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witchywithwhiskey · 2 months ago

Text

sweet as honeycrisp

pairing: sugar daddy!ari levinson x sugar baby!female reader

summary: your sugar daddy takes you on an autumn-themed date to the apple orchard, and what starts off as a fun and flirty day unfolds into a meaningful turning point in your relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, biting, brief cockwarming, exhibitionism, light bdsm, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, very light degradation, lots of teasing, pet names (darling, honey), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 14.5k

a/n: whew i've been working on this for like two weeks now, and i'm so happy to finally be able to post it!!! i was struggling a bit with the emotional throughline of this fic, and i only decided on it very late in the editing game so if some things don't make sense, just ignore it!!! if you can believe it, i originally just wanted to write about a quickie in the apple orchard and it turned into this 🫣 anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!!

“Kiss.”

The warm, playful voice of your sugar daddy, Ari Levinson, met your ears as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat of his Lexus, greeting you in the way he always did. When you closed the car door behind you, the sounds of the Manhattan street were silenced, leaving you in the relative quiet with Ari.

Eagerly, you twisted on the sumptuous seat of the expensive car to lean over the center console, brushing a teasing kiss to Ari’s scruffy cheek, your lips grazing the edge of his full beard. His skin was warm and inviting, and you lingered for a moment, breathing in the the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne, smelling of vetiver and leather.

When you pulled back, Ari’s blue eyes were glittering with a hint of mischief that made your heart thump with excitement, a warmth blooming in your core despite the cool air of the car’s air conditioning brushing your legs. It was a warm September day, the last remnants of summer clinging in the air as if it protested giving up its seat to autumn.

The thought crossed your mind that if any man looked like the embodiment of summer, it was Ari Levinson. His skin was golden with a perpetual tan, and his brown hair had sun-kissed blond highlights that shimmered in the daylight, though they were dimmed a bit in the shadow of his car.

Still, as he grinned at you, showing off his pearly whites framed by his dark beard, you couldn’t help but feel like the summer sun had taken a liking to you and sat beside you. When he looked at you like that, with that smile and those blue eyes shining like the sun off the ocean waves, you wondered what it would be like to have his attention all the time—to be more than just the sugar baby he took on occasional dates when he wanted to have fun.

Pushing those bothersome romantic notions aside, you raked your eyes down Ari’s form, noticing that he’d dressed down for your date. He wore a soft denim, long-sleeved button-up over a simple white t-shirt and tailored slacks. Casual loafers and sunglasses perched on top of his head completed the look. Even in such a simple outfit, he looked good.

“Show me.”

His voice was a deep rumble that pulsed between your thighs, and you flicked your gaze back up to his face, finding heat in his expression, the same mischievousness in his eyes that’d been there since you got in the car. The corner of Ari’s mouth was curved in a smirk, and you felt another throb of warmth in your core.

Your lips curled at the edges, a wicked smile curving your mouth as the energy in the car crackled around you, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. You knew exactly what Ari wanted you to show him, and you knew it was naughty—but that was part of why you liked spending time with your sugar daddy.

Ari was always urging you to be a little daring, to do something that made your heart race and your breath come a little faster. He didn’t push you, so much as guide you down the path to depravity, and you followed him willingly. You never felt more alive than when you were with Ari.

So while you smiled at him, you spread your legs on the leather seat of his Lexus, the short skirt of your dress falling between your parting thighs. Ari’s smirk deepened with satisfaction as he watched your movements with rapt attention. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the fabric having ridden up quite high on your thighs.

But before you could reveal what was beneath your skirt, you looked away from Ari, and it crashed over you that you sat in a car in the middle of a busy Manhattan street surrounded by other people. There were folks driving in their cars just outside your window and others walking by on the sidewalk beside where Ari was parked. There were even people filling up the buildings that overlooked the street. They were everywhere around you.

“Darling, look at me,” Ari murmured, his tone entreating enough to call your attention back to him.

You noticed his sparkling eyes had lost some of their mischief when you looked back at him. But the steadiness of his gaze had you relaxing when you hadn’t even realized you’d tensed up, and the corners of your mouth flickered in an uncertain smile.

“Do you trust me?” Ari asked simply. His face was open, no hint of pressure in his tone or voice.

For a brief moment, you considered his question, then you nodded your head. You watched as warmth flooded into his gaze, and it made you feel a little more sure.

“Lift your skirt for me, darling,” he implored, his eyes dropping to where your thighs were still spread, the flimsy fabric of your dress barely hiding your core. “Show daddy what you have under your pretty little skirt.”

You gathered every ounce of braveness in your body and pulled up the hem of your skirt. There, nestled between your spread thighs, was your bare pussy. The air in the car seemed to heat by a few degrees when you heard Ari suck in a sharp breath.

It had been Ari’s idea for you to go without panties on your date, and you’d agreed, the idea sending excited thrills through your body. Walking through the halls and the lobby of the Manhattan high-rise you called home, you’d felt like you had a secret that only Ari knew, and it gave you a delicious kind of satisfaction showing your sugar daddy how you’d gone without panties, your pussy fully exposed beneath your dress.

“You have such a pretty cunt, darling,” Ari groaned, his hand sliding up your thigh until the tips of his fingers teased the top of your slit.

You bit back a gasp and squirmed in your seat, trying to hold your hips back from thrusting into his touch.

“I never get tired of seeing this pussy, and how wet she gets for me.”

His fingers spread your lower lips and he brushed ever so gently over the tip of your clit, making you twitch in your seat, your legs shaking with the effort it took not to close them on his hand and trap him against your heated core.

“And the way your thighs tremble for me,” Ari rumbled, pulling away from your quickly dampening slit to grope roughly at your plush softness, his grip possessive in a way your sugar daddy rarely was.

“Ari.” His name was a breathy exhale, an undercurrent of admonishment in your tone as his touches stoked the blazing fire in your core, making you squirm even more on the seat. A sliver of worry wormed into your mind as you remembered the leather you sat on, which would surely stain if he kept touching you, and you gasped, “The seat.”

Ari only chuckled, the sound cavalier in a way that made butterflies take flight in your belly, but before you could chide him again, his hand was slipping back between your thighs. Ari dragged a finger from the bottom of your slit all the way to the top, flicking your clit and wringing a moan from your lips as your thighs trembled on the seat.

Then he was pulling his hand away, leaving you to drop your skirt to cover yourself, and popping his finger into his mouth. Your sugar daddy made a show of savoring the taste of you, and your head fell back against the headrest. You watched him suck your taste from his skin, your breaths heavy in your chest while Ari’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Mm, sweet as apple pie,” he praised, making heat rush to your face while you shook your head and rolled your eyes—even as your chest warmed at the compliment. Ari was grinning shamelessly at you when he grabbed your face gently and pulled you gently across the car toward him. “C’mere, darling, see how sweet you taste,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you.

The musky flavor of your body made you moan into Ari’s mouth, your sugar daddy devouring every little noise you made while he kissed you thoroughly. You sank into him, reveling in the smooth glide of his lips and the possessive exploration of his tongue. Your fingers curled around the collar of his denim shirt and you clung to him, feeling the edge of something more in the way he kissed you. It left you breathless when you finally pulled away.

You fell back into your seat with a soft “oomph,” the breath rushing from your lungs when you looked into Ari’s eyes. His blue gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and there was something in depths of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—affection or fondness maybe.

A small, uncertain smile curled your lips, your heart thumping in your chest as you wondered if that’s how Ari looked at someone he truly cared about. Someone special to him, who had a more permanent place in his life than the sugar baby he called when he wanted to have some no-strings-attached fun.

For the briefest of moments, you could pretend Ari was more than your sugar daddy, and you were more than his sugar baby.

But then the moment ended, and Ari cleared his throat as he looked away, focusing on the wheel and gear shift of his car to put it in drive. A silent sigh of disappointment gusted from you, and you turned toward the passenger side window, intent on watching the city fly by once Ari eased into traffic.

To your surprise, Ari’s hand slipped into one of yours, his palm pressing against yours while he laced your fingers together. Your breath hitched with uncertainty even as the corners of your mouth flickered in a smile. It took you a moment to get used to the feeling of his hand in yours, turning it over to trace the veins on the back gently while he maneuvered his Lexus through the Manhattan streets.

It had only been a few months since you’d started seeing Ari, and while his touches were often greedy when you were fooling around, he hadn’t been prone to physical displays of affection since the first few dates you went on with him. Back then, he’d reached for your hand a few times, but after a point he’d stopped.

Truthfully, it had been a relief. One of your greatest fears was falling for a sugar daddy who didn’t return your feelings, and considering how handsome Ari was, you’d known it was a serious risk getting into a relationship with him. But he’d been so charming and carefree, you didn’t think it would be a problem to keep your heart out of things. He didn’t seem like he was looking for anything serious anyway.

So you’d focused on having fun, and that had been easy. Ari took you to expensive restaurants with delicious food in New York City, or he’d fly you somewhere else if he was itching to get away for a little bit. During meals, you’d chat about trivial things, then fall into bed together as soon as you were back in whatever hotel room Ari had booked for the night.

You didn’t quite know why your conversations didn’t go deeper than the shallow things you talked about, but you didn’t question it. It made everything so much easier if you didn’t truly know Ari—if he didn’t know you either. So you just stuck to safe topics, like planning dates and having sex.

Your relationship with Ari was a nice change of pace for you. He was far from your first sugar daddy, and you’d learned some hard lessons in your past relationships. Too often, sugar daddies wanted to know things you weren’t comfortable sharing, but Ari had never pried. He’d set boundaries and didn’t push them. You were grateful for that.

But another part of you, a part that started off small and was growing with every date you went on with Ari, yearned to know more about your sugar daddy. You wanted to know what he liked to do when he wasn’t working or taking you on dates. You wanted to know if he had any family, if he celebrated the holidays with them. You wanted to know if he’d ever had his heart broken.

Tamping down on those curious thoughts, you focused on the present—the music that was playing gently in the car, and the scenery passing by your window. The skyscrapers and high-rises of Manhattan had given way to the tightly-packed homes of the suburbs.

Biting your tongue against all the questions you wanted to ask, not even sure how you’d begin to try to get to know your sugar daddy better—let alone whether it was a good idea—you sat in silence with Ari. The suburbs eventually gave way to the lush forests and hilly countryside of the Hudson Valley, giving you something prettier to look at.

It was too early in September for the leaves to be changing yet, but there were glimpses of golden yellows and warm oranges among the green foliage. A hint of what was to come. Autumn was inevitable and you found comfort in the changing seasons.

Cozy weather was right around the corner, and you couldn’t wait for it. Hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, butterscotch cookies and mulled wine—you were a glutton for all the food and beverages associated with the autumn months. And you liked to make them yourself from scratch whenever possible.

It was part of the reason you’d wanted Ari to take you apple picking, though he didn’t know that. He’d just accepted the request and planned the date.

After a little while more of driving, Ari pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt track. There was a sign for Brothers’ Apple Orchard fixed to a worn, wooden fence, though dense trees hid the farm from view.

A little ways down the dirt road, the trees opened up into a large parking lot that was already packed with families and groups of friends going apple picking on the warm September afternoon. The sight and sounds of all the people had nerves twisting in your stomach, and you wondered if it had been a smart idea to go without panties to a place that was meant for wholesome fun.

You’d long since learned that Ari had an exhibitionist streak, and that day wasn’t the first time he’d told you to show up to one of your dates without panties. You’d always enjoyed the excitement in the inherent risk of wearing a dress without anything underneath, but he’d never taken you somewhere with so many families before. The consequences of getting caught seemed so much worse than they ever had before.

Ari must’ve felt your fingers tense in his because he gave you a comforting squeeze as he pulled his Lexus into an empty space and put the car in park. Once done, he looked to you, his smile faltering when he took in the way your brows were pinched and the corners of your mouth were turned down in an uncertain frown.

“Do you trust me, darling?” Ari asked, cupping your face and leaning across the car’s console to press his forehead to yours. His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, matching the sweeping of his other thumb against the back of your hand.

You were quiet for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip as you thought about his question—really thought about it.

It weighed on you a little that you didn’t know Ari very well, especially since a part of you desperately wanted to, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know his character. Ari had never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do, and he always checked in with you when you were together, making sure you were comfortable and having fun. So while you didn’t know his favorite color, you did trust him.

Exhaling slowly, you nodded, your forehead shifting against Ari’s. “I trust you, Ari,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper, like you were telling him a secret in the privacy afforded by the enclosed space of his car.

To your surprise, Ari sighed in relief at your words, the exhale so short and quiet, you wondered if you’d heard correctly. But you didn’t have time to analyze it because Ari was pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then pulling back to open his door and step out into the September sunshine.

You watched as Ari rounded the front of the Lexus, a charming grin on his face as he winked at you over the hood of his car. It was only because you were alone that you allowed yourself a silly little giggle, your mouth spreading across your face in a wide smile. He opened your door and offered you a hand to help you out.

“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show,” Ari murmured teasingly while you slid your hand into his, feeling the roughness of his palm against the pads of your fingertips.

A zing of thrill went straight to your core at his words, joining the sparks you felt when you touched him. The fingers of your other hand played with the hem of your dress as you stepped one foot out of the car. You darted a look around, finding you had some relative privacy between Ari’s Lexus and the next car over, and pretended to rearrange your skirt.

In reality, you flashed your bare slit for your sugar daddy, biting your lip and ducking your head when you heard his sharp inhale. Ari made a low, tortured sound and squeezed your fingers, practically pulling you out of the car before pinning you against the side.

“Naughty girl,” Ari growled in your ear, pressing his big body against yours so you were trapped between his hard muscles and the warm metal of the Lexus at your back. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep flashing that pretty pussy at me, darling.”

A breathless, disbelieving laugh gusted past your lips before you could stop it, even as your head went a little fuzzy from the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne filling your senses. It felt like the vetiver and leather on his skin was embedded in your mind as a reminder of all the pleasure he’d given you, and with his body pressed against yours, it took you a moment to respond.

“You’re the one who told me not to wear panties to our apple picking date, daddy,” you reminded him, gripping the soft cotton of Ari’s t-shirt beneath his denim shirt, your fingers brushing against the sides of his tapered waist. You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, brushing your body against his firm form enticingly while your lips grazed along his scruffy cheek. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to show you my achy, needy cunt.”

A low growl rumbled in Ari’s chest and he pressed you harder against the side of his car, his body impossibly warm and hard through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel every firm line of him against your soft curves, including the thick bulge digging into your stomach.

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ari’s hands skimmed down your sides and dove beneath the hem of your skirt, palming your ass and kneading your soft flesh with firm, possessive fingers.

“Darling, if you keep saying such filthy things, you’re gonna end up in the back of my car with my cock buried in your achy, needy cunt,” he purred, a threat in his tone that he punctuated by nipping at your ear, making you gasp and arch into him, pressing your tits against his solid chest. “You’re gonna get us banned from the orchard because you won’t be able to stop screaming while I pound your pussy—is that what you want?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes.

In the short time since you’d stepped out of the car, Ari had you feeling wet and aching and empty. Warmth flooded your body that had nothing to do with the sun shining brightly above your heads, and you wanted badly for Ari to free his cock from his slacks and slide it inside you.

But then the shrieking laughter of children punctured the bubble of lust surrounding you, and you remembered exactly where you were. Shaking your head, you dropped your gaze to the edge of Ari’s jaw while you sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the fresh air beyond the scent of your sugar daddy’s cologne.

Ari’s big body eased back, giving you more room to breathe and you ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of him. Instead, you let the crisp autumn breeze brushing against your cheeks and dancing between your thighs cool you down.

After giving you a moment, Ari curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. His brows were lowered and his eyes looked at you questioningly.

“Do you still want to go apple picking?” he asked softly, planting his other hand on the hood of his car, as if he needed to force himself not to touch you so you could answer his question. The thought made you smile, and his eyes dropped to your lips, his thumb brushing quickly over the bottom one.

“I do,” you said in a light, breathless voice, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. On a whim, you nipped at Ari’s thumb, giving him a smirk when his eyes darkened. “If you think you can keep it in your pants until later, daddy,” you taunted him, pushing your hips forward so his bulge pressed into your belly.

“You’re such fucking trouble,” Ari growled before his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. One of his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into him while the other cradled your head gently, holding you exactly where he wanted you while he devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping possessively past your lips until you were moaning softly into him.

A loud, clearing throat had you finally breaking apart. Both you and Ari turned your heads toward the sound, finding a blonde woman raising an eyebrow at the two of you before cutting her eyes pointedly to the children beside her. Your cheeks heated and you buried your face in Ari’s neck to muffle a cackling laugh.

“Apologies, ma’am,” Ari called gruffly, raising a hand in a repentant wave.

The woman huffed and rolled her eyes, which only made you laugh harder, pressing your face deeper into the warm curve of Ari’s shoulder as you tried to stay quiet. When the woman and her family were finally gone, you leaned back, giving Ari a cheeky grin.

“Think she’s gonna complain about us and get us banned?” you asked teasingly, sliding your hands up Ari’s chest until they rested on his shoulders, trying not to think about how easy it was to touch your sugar daddy so casually. “Tell them we were acting indecently in the parking lot?”

Ari laughed, chucking you under your chin gently before ducking down for a quick kiss. “If she does, I’ll just buy the farm,” Ari murmured against your mouth. “They can’t ban us if I own them.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at Ari’s pronouncement, surprise making your heart leap in your chest. Your sugar daddy had bought you plenty of expensive gifts since you’d started seeing him, but buying a farm so you could go apple picking in peace was on another level entirely. You had to wonder if Ari was serious, but the look in his eye was genuine when he pulled back.

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he rumbled, his heated gaze raking over your face, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips. His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slightly to the side, sending a little thrill through your body. “Or we aren’t making it into the orchard.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing thickly and bobbed your head in a nod. Then, you slid away from Ari, slipping from between his big body and the car and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Even with the warm September sun shining down on your shoulders, you felt a little cold without Ari’s heat and shivered. But you told yourself you were being ridiculous, shaking off the shiver and turning back to your sugar daddy.

Ari was standing with both hands planted on the hood of the car, his head hanging between them while he took deep breaths. He must’ve felt your attention on him because he lifted his head and gave you a charming smile.

“Just gimme a sec, darling,” he said, shooting you a wink before he straightened and dropped his hands to the bulge in his slacks.

You tried not to ogle your sugar daddy as he adjusted himself to make his hard length less prominent in his pants, but you knew what was hiding beneath his clothes and you knew how good his cock felt sliding inside you.

A sizzling, delicious warmth cascaded through your body, and you let yourself watch Ari’s big hands adjusting his bulge for a moment before tearing your eyes away and taking deep breaths of the fresh air to clear your head as much as possible.

A moment later, Ari slung his arm around your shoulders and together the two of you walked toward the entrance to the orchard.

It took effort, but you managed not to look down at the front of his pants, sure that if you did, neither of you would make it any further. And you did want to go apple picking. You had so many things you wanted to bake with the apples you were going to pick.

Keeping your chin up and your gaze forward, you and Ari walked to the small, squat red building that served as the entryway to the orchard. One side was for folks heading into the field of apple trees, and you joined the line while scrutinizing the size of baskets and crates you could get for picking.

Ari let you choose the size, and you picked a decent size wooden basket, thinking that would give you plenty of apples to use for baking. A farm worker explained that your apples would be weighed when you were done, and you paid per pound. Then they handed Ari a map that specified where each apple variety could be found, and the two of you were set free into the orchard.

“What kind of apples are we picking today?” Ari asked, peering at the paper in his hand while he snagged the basket from you.

You leaned into his side so you could read the map, and pointed when you found what you wanted. “Honeycrisp, honeycrisp!” you chanted, letting your excitement overtake you.

Ari chuckled, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket before giving you one of his charming grins. “Honeycrisp it is, honeycrisp,” he teased, smoothing his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours before he began walking into the orchard.

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at Ari’s gentle, familiar touch and the sweet new nickname. He’d only ever called you ‘darling’ before, and while you liked the pet name, ‘honeycrisp’ made you feel closer to your sugar daddy because it was meant for only you. It was something people in a real romantic relationship did, wasn’t it?

Your feet stumbled a little before you fell into step beside Ari. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked up at him consideringly, wondering—not for the first time—what he thought of you. If he thought you were someone worth caring about—if he thought of you at all when you weren’t together.

Your sugar daddy flashed an easy smile at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture, even as you thought about how difficult he was to read. He was always charming and easygoing, and it made it hard to figure out what he was really thinking, let alone what he was really feeling.

You did your best to push those pondering thoughts from your mind and simply enjoy the walk through the orchard with Ari. You reminded yourself that he’d made it clear he just wanted to have fun with you, so that’s what you were determined to do: Enjoy the warm day and pick some apples with your handsome sugar daddy.

The honeycrisp section of the orchard ended up being quite busy, with families and groups of friends forming small crowds around all the trees closest to the entrance of the field. You paused for a moment, your face falling in a small frown.

Ari must’ve seen your expression because he tugged on your hand and led you past the crowds, strolling down a long row of apple trees to go deeper into the orchard. The excited chatter of other people faded until you could barely hear them and the farm grew peaceful. Finally, you came to the edge of the orchard, and Ari pulled you to a stop at the end of a row of honeycrisp trees.

“Wow, that’s a lot of apples,” you said, peering up at the trees around you. They were bigger and taller than the ones you’d passed that were being picked over by the crowds. Their branches were practically bursting with ripe, red apples, the color swirling with yellow and green as it often did with that particular variety.

It seemed no one else had thought to escape the crowds and venture deeper into the orchard, because you couldn’t hear anyone else around. It was just you, your sugar daddy and the apple trees.

It was so perfect you couldn’t stifle the beaming grin that spread across your face.

“Should I go back for another basket—or a crate?” Ari asked, a grin in his tone.

When you finally tore your eyes away from the trees and their bounty, you found him staring at you, something like fondness in his gaze. It struck you that Ari had no idea why you wanted apples—you’d never told him you liked to bake or what you planned to do with the ones you picked—but he’d planned the date and was offering to help you pick as many apples as you wanted.

A warmth started in your chest, feeling as though it were wrapping around your heart and filling you up with a dizzying amount of sunshine, until your ribs were nearly bursting with it. Your cheeks felt warm, and your face ached a little from how wide you were smiling.

When you realized that you were staring back at Ari with just as much, if not more, affection than was in his gaze, you tried to tamp it down, forcing yourself to scoff lightly at his question.

“I think one will be plenty,” you said dryly, turning back to the trees and trying to calculate how many apples would fit into the basket Ari carried. Would it be enough for the apple crisp cheesecake recipe you’d been dying to try? You decided it would have to be.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, honeycrisp?” Ari asked softly, curling a finger beneath your chin and tipping your face to look up at him. He eased your bodies toward each other and your arms wrapped naturally around his waist.

It wasn’t until you’d pressed your hands to Ari’s back, your hands settling against the solid muscle of him, that you even realized what you were doing. When you did, you froze, feeling a little spooked by how easy it was becoming to sink into Ari’s casual touches and return them. It felt like there was a growing intimacy between the two of you, and you didn’t know quite yet how you felt about it.

“Honeycrisp?” you asked, latching on to the one thing you could think to say that would delay you needing to answer Ari’s question.

He’d never asked you what you were thinking before. When he checked in with you, his questions were always more direct, and more specific about what you were doing. You didn’t know if he really wanted to know, so you hoped a distraction might work.

Ari’s grin turned a little mischievous, like he knew what you were doing, and he wrapped his arms around you, hauling you up against his large, firm body. He ducked his head and nudged your nose with his, tickling your cheek with his beard until you laughed softly into his scruff.

“It fits, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that sent warmth dancing through your body. “You’re sweet as honey and as delicious as an apple crisp.” He kissed your lower lip, sucking on its plumpness with a slow, deliberate drag that had you nearly moaning into his mouth.

“Yeah, I like it,” you murmured when he released your lip, your voice obscenely breathy as your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t remember closing them. Being so close to Ari, having his arms around you and his lips on you, was rattling your brain a little.

“Now, darling honeycrisp, tell daddy what had you thinking so hard about those apples,” Ari rumbled, his voice sweetly coaxing as he brushed butterfly kisses along your jaw. His lips were soft and his beard was coarse, and the contrast of the sensations had you sighing softly and melting further into his arms. “Unless you don’t want to tell me?”

There was a thread of uncertainty in Ari’s tone as he voiced the question, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too hard by asking you to tell him what you’d been thinking about.

It was so different to how other sugar daddies—other men in general—had treated you. They’d always demanded you tell them whatever they wanted to know, as if they had a right to every part of you.

But Ari wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that, and it didn’t surprise you that the first time he asked something even remotely personal, he was still giving you the opportunity to sidestep the question if you didn’t want to answer. It made you want to tell him all the more.

“I was thinking about what I want to bake with the apples we pick,” you answered, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. “And trying to make sure one basket would be enough.”

Ari brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, as if thanking you for telling him. Pulling back a bit so he could look at you, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“You like to bake?”

You felt a little shy in the moment, ducking your head under the weight of his sparkling blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said shrugging as if it was no big deal. Then, when Ari didn’t reply right away, you went on, filling the silence by answering a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t usually tell sugar daddies—the one time I did, he got weird.”

Biting your lip to stem the flow of words from your mouth, you winced. You weren’t sure if Ari had known you’d had other sugar daddies before him, but it felt awkward to acknowledge the fact even if you weren’t ashamed of it. Besides, something inside you rebelled against the idea of lumping Ari in with all your other sugar daddies—he truly wasn’t like anyone else you’d been with.

“Weird how?” Ari asked in a tone gentler than any you’d heard him use before. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, but he didn’t try to make you look at him, just stroked your skin with his thumb. The gesture was so profoundly comforting that you lay your head on his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief.

“Once he knew I liked to bake, he expected me to bake for him,” you explained slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But not just bake—he bought me an apron and skimpy little dresses to wear underneath it with these ridiculous heels. He wanted me to bake for him and…service him.”

You pressed your face into Ari’s shoulder, remembering the experience and cringing over what you’d let that man talk you into. He was a major reason you appreciated Ari’s boundaries so much. You felt safer, like things couldn’t spiral out of your control, with the boundaries your sugar daddy had set in place.

After you’d answered his question, Ari stayed quiet, just holding you, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your neck. His big arms felt so steady around you that you couldn’t help but take comfort in them, and you went on, feeling safe enough to tell Ari the rest.

“He took all the joy out of baking,” you said in a small voice. “I stopped seeing him soon after, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

Ari exhaled a sharp breath and he squeezed you in his arms, holding you tight for a long moment before he eased up a little.

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to try your baking, but only if you want—hell, you can come over today and use my kitchen and bake in one of my shirts if you want.”

A relieved laugh gusted out of you, and you were so glad Ari understood that it took you a moment to realize he’d invited you to his apartment.

You’d never seen where he lived—and even though he paid for it, he’d never been inside your apartment either. Ari had always gotten hotel rooms, even for dates in in the city.

You hadn’t thought much about it beyond appreciating the fact that Ari didn’t act entitled to be in your space because he paid for it. But now he was inviting you to his apartment, his space, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

Pulling back, you gave him a curious look.

“Are you sure?”

Ari leveled you with a look of his own, and though his gaze was serious, there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he countered, his voice going low and rumbly as he went on. “If you start baking in my kitchen wearing only my shirt, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat more of you than whatever you make.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to drive home the lewd insinuation of his statement.

But despite his dirty warning—or perhaps because of it—you only warmed to the idea of baking in Ari’s apartment. It sounded fun in a way it hadn’t been with your past sugar daddy and you bounced on the balls of your feet as excitement flooded through you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, shifting your arms to wind around Ari’s neck. You used your hold on him to keep your balance as you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I already know what I want to make.”

Ari chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before pulling out his phone and telling you to pull up the recipe so that he could forward it to his assistant to make sure his apartment had everything you’d need. You did as he asked and handed his phone back to him, watching for his reaction to the recipe you’d chosen.

To your delight, Ari groaned like he was being tortured, his thumb flicking over the screen as he scrolled through the recipe to look at all the pictures.

“You’re gonna make this?” he asked, before reading out the title, “An Apple crisp cheesecake?” He made another agonized sound before looking to you for confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, knowing he was excited despite the miserable noises he was making, and nodded eagerly to answer his question.

Ari shook his head with a disbelieving look on his face and tapped out a message on his phone before pocketing it again. Then he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you against him again.

“You’re trouble for my pants, honeycrisp,” he muttered, dropping a too-brief kiss to your lips. “First you make me hard enough I feel like I’m gonna pop my zipper.” He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck in between his words, his mouth and beard tickling your skin while you melted into his arms. “Next you’re gonna fill me up with apple crisp cheesecake until my button breaks.”

You made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan as you tipped your head to the side, giving him more access to nip and lick at your neck while you clung to his shoulders, your knees going weak from your sugar daddy’s attention.

“You don’t need to eat that much cheesecake, Ari,” you wheezed in between bouts of laughter, giggling harder when he nipped playfully at your ear.

“If it’s as delicious as you, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop myself,” he flirted, kissing the spot just beneath your ear that had you shivering in his arms.

“Ari,” you said his name on a breathy exhale, and it was a good thing his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, because you didn’t have any hope of responding to his compliment. Instead, you showed him how much you appreciated it by kissing him back hard, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair as you clung to your sugar daddy and made out in the apple orchard.

By the time Ari pulled away to let you get some air, you were breathless and happier than you’d been in a long time. To your own surprise, you felt good about opening up to Ari and telling him about your past bad experience. He’d made you feel heard and cared for, all while giving you reason to believe he’d never do anything like that to you. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t with any of your other sugar daddies.

Because of all that, you were actually excited to finally see his apartment. It felt like an important step, the beginning of something new, perhaps something deeper, and though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in your belly, you were more excited than anything else.

And if you weren’t mistaken, Ari looked excited, too. His eyes were looking at you with affection in their depths, and his mouth was curved into a genuine smile.

As he grinned down at you, Ari let his hands slide down from your lower back to your ass, groping you through your dress before swatting the soft cheeks lightly.

“Alright, honeycrisp, these apples won’t pick themselves,” he teased good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a craving for some apple crisp cheesecake now.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh.

But you forced a serious expression onto your face and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, sir,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to tamp down on the smile that wanted to break free.

You lost the battle when Ari gave a loud laugh, his head tipping back and the sun shining down on his golden face while he gave into your silliness. He recovered quickly, though, looking back down at you fondly as he rumbled, “That’s ‘yes, daddy’, to you, honeycrisp.” Then he slapped your ass a little harder to urge you to get a move on before he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and turned in the direction of the apple trees.

To ease some of the disappointment you both felt, Ari gave you a salacious wink that had your cheeks warming again. You couldn’t even blame the September sun on the heat in your face. Your sugar daddy was just so hot, it was hardly even fair.

To distract yourself from wanting to curl up in Ari’s arms and say to hell with apple picking, you snatched up the basket he’d dropped, arching your back and popping your ass to give him a peek at your pussy, then straightened and skipped to the nearest apple tree to start picking.

When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you saw Ari’s eyes were heated and staring at the way your skirt fluttered around your ass, his big hand palming his bulge in his pants. You wiggled your ass for him, turning back around to hide your laughter when his long-suffering groan met your ears.

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ari and you turned your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, catching him swiping a hand down over his face while he shook his head. Something about the gesture sent your heart pitter-pattering in your chest—which only got worse when Ari caught you looking and winked while he adjusted himself in his pants.

You felt giddy as you refocused on the tree in front of you, your breaths coming in soft little gasps as excitement and desire swirled in your core. It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts and remind yourself that you could not jump your sugar daddy in the middle of an apple orchard that was open to the public—no matter how much you desperately wanted to.

With slightly shaking fingers, you began to pick apples, doing your best to pay attention to what you were doing and make sure you were selecting the best fruit you could find. If Ari was going to try your baking for the first time, you wanted your apple crisp cheesecake to be the best that it could possibly be.

Ari came to stand beside you, and though you wanted him to put his hands on you, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to the task of picking apples, even reaching up to the branches that were too high for you. In turn, you showed Ari how to check for bruises and other unwanted things in the fruit before adding them to the basket at your feet.

Between the two of you picking apples, it wasn’t long before the basket was nearly overflowing, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t want it to end. So when Ari asked if you still needed more, you gave him a shy smile and said just a few. You didn’t want him to go get another basket—because, really, you didn’t need that many apples—but you didn’t want the apple picking part of your date to end just yet.

Your sugar daddy seemed to understand your desire to linger because he didn’t call you out on the fact that your basket could barely hold any more apples. Instead, he flashed you an indulgent grin and nodded, joining you under the apple tree where you’d been picking.

But rather than moving beside you, as he’d stood while you’d worked together, he came up behind you so that his chest was brushing against your back. His hands settled lightly on your waist, loosely caging you in beneath the apple tree with your body facing the trunk.

He ducked down so his scruffy, bearded cheek was pressed to yours and pointed to a cluster of apples just out of your reach. “Why don’t you grab one of those?” he suggested, the practiced innocence in his tone nearly making you snort with laughter.

You knew Ari was playing a game, you could feel it in the mischievous tension crackling in the air, and you were almost certain it would lead to some sort of naughtiness in the orchard. But your body was wound tight, and you wanted to get up to a little mischief with your sugar daddy, so you decided to play along.

“I can’t reach, daddy,” you simpered, proving your point by reaching your hand up to show that the apples were too high up, your fingertips only barely grazing the fruit. You used the movement to deliberately push your ass back into Ari’s lap and you had to smother a giggle when you felt the hard ridge of him in his pants.

“Let me help, honeycrisp,” Ari rumbled, and though you couldn’t see his grin, you knew it was there by the warmth in his voice. You bit your lip against your own wide smile.

Ari’s hand slid down your side, all the way to the back of your thigh, before he gently grabbed your leg behind your knee to lift it until your foot was planted on a low branch. Then he guided your hips deeper into his lap, where you could feel the long, stiff length of his cock wedging between your ass cheeks through your thin dress.

“C’mon, honeycrisp, reach a little bit more,” he urged, tilting your hips and bending his knees so that his hard bulge was pressed against your bare slit. Then he surged forward, lifting you just a little off the ground while he dragged the thick length of his cock against your weeping pussy.

You fell helplessly against the trunk of the tree, the apples forgotten as a low moan slipped past your lips. Ari teased you with his clothed cock, and your spine arched to bare more of yourself to his hard bulge. Craning your neck to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder, you gave him a desperate, pleading look.

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a whine, pushing back into his lap and wiggling your ass side to side to try to entice him into giving you something more. You’d been teasing each other all day, and you were hitting a breaking point. You needed him to give you something.

Ari chuckled, burying his face in the side of your neck, his deep laughter rolling deliciously down your spine and settling between your thighs, until you were pulsing with desire. He curled around your body until he was surrounding you, your smaller form fitting perfectly within the cage of his arms.

He reached above you and easily plucked the apple he’d directed you to pick from the spot you hadn’t been able to reach and presented it to you. At the same time, his other hand began to wander, groping your soft tits until you moaned prettily again for him.

“Does it pass your inspection, darling?” he asked, urging you to focus on the apple he held in front of you.

Truthfully, you didn’t care anymore about picking apples—you had plenty of them in the basket at your feet—but you did your best to look it over. You turned it over in your trembling fingers, checking for bruises and bugs. Finding it to be perfect, you nodded.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Ari murmured, taking the apple from your hands and pulling away to set it on top of the pile in your basket.

You had to bite back a whine at the loss of him, but he was back against you a moment later, his warmth surrounding you as his arms curled around your body. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your tits, kneading them in his big, strong hands until your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a soft whimper of need.

“Now is that enough apples, honeycrisp?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, nodding weakly as you arched your spine and pushed your chest into Ari’s hands. He rewarded you by pinching and plucking your nipples through the soft cotton of your dress, wringing a weak whine from your lips. “Plenty.”

“Good,” Ari rumbled, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his mouth licking and nipping at your skin like you tasted as sweet as the fruit you’d been picking, his rough beard making you shiver in his hold. “Because if I had to see your pretty pussy winking at me from beneath your skirt one more time while you were bending over or reaching for some apples, it was going to drive me fucking wild.”

A low moan slipped free from your lips while one of Ari’s hands skimmed down your front, sliding under the hem of your dress and cupping you between your thighs. His big hand covered your entire mound, which was sticky with your juices.

He growled when he felt just how wet you were, the sound reverberating down your spine and making your pussy spasm, more wetness dripping from your slit and into his palm.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through gritted teeth, his voice rough with his own barely leashed desire. “You’re soaking wet for me, honeycrisp—I gotta feel you,” he said, an urgency in his voice as he sank two fingers into your drenched hole, pulling another moan from you. His hips were grinding his bulge against your ass so hard, you could feel him throbbing. “Gotta feel this tight warm cunt on my cock, ‘m not gonna make it back to the car—need you now.”

“Ari,” you whispered harshly, trying to sound angry, but the two syllables of his name came out dipped in desire and you felt your sugar daddy shudder against your back, his fingers working harder inside your sopping cunt, his palm making soft slapping sounds every time he bottomed out. “We shouldn’t.”

Despite your weak protest, you rolled your head to the side on Ari’s shoulder, peering through the branches of the tree toward where you’d left the crowds of other apple pickers. They were still so distant you couldn’t hear them over your soft, gasping breaths, but there was no telling when someone might stray from the others. They could stumble upon you at any moment.

The only protection you had from wandering eyes were the branches of the apple tree. Thankfully, they were close enough and the leaves dense enough that you couldn’t see much beyond Ari’s big body, but if someone came close enough, they’d no doubt hear you or Ari, and then you’d be caught.

“We’re going to get arrested,” you scolded in a hushed tone before turning your head to bury your face in Ari’s beard and stifle the moan on the tip of your tongue. He hadn’t stopped fucking you with his fingers and your reluctance was ebbing from your body just as surely as your desire was leaking into his hand.

Instead of responding to your statement with the seriousness you felt it deserved, Ari simply chuckled against your cheek and used his thumb to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand, your body wordlessly begging him for more while you muffled a whine into the underside of his jaw.

“We’ll be fine, honeycrisp,” Ari soothed in a placating tone that made you growl like a feral kitten into his throat, so he switched tactics, his voice going low and rough. “Don’t you wanna feel me, honey?” He asked, grinding his hard length into your soft ass until you mewled pathetically. “Don’t you wanna drip your sweet juices all over daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to give in. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew there was a very real possibility that you could get caught, and it was only your fear of the potential consequences that held your words at bay. But Ari was well acquainted with the fear that held you back, and he knew exactly how to help you break through it.

“Just the tip,” he murmured, his voice so warm you could hear the smile in it. “Just take the tip, and stay quiet, and we’ll be golden.” He nuzzled your face, his beard rasping over your soft skin and sending tingles of delight all through your body.

You knew it was a ploy. You knew that Ari knew that you’d never be able to settle for just the tip of his cock—after all, you never had before. But it was easier to pretend you could settle for just the tip than to say yes to Ari fucking you in the middle of the apple orchard when there were people not too far away. It was the small step you needed to break free from your fear.

Lifting your head, you looked around. There was nothing to see except dense branches and leaves and endless apples. Ari’s body hid you entirely from sight, and you still couldn’t hear anyone else close by, so if you stayed quiet, you really could get away with a quickie in the orchard.

A wicked smile spread across your face and you turned your head to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder.

“Just the tip?” you asked, you voice laced with suggestion. You knew Ari was going to end up sinking much more of his cock into you, but you wanted to play along for a little bit. “Promise, daddy?” Your question was meant to sound innocent, but you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips wavered in an eager grin.

Ari chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, because he knew exactly what you were doing. “I promise, darling…” he said, trailing off as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with an embarrassingly wet sound that made him grin. “Unless, of course, you beg me like a good girl.”

“Hurry, daddy,” you cooed, wiggling your ass against Ari’s bulge, a teasing smile on your lips as you watched him over your shoulder.

Ari’s eyes darkened and then he was using his clean hand to fumble with his belt and fly while he swatted your pussy playfully with his drenched fingers. You gasped and twitched, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as desperate keening sound slipped from your mouth.

At your urging, Ari wasted no time, shoving his pants open and pulling out his cock, pushing your dress up over your ass and rubbing the tip through your drenched folds. Both of you groaned, Ari’s face falling forward against your shoulder while you grabbed onto the trunk of the tree in front of you, trying to stay upright while your knees trembled.

Then Ari was pushing inside, the head of his cock sinking into the warmth of your pussy. The stretch of him was too delicious, and you moaned louder than was wise, but you couldn’t help yourself. He felt too good.

“What’d I say about staying quiet?” Ari rumbled in your ear, right before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. The tart taste of your wetness mixed with apples burst on your tongue and you moaned again, licking wildly at his fingers to get as much of it as you could. “Mm, that’s it, clean up your mess, honeycrisp—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

Ari’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady while he fucked you with just the tip of his cock, pushing into your tight hole and pulling free until the tease of it drove you wild.

“Mm-oah, mm-oah,” you begged around Ari’s fingers, trying to push back on Ari’s stiff length and take more of him, but he held you still, forcing you to take only what he gave you. You bounced impatiently, the foot that was still lifted on one of the branches shaking it so furiously, the leaves rattled and a few apples dropped to the ground.

“Oh, did you want something, honey?” Ari asked, his tone filled with mocking innocence as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You shot him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder, pouting.

“I need more, daddy, please,” you begged, giving him your best desperate, pleading look while you pushed back against his hold, reveling in the way he didn’t let you move to take him further. “Please split me open with your thick cock, daddy—I need it.”

Ari blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, I wanna tease you some more, but I can’t—need you too bad, honey,” Ari rasped, squeezing your hip while his other arm wrapped loosely around the front of your throat, so the bulge of his bicep was just beneath your chin.

“Remember, stay quiet.” His hushed words were your only warning before Ari slammed into you, shoving every inch of his hard cock into your wet, needy cunt.

A scream welled up inside your chest, your mouth dropping open as it clawed its way up your throat, but at the last second before it was set free, you managed to bury your face in Ari’s bicep. Your teeth sank into his warm, golden skin and you bit your sugar daddy while you screamed into his arm.

His tortured groan was loud, but only because it poured directly into your ear, the sound dripping in pleasure as your inner walls squeezed his hard cock and made room for the thick length of him in the depths of your body.

Bliss consumed you, the stinging edge of Ari pushing inside you so fast and stretching you so suddenly making your body burn all the hotter. Already, your cunt was pulsing around Ari’s cock like you wanted him to stay buried inside you for a long time and you sighed happily, pulling your teeth from your sugar daddy’s arm.

While Ari gave you a moment to adjust, his hand kneading the plush softness of your hip, you kissed and licked at the indents your teeth had left in his skin. He chuckled, brushing a kiss against your temple, an acceptance of your wordless apology.

“Ready, honey?” Ari asked softly, nuzzling your cheek while he rolled his hips, grinding his cock into you in a way that had you moaning again. “This is gonna be hard and fast. I can’t—I gotta pound your pretty pussy,” he rumbled, his tone almost apologetic with the urgency in it. “Gotta feel you dripping around me, squeezing me, milking me.”

His hand shifted from your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers finding your slippery clit and rubbing the puffy pearl. He grunted when you clenched around him, his fingers stroking you harder and winding your pleasure higher while he rolled his hips, fucking you in short, sharp thrusts.

“Fuck, honey, fuck,” he bit out, his breaths heavy in between every word. “Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, yes, move,” you cried propping your chin on Ari’s bicep while your nails dug into the trunk of the tree in front of you. You used your grip to brace yourself and push back on Ari’s cock, taking him deeper with every thrust. “Need you, daddy, please, please, please,” you babbled, your voice coming out strained with the effort to keep it quiet.

“Fucking right you need me—just like I need you,” Ari growled, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, driving into you with so much force, you could hear the soft sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. “You have the sweetest, tightest pussy I’ve ever had—best fucking pussy in the world. I dream about it when I’m not with you,” he confessed, his words rough like he’d pulled them from the depths of his soul. “Dream about pumping you full of my come until your belly’s bulging with me, honey.”

Your mind reeled at Ari’s confession even as your body sank deeper into his hold. You were still trying to catch up on processing his words but your pussy was clenching around his cock greedily, as if begging for him to come inside you already.

In that moment, a singular truth crystalized in your mind: You’d been deluding yourself into thinking you didn’t care for Ari—that he didn’t care for you. It was very clear that Ari did care about you, and you cared about him.

All those boundaries in your relationship, you realized you’d been the one creating them, not Ari. Ari had been patient, chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself until he’d somehow found his way in. He’d dreamed about you, and you’d thought he was just another sugar daddy looking to have some fun. You’d been so wrong about him.

At the weight of your realization, you nearly collapsed against the tree, but managed to hold yourself up, sobbing with pleasure and emotion. Ari seemed to sense the shift in your mood and he slowed his movements, as if he was going to stop, but you shook your head, feeling feral with your need for him.

“Please, daddy,” you cried softly, your voice hoarse with the flood of affection filling your heart. It was emphasized by the feeling of Ari inside you, surrounding you, your body cradled in his arms while he fuckd you like he wanted you to never forget the feel of him. “Fill me up, make me your perfect little cumslut, daddy, just keep me—keep me.”

“Always,” he rasped, his lips at your temple. The promise in that single word buried deep in your heart, taking root.

Something changed between you and Ari, and you knew he felt it too because he started fucking you faster than before, his hips snapping harder against your ass so he could push deep into your cunt with every thrust.

“Fuck, honey, ‘m almost there, are you close?” he rasped, his tone desperate.

Your head bobbed in a nod.

“Uh huh, ‘m close, just need a little more…” you trailed off in a whine, trying to push back on his cock and grind your clit against his stroking fingers at the same time.

Thankfully, Ari understood what you were begging for, and he rubbed you harder, his fingers relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure while he rutted into your cunt.

“C’mon, honey, come on daddy’s cock,” he rumbled in your ear, his voice deliciously deep to match his dirty words and push you closer to the edge. “Be a good little cumslut and milk my cock, make me fill your sweet pussy with all my come, honey.”

You buried your face into Ari’s bicep again, your teeth sinking into his skin as you screamed your release. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body, until your limbs were trembling and your fingers were shaking against the outside of Ari’s arm, having forgotten when you’d let go of the tree to cling to him.

With a grunt, Ari’s cock twitched inside you, reacting to the sting of your bite and the merciless grasping of your inner walls around his hard length. His hips stuttered, then he started fucking into you wildly, his thrusts falling out of rhythm while he chased his own release.

“Good girl, honey, so good, feel so fucking good milking daddy’s cock,” he muttered, cutting off on a deep groan while his cock throbbed inside you.

Ari spilled himself deep in your cunt and you moaned weakly, pulling back from his arm and licking his golden skin to sooth the indents your teeth had left behind. He tasted like salty skin and sweet apples and you hummed in pleasure as you rode out the remainder of your release with your bodies writhing together.

After a few long moments basking in the glorious afterglow of coming together, Ari took a deep breath and shifted his arm, chuckling lowly when you whimpered at the loss of his bicep to lick and kiss. He made it up to you by turning your head and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all the affection you finally knew he felt for you into the way his mouth moved against yours.

When he pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless, Ari leveled you with a serious look.

“You know you’re special to me, don’t you, honey?” he asked, using the new pet name that you knew was shortened from ‘honeycrisp’.

You’d been too wrapped up in your own head to notice the way it rolled off his tongue—it was an endearment for someone Ari cared about, someone who was special to him, as he said.

Biting your kiss-swollen lower lip, feeling a little abashed that it had taken you so long to realize what Ari felt for you, you nodded. You could feel your cheeks warming, and tried to duck your head, but Ari only chuckled and caught your lips in another kiss, though it was briefer.

When he’d kissed away your anxiety, Ari set about extricating himself from you, pulling free from your body and helping you down from the tree. He quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and then helped smooth your dress back over your hips before doing up his slacks. You turned to him, brushing his hair back from his face and warming at the way he was smiling down at you.

Ari had an infectious grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it, your heart feeling warm and cozy in your chest.

The two of you smiled goofily as you helped right each other’s appearances. Once you’d fixed yourselves as much as possible, Ari stooped down to pick up the basket of apples you’d picked, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and planting a kiss on the back of your palm before heading off back to the farm stand.

As you walked past all the crowds of people, you were certain everyone knew what you and Ari had gotten up to in the orchard, but no one stopped or stared or said anything. They were all too focused on their own friends and families and the task of apple picking to notice you and Ari, or your big, silly smiles.

At the farm stand, Ari paid for the apples, then loaded them into his Lexus before helping you into the passenger seat. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, then rounded the front of the car and slid into his own seat.

You were quiet on the drive back to the city, your mind ruminating over the beginning of your relationship with Ari. When you thought back to your first few dates, you realized you’d been the one who was hesitant to answer any personal questions from your sugar daddy—and you’d never asked any of him. You’d also been the one to balk at the idea of either going back to his place or your apartment, leading him to get hotel rooms.

Ari had been the one to respect your boundaries, even as he’d tried to get to know you better. He’d tried to ask you questions you felt comfortable answering—it was how he’d found out you liked apple picking, because you’d chosen it as a fall-themed date. He’d been so careful with you, it made your heart hurt a little that you’d kept him at arm’s length for so long.

Turning from the scenery of the foliage fading into the cityscape of New York, you ran your eyes over Ari’s profile. His expression was easy, relaxed and open, the hint of a smile on his face. You’d thought he just always looked like that, but you realized it was because he was with you.

Reaching across the center console, you scooped up Ari’s hand and laced your fingers through his before settling your joined hands on your thigh. He glanced at you, shooting you a quick smile and squeezing your fingers, before turning back to the road.

By the time the car pulled into the underground parking garage of the high-rise on the Upper West Side where Ari lived, you were resolved to try to let your guard down a little more around him. Ari had shown you he could be trusted with your heart just as much as your body, and you were determined to show him you trusted him with all of you.

Still, it was a little intimidating walking into his apartment for the first time, the anxiety that he was only bringing you there because he wanted something from you—something you didn’t want to give—was a knot in your stomach. But then you looked at Ari and you realized he’d never do that to you. He was bringing you to his home because he wanted to, not because he wanted something from you.

Ari’s penthouse was warm and cozy, decorated in dark brown wood and warm golden tones, with hints of blue that reminded you of the ocean. You realized you knew Ari was a fan of the beach, because so many of the trips he’d taken you on had been close to the water. Walking into his home felt like walking into a reflection of his heart, and you didn’t take that for granted.

After setting down the apples on a table next to the door and stepping out of your shoes, Ari took you on a tour of his apartment, both the upstairs and the downstairs (because it was big enough to have two floors!). He showed you every room, including his bedroom and his study, tugging you into each by your joined hands when you seemed hesitant to enter his spaces.

Ari left the kitchen for last, but the two of you lingered in the living room, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. Ari wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you lightly from side to side, almost like you were dancing.

“You have a beautiful home, Ari,” you said, looking out over the city and appreciating the way the buildings and treetops were cast in the warm, yellow glow of afternoon sunshine. An errant thought crossed your mind, that you could get used to the view from Ari’s apartment. It was stunning.

“Thank you, honey,” Ari murmured, dropping a kiss to the base of your throat while his arms squeezed you tighter. He buried his face in your neck, so his words were a little muffled when he said, “I always hoped you’d like it enough to want to come over again and… again.”

You could hear in the pause of his words where he’d stopped himself from saying something different, and you wondered over it. But you knew yourself well enough not to ask. If just walking into his apartment felt like a big step, you knew asking him what he’d meant to say might spook you a bit too much, and you didn’t want that. So you just hummed in response.

Ari chuckled, like he somehow knew it was taking effort for you to be in his apartment, and he thought it was cute how difficult it was for you. His mouth trailed up your neck, effectively distracting you from your thoughts, before nipping at the edge of your jaw.

“Want to see the kitchen now?”

Nodding so eagerly, you nearly head-butted him, you turned in his hold and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Ari gave you an affectionate smile, then grabbed your hand and led the way to the kitchen.

He’d saved it for last, and when you stepped inside, you understood why. A gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the beautiful space. The color scheme of the apartment carried over to the kitchen, with dark brown cabinets and lighter wood countertops. There was a pop of blue in the backsplash, and all kinds of expensive gadgetry.

You were so busy taking everything in, it took you a moment to spot the brand-new stand mixer sitting on the counter in a color that matched the rest of the room. Beside it were some of the ingredients you’d need for the apple crisp cheesecake you’d told Ari you wanted to make and you realized his assistant must’ve already come and gone.

Walking over and running your fingers over the sleek mixer, tears welled up in your eyes. It took effort to blink them away, and you shook your head slightly at yourself. It seemed silly to be crying over a stand mixer, but it felt bigger than that, like it was a sign of Ari making room in his life for you. He wanted you there, he wanted to keep you, like you’d begged him to.

“Everything ok, honey?” Ari asked, coming to stand behind you, but not touching you, giving you some space while you processed everything you’d realized that day.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice thick, no doubt giving away the emotion you were feeling. Before you could overthink it, you spun around and threw your arms around Ari’s shoulders, launching yourself at him for a tight hug. “You bought a mixer,” you stated, as if that was explanation enough.

A soft laugh rumbled in Ari’s chest and he swept a hand down your spine, comforting you while a few tears leaked down your cheeks and into the collar of his denim shirt.

“Well, yeah,” he responded good-naturedly, a smile in his voice. “I did say I wanted you to want to come back, didn’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, laughing a little at his comment. Then you murmured, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ari said, sounding genuine.

For a long moment, you hugged him, and then you pulled away, swiping at your cheeks to clear away any tears or makeup.

“Is the offer still open to bake while wearing only your shirt?” you asked, tipping your head back to smile shyly at Ari while your fingers played with the collar of his button-up.

A grin spread across his face while shrugged out of the denim shirt. Then, to your surprise, he yanked his t-shirt off over his head, asking you which one you wanted.

You took the denim one with fumbling fingers, your eyes raking over his bare chest while warmth bloomed deep in your core. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Ari shirtless, of course, but you never got tired of looking at the expanse of his golden skin, dusted with dark brown hair that you wanted to rake your nails through.

Ari let you look for a moment, using your distraction to help you slip out of your dress. Then he eased your arms into the denim shirt and buttoned it up, his big hands pausing briefly to grope your soft body every few moments.

There was a glimmer of deep satisfaction in his blue eyes when he stepped back to look at you in his shirt.

“Mm, you look so pretty, honey,” he rasped, taking one last look before crowding you into the counter at your back. His gaze darkened as he stared down at you, his grin turning wolfish when he rumbled, “I think I need a snack before you start baking.”

That was your only warning. You shrieked with surprised laughter when Ari hauled you back into the living room and tossed you down on one of his leather couches. Your giggles cut off abruptly in a moan when Ari descended on you, burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you like he was starving.

Your fingers twisted in Ari’s brown hair while he ate your pussy, encouraging you to scream your pleasure in the comfort of his home while he made you come against his mouth. You shattered apart with a loud cry while he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth greedily devouring your release, and the come he’d buried inside you earlier, like he hadn’t eaten in days.

When he finally pulled away, Ari’s beard was soaked in your juices and he grinned up your body while you lay limply on the couch, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Chuckling at the sight of you sprawled out on his couch, Ari pressed wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, licking the traces of your release from your skin.

“Fuck, honey, I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, his big hands kneading your plush thighs and hips, proving his point since it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching you. The blatant need and desire in his voice sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“If you keep going, I won’t have the strength to bake,” you warned him in a breathless voice, managing to lift your head enough to give him a stern look.

Ari laughed into your thigh, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he raised up and gave you a wink. “Can’t have that,” he quipped, grabbing your hands and helping you up off the couch. You stumbled a little, your legs weak from your orgasm, but Ari caught you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist while he led you into the kitchen.

Once you were propped up against the counter near the stand mixer, Ari left to retrieve the apples from the entryway. When he returned, you noticed he carried a pair of slippers that matched the ones he’d put on. Without saying a word, he set them on the floor next to your bare feet and carried on to start washing the fruit in the sink.

You stepped into the slippers, your heart warming when you realized they were a perfect fit. For a long moment, you stared at Ari’s bare shoulders and broad back, wondering how you’d ever kept such a thoughtful man at arm’s length. Well, you decided, once again, you wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

Turning back to the stand mixer and the ingredients, you organized everything on the counter, going to the fridge to pull out everything else you’d need.

To your surprise, you and Ari worked well together in the kitchen. Once he was done cleaning all the apples you’d picked, he asked what he could do next, and you put him to work peeling and coring the fruit while you worked on the other elements of the cheesecake.

When it came time to bake, Ari took the pan from your hands and popped it into the oven while you set a timer. Tension crackled between the two of you after the oven had snapped closed, and you came together in a flurry of limbs. Ari guided you back into the living room while he kissed you, his hands making quick work of removing all your remaining clothes.

You rode Ari to another orgasm while the sweet treat baked, the golden glow of the New York City sunset keeping the apartment awash in warm hues that made you feel cozy—like you were home.

Once you were both sated, you collapsed on top of Ari’s chest, burying your face in his neck and nuzzling into his beard. You inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, vetiver and leather, with a little bit of cinnamon from baking, and melted against him. You wanted to breathe in nothing but that scent for the rest of your life—and you refused to let that thought scare you.

Ari pulled a flannel blanket off of the back of his couch and wrapped it around you both, your pussy keeping his cock warm while you cuddled together until the timer went off.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Ari take the baking pan out of the oven wearing only an oven mitt on his hand. You, meanwhile, stood off to the side with the flannel blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He’d told you the blanket was highly flammable and insisted you stay clear of the oven with a stern look that made your insides go all gooey.

The two of you made out in the kitchen and made dinner while the cheesecake cooled. All the while, you kept thinking how easy it was to be with Ari, how you could see what your life would be like together. And you liked how it looked. You liked kissing him whenever you wanted and asking him about what movies he liked and what was the last book he read.

After dinner, you ate a slice of cheesecake together, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Ari’s face, enjoying every little groan and expression of pleasure he made. It was erotic enough that you left the last bite for him, getting to your feet to walk around the table and straddle his lap.

He fucked you to another, blisteringly hot orgasm, and laughed only a little when you fell against his chest with an exhausted, but satisfied, sigh.

In a soft voice, Ari asked if you’d stay the night, and the hope in his tone made your heart warm enough that you ignored the brief flicker of anxiety the question prompted. You shushed the worry inside you and said yes.

Together, you cleaned up the kitchen and then Ari led you upstairs to the bedroom, pausing every few minutes to kiss you, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there.

He gave you some of his clothes to wear to bed and showed you where everything was in his bathroom. You couldn’t help but notice that he had all of your favorite products, and a spare toothbrush for you. You smiled as you got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with him.

“Did you have a good day, honey?” Ari asked, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You were wearing one of his t-shirts—a clean one—while he had on a pair of boxer briefs. You hummed happily when your legs tangled together, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and tickling hair against you.

“Mm, I had the best day, Ari,” you murmured sleepily, the comfort and warmth of his bed making it easy to let your exhaustion creep in. “Kiss,” you said, turning your head and repeating the greeting Ari had given you when he’d picked you up.

Your sugar daddy chuckled, the sound rumbling down your spine and making your heart flutter with delight. Your eyes were already closed, but you could feel his smile when he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll still be here in the morning,” he promised, his words assuaging a fear you hadn’t realized you’d felt, and you sighed in contentment.

Everything had changed between you and Ari, and you couldn’t help but think it was for the better. You were still a little anxious about opening yourself up to someone, especially a sugar daddy, but Ari had shown you that you could trust him—really trust him, with all your heart—and you were determined to do just that.

“G’night, Ari,” you whispered into the pillow that smelled like him, a hint of a smile in the curve of your mouth as sleep claimed you.

“Good night, honey,” Ari crooned in your ear, his voice gentle and soft and oh so affectionate. “My sweet, sweet honeycrisp.”

#ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #sugar daddy ari levinson #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #sugar daddy au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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keikikait · 26 days ago

Text

ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜꜰᴀʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.7k

summary: rafe helps you after your car breaks down

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, smut? (it's just masturbation + some suggestive stuff), rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, rafe gets the reader high on coke (she agrees, but he thinks some weird things), idk anything ab cars but i tried, also i've never done cocaine but i tried to do some research

a note: happy halloween.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You didn't understand what was wrong with your car.

No matter how many times you took it to an auto shop, how much money you spent, it kept breaking down. Your check engine light would come on at the most random times, even after just getting it fixed the day before. You were spending all of your money on trying to fix your clunker, a 1993 Lexus LS400 that your father was certain was a waste of time. In the long run, it would be cheaper to buy a new car, but you loved it too much to say goodbye. The AC was surprisingly cold, providing much needed relief for the hot North Carolinian summers. It didn't take much to fill it up, and you had beau coups of trunk space. It was your car and that's all that mattered to you.

You had decided to take your car to a different auto shop, across the thoroughfare onto the mainland. You had thought that a fresh pair of eyes would keep you from coming back the week after because your transmission was shot again. The mechanic was able to fix your transmission in no time, sending you off on your way with a hefty bill. It was raining, a summer thunderstorm on the horizon, and you couldn't wait to get home.

You had just passed over the thoroughfare back onto Kildare when your car started to rumble and shake. You feel like screaming as you pull over, banging your palms on the steering wheel. Your car rumbles and shakes, smoke billowing out of the hood. You reach behind your seat and grab your raincoat, putting it on and putting the hood up. You grab your phone and turn on the flashlight, reaching down to pull back the lever to pop the hood. Afterwards, you step out, pulling your hood tight over your head as you lift the hood and prop it up. You look around, waving the smoke away from your face, but you don't even know what you're looking for.

Gravel crunches behind you as another car approaches, casting a shadow over your hood. You freeze, sliding your phone open to the emergency call. You look over your shoulder as someone climbs out.

Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, in his own navy blue raincoat. He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “Having car troubles?”

You tense up a little. You knew Rafe, of course you did, but your interactions with him were few and far in between. You were on the sidelines for most of his problems with JJ, John B, and Pope, not wanting to piss off the most powerful man in the Outer Banks. You finally find your voice, fidgeting with the sleeves of your raincoat. “Yeah. I just got it fucking fixed, too.” You sigh.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at you. He had noticed you long before you had even crossed paths, but now, here you were. Standing in the rain, soaked and shivering. He walked over, joining you at your side, and he glanced into your engine, not even pretending to be able to fix it. “You know... this old clunker is gonna cost you more in the long run than if you just got rid of it. Might as well cut your losses while you can, angel.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname, but you ignore it. “It’s my car, Rafe, I can’t just like…abandon her.”

He chuckled, his gaze moving from the hood of your clunker to your face. Your big pretty eyes, your cheeks already beginning to flush from the cold rain. He stepped closer, pushing against the hood so it was angled more, blocking your view of the world around. He leaned against it, crossing his arms, and he stared down at you. “You can, you just don't want to. There's a difference. You like this thing. You're attached.”

You sigh again. “Well duh, Rafe, it’s my only car. I know that concept is hard for you to understand.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could help you?” Rafe asks, taking a step back. He glances under the hood again, although he’s just as clueless as you.

“Help me?” You ask.

He looks over at you again, his expression blank. “I’m a pretty powerful guy, you know. It wouldn’t take much to… oh, I don’t know, maybe find you a newer car. Or,” his lips twitch up into his signature smirk. “Just pay for the repairs.”

“I don’t want to take your money, you know.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Why not?” He asks with a scoff. “It’s just money, angel. I have plenty.”

You sigh. You really don’t want to do this with him. “Look, just…thank you for stopping to check on me. I’m just gonna call a tow truck and wait out the rain.”

He watched as you turned to your phone, a heavy frown settling on his lips. That wasn’t going to do. Rafe suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. “Or—“ he speaks before you’re able to dial, his touch firm but not bruising. “You could just come with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“But I want to,” he says. “It’s raining, you’re cold and alone, and you’re gonna wait on a tow truck who may not show up for hours. Your little car is about to get flooded. Come on, sweetheart.“

You hesitate, reaching over to put the hood of your car back down. “I don’t know, Rafe. I feel bad, you know? Making you drive me all the way to The Cut.”

“It’s nothing for me.” He says, gently tugging on your wrist to guide you toward his car. He looks at you from the side, his gaze taking in your worried expression, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You’re cute when you’re being stubborn, angel. But it��s unnecessary.”

You sigh. His truck did beat walking. “Fine. Lemme get my stuff.”

Rafe lets go of your wrist, watching you as you dig through your front seat, grabbing everything important. He crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the hood forward as his eyes run over your body, stopping on your ass, head tilting as he admires the way your jeans hug your body. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering what you would look like bent over his lap with two red handprints on your ass, slightly bruised from where his rings would catch the skin.

Did he feel bad about constantly fucking with your car? A little bit.

But was he happy that he now had you all to himself? Of course he was.

You were Rafe’s obsession, ever since he first met you a year and a half ago. He, at first, tried so hard to forget you, the little Pogue girl that had the sheer audacity to be friends with his least favourite person in the world, Pope, but as the days passed, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He started out by just thinking about you every so often, occasionally glancing in the direction of The Boneyard when he drove past, hoping he would see you in a bikini.

Then, he started thinking about you every day, which turned into every night. He would lay on his bed, back against his headboard, and stroke his cock while scrolling through your Instagram feed. Just one look at you would send him close to cumming, and he can’t count how many times he’s cummed in his pants just from seeing you around Kildare. You had a few bikini pics taken from all angles, but his favourite ones were the ones of you smiling at the camera. Rafe has a favourite photo to jerk off to, something that sends him cumming all over his fingers after a few strokes. It’s a photo of you, taken from a high up angle, looking into the camera with your big beautiful eyes, holding a lollipop in your mouth.

He loves it so much, it’s even his phone’s wallpaper.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to consume you, turn you inside out and fill you with just him. You didn’t need anyone else. You had him, even if you didn’t know it.

You shove your registration and some other important documents from your glove compartment into your bag, shutting and locking the door. You unzip your jacket, sliding the bag between your body and the fabric to try to keep it protected from the rain. You join Rafe back at his truck, climbing into the passenger seat. His car is neat, surprisingly, with only a tube of Aquaphor in one of his cupholders. Hanging from his rearview mirror, along with a car air freshener, is a Polaroid photo of him with his youngest sister Wheezie. There was also photo of you, which was now scurried away in his centre console, buried under a packet of Wet Wipes. He didn’t think you would appreciate that gesture, even though he did, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Rafe takes the bags from you, carefully placing it on the floor of the backseat, his eyes running over you as you settle into the seat. His hands were shaking slightly as the starts the car and puts it in drive. He couldn’t believe this actually worked. He had been following you all day, tracking your phone as he kept his distance in his car.

You didn’t even notice when he cloned your phone. Rafe had been tracking your every move for months, reading every single text and listening in on every single conversation. He knew it would freak you out if you found out, but he was just trying to protect you! You didn’t realise it, but you needed him. He was protecting you from the scumbags who were trying to date you. You were so sweet, too sweet, and he didn’t want one of those dirty Pogue bastards to take advantage of you. He had planned on making his move with you anyway, but your car breaking down was a gift from the gods. They were placing you right into his calloused hands.

The rain splatters against the windshield with a low tap tap tap, a steady rhythm that keeps the silence from feeling completely unnerving. The air is warm, the heat turned up high, and Rafe looks at you as he buckles his seat belt. “You better thank me.” His smirk is back, a wicked curl at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you, Rafe.”

He chuckles, glancing away from you briefly as he puts one hand on the wheel. “That wasn’t very convincing, angel…” His gaze returns to you, moving over the slope of your nose, your neck, down to where the rain has made your shirt cling to your chest. His mouth is dry, making it hard to swallow, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

You look up at him, your head tilted towards him, your eyes big. “Thank you, Rafe.”

His smirk falters, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your big doe eyes staring up at him. He bites the inside of his lip, staring down at you. He can’t believe that you were really right here, that he had you trapped right in his own little cage. There was something about seeing you look so innocent that made him want to ruin you. His breathing starts to come a bit harder, the urge to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe with your wrists tied behind your back making his entire body ache. He clears his throat before putting the car into drive, pulling off of the side of the road, heading back towards Kildare.

You notice his heavy breathing and his tight grip on the steering wheel. Your eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearing his throat. His grip loosens on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers to alleviate the ache. He forces himself to relax his grip, taking a deep breath. After a moment passes, and the silence is heavy on his shoulders, he glances over at you again. “You ever done drugs, angel?”

You rub your lips together. You could be honest with him, right? “Yeah, once.”

His gaze runs over your face as you speak. God, you’re so fucking innocent, it was intoxicating. “Once?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly. “That’s adorable. What drug was it? Pot? I can’t see you doing anything hard core, angel.”

“Yeah, it was weed,” You say. “JJ got his hands on some, and he let me have a few hits.”

He glances over at you again, his fingers clenching as he tries to not show his jealousy. He hated all of your little Pogue friends, JJ included. He didn’t like the idea of you getting high with JJ -- becoming vulnerable. What if JJ took advantage of you? Rafe clears his throat, looking back at the road. “That’s cute, angel. Was that your first and only time?”

“Yeah,” You say, shifting in the seat. “I just… I don’t know if it’s my thing, you know? I had a pretty bad high. I thought I was dying.”

His lips twitched, trying to keep his temper under control. He had just gotten you into his car, he couldn’t scare you away. Of course that fucker JJ had a hand in your bad experience, he probably gave you too much and didn’t take good care of you. He would never do that to you. He would give you the perfect intro into the wonderful world of drugs. “That’s because he gave you too much, angel. A beginner should never go too far their first time. You need to start small, so you don’t have a bad experience. It’s all about moderation.”

You look over at him. “Well, it’s technically my fault. I took too many hits.”

Rafe laughs softly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He glances over at you, his gaze roaming over you slowly, from head to toe, and back to your face. He had already decided that he was going to give you something, just to see you experience it. “What did it feel like? Being high.”

“I liked it,” You say. “I was laughing a lot, until I started feeling like I was dying. I don’t know, the floaty feeling… it was nice, you know?”

He hums, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He could only imagine what you would be like, all loose and relaxed, a giggly high. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you when you were high, how compliant you would be, unable to stop him. His mind starts to wander, thinking about the look in your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, all woozy and out of it. “Would you ever smoke weed again?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say. “Just wouldn’t do it with JJ in the middle of The Boneyard again.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. He glances over at you again, the smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze is dark, his pupils dilated. He was itching for the right opportunity to show you something better, something that could get you addicted, addicted to him. “Would you ever try anything harder?” Rafe pulls to a stop at the red light. Turning left would bring you to the north side of Kildare, where Figure 8 is, while turning right would bring you to the south side, towards The Cut.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Rafe. I would want to do it in a safe space, you know? Not at like a party or anything.”

He hums, turning right when the light turns green. “A safe space, huh?” He glances over at you, biting his lip. His eyes trace your face, how sweet and innocent you looked, and his mind was suddenly made up. He was going to introduce you to the most euphoric feeling of your life, and he was going to take care of you as you felt it. “What about if we did it? Just you and me.”

You shift in the seat again. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, like something is telling you to run. “Do you just… have cocaine lying around?”

The light turns green. The car doesn’t move.

His lips twitch again, and his fingers drum at the wheel. “Yeah, angel, I actually do.” He glances over at you, noticing the way you were shifting. He could see the hesitance in your wide eyes, the look of fear. “You don't have to look so scared, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'm gonna make sure you feel so good. Just trust me.”

You bite your lip, looking out the window. You had heard so much about Rafe from Pope, JJ, and John B about how psychotic, impulsive, and destructive he is, but he was being so gentle with you. You look back at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He turns his head, making eye contact. He knew you were scared, and it made his cock throb in his jeans. He was telling you the truth, of course, he would take care of you, and he would make sure that you liked it. He wanted you to come back to him for more and more. “You know, you really don't have to be afraid of me, angel. I'm only bad to people who do things to deserve it. I promise I'll treat you good. I will make you feel good, so long as you trust me, and do what I say. Can you do that?”

Your stomach churns. You shouldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t be in Rafe’s truck, but something about him made you want to stay. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His lips curl into a smirk, that same wicked curl as earlier. He was slowly breaking you down, making you do what he wanted, without you even realising it. He wasn't forcing you to do anything, he was just asking. How could you say no to him, when he asked you nicely? “Good girl.”

Rafe takes the left turn.

You let out a shaky breath. You were really doing this.

You look out the window as he drives through Figure 8, taking in the sights of the looming mansions. You glance back over at him as he drives straight past Tanneyhill. “Are you not there anymore?”

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “Haven't been there in months, not since my dad died.” He glances over at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. “I'm living somewhere else now. A true bachelor.” He slows down as he turns into the driveway of a large white home that looked like one of many others that surrounded it, although, not quite as big. He pulls to a stop, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pockets. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

You grab your bag from the floorboards of the backseat before hopping out, quickly rushing through the downpour to the front door. Rafe easily catches up to you, his stride much longer than yours. He leads the way though, pulling his keys back out of his pocket as he shoves the front door open. He holds it open for you, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for you to head inside. “Welcome to my humble home, angel. Make yourself at home.”

You stand in the entryway, not wanting to drip water all over his real hardwood floors. “Do you have clothes I can borrow? I don’t wanna get your furniture wet.”

Rafe smirks, his gaze running over your soaking wet body, his cock throbbing at the thought of how hard your nipples must be. “I think I have something you can wear, but yeah, you really should get out of those wet clothes.” He pulls the front door shut, locking it behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room.” He grabs your hand, leading you through the empty house.

You follow him through the house, taking in the minimal, neutral decor. It honestly looked like no one lived there, the walls of the house were bare, the couches were all black leather, including the recliner in the corner. There was a large white rug in the middle of a living room, covering the floor. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, although it wasn't as barren, with stainless steel appliances and cabinets. The only personal things in the house were a large flat screen TV in the living room, a framed picture of a young Rafe with baby Sarah on the kitchen counter, and a hallway of closed doors that led to the extra rooms.

His room is just as bare, although it’s a lot messier, boxers and t-shirts litter the floor and are strewn over an armchair set up in front of his TV and PlayStation. His bedside table is covered with empty plastic water bottles, a crumpled bag of chips, and another framed photo, although this one is of him and Wheezie.

“Cute room.” You say.

“Thanks.” He says, his gaze running over you again, his eyes lingering on your chest, imagining what your nipples look like before returning to your face. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tosses them towards you and you catch them. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and throw your clothes into the dryer. Just set it to quick dry, okay? Otherwise, it’ll take fucking forever.”

You smile softly, holding the clothes in your arms. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“No problem.” He says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and leaning back. He watches you as you slip down the hall, headed towards the bathroom. Rafe waits a few moments, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He had been waiting to get you alone for so long, to make you his, and now, he was so close.

But he had promised to go slow, and even though it was killing him. He didn't want you to run away.

You peel your clothes off, hanging them over the sink as you change. You dry your hair with a towel before pulling Rafe’s T-shirt over your head. It smells like him; a warm, slightly citrusy smell that makes your head spin. You step into the sweatpants and tie them around your hips. They were a big baggy, but you didn’t mind. You put your clothes into the dryer and set it to quick dry before heading back into Rafe’s bedroom. You spin in a circle, looking at him over your shoulder. “How do I look?”

Rafe had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, trying to resist the urge to go after you. He had changed himself, putting on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was almost half hard and as he watches you spin around, the look in your big innocent eyes, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from jumping on you. He swallows, a dry click echoing in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes fixed on you. “You look good.” he murmurs, his gaze travelling over your body and how his T-shirt was loose enough for him to slip a hand under it without any effort. “Are you comfy?”

You nod, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt as you sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Rafe’s lips tilt into a smile as he watches you fiddle with your hem. You looked so sweet, his pretty little angel, all alone with him, no one to protect you. “You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in good hands with me, I promise.” He scoots a little closer, looking down at you with his big blue eyes, his lips mere inches from yours. “Do you still want to do it?” God, please say yes.

“Yeah, of course I do,” You say quickly. “Just haven’t done it before, so I’m nervous, you know?”

God, he was going to hell for this. “I know.” He whispers, his gaze roaming over your face, drinking in every beautiful detail. His fingers reach out, gently brushing your jaw. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. I promise.” He glances away for a moment, toward his bedside, toward the bedside table where he had a small bag of coke.

Fuck. This is actually happening.

Your back straightens as you crawl closer to him on the bed, watching as he gets out the bag of coke, along with a small circular mirror.

Rafe looks back at you, his gaze darkening as he sees you come closer, closing the space between you and him. His hand trembles as he opens the bag, using the edge of his credit card to separate the white powder laid out on the mirror. He couldn’t wait to get you addicted to him. He had wanted this for so long, had wanted you for so long, and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You gotta promise not to be scared, angel.” He whispers, glancing over at you as he grabs the rolled up bill.

You let out a shaky breath. “Is there, um…do I have to snort it? Or is there, like, another way? I just don’t know if I can snort it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks softly, his gaze travelling over you as you move even closer to him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at your question. He was going to love this. He straightens out the lines with his credit card. “I can rub it on your gums if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

He grins, glancing over at you as he pushes himself back, getting comfortable against the headboard. “Come here, angel.” He grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer so that you’re sitting before him, between his legs. He glances at your pretty face, his gaze dark and heavy.

You’re scared. He loves it.

Rafe grabs your chin, fingers squishing into your cheeks. “Open your mouth, angel…” You oblige and he grins. “Good girl, good.” Rafe licks his pointer finger before reaching over and swiping through one of the lines. “Alright angel, last chance, do you wanna do this?”

You nod.

“Good girl.” Rafe hums, grabbing your chin as his wet finger moves from the line of coke, rubbing it along your gums. His gaze flits between yours and his hand before pulling away. You looked so fucking good, letting him take advantage of you like this. “Leave it for a moment, okay? You don't have to suck or lick, just leave it in your mouth.” Your gums tingle, the taste slightly bitter.

Rafe watches you close, leaning back once he takes his hand away. He watches you intently, watching the way your expression changes as the drug takes flight.

He was in love.

The cocaine hits you fast, and you start getting squirmy, your pupils wide and blown out. He watches your face as you react to the drug, watching how your eyes flit around and how your breath comes in deep, slightly shaky. He leans forward, grabbing your arms. “Come here, angel, sit in my lap.” You can’t do anything, letting him move you around before settling you into his lap.

His arms slide around your waist, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him, like a precious doll. “Does it make you feel good, angel?” He asks, leaning forward, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smelled sweet, and you were a perfect fit in his arms, so much so that he almost didn’t want to let you go. Almost.

You nod. You felt so good. Everything was heightened so deliciously, and you melted into Rafe’s arms, letting the scent of his cologne travel through you.

“I’m so glad, angel, I wanted to make you happy.” He whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your jaw, his hands holding onto your hips, keeping you flush against him. He loves the way you move, how your body feels against his, how you were his. He wanted to make you want this again, and again, until you couldn’t think about anything but him, until you couldn’t go without it. Rafe kisses up your neck, hands sliding under the front of his shirt. Your eyes are fluttering and your whole body shakes as your ears start to ring. You squirm, and he grins, moving his head up. He gently bites your earlobe before whispering into your ear.

“You did well saying yes to me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

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dandelions-143 · 18 days ago

Text

Obsession 2

Obsession Part 1

Minho Masterlist

Member Masterlist

Pairing: Non- Idol, Rich Minho x Curvy/mid-size Dancer

Word Count: 8386

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Violence and physical abuse, Emotional manipulation, Dubious consent, Power imbalance in relationships

Summary: The usually cold, calm, and collected Minho is losing his grip. He’s losing his control all due to his intense feelings for his little dancer…

Minho glanced over at his friend Hyunjin, who sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek black Lexus LX. The leather interior creaked as Minho shifted, his voice low and cautious. "Are you absolutely certain about this, Hyunjin? This isn't like our usual... activities. Once we cross this line, there's no turning back."

Minho's eyes flickered to Hyunjin's face, noting the taut line of his jaw and the barely contained fury in his eyes. A muscle twitched near Hyunjin's temple, a telltale sign of his suppressed rage. Minho understood his friend's anger all too well. The man they had bound and gagged in the trunk of the SUV had committed an unforgivable act - he had dared to lay his hands on the woman Hyunjin cherished above all else.

The weight of what they were about to do hung heavy in the air between them. Minho's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his grip. He could feel the thrumming of the engine, a stark contrast to the eerie silence inside the vehicle. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of the deserted road behind them, stretching out into the darkness.

"He deserves everything that's coming to him," Hyunjin muttered, more to himself than to Minho. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mix of righteousness and something darker, something that sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of the car.

"I've made up my mind," Hyunjin's voice was cold, devoid of its usual warmth. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, now held a dangerous glint. "No one hurts her anymore... not me... not anyone." He turned to face Minho, his gaze unflinching. "I'm doing this."

With those words, Hyunjin reached for the door handle. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence. As he stepped out, the crisp night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Minho hesitated for a split second before turning off the engine, plunging them into darkness save for the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

Minho exited the car, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet forest clearing. He made his way to the trunk, where their captive, Joo Won, lay bound and gagged. Even through the metal of the car, Minho could hear the muffled screams and the dull thuds of Ji Won's attempts to free himself.

As Minho's hand hovered over the trunk release, he caught Hyunjin's eye. In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. There was no going back now. With a deep breath, Minho pressed the button, the trunk slowly opening to reveal their terrified prisoner. Joo Won instantly started screaming and cursing at them. Some how the idiot managed to get the tape halfway off his mouth.

"You fucking pricks!" Joo Won bellowed, his voice echoing in the clearing. His eyes, wild with fear and rage, darted between Minho and Hyunjin. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his tirade, "You'll pay for this! You won't get away with this! I'll have your heads for-"

The rest of his threat was cut short as Minho's fist connected with his temple. The sound of the impact was sickeningly loud in the quiet forest. Joo Won's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up as consciousness fled. His body went limp, sagging against the edge of the trunk.

Minho flexed his hand, his knuckles already reddening from the force of the blow. His voice was barely above a whisper, cold and detached. "You talk too fucking much."

Without a word, Hyunjin moved to help. Together, they grasped Joo Won's unconscious form, one taking the shoulders, the other the feet. The man's dead weight was substantial, and they grunted with effort as they maneuvered him out of the trunk. Joo Won's head lolled lifelessly as they carried him, a thin trickle of blood now visible at his temple where Minho's fist had connected.

They carried Joo Won's unconscious body across the clearing, their footsteps muffled by the carpet of pine needles. The abandoned garage loomed before them, a dark silhouette against the night sky. Its weathered wooden doors creaked ominously as Hyunjin pushed them open with his shoulder.

The interior of the garage was musty and thick with the scent of old motor oil and rusted metal. Minho fumbled for a moment before finding the light switch. A single bare bulb flickered to life, casting long shadows across the cluttered space.

"Over there," Minho grunted, nodding towards a sturdy wooden chair in the corner. They maneuvered Joo Won's limp form into the seat, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Hyunjin quickly set about securing him with rope, his movements efficient and practiced.

As Hyunjin worked, Minho took a moment to survey their surroundings. The garage, once his father's pride and joy, now stood as a silent witness to their dark intentions. Tools hung on the walls, their edges dulled by time and neglect. A workbench stood against one wall, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust.

With Joo Won securely bound, Minho and Hyunjin stepped back, exchanging a loaded glance. The reality of what they were about to do settled over them like a heavy shroud. In the harsh light of the single bulb, their faces looked gaunt and haunted, shadows deepening the hollows of their eyes.

"Wake the fuck up!" Hyunjin snarled, his foot connecting hard with Joo Won's leg. The impact reverberated through the chair, causing it to teeter precariously. The wooden legs scraped against the concrete floor, the sound echoing in the dimly lit garage. For a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if both Joo Won and the chair would topple over, but they settled back with a dull thud.

Joo Won's head snapped up violently, his neck muscles straining from the sudden movement. His eyes, bloodshot and wide with panic, darted around the room. Confusion clouded his features for a split second before raw, unbridled fear took over. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths, each one punctuated by a small, terrified whimper.

As consciousness fully returned, Joo Won's gaze locked onto the two figures looming over him. Minho stood slightly back, his face an impassive mask, while Hyunjin's presence was more immediate, more threatening. Joo Won's eyes flicked between them, searching desperately for any sign of mercy or hesitation. Finding none, he felt the last vestiges of his earlier bravado crumble away.

"W-what... what do you want from me?" Joo Won stammered, his voice cracking. Saliva pooled in his mouth, making his words come out thick and slurred. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple, leaving a glistening trail on his pale, clammy skin. His fingers, bound tightly behind his back, twitched and trembled, searching fruitlessly for any weakness in his restraints.

Hyunjin leaned in close, his breath hot on Joo Won's face. The scent of fear emanating from Joo Won was palpable, mixing with the musty air of the garage. Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and friendly, now burned with a cold fury that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft, barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly in the tense silence.

"What do we want?" he echoed, his words dripping with venom. He paused, letting the question hang in the air, watching as Joo Won's eyes widened in terror and pool with tears. "We want you to suffer, just like you made her suffer. Every bruise, every tear, every moment of fear - you're going to feel it all."

Minho stepped back, the soles of his shoes scraping against the concrete floor as he leaned against the far wall. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes never left the scene unfolding before him. He crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking softly, as he watched Hyunjin reach into his pocket.

The sound of metal sliding against fabric filled the air as Hyunjin pulled out a set of brass knuckles. The weapon gleamed dully in the dim light, its surface pitted and scarred from previous use. With practiced ease, Hyunjin slipped them onto his fingers, flexing his hand to ensure a snug fit.

The harsh angles of the weapon seemed to accentuate the cold determination in his eyes. As he raised his fist, the brass knuckles caught the light again, this time reflecting it directly into Joo Won's terrified eyes. The man whimpered, his bound body trembling in anticipation of the pain to come.

"No, please," Joo Won whimpered, his voice cracking with fear. Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled against his bonds, the rough rope digging into his wrists. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" His desperate plea was abruptly silenced as Hyunjin's fist, now a lethal combination of flesh and metal, connected with his jaw. The sickening crunch of bone meeting brass reverberated through the garage, a sound that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Joo Won's muffled cry of agony followed, a guttural, animalistic sound that spoke of pure, unadulterated pain.

Minho stood motionless, his face an impenetrable mask of indifference. His cold, calculating eyes swept over the scene before him, taking in every detail with clinical detachment. Almost involuntarily, his gaze flickered down to his watch, the subtle movement betraying a hint of impatience. In his mind's eye, he could see his dancer, her lithe form moving gracefully as she began her shift. The urge to be there, watching her, observing every nuance of her performance, gnawed at him relentlessly. He felt a sudden, powerful impulse to leave, to abandon this grim scene and lose himself in the mesmerizing rhythm of her dance. But a sense of loyalty, as cold and unyielding as his exterior, kept him rooted to the spot. He knew he couldn't leave Hyunjin here alone, not with what they had started.

The abrupt cessation of violence snapped Minho's attention back to the present. The silence that descended upon the garage was deafening, a stark and jarring contrast to the cacophony of brutality that had filled the air moments before. The sudden quiet seemed to have a weight of its own, pressing down on them with an almost tangible force. Minho's muscles tensed as he pushed himself off the wall, his movements deliberate and controlled. He took a measured step towards where Hyunjin stood, looming over Joo Won's slumped, battered form. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, the aftermath of violence hanging heavy in the musty garage air.

Even though Joo Won was knocked out cold, Hyunjin continued his assault with a terrifying intensity. His fists, now slick with blood, rose and fell in a brutal rhythm. Each impact produced a sickening sound - a mix of flesh yielding and bone creaking under the relentless force.

"Hyunjin, I think you've taught him a lesson," Minho said firmly, his voice cutting through the violent cacophony. The words seemed to hang in the air, unacknowledged.

Hyunjin appeared lost in a trance-like state, his eyes glazed over with a mixture of rage and something darker. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with specks of Joo Won's blood. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuating each blow. "Jesus Christ..." Minho muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance creeping into his usually composed demeanor.

With a swift movement, Minho lunged forward. His hands clamped down on Hyunjin's shoulders, muscles straining as he forcibly pulled his friend back. "That's enough," he growled, his grip on Hyunjin's arm tightening to the point of bruising. Minho stepped closer to Joo Won and roughly took hold of his face to get a better look at him. Joo Wons blood getting on Minhos hand as he peered down at the lifeless man. "He's out cold. We don't want to kill him. Just send a message."

Hyunjin's chest heaved with ragged breaths, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system. His knuckles, raw and bloody beneath the brass, trembled slightly. Slowly, as if emerging from a fog, his gaze focused on Joo Won's battered face. The man was barely recognizable, his features a swollen, bloody mess. A mix of emotions flickered across Hyunjin's face - satisfaction, horror, and a dawning realization of the extent of his actions. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the occasional groan from their unconscious victim.

A muscle ticked in Hyunjin's jaw as he backed away, his chest heaving with exertion. He threw the brass knuckles down with a clatter, the sound echoing in the musty garage. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his earlier shouting. With trembling fingers, he ran his blood-stained hand through his sweat-damp hair, leaving behind streaks of crimson.

"Come on, let's get this piece of shit back so I can get cleaned up. I've got somewhere to be," Minho said to Hyunjin, his tone clipped and businesslike. His eyes darted to his watch, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock and the life that awaited them beyond this grim scene.

Hyunjin nodded, his breathing still labored, each exhale carrying the weight of what they'd just done. He glanced at Joo Won's unconscious form, slumped in the chair like a broken marionette. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Hyunjin's face - a momentary crack in his hardened exterior - before his expression set once more into grim determination. Together, they approached the chair, the floorboards creaking under their feet. Their hands moved with practiced efficiency as they began to untie Joo Won, the rope rough against their fingers. Despite the gravity of their actions, their movements were quick and precise, a testament to a familiarity that spoke volumes about their shared past.

As they hauled Joo Won's unconscious form back to the car, the weight of their actions pressed down on them like a suffocating blanket. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees looming ominously, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The rustle of leaves in the night breeze sounded almost like whispers of judgment, as if nature itself was recoiling from the violence that had just transpired.

Minho's muscles strained under Joo Won's dead weight, and he could feel Hyunjin's labored breathing beside him. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast eerie shadows on the forest floor, making their trek back to the car feel like a surreal journey through a nightmarish landscape.

—

Upon reaching Joo Won's neighborhood, they unceremoniously dumped his battered body on his front lawn. The thud of flesh hitting grass seemed to echo in the quiet suburban night. After dropping Hyunjin off at his apartment, the silence in Minho's car became oppressive, filled with unspoken thoughts and the lingering scent of violence.

Minho finally entered his own apartment, the sudden stillness a jarring contrast to the chaotic energy of the night. The soft click of the door closing behind him sounded final, like the period at the end of a dark chapter. He made his way to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty space. His movements were mechanical, almost robotic, as if his body was operating on autopilot while his mind grappled with the events of the night.

Stepping into the shower, Minho turned the water on full blast. The scalding spray hit his skin like a thousand tiny needles, each droplet a searing reminder of the night's events. He welcomed the pain, his muscles tensing and then slowly relaxing under the relentless assault of hot water. Steam began to rise, filling the small bathroom with a thick, oppressive heat that matched the turmoil in his mind.

As the water cascaded over his body, Minho watched with a detached fascination as rivulets of pink-tinged water swirled down the drain. The sight of Joo Won's blood mixing with the clear water was mesmerizing, a visual representation of how the violence of the night was being washed away. Yet, even as the physical evidence disappeared, Minho knew that the memory – the weight of his actions – would linger far longer than any visible stain.

The steam continued to build, transforming the bathroom into a foggy cocoon. The mirror gradually clouded over, obscuring Minho's reflection and creating a barrier between him and the outside world. It was as if the fog in the bathroom mirrored the haze that had settled over his conscience, blurring the lines between right and wrong, justice and vengeance.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Minho stood under the relentless spray. The water began to cool, but he barely noticed, lost in a swirl of thoughts and rationalizations. Finally, when the water ran ice cold, shocking him back to reality, Minho stepped out of the shower. His skin was red and raw from the prolonged exposure to the hot water, a physical manifestation of the emotional rawness he felt inside.

With mechanical precision, Minho dried himself, his movements slow and deliberate. Each pat of the towel revealed more of his battle-worn body. A long, jagged scar ran from his left shoulder down to his ribcage, a reminder of a knife fight from years ago. Smaller, circular scars dotted his torso, testaments to bullet wounds barely survived. As he dragged the towel across his arms, the raised edges of burn scars became visible, a patchwork of pain etched into his skin.

As the fog in the bathroom began to dissipate, tendrils of steam curling away to reveal the mirror, Minho found himself face to face with his reflection. The clarity of the image stood in stark contrast to the moral ambiguity he felt. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now held a haunted look. He stood there, naked and vulnerable, his scarred body a roadmap of violence and survival. The mirror reflected not just his physical form, but the weight of his actions and their consequences. A particularly nasty scar across his abdomen seemed to throb, as if reminding him of the brutality he was capable of. He truly hated himself at times.

Minho began to dress, each item of clothing concealing another layer of his scarred history. He slipped on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it up with steady fingers, hiding the web of scars across his chest. Next came the tailored black trousers, covering the burn marks on his legs. As he shrugged on the sleek black jacket, it masked the uneven texture of his scarred shoulders. Finally, as he knotted his black tie, Minho felt himself slipping back into his usual persona - cool, collected, untouchable. The suit became his armor, hiding the physical reminders of his violent past beneath its impeccable surface.

Finally, he shrugged on his signature black suit jacket. As he smoothed down the lapels, Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. The night's events were now just a memory, carefully locked away behind the impeccable facade of his black suit. He was ready to face the world again, ready to watch his dancer perform, as if nothing had ever happened. Despite this his still felt slightly on edge.. like any little thing could set him off.

Twenty minutes later, Minho was stepping into the gentlemen's club, his senses immediately assaulted by the ambiance. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Soft, sultry music wafted through the air, punctuated by the melodic tinkling of ice in crystal glasses and the low hum of hushed conversations. The scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the faint aroma of cigars, creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

Minho's polished shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards the darkened hallway. This was his usual route, leading to the private room reserved exclusively for him and his dancer. The familiarity of the path did little to quell the anticipation building within him. However, his purposeful stride was abruptly halted by a sound that sent a chill down his spine - a deep, rumbling laugh he knew all too well, followed by his father's commanding voice filling the room.

Slowly, Minho turned, his body tense with apprehension. He expected to see his father engaged in some typical activity - perhaps enjoying the company of a random dancer, indulging in a lavish meal, or sharing drinks with his business associates. After all, this was his father's club, and his presence here was not uncommon. But as Minho's eyes adjusted to the dim light and focused on the scene before him, a white-hot rage began to build within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

There, in the center of the room, sat his father, but it wasn't just any dancer perched on his lap. It was you - Minho's dancer, the one he had claimed as his own. His father's large, weathered hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made Minho's blood boil. Those filthy hands caressed your hips, fingers splayed possessively across your skin. They lingered on your thighs, inching higher with each passing moment. Minho's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he watched, paralyzed by shock and fury.

But it was the next moment that shattered Minho's last shred of control. His father, emboldened by the intimate setting and perhaps by the alcohol coursing through his veins, reached up and gripped one of your breasts. The lewd gesture, so blatant and disrespectful, was the final straw. Something deep within Minho snapped, a primal, possessive instinct taking over. His vision blurred, tinged with red as rage consumed him. In that moment, all thoughts of propriety, of family ties, of potential consequences vanished. All Minho knew was that he had to act, to reclaim what was his, to punish those who dared to touch what belonged to him alone. His father had taken so much from him through out his life but he was not going to take you.

You flinched as his calloused hand made contact with your skin, a wave of revulsion washing over you. Men weren't supposed to touch you like this, but this wasn't just any man - it was your boss, the owner of the club. Your stomach churned as you realized your powerlessness in this situation. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to regain composure, plastering a saccharine smile on your face that didn't reach your eyes. You leaned into him, every fiber of your being screaming in protest as you did so. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke assaulted your senses, making you want to gag. Your skin crawled as his meaty hands roamed over your body, leaving invisible trails of disgust in their wake.

The older man's lips, dry and rough, grazed your shoulder. You couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through you, your body instinctively trying to recoil from his touch. Just as you were about to force yourself to endure more, a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, yanking you away from your boss's embrace. The abrupt movement left you disoriented for a moment. "Minho?" The name escaped your lips in a whisper, more to yourself than anyone else, as your eyes focused on the familiar face contorted with rage.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Minho's hand shot out, gripping his father's expensive silk shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulled the older man to his feet. The crack of Minho's fist connecting with his father's face echoed through the room, the force of the blow whipping the older man's head back. You watched in stunned silence as Minho landed two more vicious punches, each impact punctuated by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his father's split lip, staining the pristine white of his shirt.

The commotion finally stirred the bodyguards into action. They rushed forward, their large frames filling your vision as they struggled to pull Minho away from his father. Minho fought against their grip, his muscles straining as he tried to break free. With a grunt of effort, he managed to shrug them off, the fire in his eyes undiminished. He advanced on his father again, who was now slumped against the bar, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

Minho leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that sent chills down your spine. "You may own this club," he hissed, each word dripping with venom, "but I own her." His arm shot out, finger pointing directly at you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, the words not quite registering in your shock-addled mind. "Own me?" The question tumbled from your lips, barely audible over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Before you could fully grasp the implications of Minho's declaration, his hand was on your arm again. His grip was firm, bordering on painful as he began to drag you away from the scene as his father barked out orders to the body guards. Minho didn’t seem to care about the possible consequences of his actions towards his father. All he had on his mind was you.

You stumbled, struggling to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you down the dark hallway towards a secluded room. The last thing you saw before being yanked around a corner was Minho's father, hunched over and spitting globules of blood onto the polished floor, the red stark against the gleaming surface. The image burned into your retinas as Minho pulled you deeper into the bowels of the club, leaving behind a wake of violence and unanswered questions.

Minho swung open the door pulling you inside with such force you stumbled and fell hard onto the plush carpet in the room. “What the fuck! You can’t just drag me around! I’m not your rag doll!” You yelled as you got back on your feet. Minho stalked towards you his eyes furious, it made you a bit nervous but you still stood your ground with him.

"You're mine," Minho breathed out, his voice a low, possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands gripped your arms, pulling you flush against his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, his scent a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something uniquely Minho. You could feel the hard planes of his chest pressed against you, his heart hammering in sync with yours.

For a moment, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body betraying your mind's protests. But you steeled yourself, pushing against his chest with all your might. "I am not yours!" you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desire. "Let go of me!" Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt tensing at your touch.

Minho's grip remained firm but not painful, his eyes darkening with a primal hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin as his lips grazed your jaw. "No one gets to touch you but me," he murmured, his words vibrating against your skin. "You're my dancer." His tongue darted out, tracing a hot, wet path along your jawline, eliciting an involuntary shiver from you.

You slowly turned your head, your angry eyes meeting his heated stare. The intensity in his gaze was almost palpable, a swirling vortex of desire, possessiveness, and something darker that you couldn't quite name. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw your own conflicted emotions reflected in his eyes.

Without warning, Minho's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was as if he was trying to devour you whole, his passion all-consuming. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, exploring, claiming. One of his hands tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he angled your head to deepen the kiss further.

His other hand roamed your body with a possessive urgency, fingers digging into your flesh as they traced the curves of your waist, hips, and thighs. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, your skin tingling with an electric current of desire. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, swallowed by Minho's hungry mouth.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, your anger melting away like snow in the summer sun. In its place, a burning desire took root, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your hands, which had been pushing him away just moments ago, now clutched desperately at his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer.

You found yourself responding with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his in a passionate tango. Your fingers, trembling with anticipation, fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath. As each button came undone, you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing matching your own frantic pace. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire and the intoxicating musk of his cologne.

Your bodies pressed closer, every inch of you yearning for contact. The soft fabric of your dress did little to mask the heat radiating from your skin, and you could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. A low moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his hungry mouth as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every crevice as if mapping out uncharted territory.

It was as if all the tension that had been building over countless nights of furtive glances and suppressed longing had finally reached its breaking point. The dam of restraint had burst, unleashing a torrent of raw, unbridled passion. You were both drowning in the flood of need that threatened to consume you entirely, and neither of you wanted to come up for air.

Minho's lips left yours, leaving you gasping for breath. But he didn't relent in his assault on your senses. His mouth trailed a blazing path along your jaw, each kiss igniting sparks of pleasure that coursed through your body. When he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazed the skin, eliciting a shudder that ran from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

His lips continued their journey down the column of your neck, alternating between soft, teasing kisses and more insistent nips that were sure to leave marks. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin as he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea how much I've craved you." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the raw honesty in his voice making your heart race even faster. "Every night, watching you dance, imagining my hands on your body ... it's been torture."

Your head fell back, exposing the delicate column of your neck as you gasped, "Minho... I... we shouldn't..." The words came out breathy and uncertain, your voice quivering with a mix of desire and hesitation. But even as you spoke, your body betrayed your true feelings. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest firmly against his, your skin tingling with every point of contact. Your fingers, which had been pushing against his chest moments ago, now curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Minho's eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he growled, "I do what I want, and I want you." The low timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your core. With a swift, fluid motion, he pressed forward, guiding you backward until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. The cool surface against your heated skin made you gasp, the contrast of temperatures heightening every sensation.

Minho's hands moved with a fervent urgency, his fingers finding the delicate straps of your sheer black thong. With a swift tug, he tore away the flimsy material, as well as your matching lacy bralette, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. The cool air of the room caressed your newly bared skin, causing goosebumps to rise across your flesh. Your nipples hardened instantly, partly from the chill and partly from the intensity of Minho's stare.

Your body responded to his touch as if it had a will of its own. A rush of heat flooded your core, your arousal evident in the way your thighs trembled and your breath came in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the wetness gathering between your legs, your body preparing itself for what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, Minho stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he shed his jacket. The expensive fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle. His tie followed suit, his fingers working deftly at the knot before letting it slip from around his neck. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted form, drinking in the sight of him. The crisp white shirt clung to his broad shoulders and toned chest, hinting at the muscular physique beneath.

He returned to you with an intensity that made your knees weak. His hands explored every inch of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was both gentle and possessive, each caress a claim of ownership. His fingers trailed up your sides, ghosting over the curve of your breasts before sliding around to your back. You shivered as he traced the line of your spine, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

Minho's hands finally came to rest on your ass, cupping the firm flesh with a grip that was just shy of painful. He pulled you flush against him, letting you feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against your stomach. A low moan escaped your lips at the contact, your body instinctively grinding against him, seeking more friction.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with want. His hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and valley of your body as if committing it to memory. His fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone, then slowly trailed down to the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The calloused pads of his fingertips circled your areolas teasingly, making you arch into his touch, desperate for more.

Minho's plump lips found your hardened nipples, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive peaks before he took one into his mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness made you gasp, your body jerking with pleasure. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bud, then soothed it with gentle laps. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure washed over you. The slight pain from your tugging seemed to spur him on, his ministrations becoming more fervent.

"Minho..." you moaned softly, his name passing over your lips like a prayer as he worshipped your body. He hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core. His free hand kneaded your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching the neglected nipple in time with the movements of his mouth.

His tongue swirled around one sensitive peak, then the other, alternating between them with a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. The occasional graze of his teeth sent jolts of electricity through your body, each sensation more intense than the last. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, silently begging for more. Minho's hands roamed your sides, his touch both gentle and possessive. His fingers danced along your ribs, then gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer. Every caress ignited sparks of desire, your skin hypersensitive to his every touch. The heat between you built steadily, a smoldering fire threatening to consume you both.

As he continued his ministrations, you felt your legs weaken, your body trembling with an overwhelming need. Minho sensed your unsteadiness, his strong arms wrapping around you, supporting your weight as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts. The heat between you intensified, the air thick with passion and unspoken desires. Your skin tingled everywhere his hands touched, each caress sending sparks of electricity through your body.

Your fingers, shaking with anticipation, began to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, you revealed the smooth, taut skin beneath, your fingertips tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. Just as your hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring further, he suddenly pulled away. "Don't," he commanded, his voice husky and strained with barely contained desire. Before you could protest, he gripped both of your wrists firmly, pulling you down onto the floor with a swift, controlled movement. Minho loomed over you, his body a cage of heat and muscle, as he pinned your hands above your head with one of his own.

"Let me touch you," you nearly begged, your voice a breathy whisper. Your eyes pleaded with him, filled with a desperate hunger that mirrored his own. Minho's gaze raked over your exposed form, drinking in every curve and dip of your body. His tongue darted out, slowly wetting his lips in a gesture that was both predatory and sensual. His eyes, usually so guarded, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was no mistaking the raw desire etched across his features, his usual composure cracking under the weight of his want.

"Keep your hands here," he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. "Or I'm punishing you." The threat in his words was clear, but instead of fear, it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. Your body tensed in anticipation, wondering what kind of 'punishment' Minho had in mind, and finding yourself eager to find out. In your mind this was a game and you were very eager to play.

You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. Minho's free hand began a torturously slow journey down your body, his touch so light it was almost imperceptible, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake. His fingertips ghosted over the swell of your breast, causing your nipples to harden even more, painfully so. He traced the curve with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched every minute reaction on your face.

His hand continued its descent, following the dip of your waist and the flare of your hip. Each caress was deliberate, as if he were committing every inch of your skin to memory. When he reached your thigh, his touch became firmer, his large hand spanning the width of your leg as he slowly pushed it aside, exposing you further to his hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your hips lifting of their own accord, silently begging for more. Minho's eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours. A smirk played at the corners of his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at your obvious need. "Patience," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers danced along your inner thigh, tracing intricate patterns on the sensitive skin. With each pass, he inched closer to your core, but never quite reaching where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"So responsive," he purred, his eyes gleaming with approval as he watched your body react to his every touch. Finally, mercifully, his fingers brushed against your core. The contact, though light, sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You gasped loudly, your back arching off the floor, pressing yourself more firmly against his hand.

Minho's touch was expert, alternating between feather-light caresses and firm strokes. He explored your folds with deliberate slowness, spreading your wetness and teasing your entrance. When his thumb finally found your sensitive bundle of nerves, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. He circled it slowly, building your pleasure with each precise movement, watching intently as you writhed beneath him.

As he continued his ministrations, you fought against the overwhelming urge to reach for him, to touch him in return. Your hands clenched into tight fists above your head, knuckles turning white with the effort to keep them in place. Every muscle in your body trembled, torn between obedience and desire. Minho noticed your struggle, his smirk widening into a predatory grin that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and husky. The praise washed over you like warm honey, intensifying the heat pooling in your core. Rewarding your obedience, he increased the pressure of his touch, his skilled fingers moving with deliberate precision. Your moans filled the room, growing louder and more desperate as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke of his fingers brought you to new heights of pleasure, your body arching off the floor, seeking more contact.

The air grew thick with the scent of arousal, punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you at an increasing pace. Minho's mouth found your nipples again, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds before trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across your flushed skin. The contrast between the coolness of his breath and the heat of his mouth sent jolts of electricity through your body.

"Oh my god!" You cried out, your voice breaking as Minho's other hand began to rub soft, tantalizing circles over your swollen clit. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure building to an almost painful intensity. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, toes curling as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

"That's right... I am your God," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath fanning over the wetness there, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve ending alight with desire. The need to touch him, to feel more than just his fingers deep inside you, became overwhelming.

Unable to resist any longer, you gave in to temptation. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. At first, you felt smooth, warm skin, taut with muscle. But as your fingers explored further, they encountered raised lines - scars, you realized with a jolt of surprise. Before you could investigate further, Minho's hand shot out, snatching your wrists and pressing them firmly back above your head.

"You don't know how to listen," he growled against your lips, his voice a mixture of frustration and barely contained lust. His free hand pressed hard against your clit, making you gasp, as his fingers slid back inside you with renewed vigor. He fingered you with a roughness that teetered on the brink between pleasure and pain, each thrust of his digits sending shockwaves through your body.

Your response was instantaneous and intense. Your thighs began to shake uncontrollably, your back arching off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Minho's name fell from your lips in a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth as he captured yours in a searing kiss. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, an unstoppable force threatening to consume you entirely.

"Fuck!" The expletive tore from your throat as you struggled against his iron grip, your body writhing beneath him. The pressure continued to build, pushing you closer and closer to that blissful edge. Just as you felt yourself about to tumble over, right on the precipice of sweet release, everything stopped. Minho's fingers were suddenly gone, his hands and body no longer touching you. The abrupt loss of contact left you gasping, your body aching and trembling with unfulfilled need.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, your body aching for release. Minho stood over you, his eyes dark with a coldness you hadn’t seen before. "I told you what would happen if you disobeyed," he said, his voice low and husky. You huffed out in frustration, instantly getting up, your legs shaky as you stepped closer to him. You slapped him hard a cross the face, not being able to hold back your anger. “You bastered your voice dripping with venom. Minho's eyes flashed dangerously, a mix of anger and desire swirling in their depths. In one swift motion, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall. "You're playing a dangerous game, little one," he growled, his lips mere inches from yours.

Minho's lips hungrily pressed into yours, his passion undeniable. At first, you tried to resist, your anger still simmering beneath the surface. But soon, your body betrayed you, responding as it always did to his touch. You melted into him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Your tongue tangled with his in a fierce dance, the taste of him intoxicating.

The kiss stole your breath, leaving you gasping when he finally pulled back. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. "Don't forget," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "you're mine and you only dance for me." The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something wilder, more primal. His hands gripped your waist tightly, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. The gentle lover you had come to know was gone, replaced by this demanding, domineering man who both thrilled and terrified you.

Suddenly, Minho stepped back, breaking all contact. The loss of his warmth left you feeling cold and bereft. You watched, confused, as he picked up his jacket and tossed it to you. "I'll send a car to take you home," he said, his voice now devoid of emotion.

Your confusion turned to disbelief as you saw him reach into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed a stack of bills onto the nearby couch. The implication of the gesture hit you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling. “From now on you’ll come dance at my house.” Minhos words came out harsh and final. He wasn’t giving a choice in this and that pissed you off.

Without another word or even a backward glance, Minho strode out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion swirled in your mind, battling with the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. But above all, a white-hot anger began to bubble up inside you. How dare he treat you like this? The bills on the couch seemed to mock you, reducing what you thought was a passionate encounter to nothing more than a cold, financial transaction.

You stood there, clutching his jacket, your body still tingling from his touch, but your mind reeling from his abrupt departure. The contrast between the intensity of your shared moment and the callousness of his exit left you feeling used and discarded. As the initial shock began to wear off, your anger solidified into a hard, burning core in your chest. You were determined that this wouldn't be the end. Minho would have to answer for his actions, one way or another.

On the other side of the door, Minho maintained his cold, impassive mask as he navigated through the bustling corridors. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, carrying him past curious glances and hushed whispers. The main room, now teeming with patrons, seemed to part before him, his commanding presence demanding respect even in silence.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the neon lights of the club's exterior cast an eerie glow on his features, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He moved with purposeful strides towards his sleek black car, each step measured and controlled. To any onlooker, he appeared the epitome of composure and authority.

It was only when the car door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in the cocoon of privacy, that Minho allowed his carefully constructed facade to crumble. His shoulders sagged, the tension in his jaw released, and a deep, shuddering breath escaped his lips. In the silence of his car, away from prying eyes, the weight of his actions settled heavily upon him. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as a storm of emotions - regret, anger, desire - battled within him.

He was losing his grip, his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unfamiliar emotions. This woman had awakened something in him, a vulnerability he had never experienced before. Your touch, your scent, the way you looked at him - it all threatened to unravel the control he had maintained for so long. Minho found himself caught between desire and fear, longing to let you in while simultaneously wanting to push you away. The intensity of his feelings both thrilled and terrified him, leaving him off-balance and unsure for the first time in years. He realized, with a mixture of awe and dread, that you had the power to either heal or destroy him completely.

Taglist:

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periwinkleserulean · 2 months ago

Text

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐཋ ROOMMATE！dabi/t. touya x fem！reader

━━ trying to find an apartment while trying to save money is hard, thankfully someone saw your post and decided to message you！

━━ reader is indicated to be smaller than dabi, dabi is nicer here but lowkey one of "those" guys at school. dabi's personality was changed to be more laid back and less aggressive, so it's quite ooc. so if you want it to be canon go away this is my fic, my choice 😞.

━━ requests are open ！

ㅤTHE DOOR QUICKLY OPENED after you heard the music tone down, you were met with cerulean eyes looking down at you “Hey, come in.” the male moved to the side so you could get inside, you quickly did so and took in the sight of him. Dabi had pure white messy hair, he wore a white tank top that hugged his torso perfectly, he was wearing black sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, he also had piercings on his face and ears. You decided to stop staring and looked at your surroundings.

ㅤ“That's the kitchen, obviously.” Dabi pointed at your guys’ left, the kitchen was mostly made out of marble and had silver accents. He walked a bit and pointed again “That's the living area, on the left that's my room, on the right would be your room. Both rooms have their own walk-in closets and bathrooms, so you don't need to have a race who gets to shower first. Lastly, the one in the middle is both the storage and laundry room.”

ㅤHe kept pointing to the directions of the rooms, it was simple but the apartment itself was quite large, even if you just stood in the hallway you'd be able to see the majority of the interior. “Geez, your apartment is quite fancy, kinda worried for how much all of this costs.” You felt a bead of sweat drop from your face. “Don't be, I pay for most of the rent depending on my roommate. How much can you afford?” “Uhm,, like ¥50,000. max.” “Then I'll pay for 75%. Not like it'll damage my pockets or something.” Your eyes widen. “Isn't that unfair to you?” “Nah, So are you taking the place or what?”

ㅤYou thought about it, it was a pretty good deal and the place is amazing. “I'll take it, when can I move in?” “Anytime, you can even move in right now, I don't really mind. I can even help you get your stuff and crap.” Your eyes light up at that, your place is filled with boxes since you were so ready to move and leave. “Really? Let's go back to my place then! Although I should warn you, I have a lot of stuff so get your back ready..” “There's nothing I can't handle [name].” The way your name rolled off his tongue made your spine feel tingly and cheeks warm, you watched Dabi get a coat and car keys from a rack hanger near the door. “Come on you slow-poke.” He called out, without looking behind him. You held onto your bag and walked to the door and exited the apartment with him.

ㅤDabi was walking in front of you while you followed, the both of you heading to the apartment's parking lot. He pressed a button on his keys and his car made a sound, a black Lexus LFA. “Y'know, your wealth is slowly intimidating me.” You lightly joked as he opened the car door for you, he huffed with a smile. “‘m used to it.” he said as he shrugged before closing your door after you got inside, he walked to the driver's side and got in too. “Go ahead and put in your address on the GPS.” You did as you were told while you felt the car get colder and colder by the moment. Your fingers softly pressing the buttons on the screen, and it lit up and showed coloured lines for directions. Dabi put the car on accelerate, and left the parking quickly. The ride was quiet, the sound of the engine revving and the air conditioner working filled the air.

ㅤ“So,, why'd you take on engineering?” You attempted to make small talk, he didn't answer immediately so it felt REALLY awkward. “Dunno, jus' felt right. What about you, why'd you take on your course?” you took a moment to think about your answer before speaking up “Parents, specifically my mom. I don't actually want to do my course.” you laughed to try and not dampen the mood. Dabi glanced at you before returning his eyes on the road. “I understand, my old man wanted me to take business management, but I was persistent with what I wanted so, that's that I guess.” You smile realizing that, atleast you and your new roommate had something in common, annoying parental units. The silence was back, but this time it wasn't as uncomfortable as before. It was nice.

ㅤ“YOU'VE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.” you woke up from your small nap with a yawn and stretched out your arms before rubbing your back from the aching pain. “I didn't realize how far you lived.” you raised a brow and looked to your right, where Dabi was staring at you. “Is it really that far? I mean I guess it is since it takes two trains to get to University.” You said before getting out of the car, seeing your apartment. You opened the gate and got inside the premises with Dabi, and headed upstairs to your floor. You got to your door and took out your keys and unlocked it. The both of you went inside as you turned on the lights, a lightbulb slightly flickering before working properly. “Damn, your place is pretty small.” He teased, a raised brow and a smirk plastered on his face. “I'm pretty broke, I thought you already deciphered that.” You stare at him, deadpanned before you giggled slightly. “Come on, let's get started, I feel like we'll be at this for awhile..”

⟢ TIMESKIP. . . THE NEXT DAY ！

ㅤ“Dollface.” You felt a finger poke your cheek as you slept, but you ignored it. Until it kept poking you repeatedly. You sighed and opened your eyes slightly to see Dabi crouching in front of your bed. “Dabi? What are you doing in my room..” “We have orientation in a few hours, you should get ready.” You got up from your spot so fast “Really?! I thought that was next week!” “It is. Just wanted to say breakfast is ready.” “SERIOUSLY?!” “I'll meet you in the kitchen.” your new roommate yelled out as he exited your newly decorated room from last night.

ㅤYou got out of your room as you rubbed your eyes, smelling the freshly cooked food from the kitchen counter. You could see Dabi already munching on his breakfast, noticing your presence but not paying you any mind. You took a seat beside him and laid your head on the counter, barely fighting off your sleepiness. “Why'd you have to wake me up, it's so early...” “It's 1:00 pm.” You mumbled incoherent words, something along the lines that it's not breakfast anymore while Dabi chuckled deeply. “Come on and eat, the food'll get cold.” You slowly rose your head up from the counter and started getting your desired food along with your rice.

ㅤ“So, you excited for Uni?” Dabi asked, his mouth half full with food. “Not really, it's just another stressful year i have to endure.” You felt his eyes linger on you longer, before he made a humming sound of acknowledgement. “What did'ya wanna take anyway?” “Oh, nothing. I didn't really think I'd get this far in my life, kinda expected I'd die or something.” You huffed out a gentle chuckle as a smirk adorned your lips.

ㅤ“For a gal like you I didn't expect you to be dark like that.” Dabi snickered, before standing up and washing his dishes. “I'm going to the grocery store, want anything? My treat, since I doubt you can afford it.” He teased, you looked at him offended before agreeing with the insult. “Some sweets would be nice, and chips.” “Got it, any kind in particular?” you told him which ones you wanted, before he said bye and left.

𓂃 ࣪˖ 𝓕rom me ！⟢ i love this man

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daisybianca · 1 year ago

Note

“please leave a comment if you want a second part!”

AS IF WE’D EVER SAY NO. PLS BLESS W A PART TWO🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

pairing: lewis hamilton x femalereader

summary: lewis gives you secretly his number. you're hesitant to call him at first, but when you do, things get a little much more interesting.

warnings: cursing words, sexual thoughts

(a/n): here's the previous part 1! Here's the next and last one, part 3!

BLINDING FLASHING lights appeared, and glancing out of the window, you very discreet (not at all) black car parking just at the entrance of your apartment. A few moments later, horn sounds reached your ear, making your stomach swirl nervously around.

Were you really doing this?

"Live some adventure," the voice of your best friend mumbled into your mind, reminding you that sometimes you get to have some fun in order to forget work and responsibilities.

You chose to wear a pink, sliky dress that felt perfect on your curves and skin.

You grabbed your white purse and rushed out, locking the door behind you.

You weren't brave enough to look directly at the car once you were out, but when you turned around to walk towards it, a figure had already stepped out of it.

Lewis' dark eyes rised and then he took a double look at you. Then smiled.

"Hey, love," Lewis mumbled as he came in front of you, and you could swear that his lips had landed to your glossy lips for a brief moment, which by the way seemed like an eternity to you.

"Hey," you smiled widely. (Brushing your teeth almost 10 times before the date was surely tiring, so you had to show off your perfectly white smile, right?)

"You look..." Lewis scanned you from head to toes momentarily. "Ravishing."

A small laughter escaped from your lips. "I love your vocabulary."

"Oh, thank you, love," he gently grabbed your hand and helped you down the stairs. He was swearing a total white outfit, complimenting his tanned skin and making his multiple tattoos stand out more.

Your best friend was totally right. You didn't know if Greek Gods were actually real, but if they were, one of them had to had his name.

Lewis Hamilton.

He opened the door for you, and when you entered, murmuring a small 'thank you', he shut it gently and moved around the car to reach the other door.

The car was fabulously luxurious and looked ridiculously like its owner. Pretty, deluxe and fancy, and surely fast as hell.

The other door closed, and Lewis' masculine aroma filled your nostrils brutally. You couldn't exactly place the brand of the perfume, but it was something like a masculine mixture of heaven and perfection.

"Do you like fast cars?" Lewis asked, fastening his belt.

"Um, I own a grumpy Lexus that even my 11-year-old nephew could beat in a race." You joked, and he immediately burst into laughter. It was rather inevitable to smile back. "It's not that I don't like speed... it's just that... I'm kind of scared."

"Scared?" Lewis asked, raising his dark eyebrows in curiosity.

"Not for me, of course." You said. "I'm too young to rot into prison because of driving over a dozen of people."

Lewis smiled. "Well, I think you're just with the right person." He spoke, and the engine growled furiously as it came to life.

"Hey, this car is truly awesome, you know," you scratched the bare skin of your exposed thigh, and oh, holy shit, Lewis peered at it for a moment that stretched for what seemed like, FOREVER.

"Yeah, I know," He caressed the steering wheel. "I should name her. Any good ideas?"

You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to suggest your name.

"I need something that sounds elegant and pretty." He clarified and turned to face you.

His eyes burned on your skin as you gazed out of the window, hoping that his stare would cease being that intense and fuckable.

"What about Bella or Alice?" You suggested, bringing into mind your sister's twins.

Lewis seemed to think about it for a second. "Nah, too basic." He spoke a few moments later. "I'm sure you'll have a better suggestion until the end of the night."

The car stopped moving, and you got rid of your seat belt.

The ride was full of side intense glances, awfully hot compliments of his that drove you to insanity, and lots, lots of flirting.

"Is this your only car apart from the F1 one?" You asked as he opened the door for you to step out.

A true gentleman.

"No," he said. "Just one of 'em."

You turned around, and a massive building fulled your vision. It was a huge mansion that screamed mafia-boss-on-wattpad, and made your knees feel weak.

You waited for him in order to start strolling towards the house, but when he stepped next to you, his hand gently found yours and wrapped tightly around it.

You looked at your intertwined fingers, and he smiled. "My house has a ridiculously big amount of stairs. I don't want you falling from date one, do I?" He joked. If the tension of the eye contact was palpable, then physical touch was going to be the very end of you.

"So... I suppose you don't like holding my hand, right? It's all about safety." You fake rolled your eyes at the last sentence and hoped he noticed.

"Don't expose me like that, love." Lewis said, his British accent bold and alive.

When you got inside, you almost fainted and permanently lost your vision. Everything was cleaned to perfection. You could practically utilize the floor as a mirror to see if your pink dress was well-ironed.

"Do you like it?" Lewis asked, abandoning his car keys on a counter.

"Nah, too shiny and pretty." You joked.

"Yeah, just like you." He responded from behind, and your cheeks changed a pallette of five different shades of red.

You turned to face him directly. "I love it."

He smiled and walked towards a miny bar next to a massive kitchen. You noticed that his intoxicating cologne had been replaced by the smell of freshly cooked food. Looking a few feet away, mouth-watering food was placed on a dinner table.

He cooked?

"Red or white wine?" Lewis asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"Red." You replied. "But I swear, I'm a Mercedes fan."

He laughed and grabbed a bottle, reading something oj it at first. Then, he opened it and walked towards the dinner table, placing it on it.

He dragged one chair and let you sit.

When he did too, you chose to ask, "Where's Roscoe?"

"To a friend's," he replied. "I left him there because I didn't know if you liked dogs."

"You sent him away because of me?" You laughed. "Everyone loves dogs!"

He let out a breath before stating, "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

You shrugged. "It's fine. I just... I wanted to meet him. I think he's cute."

Lewis filled your empty glass with tasteful red liquid. "Good for me. Seems like I'm inviting you to dinner till you meet him." He said, innocently looking away.

Fuck.

This man was going to be the end of you.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Unsolicited 2

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Wouldn't mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

On your way out, you stop and grab a few groceries to justify your trip to the mall. You still have a lot to do when you get home and your mind’s already three steps ahead; tidy up, put everything away, wrap the gift, and the most tedious task of getting yourself done up. The reservation you made a week ago fills you with dread.

You pop the trunk and drop in the bags, tucking the watch safely between them. As you close the trunk, a hand slaps down on the metal, startling you. It’s him, that man.

“Excuse me,” he steps closer and you back away, “try not to dirty my car.”

You frown as he gets nearer and side steps you. You look around at the Lexus parked just behind your beat up Neesan. Fuck, really?

You huff and shake your head as you skirt around to the driver’s side, “you take that watch back for grocery money or–” You ignore him as you unlock the car door, “I got some spare change in my glove compartment if you really need the gas money.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap as you swing your door open.

“I might even take my wallet out if you take the coat off. Heave up the tits and–”

You growl and drop into the seat. Before you can slam the door, it’s caught and you look up at the man as his hand holds it back. Panic thumps in your chest and you pull on the handle frantically.

“What the fuck– get–” You hit the horn with your other hand, “help–”

“Oh, shut up,” he snarls and lets the door go. It snaps closed and you jolt in the seat.

He bends down and taps on the window with his knuckles. You ignore him as you hit the lock switch and fumble with your keys. Why won’t he leave you alone? You twist the ignition and the engine chuffs to life.

He steps in front of your car as he reaches under his jacket. He slips out his leather wallet and plucks out a bill. He waves it in the air.

“How about a backseat handie, babe?” You hit your horn again and he winces, covering his ears, “fuck! It’s the best offer you’ll get.”

You hit the gas, lurching forward so he staggers away. He drops the bill and stomps his foot as he stops.

“Woah, woah, baby, I’m tryna apologise here.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you holler through the windshield, “now!”

You let off the break again and he stumbles out of your path. You roll on and he kicks the side of your car. You squeeze the wheel as your adrenaline pumps through your veins. As you steer between the rows of vehicles, your tears spill out at last.

You idle at the end of the column and take out your phone. You check your rearview. There’s no one behind you. Still, it’s good to be prepared. Just in case.

You breathe out and leave your phone unlocked in the passenger’s seat. You put your hands back on the wheel and continue through the lot, finding the nearest exit as you keep checking your side and rear mirrors.

As you turn onto the street, you see a flash of dark blue, the same shade as the Lexus. You putter at the red light and look over your shoulder then check your mirror again. It’s not there. You’re paranoid.

You wipe your face and sniff up your fear. You just want to get home and get everything sorted out. It was just one very strange, upsetting encounter. You aren’t going to let it ruin Colin’s surprise.

💎

"Babe, did I tell you how hot you look?" Colin purrs as he pulls out your chair.

You blush, touching your warm cheeks as you sit. You thank him as he sits across from you, the hostess handing out menus and reciting the specials. She leaves you to peruse as you hold your purse anxiously in your lap.

"Getting ready to go so soon?" Colin kids as he watches you wring the strap.

"N-no, no," you say, still uneasy.

You just want to give him his gift. It's what today's all been about yet that shadow follows you, the man from the jewelry shop calling out your extra rolls like you don't already know. At least your husband's kind enough to act like they don't exist.

"This place is nice," he says, "new job hasn't started yet."

"I know, it's my treat," you teeter on the edge of your seat "I've been saving and I just want you to know that I love you."

"Of course I know that–"

"No, no, I wanna show you and I wanna be better. I'm gonna be more active and keep up with things better," you chew your lip and unzip your purse, the fabric chafing your hips as you're reminded of the too small dress pinching your skin, "and I picked up some extra shifts."

You dig your hand in your bag and take out the wrapped box. The shiny green paper catching the chandelier above your table. You put it in front of him and sit back.

"I'm proud of you. Your new job, how you take care of me…"

"What…"

"Just open it," you insist, "please."

He chuckles and looks around, "I hope you didn't spend too much. It's been tight."

"It's not from our account, I've been saving, just don't worry about that."

"Alright, alright," he traces along a fold and jams his thumb underneath. He tears through and your anticipation has you vibrating.

As he pulls away the paper he turns the box over. He sees the jeweler's logo and gives pause, sending a look in your direction. His cheek twitches and he pops open the lid on its hinges.

"Gotta be spiffy for the new job," you say, "do you like it?"

He stares and for a moment, you're scared.

"I love it, but it must've been so expensive."

"No, no, I got a good deal and even added on the insurance so you can get it cleaned–"

"You need a new car and you're buying me a watch," he sighs.

"Colin, I–"

"I know, I know, it's amazing, babe, you're amazing but…" he looks up and his throat bobs, "what did I do to deserve you?"

"Me? What about you? You're–"

Your name interrupts your sentence. You freeze, the timbre throwing you off. You furrow your brow as Colin gives an equally confused look. You slowly look over as a man steps up beside you. It's that man. How does he know who you are?

"Hi, can I help you?" Colin interjects.

"Can I help you, bozo?" The stranger replies, "who the fuck are you?"

"I– I'm her husband, who the fuck are you?" Colin shifts in his seat.

"Husband? Baby, you didn't mention a husband. Oh, look at that, you put your ring back on," the man continues.

"What? No, huh?" You sputter, "would you just go–"

"Babe, who is this?" Colin asks.

"I don't know, he–"

"Don't worry about paying me back, baby, the old man looks like he needs something snappy," he winks at Colin, "jeez, wish you'd said something, I'd have been more subtle–"

"You fucking this dude?" Colin exclaims as he stands, "is that where you got the money?" He throws the watch down and injects himself between the table and the stranger, "you're fucking my goddamn wife?"

"Someone's gotta," the man taunts.

"No, no– I don't know him. He--" you grab Colin's arm and he rips away from you, "please, listen to me, he's just some jerk from the store–"

"And how does he know your name?"

"I don't know. I don't even know who he is, please. I–"

"She calls me daddy," the guy snickers and Colin turns to shove him, nearly sending him into the next table. Half the restaurant stares in your direction.

"Give him the fucking watch!" Colin growls at you, "fucking slut."

He grabs his jacket and storms out. You blink dumbly and turn to snatch your purse. The man moves into your path before you can follow your husband.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" You rasp.

"Like I said, you can call me daddy," he flicks your chin, "Lloyd works too."

You sneer and elbow past him, flinching as his hand bounces off your ass. You don't look back as you hurry away, desperate to catch up to Colin before he's gone. You don't understand what just happened.

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #au #the grey man #the gray man

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xander-voight · 7 months ago

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The dull hum of fluorescent lights filled the cramped room, casting a clinical glow over the surroundings.

Xander was slouched against the cool metal of his chair. His gaze was fixed on the lone clock hung on the wall; his fingers drummed against the table in time with the seconds ticking by. It was nearing 6 AM. Soon his phone would buzz with text after text from Gemma inquiring over his whereabouts.

Not that he would be able to read them.

He’d been sitting there for the better part of an hour – waiting. His personal belongings had been taken before he was unceremoniously thrust into the interrogation room with a gruff A detective will be in shortly sent his way.

If he were a sane man, he would feel nervous. He’d been caught unaware. Found in a stolen car at a drop-off location with his backpack filled with incriminating evidence.

But he was relaxed. His head lolled back, and his eyes closed – yielding to the exhaustion he felt.

Tired eyes peaked open as the door swung to reveal a detective on the other side. He walked in and sat himself across the table in the only available chair. Xander slowly lifted his head and straightened in the seat; the metal of his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor as he shifted forward.

The detective sighed and popped open the folder in front of him before clearing his throat. “Let’s start from the beginning, Alex,” Detective Bishop began, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me what happened.”

Xander’s gaze flickered between Detective Bishop and the two-way mirror behind him, his reflection cloaked in indifference. “Like I already told the officers,” Xander muttered and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “This is just a misunderstanding. Classic case of wrong place, wrong time.”

The detective leaned forward; gaze fixed on Xander and his expression unyielding. “You were found inside of a silver Lexus. Officer Danes made contact with the registered owner who verified it was stolen sometime after they returned home – around 1 AM.”

“I was walking by and I saw it parked there. The door was wide open, and no one was around so I got in to see what was up,” Xander explained slowly, his tone measured. “I didn’t know curiosity was a crime.”

“So, you were just a concerned citizen,” Detective Bishop offered in faux understanding. Xander nodded his head in agreement, muttering a quick “Yeah, yeah – exactly.”

“Tell me, do you normally carry around a bunch of key fobs?” The detective's voice trailed off as his eyes skimmed over the details outlined on the sheet. “And it says here you had various tools on you?”

“I’m a mechanic,” Xander countered. “I always have tools on me.”

“You had what appears to be a signal manipulator,” Detective Bishop interrupted, his tone rising in volume to drown out Xander’s explanation. “Is that a normal tool for a mechanic to use?”

Xander’s mouth opened to answer, but the detective quickly cut him off. “If you ask me, none of this looks good for you, Alex.”

Silence filled the room.

Xander hesitated. His eyes narrowed slightly for a beat before he finally grinned and leaned forward. Detective Bishop raised an eyebrow, prompting Xander to speak. “I think it’s time I talked to a lawyer,” Xander uttered with a laugh. He leveled the detective with a stare – questioning. “I get a phone call, right?”

The detective gave him a second look before standing. With a brief nod of his head, he headed out of the interrogation room leaving Xander in the quiet once more.

“Hello?”

Xander sighed.

“Hey, uhhh… it’s Xander. I don’t have a lot of time, but can you be a good brother-in-law and break it to Bea that I need her to call up that lawyer we know? And uhhh… you think you can get to a bank? I might need some bail money.”

#[xander 02]

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livwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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2002, established relationship, dads!steddie living in boston with their 1yo daughter, another excerpt of this bc i think it's my actual fav part

“I’m done with this goddamn city,” Ed yelled up the stairs, “So fuckin’ serious, Steve. I’m out.”

Steve sighed, well-acquainted with this one of Ed’s many tirades.

Just as he was standing up from where he’d been sitting at his desk looking over some notes and prepping for a counseling session later that afternoon, he heard the door shut loudly (though not a full slam, he noted, because Ed had Moe with him). He headed out into the hallway in time to see Ed coming up the stairs, Moe balanced in one arm.

“What happened now?” Steve asked.

“An idiot BU kid driving Daddy’s Lexus almost T-boned me with Moe in the backseat because — apparently — red lights are just a fucking suggestion here.”

“I mean…I’m pretty sure you ran every red light in Hawkins when you were nineteen.”

It wasn’t a helpful comment, per se, and Steve knew that, but when Ed was riled up like this, there really weren’t any helpful comments available.

“That’s entirely different,” Ed countered, passing Moe over to him so he could pull off his own jacket, “There’s, like, six people on the road at any given moment in Hawkins, and two traffic lights.”

“Okay, well, we can move, love,” Steve said tiredly, steadily approaching his limit for how many times he could listen to Eddie rant about this particular issue without taking any sort of real action to solve it, “Nobody said we had to stay in Boston. Also — we can actually afford to buy a house now, so…”

“Wha— we can?”

“A down payment, yeah.”

“The fuck is a downpayment?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. He’d long since become comfortable with his role in his and Ed’s finances — being that he’s almost entirely in charge of them. He knew that Ed had grown up worrying about money in a way that Steve never had to so he actually liked being able to take over that part of their life together. He liked being able to let Ed not think about it (even though sometimes it meant that his thirty-five-year-old life partner asked him what a goddamn down payment was), “It’s kind of like putting a security deposit down on an apartment, except instead of for securing a lease, it’s for securing a loan — sort of. That’s…there’s better ways of explaining it, and there’s a lot more to it, but it’s sort of like we’re paying a certain amount of the mortgage upfront to prove that we’re committed to paying it off month-to-month.”

“How much is it?”

“Depends,” Steve shrugged, running a hand over Moe’s hair as she started to doze off, her head drooping down to rest on his shoulder, “Pretty sure twenty percent is considered, like, ideal, or something, so it all comes down to what our budget is.”

“What’s our budget?”

Steve leveled an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Ed asked.

“Do you actually wanna know? Because when I tried to show you our electric bill last week you pretended to be asleep.”

“Uh — buying a fuckin’ house together is totally different from you reprimanding me about leaving the heat on too long.”

“I don’t think I’d have to reprimand you anymore if you saw the electric bill.”

“Okay — yes, Stevie, I actually would like to be involved in our finances just this once because I care very, very deeply about us buying a house. I really do.”

“Alright,” he replied, knowing he still sounded a tad skeptical, “I mean, if you actually wanna know about this stuff, I’ve got some spreadsheets I’ve been using to keep track of that kind of thing, and we can—”

“Baby, if you wanted to talk about spreading sheets, all you had to do was ask,” Ed grinned wickedly, an expression that slowly began to fade as his eyes slid off of Steve’s and onto the opposite wall, probably as he considered how wise a comment that had been to make.

Steve stared at him for a long while.

“Okay,” he finally said, “I’m gonna go put our child down for a nap. If in that time you decide you can be a grownup while we talk about spending a fuck-load of money on property we’ll own and be entirely responsible for, let me know.”

“You got it, man.”

#steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #the satellite and the sky #in case it wasn't clear i am fed up with bos traffic #eventually eddie convinces steve to show him the spreadsheets and he understands like .001% of them #also steve manages to pin eddie down long enough to show him the electric bill and he does indeed start remembering to turn down the heat

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autogloaustralia · 11 days ago

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stripedstarsblueflags · 3 months ago

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i feel so high school (au) pt. 5.C: pierresteban

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(pierresteban continued)

ANYWAY so after that particular dance both of their heads are just like !!??!!??!! until finally they're both outside the studio and esteban starts walking away immediately and pierre– actually yknow what i'm gonna write a bit how the conversation more or less goes

p: hey. esteban. ESTIE!

e (whirling around): don't FUCKING call me that! .... what?!

p: hey, can... can we talk?

e (mind exploding in anger and frustration and confusion and need to retreat): i have nothing to say to you. –– and i need to catch the bus.

p: this late?

e (scoffs): yeah, sorry, my lexus is in the shop.

p: i can give you a ride...

and because esteban is shellshocked and not thinking straight and tired and fine maybe he's weak to his own stupid imagination he says yes. and esteban can't decide if it's creepy or achingly sweet that pierre remembers where his house is and doesn't make a single wrong turn or ask for directions once. and then they just sit in the parked car far enough down the street that esteban's parents couldn't see and just stare straight ahead and the silence stretches on with everything they haven't said confessed screamed at each other for years until pierre just mumbles in the most broken voice esteban has heard since they were kids and pierre's dog died

he tells esteban what happened, why he missed school. what he lost.

and the conversation is awkward and hesitant and walking on broken glass because they haven't had an actual sit-down conversation alone for years but esteban knows instinctively like this is killing him. after all this time i'm still the only person he trusts with the fractured pieces of his heart and he has to fucking tell someone because this is destroying him inside and maybe he just reaches out and puts his hand on the console in between the seats so it's there if pierre wants it and pierre does

pierre just reaches over and closes his eyes and takes esteban's hand and squeezes it and they're both pretending like pierre's face isn't shining with tears that glint in the flickering street lights and there's more silence but this time it's different, it feels like they're both thinking the exact same thing but both too scared

e: it's getting late...

p: yeah, yeah, sorry. you should probably go. (draws his hand away)

e: looks down at his own empty hand, then at the car door handle: yeah.

[waiting]

before he can chicken out esteban leans over and kisses pierre on the cheek before he says goodnight and then he gets out of the car

and in the following weeks they don't know how to talk to each other but they both know that something's going on, there's a spark catching and they're both terrified of the light but irrepressibly drawn to the heat. maybe they both sign up for an hour or so of empty studio time a week to practice and maybe there's only one studio available that late at night and they both know it. maybe they do more partner routines maybe they do the same choreo maybe they watch each other in the mirror for a little too long. pierre drives esteban home every week and then it gets to the point where he picks esteban up from class even on the days pierre doesn't have class himself and they start finding places around town that become their places just at night. places they remember. a park, a 7-11, a hiking trail, a waffle house (because nothing says teenage queer romance like waffle house)

esteban gets selected for the solo routine in that year's recital and the first time he practices his routine on stage/in full costume it's just him and pierre and pierre watches cross-legged from the very edge of the stage and when esteban finally finished pierre stands up and he's openly crying, and esteban's out of breath and dizzy from dancing his fucking heart out and he just gasps like, "what?" because even after everything he's never seen pierre look at him like that and pierre just shakes his head in shock and awe and murmurs, "you're beautiful"

we all know what happens after that

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naoyaslut · 2 years ago

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Part I | Part II

pairings: time skip ran haitani x femreader

w.count: 5k

synopsis: Against your better judgement, you agree to meet Mr. Ran Haitani for a job opportunity.

tw: spitting, fingering, oral (m.receiving), penetration, light praising, sex under the influence, doggystyle, pet names

a/n: - maniacal laughter-

After receiving an ultimatum from your current employers, “Resign now and we won’t disclose the details of your last case” or “We can fire you, but we will have to disclose what went on in that last case.” You decided to resign… keeping your head low and out of the possible headlines of the newspapers.

You were a fairly new lawyer; you hadn’t been practicing long and this was the first firm you’d ever been a part of in your professional career. You were distraught and unsure of where you were supposed to go from here.

How were you supposed to explain to your parents who gladly paid for your education knowing that you would be successful in the end? You’d managed to secure an entry-level position at one of the top firms in your area and now here you were desperately scrolling through the classifieds and applying anywhere you could to get some sort of income.

Bills needed to be paid. You’d barely had the Lexus for a year, and you just moved into a nice penthouse apartment located in downtown Roppongi. If you didn’t find employment anytime soon, you were going to be giving back all the nice gifts you bought yourself for a job well done over the past year.

Fidgeting nervously with the black business card in your hand, you folded the laptop you were working on closed and stood up. That card, that black card had "the" Ran Haitani’s name etched on it in white lettering accompanied with a fax number, a DSN, and what you assumed to be a cell phone number.

If by any chance you decide to change your mind, call me. I’ll pick up at any time of the day for you.

And you did. You actually called him because you were terrified of not being able to find another job. Not at all because of the material items that you owned and didn’t want to lose, but the uncertainty of not being able to make a living plus the disappointment from your family felt as if it may be an impending doom for you.

Leaning back against the leather booth you sat in; you idly stirred the cup of ice water you had been drinking from. Ran was supposed to meet you here at this upscale Italian restaurant and you’d been sitting at the secluded table for the past 15 minutes.

If you weren’t so desperate to see what he had to say, you would have been walking out of the door already. When you entered the establishment, the hostess at the front escorted you back to an empty table.

She informed you that Mr. Haitani was expecting you and offered to get you something off the menu. You declined to order anything to eat but settled for a glass of iced water with a lemon wedge.

Sighing in exasperation, you leaned forward to rest both of your elbows on the table. The fact that he hadn’t shown up yet put you on edge. Not only was this man supposedly a criminal, but he had also offered you a position to work for him doing only God knows what.

Since the restaurant happened to be upscale, you opted to dress in one of your better dresses. It was simple enough a little black dress with thin straps paired with a pair of chain-link Giani Bini heels. Rather than dressing like this was a business proposition, you dressed as if you were meeting your significant other for a date.

Swiping a stray curl behind your ear, you glanced at your watch visibly upset at how much time had passed by now. Instead of the measly ten minutes, you’d been sitting here all dolled up for twenty minutes and that was enough for you.

Taking hold of your little black purse, you stood up adjusting the hem of your dress back down over your thighs. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have come here at all. You’d get a call for a position in no time, there was no need to be hasty.

As soon as you stepped outside of the booth you were greeted by Ran Haitani towering over you with a satisfied grin slapped on his face. He purposely blocked your path to prevent you from wandering any further while his eyes roamed over your attire appreciatively.

“Ms. Y/n, I apologize for my tardiness. You look… amazing,”

Taking a tentative step away from him, you ignored his compliment gripping your bag tightly against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, nervous and gnawing on your bottom lip. “This was a mistake, sorry to waste your time,”

This time you stepped forward with the intent to go around him but instead, one of his hands shot out to grasp at your waist to keep you in place.

Gasping in surprise, you stopped where you were and allowed him to guide you back toward the booth. He purred almost seductively in your ear as he urged you to sit before turning to sit in the booth opposite of you.

“Oh c’mon, at least hear my offer before you try to run away from me,”

You sighed anxiously making eye contact with him and watched as he called the waiter over. At least hear his offer? For whatever reason you doubted he wanted you to hire a lawyer of any sort, he didn’t need a damn lawyer. You were positive he could pay for one of the top lawyers in the city for any of his legal requirements, there was no way in hell he needed a fresh-faced lawyer like you in his arsenal.

This whole situation made you nervous and you wondered why and how something as stupid as what happened in court a few weeks before decided to descend on you. Who did you piss off?

“So…?” you urged. The waiter brought Ran something dark on ice and left the table immediately after. He picked up the chilled glass and took a long drink, his Adams apple bobbing as it slithered down his throat.

“Did you want to order anything, y/n?” Ran flashed you his pearly whites and again you avoided the heat in his gaze, opting to stare off into the vacant restaurant instead.

“Mr. Haitani, please.” You were already growing irritated that he didn’t seem pressed to get to the point of why the two of you were here. To discuss his “proposition”.

Ran lifted his glass tilting the rim towards himself as he watched the dark liquor swirl around the crystal glass, his lavender-tinted iris’ hyper-focusing on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Then suddenly he barked out a chuckle, staring into your pretty face before adjusting his tie.

“The job opportunity isn’t hiring you as a lawyer,”

You fucking knew it.

“I’m sure you already know that I don’t need to hire anyone for legal counsel. I have that covered.”

Your throat tightened in suspense while you continued to observe his actions and the way those slender digits of his began to fumble with his tie loosening it so he could completely remove it.

The action seemed sultry; it caused your breath to hitch in your throat the aggravation you already felt beginning to blossom into pure frustration with the handsome man across from you.

“So, what do you want from me?” you snapped angrily. Crossing both arms across your bosom, you glared at him agitated waiting for him to continue.

“You can think of it as an assistant of sorts,” he began. He lifted his glass once more to indulge in his drink before shaking it lightly in his grasp. “I need help with a few things here and there and the pay is outstanding for what will be required of you.”

Staring at him in disbelief, you went over his words which were extremely vague. It didn’t make sense… were you really going to put yourself into this position for what he was offering you?

He could tell you were considering it, it made him smile even more to see how desperate you seemed.

“I’ll pay you a year’s salary upfront,” he mentioned it rather offhandedly, leaning back to throw an arm over the back of the booth. “1 year of your assistance, and if you don’t want to continue after that you can seek employment elsewhere.”

He wasn’t serious, was he? You didn’t know how much he was willing to shell out to have you as an assistant, but deep down in your gut, you knew that he would make it worth your while. Your eyes avoided his for a third time tonight looking around as if there could be someone else listening to your conversation.

Wringing your hands nervously within one another, you hesitated once more beginning to shake your head as if to decline.

“Mr. Haitani…”

“150,000 dollars, does that sound doable to you?” he asked nonchalantly.

You nearly stopped breathing staring at him, eyes wide in shock. For him to just throw around numbers like that, he must have been loaded.

“It’s the least I can do for you since I kinda got you fired,”

You could feel a sudden rush of heat creeping up the back of your neck upon the reminder of what had you in your current dilemma. How he accused you of seducing him so that you couldn’t represent your former client.

This was actually mortifying. There was no fucking way that you were going to accept this, he was the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

Ran must have seen the way your face began to contort, your embarrassment causing you to grit your teeth in frustration just before you had decided to stand up and storm out.

“Alright, 200,000 dollars,”

You were frozen once more in your seat while you watched him take out a checkbook from his pocket. He began to calmly fill in his information, finally writing in the dollar amount of 200,000 dollars before ripping it out neatly and sliding it across the tabletop.

“I told you I’d make sure you were taken care of, right?”

And that’s how you found yourself working for Ran Haitani. You had enough money in your bank account that you didn’t have to worry about anything for the time being.

Working for Ran was easy. The title of an assistant was… not what you would label yourself at all. Ran was flexible, he never asked you to do anything strenuous or completely out there when it came to working.

But you were under the impression that instead of an assistant he wanted something more from you. You didn’t mind him, he treated you nicely. You never had to spend your own money on anything, and it seemed that you were more of a maid than an assistant.

He had an assistant for his office, but you? You were expected to do the most random tasks ever. He asked you over in the mornings to help pick out his suits for the day and then he forced you to stay to have breakfast with him.

Sometimes you’d accompany him throughout the day when he wasn’t working to go shopping… visit the upscale salons he got groomed at and he’d often force you to receive services as well. Any time he had an event to attend, he demanded that you were his plus one and he paid for everything, including your attire without so much as a complaint.

Unlocking the front door to Ran’s penthouse, you pushed the door open before stepping aside to hold it open for him. Once he entered you closed the door behind him and watched as he stumbled across the living room before collapsing onto the leather sofa in his living room.

He leaned back against the soft material letting out a relieved sigh and focusing his glossy eyes on you still standing with your hand still placed on the doorknob.

Ran had been drinking a lot tonight. Even for him as an avid drinker, he was obviously tipsy.

Eyeing him wearily, you canted your head off to the side before tucking your bag under your arm. You had a few drinks yourself, but he may have overdone it.

“Ran, are you going to be alright?” you asked.

He gave you the dopiest smile, his face exceedingly flushed from the amount of alcohol he took in at the event tonight.

He hummed thoughtfully at your question before he sat up and began to remove the suit jacket he’d still been wearing.

“I don’t know, I think I’d like you to stay for a little while longer,” Shrugging his coat off his shoulders, he gave you a crooked grin tossing it over the arm of the sofa. “Just in case,”

You almost rolled your eyes at the request, but this man had taken care of every aspect of your life over the past few months. It just didn’t feel right to blow him off when he was obviously intoxicated.

Clearing your throat, you turned the lock on his front door and tested the handle just to be sure it was secure. The heels of your stilettos clicked against the wooden floor as you crossed the room to sit beside him on the sofa.

Sitting your purse beside you, you leaned down and began to untie the strap to your shoes before slipping them off your feet with a sigh like the one Ran had done upon sitting.

Ran had been spoiling you. Literally spoiling you, as if you were his girlfriend. The sexual tension between the two of you was at an all-time high, but you were adamant about keeping it platonic. This “situation” was already as awkward as it could have been, there was no need to throw sex into the mix to make it worse.

Would it really be that bad though?

Mumbling under your breath, you kicked your shoes off before leaning against the sofa and dragging your feet up with you so that you were sitting on your heels.

“What do you need me to do while I’m here?” Pulling the black evening gown back over your thighs, you turned your head to meet Ran’s inquisitive gaze.

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

Kissing the back of your teeth, you blinked at him dumbly your eyes following his palm that had nestled itself along the exposed skin on your thigh.

“I know the answer already,” Pursing your lips together, an involuntary shiver wafted down your spine as his fingers began to trail themselves toward the apex of your thighs pausing to brush the backs of them against the front of your satin underwear.

Ran had a smug grin on his face while his fingers continued to tease your inner thigh, his eyes low and honed in on the exposed skin.

Swallowing the sudden dryness that began to plague your throat, your eyes met his again with him leaning toward you his other hand cusping along your jaw. The pad of his thumb swiped across the plump flesh of your bottom lip as if to wipe away the faint gloss from the surface.

“Then you’re already aware of how much I want to see this cute little mouth stretched out around my cock, don’t you?”

You were suddenly overcome with a throbbing need between your thighs, confusion overpowering any and all logic that you may have possessed. You wanted to cringe at his crass choice of words, you were supposed to be turned off… not willingly leaning into the warmth of his fingertips.

“So, you’re paying me for the semblance of being an assistant… but in reality, you just want to fuck me,” you breathed.

Ran hummed in response, his eyes half-mast and focusing solely on the plush of your lips. He smiled gently, pushing his thumb into your mouth so the pad settled against your tongue.

“I know for a fact that I’m not the only one who wants to fuck the other,” He watched you tentatively, the way your own eyes became hooded, your lips fixing around his thumb gently suctioning the appendage.

What in the hell were you doing?

“Come on y/n, show me what you really want to do to me,” he pulled his thumb from your mouth, using the wetness to gloss your bottom lip.

The rough timbre in his voice sent an unsolicited shiver down your spine and without much more coaxing you sank onto the floor between his sturdy thighs.

Peering up at him through your lashes, your stomach began to flutter at the pleased expression on his face. He was grinning almost lazily, the tip of his tongue visible at the corner of his lips while one of his hands worked to loosen the tie around his neck.

His light-colored eyes were intense and focused. He held your gaze and patiently waited for you to continue your pursuit. Exhaling a shaky breath, you reached for the waist of his dark slacks unfastening the metallic clasp and then forcing the zipper down.

He was wearing grey silk boxer briefs the outline of his dick straining against the material… along with a damp patch soiling the front of the expensive silk. Your heart pounded harder against your ribcage, those familiar butterflies finding their place in the depths of your abdomen.

He was desperate for you, that much was obvious, and the knowledge of his desire made you feel near helpless and extremely needy. Reaching into the silk hem of his boxer shorts, you grasped hold of the stiff, hot appendage that sat between his thighs.

Pulling his cock free from the material, you palmed his length squeezing tentatively along the stiffening base. You could hear his breath hitch above you, the low grumble of his voice coming a moment after.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, pretty girl,” Ran leaned forward down toward you, his palm cusping your cheek as if to inspire you further.

You didn’t know why his words were having this effect on you, but your chest was all but bursting with determination upon seeing that handsomely chiseled face hovering above you. Initially, you were against adding any sexual encounter into the mix here, but how could you deny this beautiful creature towering above you?

Eyes glossy and shining over with unshed tears, you closed the short distance between the ruddy-colored tip of his dick before taking the appendage slowly into the warmth of your mouth. Once the flat of your tongue made contact with him, his head fell back flat against the headrest of his seat, and that hand that had been holding your cheek almost lovely slid up and into your hair that was tightly bound at the nape of your neck.

His fingers slithered through your strands to hook a finger around the scrunchy that kept your hair pulled back and tidy to slip it out of place freeing your curls so that they were in their natural state haphazardly atop your head.

Opening your mouth wider, you hummed around his girth, reveling in the feel of the soft skin skimming along your tongue. You groaned appreciatively under your breath at the taste of him clean with just a hint of salt. You dare to say that it was the taste of him was even delectable.

By now his hand had woven itself in the roots of your hair, languidly guiding your mouth up and down his length the tip of him nudging at the back of your throat.

The movements were slow and more or less on the gentler side but you must have been doing something right so far. Keeping your jaw slotted and agape your tongue slipped along the underside of his shaft before disappearing back into your mouth so that you could attempt to draw him deeper inside.

The hushed groans coming from overhead were causing a rush of serotonin to flood your veins, every single nerve ending on your body was now standing on end. You never really “enjoyed” giving head, but it was something that was done out of necessity vs your own pleasure.

But baby… the way Ran was moaning. His voice strained, breaths coming out in short pants, was bringing about a dense almost unbearable pulsing between your thighs.

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” Moaning needily around his length, your fingers continued the diligent massage around the base of his thick cock before releasing him to pull free his balls that were still tucked away into the silk of his boxers.

You wanted him so bad. The praising, his fingers tucked away into your hair scratching lightly at your scalp, all of it was setting your body on fire. It felt as if you were melting from the inside out.

Those thighs of his became taut underneath your elbows and the all-time indicator that he was close to finishing. Things were getting sloppy, one of your hands slipping effortlessly along his shaft, while the other hand enthusiastically massaged his balls.

Holding your tongue flat along the underside of his cock you took him further into your mouth gagging at the mildly painful intrusion that bumped past your uvula. You were going to make him cum, that was your goal. You wanted to taste him, suck the soul out of him, so he would never look at you the same way again.

You were surprised when the hand in your hand tightened, and he pulled you off his dick with a loud pop. Startled, you met his heated gaze, breathing heavily through your parted lips. What kind of man didn’t want to finish from a blowjob? You were baffled.

Swallowing the wad of spit that had been sitting on your tongue, you eyed him in confusion as he merely leered down at you still positioned between his legs.

“D-don’t you want to cum in my mouth?” You meant to ask that question internally, perhaps it was the heat of the moment that had given you the courage to ask so blatantly out loud.

Ran merely grunted, a faint chuckle falling from his lips. Mewling breathily, your legs began to quiver at the sultry grin he was wearing. The distance between you was vanishing and before he provided you with any kind of answer, he was angling your head back so that he could snake his tongue into the warmth of your mouth.

His hand slipped from your hair down to your nape to press your lips against his in a very greedy manner while his tongue fought yours for dominance in the sloppy kiss.

When he pulled away from you, you were out of breath, and your eyes although hazy were drawn to the thick string of saliva that snapped once he was hovering over you again.

“You want something to swallow that bad?” his voice was husky, eyes half-mast and seemingly holographic and glowing in the dim lighting of the living room.

A few quiet seconds ticked by without an audible response from you and that only prompted Ran to squeeze at your cheeks with his free hand so hard, that your lips had begun to pucker. That at least got a slight groan out of you, your eyes beginning to water further.

“Open your mouth,” Ran all but growled, releasing your face so that you could comply.

Slowly parting your lips you did as he said whilst his other hand was still slapped firmly around the nape of your neck. Your heart hammered against your chest, the almost unbearable heat of the tension between both you and Ran nearly smothering you.

You were mildly disgusted at what he was demanding from you and you already knew what was coming next, but you did it anyway, a feeble whimper crawling up your throat as you did.

Forcing your tongue out flat at wide, you curved the wet muscle awaiting what he had planned to give you. This man was a menace to your sanity, for whatever reason you just could not tell him no.

Whatever he was going to do to you, you were open and willingly going to accept it. You watched him feverishly, the way he leaned over you further to part his lips.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His tongue inching out of his mouth to the thick dollop of spit that landed flat on the pallet of your tongue. It startled you initially and Ran’s heated gaze boring into your eyes was telling you to swallow it, without even having to say so.

With a shaky breath, you did just that your tongue drawing itself back into its place before forcing this glob of spit down your throat. You were fucking down bad, you had to be. But it wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be, it tasted of him with the lingering traces of liquor that he had been drinking earlier.

“Good girl,” he praised you, lips pulling back into a handsome grin before he fell back into place leaning back against the sofa. One of his hands fisted his cock, dexterous digits massaging lightly over the damp bulbous head. “Take that gown off for me,”

Your shoulders sank in relief upon hearing those words, that he seemed to be pleased with you. Pushing up on your knees, you stood so that you were still slotted between his thighs.

Pushing the thin straps of your evening gown off your shoulders, you maintained eye contact with Ran, giving the fingers wrapped around his cock the occasional glance. The dress went down over your bosom, exposing your tits, and then down over your hips pooling on the floor and leaving you standing in only a black lace thong.

Even though Ran had only seen you naked that one night the two of you were way past the point of being embarrassed. You let him spit in your mouth for Christ’s sake.

“Come here,” his free hand curled into the elastic band of your underwear with the intent to draw you more near and you followed the motion, sinking a knee into the cushion of the couch between his thighs.

Impatiently, your hands went to unfastening the buttons on his shirt in a desperate attempt to strip him down. Compared to you, he was fully dressed, and you wanted to feel him against you in any way possible.

You got his blouse undone; the dark silhouette of black ink artfully etched into his chest catching your eyes. It was massive, much larger than you had originally anticipated, and it only covered one-half of his chest. You weren’t afforded the opportunity to study the intricate design for more than a second or two before the feel of Ran’s fingertips ghosting themselves over your cloth-covered pussy brought you out of your own thoughts.

Sucking in a sharp breath, your legs nearly buckled while you leaned over him until you clasped onto his shoulders for some additional support.

“W-what do these tattoos mean?” you asked, the words were vacant, though you did have a slight interest.

Ran’s fingers slipped into the crotch of your underwear, the pads of his fingers streaking the wetness of the arousal between your lower lips along your slit. He groaned, sinking one and then another finger into your slick.

“Another time,” he panted hoarsely, fingers stroking slow and deep inside of you, eliciting the desperate and needy noises you were making for him.

“A-ah,” you mewled at the welcome friction, rolling your hips into the rhythm of his fingers. Your lips found his once more while he continued to stroke his long slender digits in and out of you.

Compared to yours they were longer, thicker, and reached a lot further, and deeper than yours did. The sound of him moaning into your mouth only made you wetter, your cunt clasping tightly around his fingers.

The friction, the semblance of you being fucked silly was nice, but you wanted to feel him inside. The way he was drawing this out was driving you mad.

Breaking away from his mouth, you whined above him, eyes deliberately leering down into his own.

“W-want your cock,” you sank down further onto his fingertips in an attempt to push them deeper, and Ran only hummed against your breast taking a perky nipple between his teeth.

“Now, now, I know for a fact that earlier tonight you were set on not fucking me, what’s changed?” the hand wrapped around his length migrated to your other breast, pinching the lonely nipple.

You tossed your head back at the sharp pain, still managing to thrust your hips against his hand enthusiastically.

“Mr. Haitani,” you cooed, the coil in your belly being pulled taut. “Please don’t make me beg,”

You could hear him click his tongue in disapproval a hearty chuckle following after. He knew what he was doing. He was drawing this out for as long as possible. The more he toyed with you, the more distraught you became.

The next step came sooner than later, he had stripped himself down into nothing before alternating your positions. You took his direction eagerly until he finally pushed into your gushing cunt, splitting you open from behind.

He felt bigger from this angle, an almost searing line of heat shooting up into your insides as he bottomed out inside you. He takes on a slow, almost agonizing rhythm his fingers grasping tightly at the fat of your hips. His hold is almost bruising fingertips dimpling the flesh as his hips met the fat of your ass over and over again.

You were breathless, babbling out incoherent whines as he rutted into you the occasional slap to your ass causing you to sing out in frustration from the pain.

“We are going to have to do this more often,” Ran breathed, leaning over you, his abdomen flexing while pressing into your back. “I know I let you do all the work last time, but it’s nice to see your pretty face reduced to a whimpering mess,”

#conflict of interest part 2 #tokyo revengers smut #ran haitani x fem reader #ran haitani smut #ex-lawyer reader?

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sonsofichor · 1 year ago

Text

The Mark of Wolves - Red Rising fic

Synopsis

All my people sing of are memories. And so I will remember this death. It will burden me as it does not burden my fellow students—I must not let that change. I must not become like them. I’ll remember that every sin, every death, every sacrifice, is for freedom.

But Darrow forgets. He forgets everything. Red, Gold, the mines, the Sons of Ares, his mission, his family, his purpose, his dreams, his past. Eo. So what does Darrow become?

Drabble I: Darrow

He tells me his name is Cassius. Cassius au Bellona.

“Cassius,” I repeat, hoping that at least the taste of his name would bring me some familiarity. It doesn’t.

“Do you remember me?”

I study him—his golden curls, his shining eyes, the cleft in his chin. He’s a boy on the cusp of adulthood, a young man of infinite beauty. He’s not someone you can easily forget. And yet, the sight of him sparks nothing. “Should I?”

He flinches. I didn’t mean to hurt him. You shouldn’t hurt young, beautiful things. He waves away my hesitant apology and calls me Darrow. Darrow au Andromedus. It leaves me indifferent.

I sit cross-legged with my back against the wall. Cassius mirrors my position across from me, and next to him is a slight long-haired boy who’s kept silent until now. He leans forward. “I’m Roque au Fabii,” he says and when that, too, gets nothing from my side, he asks, “What about your family? Your parents? Your home?”

I frown in concentration.

Cassius perks up. “You’re from Yorkton. Your mother’s name was Lexus, I believe.”

I shrug.

"And your father... Your father's name, I mean..." Trailing off, he turns to Roque for help, but all Roque does is shake his head. It’s clear none here knows me all that well.

Roque sighs, “It seems you’ve lost your memories.”

I feel lost.

I woke up surrounded by forgotten faces and with no idea who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Questions tumble through my brain, the next one louder than the one before.

They try to explain the situation succinctly.

It’s our third day at the Institute on Mars,

So, I’m trapped in the savage wilderness, where society has been reduced to young Golds giving in to their primal instincts, and I don't even know what Gold is supposed to mean.

“I do wonder sometimes,” Roque begins after Cassius has recovered, “as to the purpose of all this. How can this be the most efficient method of testing our merit, of making us into beings who can rule the Society?”

“And do you ever come to a conclusion?” Cassius asks.

“They have us here because this valley was humanity before Gold ruled. Fractured. Disunited even in our very own tribe. They want us to go through the process that our forefathers went through. Step by step, this game will evolve to teach us new lessons. Hierarchies within the game will develop. We’ll have Reds, Golds, Coppers.”

“Pinks?” Cassius asks hopefully.

“I … don’t know about Pinks,” Roque says. The idea of a Gold being a Pink offends him. I don’t know enough to form an opinion. “But … the rest is simple. This is a microcosm of the Solar System.”

Roque notices my blank look. “Darrow… do you know what the Society is? The colors?”

I shake my head. “What’s a Pink?”

Roque snorts.

Cassius buries his face in his hands.

…

Roque is finishing his summary of the Red class when he’s interrupted by two pairs of voices and pounding feet. The girls have returned.

“Has he woken up?” is the first question the shorter girl asks as she steps through the doorway.

The lean, long-limbed girl that follows closely behind her, whistles. “Wow, that looks gorydamn nasty!”

She means the wound on the side of my head—a horizontal, freshly stitched and swollen scar. Nine stitches. Cassius is in the middle of cleaning it with salt water.

I stare at them, suddenly conscious of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but my underwear under the light blanket. Cassius said they’d washed them and hung them to dry in the sun outside.

"What?" asks the lean girl.

"What?" I say.

"What?" she repeats.

Cassius lifts his eyes to heaven. "Great ancestors, spare me."

"He doesn't remember you, Quinn. Or anyone, for that matter." Roque clears his throat. “We believe he suffers from amnesia.”

“Believe?” Cassius gives a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t recall his mother from Jove. It’s a fact, my goodman.”

Quinn gapes. "Nothing?"

"Not a gorydamn truth," Cassius says. I admire how his hands stay steady and gentle despite his heated tone. "We just had to explain to him what the Society is."

Quinn gapes some more.

The short-haired girl brings me a cup of water. “Little sips,” she advises, smiling kindly. She introduces herself as Lea.

“We were deciding who was right to lead us. The discussion quickly devolved into . Titus waited until we had our backs turned.” He nearly growls. “The coward.”

“What happened exactly,” I ask him, “Cassius?” But he remains tight-lipped, the anger obvious in the way he works his jaw. He finishes putting the bandages in place, squeezes the back of my neck and leaves the room.

We stare after him.

“Did I do something?”

Lea shakes her head. “You should eat your berries, Darrow. You need the energy.”

After some hesitation, I fall upon them. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

Quinn takes over. “We were leaving. Titus grabbed the standard and attacked. Caught you—” she points at my temple, the wet spot underneath the bandages, “Right there.”

“I saw it all happen. Titus was aiming for Cassius,” sweet-featured Lea adds, “You saved him, Darrow. You pushed him out of the way, left yourself open. That’s how Titus got you.” She shivers. “Your blood splattered all over us. It was everywhere. We thought you’d died.”

“It was chaos,” Quinn agrees, her gaze faraway. “We fought like hell. Cassius threw himself at Titus with a roar. I grabbed a chair and started swinging at anyone who came close. Got Vixu-something in the chest. He was down for the count after that. Lea did the maddest thing. She hit and bit Titus’s hand until he dropped the banner.” She laughs when Lea blushes. “By then, you’d recovered enough for us to retreat. Roque knew a shortcut through the empty stables. Cassius’d left Titus’s face a gory mess and we covered our retreat.”

“I can’t believe I forgot the standard,” Lea groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“At least you remembered to grab us some grub instead. I carried that chair out of the gorydamn castle!”

They devolve into giggles.

Roque finishes quietly. “You passed out after a mile. Cassius carried you the rest of the way here. You were unconscious for twenty-seven hours. The rest is history.”

It’s strange how that sentence is true, especially for me. My history boils down to the past hours spent in their company. Anything before that is an empty void.

Cassius walks back in and throws a pile of damp black and gold fatigues on my lap. He seems in an even worse mood than before, although none of his ire is directed at us. “Darrow, get ready, my goodman. Proctor Mars wants a word with you.”

#red rising fic #red rising fanfic #darrow au andromedus #cassius au bellona #lea #roque au fabii #quinn #also known as Cassius's no good very bad time #lea becomes a momma bear #roque is the philosophical nurse #quinn for little sister of the year #darrow's just lost and confused and everyone finds him adorable #red rising #drabble fic #until i've written enough to put them into decent-sized chapters

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labelleizzy · 2 months ago

Text

Morrigan Visits Hobby Lobby

That morning, they should

have paid attention to the woman

washing blood off the Lexus

in the parking lot.

The doors bang open to the conference room

with a gesture from Her long thin fingers

and walks inside with a wild wind

snatching at papers, swirling the toupees

but somehow not ruffling

a single feather of Her

long cloak of ravenblack.

"Did you think" She says

"that I would not know what you are doing?"

They all see stars; these godly men and women

for a moment, so bright and burning

their eyes water and

they find themselves in

the ribbon aisle.

She shakes one marble arm from the cloak

sweeps sideways with Her hand

a thousand cawing crows fill the air

the ribbons start slithering

and entwine their feet

with the fear of a teenage girl

caught between

the baby and the coat hanger

"Did you think I would not know what you are doing to

My daughters and sons?" She says

a rain of pink and yellow kitty buttons ping off their heads

each stinging pain

a mother struggling to feed two children

afraid a third

will starve them all

"My daughters and sons and mothers and fathers

and nieces and nephews will not forget" says She

zebrastriped ottomans slam into them

with the blows to the gut

of endometriosis gone out of control

the bleeding endlessly into anemia

dizziness dropping them to their knees

cramps as if their guts are being drawn

and wrapped around trees

"Sons of the hounds, She cries,

COME HERE AND GET MEAT!"

Finn MaCool and Herne sweep in at the head

of caroling, slavering gabrielhounds

and the wind's roaring is so loud they think

their ears will explode and the crashing

of painted crystal and flower vases is

the continous roar of the ocean

they are cut with a thousand tiny shards of glass

their faces all scratches and tiny tears of blood streaming

puking up with fear

like 8 hours after Plan B

feet anchored to the floor with

layer after layer of Disney stickers

and terror of the Phantom Queen

"My children choose," says She.

"Not you. Not in My name

not in My dominion"

not for My daughters and sons and mothers and fathers and lovers

not for My children and My non-children

they are Mine and you shall not interfere in My name

the battles they fight are Ours and sacred

no matter what they decide, My children are blessed"

they can hear Her voice like dreadful bells

clear right through the hurricane

up under the suspended ceiling

the tiles rippling like an earthquake

dust and glitter swirling through the air

so thick the light is gray

She sweeps back Her cloak

both hands palms down

there is a silence that rings as loud as Her voice

the hounds and the heroes file neatly out the

automatic doors that crunch across

the broken glass

The Battle Crow eyes the board members

one by one with bright black eyes

stripping them down

to their profits and loss

their knees shaking

like they had worked eighteen hours

on an assembly line making wreaths and bows

for a dollar a day

"Do not invoke god in your decisions for your fellow folk," She says

"until you know Who will answer."

--Kate Holly-Clark, 2014

#morrigan #hobby lobby #wrath and vengeance #lessons learned #pagan poetry

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anime-kia · 2 years ago

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Lust and Temptation

I know I said that I was on my writing hiatus, but a wave of inspiration hit me. I was in my room jamming to some Kirk Franklin when the idea came to me. Yes you can turn up to gospel, don't @ me.

This is going to be a religious fanfic (with a bit of blasphemy), if you're not Christian and/or don't believe in God you can still read this story, BUT! Do not leave any comments that would be disrespectful to my beliefs. If you do leave anything disrespectful: Delete and mute :) You are not obligated to read this story, it's your choice.

And also I'm gonna dive a little more further, beyond what is openly taught. The worldly doctrine as it is called because I'm sure Erik would be that type of guy.

~ Post Black Panther ~

Warnings: Smut (takes a while for it to happen btw), Angst (a bit), A tad of deep stuff (religion wise)

Relationship: Erik x Christian Reader

Sunday morning, you dreaded it as a child, but now it was a lot more tolerable. It was the same thing every week; wake up at ten, use the bathroom, shower, brush your teeth, eat breakfast, get dressed into your Sunday best and head out to church to catch the twelve o'clock service.

As a child your routine was fairly the same, except you had to wake up much earlier and attend all three services. Why? Because you're the pastors daughter. The only thing you genuinely enjoyed about church was the singing. You always had the ability to sing, but you were too young to join the choir. You loved the Lord with all your heart too, but you hated sitting down for hours listening to your father preach. He had a nice voice, but you could only listen to the same thing for so long.

The memories of your mother scolding you for fidgeting too much or asking to leave early made a smile grace your face as you drove down the relatively and empty highway.

It was warm out, and knowing that, the A/C would be blasting so you decided to wear a long sleeve cream coloured blouse that was tucked inside of a long black body con maxi skirt (appropriate enough for church) and black stilettos. You paired the outfit with gold accessories and light makeup.

One of the perks of being the pastors daughter included getting close parking, and you always took your spot on the right side of your father's white Lexus RX. Locking your car door, you made your way to the front doors being held by two young boys that you teach after the singing is completed.

"Good afternoon, Miss (Y/N)." They both said in unison.

"Good afternoon boys, how was your vacation?" They were away for two weeks, you remember how happy they were when they told you they'd be traveling out of the country for the first time.

"So fun!" The shorter one missing his two front teeth, Anthony, enthused.

"Yeah, we got to swim in the ocean!" Jacob matched his brother's excitement.

"Oh really? That's so cool!"

You allowed them to chat your ears off about their vacation to the Bahamas while they continued to hold the doors. Anthony was about to tell you about the shark he saw until your mother spotted you.

"Hey, baby. How are you?" The familiar scent of Estée Lauder whiffed through your nose as she pulled you into a hug.

"Hi Mom, I'm good." You waved to the boys as you walked with her towards the nave, "How's dad?" You greeted the church brothers and sisters who were setting up the equipment and rehearsing before the service started.

"The same, of course." She rolled her eyes and you chuckled.

"There's my star! Come here." Your father came down the stage and gave you a bear hug.

"Hey, Dad." Your voice was muffled into his shoulder. You took the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his shiny forehead. "You're sweating." You said and placed it back into the pocket.

"It's a great service. Speaking of which, why did you stop coming to all three? We could really use your voice for all of em. Sister Eva is great, but you know how to get the crowd going."

You thanked him, and avoided answering the question truthfully.

"(Y/n), let's get you set up." One of the technicians pulled you to the stage and gave you your usual equipment for singing.

There were about ten minutes before the service was going to start so you quickly rehersed with the band and before you knew it people started filling into the space. Familiar members of the church gathered in, sliding into the seats and making room for others. You spotted a few of your church friends and gave them a little wave.

They would often tease you for being a good girl. The pastor's daughter usually got a bad rep. Them being the ones to do it all; sex, drugs, smoking, tattoos, etc. But you never found the need to do any of that. The only "rebellious" thing you've done was get your nose pierced. Your dad hated it (and he still does), but your mother was a lot more lenient.

"Good afternoon everyone." You greeted the congregation with a smile, and they replied with a drowsy response. "I said good afternoon, everyone!" You had more enthusiasm in your voice this time, and they also did. "Much better. Now has God been good to you?"

"Yes!"

"And has he provided for you? Loved you unconditionally?"

"Yes!"

"He is great, ain't He?"

"Amen!" Cheers and applauds sounded the room.

"Yes, amen. Now I wanted to start off with an upbeat song. Let's get everyone up on your feet and clap your hands like this."

The congregation stood to their feet and followed your pace of claps. The band started playing their version of Kirk Franklin's, Looking For You. You allowed them to play the intro and then you and the choir joined in.

I've been down so long

I've been hurt for so long

There were times I thought I'd never see the break of day

It was hard for me to see your plan for me

And I tried to believe surely it won't last always

You enjoyed seeing everyone getting in tune with their souls through the music, parents were dancing with babies and children on their hips, little kids were jumping up and down. This was the best song to get everyone moving and ready to celebrate their love for the Lord. It almost caught you off guard when you noticed someone was still seated, it was hard to see him clearly because he was in the far back, but you knew that this was his first time coming to this church. He had a very distinct look, dreads, and a large frame. You thought maybe he was just one of those people who stopped by to hear a few words then leave, but he was dressed in his Sunday best, just like everyone else. He also looked like he had full intentions to stay.

You continued to sing your heart out, hyping the crowd up with reminders of why God is so good, and them replying amen. You danced and let the music flow through your body. Yup, this was the best thing about church.

Your voice was warm and welcoming, your energy was refreshing, your beauty was tranquilizing to him and he wanted to get to know you. He had the right intentions coming into the building, but seeing you lit a spark in him that he tried to suppress.

The song came to an end, and he hadn't realized. The thunders of applauds and praises pulled him out of his trance, and he soon joined in.

"Amen. You know what my favourite part about church is? The singing, not only because God blessed me with this voice, but because it touches my soul. Psalms 95:1 says 'Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation'."

"Amen!"

"Glory be to God, and we lift our hands to you. We sing our praises to you! Every praise, is to you oh Lord." That was the cue for the band to get into the next song, Every Praise. You once again set the tempo for the sways and the congregation followed.

Every praise is to our God

Every word of worship with one accord

Every praise every praise is to our God

Sing hallelujah to our God

Glory hallelujah is due our God

Every praise every praise is to our God

He decided to sit still, but tapped his feet to the beat of the song, his hands folded in his lap. He was so enamoured by you, that he hadn't noticed when a little girl rested her hands onto his knee. He looked down at the brown skinned baby, no older than two he assumed. She had two little puffs secured with bow clips, and a pink and white dress with matching shoes. She pushed herself off of his knee and smiled at him, her little hand waving to him. He smiled at her until she was pulled away.

"Sorry about that." A younger looking lady said, "My baby likes to meet everyone." She was a beautiful lady with dark skin, coily tresses fixed into a puff and pearly white teeth.

"No problem." He simply replied with the same smile he gave the little girl.

When she returned to her spot, which was only a seat away from him, he noticed that she wasn't with a man. He predicted that she was a young single mother, and he could tell she was somewhat stressed out. His training gave him the ability to read people with ease, and his past self had a knack for "fixing" stressed out women. He was so close to getting out of his seat and reverting back to his old ways, but that was why he was here in the first place so he decided to stay seated and listen to your voice.

"I have another verse for y'all. Ephesians 5:19, 'Speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord'." You recited. "I have one more song before I let my father take over. This one always gets me emotional." The band once again started up with a softer melody. "Everyone just lift your hearts and voices as you sing with me."

The graceful rhythm of Healer flowed through the room and everyone calmed down, getting in tune with themselves and their saviour, you included.

You hold my every moment

You calm my raging seas

You walk with me through fireand heal all my disease

You closed your eyes while singing, swaying to the beat. The choir handled majority of the song while you let it resonate in your heart. You could feel tears welling into your eyes.

Nothing is impossible for You

Nothing is impossible

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands

He could feel the depth in your voice, the emotion wrapped around him, he was almost driven to tears. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so dedicated, so pure and loving. Your voice was more than enough proof for him. He was a sinner and he knew he would corrupt you, but you were like a lure, pulling him in.

"Amen!" Your voice called out, as the song came to a close. He was surprised that your voice sounded so normal, not a crack present. Had you not said anything, anyone would've been convinced that you were crying, but your voice had masked that very well. "Thank you everyone, thank you." Applauds filled the room, he was surprised to find himself clapping as well. You walked off the stage, your father giving you another hug just before you got to your seat.

"Amen indeed," He began. "My daughter everyone!" He clapped and the congregation joined in again. You smiled as your mother kissed your temple, stating how beautiful you sounded. It always felt good, not the applauds and recognition from everyone, but being able to use your talent to praise God and to be able to allow people to do the same whether they could sing or not.

Today's lesson was about forgiveness and acceptance.

"Now I want y'all to think. And think real good." Your father eyed the crowd, "Are y'all holding a grudge against someone?"

Some folks shook their heads, others remained silent. He was one of them who remained silent.

"Why? Maybe they've wronged you, hurt you, lied on you, stole from you. But you know what, you know who doesn't hold a grudge... The Father. In fact, He loves you all so much that He sent His only son to die on the cross for all of our sins. Imagine that."

He listened carefully to the pastors words, taking in everything like a sponge. You on the other hand had this speech given to you a thousand times, you could probably teach this lesson if you wanted to. Holding grudges was not natural to you, so you never did. You always forgave and forgot, no matter the circumstance.

Usually you were sent off to teach the younger kids their own lesson, but another one of the members allowed you to take this Sunday off and took your place instead.

The lesson continued for an hour and church had finally started coming to it's end.

"I would like to close this off with a prayer before you all leave. Anyone who needs a special prayer is more than welcome to stay behind. Please join your hands together as we say this prayer."

He was hesitant to hold hands with any stranger, but an old lady (with a surprisingly strong grip) to his left and the single mother to his right held his hands and already had their heads bowed. He followed suit and listened to the prayer that the pastor had recited.

"I pray you all have a blessed week, and we'll see you again next Sunday."

You were required to stay behind, not that you minded, but you were apart of the church crew. Leaving so soon would seem inappropriate.

A few people made their way down to the front to receive an extra prayer, he was going to leave, but he saw you standing off to the side waiting for anyone to come by.

Of course he wasn't nervous to greet you, women were so easy when it came to him.

"Bye, Sister Mary. See you next Sunday." You waved to the older lady as she made her way out, smiling at him as he made his way over to you.

He stood in front of you, towering over you.

"Hello." You greeted him. This was the same man you saw seated when you first opened the service.

"Hey." He replied with a smirk.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Erik."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you. I don't think I've ever seen you in this church before."

"Nah, I'm new. It's actually my first day here."

"Oh lovely, so I guess you're going to be joining us from now on?"

He was very hesitant to reply and you had already figured out he was one of the lost as our father would describe them. People trying to find God again after hardship. He did look quite rough on the edges, handsome though.

"That's alright, but I do hope you consider. Now what type of blessings are you in need of today?"

"I'm looking for peace." His voice was very gentle as he explained.

You held your hands out to Erik, "Aren't we all." You smiled at him as he placed his calloused hands into yours. This alone told you he's been through more than you could ever imagine. You began to pray for him, asking God to bring peace and security to his heart.

Like your singing, there was so much passion and sincerity in every word you spoke. He found it strange that someone he'd never met before could actually lend out their time to wish him all the best through the form of prayer. It was odd, the feeling in his heart was warm. Not something he was use to.

"Erik?" He was staring so deeply at you, it was like he was in a trance. "Erik?" You called again.

He hadn't realized when you stopped praying, "Oh shi- I mean shoot. Sorry." He let go of your hands as he apologized.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, "It's all good."

He was at a loss for words, all he could say was, "Thanks for this."

"Of course, I'm here every Sunday. I hope to see you again."

"Yeah."

Next Sunday rolled around and you were a lot more excited this time. You really hoped that Erik would be there. On the highway you exceeded the speed limit just a little bit to get to church faster. You parked your car and got into the church, this time no one was holding the door as you were a lot earlier.

Everything followed suit as usual, you sing, your father preaches and closing prayer. You had spotted Erik while singing, this time he was standing up and clapping. It was a good start, he'd get to singing eventually.

This week he had asked you to pray for healing and restoration in his heart. Before leaving, you gave him a hug and you were quite surprised when your palm touched his back. You felt ridges, lot's of them. You wanted to ask him about them, but it would probably be rude. Maybe he had a skin condition.

The following Sunday was also the same, but this time he had asked you to pray for guidance. You knew he was lost, and you were more than happy to help. You didn't know, however, about the burden he was carrying, nor did you try to pry into that. After the prayer he thanked you.

Suddenly your mother and father came over to greet you both.

"Hey Mom, Dad. This is Erik."

"Lovely to meet you, Erik." Your mother shook his hand.

"Welcome to the church. You must be new." Your father also shook his hand.

"Yeah, it's his third time here." He nodded as you spoke for him.

"Glad to have a new member." He patted Erik on the shoulder. "(Y/n), are you coming over for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, I just gotta grab something at my place and I'll see you there."

"Alright, we're heading out now. Drive safe. Once again, nice to meet you Erik." Your parents waved to you both as they left the church.

You sighed, "I hate closing up this place, it's so eerie in the dark."

"For real?"

"Yup."

"The Lord's house?"

"Yes, Erik."

"How God suppose to give you bad vibes?"

"He doesn't, it's just my mind running rampant... Plus, this church is really old."

"Aight, I can stay and protect you just in case." He joked.

You rolled your eyes and agreed anyway. "I gotta do the basement first."

So he followed you down to where the bathrooms and meeting rooms were located.

"I guess I could give you a little t-" You turned around, but he wasn't there. "Erik?!" You called out. "Erik, come on this ain't funny." The light shut off and you were alone in the dark. You screamed when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You slapped the hand away and the lights came back on revealing a laughing Erik. "So. Not. Funny."

"I'm sorry." He continued to laugh.

Two months had passed and this Sunday followed the same, but when closing prayer rolled around Erik had prayed for a date.

"What do you mean a date?" You giggled at his request. "I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

"Exactly that, a date. With you."

You were taken aback by his statement, but then smiled. "What will this date consist of?"

"Anything you want."

One thing you learned about Erik with knowing so little about him was his bold and cocky demeanour.

"Alright... Hmm..." You thought of how you would play along with his request. "Oh Lord, I pray that Erik takes me somewhere nice, with good food and good music. I also pray that this may not turn out to be a bad experience, in your holy name, amen."

He loved to see your laugh, "So that's a yes?"

"Yes."

Your parents had left early again and you were subject to Erik's pranks and duty of closing up. After locking the church, he walked you to your car as you entered your number into his phone.

"So I'll pick you up on Friday at six?"

"Yeah, see you then Erik." He locked your door for you and strode off to his car as you drove away.

Erik was really hoping that he wouldn't screw anything up. You could be his redemption and he truly felt it. Sure he'd only known you for such a short time, but something about your presence felt so promising to him.

It was five p.m. and you just got out of the shower when you had called Erik.

"Ya know, you still haven't told me where you're taking me."

"Don't worry about it, ma."

"But I don't know what to wear."

"Just dress good."

You frowned at the general answer, "That could mean anything. I have good pyjamas, good gym clothes, good church clothes."

You could hear him sigh on the other line, "We're going on a date. Wear something sexy then."

You blushed at his comment, "Wha- Fine."

"Just don't take forever, aight."

"Okay, Erik see you soon."

"Later, princess."

Before you could ask him about his pet name for you, the line went dead.

Your black Persian cat, Minnie, hopped onto your bed and meowed at you. Her name was quite ironic because her fur gave her a large appearance.

"What's up, Minnie? You hungry?"

She rolled onto her back and meowed again.

"Alright, lemme just finish getting ready then I got you, okay." You rubbed her stomach, (luckily she doesn't mind that) and went into your closet looking for the perfect outfit.

Something sexy...

You never thought about dressing "sexy". You didn't have bad style, but you never wore anything to attract attention. Your outfits were mainly business casual or business dressy when you were out. At home, you settled for something comfy.

But remembered your sister taking you shopping when she set you up for all those blind dates. None of the men you met were intriguing in the slightest. They all had their quirks and nicks that were huge turn offs. You weren't stuck up, but you could not see yourself spending the next fifty years with them. Erik though, had something enticing about him. He made you curious.

You decided to go for blind date outfit number two. A high-low dress with a white polyester satin top and royal blue mesh bottoms, silver accessories, light makeup and white stilettos. You slipped into the dress, zipping it up and adjusted the bottom.

You thought about what food you were going to order as you filled up Minnie's food bowl with wet food, salmon to be exact, her favourite. If he was one of those cheap men, he'd take you to McDonalds. You were told to be grateful in any case, so you would order a combo. But maybe you were lucky enough to be going on a date with someone who has a decent bank account. Maybe he'd take you to a restaurant where you could order pasta or a fancy fish. Maybe a hibachi grill! Those were always a ton of fun to go to.

Though Erik and you have known each other for two months strictly because of church, you didn't know anything about him. Once again, he never failed to remind you of how mysterious he was. He could be a killer for all you know.

You stroked Minnie's back as she quickly ate her dinner.

"Maybe I could order the same thing Mom and Dad made me the last time I was over there." They had made grilled steak and potatoes, it was delicious. Your mother was actually a queen on the grill, and your father tagged in with the perfect seasonings. You always ate good with them. While you daydreamed about consuming their cooking, your father's words replayed through your head.

"I dunno, I feel like I've seen him before. Like he just seems so familiar."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure, the name... Also, when I touched his shoulder I felt these bumps, it reminded me of something, but I'm not so sure."

"Maybe it's a coincidence."

"Maybe..."

The raps against your door brought you out of your thoughts and you went over to go open it. There Erik stood in a black semi casual suit and black Louis Vuitton loafers.

"Hey, Princess."

"Hey, Erik." You gave him a hug getting a whiff of a cologne that was very subtle, but you already knew it was very expensive. You recall smelling it in a high end store at the mall.

"You smell good." He said. What he was smelling was your body mist from Victoria's Secret, you got it on sale for five dollars.

"Thanks, I should be saying the same to you."

"You look sexy too."

"Ah thanks." You stopped yourself knowing where he was going.

"What, you ain't gonna say the same to me?"

"I mean, I guess you look alright." You teased.

He kissed his teeth and shook his head and you laughed.

"Bye, Minnie. I'll be back later." You locked the door and latched arms with Erik as he guided you down the steps to his car. "Oh my gosh, this is your ride?" You exclaimed, charmed by the shiny black Corvette.

"One of." He plainly stated, opening the passengers side for you.

"One of?!"

"Hop in." He ignored your question for clarification. You got in and he locked the door, making his way around to the driver's side. He wasted no time taking off into the night. The sky was shaded with a warm orange colour as the sun began to sink below the Oakland skyline. His music was a lot lower than you had originally expected.

You could faintly hear the tune and lyrics, it was a Biggie Smalls song that you've heard throughout high school. You hummed to the beat of the song until it completely stopped.

"Hey, it was low enough." You frowned at Erik.

"Why don't you sing for me instead?" His focus was still on the road.

"Well, I usually like to have a beat playing."

"You don't do A Capella?"

"Only when I'm at home."

"So you ain't tryna sing a lil something for me?" He turned to look at now that he was at a stop light.

"Only if I can get a beat."

"I don't beat box."

You rolled your eyes, "I wasn't asking you to do it. Do you have an aux cord?"

He laughed, "Aux cord?"

"What's so funny about that?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Just connect it to my bluetooth."

"Oh alright, Mr. Fancy." You held your hands up in a surrender.

After setting it up, which was surprisingly really fast compared to your car, you chose to play another one of your favourite Kirk Franklin songs, I Smile.

Today's a new day, but there is no sunshine

Nothing but clouds, and it's dark in my heart

And it feels like a cold night

Today's a new day, but where are my blue skies

Where is the love and the joy that you promised me?

Not even a minute through the song and this man had turned the radio off.

"Erik!"

"You singing that gospel shit, it ain't even Sunday."

"I'm not a Sunday Christian, I practice it every day of my life."

He laughed, and began driving as the light changed to green. "You're the first."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, I always thought this religious thing was bullshit."

"Excuse m-"

"Hold on, let me explain." He held his hand up, "You even admitted it just now. Y'all go to church every Sunday, belting your hearts out and praising God. But as soon as it's over, people go back to their sinful ways. Whether it be cheating, lying, stealing, ya get what I'm saying?"

It's true, it has definitely crossed your mind on multiple occasions, and that's why you said what you said. "I do."

"What's the point if you're just gonna go back to being a sinful person?"

"I guess it just gives them some type of security." You didn't exactly know how to answer his question, and you've asked your father the same thing many times, but even he could not come up with the perfect explanation.

"Anyway, what else you got on your phone?"

"Mainly just gospel, it really gets me through the day."

"You was just humming to Biggie. I'm sure you got something other than gospel, let me see." He held his palm out for you to place your phone in it.

"You're driving, focus on the road."

"The light's gonna change, let me see it." He slowed to a stop.

"Fine." You placed the phone into his hands and scanned for songs other than gospel. His sudden laughter made you stare at him, "What's so funny?"

"Clean, clean, clean. All these songs got the little clean icon." He handed you your phone, "Aight, I'm firing you from DJ duty."

"Wooowwww." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest.

"I got you." He lifted his phone and scrolled through his list, you alerted him when the light turned green and he set his phone back down in the cup holder. "You got this one on ya phone."

T-Pain's, Bartender filled the car and you were a little surprised. You really thought he was gonna chose a song that was loaded with cursing and sexual innuendos. But you didn't have songs like that on your phone. Honestly, you lived for the early 2000s throwback songs and you felt your voice complimented T-Pain's as you sang along.

Erik handled the verses as you sand the pre-hook and the hook. The bass in his car was amazing, you felt as if you were at a live concert seated in front of the speakers. You continued to listen to his early 2000s playlist until he decided to change it up to more recent songs.

"Please don't play those new artists."

"Artists? They ain't artists, they fuckin' trash. Disgraceful to even call themselves rappers." He scoffed.

"I'm glad you agree, but do you have to swear?"

"Fuck yeah." He set his phone back down and a song you were unfamiliar with filled the car, "Neighbor, Juicy J and Travis Scott." He told you. You knew Travis, his songs were pretty good.

You were bopping to the music, ignoring the little "Shut the fuck up" at the beginning. Erik was vibing to the song as well, bopping his head and doing little dances with his hands. You were enjoying the song until the chorus came. He was looking at you the whole time with a smirk.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Your mouth was ajar, watching him recite every single word. He bursted out laughing at your shocked expression.

"Damn shorty, it ain't that serious." He turned the volume down, "You telling me you've never cussed?"

"No, never."

Your expressions changed, his mouth was now ajar this time. "Never?"

"Never."

"Say, sofa."

You stared at him suspiciously. "Sofa."

"Now say, king."

"King."

"Say it together real fast."

"Sofa k- Really?" You glared at him.

"I tried. Anyway, we're here." He hopped out and came around to the other side to get you.

"This place is beautiful, oh my gosh. I thought you needed to make reservations some months ahead to get in." You gawked at the super high ceiling with crystal chandeliers, the marble walls and floors, and the large gold fountain placed right in the centre. "How'd you do it?"

He simply shrugged.

"You're taking this very lightly. I mean, this is a lot for a first date."

"You don't like it?"

"No, no. I love it, it's just, a lot to take in and you're acting like this is normal."

"It is." He shrugged again.

"What?" You stared at him incredulously.

A waiter arrived at the table, placing a basket of bread and fancy cheese platter on the table.

"Good evening, can I start you both off with some drinks?"

"Lemme get your best bottle of Rosé. The whole thing."

Erik hadn't even looked at the menu and you were searching through it quickly. The waiter had already gone off and you didn't have a chance state that you only wanted a glass of water.

"I don't drink." You told Erik.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't care to."

"You never had a little sip?"

"Nope, never. Just like swearing. Never done it, never will."

"Say sofa-"

"Be quiet." You cut him off and he chuckled.

"Ya know, Jesus turned water into wine. John 2:1-11. The bible ain't against drinking."

"So?"

"So, he wasn't afraid to have fun. We talking about God's son. That man had serious responsibility, but he still did that. You need to loosen up, girl. I ain't asking you to get drunk."

You sighed, and the waiter had returned with a bottle of the Rosé. He poured you a glass and asked if you both needed some time to order, but Erik had already placed his order and yours.

"Wha- I don't even know what you just ordered."

"You'll like it, I promise."

Goes to show how often he comes here, maybe with other women too.

"So this is the part where you tell me about yourself." You began.

"Well shit, what do you wanna know?"

"Well first of all, what in the world do you do?"

"I work for a Wakandan outreach centre in Oakland. Helping our people do better with the fucked up system."

"Oh that's pretty cool, it pays well?"

"Well if you're trying to ask how I can afford everything I got, I also work beside the King of Wakanda. His advisor to be exact. So I get my money like that."

You stared at him puzzled, "Huh?"

He smirked, "I guess you can say I'm royalty. That dude I called King, he's my cousin."

You almost choked on the bread that you just took a bite out of, "WHAT?"

The white people turned around to look at the source of the sound, their noses scrunched up at your vulgar outburst as Erik laughed.

"You know Erik, lying lips are an abomination to the Lord. Proverbs 12:22."

"Who said I was lying?"

The waiter had come back with two steaming plates that were covered by a cloche. As he raised the silver metal covering, steam smoked out from the sides revealing two plates of alligot and garlic roasted chicken sliced into perfect pieces with truffles and caviar. You've heard of alligot once on a YouTube video, but you hadn't planned on trying it.

You both thanked him as he left you two to finish off your meal.

"So, what do you do?" He used the knife to cut the chicken breast into a smaller piece before putting it into his mouth.

"Well, I'm a full time social worker at a high school and part time singer and youth teacher on Sunday's. But you already knew that." You said while scooping the cheesy potato onto your fork.

"Maybe you could come talk to some of the kids at the centre. Teach em a bit."

"I could, but I'd have to find somewhere in my schedule to fit it."

"We're always open and willing to get more people on our team. Just let me know."

"For sure."

You both ate in relative silence, only because you were still staring at the rose coloured drink resting to the right side of your plate. Erik had already finished half of his glass. You told him, maybe you'd opt out because surely he can't drink and drive home, but he assured you his alcohol tolerance was very high. It was a little insipid how high it was a matter of fact.

"It won't kill you, just think of it as pink lemonade."

You narrowed your eyes as you brought the glass to your lips, allowing the liquid to enter your mouth.

"Swallow it."

And you did. It actually wasn't as bad as you expected it to be.

"See, how was that?"

"Not bad." You actually really enjoyed the taste.

The rest of your night consisted of questions and answers, jokes, serious debates on religion, politics and what the hell was going on within the black community, internally and externally. You had downed three glasses of the Rosé without noticing.

"So, would you date a white girl?" You asked him.

He didn't even spare a second to think, "Nah."

"Why not? Don't black men love them?"

"I mean, they aight. But I need someone who I can really connect with. Mentally, spiritually, emotionally and physically. No white girl can truly understand the struggle, I need me a lady to not only sympathize when I'm crying for one of my brothers murdered unjustly, but to feel exactly what I'm feeling."

"I say that too. Relating is super important in a relationship. There's no way I can be silent just because you don't want to hear about the things we deal with. I use to be friends with this white girl, back in 2016 when police brutality was at a high. She did not have a single care when I was speaking about it, she would find excuses for the police... She really tried to justify their actions. I was appalled."

Erik shook his head, "Damn. But that's to be expected. If it ain't affecting them, why should they give a fuck?" He rhetorically asked.

"I would then ask God, why. Why us? Why black people? Why do we carry the burden and the struggle."

Erik leaned in, intrigued by your question. "Did you find the answer?"

"It's all in the bible. A lot of people miss it, a lot. My father included and it's so sad."

Erik had already asked God the same question. He knew the answer.

"It's all right there, the verses, the scriptures. Everything. You should check out Romans 10:19."

Erik had already started siting the verse, "I will make you envious by those who are not a nation; I will make you angry by a nation that has no understanding." He shook his head, "When you know your true identity, you become unstoppable."

You stared at him in shock, "You know?"

"We're a lot alike, (y/n). Trust me, I've asked that question countless times." His grip on the neck of the glass was tight, "Not necessarily as a whole, but 'why me?' Why do I have to be the stereotype, why do I have to be the black parentless, foster-care kid, why couldn't I grow up like a normal child. Two parents, maybe some siblings. Hell, a dog too."

"What do you mean?"

"I lost both my parents at a young age, barely knew my mom. My dad was murdered by his own people..." You tried to look into his eyes, but they seemed so distant as he continued to explain the story.

"I'm so sorry, Erik."

"Nah, it's all good now. My life was shit, but like you sang back at church, that Kirk Franklin song."

"Looking for you?"

"Yeah, the beginning part."

"I'm glad my singing got to you." You smiled at him. You're not sure when it happened, but your hand had found his and your thumb rubbed over his knuckles. He lifted your hand up and pressed it against his lips.

"How you get drunk off of Rosé?" He shook his head with a judgemental look on his face.

"I'm not." You weren't totally drunk, just a bit.

The drive to his place was rather quick, you were already making it into his gated home. It was a little hard to make out what the place looked like in the dark, it was almost as if he made it incognito. Not a single light was on. As he unlocked the high tech door, a wave of cold air slapped your bare arms making you shiver.

"Why does it feel like Antartica in here?"

"It's just how I like it." He closed the door and put the lock back on.

"No way." You held your arms as you shivered, but he placed his very hot blazer over your shoulders. Okay, so now you understood why he kept his place so cold. The man generated heat like an oven. You were instantly warmed up.

"Lights on, main floor." He spoke to no one in particular, or so you thought until a robotic female voice recited his command and lights began turning on.

"Whoa, is this one of those smart homes?"

"Kinda. It just got vibranium and Wakandan technology."

"Seriously?"

"I did tell you the King is my cousin." He began walking into another room.

"Hold up!" You caught up to him.

You were now in his kitchen that connected to his living room. His style was very modern and sleek. It was so clean that not a single spot of dust was visible to the naked eye. He had many African artworks and artifacts around the room and a gigantic map of the world with little red pushpins located in different spots.

"Hey Erik?"

"Hmm?" He was taking a shot of something with a golden brown colour.

"What's up with this map?"

He swallowed the liquid and made his way over to you. "It's for every place I been."

"Cuz you were in the military right?"

"Yup."

Then the thought came to your head, "Hey, Erik?"

"Wassup?"

"Have you ever um..." Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, "Actually, never mind."

"Aight."

You sat down on his large sectional sofa and released your curls from your hair tie. It felt just as good as taking off your bra, but of course you couldn't do that at the moment. Then another thought came to you, but Erik had already seated himself beside you with a bottle of Hennessy in his hands, placing it down on the glass table.

"More alcohol?" You've heard about Hennessy before, but you knew nothing about it.

"Yeah." He simply stated and turned on the TV.

"Can I get some?"

He looked at you funny, "Of what? That?" He pointed to the bottle.

"Yes."

"So you a drinker now?"

"It won't kill me." You restated what he said.

"Aight, look for a movie." He got up from the couch and went back into his kitchen to get you a glass.

You scrolled through the vast selection, you weren't sure what to watch. Anything but horror, you didn't want to invite anymore demons into the world. He came back before you could find anything.

"Just pick one." He said while filling your glass.

"There's too many to choose from. Why don't you do it?"

"Cuz, you're the guest and you won't like what I pick."

"How do you know what I like and don't like?"

"I got a pretty good understanding, ma. Now choose one."

You sighed and settled for one that looked decent, appropriate too. You took a sip of the drink, your face scowling at the taste. "Oh my- You like this?"

"Mhm." He responded while taking a few more shots. You sucked it up and drank the rest, you didn't want to waste his booze anyway.

By the thirty minute mark of the movie, your head found its way onto Erik's lap. The drink had sucker punched you, but you tried play it off. Erik was still unfazed, barely watching the movie. His attention was mainly on his phone.

A new sensation sparked your lower half, something you've briefly felt before, but suppressed it knowing exactly what it was. This time though, it came in all at once with a full force. It was an itch that needed to go away.

You've heard about alcohol being an aphrodisiac before... Uh oh.

You compressed your thighs together relieving it for a few seconds, but it felt as though it intensified and Erik noticed you shifting.

"You good?" He asked. His voice was so soft and enticing, calling you forward. You raised your head out of his lap and straddled him. "Whoa..."

"Erik..." Your voice came out very relaxed.

"Aye, you go-"

Your lips found their way onto his, stunning both of you in the process. You were kissing him so deeply without the intent of letting go. It was a sloppy kiss, truthfully, as you've never kissed another man before.

You had him on his back as you began undressing yourself down to only your matching pair of bra and panties.

"Baby girl, whatchu doing?"

"I'm tired of being the good girl, Erik. It's so boring." You whined to him.

Erik felt his dick twitch at the lust in your voice and eyes, he could feel his old self coming back quickly. He should've known better than to be drinking, but it was a rough week.

You leaned in and met him with another kiss, this time he was the dominant one. You helped him out of his button up, your hands now coming in contact with the bumps that you felt back at church. Had you not been so wasted, you would've reacted, but that was the last thing on your mind.

He was out of his pants before you knew it, and you were on your back. He kissed down your neck, making sure to leave love bites on you. He trailed all the way to your stomach, right down to the band of your blue lace panties. His fingers slid under the band yanking them further down till they were off completely.

"Damn, ma." He ran his finger up and down your wet folds before inserting it.

"Uhh." You moaned at the intrusion.

His tongue soon found it's way onto your clit as well. You moaned and thrashed as he continued to assault your womanhood. He made sure to hold you down as he ate you out. He was an expert, despite this being your first time, you could tell he was really skilled. He lifted your leg over his shoulder and stuck another finger into you. You hands found their way into his dreads and you gripped tightly, he hissed at your action.

"Ohhhh." You moaned aloud.

"You like this, mama?"

"Nngh, yes!"

The feeling in your core intensified until you could no longer hold it and you released without warning, a plethora of moans falling from your lips.

"Damn baby, you ain't warn me."

"Mmh, I'm sorry."

"Nah," He sat up. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it."

He pulled off his boxers and climbed over top of your shaking frame. He took the tip of the penis and rubbed it along the outside of you, coating it in your wetness. You shivered at his touch.

He had one hand by your ear and the other on his member, guiding it into you. The stretch was unbelievable, your hands gripped his arms tightly.

"Fuck, this pussy so tight."

"Oh, unnghh."

"That's it, just a little more." He continued to slide into you, and you tried your best to ignore any pain you were feeling, but that was almost impossible. His gold chain that you hadn't noticed before dangled over your head, it had a ring attached to it.

He thrusted into you, not checking if you were alright. All you could feel was pain and little spurts of pleasure here and there.

"Mmh, oh. I-it's too much!" You groaned.

"I know you can take it, come on girl."

He was definitely curing your itch, but that same feeling was welling into your core once again. You placed your hand on the lower half of his abdomen and begged for him not to go any deeper.

"Mhh-mmh. That's it, that's it." You continuously chanted as he continued thrusting.

He pulled out and had you go on all fours, you were a shaking mess. He dived right back into you pumping at a steady pace.

You cried out his name. "Erik, ohhhh fffff-" It was so overstimulating that you almost cursed.

"Was that a bad word?" He spanked your ass.

"Ah! Noooo." You sighed.

"Come on, say it. I dare you."

"Mmh-mmh." You shook your head slightly.

He picked up the pace and your moans turned into screams as he brushed your cervix. Your toes curled tightly.

"Ahhhh, s-slow d-down unnghhh!" You could swear you were seeing stars as he hammered you into the sofa.

"Ahhh shit." He sped up even faster. Your high was at it's peak now.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, not even realizing it, but a string of curse words followed. You couldn't stop yourself as you released onto his cock with a scream.

He pulled out and released onto your back as you collapse, blanked out without a care in the world.

The next morning, you felt something warm and wet on your shoulder.

"Minnie, stop. That tickles." You pushed the culprit away, but your hand retracted as soon as you felt human skin and kinky hair. You shot up and stared down at him. Regret instantly clouded your heart, and nausea filled your stomach.

It wasn't a sinful dream... You had lost your virginity so a man you had barely known. Something you promised to keep to yourself until marriage.

"Get away from me." You pushed him away as tears streamed down your face. You scooted back so far and almost fell off of his king sized bed in the process.

"(Y/n), it's just me."

"N-no, oh my gosh. Please tell me I was dreaming?" You held your head in your palms. You knew it was real, seeing that you were wearing one of his shirts, your curls were a hot mess, and you woke up in his bed. Not to mention the ache in between your legs.

"You good, ma?"

"No, Erik! I'm not 'good'! I'm terrible."

"Did I go too hard?" He asked without shame.

"That's not the issue, Erik! We had sex, right?"

"Yeah, it was great."

You sighed, collapsing your head into your lap. "I'm a sinner. I can't- I-"

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Your tears rolled off your cheeks landing onto the bed sheets, "You took my virginity, Erik."

"Oh shit..."

"I was saving it. Sex before marriage... Why would I do that? Ugh!"

" We were both drunk. It's not that serious, (y/n)."

"Of course it is!" You snapped at him. "We barely even know each other... This is my first time seeing you outside of church."

He was silent as he watched your tears of regret fall.

"I gave in to one of the cardinal sins... God must be so disgusted with me." You sighed, "Hebrews 13:4, Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral."

"Hold up, you talking about lust, right?" He finally spoke up.

"Yeah." You answered with a sniffle.

"Ain't you the one who told me about forgiveness. Redemption. All that shit."

You looked at him a little puzzled.

"You really think you a bad person for fucking?" He took off his shirt, "You know what these bumps are? They each represent a kill."

Your eyes widened as your hand covered your mouth.

"Thou shalt not kill, one of the Ten Commandments. I disobeyed that one, each scar on my body reminding me. You know what's the sad thing about it, I don't regret any of them. I did what I had to do, that's the path I chose." He scoffed, "You worried about sex, I got blood on my hands, baby. Shit, I don't even know if I can be saved."

You had to register a lot, it was all so overwhelming. You had given in to temptation and had sex with a man you only knew so much about, not to mention he's a killer... But then it hit you.

"W-wait... Don't tell me that you're K-Killmoger..."

"Surprise." He said unenthusiastically, his eyes had glossed over at some point, but you missed it.

It felt as if the weight of the world came crashing down on your shoulders. You weren't sure if you should run away, leave or stay.

Surprisingly, you found yourself cradling his head in your lap. You both remained silent and let the moment register.

"John 1:9, If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." He said while your fingers ran against his scalp.

You decided not to sing this Sunday, as it would feel hypocritical to be teaching these people what it means to be a good Christian through songs. Throughout the service, you hadn't seen Erik. He was kind enough to drop you back at your place the night before, but he took off in a hurry.

"(Y/n), you're not praying for anyone today?" Your father asked as he waved a few sisters goodbye.

"Actually, I needed a prayer for myself. And also with Erik in mind."

"Sure, what about?"

"Forgiveness of sin and restoration."

The look he gave you was quizzical, "Alright."

As your father prayed, Erik watched from a distance. He could feel your father's words in his heart without actually hearing anything. He knew that he was no good for you. You were just a church girl doing the right thing, while he was still trying to figure it out.

He was your temptation and you were his.

Okay, so this has been my longest one-shot with 9000+. I hope you enjoyed!

(Start/Finish: November 7-8, 2018)

#killmonger fic #killmonger x reader #black reader

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