#the men will be talking about how these days women wearing jeans

[bamtorin]

excuse me men, how hard is it to not rape a woman?

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: you meet up with your favorite biker guy to backpack him for a day, and things get very heated very fast.

— CW: 18+ only! meeting up with a stranger (don’t do that), putting out for a stranger (oops, i’d fold if it were biker!rafe too), biker guy!rafe, semi public sex (it’s at the top of a parking deck thing😭😂), fingering, hair pulling, male receiving oral, unprotected sex, ass and pussy slapping (like once), lots of dirty talk and praise.

— a/n: ah fuck. my obsession with biker men got the best of me here. my wet fucking dream. likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

❥ ride — r.c

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I had been following him on Instagram and TikTok for months, and he lived in my town! So when I finally found the courage to send him a DM on Instagram joking about backpacking him for a day, I never in a million years imagined that he would actually respond — and say yes!

I’m finishing up the final touches of my makeup in front of my full length mirror that sits in the corner of my room when I hear my phone go off, letting me know I have a text.

Standing from the floor, I make my way to my nightstand and grab my phone. I open it to see that he has texted me.

Rafe: Hey! I’m out front whenever you’re ready.

I smile at the text and type out a quick response. Pocketing my phone, I rush to slip on my high top converse and grab my hoodie, tossing it over my head and rushing out of my bedroom and front door.

Making my way down the steps I come to a stop at the bottom, my breath catching in my throat when I see him leaned against the side of his bike. He looks deliciously good today. He wears a pair of tight, black jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. He pairs the outfit with a pair of white Nikes with a black Nike check in the middle of either side.

He doesn’t have his helmet on, and the sight of his bright blue eyes sparkling under the sun has my thighs tightening. He never shows his face on his social media, only his eyes if he flips the visor of his helmet up, and he rarely does that. He has the most perfect full lips, a defined jawline and his hair sits messy on top of his head. This man is the epitome of perfection.

“Y/N, right?” He asks, his low voice pulling me from my trance.

I swallow the saliva that’s built up in my mouth from looking at him and nod my head quickly. “Yeah, that’s me! Rafe, right?” I ask. But I already know. The bike he came to pick me up on lets me know it is in fact him.

He smiles widely. “That’s me. You ready? Have you ever rode before? Even just on the back?”

My hands begin to slightly shake, all of a sudden clammy. I’m nervous. But who wouldn’t be? This gorgeous man, with a large following on social media is here to pick me up, and take me riding with him for the day. Any woman in my position would be nervous too. Well, not all women, but the women like me.

“No.” I answer honestly. I watch his lips quirk up into a smirk, and I internally fist pump that he didn’t change his mind. Happy that he didn’t say “never mind, it’s not worth the hassle of teaching you”

He takes a step toward me, reaching his right hand out for me to take. I place my hand in his and pray that he can’t feel how nervous I am. He leads me toward his bike, releasing my hand and grabbing the extra helmet he’d brought with him. He turns, and when his blue eyes land on mine again, I swear I feel my heart skip a beat.

“I’m just gonna slide this on you, that okay?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah that’s fine.”

He nods once and then moves to slip the sleek black helmet over my head. Once it’s on good, his fingers move down to the straps under my chin. When his fingers brush across the skin, a shiver runs through my body. Once he has it strapped in place, he steps back and lifts the visor so he can see my eyes. “Fits perfectly. You look cute in that.”

I laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

He gives me one last smile before turning and grabbing his own helmet, placing it on his head and strapping it in place. He turns to face me again, and my panties grow wet at the sight in front of me. I don’t know what it is, but him with his helmet on is so fucking sexy.

“‘M just gonna press this button on your helmet, it’ll allow you to hear me while we’re riding.”

I nod my head and stand still as he steps toward me again, pressing a small button on the helmet I didn’t know was there. He steps back and asks, “Can you hear me?”

I giggle. “Yeah, I can hear you. That’s so cool!”

I hear him chuckle and the sound makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. “Yeah, me and my friends bought these so we can communicate while we ride, if we get separated and can’t use our hand signals. Plus, it’s fun to fuck with them this way too.”

He turns back to his bike and grabs a pair of black and white riding gloves from a drawstring bag, shoving them on his hands before turning to me once more. He claps his hands together and begins explaining the basics of riding on the back.

“So, I’ll hop on and you’ll sit on this seat behind me, and place your feet on these pegs.” He pats the seat and points to the foot pegs. “While we’re riding, wrap your arms tightly around my waist, and if I lean in a certain direction, you lean with me. It makes it easier to navigate turns and what not.” He pauses again, thinking of what else he needs to go over. He finally speaks again. “Oh! And if you get scared or want me to slow down, just tap my thigh. It’ll let me know to slow down for you.”

I nod my head and let him know I understand. Satisfied with everything he’s told me, and knowing I’m comfortable he tosses his drawstring bag onto his back and climbs onto his bike, starting it up. The engine roars to life and he turns his head to face me, nodding it toward him to let me know I can get on. I swing my right leg over the back of the bike, setting my ass onto the seat and wrap my arms tightly around his waist like he’d said to do.

I hear him through the speaker in the helmet as his hand taps my thigh. “Ready?”

“Yes!”

-

An hour later, Rafe is pulling up to the top of a parking deck. The two of us had rode non stop for the last hour, and to say it was one of the most exhilarating and memorable experiences of my life would be an understatement.

He pulls the bike to a stop, shutting off the engine and putting out the kickstand before he climbs off. He keeps his hand on my thigh to keep me upright as he gets off the bike, and then he grabs at my left hand and helps me off next.

I pop the clip of the straps under my chin, letting them fall loose before I pull the helmet up and off my head. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the knots that had formed during the ride. After a few seconds of — and actually failing — trying to tame the knots, I finally decide to just toss my hair into a high ponytail.

As I’m securing the ponytail holder in my hair, Rafe’s voice catches my attention. “So, was it everything you thought it’d be?”

I finish putting my hair up and turn to smile at him. “Absolutely. That was… So much fun.” I breathe out.

He smiles and takes two long strides toward me, making my breath catch in my throat and my thighs tighten. This man is so fucking sexy it hurts, and the fact that I’m alone with him, it has my heart pounding and my pussy throbbing. But we don’t know one another, nothing would ever happen between us. He was just being nice today, allowing me to ride with him. I bet he does this a lot. I’m nothing special.

Once he stands directly in front of me, I swear my knees almost give out. His intoxicating scent fills my nose, the warmth radiating off his body envelopes me. He reaches his right hand out, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I gotta say, you looked absolutely beautiful on my bike.”

My heart begins pounding rapidly in my chest, my hands shaking. I swear, this man is going to be my downfall. If he asked me to drop to my knees right here, right now, I don’t think I’d have the strength to tell him no.

I laugh nervously. “Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself on there.”

A wide grin spreads across his lips, and the sight alone takes my fucking breath away. He cups my cheek with his right hand, brushing his thumb across my skin. “Can I kiss you?”

My eyes go wide. Did the Rafe Cameron just ask if he could kiss me? I have to be dreaming right now. My eyes find his, searching for any sign that he’s just fucking with me. But I never find it. His blue eyes are darkened over, and hold nothing but seriousness in them.

I feel my legs turn to jello, and the only thoughts running through my mind are his lips on mine. His cock buried inside my wet cunt, down my throat. My eyes flick down to his plump lips and back to his eyes. He takes my silence as an invitation, dipping his head down and pressing his lips with mine.

The kiss starts out softly at first, but then he quickly deepens it. His tongue glides across my slightly parted lips, a low groan emitting from his chest before he forces his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues brush against one another, fighting for dominance before he finally wins. My entire body is on fire, my thighs tightening and my arousal soaks my thong. Fuck, I need more of him.

When he finally breaks his lips from mine, we’re both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling as his lust filled eyes search mine. I decide to be bold, the worst he can do is shove me away, right? My right hand slides between our bodies, finding his hard cock and palming him through the rough fabric of his black jeans. He hisses in a breath. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby. You sure you want this?”

A shiver runs up my spine at the low, raspy tone of his voice. Sexual tension is thick in the cool fall air, making it feel warmer than it is outside. My entire body screaming at me to let him have me, while my mind is screaming to run the other way. I don’t know him. I only follow him on social media. But he’s so fucking sexy. He’s so confident in himself, and I need to feel what it’s like to have him. Even if it’s just a one time thing, even if he is a stranger to me, my body fucking craves him like a drug I can’t get enough of.

My eyes find his and a mischievous smile forms on my lips. “I’m sure.”

I feel his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his jeans, and I smile knowing that it’s me who has this man all worked up. He slaps my hand away from his hard-on, his own hands quickly working the button and zipper of his jeans. He slides the black material down his legs, before shoving his boxers down as well, the material pooled at his feet. His strong hands grip my shoulders, shoving me down to my knees.

I wince when my knees hit the hard concrete beneath me. I shake away the feeling of the rough ground digging into my knees through my jeans, and focus on the hard, long and thick cock that stands erect in front of my face. I bite at my bottom lip before lightly grasping the thick base of him in my right hand. I stroke him softly, running my hands up and down, from the base to the swollen pink tip. Removing my hand, I gather saliva in my mouth and spit down into my palm before gripping him again.

I stroke him softly, toying with the head of his cock before running my hands back down the base. He growls in frustration, his hands falling to the back of my head and gripping at the high ponytail I’d put my hair into. He yanks my head up, forcing my eyes on his. “You like playing games? Suck my fucking cock, baby. Or else I promise, when it comes time to please you, I’ll play the games right fucking back, and you won’t like it when I win.”

I smirk up at him, letting out a small whimper at the tone in his voice and the feeling of his hands in my hair. He loosens his grip on my head, allowing me to drop my head back down. My tongue darts out of my mouth and I lick up the vein that’s on the underside of his cock. He moans when my tongue reaches his tip, now red and angry as precum leaks from it. I slide my tongue over the slit on the tip of his dick, gathering his precum onto my tongue. I close my eyes and hum in appreciation. “You taste so good, Rafe.”

He growls, his fingers wrapping around my ponytail once more and shoving my mouth onto his cock. He shoves himself all the way down my throat, pulling a small gag from me. I look up at him through my lashes, his head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows. Slowly, he pulls my head back, strings of my saliva coating his dick.

“‘M gonna fuck this pretty mouth, then, I’m going to bend you over this fucking bike and take you from behind. Alright?”

I whimper in response and he lets out a dark laugh. I suck in one more breath before he shoves himself back in my throat. Tears fill my eyes as I breathe through my nose. His thrusts are harsh and sloppy, his tip repeatedly abusing the back of my throat. But I don’t fucking care. This man can fucking ruin me, and I’ll thank him when he’s done.

The sounds of my gags and his grunts fill the air as he continues to abuse my throat. His thrusts begin to grow sloppier, his dick swelling in my mouth. I feel him twitch inside my mouth and then he’s yanking my head back, spit attached to his dick and my mouth go flying at his roughness.

I suck in an appreciative breath of air, my hand over my chest as it heaves up and down. He wraps his fingers around my left arm, pulling me to my feet and turning me so my back is to him. “Jeans down, now.” He demands, and I quickly obey.

My jeans are pooled at my feet, the only thing left covering me from him is the black lace thong I chose to wear today. I gasp loudly when I feel his hand slap harshly against my ass, the sting it left behind delicious. He runs his fingers over my clothed pussy, and I can’t contain the moan that slips free. “You’re fucking soaked, baby. All f’me?”

I nod my head, tears falling past my lower lashes. “Yes. Fuck, yes. All for you, Rafe.”

His fingers slide my panties to the side, baring my soaked pussy to him. I hear him groan from behind me. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. I can’t wait to feel it squeezing my cock.”

He runs his fingers through my wet folds, gathering my arousal on them before he shoves to inside me without warning. I cry out, my back arching and allowing him better access. He slowly pushes two thick digits in and out of me, his thumb pressed firmly against my clit and rubbing lazy circles around it. “So fuckin’ tight, baby. Gotta stretch you out before I shove my cock inside you, think you can handle a third finger?”

I whimper, my head falling forward and dangling over the other side of the bike. “Yes.” I say breathlessly.

He lets out a low growl before adding a third finger into my sensitive pussy. “That’s it baby girl, take my fingers. You’re almost ready for my cock.”

Whimpers and whines fall from my lips, my hips roll against his hand, fucking myself onto his fingers. The squelching noise my pussy makes while his fingers fuck me have my mind going fuzzy and my toes curling within the confines of my high top converse.

I feel myself clench tightly around his fingers as that warm feeling builds inside me. My orgasm nearing. I clench around him again, my legs shaking uncontrollably as I come undone around his fingers.

He quickly pulls his fingers from inside me, the hand that was just fucking me slaps harshly at my now overly sensitive cunt, making me scream. “Fuck me, Rafe! I need you inside me, now! Please..? Please fuck me.”

He chuckles, and I turn my head to see him with the three fingers he just fucked me with shoved into his mouth. He sucks and licks them clean, pulling them out and giving me a mouth watering smirk. “Taste so fuckin’ good. Gonna have to take you home with me after this and devour that sweet cunt of yours.”

I sigh in frustration, wiggling my ass back and forth, silently begging him to fuck me. I hear him step toward me, and then I feel his swollen head running through my slick folds. His head teases at my entrance before he slowly pushes it inside me. “Fuck!” I shout, and he chuckles. He slowly pushes himself inside me, inch my inch until he’s buried inside me, his balls lightly brushing at my sensitive clit.

He groans. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight. Pussy feels s’good wrapped around my dick.”

I let out a soft whine when he slowly pulls himself from inside me, slamming himself back in seconds later. His hands find my hips, gripping them tightly as he begins to roughly fuck himself into me. My tits are smushed against the seat of his bike, my head dangling over the other side as my hands grip at the foot peg in front of me for balance.

Each push and pull of his cock has me seeing stars, my legs turning to jello once more. A feeling of pure euphoria washes over me, and I know my second orgasm is about to explode from me. “Goddamnit, Rafe! ‘M so close, so fuckin’ close!”

One harsh thrust has the band snapping and my pussy pulsing. My second release washes over me. I lift onto the tips of my toes, screaming his name out to the world as I come undone around his thick cock.

He doesn’t let up, he continues pounding into me ruthlessly. My body goes numb, my brain foggy and blood rushing to my ears. All I can hear are the sounds of his balls slapping against my pussy and the wet, squelching noise my pussy makes with each push and pull of his hips. He lies his front on top of my back, his lips ghosting over my ear as he whispers. “Hope you’re on birth control, ‘cause I’m coming in this sweet fucking cunt.”

I whine, my eyes rolling into the back of my head when I feel his cock swell inside me. He places a hot kiss on the sweat slick skin of my neck, his teeth sinking into the skin when his dick twitches inside me. He lets out a low groan, thrusting forward once more before he still inside me, letting the hot, white ropes of his cum spill inside me. Marking me with his seed.

He lies on top of me for a few seconds, breathing heavily before he slowly pulls himself from inside me. A shudder wracks my body at the feeling of his thick cock sliding out, leaving me feeling empty and suddenly cold.

He pulls something from his bag, bringing it between my legs and wiping me clean. I look at him from behind my shoulder, and give a small smile. Once he’s finished cleaning me up, I fix my panties and lean forward to pull my jeans back up my legs. It’s awkwardly silent, and that alone makes me uncomfortable. Does he regret what we just did? Does he wish he didn’t have to make the awkward ride back with me back to my place?

All the thoughts running through my mind vanish when I feel his lips on mine. “Stop that.” He says once he pulls away.

I frown. “Stop what?”

His hands cup my cheeks and he smiles down at me. “Thinking. I can see it written all over your face.” He pauses, kissing the top of my forehead, and the act alone has my stomach erupting with butterflies again. “I meant what I said, I’m taking you home and devouring that sweet cunt, you got a thirty minute ride to prepare yourself for a long night baby.” He says with a wink, and then he turns to get us ready for the ride back to his house.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

[gurugirl]

STOPPPPP IT THE SHORTS ARE SO SHORT! WTF THE TIGER IS SHOWING! OMG Y/N WOULD GO CRAZYYYYYYY OVER IT. okok so maybe y/n gets jealous that Harry was wearing such short shorts in public that she ends up getting moody and Harry makes it up to her by letting her ride his thigh and fucks her saying stuff like “y’know this cock belongs to you darling” and stuff 😩😩

HAPPY FRIDAY YOU GUYS!!!

PLEASE I've been looking at these pics all day. What is this man thinking????????? I cannot handle him. He's such a tease. And I wrote this way too fast. Sorry if it sucks but this picture deserves a smut piece written about it. He's too fucking hot.

1.6k words

warning: mostly plotless smut, not proofread whatsoever

Y/n was used to Harry being ogled. Always the hottest guy in the room with the most charisma and charm. Everyone flocked to him and everyone's eyes always followed him. He was magnetic. And he knew it too.

As much as she realized she had nothing to worry about she still got jealous of the attention he constantly got. He didn't even need to try. He could be wearing a backwards baseball cap and loose jeans with a t-shirt and people would still be after her man.

And today, their little break away from the business of life led them to a relaxing little outing in the Italian sun. Before they'd even left the villa she eyed his short green trunks and how his fit torso was in full view, the long sleeved shirt draped over his shoulders, totally unbuttoned.

Biting her tongue, she figured she was being silly wishing he'd cover up a bit. She certainly wouldn't take well to him telling her to cover up, not that he'd ever.

But once they were on the beach and about to board their private yacht she did notice women and men alike watching him. His bronzed chiseled abs and pecs peeking out from the shirt, and of course he'd tucked his shorts up a bit to protect the mesh lining from chafing this inner thighs (he always did that because he said his package was too large to sit comfortably in the lining and it gave him a little extra support). His strong thighs on full view holding his tall frame upright as he carried both of their bags.

"Come on," he held his hand out to her as he helped her up into the boat safely.

He could tell she was a little pouty. He knew her too well. Knew he was being eye fucked by half the beach as they walked to the yacht they'd rented for the afternoon.

"What's wrong, love?" He grinned as he pulled at the strap of her bathing suit teasingly.

"Nothing. Just looking forward to getting out onto the ocean."

Harry crowded her space, stepping in front of her so she couldn't look at anything but him, "Yeah? Is that it? You seem to have been awfully quiet all morning. Nothing else you want to talk about?"

She looked up at him and the smirk he wore told her that he knew just what she was pouting about. But she just shook her head and crossed her arms, "Nope."

The low chuckle that fell from his chest as he pushed her arms down and grasped her wrists made her cheeks warm up, "Liar. You're jealous."

Harry kind of liked that she got jealous. Because in all truth, he'd get jealous when anyone would look at her just the same.

"Am not."

Harry walked her backward as the driver of the yacht began to move the boat out to sea, "Let's go down into the suite for a bit. Need to show you something," he gestured toward the door that lead to the stairs to get to the lower level.

She huffed as she carefully stepped down into the furnished room. It was small but there was a counter with a TV above it, a mini bar with fridge, a bathroom, a sitting area and a bed in the center.

Harry closed and locked the door before grasping Y/n's arms and pushing her toward the bed, pressing his chest into her back and speaking into her ear in a dark baritone, "Let's figure out what's got you so moody. Maybe I can help."

She tried to keep her composure but his voice and his skin and his hands always melted her poise.

When he felt her relax into his hold he smiled and kissed the back of her neck, bringing her into the bed with him, "There we go."

Y/n climbed into the middle of the bed and sat on her bottom as Harry spread out next to her, "Hop on. Let's talk."

She looked down at his lap and back into his eyes. She knew his plan. It always worked.

Biting the inside of her cheek she quietly moved to straddle his lap but he stopped her from fully spanning his thighs with hers, "Just sit on the tiger for a minute."

She looked up at him like he was crazy but settled herself right over his thigh, the crotch of her swimsuit right on top of the inked tiger on his strong thigh.

"Good girl. See that," he looked down to how she was sitting on him, "No one else gets to do that. Just cause they can see it doesn't mean they can fuck themselves on me like this. Know you like that, don't you?"

She nodded bit her bottom lip.

"That's right." Harry put his hands at her hips and pulled her up and then pushed her back a bit, "Let's see you do it. Show me who this belongs to."

Once Harry got her momentum going she rocked over his taut, muscular thigh gently. Harry kissed her softly and moaned, "See? What they don't know is that this tiger gets his face fucked by the prettiest little pussy. Gets to have your scent all over it. Cause you own it. Don't you, love?"

"Yes." She squeaked pathetically.

She was already so turned on and it wasn't because of the way she was rubbing her cloth-covered clit over his thigh. It was the way he was speaking to her. She could feel herself getting wet slowly and the faster she rocked she noticed Harry's large bulge under his short green trunks.

"Getting him coated, love. Good job, honey. You need a little more? Want to come?"

"Y- yes. I do, Harry..." She lowered her hand from his shoulder to cup his thickened cock, "want this."

"Mmm... want my cock? Want to fuck yourself on my cock? Fuck what's yours?"

She nodded and the look in his eyes turned quickly from soft green to dark and lusty, "Take your bottoms off right now."

She quickly got up to her knees and pulled her swim bottoms down her legs as Harry pulled his green trunks off, his cock bobbing heavily as he leaned his back into the headboard.

She climbed after him, desperate to have him inside of her and she whined as she grasped him and placed his hot, thick crown at her entrance. She paused as she looked him in the eyes but Harry needed her just as much. He put his hands at her waist and pushed her down onto him, groaning lowly at the relief.

"Fuck. This cock is all yours, Y/n. Every bit of me is all yours, darling."

She keened as she felt him inside her guts so deep it ached.

Slowly she began rolling her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy down over him, keeping her clit satisfyingly smeared against his pelivs.

"It's mine," she whined as she put her hands on his shoulders and rocked quickly, the sound of her wet pussy sucking his cock in deep sounded between them.

"Yes it is. Fuck it like you mean it, Y/n. Want to see you own it. Need you to milk me dry."

Y/n gasped when Harry put his hands under her thighs and helped her ride him properly. It was always a task to fuck him this way but so worth the view and the orgasm.

She wanted to make him come so hard. Make him dizzy and mushy and drain his balls of everything he had. She wanted his come inside of her where it belonged. Because it was hers. No one could have Harry in this way. He was her man.

"Yes, baby. Riding me so good. Fuck yourself on me deep, honey. Make yourself come on me baby. Take what's yours, Y/n."

Her chest was getting hot and her thighs were burning as their wet skin slopped together each time she dropped down onto his cock, tucking him deep inside of her so his balls were up against her ass.

Looking down between their bodies it was a sticky, creamy mess. The trimmed hair at the base of Harry's shaft was white with cream and his girthy cock was stretching her out so beautifully.

"Harry! Oh my god. I'm gonna come!"

"Yeah?" Harry widened his thighs and bent his knees the slightest bit so he could take her over the edge and fuck into her so deep she could feel his come in her womb. The moment he began to move his hips into her she yelped and gasped and her fingers dug into his shoulders sharply, "Who's cock is this, baby? Tell me who it belongs to, honey," his words were grunted.

"It's mine! You're mine, Harry!" Her world was spinning as she jolted up each time he punched into her from his position below. His fingers dug into her ass and he clenched his teeth as he began to throb.

"S'right. This cock is yours. I'm yours, Y/n. Fucking gonna make me come aren't you, baby?"

She nodded and then her mouth dropped open and she grew silent as her orgasm washed over her body. Her ears rang as she pulsed over his cock.

Harry choked out a loud moan and filled her to the brim with himself as he stilled his hips and his thigh trembled at the exertion.

Gasps and soft inhaled breaths were stifled when Y/n pushed her lips to his and pressed her chest into his tightly, her arms wrapping around him.

Harry grunted a laugh and pinched her bottom and she jumped.

"Told you I could help. All better now?" Harry cooed at his sweet girl.

Pulling back to look at him she smiled, "All better now."

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[delicatejaws]

what’re friends for?

pairing: togame x reader, sakura x reader, little bit of togame x reader x sakura

tags: afab reader, virginity loss (m), exhibitionism, voyeurism, cum eating, slight manipulation/coercion/corruption (character wants to participate but feels morally wrong about it), cucking, pet names used (angel, baby, princess), oral receiving (m & f), unprotected sex, explicit smut, threesome (?)

author’s note: this is my first time posting my writing anywhere but this idea has been rotting a hole in my brain so it felt like a good one to put out into the world. a rot shared is a rot halved and all that

summary: togame was always a good friend, and this year for sakura’s birthday, he wanted to get him the best gift he could imagine.

wc: 6.5k

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Togame again, wanting to be 100% sure you are both on the same page.

“Baby, he’s one of my best friends. Of course I’m sure.”

He had sounded certain, but you still couldn't believe it. Sakura’s birthday was coming up, and Jou had decided to get him the best gift he could possibly imagine: you.

It was a well-known secret that Sakura was infatuated with you, but it didn’t bother your husband. He always assured everyone that it only made sense he would be into you; you were irresistible, and you were one of the only women Sakura ever spent significant time around. He was bound to develop a little crush on you.

It didn’t bother you either; Sakura was cute and sweet, and the only reason he didn’t talk to other women much was because he was painfully shy. You hoped that growing comfortable around you could help him gain some confidence to branch out a bit more.

Togame liked watching you two interact. Harmlessly flirting in an effort to warm him up, Sakura’s blush would rise to his ears as his eyes bounced around the room, too timid to look directly at you for long but also terrified that Togame would notice and think poorly of him.

Little did he know that watching your interactions had the opposite effect on Togame. Jou loved watching you work Sakura into a puddle, and he soon was inspired enough to come up with a plan that would ultimately benefit everyone involved.

Sakura’s 25th was quickly approaching, and your boyfriend happened to know that his friend, as shy and awkward as he is, is still a virgin. So what better gift to give him than the feeling of a sweet, tight pussy wrapping around him for the first time?

It would be a surprise, of course; the more flustered Sakura was, the more enjoyment your boyfriend could derive from this. Watching him melt under your innocent touches and sweet mouth before he even came close to getting to feel you—well, that was the real joy for Togame.

For you, getting to mold this experience into exactly what you wanted, knowing how easily Sakura would do what you asked, and feeling wanted by someone so desperately, well, that was your joy. And Jou would be watching the whole thing, which was just icing on the cake.

After weeks of planning, the day has finally arrived. Your head is buzzing as you finish the icing on the cake in front of you, a small little thing fit for a party of three. Vanilla, of course. Didn’t want to dive into anything too wild. Sakura would be coming over soon; Togame invited him over for a home-cooked meal to celebrate his birthday. An innocent enough guise to get him in the door.

You quickly clean up and head to your room. Togame encouraged you to wear something casual but a little provocative—something that would make Sakura feel like he was pushing it by ogling you—but gave him plenty to look at while he did.

You slip on a simple, stretchy tank; it’s snug with a low scoop neck, and it doesn't really allow a bra to be worn under it. You knew that if it got chilly at all later, it may leave a little less to the imagination—perfect. Jeans felt innocent enough, but this particular pair are a little tight, and were notorious for drawing a wandering eye from all men, Sakura included. The outfit as a whole is unassuming, just a simple, comfortable outfit on a Saturday night in your own home. Nothing nefarious about it.

Just as you finish up, you hear the front door open and chatter between the two men. You feel warm, excitement bubbling through you at the promise the night held. You take one last look in the mirror, truly hoping Sakura will like his birthday gift.

You make your way to the living room, smiling brightly at him as you enter.

“Happy birthday, Sakura!” You move in for a hug, arms wrapping around his neck, arching into his body as much as you could without being suspicious. You feel him tense up at the contact.

"Dinner will be ready in five if you want to sit!" He makes his way to the dining room. He’s relaxed in your home, having been here several times before. He knows the layout, and he isn’t afraid to help himself to a drink. You smile as he settles in, enjoying how at ease he looks.

Dinner is pleasant, jokes and stories are tossed around, and laughter fills the room. You occasionally feel Sakura's eyes lingering on you as you laugh or when you reach across the table for the bottle of wine you've been sharing, but more predominantly, you feel Togame’s predatory stare flash between the two of you. You have all finished eating, but you could tell he is still hungry, and you couldn’t wait to satiate him.

After cleaning up, the three of you migrate to the living room, with your husband tactfully taking the only chair, leaving Sakura to drop into a spot at the end of the couch. You join him, sitting much closer than he expected, your leg brushing against his. You watch as he shifts in his seat, warmth building where your legs touch.

“So Sakura, what’d you do this afternoon? Anything for your birthday?” You ask, smiling up at him as softly as you can.

“Ah, no, not really. Got my free coffee at Pothos and ran some errands, but that’s about it.” He picks at a cuticle, hands settled in his lap.

"Well, that’s not bound to make you feel special; everyone should feel special on their birthday!” You cutely pout at him, gently slapping his chest in exclamation. His eyes carefully watch your hands before making their way up to fixate on your lips.

"Oh, babe, I know what makes me feel special on my birthday!” Togame chimes in, and you eagerly await your set-up.

“Right at midnight on my birthday, you come to me no matter what you're doing and wish me a happy birthday with the sweetest kiss—it makes me feel real special.”

Sakura chuckles, a little awkward but still genuine. “God a birthday kiss, huh? Haven’t got one of those since I was probably 16—and it was from Ms. Chiyoko.” You giggle in response, patting his knee in comfort.

“Well, give him a kiss, baby,” your boyfriend smirks at the two of you. You do your best to feign surprise, but Sakura doesn’t need to fake anything.

“What do you mean?” Your hands are twitching. You know exactly what he means.

“You want him to feel special on his birthday, right? Kiss him.” He stares at the two of you, legs spread, his smile confident and waiting.

Sakura sputters next to you, raising his hands up in surrender and resistance, his eyes darting between the two of you.

“You really don’t have to do that; he’s just fucking with m-“ he stops short as your soft lips press against his cheek, a blush instantly spreading across his face.

You lean back, smiling at him. He stares at you, mouth agape, his hand cradling his cheek where your lips had just been.

Togame scoffs, unimpressed.

"Oh, come on, just a kiss on the cheek? He deserves more than that, don’t you think?”

You hum thoughtfully as you place your hand on Sakura’s chest again, and look up at him. A blush rises up your neck now too, and though it plays into your ruse of innocence, you know it was the anticipation that was causing your body to heat.

“Would you like that? If I kissed you?” You press into him more, pushing your chest out and tracing your hand on his knee. Truly evil of you to ask him questions while touching him like that.

“I,” Sakura starts, but his eyes keep diverting back to Togame. Your boyfriend’s cocky expression has not waned in the slightest, and it is not giving Sakura any of the answers he is searching for. Your hand moves to the younger man’s chin, gently forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t worry about him; answer me.” He swallows tightly, his eyes fluttering between your tits and your eyes. He nods slowly.

“Yes, I’d like that.” Using your grip on his chin, you pull his mouth to yours. It’s quite chaste, but as your hand slips from his chin and splays across his thigh, he gasps, and you take the opportunity to deepen it. You run your tongue across his lower lip, and he shudders. Shifting, your other hand moves to fist his t-shirt to pull him closer, and you push your tongue into his waiting mouth.

He groans, his tongue slowly starting to move with yours. His hands, however, remain stiffly at his sides, nails digging into the meat of his palm as he resists the urge to reach out and touch you. Much too soon, his body makes him pull away for a breath. You don’t let him get far, gently digging your teeth into his lower lip, tugging it slightly before letting go.

He stares at you dumbly, flushed pink, with little crescent marks littering his palms. You pull your own lower lip in between your teeth, your eyelashes fluttering at him. The hand still on his thigh squeezes him before letting go, and a rush of warmth pools in your belly at the little hiss that escapes from behind his teeth.

The silence is broken by a chuckle from Jou, still unmoving from his spot in the armchair. The laugh isn’t loud, but Sakura startles anyway, being torn from the little world you two had been in only moments ago. Sakura clears his throat, dragging his hands up and down his legs. He looks up toward Togame, who finally leans in, elbows resting on his knees as he speaks to him.

“Told ya she’d make you feel special.” Sakura nods, avoiding looking in your direction, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Although you’re gonna hurt yourself resisting like that,” he says, head motioning to Sakura’s hands, still red from his clenched fists and fingernails. “Sometimes you just have to give in.”

“That doesn’t really feel like something I should do, ya know, considering...” It seemed Sakura wasn’t sure what to say. You can practically see his mind scrambling—something about the fact that you’re his friend’s girlfriend, and he really shouldn’t touch what isn’t his. But then again, Togame was just happily encouraging you as you shoved your tongue down his throat, so how much did that reasoning apply in this situation?

“You’re just going to leave my beautiful girl all high and dry?” A frown settles on Togame’s face as he rises to walk around and stand behind you two on the couch. Your mind drifts to thoughts of a puppet master standing over his characters, orchestrating his ideal story. It makes you smile as you think about how the evening would go if Togame had his way.

“Look at her; just one kiss isn’t enough. She needs more.” Jou places his hand in your hair lovingly, and you look up at him, a slight pout finding your lips again. He’s right, you’re quite flustered, even from just a simple kiss. Your legs are crossed tightly, the tops of your ears pink, and your nipples have perked up enough to proudly press through your tank. You turn your pout to Sakura, whose eyes are flashing across your body, hands once again in fists.

“Please, Sakura?” You practically whine, and despite how hard he tries to hide it, you hear a moan escape Sakura’s throat. Confusion still fills his eyes as he tries to understand what game you two are playing.

“I shouldn’t, right?” He’s asking now, and you can see his hands flexing, wanting so badly to reach out. Togame crouches down so he can whisper in the younger man’s ear, but you still hear him.

“The only thing you shouldn’t do is leave my baby waiting, Sakura. She wants it. She wants you. So what’re you gonna do about it?”

You stand as he speaks, moving right in front of Sakura and knocking his legs apart with your knee to step between them. He takes a long, slow breath as he watches you, thinking about what Togame just said.

Carefully, you move into place above his lap, knees on either side of his hips, hands settling on his nape. His wide eyes meet yours as you finally sit, fully pressed against his pelvis, where you feel the slightest hint of him pressing through his jeans. You scoot further up his lap, trying to get comfortable, and his eyes roll back at the friction.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, nearly inaudible. You don't want to rush him or make him too uncomfortable, but you need to feel his hands on you.

You make eye contact with a pair of lazy green eyes over Sakura’s head. Togame looks like he is sinfully enjoying this. He knows how badly you need something—anything—from the man beneath you. He can tell how turned on you are from the tension, and he gestures at the man, encouraging you to press on. So you lean forward and whisper, “Please touch me, Haruka.”

His expression is filled with longing; you know how badly he wants to concede. You let your hands glide from his nape to his shoulders, rubbing gently before continuing down his biceps and forearms all the way to his hands.

You pull them forward, placing them on your hips. "See, not so bad, right?" He squeezes the seam of your thighs, and you grind forward in response.

"Do that again; rock me back and forth," you whisper as your arms find their way back to his neck, fingers toying with the hair there.

He experimentally rolls your hips ever so slightly, but the angle has your clit rubbing against your jeans, and you whimper. Sakura's eyes look up from your lap to your face, where your eyes are fluttering and your mouth is hanging open. So sinful, he can't be expected to resist you.

Your expression has him gaining confidence, and he's rocking you faster now before switching the pace to one that's slower but harder. It's also more precise, and you whine at each grind of his hardening cock against you. Somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, you're impressed by his intuition. Or maybe he’s just getting lucky.

“Do you want to see her tits, Sakura?”

The man beneath you grunts as he continues to move your hips against his, nodding fervently at Togame’s suggestion.

“Go on, baby, show him.” You remove your hands from the hair at Sakura’s nape and slowly pull the hem of your tank up atop your breasts. Sakura isn’t moving your hips too fast, but even the slight movement has them bouncing, enticing, and just calling to be touched.

He moans at the sight; between your perfect tits and the dry-humping, Sakura was horrified of cumming in his pants. He knows that as soon as he does, all this will be over, and he'll be back to pining glances and thoughts of you while alone in his bedroom.

"Want to touch you, please," he's practically begging, using every ounce of restraint to not immediately put his mouth on you.

"Touch her," your boyfriend encourages him, "taste her."

Sakura needs nothing more, and his hands slowly slide up your rib cage until finally, blissfully, they're wrapped around your breasts. He gropes you, clumsily but gently, his fingers flicking across your nipples. The stimulation has you resuming your rocking, sporadic against his pelvis.

“Fuck, am I a bad friend?” His voice is whiny, conflicted.

You lean into his touch, his hands kneading the flesh of your tits. It has you grinding faster, a slight moan escaping your lips.

“No, no, you’re the best kind of friend,” you hum out, lost in the sensation of his rough hands. Suddenly, his head dips forward as he captures your nipple in his mouth, tongue sloppily passing over the sensitive nub. His fingers pinch your other tit, and the sensation is overwhelming.

He pulls away from your chest for air, but you hardly allow him a chance to catch his breath as you’re pulling him to you, mouth on his again. You’re writhing, desperate, and your kiss is all tongue and whimpers because of it. The way he’s been looking at you makes you feel like you’re an angel, and you’ve hardly given him anything. You’re eager to show him just how good you can make him feel.

You separate and look at Togame, pleading for him to guide you two towards more, and mercifully he does. He leans over the back of the couch again, staring at your breasts, glistening with spit, and smiles.

“Doesn’t she look pretty? All riled up like this?” His slow drawl is dripping with lust; you can tell he wants you too.

Sakura doesn’t look back at him anymore; he’s much too transfixed on you, fingers still digging into your hips as he struggles to control himself as he waits for instructions he’s come to expect when the man behind him speaks.

“So fucking pretty,” you make eye contact with him, his pretty gray and gold eyes clouded with desire as they drag across your body.

“Baby, you should do a little something for him, don’t ya think?”

You can’t help the devilish smirk that graces your face, and you love the surge of nerves and excitement that cross Sakura’s face when he sees it. You slide off his lap, standing between his spread legs as you pull your shirt off the rest of the way.

Your body is like a live wire right now, and you feel yourself overflowing with the need for physical touch. You stare down at him, grasping at your own breasts to give yourself some of the stimulation your body desperately needs.

“I want you to stand for me.”

He’s taller than you, watching you down the line of his nose as he starts clenching his fists again. Your hands move from your chest to his, sliding down his front until you find the waistband of his jeans. You push up his shirt, hooking your fingers into the space between his pants and briefs, and pull his body to yours, humming at the feeling of him pushing against your stomach. You need to see it, now.

Your hands move to undo the button, and suddenly his hands are on top of yours.

“You--you don’t have to.” His voice was tinged with worry, and you realize that he thinks Togame talked you into this; that you’re only participating because you’re being told.

He’s too sweet, assuming that your boyfriend was the mastermind behind all this, as if you haven’t been thinking about what his cock looks like since the first time you made him blush and wondered if his head would flush the same shade. You reach up and weave a hand into his hair and whisper pure sin against his ear.

“I’ve been dreaming about sucking your cock since the first time I saw you get hard for me. I remember you desperately trying to hide it as you got out of the car, but I had already felt you squirming beneath me. And I just imagined,” you slowly slide your hand into his pants as you speak, gently combing through the hair you find there, “what it would look like, all flushed and leaking for me.”

His breathing hitches at your words, his hands falling away from yours, and you pull back from his neck.

“So, can I?” Your smile is sweet as you look at him, fingers back to fiddling with the button of his jeans.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” His face is rosy, a combination of embarrassment at the realization that you’ve known how badly he’s been pining over you and a little because everything right now is just so warm.

You make quick work of his pants, pulling them down to the middle of his thighs, and are met with a lovely sight. His briefs are straining, his swollen cock pushing to get out, a wet spot growing near the head. You want to tear them away, get to what you’ve been waiting for, but this day is about him. And so you choose to take your time.

You don’t touch him right away, instead, you glide your hands across his hip bones, underneath the bottom hem of his shirt, digging your thumbs in with anticipation. Slowly, very very slowly, you sink down to your knees, your hands following your descent down his thighs. You avoid touching anything too sensitive, at least for now. His hands are eye level now, and based on those alone, you would assume the poor man was in absolute anguish. His knuckles are white and protruding, and his nails are freshening up the marks from earlier. It’s time to put him out of his misery.

You slide your right hand from his thigh, achingly slow, until his clothed dick is under your palm, and you gently squeeze. You feel his body tense under your left hand, still braced on his (very tightly clenched) leg.

You stroke him through the fabric of his briefs, barely-there touches that have his hips thrusting forward. You could do this forever, tracing the outline of his cock with one gentle finger and watching it twitch for you over and over again, but you are quickly reminded you have more you should be getting to.

“Quit teasing the poor guy, baby,” Togame speaks up, humor lacing his voice. He’s back in the chair, reclined—he'd be the image of relaxation if it weren’t for the flush on his cheeks. He’s got a hand draped across his lap, palming his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. It sends a jolt through you—the thought of him getting off to watching you pleasure his friend... It gets you back on track with the task in front of you, ready to put on a show, as you slowly begin to pull Sakura’s briefs down his legs.

As you suspected, it’s stupid how pretty he is. His dichromatic hair is here too, neat, dark curls with wisps of white. He’s Togame’s opposite in so many ways, you should have guessed that his cock would be too. Where you’re used to Togame’s girth and slight curve to the right, Sakura’s thinner but lengthy, with an upward arch that makes your mouth water. And, to your delight, the shade of his leaking tip did indeed match his cheeks.

You wrap your hand around him and give an experimental tug, the velvet skin feeling so soft and promising in your hand, and you hear an uneven breath from up above.

“Fuck, Haruka, it’s even prettier than I thought it’d be.” You’re still stroking him lightly, nothing to send him over the edge yet, but just the right amount to make him stutter when he speaks to you.

A small smile graces his lips, and one hand cautiously finds a spot in your hair. You lean further into his hand, encouraging the touch.

“You’ve thought about me?” Fuck, he sounds smitten; his eyes all hearts, and brain completely flooded with thoughts of you. You adore it.

You nod with a hum. “Of course. What you’d look like, what you’d feel like, what you’d taste like,” you emphasize your words with one long lick, from the base to his pearly tip, following a beautifully prominent vein along the bottom. Dipping back in quickly to lick his head, already slick with precum and leaking more with every single breath you take in his vicinity.

The room fills with his soft groans and the obscene sound of your mouth slurping around his cock. Occasionally, you can hear Togame swear under his breath. You want to go faster, take him deeper, but you’re worried he’ll cum too quickly if you do, so you keep it slow and measured, just enough to have his tip leaking and pulsing in your mouth.

Finally, Togame stands and approaches the two of you, circling you slowly. A predator determining how it’ll play with its prey next. It seems, however, that he is running out of patience.

“Have you thought about fucking my girl, Sakura?” Sakura groans at the question, eyes fixated on your plush lips surrounding his cock, the thought causing it to twitch in your mouth. Lust-filled green eyes meet yours, coaxing you to pull off of Sakura so that you can lead him forward. With one last lick, you make your way to your feet and replace his briefs.

“You’re so pretty like that,” he says, breathless and reverent. In his delirious state, he follows you easily as you pull him toward your bedroom, stepping out of his jeans and leaving them behind.

“You know how else I look pretty? On my back,” he hums, in obvious agreement, but you don’t stop there, “or my face pressed into a mattress, ass in the air, my dripping pussy just begging to be fucked.” Sakura freezes at your words, and you give him a small tug to pull him into the room.

Togame steps around the two of you, settling into the chair he set up in your room just for tonight.

“Wait ‘til you see how soaked she is just from having your cock in her mouth.” You blush in a bit of genuine embarrassment; you know it’s true. You can feel how wet you are, slick and dripping, desperate for attention down there. You undo the button of your jeans and silently pull the zipper down before reaching for Sakura’s hand.

“Gimme your hand, wanna show you.”

You start to pull his hand, but he quickly takes initiative, reaching and twisting to slip into your panties.

You gasp as the tip of his middle finger grazes your folds, and his eyes snap up to meet yours with a look of pure awe on his face. He slips in further, all fingers sweeping past your slit now, becoming coated in you as you whimper at his slight touch. To your dismay, he pulls his hand back out and looks at his fingers as the slick coating them catches the light and webs between his fingers.

Togame chuckles darkly from his chair, satisfied with how right he was. Then, as a bit of a shock to both of you, Sakura sticks his fingers in his mouth.

“God, I want to taste you, please.” This, you weren’t expecting, and you look to Togame for guidance. He can see in your face how badly you want it and can clock your arousal even from across the room.

“Whatever my baby wants. You better make her feel good, Sakura.”

With that, you sit down on the bed as Sakura eagerly grabs at your pants, pulling them off your legs. Left in just your panties, you scoot up to the head of the bed to lean against the pillows, holding your legs together.

Sakura crawls his way up to you from the end of the bed, his eyes wild with excitement.

“Have you ever done this before?” He shakes his head no, but it doesn’t halt his eagerness. Kneeling in front of you, he gently pries your legs open, eyes narrowing in on the wet spot in the center of your panties, and he groans.

“Is-is that because of me?” Togame asks you the same question sometimes, but they once again couldn’t be more different. The nervous shake in his voice, the genuine curiosity and uncertainty—fuck, it has the spot growing even more.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper to him, "need you to touch me, please.”

A swear escapes under his breath as he reaches out, his thumb gently rubbing against your slit through the fabric, and your head droops back. It’s almost nothing, his touch is so subtle and brings you nearly no relief, but you whine all the same. At the promise, the promise that it’s so close.

“Go ahead, pull them aside. Take a good look at her.” Your head lolls over to look at your boyfriend, who has finally caved and taken his dick out of his sweats. He strokes his half-hard cock slowly, and you whine again, desperate for any kind of relief.

Luckily for you, Sakura does as he’s told and pulls your panties to the side, and his breath hitches at the view. Pink and slick, he stares wide-eyed, and it has you clenching, and the sight has him breaking.

His tongue sweeps out, a tiny kitten lick into your folds. Then again, then slower, and you’re fighting the urge to flail your legs. Fingers come up to spread you open, and he pulls you apart enough to expose your clit. It’s twitching violently, and Sakura is awestruck by the cute little pink nub.

“That her clit,” Togame sounds just as pent-up as you feel, frustration starting to kick in while waiting for the virgin to figure things out on his own. “Take her panties off and give it a lick."

While maybe a little clueless, he takes direction incredibly well. Your panties are quickly pulled down your legs and discarded, and then the roughness of his tongue is rubbing against your bundle of nerves, and you practically squeal with joy at the feeling.

“Fuck, again, Sakura,” and he does, again and again, as you try to keep your thrashing to a minimum. It’s a clunky way to build you up, but it’s doing the job. But you think it’s your turn to be selfish.

“Want your fingers too, baby,” you thread a hand into his hair to slow his direct assault to your clit. "Take it slow, start with one.”

He props himself up on his elbow, then slowly takes his middle finger on his other hand and runs it through your slit, searching for where you needed him. With a guiding touch, you help him find it, and it's sinking into you with little resistance as you groan. He pumps it back and forth, but the motion feels stiff, his nerves getting to him again.

But Togame always knows when to step in.

“Add another one, then curl towards you as you slide in.” Sakura turns to look at Togame, unsure of his advice, and finds the man with his legs spread, thick cock leaking onto his hand as he fists himself at the sight of you two. It takes him by surprise, but what’s even more surprising is how it has him grinding his hips into the mattress.

“You like that he’s watching, don’t you?” Sakura’s blush finds its way to his hairline, and you giggle.

“That’s cute, maybe next time he can join.” Next time? Sakura’s heartbeat spikes with the idea of another opportunity to be with you, to see how Togame treats you, to watch you take it from someone more experienced... He is suddenly very determined to not disappoint you, and gets to doing as he was told.

He nestles two fingers into you and moves them a few times before curling, and you keen for him. Your back arches off the bed, and your hands are back in his hair. He repeats the motion, and after a few strokes, he nails down the exact spot that triggers you the most and starts to absolutely abuse it.

Little tears leak down your cheek; you feel like you waited so long for this, and finally, your release was getting close. Just one more thing.

“Mouth, Haruka, please!” It’s a pitiful little scream that comes out of you, and you’re not even sure it makes sense, but your boyfriend is always looking out for you.

“Her clit, from before,” he’s grunting, and it sounds a bit breathless. “Suck on it.”

The younger man complies, his lips locking around your clit and pulling it tight into his mouth. He grinds himself harder into the mattress, desperately willing himself to outlast you, and with one long suck and a flick of the tip of his tongue, he gets his wish.

You writhe around him, shooting up to hold his wrist and keep his fingers buried inside you as you come, fluttering around his fingers. Sharp, whiny moans escape you, and he looks up at you, eyes glittering, and you can’t help but yank him into a sloppy kiss.

Breathless, you lean back, and he retracts his fingers, sitting up to his knees. Deep breaths fall from your lips as you turn to check on Togame, whose jaw hangs open a little as the grip on the base of his cock tightens, desperate not to cum from your fucked-out expression. He’s waiting for the grand finale.

Sakura’s the first to speak, his voice airy and excited as he crawls even closer to you; he’s lured to you, needy. Watching you fall apart under him has broken any restrictions he was putting on himself. He shamelessly drapes himself over you, wanting to be as close as possible.

“Fuck, feeling you cum around my fingers like that...”

A laugh puffs out of your chest, and you pull him in closer and whisper in his ear, “It’ll feel even better when I’m cumming around your cock.” He shudders out a gasp as your mouth places open mouth kisses across his neck, arching up into his still partially clothed body.

The two of you are getting a little lost in your own world when suddenly Togame speaks up.

"I want her on her knees," your boyfriend says, speaking up for the first time in a while, eyes dark, "on her knees, facing me."

You kiss Sakura deeply one more time before he helps you roll over and slides an arm across your hips to hike them up. You're arching for him, leaning on your arms as you stare at your boyfriend. Is he getting jealous? Right before the best part?

Sakura's hands glide across your ass, pulling you apart to look at your pussy, still soaked and shiny, pulsing as it desperately waits for more. His movements feel in sync with the sight before you. Togame slowly drags his hand up and down his shaft, orgasm successfully delayed for now. He's staring into your eyes, but you can't read his expression.

"Sakura, please, fuck me," you call out to the man behind you, with your eyes fixated on the one in front. At your words, Jou’s eyes relax, and as he smiles broadly at you, you feel the press of Sakura's cock before it slides all the way to the hilt.

You break eye contact, and the shock of suddenly being so full knocks the breath out of you. Simultaneous choked gasps come from you and Sakura, but a soft chuckle comes from Togame’s side of the room.

Sakura bends over you, unmoving, deep breaths pressing his naked chest to your back.

“How’s my baby feel, Sakura?” The question causes Sakura to whimper in your ear.

“So good, too good,” he sounds panicked as he runs his hands up and down your waist. You peek an eye open to see Togame smirking, fucking his fist much faster now.

"Well, come on, Sakura. Fuck her,” you moan at his words and clench around Sakura, and the feeling causes him to jerk his hips. Not even a real thrust, but just the taste of that movement, and he’s fucking hooked.

The definition of 0 to 60, Sakura’s suddenly moving his hips faster than you’d think possible, hips colliding with your ass over and over. Until his hands find your ass and he squeezes the flesh there. The pull lets him catch a glimpse of him disappearing inside you, and the sight has him drastically changing pace.

The drag as he pulls out slowly as you moan, hands fisted into the sheets, feels torturously sweet. He pulls out all the way, tip just kissing your entrance for a moment before he slides all the way in again, the vein on the underside pulsing as he does. You feel like sobbing, and maybe you are crying a little bit. The bed under your face is mysteriously wet as you babble out the man’s name.

“More, I need more,” and just like always, your boyfriend is there to help you.

“A little faster, Sakura,” he says as he approaches the bed, sweatpants discarded his dick bobbing and dripping with pre as he comes to stand over you, “focus on the feeling. I’ll get her to cum on your cock.”

The younger man nods dumbly as he grabs your hips, picking up his pace to something steadily in the middle of the two he tried before. It’s better; it feels good, but Togame knows exactly what you need.

His own cock in his right hand, he rests a knee on the bed next to your head and reaches his left down your body until he finds your clit. In time with the way he strokes himself, he rubs tight little circles, and the tears are in full force now.

He stares down at you, confident and endearing, knowing that even though he’s letting another man fuck you in front of him, your eyes are starry and tear-filled, looking at him, because he’s the one that’s going to make you cum.

“Jou, ‘m so close,” you whine, so focused on the man above you, almost forgetting whose cock is the one pounding into you at the moment.

“Yeah, princess? Cum for us, then. Show Sakura what it feels like to have a pussy cum around him,” his words send you over, crying out his name as you clench tightly around Sakura, and he’s folded over you again, whining in your ear.

“I’m going to cum, fuck.” You’re not sure who he’s talking to, but Togame grabs him by the chin and forces him to look him in the eye.

“Go on and cum in my girl, Sakura. Make sure she knows how good of a fucking job she did, yeah?” Before he even gets the last word out, Sakura’s pinned his hips to your ass, and you can feel it. Warmth floods you as he cums, so much virgin fucking cum filling you up as you whimper.

“Can I come for you, angel?” You nod your head furiously, wanting so badly for Togame to feel as good as you do right now.

“Wherever you want, Jou, please,” you tell him, eyelashes batting up at him.

“Such a good girl,” he groans out as he finally cums standing over you, ropes landing across your pretty face as you smile for him. He takes his thumb and wipes some from your lips, which you promptly open to suck his thumb clean.

“I think you may have killed him, baby.” Togame points behind you, and you sit up and turn around, finding a completely passed-out Sakura. Arm draped across his eyes, chest rising and falling slowly with sleep.

“Poor guy,” you carefully drape a blanket over him, smiling fondly at the man, “you think he liked his gift?”

"Oh, baby, I don’t think he’ll ever forget this birthday.”

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Marley! Reader (Oneshot)

At the drop of a handkerchief

You're strolling through the streets of Marley, humming happily as you eye all the new vendor booths that have come to sell merchandise on this sunny afternoon.

Food, flowers, jewelry, everything you can imagine is here today, with vendors waving you over in an attempt to sway you to buy something.

Although nothing was catching your eye and you were about to call it a day and head home until...

The most beautiful creation stopped you in your tracks.

With your heart pounding and your cheeks flushing red, you lean behind the wall, trying to hide yourself as you take in such a beauty.

But this beauty is no object....this beauty is a person.

A beautiful man.

Skin as white and shiny as a pearl.

Hair as dark as the night.

Eyes as grey as metal.

This man was nothing you have ever seen before.

Quite literally. The suit he’s also wearing is not something you typically see the men of Marley wearing.

He must be from a different country. Which means it will be harder for you to convince him to stay, because there is no way you’re letting this magnificent creature escape you.

Surrounded by his own group of people, you’re anxiety and nerves tell you that you’re not brave enough to go interrupt their conversation to start a new one, so you’re left with no choice…

Smoothing your hair and outfit, you start walking towards him with your head held high.

As you look towards the blue sky, you tell the universe to let it be known if he is your soulmate or not during this test.

As you inch closer, you smile to yourself as the group notices your presence, and when you walk barely past the beautiful man, you slyly flick your wrist to release your handkerchief.

‘One duck, two duck, three duck…’ You count in your head to time how long the seconds pass as you continue walking.

“Oi! You!”

Time stands still as your heart pounds and you do a smooth swivel of your feet to turn around. Your breath hitches when the beautiful man is waving your handkerchief at you.

“You dropped this.” He tells you, his face showing no emotion.

A bit intimidated, you slowly walk over to him, but before you can reach out and grab your belonging, he crumples it in his hand.

“It’s too dirty now.” He grunts, and with his slim fingers, he digs into the front pocket of his dark blue suit.

“Here, you can have mine. It’s clean.” He says, holding a perfectly folded handkerchief out to you.

“O-oh! Ok!” With shaky hands, you grab it from him and gently hold it in your palm. “Thank you, sir. This is very sweet of you.”

Bowing your head slightly in thanks, you quickly turn on your heels and leave.

He watches you leave and Gabi scoffs.

“Gross. I can’t believe I just witnessed that.” She says with a gag.

Levi raises a brow. “What?”

“You fell for the oldest trick in the book.” Falco laughs lightly.

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about.” Levi clicks his teeth and leans against the wall, continuing to watch you walk further and further away.

Onyankopon smiles gently. “It’s something Marley women do to get a man’s attention. They act like they drop something in hopes you pick it up for them.”

Levi’s eyes widen in realization while Hanji bursts out laughing.

“No way, shorty! She had her eyes on you!” Hanji grins and slaps his shoulder.

Falco smiles while Gabi pretends to puke again. “And you gave her a new handkerchief. She’s probably planning your wedding right now.”

Connie gasps. “Captain! Are you going to go after her!”

Levi clicks his teeth. “No. I don’t have time for romance. We have more important matters to work on right now.” He looks away to hide his embarrassment.

Jean sneers and adjusts his hat. “I can’t believe the captain is the one getting all the women.”

As they continue to pester Levi, you watch from afar through a window in a bakery.

“Um, Miss…” The clerk comes up behind you, “You have to buy something to sit in here.”

You wave him off with a hush and go back to watching over your soul mate.

*the dropping of an item to catch the attention of a man was a real tactic used by women during the Victorian era

[latenightdaydreams]

I'm so desperate for Boxer Konig and reader. I imagine it would be like König fights every night for living in the ring and reader is bartender in that place, like it has a bar counter for drinks. Reader is his favorite bartender. ❤️❤️

Imagine being able to go to work and see him sweaty and shirtless everyday🤭💖

Boxer!König x Bartender (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, oral, public sex

2.2k

🥊

.

.

König watches you set up the bar out of the corner of his eye as he talks to his trainer, Horangi, before the fight. His eyes drift over how your black shirt hugs the curve of your breasts. The jeans you wore today shows off your stunning shape. Everything his trainer was saying fell on deaf ears. He already knows everything. He’s undefeated. Right now, he just wants to focus on you. How can you look so tantalizing when simply pouring buckets of ice?

“König.” Horangi snaps his fingers in his face. “Are you listening to me?”

“Ja, ja. I know it all already.”

Horangi shakes his head at König’s cocky attitude. His eyes follow König’s gaze landing on you, giving you a quick up down before turning back. “Focus.” His hand on König’s shoulder, he leads him away to the back to get ready.

As you turn your head, you watch König’s eyes drift from your form to the ground as he gets guided away. A small smirk crosses your lips. You always catch him checking you out, but he makes no moves.

The day goes on and people flood the arena and fill seats. A line begins to form as you and your fellow bartender work in sync to make sure all patrons' orders get filled. As you bend down to grab a bottle of grenadine, you hear König being announced in the ring. Quickly, you perk up and watch as König walks out in his boxer shorts with the Austrian flag on them. His opponent being a 6 '4 Russian man, while he’s massive, he’s no match for König.

König’s eyes land on you as you smile brightly at a man accepting a drink from your delicate hands. He shifts his gaze to his opponent as people in the crowd cheer for both men. König gazes down at him with his icy blue stare and a stoic face.

From behind the bar, your eyes drift down König’s muscular body, which is sporadically littered with scars. You watch the fight begin as you continue to pass out drinks and chat with patrons. When König takes a hard hit, you watch with a worried look, glancing away and focusing on the man before you asking for another beer.

At the end of the fight, König’s arm rises to celebrate another win. The crowd cheers loudly, the losers coming to the bar to close tabs or get stronger drinks. König stands on stage posing for the crowd with two ring girls on their side of him. He respectfully keeps his hands to himself, his eyes finding you at the bar. For a split second in time, you meet his gaze and he smiles at you. The smile you give back sets a fire within him. When he hears his name being called, he looks forward, stepping into another pose with the women before exiting the ring.

As the night winds down, you begin to clean the bar and restock for tomorrow. The girl you work with heading out early since she has a family to tend to. As your back is turned from the bar you can hear someone lean against the counter. You turn, expecting to see one of the lingering patrons, but instead it’s König. He’s wearing a black shirt with his boxer shorts still, a fresh bruise on his left cheek bone.

“Hey König.”

“Hallo.” He shamelessly drops his gaze down to your breasts before looking back into your eyes. He combs his fingers through his messy blonde hair.

“Congratulations on the fight.”

“Danke.” König leans into the counter more, eyeing you. “How was your night? It looked pretty busy over here.”  He has no idea how to flirt with you, he’s used to being cocky and the women tossing themselves at him. For some reason, you always make him nervous.

“Yeah, it was a good night for tips.” You smile and rest your palms on the counter top. “So, what can I get for you?”

“How about a celebratory shot?” He smirks.

“Coming right up.” You turn and grab the whisky you know he likes, pouring a shot for him before sliding it across to him.

You watch his Adam's apple bob as he takes the shot. His large hands wrap around the tiny glass making it appear much smaller. Once he places the glass back down, he turns his attention back to you.

“I saw you watching me.” He says in a semi flirty tone, testing the waters. “Did you enjoy the fight?”

“I did. It’s always exciting to watch you win.” You stroke his ego.

König smiles hearing your words. He watches as your turn to continue shutting down the bar. He knows every night you get hot water to melt the remaining ice so he stands, preparing to help you with the heavy bucket of water. Without asking, he grabs the bucket from your hand gently; his rough skin caressing yours slightly.

“I’ve got the water.” He says simply before walking off to fill it in the kitchen area.

“Oh, thank you.” As you watch him walk away you stand there suppressing a giddy smile. You turn and continue to clean the area.

König walks back with the bucket full of steaming hot water and carefully walks past you with it. He lifts it so effortlessly, pouring it over the remaining ice. Your eyes focus on the way his burly arms flex ever so slightly. He can definitely feel your stare, turning his head to see you looking at him.

You quickly look away feeling ashamed for getting caught looking. Trying to distract from the tension you walk away to the storage room to grab things needed to restock the bar for tomorrow’s fight. König’s eyes follow you as you walk away. He puts down the bucket and follows behind you.

The door closes behind you when you step into the room. You grab the step stool and walk to where the little toothpicks are stored. As you step up, you hear the door open and close. Before you can even turn around you feel his hands wrap around your waist.

“Now you’re closer to my height.” König whispers. On the step stool you come up to his chin now versus before you only reached his chest. Without getting you off balance, he leans you back so your back is pressed against his chest.

“König.” You giggle saying his name, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush as his arms embrace you.

“What?” König chuckles, enjoying the sound of your giggle. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and smells your sweat from a long day of working the bar.

A shiver runs down your spine and goosebumps rise on your skin as he presses his lips against your neck; his lips moist and tender against your flesh. Slowly, he moves his under your shirt, caressing your stomach and moving up until his hand cups your breasts through your bra. His kisses turn steamier as he gropes you.

“Do you know how distracting you are? You make it impossible to focus on my fights when all I can think of is touching your body like this.” His voice is dripping with a primal desire for your body.

König turns you around to face him, his hand slipping out from your shirt and holding your waist. His other hand caresses the side of your face, cupping it in his hand. “Beautiful.” He leans in and kisses your lips. A spark ignites throughout his whole body as he finally tastes your sweet lips.

Your hands rest on his muscular chest, eyes closed as you allow yourself to melt into the romantic embrace with König. His hand on your waist dropping down to your hip, pressing you closer to him so you can feel his erection.

“You drive me crazy, Schatzi. Do you want me?” His voice deeper as he leans back in to claim your lips in a sensual kiss.

“Mhm, yes.” You manage to mumble out.

König’s fingers reach down and begin to undo your pants. A wave of excitement rushes through your body but also a bit of nervousness. Public sex isn’t something you’ve ever done nor considered, especially not at your place of work. Yet, you don’t protest, letting him pull your pants down. Once they are around your thighs, his fingers instantly find your clit through the fabric of your underwear, making small circles to pull moans from you.

As he breaks the kiss he looks down at your face as you writhe in pleasure before him. His sleepy blue eyes glance down at your face, taking in how he is turning you into a puddle before him. The fabric of your panties damp, stirring a deep desire within him.

König wraps his arms around you, lifting you and walking you to press you up against a wall. He drops to his knees before you and pulls your pants down completely. Lifting one of your legs, he rests it over his shoulder. His lips press kisses over your clothed cunt, licking the wet spot and getting a taste of you. A quiet moan flees your lips, your eyes gazing down at him.

“You smell so… suß.” König says looking up at you.

A light heat spreads across your face, you’ve been busy on your feet so you know that the scent of your body wash has worn off. He just likes the way your naturally sweaty cunt smells, and for some reason that really turns you on.

The adrenaline for the fight mixes with the aroma wafting from your body, König becomes greedy and he just needs you. He pulls the wet fabric aside and swipes his tongue across your glistening folds, savoring the taste.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hold back anymore.” König quickly stands, his hands dropping his shorts quickly. His eyes dart around the room trying to figure out the best way to do this. His eyes look over your body for a moment. “Take them off.” He points to your underwear and you comply.

In a hurry, König grabs your wrist and pulls you to him. Your shirt is pulled off your body, tossed to the side as König looks at your full breasts in your black bra. He effortlessly lifts you, your legs resting in the crook of his arms. As he holds you, pressing your back against the wall, he takes his time to kiss your cleavage and admire just how gorgeous you truly are.

You can feel his cock lingering at the entrance of your vagina, slightly pressing in as he kisses and bites all over your breasts. He slowly inches forward with his hips until he can feel your welcoming warmth wrap around the tip of his cock. His low groan is met with your light moan. Your walls hug him tightly, fluttering as they adjust to his size.

“Fuck, y/n. You’re fucking…tight.” The word ‘tight’ comes out in a growl.

With your legs on his arms, he rests his hands on your back, hips slowly thrusting forward into you. His lips explore your tender flesh up to your mouth. He places soft kisses on your lips while mumbling sweet words to you in German that you don’t understand.

“Pull your bra down.” He demands as he watches your hands pull your breasts out of your bra. The fabric squeezes them together as they bounce lightly with each thrust.

He steps away from the wall and moves his hands down to your ass. His muscles flex as he bounces you on his cock. The feeling of your gummy cunt sending him into a trance like state, his eyes following the way your supple flesh ripples with every harsh thrust.

“König!” You moan out, almost yelling. His thick cock slams into you without mercy, fucking you senseless. Your nails dig into his arms as your eyes flutter back. “Please…”

König watches your face now, taking in every detail and savoring every sound. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well. Diese Muschi ist perfekt.”

“Yes.” You gasp out. “Please fuck me, König.”

“Das ist es, Baby.”

His blue eyes are now black from dilation. Hearing you beg for him triggered a primal instinct in him. You’re his. This is his pussy. He slams you down on his cock, making sure to stuff you with every single inch.

Horangi walks throughout the gym looking for König, he’s nowhere to be found. He walks out to the ring to see if maybe he went back out to just sit, still not there. As he glances around, he can hear a slapping sound in the distance, curious, he follows it.

The sound begins to mix with moans and loud dirty talk in German. König is fucking that bartender. Horangi runs his hand over his face and lets out a deep annoyed sigh. Now isn’t the time for König to become infatuated with this woman even further, which he knows he will be. Horangi stands there and listens to König’s whimpers and your borderline screaming. He decides to just walk away and let König finish, he will talk to him about this later.

[skzdarlings]

part i: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the next decade.

Companion series to my sharing the bed one-shot. Follows the relationship between reader&felix from beginning to end. It will be a multi-part series.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

-

One of your father’s disgruntled bodyguards shoves you for walking too slowly.  You have enough tenacity to glare at him when you stumble, but even at fourteen years old you are smart enough refrain from retaliation.   You know your father will not take your side as you are already in trouble for sneaking out last night.  You met with some school friends and attended a house party like a normal fourteen year old, a punishable offence because your life is anything but normal. 

You just hope this punishment is a physical one.  A few smacks might sting but you’ll get over it, whereas you don’t want to lose your already limited phone or computer privileges. 

You walk into your father’s office with the expectation you will be alone, so you stop short when you see the back of a stranger’s head. 

Your father’s guests are usually suited old men or pretty young women, not a beanie-wearing teenage boy.  He’s kicking his legs like he’s in an ice cream parlour and not in a chair across from one of the most powerful men in the country.  Your father is behind his desk, hands steepled and attention determinedly fixed on you.  Punishment time is the only time his attention is so rapt. 

The door closes behind you, the guard outside slamming it shut.  The boy in the chair looks over his shoulder at you.  He has a soft face, much too soft for a place like this, his cheeks sweetly freckled and mouth like a pretty pink bow.  He has dark eyes, his eyebrows the same shade of dark brown.  His hair has been dyed a strawberry blonde, bangs sweeping out from under the beanie.  He has to flick them out of his eyes as he looks you over.  

You stare at him.  A change in routine does not bode well for you and this is a massive change. 

The boy just smiles.  It is disarming in its sweetness and it petrifies you.  You know how to behave when an ugly brute glares at you but a pretty boy smiling is unnerving. 

Your father clears his throat.  You and the boy both look his way, the boy dropping his gaze in a subservient way while you glare. 

“Daughter,” your father says coolly.  He gestures to the free chair beside the boy. 

Some days, when you are feeling especially petulant or when your father is distracted with his phone even while meting out punishment, you will stomp your foot and refuse him.  Maybe it is your stunned bemusement, but today you oblige without argument. 

Your gaze drifts to the boy as you approach your seat.  The boy does not look at you.

He looks like a normal teenage boy, wearing a hoodie under a flannel and blue jeans ripped at the knee, but you know better.  There is always a flaw and this one is immediately jarring: his shoes are army regulation boots, the same as your father’s guards, albeit smaller.  You have no idea why he would need them.  He looks about your age and is a slender, delicate thing. 

“Sit,” your father says.   You realize you have standing there, staring.  You look at your father and obey, sinking into the other chair.  “Good.”  Your father folds his hands on his desk.  “My loving daughter,” he says dryly, “It has occurred to me that your present circumstances are not the most conducive to your development and well-being.”

You cannot help but scoff.  Talk about understatement of the century.   

The security teams?  The constant surveillance? The knowledge that your wealthy father has accrued so many enemies that you can barely step outside without feeling threatened?

The fact you desperately want something bad to happen, because at least it would be different than the bad in here? 

Your father just frowns.

“Don’t test my patience,” he says.  “Especially as I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.” 

Your brow furrows.  You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it. 

“I only want what’s best for you,” your father says.  “You’re my daughter, after all.  My only child and my only heir.  I want you protected but I want you capable, and you can’t be expected to thrive with the company of my men constantly surrounding you.” 

Your heart kicks up with hope even while your brain knows better.  Your father is not a generous man and he is clever with his words.  There is a reason he has reached the heights he has reached.  No one is better than your father and your father settles for no less than the best in turn. 

You are an agonizing disappointment, but you lash out because you would be a disappointment regardless.  Your father does not want a human daughter but a plastic doll that he can lock away until it has use, at which point he expects unending gratitude for your very existence.    

This might sound like a concession of freedom but you know him better than that.  The vice is tightening, not loosening.  You will never be free. 

“I have a gift for you,” your father says.  “This is Felix.” 

You and the boy, Felix, look at each other.  Felix smiles again.  He has the audacity to wave at you, a little salute and cutesy tip of the head. 

Your nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath.  You look at your father. 

“What is this?” you ask, so much wrong with this scenario that you don’t know where to start.

Your father smiles for the first time since you walked in the room.  He needs to be in the position of highest power and that is obtained through making everyone else small.  The more visibly uncomfortable you are, the more at ease he feels.  He slouches comfortably in his big chair as he stares you down.  You feel trapped in the little seat across his desk.    

“This,” your father says, “is your new bodyguard.” 

You look at Felix again.  He is once more looking at your father like an obedient little puppy.  It’s for the best as you are certain your expression is betraying every single thought.  You are angry, confused, frightened.  The confusion worsens your other emotions. 

“Bodyguard,” you repeat.  “He looks like he’s twelve.” 

“I’m fourteen,” Felix says, startling you with a deep voice that does not remotely match his face.  The rounder sounds are accented with an Australian twang.   “Same as you.” 

You look at each other again.  You hide your confusion under a piercing glare.  Felix draws his mouth into a flat line, not quite smiling, not quite frowning.   He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, a mismatched rhythm, some song only he can hear.   His leg bounces. 

You look at your father. 

“Fourteen,” you say.  “And short.  And skinny.  Look at him!  I could throw him out a window!”

“You could try,” your father says, drole.  “You wouldn’t succeed.  Oh, hush.”  He swipes a hand through the air when you open your mouth to speak again.  “Felix is more than competent, believe me.”  

Your father would not hire a second rate bodyguard, but there is simply no way this Felix kid is good for anything.  You just can’t believe it.  This is a test of some kind, maybe a mind game. 

Your hackles are up and they won’t come down.  Felix flicks some hair out of his eyes and the motion makes you jump.  He doesn’t comment.  He clears his throat and sits a little straighter, looking like every goody-two-shoes keener you ever gave a sneer. 

“You will no longer require a full security detail,” your father says.  “Not at home or at school.  No where, barring certain occasions under my discretion.”   

This has your heart racing again.  Currently, your father has guards posted in several places around your school.  No one but the school administrators know they are for you, but that doesn’t matter because you know.  You know they are not general security, that they are specifically watching your every move.  If you skip a meal or eat too much, they know.  If you talk to one person and not another, they know.  If you forget to do homework or flunk a test, they know.  If you put on more make-up or roll up your skirt, they know.  If you fall, if you laugh, if you flirt, if you breathe a little too hard, they know, and they report it all back to your father. 

It doesn’t end there.  They keep you on a schedule for your “protection” and if you stray from that agenda, they are on you.  That means no chatting too long after class, no extended bathroom breaks, no stopping to smell a fucking flower.  In the car, out the car, through the doors, at your seat, at your locker, upstairs, downstairs, fuck, fuck, fuck.  How you’ve lasted this long, not even you know. 

You spend all day suffocating under the extension of your father’s eyes, then you return home, flanked by bodyguards, only to be stuck with supervision until you are finally permitted to go to bed.  Naturally, this is the easiest time to escape so you are in the habit of breaking out at night.  You’re good at it too.  Most nights you move without any detection, having memorized all the chinks in the mansion’s high-tech security armor.  Last night was the result of some bad luck. 

Now you are here, your heart racing, your breath catching. 

It must be a trick.  You look at Felix then your father, trying to hide your eagerness and your suspicion. 

“In exchange, you will have Felix,” your father says.  “He will attend school with you as a classmate.  He is in all your classes and extra-curriculars.  You are to keep him with you at all times of day.  He will accompany you everywhere at all times of day.”  Your father leans in.  “Do you understand that?  At all times of day.”   

It does not sound too different from the security team other than the obvious fact there is only one of Felix.  Even if Felix is the most skilled bodyguard in the world, he is still just one person.   It seems too good to be true so it must be.   Your father is waiting until you are comfortable so he can rip the rug out from under you, to put you in your place, which is flat on your back like a stupid, helpless, needy baby.    

You will not give him the satisfaction.  Curtly, you say, “I understand.”

“Good,” your father says.  “I’m having a new bed installed in your bedroom as we speak.  It should be ample space for two people without your privacy being overly encroached.  When you get home, you will clear a space for Felix to move his things into your room.” 

Despite your effort to remain neutral, obvious surprise blinks across your face. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, darting forward in your seat.  “What are you talking about?”

Your father tips his head as if perplexed with your outburst. 

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” he asks.  “Constantly sneaking out at night, evading my men.  Do you know every time you pull a childish stunt like that, it endangers me and my business just as much as you?”

Your anger bubbles to the surface as quickly as his, cold laughter punching out of you as you say, “Oh! Your business!  Of fucking course!”

“Don’t use vulgar language with me, child!”

“Don’t call me a child!” you snap back with as much fervour.  “I’m fourteen years old!  I’m not a little kid and I don’t need some other idiot kid babysitting me!  I don’t need anyone fucking watching me!” 

Felix is sitting ramrod straight, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and your father.  He says nothing.  He just sniffs and scratches a little circle on the exposed skin of his knee. 

“You are my daughter, this is my house, and I will do with both as I please,” your father says. 

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in this house!” you shout. 

“You want to leave?” your father asks.  He smacks a vicious hand down on his desk, rattling his computer.  “Go ahead.  Pick yourself up and walk out that door.  Where are you going to go from here?  You have no money and no skills and no protection.  See how long it takes someone to pick you up off the street.  You don’t want to be my daughter?  You want me to ignore you when they put a gun to your head?  The least they will do is kill you, you stupid little thing.  But go on, since you’re so wise and brave and all grown-up.  Walk out that door.  I dare you.”      

You sit on the very edge of your seat, your hands balled into fists.  You long to swing them at his smug face but you can only sit there, vibrating with rage. 

“Do you have something more to say?” your father asks. 

You kick his desk, the adrenaline forcing it out of you.  He smacks a mug and it smashes on the floor.  Felix still does not react, though his gaze does linger on the broken mug. 

“What about him!” you shriek, pointing at Felix.  It draws his attention back to you, his eyebrow lifting at your pointed finger.  “You’re going to leave me alone with a boy?  In bed?”  You imbue this exclamation with all the suggestive horror you can.  “I can’t share a room with a boy!  What if he’s a pervert!   What if he takes pictures of me!  What if he rapes me!  You really trust some random boy to be alone with me?!”

The silence that follows is somehow more shrill than the yelling.  Your father stares at you, resolutely focussed with such a cold glare that you shiver. 

Felix shuffles in his seat.  His mouth opens and he looks contemplative, weighing his words, but your father speaks before he can. 

“Felix,” he says, “put your hand on the desk.” 

Felix delays only seconds, more surprised by the order than reluctant.  He obediently rests his hand on the desk, palm facing up. 

Without looking away from you, your father grabs that hand and flips it over.  Felix jerks, his feet planting, but he manages to restrain whatever instinct rattled him.  He looks at his hand, at where your father pins it to the wood. 

You look there too, fuming, then you look at your father.  He is still glaring at you, even when he reaches into his desk.  Your brow furrows when he retrieves an enveloper opener, a sleek little knife, shiny and sharp.  He smacks it onto the table beside Felix’s hand.  It makes you jump.    

Felix just looks at the knife, tipping his head as if only mildly curious.   

“Felix,” your father says. “Pick up that knife.”  He leans back in his desk chair and crosses his arms, his expression bland and uncaring as he looks at you.  You shake less from fury than fear, looking from your father to Felix. 

Felix picks up the knife with his free hand.  He looks at it, his expression revealing nothing. 

“Thank you,” your father says. 

He has not looked away from you even once, asserting his knowledge that Felix will obey without his supervision.  You try to be as steadfast as him.  You act like you couldn’t care less about the unknown boy and his freckles and beanie.  This is between you and your father.  You glare just as fiercely.  

“Now, Felix,” your father says, “I am going to count down from three, then you are going to drive that knife into your hand.  All the way through to the desk.  I trust you know the spot that will do the least lasting damage.” 

Your gaze whips from your father to Felix, staring at him wide-eyed as the stupid boy doesn’t even flinch.  He just turns the knife over.  His brow briefly pinches as he rests the tip of the knife against a soft spot on the back of his hand. 

Your horrified brain is already several paces ahead, picturing his bloodied hand pinned to the wooden desk.  You taste bile and it is only partially for the gore.  The rest is for the fact Felix does nothing more than blink at his hand. 

“Three,” your father says.  “Two.” 

You scream, “Stop!” at the same your father says, “One.”

You tackle Felix.  The adrenaline flies out of you the same as that kick.  The knife clatters to the desk and both your chairs fly out from under you. 

Felix is fast.  He flips you around so he takes the brunt of the fall, your head pillowing on his stomach when you land in a tangled heap on the floor.  His beanie falls off when his head hits the ground.  He barely winces, looking down at you. 

You stare back at him, breathing hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you ask.  Tears fill your eyes, much to your horror.  You try to suck them in because there is nothing you hate more than crying in front of your father.   You don’t even know what is prompting the tears.  Maybe it’s the forced recollection of how thoroughly his guards have invaded your life, the revelation that you will be forced to share every living moment with another intruder, or the fact he almost maimed a fourteen year old boy just to make a point. 

Or, maybe, the fact you fell for it like you always do.  Just a stupid little girl, high in her emotions, vulnerable and weak and in need of intervention. 

You push away from Felix, directing all your emotions at him. 

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you say, spitting when you talk.  “What did you think you were doing?  Freak.  Do you think you’re brave?  You’re an idiot.”

Felix props himself up on his elbows, just staring back at you.  His gaze flicks up when your father stands.  That awful man circles the desk to look down at you. 

You refuse to look up.  You wipe your arm under your nose.  Tears blur your vision.

“Felix,” your father says, “there is a car waiting outside.  Take my daughter home.  She is not to leave the house tonight.” 

You wrench your arm away when Felix tries to help you up.  He says nothing to your glare but at least he’s smart enough not to smile again.  He gets up and dusts off his pants, then retrieves his beanie.   You clamber to your feet and march toward the door without looking back or waiting.  Only when your hand is on the doorknob does your father call your name. 

You freeze, wanting so badly to ignore him and storm outside, but once the coldness settles in your veins you cannot move. 

“Come here,” your father says.  As if under a spell, you can only move when he demands it.  You turn, facing him as he approaches.   You hold still, your eyes full of tears and fists curled at your side. 

Your father walks up and swiftly strikes you across the face.  Tears spill over and you grab your cheek, heaving with frightened breath as your useless new bodyguard just stands there and watches. 

Your father sighs. 

“You’ll learn,” he says.  “One way or another.  If I have to chip at you with an axe until you take my shape, I’ll do it.  You’ll thank me one day.  Felix.  Take her home.  Now.” 

You let Felix take your arm and guide you out of the room, too drained to fight him.   

-

You refuse to be accommodating.  If you’re unhappy then you will make Felix unhappy too, and if Felix is unhappy then maybe he will leave.  Then your father will be unhappy and you finally won’t be.     

You glare at the massive new bed taking up space in your room.  It is still a big room otherwise, with plenty of space for two people, but your things are spread out everywhere and you have no intention of moving them.  Instead, you empty out a single bedside drawer and point to it. 

“There,” you say.  “That’s yours.”

Felix is standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a backpack.  He looks around the room, not sneering at its lacey, ivory princess-ness but not looking too enamoured either.  He is passive as ever, quietly receiving his surroundings.  He closes the door behind himself and shrugs the backpack down to the crease of his elbow. 

“Kk,” he says.  He puts his backpack on the floor by the bed then takes off his beanie and puts it in the drawer.  He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap.  He stares at the wall. 

What a weirdo. 

You stare at him until he looks at you, then you scoff and roll your eyes.  You dump your things on your desk and stalk over to your private bathroom door.   

“Can I go pee without your supervision, or do you need to hold my hand?” you ask sarcastically. 

“I don’t need to,” Felix says, “but, uhhh, I guess I can if you need help.  But if you have a problem with doing it by yourself then we should probably take you to a doctor.  I know first aid but I can’t really help with incontinence or like the opposite. Lol.” 

He says the word lol out loud, a single grating syllable.  You do not dignify his weird humour with a response.  You stomp into your bathroom and slam the door shut.   

There are bars on the bathroom window now.  You grab the nearest bottle of soap and chuck it there, furious when tears spring back to your eyes.  You feel violated even in your privacy, glaring at those bars as you shower and wash away the day. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror, touching where your cheek feels tender from your father’s strike.  He usually doesn’t hit your face or anywhere someone could see swelling or a cut.  You suppose today’s slap was more personal than strategic.

You put on a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants.  When you step back into your room, the weirdo is standing at the window with his hands behind his back.  He is wearing just his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, plus those ugly army boots.  He looks at you when you open the door, giving you a brief assessing stare before he smiles. 

It would disarm someone more naïve.  You just glare. 

“Where are your things?” you ask. 

He tips his head like an inquisitive cat.  “Huh?” he asks.

“Your things,” you say venomously.  “Aren’t you moving them in here?” 

“Uh, I did,” he says.  He turns and points to his side of the bed.  “You gave me a drawer, remember?”

This kid unpacked a beanie. 

Maybe it’s a good sign he isn’t fully moving in.  Maybe this whole charade is just your father threatening you.  He will torture you with this invader until he thinks you have learned a lesson, then things will go back to normal.  Felix probably isn’t even a proper bodyguard, and how could he be?  A skinny, pretty fourteen year old boy?  He’s probably an actor or model or something. 

You give him a derisive smirk and shove past him.  He just shrugs and approaches the bathroom door, pausing before entering.  He looks back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” he says, then walks into the bathroom and closes the door. 

You exhale sharply.  You had no intention of going anywhere, honestly too exhausted to do anything but putter around on the computer, but fuck this kid.  He’s your father’s paid actor or some other nonsense, so who does he think he is to give you any orders? 

You storm out of the room with the intention of marching around outside, but you stumble when you enter the upstairs corridor.  

The huge house is eery in its silence.  You shudder as you look around.  

Even when your father is not home, the security team is here.  Someone is always awake, at least one person keeping guard in the corridor, the rest of them scattered in the house and guest house.  But they’re gone.  They’re all genuinely gone.  And because it is late evening, all the housekeepers and cleaners are gone too.  You have not been in a house this empty your entire life.  It feels uncanny, ghostly even.  It completely halts your half-baked plan to leave, not that you planned on going much further than the pool-house.

You stand still, suspended in the unfamiliar emptiness.    

“Whatcha doin’?”  Felix’s freaky deep voice is suddenly right beside you.  You jump away from with a startled squeak.  He just stands there, his mouth in that stupid flat line, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing when he tips his head. 

“Nothing,” you snap, annoyed that he scared you.  “I’m just going to the kitchen for a snack.  Is that against the fucking law now?”    

“It’s not really healthy to eat this late at night,” Felix says, “but it’s not illegal.  That would be weird.”

“I hate you,” you say.  His even temperament has been driving you insane, so it is satisfying to see a flicker of genuine surprise on his face.  “Just leave me alone.” 

“Sorry,” he says, recovering quickly.  His voice is steady.  “Can’t do that.  Sort of my job, you know?”

You roll your eyes then turn and stomp all the way down the stairs.  Felix trails behind you without protest, not making much noise despite the boots but he is impossible to ignore regardless. 

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge.  You aren’t hungry but you feel like you have to eat something now just to prove a point.  

Felix ambles up to the counter and perches himself on a stool.  You look over your shoulder at him.  He waves. 

“I’m not making you anything,” you snap. 

“That’s fine.”  He folds his hand on the counter.  “I’m not hungry.  Thank you.” 

You reach into the fridge and grab an eggplant out of the produce drawer.  It is a ridiculous response, but you decide to out-weird the weirdo, making eye contact as you bite in the raw eggplant.  You try to hide your displeasure, chewing the thick vegetable slowly.  Felix tips his head very far then straightens.  His eyes narrow. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s toxic,” he says. 

You stop chewing. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “Eggplant, yeah.  I think when it’s raw it’s like not good for you or something?  I think there’s like a chemical in it.  Maybe it’s only if you eat a lot of it, uhhh, I don’t know.  Just in case, I wouldn’t eat it like that if I were you.” 

You stare at him with a chunk of raw eggplant still on your tongue.  He could be bluffing.  He could be playing mind games.  He could be telling the truth, since he delivered each sentence so uncertainly.  Maybe he’s just bad at mind games.  You’re good at them.  You’ve been playing them since you were a child, so you just stare him down, swallow the eggplant, then take another bite. 

His brow furrows.  You are pretty sure your displeasure is a little more obvious now, your mouth partially open as you chew.   Felix did not balk at stabbing his own hand but he looks very scandalized right now.   You consider it a success. 

“Stop it,” Felix says. 

You take another bite, ripping into it with a ferocious tear. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.  “What? Are you trying to commit suicide by eggplant?”

You just shrug, chewing with your mouth wide open now.   His stool scrapes the ground and you brace yourself, shuffling in the opposite direction when he circles the kitchen island. 

“Spit it out,” he says. 

“No,” you say, spitting eggplant as you say it.  You very nearly choke. 

“Seriously,” Felix says.  “This isn’t funny.” 

You chew obnoxiously big in his direction and he pounces, smoothly intercepting your escape.   He cages you in against the counter, blocking you when you try to move. You drop the rest of the eggplant and push at him, dribbling mushy vegetable and cursing through your mouthful. 

“Spit. It. Out,” he says, putting his hand under your mouth like a mother to a baby.  You shove that hand away, then try to shove his face away.  He clearly doesn’t want to get too physical with you, but eventually he grabs your chin and holds you still, your face pinched in his hand.   You stare at him, breathing hard through your nose.  “Stop it,” he says. 

The house is empty.  The house is genuinely, seriously, completely empty.   Your father trusts Felix that much. 

Who is this fucking kid? 

You spit the eggplant at him.  It spatters on his shirt and wins you an eye roll.  It’s the first expression from him to make you smile. 

“Bed time,” he says, stepping back to brush the mess off his shirt. 

You cross your arms and lean against the counter.  “No,” you say. 

“No?” he asks.  His deep voice fractures with a higher-pitched sound of surprise.   “Why not?” 

Because you hate your father and everything he puts you through.  Because petty victories are your only victories.  Because there is something seriously wrong with Felix if this is his life situation, and there is something seriously wrong with you for the same reason. 

So you shrug.  “Make me,” you say. 

There is a beat of silence.

Then the world is upside down because Felix picks you up and slings you over his shoulder.  You cry out, slapping his back as he marches to the stairs.  Where is he even hiding this strength? 

“Put me down!”  You pound on his backside while he carries you up the stairs.  “When my father hears about this—”

He puts you down on the landing, swinging up a step to afford him an extra foot of height over you.  He holds your wrist in his hand and looks at you very seriously. 

“What?” he asks.  “When he hears about me doing my job?” 

You try to tug your hand back but Felix holds it tight.

“Are you serious right now?” you ask.  You continue to squirm your hand in his grip.  “Who the fuck are you?  What do you even get out of this?” 

“What do you get out of this - this - everything?” he asks.  

“I get my life,” you snap.  “In pieces and only for a little bit, but mine.”

“Me too,” he says. 

A breathless silence follows.  You realize you are holding his hand, having twisted and turned so much that he clasped your fingers with his.   You both look there then at each other.  You abruptly let go. 

“Can we go to bed?”  Felix asks, softening his voice.  “Please.” 

Your lower lip wobbles.  You look at the stain on his shirt.  You think about his hand on that desk. 

“And what about my other question?” you ask. 

He tips his head again, but his expression is no longer neutral.  He wears his confusion openly, briefly but substantially. 

“What?” he asks. 

“My other question,” you say, blinking back your tears.  “Who are you?” 

“You tell me first,” he says.  “Who are you?” 

It’s easier to fight and scream than plainly express yourself.  No one ever listens, so you are not practiced.  You have Felix’s undivided attention but it suddenly feels like too much.  You do not have it in you to glare anymore.  You meet his pained gaze with your own and join him on the next step. 

“I’m tired,” you say.  “Let’s go to bed.” 

He goes to check the security system while you get ready for bed.  You are already nestled under the covers, shivering despite the thick layers because the house sounds so quiet and you are honestly scared.  You jump when the door opens and Felix enters, your eyes meeting in the dim light.  He looks away first, going about his own routine.  You turn your back to him. 

The bed is big but you still feel it dip when he gets inside.  You look over your shoulder.  He is laying on his back with his eyes closed.  He is clearly still awake but the semblance of sleep accentuates the natural innocence of his face.  You have seen the flicker of a few deeper emotions, none of them childish, but he looks his age while laying there. 

His eyes open.  He glances at you.  You wonder what you look like to him. 

“Good night,” he says, shattering the terrifying silence. 

You don’t argue it.  You just nod then turn away, closing your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep faster than usual. 

[sanjisblackasswife]

OP Men With a Girlfriend with a Fat Ass. (Black Fem! Reader)

Ft. Monster Trio, Kid, Law, Ace, & Shanks

A/N: Yeah boobs are great…but nobody talks about anime dudes loving ass like commonnnnnnnnn. + I think women in OP don’t have big butts. Like…they have the tits sure and Ik they have A FORM of a butt but like…they ain’t got a fat asssssss

CW: A whole lotta nonsense.

Luffy

You are the sole reason he is a butt guy rather than a boob guy

He likes having you walk in front of him for obvious reasons

He doesn’t realize how much he stares though it’s kinda just subconsciously a thing he does with no shame behind it

Your butt has a literal mind of its own when you walk and it’s just mesmerizing to him

He never touches it though

On purpose

When Luffy hugs you he mostly enjoys wrapping his arms around your hips and thighs and lowers himself to pretty much hug your butt with his face

You remember when Luffy had to hide under Boa’s coat and his body was wrapped around her body—-yeah like that that’s how he hugs you from behind

It’s so soft pls let him bite it.

There was a few times you caught him staring and he’d laugh it off scratching the back of his head before you almost scold him for not paying attention as you talked

If you both are sexual in your relationship your ass is something he holds dear when sleeping with you.

Luffy grinds on ur soft and plush butt while you both are sleeping, at first you couldn’t sleep because of this but you’ve somehow gotten used to his erratic thrust against your ass

When you lay on your stomach and watches you shift just to see your butt jiggle

He’s so amazed on how it still moves even after you stopped shifting

All in all Luffy loves dat ass.

Zoro

Ass eater fasho

Look at him.

Booty Hunter Zoro

He loves the booty more than anything else on you.

He was actually shocked on how fat your ass really was when you stood naked in front of him the first time KSHSSHS

You always wore jeans and they were so so tight (still looked good in them though) he just didn’t register HOW BIG your butt really was

“Fuck, you have a fat ass, babe.”

HE SLAPS IT SO HARD

And he SLAPS IT ALOT so be prepared

He doesn’t care either how much it hurts he loves watching it jiggle afterwards

Like sir excuse me you left a mark

Absolutely sleeps on it when you both nap.

Zoro is another one that just stares at you when you walk across the ship

Lord help you if you wear a sun dress

You have almost all thongs so when you wear looser clothing your butt is free to move how it likes

Makes you do mostly leg workouts to watch you squat

Swears you’re doing it wrong just to be behind you when you do it

“No, Y/N you have to go lower like this.”

“Get Ya dick Off me!”

He does ask you such stupid ass questions about it though

“So it’s not heavy when you fight?”

“Zoro what the hell are you talking about.”

“All of…that you’re carrying behind there.”

Mf…

Sitting on his face or eating it from the back once is a must if you want to use his mouth

“Imma suffocate you.”

“It’s okay i can hold my breath really long.”

Zoro is a Ass man and you just made it worse so congratulations

Kid

Same as Zoro. Eats dat ass for breakfast, lunch, and dindin

He enjoys watching you put on pants

“Something you need?”

“Just enjoying the show.”

He thinks your butt is nothing but temptation and something to distract him

Blames you for it completely because how dare you.

“PUT THAT AWAY!”

“WHAT?!”

“THAT BUTT OF YOURS I CANT FOCUS WITH IS SHAKING IN MY FACE ALL DAY—“

“HELLO—?!”

He has caught Killer watching. Killer tries to say he wouldn’t know because of his mask, but he know he’s looking right at your butt sway back and fourth

He uses it as a stress ball sometimes KSBSJSKS

Actually compares your butt with his

“Mine is bigger.”

“You mean flatter.”

“I hate you.”

Sanji

Definition of “Don’t know what to do with all that ass.”

When he first met you he of course adorned your beauty. Granted you always worn baggier clothing than the rest of the girls on the ship, since you were a bit heavier and insecure Sanji didn’t give af about that anyways he still liked you, but after the 2 years you loss some weight and gained the strength and confidence you always deserved and finally started to wear more revealing clothing and which revealed your true shape.

“Y/N-Y/N SAN YOUR BODY IS—-YOUR BUTT IS SO—“

Bleeding on sight. You were wearing some cut shorts with a tied shirt and the shorts cupped your round butt so beautifully.

Crush him with your thighs and butt pls

When you walk you tend to sway your hips a lot making your butt move and it catches his attention so fast all he wants to do is rub it :((

He gets hard a lot when you wear bikinis

NEEDS a reason to touch your lower half at least once a day or he’ll combust.

“Would you like me to rub sun screen on you, my princess?”

His lotioned hands always tease around your smooth fatty cheeks when he massages you

Speaking of massages he gives you one every night and that either leaves him a horny mess or fucking into you from the back

You shook your ass on him once while dancing and he just COULD NOT handle what he seen and bled on you

“Please do me the honor of sitting on my face.”

Okay so…there was this one time Sanji fucked you in the kitchen and he asked if he could try something knew and you said okay, he bent you over and poured honey on your ass and licked it up.

You were shocked and turned on all at once.

When you wear skirts you’re such a damn tease to him the way the back of it always ends up shorter than the front and it always hits the bottom of your cheeks so beautifully

VERY PROTECTIVE BTW

Immediately kicks around mfs that say anything derogatory about your shape

“She has to be a slut with a body like t—-“

One to the head now you know he dead

Yeah Sanji and the rest of the OP boys do not play about people talking about your body. It’s theirs for a reason who is anybody allowed to talk crap about it?

Law

He’s more of a thigh man but since you’re natural best believe you have those to match with them two beach balls you got back there

He always under estimates how you look in clothing.

“I don’t think this will fit—“

“It will It’s Just your unifo—-oh.”

Ass is still sitting pretty in a jumper.

Law’s stupid ass tends to read about bodies with larger mass of fat on specific areas and if it’s normal

NOT TO BE MEAN HE LOVES YOUR BODY HE JUST WANNA MAKE SURE YOURE COMFORTABLE AND HEALTHY PLS

He cuddles the butt and if your have stretch marks or cellulite he traces /pokes them with his fingers

“Stop that!”

“Your ass moves even when you talk, fuck..”

Absolutely cannot handle you doing reverse cowgirl

Cumming in minutes you didn’t even properly adjust to his size

He taps or plays with the fat of your thigh when he is in thought. So much so there is a small bruise that formed because he always did it in the same area

Wants you to sit on his face, but embarrassed to ask

DO NOT HOVER OVER HIS FACE HE HATES THAT SIT ON HIM.

You did it and he did the most obnoxious moan inside you

Makes you wear nothing but your panties when you both are alone.

Ace

“Suffocate me with your thighs please I don’t want to be alive anymore.”

He uses your butt as a punching bag sometimes KSHSHSISK

Like you’ll be looking the other way talking to him and he’ll be behind you lightly punching each cheek for his own amusement

He wants you to wear his shorts so bad???

“I can’t fit them.”

“You can—look they stretch!”

He just plays with your butt a lot and like 90% of the time it isn’t even sexual he just loves the fat of your ass sm.

He thinks you look like a mf goddess with how your body moves when you dance

He absolutely loves when you ride him but he does it in front of a mirror so he can watch your wet ass bounce in him.

“Stop Doing that or imma sit on you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

When he hugs you from behind he tends to dry hump you and sometimes you don’t notice KSHSHSKS

Falls asleep on your ass

Has thought about eating your ass

He just really loves your ass

Shanks

So. Many. Butt jokes.

He was drunk and barged into your room one night to find you laying on your stomach in your panties reading and kissed your ass

“Wha—?”

“I was craving something for my tooth so I kissed your butt…cuz you have such a sweet ass.”

You hate this man sm.

You have to sit on his lap once a day or he’ll pout. Literally pout all day.

Rubs your butt constantly when he is beside you.

Doesn’t give af who is watching because who gone stop him?

Another ass eater

HATES when other men look at your ass.

That’s his ass who tf are they to look and gawk over it?

Would prefer if you wore No panties when you wore skirts

Makes stupid excuse for you to bend over a lot

Absolute menace because he in fact an ass man

You’re actually the first woman he has been with with an ass like yours so when he sees it he sometimes gets flustered you never see it though.

Unlike Law doggy style and reverse cowgirl is the go tos. Your jiggly booty is his new treasure.

Dry humps you sm you swear he’s like a dog in heat.

When you guys go shopping he likes to be in the dressing room with you to watch you struggle to put on pants.

“Baby did you get the right size these feel too small?”

“No.”

“WHY?”

“Cuz look..” -casually pokes the fat that couldn’t get in the pants.- “sexy.”

[mysteria157]

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

| Twitter | Ao3 | Masterlist | Moment One | Moment Three...Eventually

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come. 

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her. 

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you? 

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?” 

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams. 

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can. 

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)—LISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Glynis Johns:

She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."

"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"

"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"

"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."

"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"

"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."

"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"

Mermaid clip:

Court Jester (sharing a bed trope):

Court Jester (seducing the king):

"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

[angstics]

i finally articulated my opinion on my "is gerard way doing drag" question. my definition of drag is when a person impersonates, exaggerates, or appropriates a mode of gender expression. drag can be artistic or political (or both). drag can be an identity. drag and transgender identity are confused as the same thing. for some, it is. what is considered cross dressing can also be considered drag. it's important to note that drag is essential to queer culture, and how the us government harasses queer people through cross dressing, and now anti-drag, laws. we wouldnt be here talking about pop artists doing drag without drag performers and nonbinary-trans-gnc people.

to some people, a self-identified man in a female-identified dress is drag. "cross dressing" depends on cishet norms. queer people, especially nonbinary-trans-gnc people, have called to dismantle the assignment of gender to clothing. under that lens, a man in a dress is just a man in a dress -- for it to be drag, context and intent matters. that's how you get women doing female drag, or androgynous people doing what gerard way's been doing this last year on tour.

in asking "is gerard way doing drag?", im assigning importance to the topic. does it matter? within my understanding, drag is about intent and context as much as gender presentation. intent and context is what makes something important. therefore: understanding why the question is important solves it.

male music artists have a long history of cross dressing and doing drag. there's a good chance plugging any dude into a search engine with "drag" or "skirt" will bring something up. bowie, queen, nirvana, manic street preachers, placebo. here's a list. newer artists: lil nas x, harry styles, anthony green, pete wentz, young thug. some are impersonating female caricatures, some are masculinizing female clothes (long, ill-fitting, straight). some, like molko and lil nas, wear feminine clothes without exaggerating or masculinizing. gerard is in that same grey area.

male music artists have a long history of cross dressing and doing drag -- photos: "i want to break free" mv by queen (1984) / placebo in london (oct 1998) / lil nas x at audacy beach festival (dec 5, 2021) / fall out boy at rock for people (june 17, 2022)

all that history is why it was so weird when kerrang called gerard's riot fest "dress and heels" "a compelling show of contrarian anti-rock star eccentricity". it is not anti-rock star, at least not as described. it may be compelling, contrarian, and eccentric, but no reviewer really cares to analyze why. the closest they get is by identifying non-binary connection (them.us) and its relation to the "minefield that is American gender politics today" (latimes.com).

fans were struck by way's outfits for a lot of other reasons.

1. we have to get it out of the way that they just looked hot -- gerard is perpetually attractive, skirts are pretty. easy equation.

2. he has a long history of gender nonconformity. more on that in my #mcr queer studies tag. gerard is a 45 year old famously androgynous person who doesnt do labels, aligns himself with gender nonconformity (2014 reddit ama, 2018 advocate article, 2015 he/they tweet), and doesnt seem to care to be known as a man.

3. the tour outfits were well-fitted. many were crafted by skilled designer marina toybina and her team. which leads to ->

4. the outfits were very casual and very feminine. as mentioned, most men opt for masculine, ill-fitting skirts. which is to say they are NOT showing leg and they are definitely not showing ass. gerard doesnt steer clear from shortness or tightness or movement. he also dresses in ways people dress day to day -- the miniskirt is as casual as the shorts as casual as the jeans. there's some discussion to be had about what casual means -- he could be imitating expected presentation or just using basics, like his frequent shirt and pants.

the miniskirt is as casual as the shorts as casual as the jeans -- photos: firefly music festival (sept 23, 2022) / uncasville (sept 1, 2022) / eden project night 1 (may 16, 2022)

5. there was variety. many outfits, many types. he wasnt just doing pure femininity. some looks were high concept, some low concept. some gendered, some genderless. some feminine, some masculine. it was playful. its honesty evident in its fluidity yet cohesiveness. expanded in the next points ->

6. they incorporate elements of masculinity and gender neutrality concurrent with the feminine. his aggressive, energetic performance style often doesnt mind what people are seeing when his skirt lifts or shirt droops. he has little to no make-up -- if he does, it's stage and not glam. the closest he gets is the agender black swan look at boston night 1, the stage contour at wwwy night 3, and dubious lipstick at firefly. he also maintains the same hairstyle: barely styled, not straightened-curled. pinned a few times, gelled back some other times.

he has little to no make-up -- if he does, it's stage and not glam -- photos: boston night 1 (sept 7, 2022) / when we were young night 3 (oct 29, 2022) / firefly music festival (sept 23, 2022)

7. the character outfits weren't caricatures, like green's sleazy hooker or queen's uptight housewives. gerard's characters were appropriated but not exaggerated. cheerleader, nurse, manson girl, jackie o, princess diane, st joan. all figures of pop culture. he wore them as they were. even comparing green and way's similar white-green cheerleader costumes there's a difference in presentation. green wears long leggings, way wears shorts. green's costume is based on a stranger things character, way's is a custom remade vintage outfit. green exhibits the masculinization of feminine clothes which way subverts. this comparison highlights what makes way's outfits different, and therefore exciting to talk about.

green exhibits the masculinization of feminine clothes which way subverts -- photos: saosin in garden grove, ca (oct 27, 2022) / mcr in nashville, tn (aug 23, 2022)

8. and when he played with masculinity, it was in a way that was dubbed "boydrag". the new jersey night 2 casino singer look was a dramatic caricature that heightened masculine features until they were pure style... the defintion of camp. he had a mustache -- thin like john waters or a confirmed bachelor, and drawn on with eyeliner. he had a suit -- a pink-gold, glittery woman's cut jacket with a glittery bowtie and pleated shirt. the dramatic flair is accentuated by the black eye make-up, the frank sinatra "my way" cover, the drum tag: "the house always wins".

the defintion of camp -- photos: new jersey night 2 (sept 21, 2022) 1 / 2

when i asked which outfits others considered drag, all replies identified the casino singer and jackie o as drag and the rest as "just clothes". this relation made me understand why the rest couldnt be drag despite all the connections i talked about above. the jackie o outfit doesnt exaggerate the source like casino singer, but the source itself is both highly dramatic and highly gendered. cheer is gendered but not highly dramatic, st joan dramatic but not highly gendered. diane is gendered and dramatic, but not highly. the list goes on and on. it's a fine line. especially cheer could tip into drag for me.

but the source itself is both highly dramatic and highly gendered -- photos: mcr at riot fest (oct 12, 2022) / jackie kennedy onassis (jan 3, 1971)

if drag is understood in this way, simply wearing gendered clothes isnt drag. the look itself has to be about the performance of gender, however that may be presented. that’s the importance of classification. we can see what the artist is doing.

[hazashiovo]

He doesn't love you but...

Toji Fushiguro x reader

He doesn't love you ,but he adores the way you take care of his son,the food you make for him and how you talk to Megumi.

He doesn't love you,but he just can't help staring as you walk down the stairs of your apartment complex,to get some groceries,or go out.

He doesn't love you,but he looks forward to bumping into you,to see you all dressed up for ready to go out to see your friends.

He doesn't love you, but he almost spent the night in jail for breaking a guy's jaw. All fot touching you inappropriately without your consent

He doesn't love you,but Toji finds himself daydreaming about a life with you and Megumi. You would be the perfect mother(or father) for him.

He doesn't love you, but your eyes shine so beautifully in the sun,he can't take his own off of you.

He doesn't love you,but he gets so jealous,tho he'd never admit it, when you bring home that white haired dumbass,the white haired men's voice is so loud and obnoxious,it annoys Toji to the point of almost banging on your door.

He doesn't love you,but he enjoys listening to his kid talking all day about you. He rolls his eyes from time to time,but just smiles hearing Megumi talk about what you cooked that day,or how you spend time together while he was away.

He doesn't love you,so why is his body having that reaction once he sees you wearing a tank top a bit to small for you,paired with some short jeans. He had been with women before,but there is something strange he just can't figure out about you,he sure would love to.

He doesn't love you, he doesn't love the way you speak, your cooking or your scolding you give him when he arrives home a bit to late for your liking. Does he?

He doesn't love you,but how many times has Megumi catched you sleeping on his father's chest,all snuggled up. One hand behind Toji's head while the other wrapped around your waist,keeping you close and safe.

So why is his heart beating so fast when you're standing in front of him, inches apart as his eyes trace your face,eyes falling to your lips way to often for his liking.

Why can't he refuse the confession you gave him. Why can't he say he doesn't love you?

It's because Toji Fushiguro has fallen in love , and no matter how hard he tries to tell himself that he doesn't love you, it's just not true.

His lips find yours,a hand on your cheek,while the other is griping your waist,not tightly,just making sure you're not running anywhere.

He can't lie to himself anymore. Toji Fushiguro is head over heels for you, Toji Fushiguro loves you as long as his heart beats in his chest.

.

.

.

I was craving to write this one shot istg,it's just been on my mind even since this morning and I just couldn't help it 😔

[homunculus-argument]

Why do you constantly describe yourself like you’re the grossest, weirdest looking human being on the planet?

You’re always (very nonchalantly) talking about how ugly you are and… I’ve never seen your face ofc but I highly doubt you’re as weird looking as you think you are. I’m a bit concerned for you.

When my self-esteem was at its lowest I was CONVINCED that I looked absolutely awful. I felt that my features were weird and uneven. That I looked like someone who can’t draw tried to draw a person rather than an actual person. But now that I’ve gotten older and had therapy and my self-esteem isn’t so low anymore, I realize that I look normal. Perfectly normal. I may not be the most attractive person but I’m definitely not ugly and my face definitely isn’t mangled and gross. It’s just a regular face. But a few years ago, I absolutely swore that it wasn’t. It’s as if my mental state had been warping my vision.

So when you constantly talk about how ugly you are I can’t help but feel a little skeptical. You’re a human being, not a goblin. But you definitely describe yourself as if you look like a goblin. I’m willing to bet that you don’t.

I'm actually much happier now with how I look than I was when I was younger and tried so hard to be pretty. I remember being 21 and legit crying because I was so convinced that I'm too old to find anyone again and too ugly that anyone would settle for me. When I was in my Repression Phase, I could not stand wearing jeans because those are Men's Clothes and I was so convinced that I have to perform some sort of absolute over-the-top hyperfeminine presentation to be acceptable. I'm afab and looked up trans womens' passing advice because I was so sure that I'm not feminine enough.

I don't look anything like that these days, and I don't feel like that either. My life is completely different, I have friends who adore me and a partner who loves me, and I'm fine with the way I look. Over the past year I went from wearing understated grey sweaters and the plainest clothes possible into wearing skinny jeans, dyed hair and getting three facial piercings because I thought it would just be insanely funny to have a full-blown midlife crisis emo phase about turning 30. I look cringe on purpose for fun.

There's a world of difference between thinking "I am an ugly and wretched little creature and there's nothing I can do to make it stop", and "I am an ugly and wretched little creature and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Holy crap, I feel incredible! Only one month into the Stealth Detrans Challenge and I'm having a blast! Soooo happy my boyfriend convinced me to do this! For those who aren't keeping up, I met Darren about three months ago on Tinder and even on our first date he was gushing about this challenge and how he'd love to see me try it. I only giggled and nodded along, telling him I'll think about it..... sure enough only a couple months later I actually decided to give in! Seeing the other girls do it definitely helped, watching them gradually change and try, but fail to hide their masculinization. It seemed simple enough.... Stop my hormones, start taking testosterone instead, and see how long I can go before I can't hide that I'm detransitioning and becoming a guy. Most girls only last a few months before it's way too obvious....

I'm not sure if I'm even gonna last that long! My body knows what it wants and now that it's finally tasted T, it's like I'm being fast-tracked through male puberty! It's totally wild to watch. Since I started blockers and hormones so young I've never had, like, any T in my system. My hips grew big, my ass got nice and fat, and of course my breasts became huge and perfect for guys to play with. My cock never got bigger than an inch, but after a month on testosterone it's already six inches fully erect! I can finally jerk off! I could only rub it before. Not only that, but my balls are getting really big. They used to be tiny and useless, now they're as big as eggs, full of glorious cum! I ejaculate these huge, thick, milky ropes of cum, sometimes a dozen per orgasm, especially right when I wake up and relieve my morning wood, which can take three or four orgasms before my erections finally stop.

I'm already failing to hide my cock. I can hardly wear jeans or shorts because I get erections constantly. It's humiliating having to run to the women's room, make sure nobody's around, put some porn on my phone and jerk off in a stall really fast. I usually just watch something that gets me going fast, like pregnant college girls giving birth as they suck cock and get ass fucked. I've almost gotten caught a few times.... Now I even pee standing up so it's even more obvious that a guy is using the ladies' room. If the noise of me beating my cock wasn't obvious enough, watching porn like some hopeless gooner with zero impulse control.

I never used to watch porn, and I only masturbated a couple times a week. Now I jerk off over a dozen times a day, sometimes in my car when I'm out driving, or I'll even hide behind bushes or trees at the park and rub one out if my erections ache enough. How can other guys stand this? And to think my cock is only just starting its growth, most 'girls' who do this challenge wind up with cocks somewhere between ten and fifteen inches. I...... kind of love the idea of having a massive cock, showing everyone I'm a man no matter how much I doll myself up and train my voice..... speaking of which. Yes, my voice is just starting to crack! I am SO hyped! Pretty soon I'm going to need to voice train if I'm going to convince anyone I'm supposedly a girl. Already my friends and coworkers are looking at me funny when I talk. Some of them smirk when I open my mouth, as they go from eyeing the bulge in my shorts to my newly cracking voice. They can tell deep down what I'm secretly doing.

My bf is really happy I decided to do this challenge, but even more so that I'm detransitioning in general. He told me on our first date he's bi but prefers men. I shrugged and joked that if he's sure I could always be a guy if he really wants me to be. He definitely took me up on that offer! Pretty soon my facial hair will come in. My body hair is already getting thicker and coming in faster. I'm getting new hair up my belly and it's starting to grow on my breasts! It's looking like I'm meant to be a really hairy guy. Always knew I took more after my dad.... And speaking of my breasts, I've started telling my friends I'm thinking of getting a reduction. I'm asking them how they feel about me going really small, that I'm self-conscious of being so big breasted. They seem to love the idea. A couple of them even straight up said I'd look amazing totally flat-chested. I just smiled big and said, "Oh! You think so, too?"

Now it's only a matter of time until my passing days are numbered.... Once my beard really comes in and my voice gets way deeper I'm gonna get top surgery. You know, I'd get it now but I'd hate to spoil the challenge so early! Half the fun is watching people wonder if I'm detransing or not. I'm having so much fun I already convinced two trans girls at my university to do the challenge, too! We're hoping many more will follow. There's nothing naughtier than having the perfect body as a trans girl, going through all the work of going on blockers and never missing your hrt, developing your dream body. Perfect hips, perfect ass, perfect tits and a beautiful face/voice to match, only to throw it all away because the thought of becoming a guy makes your cock super hard.... Guess that shows how male I really am. All I can think with is my dick!"

[babygirlmurdock]

Unexpected Connection

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend convinces you to go to a singles event only for you to meet Hell’s Kitchen infamous lawyer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mild swearing, alcohol

a/n: heyyy lol so this is my First piece of fiction. i’m trying to get better at writing fiction and this actually came to me when something like this was actually brought up to me recently lol so i thought hey why not try to write something about it?

——————————————————————————

You’ve been single for quite some time now. Your last breakup was nasty, left your heart shredded; you weren’t too sure when you’d be truly ready to date again. Your friends have been helpful, pushing you to get out there and meet new people. Get your mind off your ex, y’know?

Swipe after swipe. Messages that are painfully one sided. Or men that just want to hook up or want something casual.

“Ooh, I just got this advertised to me on Instagram,” Jill says to you. Jill is a coworker turned friend. You perk up from your desk to see what she was talking about, “a meet and mingle this Saturday at the Refinary rooftop. We should definitely go!”

“Ugh, I just don’t know Jill. All men have done is just disappoint me and nothing has compared to Jam— ”,

“James. I know. But maybe the guy that is way better than James will be there. Your soulmate could be here and you would never know! C’mon it’ll be fun, I think. Plus meeting people in person is way better than on the apps,” she leans up against your desk. You worked as an editor at the New York Bulletin. It was an internship turned full time position after you graduated college. You dreamed of New York one day, and it still feels surreal that this is your reality.

You are sure your friends were tired of you sulking about James. It’s been well over 6 months and he’s probably already moved on while you’re stuck in this trench of dating.

“Okay. Fine. I hope there’s good drinks because Lord knows I’ll need that liquid confidence.” You scrubbed your face.

Jill squeals, “I’m so excited!! It starts at 7.”

——————————————————————————-

“Matt! It would be so fun, talking to beautiful women all night and who knows, maybe take one home!” Foggy hints to Matt about this meet and mingle.

“I’m really not in the cards to be dating right now, Foggy,” Matt says, shuffling through some papers. The mid-afternoon sun beamed through Matt’s office as Foggy stood in his doorway. Matt was trying to get through the last of this litigation before the end of the week and Foggy was not making this easier.

“This might be the opportunity that you meet someone who is actually normal! Not some psycho chick that almost got your ass expelled back in law school. That’s how long it’s been, Matt! Do you know how long ago law school was?” Matt lets out a small laugh at Foggy.

“Yes, Foggy. I was there, I know how long ago it was.”

He never understood why Foggy was so adamant on him meeting someone. Now that the firm is getting some business and he’s gone out more times than he can count as Daredevil, he just doesn’t have the time to commit.

“I’ll go only for an hour,” Matt sighs and Foggy lets out a cheer.

“You’re not gonna regret this, Murdock!”

————————————————————————

Saturday night rolls around. You and Jill are about to head to the singles event.

“I hope I meet someone rich,” Jill says, applying her lipstick. “I just don’t want to work again, y’know?”

“Tell me about it. I just hope nobody is too much of an asshole. I don’t know if I can take another person mansplaining what investing is and why I should do it,” You shouted from the bathroom, spraying some hairspray in your hair. You came out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

“Whoa girl, what are you wearing? You can’t wear that!” Jill said from your living room.

You eye yourself in the mirror, “what is so wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?”

Jill says your name sternly, “everything? You might meet the love of your life! Show some more!”

“You’re ridiculous. You’re lucky I’m going to this in the first place! Would it make you happier if I changed my top?” You say, taking off your shirt to dig for something she deems more appropriate.

“Atta girl, show the goodies,” Jill says, shimmying her chest. “Uber is downstairs, let’s get going.”

——————————————————————————

You arrive at the venue and make your way upstairs to the roof. It was decorated with greenery and twinkle lights. The place was lit just enough to make it romantic but not where you couldn’t see anyone. Not even 15 minutes into the event, you lose Jill in the crowd already talking to people. You make your way to the bar to order yourself a drink.

“Dirty martini, gin, please. Thanks,” you stand at the bar while you wait for your drink and hear a smooth voice next to you.

“Whiskey, neat, please. Thank you,” you peer over and your eyes meet a beautiful man wearing red glasses. You take a moment to read him a little bit. Gorgeous side profile. Your eyes make their way down to his hands, and meet with a cane. Blind?

“Dirty martini & a whiskey neat.”

“Thank you,” you both say in unison. “I suppose we should cheers?” The man says to you.

“Oh, uh sure, cheers,” You clink your glass against his and a smile breaks out on his face as the glass meets his lips. God damn, this guy looks like the next coming of Christ. He was so unreal looking. He had the jaw sculpted by God himself, decorated with just the right amount of stubble, and his lips. They were so pink and full. The thoughts of kissing him already danced in your head. The faint smell of his cologne twirled around in your nostrils.

“So let me guess,” you take a sip from your drink, “your friend basically dragged you here too against your will even though you told them you were over dating?”

“Wow,” his eyebrows perked up as he took another sip, “how did you guess?” he says, sarcastically.

“Well, considering you look like that,” your hand vaguely gestured to his body, “and women aren’t at your beck and call, I had to assume.”

“Look like what? Oh God, did I forget to put on my pants? You’d tell me that I’m pant less right?” He says frantically, trying to hide his laughter.

“Ha ha, very funny. But was I right?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not too far off. It’s hard to do modern dating when everything is on dating apps and eyesight helps that. Phones can only be so accessible. I’m Matt by the way, Matt Murdock.” He sticks his hand out for you to grab. You give him your name as you shake his hand. You notice some bruising on the knuckles and wonder what that could be about.

“Wait like, the lawyer?”

Matt sheepishly nodded in agreement, “that would be me.”

“Where were you when I told a cop to fuck off because I didn’t like how he was speaking to my friend?” You take a big swig of your martini hoping the alcohol would hit you sooner rather than later.

“My law partner must’ve missed the call from the woman brave enough to tell a cop to fuck off,” Matt smirks at you. Butterflies erupt inside you and your heart beat jumps.

————————————————————————

As the night goes on, and after a couple more drinks, conversation between you and Matt flows effortlessly. You two made your way over to a couch to sit and talk. The crowd ebbed and flowed throughout the night. People left, more people showed up, but it never got too crowded. It honestly felt like you and Matt were alone, like the world stood still.

“So you mean to tell me he took your furniture outside?” You laugh at the thought of his college roommate moving all of Matt’s furniture outside.

“Yeah, it was kind of rude of him to do that to a blind guy. He thought it was hilarious though,” Matt smiles at you.

“You guys seemed wild in law school. I bet campus police weren't too thrilled with your shenanigans,” you rest your chin on your hand as you lean a bit closer to Matt.

“Foggy actually got into some trouble with them because he was breaking the school's disability rules. Nothing too major, he just had to volunteer as a part of campus police to pay his dues.”

You laugh at Matt, and briefly look around and notice you and Matt seemed to be two of the other five couples that are still there.

“So, I have a question for you…” you trail off, debating on asking this question.

“No, I haven’t been blind my whole life,” Matt states.

“How did you know I was going to ask that?” your voice has an edge of surprise to it.

“It came in the pamphlet when I lost my vision. Don’t worry about it though, it doesn’t bother me when people ask,” Matt reassures you. “It’s been 20 years at this point.”

“Oh wow, so you had to adapt and relearn the world without your eyes. That’s insane, it must have been tough for you,” you rest your hand on Matt’s bicep. What business does he have to have this much of a defined arm?

“It took some adjusting but my other senses were…” Matt stops mid sentence before realizing what he was about to say.

“What? Like sensitive? I’m sure your other senses had to compensate now that your eyes were out of commission.”

“Yeah, you can say sensitive in a way,” Matt sighs. Silence falls between you both. You fiddle with your glass for a moment until he speaks up, “what do you say we get out of here?”

“Oh, um,” you look around in hopes of finding your friend because you’re still nervous about potentially going home with somebody new. No matter how gorgeous the man is. “I–“ you stammer.

“I don’t want to give the wrong intentions. What I mean is maybe go to another bar. There’s a place two blocks over that we can go to. If you’re up for it,” Matt gave you a small smile of reassurance.

You think for a moment, staring at his face while your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your body. What the hell, why not? “Sure, I’d like that,” you smile and get up. You let Matt grab onto your forearm for guidance as you walk to the bar to close out. After he graciously also paid for your tab, you walked with him to the elevator.

“What’s this place called? How do I know you’re not going to murder me? You are still a stranger by the way,” you ramble on. Matt laughs at your nervousness.

“It’s called Josie’s. I’ve been going here since I was in law school. And if I were going to murder you, I would have done it already,” Matt leans into you playfully.

“Ah yeah that makes me feel so much better, thank you, Matt,” you joke.

—————————————————————————

The walk to Josie’s is mostly silent, but not awkward. You feel at ease around Matt. His energy is soothing, it feels like you’ve known him for ages. He asked about your upbringing, what brought you to New York. Your typical “getting to know someone” questions.

As you approach the bar, your nerves dissipate as you recognize this is a dive bar. “You seem less tense,” Matt said to you, his hand lightly placed on the pulse point of your wrist.

“Yeah, I love a good dive bar. It’s charming in a way,” you breathe out, leading the way into the bar. You find a seat at the bar for you and Matt to sit. You look around the bar, and notice the pool table in the back. There were old beer signs all over the walls. The lighting was dim and moody. Classic rock was playing over the speakers. Matt must’ve waved down a bartender while you were distracted because two beers are placed in front of you as you sat down next to him.

“I love how you assumed I liked beer,” you tease, taking a sip from your bottle.

“I can order something else if you’d like me to,” Matt's voice breaks a bit.

“I like beer, don’t worry,” you reassured him, “so what are the odds a blind man knows how to play pool?”

“I’ve played. I can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

Your drinks start to hit you more as you speak, “Do you want to make a bet?”

“Betting against a blind man? Low blow,” Matt sucks his teeth teasing you a bit. You giggle, “Fair point, Matthew. Fair point. C’mon, do you need guidance to the table?”

“No thank you, I know this place like it’s my own home,��� Matt smiled at you as you both made your way over to the pool table.

You rack up the balls and Matt grabs some cues. “Do you want to break the triangle?” Matt asks.

“Sure, why not,” You bend over, lining up the cue ball with the tip of the triangle. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel Matt’s gaze upon you. You know, for someone who is blind, you sure can feel like his eyes were all over your body. The loud crack of the ball break snaps you out of your train of thought. “Do you, um, do you need help lining up the cue?”

“Actually yes, that’d be helpful.”

You make your way to Matt’s side, telling him solids were his and what balls were lined up with which ones. To your shock, he nails two solids into the sink holes. “I’ll be damned. Blind man is good at pool.”

Matt’s voice is low and husky when he says, “there’s a lot of secrets about me,” which gives you full body chills.

“Well, okay then, I—” you stammer trying to collect your tipsy self. You take your shot and, “God damn it, missed. You’re not hustling me, are you? You said you weren’t good!” you protest.

“Ehh, lucky shot, I guess,” Matt laughs, taking a swig of his beer.

The round of pool goes at a good pace, flirty innuendos fly off the walls. At this point, Matt’s jacket is off and the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up showing his forearms. Every passing hour, you feel more and more attracted to him. And you only hope he feels the same.

“Alright, 8 ball is up. Absolutely no fucking way I’m about to lose a game of pool to a guy who can’t see,” you said competitively.

“Well to be fair, you have been helping me line the cues up, you could’ve hustled me and lined up with your balls.” He suggests with a shrug.

“God damn it, you’re so right. Holy shit why didn’t I think of that?!” You line the cue up to the ball and take your shot...and miss. You let out a gasp as you just lost this game of pool.

“That didn’t sound like a good gasp,” Matt teased.

“You’d be correct. Good game, Matt.”

“Good game,” he said your name back to you.

You looked at your watch and realized it was almost midnight. “It’s getting late, I think we should head out. That sound okay to you?” you say, even though you secretly don’t want this night to end.

“Yeah, do you want me to walk you home?” Matt asks you, with a shy smile secretly hoping you’d say yes.

“That’d be really lovely, thank you. I’m just 5 blocks up actually.”

————————————————————————

“Alright, this is me,” you halt in front of your building’s entrance.

“Are you sure it’s not up one more block?” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

“Unfortunately, it is not. I had a really good time tonight, Matt,” you step closer to him, inches away from his body.

“I had a really nice time tonight, too,” Matt’s voice just above a whisper. God, that register in his voice practically made you fall to your knees.

You and Matt are still standing dangerously close to each other as both of your body’s heats mingled together, practically begging for some physical touch. “I should, uh, get upstairs. Goodnight, Matt.” As you are about to turn away, Matt pulls you in closer as your chests nearly touch. Lips hovering over one another as your breath intertwines with his. Your brain is barely forming coherent thoughts, until you whisper, “I think this is the part where you kiss me.”

“I was waiting for the words,” Matt’s hand snakes up to gently rest on your jawbone as he tilts your head up. His lips meet yours with the tenderness and sweetness that you crave so desperately. He pulls away and you both sigh. “That was—”

“Really nice. You’re an excellent kisser by the way,” you let your inside thoughts exist on the outside now. “That was meant to stay inside my brain, oh my god….” You buried your face in your hands as you pulled away from his embrace.

Matt laughs, “I appreciate the compliment, thank you.”

“Let’s do this again, next week? You owe me a rematch in pool.”

“Next week sounds fantastic. If the pool game went anything like it did tonight, it won’t be much of a rematch,” Matt banters with you. You gasp at his remark which makes him laugh. “I’ll call you sometime this week to set something up, okay?”

“Do you mind if I put my number in your phone? I figure that’d be easiest maybe,” You suggest.

“Oh yeah, that’d be great,” Matt said pulling out his phone. You grabbed it and put your name and number in there and handed it back to him.

“Okay,” you smile at him, “I’ll be anticipating your call.”

“Goodnight,” Matt whispers your name, dripping from his lips like honey. You kiss his cheek and head upstairs. As you close the door, you squeal in excitement.

Matt stood outside your building for a moment, listening to it shut to ensure you made it in okay. As he was about to step away, he heard you squeal to yourself in excitement, which made him laugh to himself.

[thlayli-ra]

A Sinner at Heart

AO3 Version Here

Characters - LA Knight, Nick Aldis

Pairing - LA Knight/Nick Aldis

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Mature (18+ only!)

Warnings - Valets and Dominants, Sub/Dom Undertones, Flirting, Male Slash, Stripping, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, No Prep, Sex for Favours

Words - ~4,500 words

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE.

Summary - LA Knight knows exactly what he wants - and he's not afraid to stoop to one of his old tricks to get it!

For @stripeydani - Enjoy! 😘

     LA Knight was a valet on a mission. He knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how he was going to get it. 

     It just meant bending his newfound morals a little bit. Fall back on one of his old tricks. A well-tried-and-tested trick, it should be pointed out.

     Making his way through the backstage area, he strode up to Nick Aldis' office door and lingered there a second or two. This wasn't a time for barging in and making demands. Men like Aldis preferred things done a certain way, a professional way. Which was why he'd planned it all out in advance, down to the finest detail. 

     He'd called Aldis' PA to make the appointment days ago, early in the afternoon to avoid any undesirables butting in on his time and had made sure he arrived early. As temped as he'd been to strut in wearing only his gear, he'd opted for a more conservative look - his signature vest, yellow shirt (with the sleeves cut off, of course - he was going for modest here, not prudish!) and, to finish off the look, the tightest pair of jeans he owned. 

     The denim was practically creaking against his pert, round ass as he checked himself over one last time. Neatly trimmed hair and beard? Check! A thin dusting of baby oil on his exposed arms (just enough to make him glisten without looking like a walking GI Joe doll)? Check! And, most important of all, his sunglasses, to hide the greatest weapon in his arsenal, his big baby blues, until he needed to unleash them with a dramatic flourish.

     Check and double check!

     He was ready! And judging from the hands on his watch, he was right on time.

     He rapped his knuckles against the door and after a beat, a deep voice beckoned him inside. 

     'Mr Aldis?' Knight enquired politely as he stepped into the office, closing the door carefully behind him.

     The Smackdown general manager glanced up from his paperwork, looking as dashing as ever in his three-piece suit with his neatly coiffured hair and five o' clock shadow on his chin. 'Thought we already talked about this, Eli,' he said, getting up from his desk to offer his hand to the valet, showcasing his impressive size. Tall and broad, a classic dominant build. Knight liked them big. 'Call me Nick.'

     'And I thought we already talked about how it's LA now,' Knight replied with a cheeky grin, accepting the dominant's hand and giving it a firm shake. He wasn't offended by the mistake - the pair had known each other for years, from back when they'd both worked in the indies and went by different names. Sometimes, even Knight's own husband, Bobby Lashley, called him by his old moniker in bed, probably because his little infatuation with the boastful valet had started back then. But Knight didn't care; so long as it was his name he cried out as he came.

     The GM gave a small laugh. 'Of course, my apologies. Please, take a seat.' He motioned to the chair but Knight instead chose to perch himself on the edge of the GM's desk. Either the dominant didn't notice or didn't mind as he settled back into his desk chair. 'How can I help you today... LA?'

     The valet took note of the way Nick put emphasis on his name. It sent shivers down his spine. He'd always been a sucker for an accent. Scottish, especially. There was something extra filthy about his ex Drew's rugged intonation between the sheets. Same with Joe Hendry, one of the few valets he'd fooled around with, with his softer but no less robust dialect, the thought of which made him weak at the knees.

     But English... oh, he appreciated an English accent! Especially those that filled every word with bewitching charm. Like Lord Regal. Like Wade Barrett.

     Like Nick Aldis!

     'I think you already know why I'm here?' Knight said, smiling sweetly at the GM.

     Nick lowered his head with a sigh and tapped the butt of his fountain pen against his desk. 'If you're looking for Logan Paul then he's not here tonight.'

     'Well, well, what a surprise!' Knight scoffed. 'What's he doin' this time? Filming another stupid video? Tiring out some washed-up old-timer in the boxing ring? Losing to a four year old in the World Tiddlywinks Championships?' Nick looked away to hide the mirth on his face. 'You know, over on the red brand, they've got Sami Zayn defending that IC title week-in-and-week-out against some of the biggest, most dangerous dominants on the roster. Our Undisputed Champion, Cody Rhodes, is here for every taping and every live show and every PLE and all the press in between.'

     Nick gave a nod, seeing Knight's point. Because for once, he had a point! Now, he only had to add himself into the equation.

     'And you've got a guy like me turning up, putting my body on the line, practically breaking myself in half on ladders then showing up for work on Friday. Doesn't matter that I'm all banged up, doesn't matter I've got bruises on my pretty face, I'm here. Not swaggering in whenever I damn well feel like it, like our so-called 'US Champion'. You ask me, he's more a BS Champion.'

     'Clever,' Nick teased. 'How long did it take you to come up with that one?'

     'Rolled off my tongue right now as a matter of fact,' Knight replied, smugly. The GM was taking the bait nicely but Knight was in no rush to hook him in just yet. Where was the fun in that?  'Look, I've already chased this dummy around the block, even went as far as going to his damn house and enjoyed a little dip in his pool-'

     'Yes, and we spoke about that,' Nick cut in, his tone a warning for the valet.

     'Well if I can't go knocking on his door again then what must I do to get this dummy in the ring? I've been in Elimination Chambers and King of the Ring tournaments and Money in the Bank matches, I beat AJ Styles one-two-three at Wrestlemania, hell, I've gone toe-to-toe with the Head of the Table himself, Roman Reigns and came within a whisker of becoming the Undisputed WWE Champion so what else?' 

     Knight shuffled around the desk until he was sat on Nick's side, directly facing the dominant who was reclining back in his desk chair. Without a hint of subtlety, the GM's eyes travelled down to ogle Knight between his open legs, his generous bulge straining against the tight denim. That's it. Have a good look. You play your cards right you might even get more intimately acquainted.

     'You want me to go out there tonight and have another triple threat match for the number one contendership? Then fine, if you all need me to prove myself again, I've got my gear with me. Just let me go put on my boots and trunks and I'll-

     'Will you be wearing anything under those little red trunks of yours this time?' Nick's eyes sparkled cheekily up at the valet, who couldn't help but cough out a hearty laugh, a wide grin breaking his lips.

     Oh, this is just too damn easy! 

     Leaning closer, Knight peeked over the rim of his sunglasses. 'You saw that, huh?'

     'Everybody saw it!' Nick quirked his eyebrows.

     'Did you like it?' The grin travelled up Knight's cheek. 'Like how baby-smooth I keep myself down there?'

     Nick said nothing but kept his mischievous eyes on the valet.

     'Hey, you're in charge. You wanna see me rolled up like a pretzel while my opponent get all handsy with my smalls, you just gotta make the call.'

     Nick cleared his throat and sat up straight, pretending to get back to work. 'Friendly reminder that this is a family show LA, so keep the family jewels covered up in the future.'

     'Sure thing,' Knight said. He wasn't fooled by the sudden lack of interest; the dominant just wanted to remind Knight that he was the one in charge here. And hey, if he needed his ego massaged, then Knight was more than happy to oil up his hands. 'Is this appropriate enough, Boss?'

     'Is what appropriate enough?' Nick asked, scribbling away on his paperwork. 

     'What I'm wearing right now?' Knight nudged his knee in closer towards the GM, encroaching on the form he was trying to fill. The question hung in the air. The hand holding the fountain pen stopped, frozen in space.

     But Knight could see Nick's eyes lingering on his beefy thigh, admiring every curve and groove. The valet stayed silent and waited, letting the mouse make the next move.

     Slowly, Nick's hand slinked its way across the desktop towards the offending limb. Scaling the hard face of his knee, the hand smoothed its way up and up, fingers splayed, eventually coming to halt at the peak of Knight's inner thigh, his pinkie finger wedging itself into the groove at his pelvis to nuzzle against his bulge. The valet took in a small, shuddering gasp. A beautifully executed piece of acting that worked perfectly to please the GM.

     'Lashley-'

     'We have an agreement. He can keep this wild mare but he can't tame me. I've got to run free.'

     Nick wasn't looking at him. Both his eyes and hands were too occupied with the prize waiting for them between the valet's legs.

     'What is it you're wanting here, exactly LA?'

     'A shot at the US title,' Knight said with ease, 'at Summerslam.' 

     The dominant gave a nod of his head, considering the demand. 'Go lock the door.'

     Knight twisted around to spy the office door, taking the opportunity to push out his chest and shoulders. 'Already got it on my way in.'

     Nick huffed a laugh. 'You were rather sure of getting your own way, weren't you?'

     'I always do,' the valet tilted his chin back, arrogantly.

     'Take your shirt off!'

     'Yes, Boss.'

     Shucking off his vest and muscle tee, Knight tossed them to the floor by which time, Nick had put down his pen and pushed back his desk-chair. Hooking a hand under each of Knight's thighs, he coaxed the valet down onto his lap and admired the tanned, chiselled muscle on display. Stroking a hand over one Herculean pec and up his collarbone, he  smoothed along a broad shoulder then up the side of the valet's strong neck, teasing Knight's bearded cheek with the back of his fingers. A fingertip caught the bridge of Knight's sunglasses and eased them down his nose slightly, revealing the pretty blues underneath.

     'Want them off, Boss?' Knight asked.

     'No.'

     The hand grabbed Knight's bristled chin and pulled him close, locking their lips together. Their tongues sloppily clashed, swirling around to explore the deepest crevices of each other's mouths, all while Nick kept a firm grip on Knight's jaw. 

     Even when they finally pulled back for a breath, each man's chests starting to heave a little heavier, that strong hand refused to let go. Ensuring that those slivers of sea breeze watched the GM as his other hand went to his throat to loosen the knot of his tie and undo the top button of his shirt. Knight drew in his bottom lip, following the hand as it trailed down to unfasten the buttons of Nick's waistcoat next, lightly pushing the fine fabric apart. The hand on his chin angled down, leading its captive audience to witness the dominant unbuckling his leather belt.

     But there, the game stopped. 

     Knight realised it was his turn. 

     He moved his hands towards Nick's waist and unfastened the final button and zipper on his suit pants, digging one hand in to release the GM's dick, already semi-hard and keen. The thumb on Knight's chin stroked back and forth tantalisingly.

     'Well...?' Nick asked, cocking an eyebrow at the valet.

     'I think I can help with that, Boss.' One hand wrapped around the dominant's shaft, the other coerced his legs apart so that he could slip down between them. Once positioned on his knees, Knight shuffled in close, rolling his tongue over his lips to moisten him. Right before he took it into his mouth, he pumped his hand up the entire length, squeezing right at the tip until the blood pooled and turned the skin a delicious dark red.

     Nick growled when the valet engulfed the entire head into his mouth in one gulp, craning his neck back in the early throes of pleasure when lips tightened around the sensitive skin and began to suck. Knight's soft, wet tongue entered the fray, slurping up the underside of his cock, teasing the bump where his foreskin crinkled against his shaft. 

     'Hmmph!' the dominant's fist flew up to his mouth but didn't stifle the grunt in time, as Knight's tongue swirled around his cock head. The cheeky tip honed in on the eye, drawing circles around it before attacking, boring its way in. The GM's chin shot up, lips pulling back in a barely controlled snarl. 

     From down below, Knight gazed up over the rim of his sunglasses, eyes sparkling with wickedness. Man, oh man, did he enjoy watching these big, brutish men fall apart like a cheap condom under his power. And he'd barely even touched the guy yet. While he continued teasing the head, he used one free hand to stroke up and down the barrel in slow, tight motions while the other fondled his balls, each sensation hitting a sweet spot for the GM as evidenced by the swelling implement between Knight's hollow cheeks.

     Pumping his fist all the way to the base, the valet went for seconds, swallowing more of the dominant down. In his peripheral vision, he could see both sets of Nick's fingernails digging into the leather arms of his desk-chair and felt a pang of indignation that he was not the recipient of those talons. Claw my shoulders, claw my back, grab me by my hair! Come on, you're a dominant. Live up to it!

     He retaliated by sucking. Hard and slow. Taking in more and more until he could feel it prod the back of his throat. Fortunately by now, Knight was a master of his gag reflex and opened his throat up to welcome the rest of the dominant in, guzzling him down until his nose nestled in the course brown hair at the base of his dick.

     He looked up again. Nick was looking right at him. Mouth agape, cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat started to slide down his glistening brow. Whose game is it now? Knight inwardly chuckled, as he gazed up over his sunglasses which were pressed tight into the crook of Nick's thighs, poking into the soft flesh on either side while his blue eyes shimmered with all the wonder of a disciple admiring their saint.

     Knight gave a wink. And hummed.

     Nick tossed his head back, a deep, throaty whine spitting through his gritted teeth. 

     Knight kept moving, pulling back to let the rock solid cock slip from his mouth then ramming it back in again, all while his fingers kneaded Nick's balls and his sunglasses prodded into his inner thigh. Each thrust and pull and squeeze and prong released a barrage of fresh curses and indecipherable noises from the GM's lips. His fingernails started to shred through the leather on the arms of his chair.

     The jealousy became too much and Knight grabbed one of the offending hands and clamped it down on his head, hissing when they twisted into his dark curls harshly. A pleasant sting. The dominant's other hand moved on its own accord to snake around the back of Knight's head, brushing back and forth along the feathery bristles where he had newly shorn it. 

     The pressure in Knight's mouth was becoming too much. The GM was about to burst his load any second, disappointing the valet who was having far too much fun. 

     Fortunately, the dominant had other plans. The hand in Knight's hair gripped tightly, yanking him back and eventually off of his painfully throbbing dick with a loud, wet pop. The valet's wet chin was grabbed again and jerked skyward, two pairs of glazed eyes tried to focus on one another through the haze.

     'No...' the Englishman slurred out breathlessly. 'Up.'

     Knight's legs were weak, wobbling at the knees but he managed to struggle up to his feet. Desperate fingers pawed at the waistband of his super tight jeans, practically tearing the denim off of his thick thighs. 

     Nick hitched a breath, spying the special treat Knight had hidden for him under his pants.

     He wasn't wearing any underwear!

     'Oops! Guess I didn't learn my lesson from last time, Boss,' he said coyly, thrusting his hips forward to emphasise the meaty appendage between his legs, already a deep pink and starting to swell. Dipping his head, Knight peeked over the rim of his sunglasses, feigning all the innocence of a young valet on his claiming night. 'You gonna punish me?' 

     The loaded question hung in the air, charging the atmosphere.

     Until Nick answered with a growl. Snaring the valet in his mighty grip, he dragged him back onto his lap. Lathering up his fingers with the mess of pre-cum and spit from his cock, he slid them under Knight when the valet interrupted him.

     'Only good boys get prepped,' he smirked, 'and I aint a good boy.'

     The GM stared viciously at the valet, heaving breaths whistling through his teeth. 'No. I suppose you're not!'

     The fingers quickly forgot their mission and instead latched onto Knight's flanks, smearing their mess onto his hip. Together, they lifted the valet up until his dry hole lined with Nick's sopping wet dick. Knight pushed down hard, trying to break the seal quickly. He was certain he'd lubricated the GM enough for it to slip right in but it still met plenty of resistance, making him wince loudly at the burn, feeling every inch as it widened him up.

     But damn! Did it feel good! 

     Bobby never fucked him raw. Said it was for the valet's own welfare, (although really, it was probably because the dominant didn't feel comfortable doing it) but there was something about the intensity and the pain that made it all seem so... nasty! Like he was committing a cardinal sin. 

     He may have been a changed man now, on a mission of redemption to alter his selfish ways and make amends for every wrong he had caused in the past. Yet, underneath all that self-improvement and character reform...

     ... he was still a sinner at heart!

     Nick began to buck his hips and thrust in deeper, grinning like a jackal at every sweet whimper it tore from the valet's throat. 'Is that punishment enough?' he asked right before punching his way in rougher, keeping an iron grip on Knight's hips so that he couldn't pull away as he drove himself in right to the hilt.

     Knight gritted his teeth at the sting before letting out an obnoxious scoff. 'Don't think I've learnt my lesson yet, Boss.' 

     'Well, we can't have that now, can we?'

     The thrusting turned more rhythmic, pumping more than thrusting and now that Knight was acclimatising, he started to relax. Pushing back against the dominant's hips, his eyes rolled into the back of his head whenever he felt Nick's cock hitting his g-spot, grinding against that large bundle of nerves that spat out sparks of ecstasy at every touch. His lower jaw went limp and he began to moan and groan with growing pleasure.

     'Enjoying yourself?'

     'How can you tell?' Knight could barely open his heavy eyes, squeezing himself as close as he could against Nick's hot groin.

     'You're being very noisy,' Nick said, in that same professional manner he used for contract briefings, only a little breathier than usual. 'I knew you were loud in the ring but didn't realise it was this bad out of it.'

     'Afraid someone might hear?' Knight smirked. The GM answered with a stern look. 'Hey, you wanna shut me up, you know how.'

     Nick grabbed Knight by the back of his head and smashed their mouths together. Knight's sunglasses clanked as the bridge of their noses collided. Clamping his lips over Knight's loudmouth, he gagged him with his tongue, shoving it in between his teeth, stifling the needy groan that thrummed from the valet's throat. 

     As their mouths tangled above, their hips merged below, working together in perfect harmony to wring every ounce of pleasure from them both. Knight had completely opened up, the thin lube of his earlier spit adding some ease to the motion. Nick kept hitting that marvellous piece of him deep inside but every sound Knight made was muffled by his boss' lips. 

     Soon, even the GM began to break his own rules. Ravaged noises rumbled from his own throat. If Knight could smile through the intense kissing, he would be beaming from ear-to-ear. The pace picked up, getting frantic. He struggled to keep up, his thighs throbbing as he bounced up and down on Nick's lap. The kissing degenerated into open mouth panting, both men's breaths fogging the other's cheek. Sparkles of bright colours like fireworks began to burst behind Knight's closed eyes. 

     Nick came first, spilling his seed, wet and hot inside of the valet. The feel of it oozing down his back passage, and the strangled snarl that accompanied it, was enough to spiral Knight into his own climax. He only had a chance to yelp for a second before his mouth was covered again, every one of his unchecked wails smothered by the GM's lips sealed against his own.

     Only once he'd finally finished, did Nick let him go, tugging on his swollen, deep-pink lips with his teeth before slumping back into his desk chair and swallowing air down like a starved waif.

     From up above, Knight was a wretched, crumpled shade of the 'modest' valet he'd walked in as. Clothes gone, hair dishevelled, his sunglasses slanted lop-sided on the bridge of his nose. His hazy blue eyes never wavered from the GM, bushy brows high as his shoulders rose and fell.

     'Well...?' he uttered, mirroring Nick's earlier question.

     The GM creaked open one glazed eye and cleared his throat. Sitting back up, he reached around the valet for a tissue from the box on his desk and nonchalantly wiped at the mess left from Knight's orgasm on his pants and shirt. Without asking, Knight grabbed a tissue for himself but it was swiftly snatched away by Nick who then used it to tenderly clean the valet's cock. 'I think I can help you with that.'

     'With my dick or with my US Title match?'

     Nick said nothing, only continued to mop up his temporary lover between the legs until he was satisfied. Finally looking up to catch the curious blue eyes staring back at him, he reached over to right his wonky sunglasses. 'Come back here after the show starts. I will have one of the guys type up a contract for you and leave it on my desk for you to pick up.' 

     'Sounds good,' Knight nodded with approval. 'Will it have Logan Dumbass' signature on it too?'

     'That,' Nick pushed the valet's sunglasses back up to the top of his nose with his index finger, 'is your mission.'

     Knight drew in a breath. Mulling it over. 

     'Leave it with me.'

     'You're the man for the job.' Pulling a comb from his inside pocket, Nick ran it through Knight's slightly damp curls, teasing them back off his sweaty forehead. Once he was satisfied that he'd smartened the valet enough, he grasped him by the chin, gentler than before and pulled him in for a parting kiss. 'The words you're looking for, by the way, are 'thank' and 'you'.'

     'Right back at ya!' Knight parried.

     Nick smiled softly, pecking the valet on the lips. 'Thank you.'

     'And thank you, Boss.' He tipped his head to the side cheekily. 'Will you be here later when I come to pick it up?'

     'Unfortunately not,' Nick replied, smoothing his hands over the valet's naked thighs and down his muscular chest, 'but you can knock on my door any time.'

     As promised, when Knight popped into Nick's office after Smackdown started, he found a contract for a US title match against Logan Paul at Summerslam waiting for him. He decided to waste no time and searched for a pen, grinning filthily as he picked up the fountain pen he'd made Nick abandon earlier, and signed his name on the dotted line. Now, he just needed to get the other. 

     He would think of a way. He always got what he wanted. Always!

     Heading back outside, he found a slew of others waiting in line to see Nick, among them those two vain buffoons, Pretty Deadly. 'Hey dummies, he aint here!' he informed them then walked away before the carnage hit. Striding down the hallway, he admired his prize while Bobby's voice echoed between his ears.

     'Just... don't do anything stupid when I'm not there, like, I dunno, sleep with the boss.'

     Knight was sure he meant Hunter though. Pretty sure...

     Instead, he focused on the contract in his hand, almost feeling something radioactive emitting from it. Something exciting! He deserved this, he had earned it, with his blood, his tears and his sweat - a whole lot of sweat! And come Summerslam, he would have his hand raised and that gold around his waist then there would be no more doubt who's game this is, with everybody saying-

     The lights flickered.

     Knight looked up but by the time his wide blue eyes found the light source it had returned to normal. He let out a stuttered breath, balling his fist up tight.

     'Yeah, thought I'd be seeing you,' he snarled under his breath, glancing around him for any other tell-tale signs. 'Knew as soon as I saw that mess you made on Raw that you'd be showing your ugly, rubber face over here.' Nothing. Everybody was going about their business, as if they hadn't noticed. 

     'Well, here's the deal, Howdy,' Knight went on. 'I don't give a damn if you're back. I don't give a damn if you've got a bunch of cross-eyed halfwits running around in masks doing your bidding. I aint never gonna belong to you again. You come gunning for me, you ain't tangling with the same guy you were before. I'm ready for you, and I'm gonna do what I should have done the last time you tried to lock me in your damn cage.

     'I'm gonna put you down. For good!

     'But, for now,' he gazed lovingly at his contract, 'I've got bigger fish to fry. YEAH!'