give at the brief contact.

“m’just sayin’, we’re not really brother and sister” you whine, face heating at the implication of your words.

Were you really suggesting this ? Are you so desperate that you’d stoop so low ?

Bakugo feigned a gasp. A pout formed on his lips that juxtaposed the glimmering lust in his eyes.

“So after all we’ve been through…”, he began, hands traveling under your skirt to rest on your bare thighs. “After all we’ve been through. I’m not really your brother because you really want some dick ?”

The vulgarity startled you. You tried to deny but it fell on deaf ears as his fingers ventured closer to your moist heat.

“Are you really getting wet on my lap ?” His face is stern but there’s amusement in his tone. Your ears burn at the accusation, which you vehemently deny. This time your denial is met with a mean pinch to your plush thigh. “Now you’re lying to me ? What’s got into you What happened to my good girl ?”

A broken whimper leaves you. You’ve never felt this desperate for anything. You want to be a good girl but you just want him so bad.

“ I am your good girl, suki. I promise”.

“Tch” Bakugo shakes his head, admiring the way your lip trembles when he pinches you harder. “You’re not a good girl” he coos, moving closer to kiss the tear sliding down your cheek. “You’re a whore, imouto. A desperate slut for nii-chan’s cock”.

Your panties are pulled to the side and a single digit swipes through the mess of slick arousal. Bakugo whistles lowly, dragging your sticky wetness to press at your clit.

“Is this what you wanted, baby” He pouts up at you, mimicking your expression. You nod, nails digging into the skin of his broad shoulders.

“More, suki” you whine, grinding against the pad of his thumb. “wan’ sum more please”.

He shushes you and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Then another. And another until his tongue is pushing through the seam of your lips in time with his finger diving knuckle deep into your cunt. He grunts at your tightness, but continues kissing you while working you open.

The flat of his tongue collects the sweat beading on your neck, just as a second finger enters you. He curls them upwards, rubbing against your velveteen walls.

“Taking my fingers real good, baby. So proud of you right now” he whispers in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. You gush around him, pussy spasming from the ruined quality of his voice as he praises you. The fact that he looks absolutely wrecked, and you haven’t even touched him properly sends you hurtling towards your orgasm. A few more pumps and you’re met with the most euphoric orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

He works you through it. Pumping into you slowly as your body vibrates around him and your breathing settles. He pulls out and taps his fingers on your lips, humming when you drunkenly take them in your mouth.

He keeps you like this for a moment. Just rubbing against your tongue until saliva pools in your mouth and spills from the side.

Bakugo knows that you’re getting working up again by the cute little scrunch of your brow and the way you drag your cunt over his thigh. So desperate to get fucked. His dick feels unbreakable.

With his free hand he pulls out his cock and lowers your head to drool on it. You’re pushed off his lap and placed between his legs. Mean cock bobbing in your face.

“If you want nii-chan to fuck you , then you have to get on your knees and beg”.

[creepypastasomethingsomething]

~~~The Victorian Ghost~~~

Prologue

I know that this is on Quotev, but I thought that I would also publish it here.

TW: Blood, corpses

January 21st, 1853

Where's (Y/N)?

Where's (Y/N)?

Where's (Y/N)?

Questions about where you were were asked constantly by people at the Lavigne mansion. Your parents, William and Flora Lavigne, were starting to get a little annoyed at everyone asking where their eldest child was. You were supposed to be at the party, but you weren't. So where were you exactly? You were popular with the people in town, always helping, being nice and even volunteering to help make an orphanage, which was needed in town. Your mother looked around the ballroom and her eye twitched as she saw no sign of you anywhere. You weren't talking to anyone, you weren't drinking, and you weren't dancing.

"(Jacques, go find your sister.)"

She shot a look at your younger brother who was standing next to her with a wine glass in his hand.

"(What? Why me?)"

"(Because Henry is.....somewhere and you do as I say. I'm you're mother and I'm telling you to look for your sister."

Jacques glared at his mother as he put his half empty wine glass on the table next to him and walked away, muttering something under his breath. He walked pass all the people, pushing some away until he reached the mansion's doors and pushed them open, walking outside into the cold, dark, snowy night.

.

.

.

The night was cold, wind blowing and whistling across the land, tree leaves snapping in the wind. The snow fell fast in the darkness, making large blankets of white that covered the forest ground and all the trees and all the house rooftops in town. The forest was quiet except for the sounds of crickets and the forest creatures. The wooded area seemed peaceful, a beautiful place to have a walk in or have a small, little snug home; a place where you could feel calm and safe; a place where you could somehow feel at home.

Not for you.

Near the cemetery at the edge of the forest, lied two women, blood surrounding their cold, limp and lifeless bodies and staining the snow red. The first woman was laying on her stomach, eyes closed and mouth open, lips chapped and pink. Her wavy strawberry blonde hair was in her face and had dead leaves stuck it it. She had a light pink evening dress on, the skirt puffy and frilly; the sleeves short and a couple inches away from her elbows and off her shoulders. Her throat was slit and she had several stab wounds on her back and although you couldn't see it, her stomach.

The second woman was laying on her side, her legs apart from each other and one arm out and the other a bit bent while touching the straight one. Her eyes, unlike the first one, were wide open; the (E/C) color a bit hazy and dead. Her (H/T) (H/C) hair was down and messy, a bit wet from the snow, dead leaves tangled in it. Her mouth was open and a large sum of blood was dripping out of it; it looked fresh but seemed to be drying fast like how the blood was with the first woman. The woman on her side had Ten? Fifteen? Twenty stab wounds? Who could know? She had many stab wounds on her stomach that led up her abdomen and there was one deep wound where her heart was, blood leaking in the fabric of her dress. The dress she was wearing was a bit puffy and like the other woman's, way frilly. Instead of being a pink color, it was a shade of deep blue and was long sleeved; the sleeves also were off of the shoulders. On her hands were a pair of black fingerless gloves showing her fingers whose nails had dirt and blood in and on them.

Her face was beaten; she had a black eye and many bruises and bloody cuts all over.

The two women were very obviously murdered by someone and it looked brutal. A struggle must have happened with both of them. The snow around them were disturbed and there were no footprints; it seemed like the two bodies were moved from inside of the forest somewhere.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Open your eyes...

.

.

Open...

.

.

.

Please......

.

.

.

.

Please don't leave me...

Your eyes shot open wide as you breathed heavily, your chest rising up and down quickly. You couldn't stop stop your rapid breathing as you felt a stinging sensation in your chest and throat, as if you were drowning in a deep pool of cold darkness. Your eyes were looking in every direction as you saw a space like world around you; stars everywhere and a bright light coming up ahead. But you couldn't move. Even when you tried your hardest, you couldn't move as the burning and stinging got worse. You were positioned on your back and looked stiff like a soldier.

Were you dead?

Were you going to go to Heaven?

Was Heaven the bright light?

What's happening? You thought.

no.

No.

NO!

The light was going further away!

You wanted to scream and shout but your mouth wouldn't open and let you at least try to. You were panicking and let yourself watch as the stars and light were leaving and you felt a coldness surround you and it suddenly felt like you were falling!

BAM!

It was all gone. The light. The stars. The horrible stinging and burning feeling you felt. In fact, you didn't even feel pain. You expected yourself to feel the horrible pain of all your wounds but it wasn't there. You attempted to move your fingers. You could move them. You could move your whole body!

Yes!

You could finally move!

But, wait....

"(What?)" You got up quick and put your hands on your knees to help yourself. When you finally stood up, you put your arms out and your legs felt like jelly. You fell but felt no pain. You groaned and looked back and screamed.

It was you.

Well, more like your body. You put a hand on your mouth and shuffled away as you saw your lifeless body lying in the snow and a pool of your own blood. Then you saw Fay. You didn't know how to feel as many different emotions swept your mind. You felt like you were starting to cry but no tears came out and you just sat there, imagining your own salty tears running down your face. You gulped and felt something in your chest as you started to get up and fall back down. You tried a couple more times until you got the hang of it.

Then, you let out a blood curdling scream mixed with sadness, anger and fear. You started to cry with no tears and fell to your knees, heartbroken. You cried and cried and cried. You cried for yourself and cried for Fay. How would her family react? Her mother would probably cry in her husbands arms as he comforted his spouse and her brother would demand who did this to his baby sister. Then came your family.

Your parents would probably scoff and say how much they were disappointed in you and your two younger brothers would probably not care. At least, that's what your vision was. A family who thought you were a burden would be happy you were gone.

You looked at your hands and hiccupped, getting up and wiping them on your bloody dress and looked at them again to only see no blood was on them. The blood was from Fay's body that was tossed at you by...... that bitch Sarah. You growled as anger suddenly overcome you and you stomped over to a tree and punched it. Well, you tried. You went straight though the tree and fell on your stomach. You eyes twitched as you let out an angry yell, pulling on your hair and shaking your head. You did this from about a minute until you calmed yourself down.

And at that moment, you swore, you swore to haunt Sarah. You and Fay's killer.

You swore that you would haunt her and if she had any children, when they were old enough, you would haunt them too and for until the family is no more, you would haunt every generation. Every generation would feel your anger and would feel fear. Even if they thought they were away, they would not escape you.

And that's just what you would do.

[bambinella]

Day 6 - Hiding

Critical Role - Jester x friends

A/N: I've never written about the Mighty Nein before, and I'm aware this is a crime. Therefore I decided to change that now because I don't wanna go to jail. Enjoy!

“Hey, have you seen my blue ribbon? You know, the one I put on my staff?” Beau said as she walked into the living room of the Xorhaus. Fjord looked up and shook his head.

“Can’t say I have. When was the last time you saw it?” He asked, earning an eye-roll from the monk, as if he’d asked the dumbest question ever.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you,” She retorted, earning a chuckle from him. She had a point.

“Come to think of it, I was looking for my captain’s hat this morning too. I haven’t touched it in a while, but I’m sure I left it in my room and didn’t move it someplace else,” He said, rubbing his beard with his thumb. Beau raised an eyebrow at that, leaning her shoulder against the door frame.

“Some of the trinkets I put in my hair are also missing,” Yasha suddenly piped up from where she was reading, momentarily startling Beau and Fjord. Sometimes she was so quiet he would forget she was there to begin with.

“Okay one item missing is fine, but two or three things from different people missing at the same time? Now that’s suspicious,” Beau commented. A smile slowly spread on Fjord’s face.

“I think I have an idea where our items went. Follow me, ladies,” He said. The three of them went towards Jester’s room, and he gently knocked twice on the door.

“Come in~!” The familiar voice sang from inside, prompting them to enter the room. Jester sat on her bed and was busy sketching as usual, looking up as she saw the trio. Her eyes brightened at the sight of her friends, yet Fjord could also see a twinkle of mischief in them. He knew that twinkle all too well.

“Oh hey there Jester, what have you been up to?” He asked with a smile, folding his arms as he slowly walked up to the bed. Jester closed her book and sat up straight, looking at them with a big grin.

“Oh you know, the usual! Drawing tiny dicks, chatting with the Traveler,...” She summed up, her tail moving across the bed. Beau seemed to catch on where Fjord was going with this, standing next to him as she smirked.

“Some of our items have gone missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, right?” She questioned, and Fjord noticed how Jester’s smile grew a little.

“Beau! Are you accusing me?” Jester gasped playfully while putting a hand on her chest, earning another eye-roll from the monk.

“Actually I am, because you’re not answering my question. Did you take our stuff, Jes?” Beau questioned again, taking a step closer while putting her hands on her hips. Jester huffed. “I have NO idea what you’re talking about Beau! Maybe you should take better care of you– hey!” She squealed when the human suddenly reached forward and jabbed several times all over her torso. Now Fjord had seen Beau stun many enemies during their travels, and those hits always seemed very precise and to hurt quite a bit. But with how much Jester was giggling, he figured that these jabs probably tickled a lot. Beau’s hands were weapons in multiple ways, he realized with a shiver.

“Well what are you waiting for? Get her!” Beau said as she straddled Jester’s lap. Fjord crawled onto the bed and trapped her in a tight hug, which made both Jester and him blush, and Yasha sat herself down on her shins.

“Beheheau! That was mehehean!” Jester protested with a wide smile as her movement returned, looking into the brunette’s eyes. Fjord grinned and placed his chin on the tiefling’s shoulder.

“Last chance, Jester. Where did you put our things?” He questioned, his breath tickling the shell of her pointy ear. She let out a squeal and moved her head, and he had to avoid getting stabbed by one of her horns.

“You’ll never make me talk!” She declared, no longer playing dumb as she stuck out her tongue at them. It was all the confirmation they needed. Beau reached forward and scribbled her nails over Jester’s stomach, making her throw her head back with a loud squeal. She instinctively reached forward to stop Beau’s hands, yet found herself stuck as Fjord used his arms to hold her’s away from her body.

“Oh is that so?” Fjord asked teasingly, sending a shiver down her spine as he gently rubbed his beard against her neck, which sent her in another fit of giggles.

“Fjohohohord stohohohop! Thahahahat’s cheheheating!” She shrieked, scrunching up her shoulders to hide her neck. As playful and mischievous as she was, Jester was reeeeally bad at handling tickles. And it was, of course, the group’s favorite way of punishing her for all the pranks she pulled on them. And they all knew it was her favorite way too, so they had compassion right now.

“You can easily make this end Jes,” Beau grinned, playfully jabbing between her ribs with a single finger. Each poke got a squeal from their blue friend, and Fjord had to use all his might to keep her arms trapped.

“Whehehere’s the fun in thahaha– OHOHO! OHOHO YASHA NOHOHOHOO!!” Jester suddenly cried out, making Fjord and Beau look up at their friend. Yasha had casually reached back with one hand and was gently tickling along Jester’s toes, giving them a shrug.

“What? She looks like she’s having fun,” She said, a sly smile playing on her lips. Fjord suppressed the urge to shiver again. But she was right, Jester was having fun.

“It looks like Yasha is winning by making her laugh the hardest, you better amp it up a little,” Fjord teased, causing Beau to playfully grumble and glare at him. Her hands moved up and started fluttering under Jester’s arms, eliciting a shriek of laughter from the tiefling.

“EEHEHEHEE! OHOHOHO GUHUYS STOHOHOHOHOP!” Jester cried out, shaking her head side to side, a blush covering her cheeks. Beau chuckled and merely shook her head.

“Now we all know you don’t really mean that,” She teased, noticing how Jester’s tail had been wagging side to side on the bed, just like Nugget when he was excited. This only caused her to blush harder, the teasing and the tickles really getting to her.

“Now if you really want it to stop, you just need to tell us where the it– hey!” Fjord protested as he got interrupted by a sneaky tail prodding at his side. He returned the favor by blowing a raspberry on her neck. 

“AHAHAHAHAA! OKAY OKAAY OKAHAHAY!” Jester finally cried out – the raspberry and Yasha continuously tickling her toes had been enough to make her give in – and they immediately stopped, giving her a well-deserved break.

“Well?” Yasha asked with a raised brow, playfully wiggling one of her big toes. Jester squealed at the playful threat, giggling softly.

“They’re under my bed,” She relented and sat up as Fjord released her from the hug. Beau dropped on the floor and retrieved the ‘stolen’ items, ruffling Jester’s hair afterwards. Fjord was pretty sure he heard her say ‘little gremlin’, yet due to Jester’s loud giggles he wasn’t sure. When both Yasha and Beau left the room, he tilted his head.

“Why did you take our items, exactly?” He asked, actually curious for the reason. Jester would often prank them, but not usually multiple people at the same time. She shrugged.

“Everyone seemed a little more gloomy recently, so I wanted to prank you guys to cheer you up!” She declared with a smile, and while it seemed a very reasonable explanation, Fjord knew there was more to it by the look in her eyes. He could tell that rather than cheer them up, she had been needing some cheering up for her own. As playful and happy as she was, even she needed a laugh from time to time, especially in these times. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

“You know I’m here for you right?” He blurted out before he could stop himself, and he could feel his cheeks heating up a little. Jester looked at him with a soft smile, before nodding.

“Of course Fjord!” She declared. He smiled at that.

“And you know I’m gonna tickle you to death the next time you touch my hat, right?” As expected she started giggling.

“Of course!” She said again, this time with a wide grin. He chuckled.

“Good. Because I haven’t forgiven you yet, and you have about five seconds to run away before I get my hands on you,” He said with a smirk. Jester’s eyes widened as she squealed, immediately hopping off of the bed to dash out of the room. He grinned and didn’t even bother to wait five seconds to chase her, because if he was really honest?

Her laughter brightened his day.

[midmorning-bomb]

Rules:  Give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits, Most kudos, Most comments, Most bookmarks, Most words, and Least words.

Tagged by @meggie-stardust, thank you for still tagging me even though I'm like nailing jello to a wall with these ❤️

Most Hits: Everything goes (wow) | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 21,218 hits It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle. 2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract. 3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

2nd Most Kudos: Born to Lose | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 2,208 kudos “Talia, this engagement was D.O.A. Surely you can build one alliance without a sham marriage.”

Most Comments: Trust No Man | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 303 comments Peter feels the edges of panic crawling under his skin as his own blue eyes begin to change and flicker. He shoves the corpse away, pushing back to lean against a tree. The rain is pounding harder, already washing away the blood. He struggles to catch his breath as he feels the bonds inside snapping and changing. He barks out a laugh that sounds like a sob. But feels like freedom.

4th* Most Bookmarks: Play Out | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 418 bookmarks Stiles shows up one Friday night to a freshly dumped (and definitely not freshly showered) Derek. In one hand he has three hot pizzas, and in the other he juggles a six pack of ironically-named IPA and a plastic bag with all nine Hellraiser movies. Stiles waggles his eyebrows while doing a weird wiggle back and forth from his shoulders down to his mismatched sneakers. “We’re going to eat this pizza and drink this beer and watch these shitty movies until you feel less bad.”

Derek is actually touched, and feels a small smile attempting to form, until Stiles continues with another wiggle, “You’re not really my type, but I’ll even make out with you a little and let you cop a feel up on this if you want. You know, get your groove back.”

Derek sighs, but lets him in anyway.

*Because the top three are listed above. (Trust No Man: 888, Born to Lose: 750, Everything goes (wow): 606)

Most Words: Trust No Man | Peter/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 17,430 words

Least Words: Lover/Soldier | Chris/Stiles | Teen Wolf | 485 words So Chris starts to wander. Walks around a nearby park, through the church and cemetery oddly located between a line of shops and tall condo buildings. Past the good dim sum place, by the pilates gym with the too-perky staff always handing out flyers for free trials of their barre classes. And finally into The Lost Little Library, Used Books. It smells like the most peaceful moments in his childhood, the paper-dust-quiet scent of the books in his mother’s studio.

Or, it would be peaceful, if the kid behind the counter would ever shut up.

tagging: Anyone who would like to do a little self-promotion! Share your stuff! Tag me so I can read them, too!

[ryoki-neko]

Deep in the Heart of Texas

Round 1- Texas Pride

If a man's from Texas, he'll tell you. If he's not, why embarrass him by asking? ~ John Gunther

Today I am going to tell y’all a little bit about my home state, as any Texan, born or naturalized, is bound to do when they are subjected to the grievous insult “What’s so great about Texas?" You might as well have slapped us across the face with your glove! Congratulations my friend, you have now set yourself up for a lifetime subscription to Texas: It’s Wonderful and Here’s Why! 🤣

So, how did all this start? Well, it could be my fault. I was listening to an interview with my favorite fellow Texan (outside of actual family and friends of course) Jaren Lewison. On I'm So Obsessed the interviewer, Patrick Holland, asked him if he preferred Dallas, his hometown or LA, where he is living now. OF COURSE he said Dallas. Holland seems truly baffled and asks him why. "Wait how come?" And Jaren has to explain! He very nicely explains that he is a Texas boy (duh!) It's his home, his friends are there, his family is there, his sports teams are there. IT'S TEXAS, he's a TEXAN. Come on Holland, it is KNOWN.

This was around about 23 minutes. I was highly offended on his behalf and made it known. “How dare he ask a Texan if he prefers somewhere else over Texas!” You just don't DO that!

This inevitably led to questions like “What is the deal with Whataburger? He is obsessed with it." and “What’s so special about Whataburger, why do you Texas like it so much?”. Oh friends, let me tell you, I could do a whole blog just on what is so special about Whataburger, more on that later. Also, why Texas BBQ is superior. Or perhaps why breakfast tacos are the best breakfast cuisine.🤣 no, not breakfast burritos, tacos! 🌮.

At that point it was fairly benign. Re-x left it with an “Oh you Texans and your inexplicable obsession with your home state.” But it grew. This is Re-x now.

She is always asking me what’s so great about Texas? Why are we so proud of our state? And can you really blame her when you look at the political situation going on there? We’ll get into that too. But this blog is about Texas Pride.

And why do we like football so much! What the hell?

So, let's start with where we get all this pride.

Quite simply, it's bred into us from a young age.

We learn songs like Texas our Texas, Deep in the Heart of Texas and yes, the Yellow Rose of Texas. We say the state pledge in school along with the US pledge. Es la ley. When I was little I got one of those weaving looms for kids. What did I make? A Dallas Cowboy's sweater for my teddy bear. Blue and silver. If you don't want to read all this though, this poem pretty much sums it up.

Local History

When I was a little girl I went to the Fandangle for the first time. It's an outdoor musical put on by the people of Albany, Texas.

The play tells the story of Fort Griffin, an 1867 military post. Below the fort, along the Clear Fork of the Brazos, a a river I grew up swimming in, a town grew. Western Cattle Trail drivers, ranchers, and Buffalo Hunters, cowboys from South Texas all met up there to gamble and drink including Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday.

Look at these cute little performers and tell me you don't believe we learn early to love Texas!

Below are a few more pictures from the Fandangle. The oldest outdoor musical in Texas happens every summer, the last two weeks of June.

The performers are locals, required to live in, own property or have a familial connection Shackleford County.

The creator of the Fandangle, Robert Nail, was a young playwright from the area who attended Princeton University and studied under Thornton Wilder

And of course it wouldn't be complete without the gorgeous Texas Longhorns

Source: Knight, Paul. "Singin' on the Range". Texas Monthly August, 2013. Photos: Artie Limmer

Six Flags of Texas

It wasn't just a theme park we went to in the summer. It was an opportunity to teach us about one of the unique things about Texas history. Texas wasn't always under the Lone Star.

Flag 1: The Republic of Texas

 "Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession. Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word.. . . A Texan outside of Texas is a foreigner." John Steinbeck

One of the first things we learn about our great state is that once upon a time it was a it's own country! Texas was an independent nation from 1836 to 1845 and was admitted to the Union on December 29, 1845 as a territory, another unique characteristic. The Anglos residing in Texas at that time were referred to as Texians.

The Battle of Gonzales, an October 2nd 1835 skirmish, sparked the Texas Revolution when the Texian colonist in the city refused to give back the small cannon to a detachment of Mexican soldiers. It had been provided to them for protection from Native Americans but they now wanted to use it to protect themselves from General Santa Anna. After that skirmish, the famous "Come and Take It" flag was created by Sarah Seely DeWitt and her daughter, Evaline, from Noami DeWitt's wedding dress. It has become a Hallmark of Texas pride.

The Battle of the Alamo occurred during the Texas Revolution as well. The thirteen day siege took place between February 23 and March 06, 1836 at the Alamo mission in San Antonio, Texas. While the Texians were defeated, it was a turning point in the Revolution. Mexican troops led by Santa Anna reclaimed the Alamo and killed most of the occupants inside. However, Santa Anna's refusal to take prisoners during the battle inspired many Texian immigrants and Tejanos to join the Texian Army. Soon after Texians defeated the Mexican Army at the Battle of San Jacinto, on April 21, 1836.

The defenders of the Alamo came from around 30 different identified states or countries and several were unidentified or uncertain. These include Germany, England, Ireland and Scotland. Tennessee had the largest contingent with 29. Virginia, Pennsylvania, South Carolina and Kentucky also had large contingents. And of course, Spanish/Mexican Texas. Some of the casualties of the battle include Davy Crocket of Tennessee who was 49 years old, James Bowie of Virginia who was 40 years old and William B. Travis of South Carolina who who was the 26 year old commander during the siege. While the legend of the line drawn in the sand with his sword is unproven, the Victory or Death letter is certainly not a myth.

Commandancy of the The Alamo

Bejar, Feby. 24th. 1836

To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World-

Fellow Citizens & compatriots-

I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna - I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man - The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken - I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls - I shall never surrender or retreat.  Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch - The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days.  If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country - Victory or Death.

William Barret Travis.

Flags 2-5 Spain, France, Mexico, Confederate States, United States

Spanish 1519-1685, French 1685-1690, Spanish 1690-1821, Mexican 1821-1836, United States 1845-1861, Confederate States 1861-1865, United States 1865-present

And yep, that's pretty much how we see it. lol.

But seriously, the history here is pretty fascinating and certainly helps one understand the culture and diversity of Texas. Particularly our Spanish and Mexican heritage. We are not just a state with a large Hispanic population. It is a foundational aspect of our culture. (more on the culture and diversity of Texas later)

But let's talk real quick about that whole, 'Texas can secede" thing. No, Texas cannot secede. It is true that Texas is the only state to enter the United States by treaty instead of territorial annexation and part of that agreement permits division into as many as five states without federal approval. Pretty cool right? But does Texit really have any chance of happening? Texit ain't gonna happen y'all.

But just for fun, here is a clip from Bernie about the 5 different "states" within Texas. No offense to you snobs with your Mercedes up in Dallas from this Liberal fruitcake from the People's Republic of Austin.

Coming soon: "What's so great about Texas?" including food, art and literature, culture and some general trivia--Did you know the Capital building in Austin is built from Texas granite and is also the largest state capital building in the US? It's beautiful y'all. I know you can't wait...

[thegreatwicked]

Call Me Love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More like an angel,”

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

"Yeah, she's kinda cute."

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

She's gorgeous. 

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

"You got a chat-up line?"

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

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

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

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

With Jeff, you never know for sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happens to the best of us.

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

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

"Oi, you darlin's fancy any tunes?”

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

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

"How 'bout some Queen?" 

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

"You got it, darlin', which one?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birds love that little trick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the good life.

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

Need to find out her name.

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

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

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

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

Bet you are.

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

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

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

"Cheers for that, love," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like a drum kit?"

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

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

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

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

"Ben."

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

"Ta, darlin’."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You think I'm gorgeous?" 

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

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

"Oh yeah? What kind of naughty thoughts?"

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

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

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

"Got a girl?" 

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

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

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

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

"Nope." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Seattle,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say what now?

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

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

Hang on, what?

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

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

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

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

"What are your twenties for?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've got her hooked now.

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

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

"Yours or mine?"

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

"Let's make some music together."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's more like it.

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

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

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

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

“Find something you fancy?”

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

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

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

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

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

"I’m not known for being patient," 

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

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

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

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

"You spot a collar 'round me?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That got her attention, didn’t it?

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

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

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

"Like eight months."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben..!" 

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

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

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

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

"Deal?" 

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

"Good girl." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that's no fun, is it?  

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

"Got you all worked up, do I?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God Ben!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good girl," 

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

Hell, they’re both pretty bloody good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Close your eyes, Ben." 

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

"Ben?" 

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

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

"Tell me what you like." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lick." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tell me what you want,"

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

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

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

"Fuck… Kit—!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I never want it to stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin’ hell, I love you!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That was bleeding amazing," 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Or what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, my God!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not greedy."

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

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

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

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

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

Baby. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben?"

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

"Do something for me?"

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

"In front of the mirror." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck,”

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

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

"Holy shit, Kit," 

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head, "IUD." 

"Good fuckin’ girl," 

"Tell me how much you want me, Ben.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Promise, I'll be your good girl!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m your bad girl,” 

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

Alright, sweetheart, I’ll play along. 

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

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

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

“–Fuck! –Fuck! –Fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

"Alright, love?" 

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

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

"Fuck, I needed that." 

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

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

"Too late." Cheeky minx.

"You gonna tell me your name, now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben, are you serious?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A date?"

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

"You'd meet my dad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kit,"

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

"Cassandra."

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

"I'm stubborn too."

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

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

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

“Call me Love.”

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

[helpinghanikan]

Moon knight: sleep tight

Moon knight/Steven Grant/Marc Specter x reader (smut)

Sum: When waking up in his alter's bed, with his alter's girl, Marc has to get you back to sleep to make his escape. There is only one way to do that properly...

AN: A quick blurb between reader, Steven Grant and an unknown Marc Specter. Wrote this quickly without really thinking after the second episode. So not edited and not really thought out.

Also, I'm aware Moon Knight isn't the best representation of DID. That being said; I'm writing based on the context of the show.

Your relationship with Steven can best be described as sporadic. Mainly talking through texts, a phone call every now and then. Every blue moon you can arrange a lunch meet up or dinner after work. It took planning and rescheduling to get this date in place.

Around seven you broke new ground by coming to his apartment to meet. Before it’s always been at your place or ‘neutral ground’ of a coffee shop or restaurant.

He opened the door at your first knock. Likely waiting by the door but you’d never call him out on it. Especially when he looks at you like that with a smile that couldn’t typically be found during his day to day. Instead you simply say; “Hi.”

“Hi, uh, come in!” His arm motions towards his apartment in a grand gesture.

There were no hard plans laid out for the night. Steven had made dinner and you brought desert, both of which were finished within the hour. Steven only chewing faster when you made the joke about “the cobblers’ not the only dessert on the menu.”

He still had the wide-eyed look when you came around the table.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, innocently.

“Of course, Love. Of course.” He says and closes the distance to a kiss.

You laugh between the kisses. “Bloody hell,” You say, mocking his accent. Hand sliding down his chest.

Steven stops to look at you. “Actually, since we’re in England, you’re the one with the accent.”

Your hand reaches its destination between his legs. “I’m also the one your cock is gonna be inside of.” You say as if you weren’t the one to start the conversation.

His kisses are more rapid pecks than full on making out. He stands from the table to start moving. Holding your face with both hands, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks. One sliding to the back of your neck as if you may slip away like a dream.

He keeps some kind of hold on you before, during and after sex. Hold your face and breasts at the beginning. When he lays down on the bed he insists on at least one hand intertwining with yours when you ride. Little dents from dull fingers nails can be found on your back when he cums. Holding you so close you may as well be apart of him.

The cuddling only stays that way for a few minutes before he’s up and moving.

You didn’t want to be presumptuous in spending the night, but both of you were thinking it before you even arrived. That you brought a little travel toothbrush meant nothing. What did mean something was how he went about his nightly routine in front of you.

Blue tape on the door, feeding Gus, and walking a circle around the bed with a little pallet of dirt. He looks at you with what can only be called embarrassment. He had told you about his disorder, about his routine, and about everything. But having you be there while all this is being done was a whole other ball game.

You tried to do your own routine while he does his. Brushing your teeth. Taking meds. Putting on your t-shirt and pajama pants. All that before getting back into the bed. Flipping open whatever book was closest in reach. Of course it was something about Egyptology. Not the worst subject but Steven could have told you everything you’d ever want to know about it better than a book could.

“Would you like some water or pop or…?” Steven says, finishing his circle of sand.

“A spot of tea?” You ask, using the mocking accent again.

Steven stops his short walk towards the kitchen. Turning back around towards the bed.

“Well now you’re not getting anything.” He says, the bed dipping as he climbs back in. “Nothing at all.”

Of course you got something later on that night.

Steven sleeps facing you, his arms around your back, holding you firmly. To retaliate your leg was placed firmly on his hip. Come summer, when things heat up in a whole different way, you’ll probably have to find a new to cuddle.

You’re stirred awake in the wee hours of the morning by Steven’s shifting. Softly touching your arms to try and unwrap them from his neck. Out of instinct you pull him closer, getting a groan out of him when he’s pulled tight.

With your leg still around his hip it’s impossible to ignore the erection pressing against your core. It brings your own groan that stops all of Steve’s movements.

“Mmm, mornin’.” You whisper, nuzzling closer.

“Hey…Baby.” He replies.

His voice is laced with sleep but it’s different in another way. Your hands cup his face, rubbing over his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. He’s looking around your face when you kiss him softly.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He says, moving his leg and a distinct jingle in heard.

He leans up and over to the chain around his ankle. You taking the chance to stretch with all the extra room. Glancing at the clock and finding it to be barely three in the morning.

Sitting up with him you press against his back. A hand on either of his forearms while you kneeled up to kiss his neck. He doesn’t respond to your attention until the chain is completely off. Turning his head towards you and catching your mouth in a kiss.

“Where you going?” You asked.

His hand covers one of yours on his forearm. Thinking for a second before talking.

“Nowhere, Staying right here with you.” He says. Turning around to take you into another, deeper, kiss.

His kisses were harder, like biting onto your lips. It pushed you down until you’re flat on your back. Steven becoming more aggressive as his hands slide up under your shirt. His hands are cold when they each cup and grip your breasts.

Although his grip is hard and your hips are pushing up against him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Gripping his hair and tugging it until he looks up at you.

“You’re American accent is bloody brilliant.” You say, mocking his original accent while doing so.

His eyebrows tilt ever so slightly but quickly return to normal. “Been practicing.” He says, the British accent barely making an appearance.

You laugh again and he kisses again. He so suddenly and with enough force that you moan at the dominance pressing you into the bed. Only lasting long enough for his hand to find the back of your thighs and turning you right over.

It’s been near impossible to find this level of…aggression out of Steven. He’s usually the gentle sort. Who kisses kindly and asks permission to squeeze your ass. Only once had you done it from behind, Steven explaining that he liked seeing your face. When he did take you like this, on all fours and facing away, he stayed pressed to your back. Refusing to get any further away then was needed to penetrate properly.

“Love the excitement but can we-oh.” Your request for more foreplay was interrupted by his tongue.

Spreading your thighs wide Steven delved into your pussy like a starving man. Flat tongue sliding between your lips and to your entrance. Without hesitation he penetrates with tongue and finger, not giving you enough time to think let alone breathe.

All you had time to do was lean forward into the bed. Face down, ass up that you had yet to experience with Steven.

“Steven…” You whispered and he heard. Going faster with his fingers until the room was almost echoing with the wet sound of your pussy getting the appreciation it deserved.

How could the man last this long without air? There was no point in asking, so long as he kept going. Especially when the abuse on your entrance is matched with three fingers sliding slopping circles over your clit.

Attention and spit and movements created cool feelings through your legs and arms. It built behind your pelvis. Growing and growing with your moans and thanks and calling of Steven’s name. It pressed your face into the bedsheets with an open mouth. Gasping out and wanting more but not able to ask the right question.

Instead of asking you used what little willpower you could manage. Supporting your torso with one arm while the other reached back to those dark brown locks. Tangling them in your fingers and pulling.

The fingers inside are gone. They grab the wrist holding his hair and force you to let go.

“Stay down,” He ordered, only continuing when you resume the position.

The pleasure and pressure builds again as his three fingers become two. Sliding through your soaked lips to massage your clit more precisely. His tongue leaving your hole as he kisses one cheek. And then the other. Deciding which side would be better before biting onto the left.

This definitely wasn’t normal Steven behavior, not that you were complaining at the moment. Making a sound that can only be compared to an animal when he bit down.

The orgasm wasn’t an explosion behind your eyes or a fire in your belly. It was a cold celebration that squeezed out into your arms and legs. It rocked with his fingers until you were whining into the bed, reaching back to warn him that you were already spent.

He doesn’t caress your back or ask how you are like before. He retracts from your body. Only his hand on your backside remained. That only doing so to guide you over and onto your side.

“Shit…” you said, as what else was to say?

“Go to sleep,” he said, that one hand staying until you unintentionally obeyed.

You slept for at least three hours. Long enough for Steven to take his place back at your side. Long enough for your pajama pants to become annoying around your ankles. And long enough for Steven to jolt awake. Something he apologizes for every time. This time being no different.

“It’s okay,” You mumbled, pulling him back down to your arms. “Last night is gonna make it okay for a while, babe.”

“I do make a good dinner.” He says, nuzzling into your embrace.

[astralwaifu]

omg i liked your writing so much!!!! if it's not a problem,could you do the same with shiggy but the reader has a nullifying quirk so shigaraki's quirk doesn't work on her/them and they hug at the end? have a nice day!!!

Ithank you so much moots!!!! I am really happy you enjoyed it! (Also sorry it took so much to answer your ask, I've had quite a lot of exams recently, but it's over now and I nailed them - like 90%)

Also check the Dabi one right here!

Shigaraki with a nullifying quirk! Reader - platonic

genre: fluff, angst and sum crack

wc: 1.1k

warnings: language probably

a/n: ngl, I teared up a lil while writing. I love Shigaraki sm and this request was literal heaven. I just enjoy writing that crusty ass. Requests-open!(I also want to try doing song fics, so ask ahead)

"Who upset you?" you hear his coarse voice ask.

You looked up at the blue haired male who was towering over where you sat on the floor curled in a ball of sorrow and pity. Glass like tears were falling down your hot cheeks.

"Who?" he harshly repeated.

"Dabi."

Shigaraki stomped away, rushing to the bar, you following quietly behind him. He took such big steps, that it almost seemed like he was flying to the room.

A burning feeling filled his chest as he approached the said man that made you cry. No warning, no reaction time from the others, Tomura grabbed the bar stool that Dabi was sitting on, pressing strongly with all 5 fingers on it. The dark haired man fell loudly on the floor hitting himself when he lost his balance.

He was now looking with a confused, outraged look in his wide bright blue eyes at Shigaraki, while sitting in a big, nice pile of dust.

The room fell quiet.

"The next time you decide to be a dick, better think twice" Shigaraki barked through his gritted teeth, then rushed to his room slamming the door behind him.

Everyone was shocked, you mostly. Your tears were now dry and you felt the need to laugh at the scene : Dabi with his ass full of dust sitting on the floor, a broken glass of liquor to his right, screeching "WHAT THE FU - "

later

Shigaraki was lost in thought, not even paying attention to his game anymore. What was the heavy burden on his chest right now? Why did it last this long?

You were playing next to him on the console, trying to pas the level. The tip of your tongue was resting between your open lips, completing the look of concentration on your face. "Can you focus? I don't want to loose because of you, idiot"

Why did it pain him so much to see you suffering, drowning in sorrow? Why did watching you cry make him want to decay this entire world?

"If anyone's the idiot here, it's you. You don't even play it right!" he scowled.

"Ugh, shut up, you look like a rabid dog"

Rabid dog? He would usually dust anyone trying to speak to him like that...But not you. He found it funny when you insulted him, only making him want to backtalk. Such a familiar feeling...almost like a....

"At least I don't have half a brain like you, brat" he commented with a smug smile. "What was that earlier? The whole Dabi thing...Don't get me wrong, I just want to know why I dusted a perfectly fine chair"

You looked at him briefly with wide glassy eyes before turning your stare to the screen. Cold, blue light was shining on your profile.

"He said I was useless to the league... I couldn't fight with my quirk, or help them in anything and I... I know that's not true but-" you looked timidly at the bewildered man, waiting for his reaction "-it still gets to me..."

"...sister?" When Kurogiri suggested this, Shigaraki denied it with every bone and fiber in his body. Why would he see you as a sister? You were just another lost brat, that somehow entered the League and...and stayed by him. Not by the organization's goals and ideals, but by him. And he found himself equally invested in your presence, always looking after and protecting you. Hell, even inviting you to play videogames with him!

Shigaraki didn't need a family, or that is what he told himself all his miserable, little life. Or was he told that? He has his sensei, Kurogiri, an army of Nomus ready to destroy everything at his command. Why would he need someone to genuinely care about him?

"That's not true and you know that" his shaky voice sputtered. "Damn, y/n, I hope you are joking right now, how can you even think about yourself like that?!" he was angry now. "You must be demented to ever say that kind of shit about yourself. You are not worthless, I'm telling you and this is coming from the LEADER of the League, not some crispy man with a questionably, weird, purple skin! My god, let's see that Dabi fucker nullify someone's quirk next time, huh?!'

He pushed the buttons on his controller so hard, his character died, the words "LEVEL FAILED" appearing red and bold on the screen. Shigaraki's breath was sharp and fast.

When he looked at you, tears were falling from your eyes. He panicked, what did he say, did he make you cry?

As his anxiety hit him, you launched forward to him, wrapping your arms around his lanky torso so strongly, like you were afraid he'll run away from your touch.

He did considered that for a brief moment, scared that he will accidentally hurt you.

He knew how dangerous his hands were, how much pain and sorrow they caused, how much lives they've taken... Still you weren't letting go.

Slowly he rested his hands on your back, still shacking from fear.

Then he melted. He completely melted into your embrace, holding you even tighter that you did, resting his head into the crook of your neck. Tomura felt the tears forming in his eyes.

Who would care for a demon, for a monster like him without expecting anything in return? Who would willingly become family for a cruel, lost man like him?

"Thank you, Tomura. Thank you" you whispered against his soft, blue locks. "Thank you for caring for me, I-" you choked on your own sobbs. "I never... never had a family to look after me like this and... and you...you just...are that familiy"

You. You would care for him. And it was also you that made him feel something else besides rage and sorrow.

Tomura was fully crying on your shoulder.

He was vulnerable to the world, to you right now, something he didn't felt for ages, a feeling erased from his memory, yet hidden somewhere far away, where the blurred image of a family still existed.

How could your quirk be useless when it gave him the chance to finally experience the physical affection he had always yearned for?

════════════════════════

likes, shares and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[cyborg-franky]

I just have one thing to say... Emo Marco x reader... N/SFW one shot. That is all have a good day.

I was thinking today 'I should write something for myself' and then you anon, you come into my life like a god damn angel and I am inspired.

Thank you for this mea

OKAY SO... this... this got away from me because I have alot of feelings for Marco and goth Marco.

Marco x GN Reader

N/SFW

Word Count: 1,698

You hadn’t been part of the crew very long, they’d found you stuck on a raft half dead in the middle of the sea, the large man with the even bigger heart had instantly accepted you, made you part of the family. It had taken you awhile to get used to some of the quirkier members of the crew. The ships doctor was a strange one.

The chef informed you he hadn’t always been this way and he was going through some things. You could recall he day you met the zoan, how you needed medical help, how you didn’t believe the man with black hair, heavy circles under his half-lidded eyes and the collection of metal adorning his ears could have been in any medical profession.

But the brilliant blue flames he could wield, his power explained in detail when you’d stared at him with wide eyes had summed it up. He was the phoenix and didn’t he just like to remind you. You guessed his arrogance came from having a power that strong at such an early age.

The way he walked, with a swagger, dressed in black, chains hanging at his side, you could always hear before you saw him. The clink, clink, of his metal belts as he walked. The smirk ever present on his face, lop sided yet oozing with a confidence few had.

Said man leaned on your table as you drank, another night of celebrating good times on the high sea. His painted nails tapped on the wood in front of you, he fluttered those eyelashes in your direction. “Fancy some fun yoi?” He asked, the smirk growing as he noticed the flush across your cheeks.

He chuckled when you found the bottom of your mug every interesting. It’s not that you didn’t like the doctor, he was nice enough, good looking, he was just cocky and a little boisterous at times. He pulled out a cigarette, no doubt one he’d stolen from the chef.

Marco noticed how you stared at him, the way you couldn’t take your eyes off of his lips when he perched the end of the now lit cigarette between them. He took a drag, keeping an eye on you as he exhaled.

“What kind of fun?” You found yourself asking, maybe it was the two mugs of beer in your belly telling you it was a good idea to tangle with the phoenix, the way his tired eyes lit up at your returned interest sent a feeling through your body.

“Follow me if you want to see yoi”

--

You knew it would end like this, the moment you followed the tall man back to his cabin, how he gave you the once over, the way he looked at you through thick lashes. Clothes flung across the room, you had to give it to Marco, he was good with his hands, the way he’d undressed you and himself in what seemed like seconds, desperate to get his lips on the flesh of your neck.

Biting roughly, eager, you didn’t mind, the very thought of a man this attractive wanting his hands and mouth over as much of you as possible was accelerating. You whined as he sucked at the skin above your collar bone.

“You are going to mark me up so bad Marco” You mumbled, trying to find your voice, the way he handled you was taking your breath away. He chuckled against your skin, you felt the vibrations, feeling his smirk as he pulled away, just enough.

“You don’t want people to know you’re mine yoi?”

If the kissing hadn’t sent arousal straight to your lower body then his comment certainly did. He chuckled once more when you just opened and closed your mouth. You had no idea Marco was this type of person in bed, the marking, the domineering attitude, was this what being a zoan was like? The animalistic side making an appearance? As you mulled this over in your mind you hadn’t noticed the dark-haired pirate moving down.

Your only warning was hot breath on your sex before you felt his tongue running all over it. You yelped, toes already curling as you gripped his hair, what the fuck was he doing to feel so good? Feeling the tip of his tongue swirling over your most sensitive area.

“Marco..w..what is that?” You asked, voice breathy.

He looked up from between your legs, that cocky smirk grew, half lidded eyes crinkled in amusement, you watched as he poked out his tongue, you saw the metal, glinting in the low light of his cabin.

“I’m full of surprises yoi”

You nodded your head and felt him return to his mission, you gripped the bedsheets harder, it wasn’t like you’d never been given oral but Marco, with that tongue and his skills? Never had you been given oral like this.

“F..fuck I’m..M…Marco!” You felt the build up approaching, your moans getting louder, voice higher, and just as you reached the tip top of your climax the phoenix pulled away, he let out another low chuckle when you sighed, groaned in frustration.

“Gotta earn it yoi” He laid on the bed next to you, a thin brow quirked as he nodded down to his erection. You let your eyes roam down his chest, seeing his member, a good size, long, well the man was tall with not much meat you didn’t know why you hadn’t expected his prick to be the same.

What you had never expected though was the metal that pierced the skin there, he must have noticed your staring at the collection of piercings, he grabbed his member and gave it a lazy stroke, precum beading at the tip.

“It’s called a Jacobs ladder” He explained, he could have told you he was going to murder you for all the attention you paid to his words, eyes glued to his member.

You managed to snap out of it, you had no idea how but logical thought came back and you very much wanted to feel what that little ladder of metal would feel like inside your tight walls. You straddled Marco, angling yourself just right, letting yourself sink down on his long erect member, you couldn’t help the sounds that fell from your lips, such a strange yet wonderful sensation of his piercings running up along your insides.

“You look good sat on my cock yoi” Marco hummed in thought, arms behind his head as he watched you get used to being full of his prick. You rolled your eyes, cheeks flushed, body on fire, you started to move, you didn’t need words of encouragement.

Hands on his chest, using him to help yourself sit up and slam yourself back down, the sounds you made, you could tell they caused his member to twitched deep inside you, everything felt amazing, apparently your pace wasn’t good enough for the other pirate. He gripped your hips, firmly, a little rough, but honestly? You liked how he manhandled you.

It didn’t take long for Marco to pull you off completely, not satisfied with the slower pace, he soon had you on your hands and knees, his member soon pushed back inside your waiting hole in one fluid motion, you fell forward with a gasp, face against the bed sheets, gripping tightly as he fucked you with earnest, hands on your hips, tighter then before, the way the metal dragged inside your hole was making you drool, eyes closed, no thoughts other then how good he felt.

He had every right to be cocky, he was fucking you like you’d never felt before.

“M..Marco..” You whined, pressing your backside up higher, taking him deeper inside. Marco, ever the gentlemen could tell you needed just a little extra his pace picked up, all you could hear in the room was your moaning and the slapping of skin on skin.

“Going to cum for me yoi?” He leaned over you, using his height difference to his advantage, whispering in your ear, you felt him lick across the skin, that damned cocky chuckle ringing in your ears.

You didn’t get to answer him, unable to form words as an arm reached around the front, playing with your sex in time with his thrusts. The sensations were all too much, what his talented fingers were doing to you was all you needed, the coil was tight from the start but now you felt like it was going to snap.

Moaning his name, listening to his praises in your ear as he pushed himself into you, the sensations you weren’t used to, everything was stacking up and with a snap of his hips, a cry into the bed sheets you felt the coil snap, blinding pleasure as your hole clenched around him, groaning you fell forward, no strength in your arms.

Marco was pleased to fuck you through your orgasm, his thrusts became sloppy, his own sounds of pleasure filled your ears as you tried to catch your breath. His painted nails dug into your skin, marking you another way, not that you minded, there was something wonderful about such a strong pirate wanting to make you his own.

He mumbled something under his breath as he filled you with rope after rope of hot cum, between his long member and the sheer amount of seed he had to give you, you felt impossibly full, a happy look across your face which Marco didn’t fail to noticed as he pulled out.

The man chuckled and swot your right ass cheek playfully, you hummed, completely exhausted, Marco may have been a smug little shit but he helped you uncurl, laid you down on the bed, spooning you from behind, feeling his larger hands run up and down your sides.

You felt his chin on your shoulder as you sighed, that had been a good fuck. “Hey, this goth thing… even if it’s a phase… please… for the love of the Gods.. don’t get rid of those piercings” You sighed, feeling happy in your afterglow as strong arms held you close.

“That depends, will I get to keep using them on you yoi?”

[the-tiniest-one]

Hello! I saw you asking for requests to be sent in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for kakashi and gai (separately) with a plus size civilian s/o? Or one or the other? Thank you in advance ❤

MIGHT GUY

SO we all know Guy is ALL about 3 things. Youth. Passion. Protecting Precious People….and guess what? When you happen to cross paths with the Leaf Village’s Blue Beast, he trips over himself to let you know just how PRESH you are.

I don't see your status as a civilian as much of a road block for him. He needs someone grounded and with soft hands to hold.

Someone who will think he’s the strongest man in the world, a superhero.

He protects the ones he loves with his life and once you're in that circle there is no way out of this man’s giant heart.

You somehow enter Guy’s line of sight, maybe on a walk to class or work too early in the morning…. and from that moment you pass by and he catches sight of your pretty face, he is out for the count.

Now. Lets remember….Guy is CONFIDENT (sometimes more in spirit than in actual ability, he is the fake-it-till-you-make-it KING).

Also important to note: Guy is NOT the same as Rock Lee in his pursuit of women. He’s not about to blow every kiss at you from the jump or shamelessly confess everything out right. Don't get me wrong, he’s shameless….but Guy wants to be seen as someone cool, sexy, a real macho/mighty man... He wants to be slick Kakashi his eternal rival. He’s going to try to be velvety smooth….without success.

He would find any excuse to be in your eye line while flexing or saving a poor disguised student he employed for his contrived scheme, in this case... Neji or Lee in a dress from falling off a building LOL. (“They would be asking him to please explain again how this is training?”)------You might be a civilian. But Genjutsu of that level does NOT work on you LOL.

You are the one to finally introduce yourself to a slumped and defeated Guy after about a week of his adorable attempts at trying to bate you in with his goober acts.

“Hello, my name is (y/n). I was hoping maybe you would like to get a drink sometime?” you say with a half smile.

He would raise his head, teeth BEAMING….the power of youth always prevails!

Best. Decision. Ever. Guy charming and not to mention SHREDDED.

When he accepts your date offer, He would stand and grin, maybe saying something a little cocky like; “A handsome, war hardened devilish shinobi such as myself will always find time to satiate the voracious desires of such a heavenly woman so bursting with the essence springtime.”

He would be so so so respectful.

That being said, you're HIGH AF if you think you aren't making a B-line to walk by Kakashi on the way so Guy can tactfully walk by loudly so that his rival notices he’s with a cute girl.

He’s going to be the chivalrous type. The kind of man who makes sure your hands are around his giant bicep whenever he escorts you anywhere….which from this point on is almost anytime he is home from missions or not training.

Guy is perfect. He’s tall, JACKED, and such a sweet loving man.

He is obsessed with your shampoo. His nose is always in your hair.

Lets face it. Guy is 100% the most physical man that has ever walked the streets of Konoha. If you aren't big on touching, then his is not the man for you.

One hand will always be around your waist, holding your hand, arm around your neck, locked on your curves or anywhere else….respeeeectfully of course.

He will always be up on you and in your face so get ready for that LOL.

He will be proud of you. He will be boisterous to an exhausting level about your achievements.

He will be exhilarating in every way.

One of Guy’s greatest strengths is also one of his most unfortunate downfalls. He is wildly protective. Never underestimate his ferocity when it comes to you. You may have to communicate more than once where the line is when it comes to him watching over you. Even though you aren’t skilled in combat as he is, you also are not a child and he will take some time to learn what you require and what you don’t.

He always means well.

You have some faults and things to work on as well. Guy is tender as hell, an emotional, hot blooded, love sick fool who can and WILL take things you say to heart so be sure if you notice him freaking out or trying too hard to make you happy, to hold him and let me know often that he is perfect the way he his.

In the end all of the passions and butterflies that Guy provokes from your heart are entirely justified.

He will ask you to marry him after a date, probably at sunset, one knee, giant ring he spent way too much on.

He claims you deserve the world and you tell him that instead of the world “you would settle for just having his hands, his lips, and his heart.”

Do your best to return his love to the best of your ability because not everyone gets the chance to be loved by the Hidden Leafs Handsome Blue Beast.

KAKASHI

I’ve never seen Kakashi as someone who would end up with another shinobi bombshell.

Instead I think he would find himself interested in someone who is a total badass in another line of work.

Example; You first encounter him one day while advising Lady Tsunade on the information the Hidden Leaf Village (and a few others) pay’s your company large sums of money to collect, aggregate, and report.

Kakashi stands guard during the meeting, watching you speak with an eloquent grace and authority he finds captivating and maybe a little seductive.

By then end of the meeting he is curious about you...wondering what you thought of him, what you think about everything.... You never even look his way.

He falls in line with you as we escorts you out of the building, walking beside you in the otherwise empty stairwell.

You smirk and take the liberty of speaking first. “Did you enjoy the show Scarecrow?”

From that moment on he’s hooked.

Now I also don’t find the idea of him falling for someone with some FULL curves to be all that outlandish….He has never given .00000001% of a shit what other people think.

He also shares the famous Pervy Sage’s taste in “women he describes from research” and romantic books about women shaped like gourds so with that logic in mind….dude likes thicc, full, curvaceous women for sure. It's basically cannon at this point ;)

Kakashi is someone who has learned emotional detachment through pain. You are the first person who shows promise in tearing down those defenses.

Your relationship not necessarily a slow burn. Kashi isn’t a kid, just because he hasn’t fallen head over heals with anyone before, doesn’t mean he is a mystery to himself or oblivious to his feelings.

That being said, I do think he will protect you by keeping a relationship with you under wraps for the first year or so.

If anything EVER happened to you….he wont let that happen.

The secrecy could be hard on you at first.

Watching more than a few women flirt shamelessly with your Kashi is beyond ROUGH.

Especially considering most of them are tough as nails ninja women with perfect bodies. You aren't used to feeling threatened by other people men or women, so you have a hard time learning how to deal with it.

Kakashi is always quick to remind you that he is serious about your relationship though.

He looks at you with a ferocity only seen by people who are no longer alive. His voice is low and serious when he gets close and tells you, “(Y/N) You are my entire life. I will never leave you. I promise I am yours until the day I die.”

After a few times of him promising you that he really is in love with you, you believe him and can be secure in his word.

As his girlfriend, you take his breath away.

The way you speak, move, sleep….

Even the way you casually conduct yourself at home and in public makes him more than proud to know who you are. Let alone get to go home to you.

Guy is the first one to catch on believe it or not. He notices Kakashi peaking over the top of his book at you as you walk down the opposite side of the street. He’s known Kakashi since they were kids, he puts a reassuring hand on your boyfriends shoulder and vows without spoken words to protect you when Kakashi can’t be there….and Kakashi understands. It helps him sleep just a little better knowing he has help.

Stargazing on a rooftop one chilly autumn night, Kakashi grabs your hand and proposes to you with a small silver ring, slightly ashamed for it’s lack of a stone.

“I want you to be my wife.” is all he says and you wrap your arms around him whispering in his ear “You have had my heart since the first day I met you…. And you always will.”

His heart melts into a puddle at the sound of you telling him he will have a wife. Finally have family that loves him this much.

[keijifairy]

big little things 〃

♡ kageyama, nishinoya, oikawa, iwaizumi, bokuto, akaashi, atsumu, osamu, suna do that show how in love they are with you.

genre. fluff fluff fluff

warning. kinda spoiler for timeskip! bokuto

author’s note. hi,, im so sorry for promising to write but not writing :// i hope this disgustingly fluffy thing will make up for it as a late thank you for 400+ followers!!! aaaaa what 💗💗💗!!!!! 

+ writing this was super fun but also kinda upsetting bc sum of these are inspired by real life love stories wow </3

༘ kageyama frozen by your door with a painfully awkward smile and an assortment of wildflowers in his grasp is truly a sight to behold. before he picks you up for a date, he plucks flowers from the park near his house and shoves them into your hands with an incoherent compliment he exclaims (along the lines of “your face looks pretty”, you realize when he mumbles it the next minute and looking at anywhere but your face). you accept them with a giggle and return the sentiment with your lips brushing his cheek which blossoms into a deeper shade of red. hinata doesn’t believe that the rigid boy with a volleyball for a brain could be a sappy romantic like how you describe him to be.

༘ nishinoya is well aware of your sweet tooth, which is especially fond of chocolates. packs upon packs of the tiny chocolate kisses you secretly pop in your mouth during classes are stashed in his fridge, backpack, and even in the pockets of his uniform as a result. “it’s for emergencies,” he assures you with a proud grin whenever you find yet another family bag of hershey’s somewhere near him. you didn’t guess that not getting a particularly good mark on a test or homework piling up as the days pass were the so-called emergencies he proclaims: when your shoulders sag and your feet shuffle on the ground without a thought, the taste of chocolate lingering in your lips come as a surprise. his favorite laughter finally reaches his ears and nishinoya can’t help but gift you with another of his own chocolate kiss.

༘ oikawa is stubborn, incredibly so, but he’s only doing his best — even tries to push himself past his limit. it’s no surprise to enter the gymnasium to the thud of the ball as it hits the ground and you observe how strands of his hair stick to his forehead while his heavy breaths fill the room. you offer to help, to wait for him until he’s had enough—for too many to count—but he only flashes you a grin and lightly urges you out to the door every single time. oikawa couldn’t bring himself to focus if he watches you jolting awake every now and then instead of resting after bearing the weight of school — though he worries either way. with his phone leaning against his bag, he initiates a video call that gives you the perfect view of the boy jumping in the court through your screen as you make your way home. 

༘ iwaizumi has never gotten used to the ridiculous amount of nail polish you have collected ever since the both of you settled into your own home. he looks back and forth between your face and the small bottle of polish in your hand with his lips pressed together. “do you really need six bottles of blue?” you scoff and correct him for the nth time about the exact name of each color and end it off with a “none of your business, haji.”, causing him to narrow his eyes at you in concern with an exasperated sigh. quite ironic of him, acting so bothered and all, when you catch him watching a “how to build a nail polish shelf” video the next day.

༘ bokuto still calls one of his teammates every wednesday morning to inform them that he would have to miss practice, and atsumu still snickers on the other end of the line with an, “again? are ya sure yer not just slacking off?” wednesdays are scheduled for your doctor’s appointments, after all, so bokuto always makes sure to make it up to the other guys by doing extra drills or staying another hour the next day because he doesn’t intend on missing a single meeting. hospitals and clinics aren’t places you enjoy and you don’t feel comfortable talking with the doctor on your own, but you don’t worry too much — especially with bokuto seated beside you, listening intently to their words with his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your hand. his presence alone is enough to ease your anxieties. (his teammates don’t have it in them to be mad, only thinking about how whipped bokuto is for you).

༘ akaashi knows the moment you open the door with your eyes trained on your shoes that the day hasn’t been the kindest to you. he approaches you in quiet steps, taking your bag from your hands and placing it on the couch. you think the way his hand holds yours so delicately is enough to make you cry as he guides you to the bubble bath he had prepared at the right time, as if his sixth sense had told him of what you were feeling. the scent of lavender oil lingers in the air, and the flickering candles cast a soft glow throughout the room; it’s a comforting silence, save the occasional sniffles that tone down as akaashi gently scrapes through your scalp with shampoo. when the suds of soap are rinsed off of your body and he caresses your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in the comfort of your bed, sleep crawls into your eyes as a “thank you, keiji.” falls from your lips. he only kisses your forehead in response.

༘ atsumu takes tentative sips on the cold can of cherry cola you offer to him every day. it’s the only drink you purchase at the vending machine during lunch period and what you grab when you two stop at the convenience store for movie night snacks. he doesn’t bother to buy himself one, as you immediately nudge the can on his cheek as soon as you open it. its taste is something he could never get used to, but he swallows it nonetheless, only to convince you afterward that he couldn’t finish it on his own — and of course, he teases you, just like in every opportunity he grabs when you’re simply minding your own business and completely unaware of the trick up his sleeve — and always, you’re left stumbling over your words as you stare at him in shock? embarrassment? offense? perhaps a bit of all of them? but he does know that “that was an indirect kiss just now.” of his and your adorable reaction make cherry cola worth it.

༘ osamu comes home in your arms with drooping eyes and a worn smile. his words are almost incoherent when he mumbles them on your shirt, eventually turning into snores when you tell him to at least wash his face. owning quite a famous shop with the best onigiris in town (your words and his) can be hectic; with the day spent molding countless onigiris and tending to every customer, that ends with his arm limp on top of your waist. with your own work to deal with that occupies almost the rest of your days, there would be no room to breathe with just the both of you — but with osamu, it’s not like that at all. the soft sizzling from the kitchen wakes you up to an empty space beside you and your stomach’s quick to grumble in anticipation. the shop opens early, but osamu doesn’t leave until the both of you start the day eating at the dinner table and talking about the events of yesterday. it’s no doubt he’s still exhausted, so the small gesture of waking up early in the morning to cook your favorite breakfast and the gentle hum that greets you when you wrap your arms around him is enough to make you full. 

༘ suna must be obsessed with you! might be the first thing someone would think when they get their hands on the boy’s phone. his gallery is a gold mine: full of images and videos he takes of you in unknowing times that he has definitely used for blackmail at least twice a week. nibbling on your pen with your eyebrows scrunched when you attempt to start homework, cheek squishing on your pillow as a line of drool slides down the side of your mouth, clutching your stomach and throwing your head back because you’re wheezing too much over something he said, and plenty more embarrassing moments you don’t like looking back on are what fill his storage space. he refuses to delete even a single one, despite how blurry they come out or how you complain about how ridiculous you think you look. suna is obsessed with you — you would know if only you notice how he stops after he snaps a photo, with a small adoring smile that disappears as soon as it comes before he teases you to no end. 

[stardancerluv]

You Captured the Heart of a Club Owner & of the Most Infamous Criminal Mastermind

Kinktober - Roman Sionis - Mask Wearing

Summary: Roman is summed while wearing his mask.

Notes/Warning: Mask wearing, daddy!kink, semipublic consensual sex.

“Joker,” You swallowed. “I told you I only design a single piece at a time. I can make you a sofa, not a table and chair.” You rose your voice not too high. You didn’t want to anger Joker. But you didn’t want him get angry.

Harley, came bouncing in and perched on Joker’s desk. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, at best times she annoyed you.

“Girlie, look we want the table and chair.” She popped the gum she was chewing. “Would it be better, you put the table under Puddin and the chair for me?” Her red nails pointed at them. She fixed one of her pigtails. “And you can then forget the sofa?” She slid her blue eyes to Joker then back at you. “Now, that’s a good idea.”

You stood up, you were horribly insulted. “Look, I told you. These are my rules are.”

Harley jumped down from Joker’s desk which you had also designed about a year ago. “Calm down, sweetie.”

Joker cackled. “I’ll calm her down. Her lover will calm her down and get her to listen to reason.”

You looked past Harley. “What did you do?”

“Are you seriously giving me a fucking pat down?”

You knew that voice. You loved it. It belonged to the man you loved. But right now, it was a voice you didn’t want to hear during your meetings.

“Hi baby.”

Glancing over Roman’s handsome face was covered by his ebony mask. You knew this meant business. Part of it really infuriated and yet, another of you was relieved.

You could stand your ground and because Roman was there, Joker or Harley could not hurt you. You always worried that one of these days, he’s snap and do something out of turn. Perhaps, he’d shoot or or throw a knife at you.

“Hi Roman.”

“So,” Roman shifted on his shiny black shoes. “What is going on?” His gloved hands were behind his back.

Harley preened in front of him. “Your girlie. Won’t let us order what we want.”

Roman, turned his head as he looked at you. He was always so expressive it was hard to see no emotion come from him. It gave him quite the lethal edge, you mused.

“I only design a single piece per order. Joker wants a table and chair. They think if they break up the order between the two of them, it won’t go against my one item per order. Despite me being fully aware in the end it is a set for Joker.”

Roman, nodded. “I see.”

He turned back and looked towards Joker and Harley.

“Romy,” Harley glanced at Joker, and closed the distance and smoothed a hand up his suit jacket before she gently, tugged at his lapel. “Just talk sense to her. She is being silly.”

“Owwww!” Harley called out as Roman’s gloved fingers removed hers from his lapel.

Joker stood.

“You are wrinkling my suit.”

Joker’s eyes moved over the three of you.

She shook her hand. “Sorry Romy.”

“So let me get this straight. You want me to tell my girl how to run her business.” He gestured to you.

Harley’s lips spread wide across her face as she hopped back onto desk. “Yes!”

Roman, moved over to you and wrapped an arm around your middle. His touch, made flutters go through you despite the black mask. You knew it was a part of him, his world. It was separate and also part of you since you were his girl.

“Baby, is your business in any form one of my businesses?”

“No.”

Under the mask, you heard a light chuckle.

“That’s what I thought.” He tilted his head to the side for a moment. “Now, I would have thought, you knew that Joker.”

Joker came around from his desk. His body twisted, you could feel the annoyance come off him in the waves. He straightened looking at you, his mouth twisted. The desk creaked as he leaned against it.

You took a few steps back. Roman’s hand pressed into your back so would back along side him. His blue eyes, slide over to you. Butterflies appeared and began flapping in your stomach.

Before he looked back at Joker. “My girl doesn’t meddle with my business and so in kind, I don’t meddle with hers.”

Joker slammed his fist against the top of the desk, the maps and cup that held some pens bounced. You flinched and Roman’s hand tightened on your hip.

“So you listen to what she says. And stop wasting my fucking time.”

“Go! You’re fired!” Joker hollered. “I’ll find someone else.”

It was not the first, and it wouldn’t be the last. You were just glad that Roman was there.

******

Your heart was still thudding hard and fast in your chest, as you slid into the rolls. You watched as Roman looked around before he slid in beside you.

“The club.”

Pushing the button, the partition whispered up and Roman, finally unbuttoned his suit jacket and he sighed from under the mask. He reached up and you stopped him.

“Wait.”

He turned to look at you. “What?”

“Keep it on.”

Easily, after slipping out of your heels you went over to him. Holding your hands against the roof as the Rolls as it bounced through Gotham, you went and very easily straddled his lap.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” You flushed. Something about him wearing the mask made this all very different. “Thank you for today.”

He shrugged. “Its the truth and well I do love pulling the rug from under Joker’s feet whenever I can.

You beamed. “I feel the same way.”

He then rested his hands on your thighs. “Do you always look this amazing for meetings?”

You shrugged. “Only when I hope there is a chance you may rescue me.”

A chuckle came from behind the mask.

You reached behind your head and undid the pins that held your hair up.

“Now, that is much better.” The timber his voice took, made the butterflies, flap their wings harder. Moving just so, you nestled close. You inhaled the crispness of his cologne that mixed with his aftershave.

You didn’t hesitate any longer. You started to kiss his throat. You smiled as you felt him inhale. “What you did today…” your voice trailed off as you continued to kiss him.

“What baby? What did I do?”

You sat back in his lap.

There was a teasing light in his eyes. You placed a hand on his cold, finally carved ebony cheek.

“Were my hero. You kept me safe while also respecting my business.”

“Like I said, you’re my girl. I may not be perfect and even a bastard some of the time. But there are times, when I know when not to be.”

“You were certainly everything I wanted and more.” You moved but then inhaled as felt Roman’s hand slip under the skirt of your dress.

“Baby,” His voice sounded as if it had thickened. “You are wearing garters,” One of his hands drew up, and snapped the tight fabric that was the garter. You whimpered. “Daddy, please.”

Hmm, he made a questioning sound. “Oh, and these are thigh highs.” You could practically see his wide grin. “And these, oh baby they are the barest of panties.”

“All for you. I was planning on visiting you.”

“What did you have in mind?”

You flushed.

He made a questioning sound, but his hand drew closer to your center, you whimpered as his thumb grazed against you. You wiggled against it.

“Please don’t tease.”

“What if I want to?” He tilted his head to one side.

You began to squirm as he continued to rub against you. “You can do whatever you wish. But…please.” You breathed.

“Only because you begged me so well.”

He grabbed a the panties, and you gasped as he suddenly tugged just enough and they ripped. He managed to pulled what remained of the fabric.

“Well, look at that.” He then reached between the two of you. He stopped once he held himself. “Baby, it won’t be long before we are back at the club. You better ride me well, or he will park the Rolls, and come around and see riding my cock.”

“Daddy.” You breathed.

He snickered. “Alright, well then climb on baby.”

You shifted and lifting yourself up and onto him. As you slid down on him, you trembled and shuddered.

“You feel so good.” He breathed against the confines of his mask.

You grasped onto Roman’s shoulders. “Thank you, daddy.”

His gloved hands grasped tightly onto you.

You found your rhythm with the help of his hands. Bouncing on him, it wasn’t long before you felt yourself getting closer to actually cumming.

You lost yourself, tilting your head back. Loving how this felt. You did not care when you felt the pauses for traffic.

A tightness came over you. You were so close. “Daddy.” Breathe, you whimpered and moaned into his shoulder.

He thrust a few hard times into you. And he shook moments later as he came hard.

Not taking it any longer, you gently took ahold and removed this mask.

Your eyes met, “Roman.” You breathed. And placed it beside the two of you.

He nodded. His face, those chiseled features brought fresh butterflies to you. You cupped his heated cheek and soon, the two you kissed. He was still buried deeply within you. This all felt so amazing. This passion between the two of you, sometimes really stole your breath away.

Your breathes entwined as you kissed.

“Baby.” He rose his eyebrows as he looked at you. “He pulling into the ally.”

“Oh, yes.” You pressed a quick kiss and missed him already as he slipped from you.

He tucked himself away while you straightened your dress.

The car slid into the alleyway, he stopped near the door. Getting out of the car, he soon was at the door beside Roman. “Mr. Sionis.”

Roman, gave a curt nod. He hated to be called that but he also hated to be called Roman by his employees that he wasn’t particularly close with. He still had to think of some kind of alternative.

Turning, Roman held a hand our to you. “Baby?”

You felt his eyes as you slid out of the car. You made certain to grab his mask. You handed it to him.

You were his, Roman Sionis’s girl. Famous playboy and club owner. Yet you were also, the infamous Black Mask’s girl. You enjoyed being his. Good or bad, he cared for you and that is all you actually needed.

@xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @nebulastarr @zodiyack @angel98624 @emyliabernstein @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97-blog1 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @professionalclown123 @chogisss @xxinvisiblexx @shantellorraine @xxvisionsxx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @mrskenobi19 @dogmatic255 @bdffkierenwalker @thereluctantherosrose

[pillow-anime-talk]

so gorgeous.

request: sfw and nsfw headcanons of mello with a fem s/o who has a big chest,,?

# tags: headcanon; current relationship; romance; fluff; smut; sfw & nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, tits fuck and play, body worship

includes: female reader ft. mihael keehl {death note}

author’s note: aaa, yes! thank you so much, baby. hope you like it!

→ sfw ←

↘ Regardless of whether you love or dislike your breasts, Mihael will make you like and even love it much more than before.

↘ He is such a supportive boy who loves every inch of your lovely body in you, so boobs are no exception. With him, your ego grows really fast.

↘ A young man guesses that having large breasts may result in back/neck pain, so if he’s in a good mood (that is, no one at work pissed him off and all his missions have been successful) he will give you a long and enjoyable massage. I think he’s pretty good at it! But, please. Don’t forget to thank him with a long kiss or a new bar of chocolate!

↘ Mihael is the type of boy whose favorite place to sleep is your chest.

↘ Of course, usually the blonde is brave and definitely talkative, but at night, when all the important tasks disappear and problems no longer matter to him, he loves to relax and cuddle up to you. You’re always so warm and soft, and you smell like that sweet shower gel you’ve been using for years. It’s so comfortable for him.

↘ Also, if you touch his hair and you will start to play with them, you probably won’t get up until the next morning, because your partner will fall asleep really hard and with a slight smile on his pale lips.

↘ Additionally, I believe that Mello is the one who buy most of your underwear; he knows exactly what size you are wearing, so buying the perfect and expensive brassiere is not a problem for him. Each gift will always suit your taste, regardless of whether it’s a white lace with small crystals or a navy blue sports bra.

→ nsfw ←

↘ Hmm. I would like to start with the thought that I consider Mello a guy who is a ‘boob person’. That’s why your big breasts are like a daily present for him. He loves them indescribably and is very glad to have you by his side.

↘ Although he seems mean and strict, with you he is completely different; praising your body is part of everyday life, so expect compliments about yourself every few minutes. The boy will appreciate not only your legs, thighs, eyes or nails, but most of all your chest. Add to that a few pecks or pleasant sucking with the mentioned massage and here it is, the ‘Mello’s care’!

↘ However, be careful, because one moan or blissful sigh of yours is enough to make Mihael’s lips stop talking and instead turn to something more... wet and dirty.

↘ If your breasts are sensitive, the fair-haired one will definitely take advantage of it and biting your nipples or soft skin will be your not-so-innocent foreplay. Then expect a few more lovely words, and then well... It’s going to get hotter for sure, so why not take your clothes off?

↘ Mello has no problem with positions during sexual intercourse. He can both be on top and fuck you breathlessly, but he just as much enjoys seeing your body from below as you ride his cock. You’re definitely the sexiest then, and your breasts are at the perfect angle for both his orbs and his hands.

↘ Nevertheless, I believe that the favorite version of sex for him and for you is the so-called ‘tits fuck’. You can’t see it in person, but there is no better scene for your boyfriend than your adorable, a bit pinkish face covered by his own sperm as he cum thanks to your hot boobs and confident tongue movements.

↘ To sum up: Mihael is your huge fan and for the rest of his life he will worship your body and appreciate it in every aspect – when you two cuddle, when you wear a dress, when you have sex, and even when you take a nice bath after a busy day, enjoying your free time.

[snackhobi]

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 7.4k / genre: pacific rim au with brief smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you.

warnings: sexually explicit content (briefly), unprotected sex (please be safe when you have sex) / reference to injuries but nothing graphic, giant robots powered by love punching big alien monsters

a/n: this is a birthday gift for the amazing @yeojaa​. happy birthday, erin. this is completely self serving and is stuffed full with inside references that I hope you’ll enjoy. I wrote this in two days and it kicked my ass because I did so much reading and researching that turned out to not even come up in the story 👁👄👁 you know when I said I was studying? I lied. I was writing HAHAHAH ily I hope you like it hhhh (this is unbeta’ed so please forgive any mistakes it’s 1:30am as I’m scheduling this) (also summaries are so hard, I’m sorry)

Jeon Jungkook really is the perfect posterboy for a Jaeger pilot.

Broad across the shoulders and trim at the waist, all sharp punches and hard muscle, resilient and tough, with a face that’s the perfect balance of angles and softness; the cut of his jaw easing up and into his pretty mouth, the line of his brows subdued by his warm eyes—he’s a Goddamn vision, raw masculinity overlaid on rich veins of boyishness, glittering stratum that sparkle and shine even under the harsh lights of the Shatterdome. 

He pouts when he thinks and his hair hangs a little in his big, big eyes and he has dimples that appear when he grins, teeth poking out onto his pretty pink lips, like someone took a rabbit and turned it into a man and packed on pounds of muscle alongside. Undeniably powerful and strong, but youthful and sweet, too.

Alongside Kim Taehyung—arresting and beautiful and somehow affable and approachable, all at the same time—they’re exactly what South Korea needs right now, propelling the country’s new look for their renewed assault against the kaiju. They’re the lucky new Rangers who’ve claimed ownership of the only Mark-5 that their homeland has produced, Bulletproof Striker, a fucking gorgeous Jaeger bristling with the latest and greatest technology that the world has produced.

But that doesn’t mean they’re the best that South Korea has to offer.

Cypher Zero is smaller, lighter, older, but she’s fierce. Just like her pilots. You and Yoongi might not be the burning beacons of hope that Jungkook and Taehyung are, polished and buffed to a squeaky shine, but you don’t need to be. You’re vicious and victorious and show no signs of stopping. The kaiju kills painted on your Mark-4’s shoulder are evidence enough of that, notches for each monster taken down, spray painted in one tiny corner of the huge swathe of burnished metal plating, the red edges of her midnight skin.

Bulletproof Striker is almost untouched, deployed just once since her recent launch, flawless exterior so at odds with Cypher Zero’s battered facade. Cypher’s beautiful, of course, but bears the history of your skirmishes, inside and out: scuffed paintwork, dented metal, rust dripping down from the ladder rungs dotted across her, melting into the obsidian of her hull. 

Jungkook and Taehyung move in a way that’s practiced, disciplined motions of combat that their Jaeger echoes in turn. Her mechanical movements reflect those of the men inside her head, skilled and superb. Stunning. But you and Yoongi? You fight dirty, violent and rough; messy bar room brawls; shattered glass and clawing hands in beer soaked backrooms, tinged sulphur yellow under dirty lightbulbs; two kids who fought against a world that was against them. 

(Two damaged people coming together in the Drift to make something even stronger than the sum of your parts.)

(Two damaged people who survived the rough hands of the Jaeger Academy, trying to take them, push them, shape them, break them.)

(Life isn’t kind. You’d learned that young, surrounded in the splintered remnants of your childhood home, the facade of family and happiness already gone, long long long ago, leaving you aching and lonely and cold. The prospect of fighting thousands of tons of alien hatred, lifting out of the depths of the uncaring, dark sea? At least you can see the kaiju coming. Broken households and loneliness? A little harder to lay your hands on.)

(But out of everything you lost, you’d gained one thing—Min Yoongi, another quiet, damaged thing, but with the biggest depths of warmth and love underneath that hard surface; your best friend, your brother-in-arms, growing alongside you, with you. Damaged kids turned bitter teenagers turned razor-edged adults, outcasts in solitude, but together. Not alone.)

(The deeper the bond, the better you fight. Falling into the Drift with Yoongi had been easy, years of tangled connection bleeding into the images that flashed across your brain. The same memories from different angles, overlaid with different emotions, undercurrents eddying under the surface that caught both of you and swept you up in its flow; the same mind, bridged by hundreds of tons of metal and technology and firepower underneath you, linked together in the silence of the Drift.)

There’s reverence, in the way these two new pilots look at you both, reverence and awe and respect alike: older Rangers, more experienced, history written across the worn edges of your Drivesuits, the paint flaking away from your battle armour, scuffs and scrapes on the once unblemished veneer; knowledge etched into the feline slant of Yoongi’s eyes, the turn of your shoulders and hips. 

You know Jungkook’s track record. You know of the endless months of assessment and sparring and psych evals and Drift tests and simulation drops that every successful Ranger has to go through, and Jungkook had trumped them all, stood atop them like a conqueror surveying his hard-won lands—gifted, talented, some even said God-touched. And yet for all this indomitable talent and skill, there’s still humility at his core, a willingness to defer with respect.

That deference is obvious whenever he sees you. Jungkook’s dark eyes will touch your own, for a moment, dark and deep and bright—and then his gaze will skitter away, cockiness and bravado dissolving into something submissive, yielding. (Shy.) You’ve watched him orbit you, the younger ranger caught in your gravity, always nearby—the Shatterdome is only so big, for its magnitude and sprawling corridors—but never broaching that final gap, that little step, into Cypher Zero’s space, Yoongi’s space, your space. Keeping himself at arm’s length.

South Korea’s golden boy, less afraid of the Kaiju than he is of his sunbaenim.

Jungkook and Taehyung are both beautiful. But you and Yoongi are less so, unapproachable in ways that the younger pilots aren’t, private and prickly, like grasping a patch of stinging nettles with bare hands, stinging and burning.

As if Jungkook isn’t terrifying and gorgeous in his own ways. As if he doesn’t shine brighter than the sun himself. Taehyung moves through the world with a thoughtless, charismatic ease that Jungkook doesn’t share—but he’s still magnetic, bold and brilliant, monstrously skilled at everything he puts his mind to, training again and again and again to get it right, get it right, get it right. 

To get it perfect. 

But there’s no level of perfectionism that can surmount the twisted, unpredictable nature of the kaiju belched forth from the breach. No matter how good you are, how strong or fast, how smart or seasoned, sometimes you still get caught in that hurricane, even in a Jaeger.

It doesn’t matter how many engines are packed into each muscle strand. It doesn’t matter how fast the pistons and levers and gears shift and move. It doesn’t matter that the pilots in her cockpit are impeccable and incredible. Under the cloak of deepest night and pouring rain, blanketed in darkness and water from the heavens above and the sea below, movement is impossible to track—and when Steelbrute rises from the waves, no one sees the kaiju coming.

Bulletproof Striker takes the hit. Jungkook and Taehyung fight back but they’re blindsided and overwhelmed, and their Jaeger falls to her knees in the churn of the Pacific Ocean, salt water crashing over her in choppy waves as Steelbrute’s merciless maw gapes wide open.

Cypher Zero is 250ft tall and weighs 1410 tons. You and Yoongi are tiny specks of organic matter in a fearsome behemoth of titanium and tungsten and graphene and circuitry, commanders of a weapon that’s the same size as a skyscraper—and yet you wouldn’t think that for how fast you move. Zero hesitation. No verbal communication. Cypher’s legs cut through endless waves and gain momentum with each crashing step that slams into the seafloor before you leap forward in a flurry of motion and Drift powered fury. 

Your motions in the Conn-Pod are ragged and incensed, your arms and legs moving in sync with Yoongi, with Cypher Zero, a snarl ripping out of your co-pilot’s usually quiet mouth as the kaiju lurches underneath you. The world narrows down to this: throwing yourself into the fray, jagged knuckles edged with plasma pummelled into Steelbrute’s skin in a scuffle that’s vicious, aggressive, until Bulletproof Striker regains her footing.

The sun is rising, grey and cold on the horizon when Steelbrute finally sinks into the sea, toxic blood flooding the water with neon blue. When you step out of the cockpit, Yoongi’s fringe is matted with sweat, and you can feel all the places the circuitry suit sticks to your skin—piloting a Jaeger is mentally and physically exhausting, every muscle and organ and bone working overtime for endless hours as you fight tooth and nail. Without the helmets in the way, there’s nothing stopping you bumping your foreheads together, heedless of the sweat slicked there; Yoongi’s hand rests at the back of your head, a familiar cradle.

“All good,” you say. Yoongi lets out a quiet bark of a laugh, rough and exhausted.

“I want a nap,” he says, like he always does, even if you’re a long way away from that, still fully suited and due to speak to the Marshalls. There are so, so many things separating you from the bliss of sleep.

One thing that’s not part of the normal routine, though, is the other pilots catching you, demanding your recognition, respectful (Taehyung) but insistent (Jungkook). You know that Yoongi doesn’t like attention or hero-worship, but there’s nothing except gratitude, here, bent heads and words of thanks. You’d saved their lives, after all. Saved their Jaeger from being torn apart, pain screaming through their own bodies of flesh and bone, connected to their metal monster. Of course they’re grateful.

You dismiss it with a hard cut of your hand.

“It’s nothing,” you say. 

You’re speaking the words you know are in Yoongi’s head—years of friendship and shared Drifts leaving his thought processes wide open to you—although you know you’re sharper than he is, harsher than he is, even, for all that he looks like the cold one from the outside. Long lashes and silken hair don’t translate to something soft and feminine and pretty, and you’re all ragged edges and rough parts, bleeding into the delivery of your words. Yoongi rounds the words in his mouth and places them into the world with a rumble of quiet strength that belies his past, but you? Your tongue is cutting and terse and drips with distrust, even when you don’t mean it to, staring at these two boys, Jungkook’s eyes so brown and large when he stares back at you.

The truth is that you care about humanity, of course. You care about humanity and you care about the millions of people in the cities that line the coasts and further inland, and you care about your fellow pilots, skilled but soft-hearted as they are. You’re stronger. You have to be. That’s what Yoongi is, that’s what you are: fighters. You fight dirty because you fight to win, not to protect yourselves. You’ll fight and you’ll die for this, for them, even if there’s no friendship there. Not yet. You’re still too distant, for all that you’d thrown yourself in the line of fire to rip the kaiju from the younger Rangers. 

And when Jungkook levels a look at you, there’s a flicker of something. A spark. All the glittering of his warm eyes comes together like the cascading sparks of molten fire that fall when metal is cut through— his eyes score through you, down down down, right to your core, underneath all the armour you’ve laid about yourself throughout your life. Your heart stutters. You’ve been watching Jeon Jungkook, and he’s all cocky Ranger bravado, or innocent brown eyes and shy, curving smiles, and yet. 

And yet. You know he sees this soft part of you, somehow. Past the thorns and sharp leaves, past the hard husk, into the rich, bursting sweetness inside, oozing red gems of pomegranate that yield so easily to the fingers and mouth.

(He’s temerarious and modest and wickedly perceptive too, it seems.)

“That was our kill,” he says suddenly. Taehyung—the voice piece of the two, the one who’s been smiling and speaking, easy and slow—goes still at his side.

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes pierce through him, but Jungkook keeps his focus on you.

“Steelbrute. Our kill. It was a hit from our rockets that took him out,” Jungkook says, eyes still glinting with that sparkling shine. Slicing through you with an explosion of light. “Not your blades.”

Silence steals over you, for a breath. It’s never truly silent in the Shatterdome, an iron fortress that never sleeps, but for a second, there’s quiet. It wraps around you. Tight. Almost deafening.

But then you break that silence.

You laugh. 

You laugh at the cheeky grin that pulls at Jungkook’s lips, the boyish lift to his face.  You laugh at his shamelessness, the sudden 180 from his earlier fear. You laugh at the way he’s diluted this astonishing, formidable thing—humanity coming together to destroy alien predators that threaten the planet—into a competition.

“You’re a menace, Jeon Jungkook,” you say.

Stinging nettles you might be, but if you’re grabbed hard and fast by confident hands, you don’t wound. Jeon Jungkook defers to respect, avoids confrontation, bows his head and quiets his mouth, but he knows, now, that he can do this. That he can push you like this, and you’ll let him, sway against it, let yourself be pushed.

Yoongi slides you a glance out the corner of his eyes, a light touch, a tacit agreement to an unspoken question.

“You can have it. Steelbrute’s yours.” There’s the smallest curl to your lips as you speak for you both. There’s something weirdly easy and familiar to this, to this interaction, even if you’ve barely exchanged words before now, giving this triumph to the other pilots hand over fist.

(Giving it to Jungkook on a platter.)

You can see the flare of triumph in Jungkook’s eyes. You know it’s not for the notch of their first kill, one they can add to their Jaeger. It’s for something far harder to achieve, something far more ephemeral: digging down and past your cool veneer and lifting out a smile, spreading it across your lips like warm butter, liquid gold.

And he keeps making you smile. 

Jeon Jungkook, you find, is a force of nature, relentless, an ocean. Sometimes he’s soft, loving waves of glittering blue that crash on pearly white beaches, playful and bright. Sometimes, he’s intense, the crashing waves of a storm tossed sea, powerful and unstoppable. Always, he’s striking, even when he’s not trying—even more so because of it, moving without thought or uncertainty, a silence settling over your thoughts whenever you see him like this. See him in this raw state, so unafraid where before he’d curbed his tongue and bent his head in front of you. Now, he’s just himself, without filter.

Taehyung is there too, of course. Both pilots join your small, fiercely private circle, not just a path from you to Yoongi any more. They become intertwining lines, a pattern that’s drawn between the four of you, pilots, friends. And you learn, that for all that you’d thought that Taehyung was the dominant one outside of their Jaeger, social and extroverted and unabashed, Jungkook isn’t quiet. Not when he’s comfortable.

(Not, now, when he’s with you.)

He’s a myriad of things, endlessly deep, so different from you, from Yoongi, but—the truth of it settles inside you, your joints, the marrow of your bones, the blood that pulses forth from your heart each time it beats in your chest, liquid life running through you. 

Drift compatibility.

Not that it matters. You already have a partner. You’re never going to open yourself up to anyone that isn’t Yoongi, who’s seen every part of you already. There’d been no fear about letting Yoongi see inside your brain, your heart, the raw, bleeding parts of you—because he’d already known them. Just like you’d known his. Yoongi stands to your right, inside the Conn-Pod and out, a driving force, even in his silence. 

But Jungkook is softer, sweeter, for all his raw power and skill, respect engraved into his every motion, even when he’s teasing and making you laugh. Even when he ignores the social guidelines that he should follow, does follow for others, everyone except you. 

And you don’t mind. You don’t bite out insults at him when he slides into the quiet hollow you’ve scraped out, a small space with just enough room for the people you keep in your heart. You’re still barbed and spiked, warding away unwanted attention, but for Jungkook, the claws retract. 

You’re still you, of course. Jungkook calls you mean, says that you bully him, even as he’s flopped across your bunk, eating your rations, shovelling coveted popcorn into his mouth. He might pout and sigh and cry oppression, but you’re soft on him and he knows it. That quiet hollow in your heart is a little larger, now, a little louder. Jungkook is brazen in his claim of this space, spreading each of his limbs wide as he fits himself into every part of it. He doesn’t know every piece of your past, and you don’t plan to let him see all the messy parts bundled in your chest, but. But he’s still there.

And you let him stay. You make a home for him inside you and let him take the key. He might tilt his head and goad you, might pretend there’s a genuine challenge in the set of his jaw, but you know it’s all tempered with admiration, veneration. Friendship.

(And where he clearly respects you, you admire him in turn. You’re reminded of your differences every second he moves and breathes and just exists in front of you, but you don’t have to be similar to someone to realise just how incredible they are.)

(But though you’re different, there are similarities. You’re not a mirrored image, a reflection, like you are with Yoongi. Instead, you’re a line drawn between two separate places, an isohel, sun lighting up your world for the same sweep of the clock even for how far apart you are. Sharing that same, tenuous thing, for all your contrasting parts.)

(This thing that’s growing, held in your hands. This soft, gentle thing, shimmering, frail, unfurling slowly but undeniably. Tinged with happiness, disbelief. Disbelief that you’ve found this, that you can see Jungkook across the echoing cavern of the Shatterdome’s main hall, so far in the distance, barely visible at the foot of his Jaeger—and something will settle in your chest. Featherlight, iridescent. Something comforting.)

When you fight the kaiju, now, it’s with a deeper reserve of desperation. Taehyung and Jungkook aren’t just fellow pilots, dongsaeng that you’re obliged to look after: they’re your friends, something more than that too, part of the rare handful of people in the world who understand, this overwhelming pressure to fight and win and protect the things you love. The people you love. They understand what it’s like to step into someone else’s head, to be connected to that person on a level that’s unfathomable, anchored in a depth of love that’s endless. You’re their aegis, now, their shield.

(Jungkook’s shield.)

Maybe that’s what’s to blame. Maybe that’s why you’re so sloppy, this time. Maybe that’s why you throw yourselves in the way of the blow that was meant for Bulletproof Striker. Maybe that’s why Ojousan shreds Cypher Zero’s chest apart, her head, why Yoongi is almost ripped from you, his fear and pain screaming through your neural connection. You feel everything he feels and more beside, your heart hammering in your throat as you scream, Jaeger’s arm swinging up and around in tandem with your own motions as you try to rip the kaiju away, anything to protect Yoongi, so scared of losing him, always always always, scared of being left alone.

But you’re not alone. 

Bulletproof Striker lifts up like an avenging angel. Her horns roar a challenge, an echoing battle cry as the younger pilots move in. Heavier and stronger, keeping her balance even in the turbulence of a fight, she takes the hits, gives back her own, sends the kaiju down into the crashing waves, waits for it to rise. But the monster is crafty and quick and even as you’re lifting your left arm—Yoongi’s hurt, so hurt, you know this, feel this, but he moves with you to ready the plasma cannon buried in the mechanics of your Jaeger’s hand, even if he’s keening with pain—you watch as the other pilots, too, fall victim to the clawed tail of the kaiju, screeching through layers of alloys and across their Conn-Pod.

Terror strikes through every part of you and morphs into hate. You hate the kaiju, hate your own weakness, hate the pain that’s been saved from being written into your own body while Yoongi screams and sobs even though he still fights. Your motions are anguished and desperate as you battle to overcome this beast that’s almost taken away everything that matters to you—and Cypher Zero, Yoongi, as damaged and hurt as they are, come through. (Like they always do, for you, always.)

And somehow, despite everything, for all the self-hatred and pain and fear, you pull through. You pull through. Damaged and hurt but alive.

Barely.

Barely alive. 

(One hand gives, the other takes away.)

It takes hours for them to pick Yoongi’s Drivesuit from his body, crumpled around him from Ojousan’s claws, cutting into the soft flesh of his body, body ruined further by the fighting he’d been forced into despite his injuries; so many of Taehyung’s bones are shattered, and when you finally see him awake and with his eyes open, there are burst blood vessels that cast red across the usually warm expression, his friendly eyes.

You should be grateful that they’re alive. You should be on your hands and knees, weeping, benedictions dripping from your graceless mouth as you thank whatever merciless God above decided to turn their gaze on you and grant you this leniency. So many pilots have died and will continue to die, you know this, but somehow your partners are still alive.

And you are grateful. You are. But there’s bitterness on your tongue, twisted across your palate, sour and acrid and filling you with its taste. You’d been foolish and reckless and you’d almost lost the things you cared about most, even if you’d destroyed the kaiju, torn it apart and left its fluorescent indigo blood to corrode the ocean. 

That’s what’s important, isn’t it. Saving humanity. One person, two people, four people—you’re the tiniest cogs in a whirring engine of billions. Unimportant. Just a spinning part that keeps the machine going.

When you’re not with Yoongi or Taehyung, an unmoving presence from their hospital beds, a hovering gargoyle carved from stone, you’re with Jungkook. Always, always, always. Somehow you’d both escaped without the injuries inflicted on your partners—you’d manage to break your little finger, and Jungkook had a black eye and a twisted ankle, and the both of you had mottles of bruises cast across your skin, pulled muscles, an ache carved into your bones, but that was it. That was it. It was almost laughable, how unscathed you are.

You hate it.

(It should have been you.)

Your legs—unbroken, unharmed—hang over steel scaffolding, motionless as you watch the tiny specks of people scuttling across the catwalks that criss-cross Cypher Zero’s body. You can see under her skin, damage peeling back all the layers of metal that should be holding her together. Endless showers of sparks fall and scatter as she’s stitched back together. Your beautiful girl is so damaged, so disfigured.

(You’d caught Yoongi as he’d fallen from the harness, listened to the horrible noises that had torn out of his lips as he’d dripped blood and pain over your shaking hands.)

The bland food you’d scraped off your dinner tray settles fitfully in your stomach, still one second, nausea bubbling up your throat the next. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve been alone, since… since everything. You’ve been taking comfort in Jungkook’s presence, unwavering and understated, needing someone there when staring at Yoongi’s battered face proved too much. Even with his own upheaval Jungkook’s been there, at your side, always close. Eyes locked on you and taking everything in, the tired set to your face, the expression that tugs down your lips, and still, he stays.

But he’d disappeared after you’d eaten, a peculiar look on his face—you know him well enough now to recognise that look, that it means he’s got something in his head, some plan he means to unfold. It’s the first time you’ve seen it since Taehyung had been pulled out of the Conn-Pod. It’s some semblance of normality, an expression of something other than pale-faced dread and bone-shivering guilt. 

(You feel it too, that survivor’s guilt. Taehyung and Yoongi will recover but it’ll take time and so much suffering and you wish you could take that from them, heft that burden onto your own shoulders.)

(You know Jungkook feels the same.)

(You see it written in the tense lines of his body. Hear it unspoken in the words he shares with you. The bruises on his skin melt from red to purple to blue to yellow, but even if his body heals, his brain and heart bear the scars of helplessness.)

Jungkook reappears, finds you at the heavy steel door that leads into your room, rusted and worn but silent as it swings open in front of you. His eyes are wide and he’s breathless, like he’s been running, chest heaving as he sucks in air through his parted lips, a flash of teeth and tongue as he smiles.

Despite everything, you smile back. Helpless for that smile, always, happier now for the sight of it, for how little you’ve seen it. You want to see that smile every day. You don’t want him to worry for anything. You want him to feel the same way you do, when you see him: that quiet, maybe selfish thought that things are okay. 

Maybe he does. (His eyes are so warm.) He presses something into your hands, something soft and round like a well-practised secret, and then he’s gone. You can tell by the gait of his stride that he’s going back to Taehyung, giving you a moment of lonely reprieve to wash the grime and dirt off your useless body before you follow in his footsteps, stationed at Yoongi’s side.

The door swings shut behind you.

You lift your hand.

It’s an orange.

It’s a small, overripe thing, hard nub of the stem falling away from the skin with only the lightest brush of your fingers. You stare at the fruit, its brightness cutting through the muted sepia tones of your surroundings, a point of colour in an otherwise dull room.

You haven’t seen an orange in months. Rationing is tough on everyone, even Jaeger pilots. You’d mentioned in passing, so long ago, an old habit of yours. Before something else floated above it, more important and interesting, you’d made a fleeting statement that had flitted across the surface of the conversation: you liked eating oranges in the shower. Liked that nice, cool citrus sweetness in your mouth while the rest of your body was caught in the fall of warm water.

It’s such a small, tiny thing. Just the briefest lament—there are more important things than the fact you can’t have shower oranges any more, after all—and you’d forgotten you’d even mentioned it.

But Jungkook hadn’t.

It’s almost syrupy sweet, this orange. You savour each slice, pressing them between your teeth, feeling the rush of juice burst forth through the pith and skin, and it’s so good you could cry. 

You do cry.

Your mouth is full of orange and your eyes are full of tears and your head is full of—of—something, something so all encompassing that it overwhelms you, water cascading down the aching planes of your body as you crumple inwards. Jungkook had protected you with the overwhelming power of Bulletproof Striker, and he’s protecting you now, soft and considerate and kind, vulnerable and human. Stripped of tons of metal and technology, Jungkook wears his beating heart on his sleeve and is none the weaker for it. 

This seemingly small thing means so much, so so so much. You understand him, and he understands you too, knows that this gesture is indicative of support and care and nurturing, a tiny fragment of peace he can offer you in the tumult of everything out of your control. 

A tiny fragment of peace that’s part of a greater whole, all the things that Jungkook gives to you.

When the Marshalls gather you and tell you the plan going forwards, you’re unsurprised. 

It makes sense, of course. Four pilots down to two still leaves a pair, and Bulletproof Striker is nearly functional even if Cypher Zero will stay out of commission while she’s rebuilt. Simple maths. One Jaeger, two pilots. You and Jungkook.

You’re scared.

You know you’re Drift compatible. Every fight in the Kwoon Combat Room is evidence enough of that. A dialogue, each challenge is meant to be a dialogue to show physical compatibility, and it is: there’s perfect sync in how you each move to strike, even if your motions are so different, muscles burning and breaths coming faster each time you attack, parry, strike, block. It’s not about winning or losing. It’s a conversation, one that you and Jungkook fall into without thought.

And he would be the perfect partner. That much isn’t in doubt. Loyal and open and strong, honourable and brave and kind—and you know him, have grown to learn so much about this golden boy, this bright, brilliant boy. He’s fucking indomitable and anyone would be lucky to find themselves in the same Jaeger as Jeon Jungkook.

But there are no secrets in the Drift. 

To let someone in, you have to trust them. And you do, you do trust Jungkook, probably far more than makes sense, some unspoken thing between you burning like a wildfire. But while you trust him, confident in his strength and his heart, you trust yourself less.

You’ll be flayed open, naked and defenceless. He’ll see right to the core of you, every dirty corner of your crumpled soul, every shameful part of your foundations, uneven brickwork layered into your shaky temperament; strong one second, weak the next. He’ll see that you’re hard inside, too, biting and acidic right down to your shrivelled heart. This nascent thing that you’ve been building with Jungkook, been keeping safe in the cradle of your careful hands, will sputter out and die.

“Baby.”

Yoongi’s voice is comforting, a familiar rumble that rolls through your ears as you rest your head in his lap.

“And I mean that you’re literally being a baby,” he continues, and you curl your lip back from your teeth in a small snarl, menacing.

Yoongi just continues to thread his hands through your hair.

You’ve Drifted with Yoongi often and long enough to know how every thread of thought unspools in that skull of his. You know he has every confidence in the unshakeable pillar of your soul. He’s a brother to you, a connection that thrums deep in your veins even without the intimacy of the Drift, and the love you hold for him is undying and true.

But whatever you have with Jungkook is so timorous in the face of that.

“It’s different.” Yoongi looks down at the twist of your face. You know his thoughts and he knows yours too, your face and heart an open book to him. “But different isn’t bad.”

You keep your mouth shut, keep the words swallowed down in your throat, shoved down to the pit of your stomach. Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

“Baby,” he says again, softer, lower. This time, you know it’s an endearment. 

At the end of the day, no matter what fear grips cold and endless at your insides, you’ll do it. You’ll Drift with Jungkook. You’ll throw everything you have into the pyre, watch it burn and turn to ash, if it means you can keep everyone safe. To save Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook—you’ll open yourself up to the mortifying ordeal of opening up, laying yourself bare. You have to.

It’s chaotic, anyway. The day that your practice Drift is scheduled is the day the next kaiju rises out of the breach, that dreaded rift between our world and theirs, because why would you be allowed to breathe, even for a second?

It’s a scramble into the cockpit. There’s no time for trial runs or test Drifts. You fly or you fall. Everyone’s in a state of orderly upheaval as you’re suited up and left to stride forwards into a Conn-Pod that isn’t yours, in a Jaeger that isn’t yours.

(Left to stride forwards to stand next to someone who isn’t yours.)

Your Drivesuit is grey. Jungkook’s is white. There’s a subtle hologramatic sheen laid across the planes of his armour, leaving him a multicoloured vision that shines out under the flicker of the cockpit’s endless tiny buttons and lights. Your own suit is a matte, gunmetal with accents of burning scarlet, far more battered and worn. Dark and wild in the face of Jungkook’s radiance. He’s the perfect answer to the kaiju invasion. You, though, feel like an interloper in a space that wasn’t designed for you, this circle room that’s been home to Jungkook and his true, real partner. 

But he’s looking at you like there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side. 

He doesn’t care that everything about this moment just cements how he’s too good for you in every conceivable way, elevated above you. Doesn’t care that you’re just a temporary stop gap. There’s trepidation, of course, skittering nerves that dance across his face for this first Drift, surrounded by all the commotion that’s swallowing the world up outside the cockpit. But there’s also that fire in his eyes, one you’ve learned to expect: Jungkook is a wildfire and will surmount any obstacle in a blaze of white-hot light.

And he wants you along for the ride.

(Burns bright for it.)

“You ready?” He asks, and the tiny tremor in his words takes you off guard even as it soothes a balm over the rash of apprehension that prickles across your skin.

(Because he’s nervous, too.)

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer, truly.

His eyes crinkle into a smile, crescents of happiness as his lip peels back from his teeth. It should be jarring, seeing his sweet bunny smile in the pit of a Jaeger, so at odds with the military polycarbonate that girds his body with protection, the masculine edges of his face—but it’s not. The world is just a backdrop to Jeon Jungkook, dropping away as you fall into his eyes, twinkling stars of brightness and warmth that hold you safe, even now.

Peace and contentment steals over you. You’re almost shocked by it, the way your own face softens into a smile, the rising beat of your heart. Every ragged messy edge in you is smoothed over by Jungkook’s presence and you glow for him.

When the Conn-Pod drops, there’s the familiar weightlessness, the sway of your body in the harness as you fall. Anticipation roils through you as Bulletproof Striker’s head locks into place, whirring mechanisms securing you to nearly 2000 tons of metal, so much heavier than your own Jaeger. You’ve taken Jungkook’s usual place and he’s taken Taehyung’s, the right hemisphere, the dominant pilot, familiar with this machine in a way you’re not.

Not yet, at least.

“We’ve got this.”

Jungkook’s voice cuts through the noise, the AI talking at you, a narration of events you’ve long grown used to. You turn your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, intent and sincere. Like always.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, we have.”

There’s no point being afraid. In a few seconds, Jungkook will be in your head, washing over every part of you—and you’ll be in his, pressing your ethereal touch into every facet that comes together to make Jeon Jungkook who he is.

Seconds pass. There’s a little hitch in his breath, a stiffness to his limbs, and he shuts his eyes. You breathe in deep, deep, deep, sucking in a harsh breath into your greedy lungs—

—the timer hits zero—

—and then the Drift slams into you all at once, all encompassing and consuming, threading your minds together.

(Drifting with Yoongi is easy, the familiarity of coming home after so much time away.)

(But this?)

(This is throwing yourself into a cold lake on a hot summer’s day, bracing and refreshing and breath-stealing all at once, shocking life into every one of your limbs, so sharp and fast you’re scared you might drown before you breach the surface, water holding onto you and not letting you go. This is driving reckless and fast down empty roads, watching the world pass you in a blur, laughing in delight at the pleasure of it all. This is scaling a cliffside with nothing but your own hands and determination, digging your fingers into the unyielding rock, pulling yourself up-up-up, never letting yourself fall.)

(This is having Jungkook beside you. This is having Jungkook diving into the lake with all the grace of an Olympian before he rises to the surface, tosses his hair carelessly out of his face, and spits a mouthful of water at you with laughter in his eyes. This is having Jungkook behind the driver’s wheel, shifting gears without thought, looking away from the road to watch the way your hair dances in the wind. This is having Jungkook climbing beside you, waiting for you at the top, holding a hand out to pull you up and over so you can sprawl out beside him, exhausted and exuberant at the top of this mountain, basking in the sun with Jungkook just a hair’s breadth away from you.)

(He takes one look at you. He takes one look at all the dark of your memories, the cascading mess of your insides, the hidden things that are open to him in the Drift, cut open and peeled back for his gaze—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He sees everything, past skin and muscle and bone and nerves, even deeper, right into your heart—)

(—all the torrents that eddy the deep waters of your soul—)

(—and he doesn’t look away.)

(He doesn’t look away.)

(Can’t look away.)

(Doesn’t want to.)

(Never wants to.)

(Jeon Jungkook takes one look at you, your whole being, and he knows you.)

(And he doesn’t want you any less.)

It’s just a second, a flicker, a breath, this first connection in this Drift, falling into each other. But it’s also a lifetime, two lifetimes, four lifetimes; your memories, Jungkook’s memories, Yoongi’s memories in yours, Taehyung’s memories in Jungkook’s. Layers and layers and years and years piled over one another, a tumbling sprawl—but it’s easy. It’s easy, so easy, Jungkook seeing you, you seeing him, everything he is, everything you are, everything you are to each other, with each other, for each other. The important things. The things you need to know to navigate this together, in sync even before now, reading each other to a level neither had even realised.

And when you’ve killed the kaiju. When you’ve walked Bulletproof Striker back to shore, brought her back to the Shatterdome, back home, it doesn’t end. You lift out of the Drift, step out of your Drivesuits, as different as they are (as different as you are), and it doesn’t end. 

Jungkook’s eyes linger, as heavy as a physical touch, and even as congratulations for a successful drop are bandied about you, he doesn’t leave your side. He keeps his hand against yours—not intertwined, but brushing, the curl of his fingers against your own. Touching. You’re not the protector here. He’s protecting you, in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling inferior or weak. You feel soft and warm and small and safe, pulled inexorably towards him, supported, buoyed up, and you don’t feel selfish for it.

Because he wants this.

He wants to be your comfort and your support.

He doesn’t want it to end.

(You don’t want it to end.)

And when you finally break away from those crowds, released from the shackles of responsibility and expectation—when you’re finally left alone, the two of you with each other, there’s no hesitation when you come together.

He lays you out beneath him and has you sobbing, back arching into the pleasure he draws out of your body, playing you like a maestro. Because he knows you, after all. He knows exactly how to trail his lips across your skin, your neck and stomach and thighs, painting marks across your body like it’s his personal canvas. He knows exactly how to have you twisting underneath him, how to pull those pretty sounds from your lips, fucking you with his fingers and his tongue until you’re a shaking mess. He kisses you sweet, merciless, letting you claw at his skin as you beg for more, more more more, wanting it, needing it, wanting him, needing him.

And you know he’ll give it to you. He’ll give himself to you, give you everything you ask for. You know how he wants to see you fall apart and you know how to move your body to have him gritting his teeth and staring in awe. You know how desperate he is to worship you, to show you his adoration and reverence, and you open up for him, unfurl like a flower, dripping nectar. When he finally presses into you, hot and long and thick, it’s so good you could cry. You draw him in-in-in, into your body and arms and heart, pressing your lips to the sweat at his brow, the taste of skin and salt and Jungkook bursting across your tongue.

There’s no Drift here, no curl of memories and unspoken thoughts between you. It’s physical and human, the crash of your bodies against each other, skin on skin, the thrust of his cock pressing into the dripping folds of your cunt. It’s the other half of that connection, the final piece, this thing you have with Jungkook, this perfect balance you have with him. It sears itself across your body and into your soul: it’s pleasure and passion and devotion carved into each touch of your lips and fingers, each roll of your hips, each time Jungkook makes you cum, gasping for him.

When he’s finally come apart inside you, spilling into your willing heat as you shake beneath him, arms and legs wrapped around his body as you pull him as close as you can, unwilling to let go—it still doesn’t end. You’re so wrapped up in Jungkook, in his arms, his heart, and you know he won’t let you go, either. He presses his lips against yours, chases those kisses, quiet and chaste to open-mouthed and dirty as the mood takes you, and then Jungkook rolls over you again, a spark in his eyes as he decides he’s still hungry for you.

You know, now, that all that time ago, when you carved that space for him into your chest, he’d done the same for you. He’d laid his heart at your feet and waited there, kneeling, for you to accept it, patient and willing. Staring at you with all the deep love you never thought you deserved, never thought you’d receive. But here he is. Here he is, love burning in his dark brown eyes. Eyes that have seen all the damaged, aching parts of you and love you anyway.

“I’m yours.”

Jungkook shines so bright at your words, a supernova of joy. His smile is so wide and his gaze is so soft, for you, for you, for you.

“Everything I am is for you,” he murmurs, letting the words curl into the air, settle across your skin, sink deep inside your chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel this touch of him inside you, wrapped around your heart.

And when you lift your hands, he comes so easily. He presses his cheek into the curve of your fingers, lets you hold him, lets you cup those lovely cheeks in your palms.

“I love you,” he says.

Right now, in this instant, there’s nothing but him. No kaiju, no Jaegers, no crumbling world, nothing. There’s only him, and you, together.

“I love you too,” you reply—and when you smile, gentle and tender, Jungkook falls in love all over again.

Burns bright for you.

[write-like-wright]

u asked for requests so im here to comply😳could you maybe do a ”should you date them” with the defense attorneys in the series?? or just generally some other characters?? bc the prosecutor one added like 20 years to my lifespan lmao. hope u have a great day!!

I'm so glad you liked it!!! Here's the sequel, just for you <33

Original post here

Should you date them: Ace Attorney defense lawyers edition

Phoenix Wright

yes, you really should

probably one of the best, if not the best, boyfriends in the series

wanna get married? husband material

wanna have kids? father material

has a tendency to casually adopt children actually, could be an issue at some point

worships you

you know how some guys brag about how they'd die for you?

Nick would unironically die for you

may even come close a few times but I'm pretty sure he's canonically invincible (eating poisoned glass and falling off a burning bridge, who?? tis' but a scratch!)

massive gossip

gets home after an investigation and immediately starts like "you won't believe what I found out about Gumshoe today"

somehow surprisingly mature and good at keeping secrets in spite of everything

has a lot of really cool friends!!! and larry

have you seen those shoulders tho?? mans built like a dorito, smashing through massive wooden doors n stuff

biggest monthly expense is hair gel

claims his hair is natural but you know better

don't be the big spoon, he will poke your eyes out

can somewhat read your mind tho? a bit off-putting but ok

marry him before Edgeworth someone else does

Mia Fey

hell yeah, dude

cool, calm, collected

has literal superpowers

successful business owner at 27!!! unironical #girlboss

went from being a lame rookie to a literal legend with her own practice and an apprentice in, like, three years

she's so smart, I fear her

has the fashion sense of a female character drawn by a cis man... oh, wait

god help whoever tries to hurt you

will literally kick their ass to hell

family-oriented

believes in second chances

took phoenix under her wing after everything, mia has the patience of a saint honestly

drops cool oneliners in everyday speech like a marvel character

curve lovers rejoice

doesn't mind being called dorky nicknames

major wife material

Diego Armando/Godot

I already covered him in my prosecutors list,, literally did not occur to me to split Diego and Godot into two lists

but to sum up, if I had to choose between the two, I'd go for Diego

i like my men like i like my coffee - tall, dark and bitter

^^ eats up pickup lines like those

Apollo Justice

Polly is such a sweet babey boy, please be nice to him

short king

low on confidence, makes up for it by being loud

*voice cracking* HE'S FINE!!!!!!!!!!!!

your neighbours will hate him

such a pushover, will do anything you ask of him

sensitive boy, not afraid to cry

pretends not to be dorky - is very dorky

consumes nerdy media almost exclusively (canonically a Whovian! but Capcom can't say that)

bikes everywhere and is apparently good with a hula hoop

Polly got cake is what I'm saying

have you seen his cool street style clothes?? sk8er boi

very grounded, literally

might play around and hold your hand for comfort

won't come to visit you if you live on a high floor, sorry

cat dad!!! cat pics!!! yes!!!

about 7 different tragic backstories

new secret family member drops every week

stares at you when you speak sometimes

is he jealous of Klavier?? does he have a crush on him??? who knows but it's funny watching them interact

bicon

spends way too much time on his hair

someone please date him, he deserves some love

Athena Cykes

holy childhood trauma batman

been through a lot

total empath

if you're sad, she's sad

can kinda read your mind... why is this such a common thing in AA games?? I like my privacy

super energetic

will drag you to the gym, take you on hikes, practice wrestling moves on you...

you will always be sore but also in the best shape of your life

has minus 25 chill

incapable of keeping secrets from you

her weird goth convict uncle threatens you every once in a while

she promises he means it in a friendly way

loves europop

way too accomplished for her age, everyone in this game is so smart, help

i feel like she'd enjoy theme parks idk

date her, she's baby and she needs some TLC

Kristoph Gavin

no

he's scary

thinks he's better than you

thinks he's better than everyone

has the audacity to wear white shoes with a blue suit??? are you going to prom????? sir????

obsessed with phoenix wright to an alarming degree

perfectly manicured nails!

the kind of guy who warns you never to go into his basement

nice on the outside but it's all fake

deeply rooted issues even he's unaware of

if you like drillbit hair consider Klavier instead

Ryunosuke Naruhodo

world's biggest baby

secretly a bitch

loves to clown on people

fake it till you make it

has no clue what he's doing most of the time

very determined in spite of that

everyone loves him

so many cool friends

cries at the thought of your bare ankles

physically incapable of walking by a shop and not buying something he doesn't need

"look, i got you a gift!!" "awh, how sweet! ...what is it?" "i don't know, i'll ask Mr Sholmes when he gets home!"

good with his tongue

may be somewhat trapped in the closet

has literally zero chill

remember when he just casually chased armed robbers??

must be a family trait

Iris interrogates you about your intentions with her brother

she has a gun

you have no privacy at his place

Sholmes crashes your dates

his bromance with Kazuma sometimes drops the "b"

becomes ultra cool eventually

hop into that time machine and date Ryu's ass, but be prepared to deal with period-appropriate homoeroticism and misogyny lol

Extra little shout out to Kazuma Asogi for that one time where he was a defense lawyer for, like, an hour and a half and somehow managed to cram 50 of the horniest one-liners in the game in that very limited time. Date him.