#the way they’re nicely tanned and you can see the outline of muscle

[dilfmikelarteta]

[seita]

— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost

[crescentsteel]

When in Brazil - Sunshine

pairing: Hinata x f!reader genre: SMUT wc: 6.6k warnings: fingering, oral, body worship, praise kink, hinata with big dik

[a/n]

I said to myself, lets make this quick and short. lol yea sure

No beta. This is Spartaaaaa 

My brain went bzzt bzzt after this. 

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist for this mini series

Beach || masterlist

  “Are there any more deliveries for me, y/n?” The ginger asks while beaming at you like he hasn’t been delivering orders under the heat of the sun across Rio the whole afternoon. 

“We’re all good, Shoyo.” You smile back. He’s such an earnest part-timer that your mood just lifts up whenever you see him. You rarely find anyone like him. Even though he’s just delivering orders for the diner, he’s so dedicated to it. He’s not like one of your previous delivery guys who grumbles before and after work as if they’re not getting paid. Shoyo is different. His eyes are full of life, full of purpose.

You like seeing him around because his sincerity and politeness makes you feel like you’re not just some dumb waitress in some small diner. Aside from pleasing to talk to, he’s also pleasing to look at. He’s like a cute boy-next-door kind of guy.

“I’ll be going ahead then!”

“Wait!” He turns around with an inquisitive look on his face. You want to keep him around longer for tonight. It’s been a rough day for you and you could use some sunshine. “Actually, I’d appreciate some help closing up. I’ll serve you something for dinner in return.” His face brightens up at your request. There it is. Mr. Sunshine, indeed. 

“Sure, y/n! Just tell me what to do.” 

He’s an efficient help to have. What you usually do in 40 minutes or so was done in just 20. 

“Wow, I should ask you to help out more often,” you say jokingly. “No problem, y/n! I can help out after deliveries.” 

You wave your hand frantically. “Oh no no no. I was just kidding, Shoyo. I can’t always give you dinner. The owner would notice when we do inventory.” You laugh apprehensively.

“You don’t have to! I don’t mind staying for a few minutes to help out after deliveries.”

You stare at him with an appreciative smile on your face. Bless his pure heart. Boys in Brazil could learn from him. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen to prepare your food real quick.”

He seats himself in one of the vacant lounges, grinning at you as you enter the kitchen. Since it was just him, you get it done in ten minutes or less. When you get out of the tiny room, he’s like a puppy salivating at the tray you’re holding. 

“Here you go, sir.” You jokingly say.

He doesn’t respond as his eyes twinkle at the food you laid out in front of him. Poor Shoyo. He must have been starving or maybe he’s just glad for the free food.

You decide to clean up the kitchen and the counter while you wait for him to finish, but he ate so fast that he’s done before you are. 

When he sees you still occupied, he takes it upon himself to get his used cutleries and wash it. He easily finds where to put them and he even wipes the table he sat on. If ever he asks you for another job, you’d instantly recommend him to the owner to replace one of the staff who’s basically a sloth. 

You two almost finish at the same time. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, y/n.” He bows. You’re thrown off at first, but you remember that he’s from Japan. 

“Thank you, Shoyo. Seriously. The help is nothing compared to the food.” You get out of the cashier and get your bag. You remove your apron and shove it there before leading him out of the diner as you lock it up. 

“I’ll walk you home, y/n.” 

You wave your hand dismissively. He’s done so much already. “No, it’s fine. You must be tired.” 

He shakes his head in disagreement. “Not really! I wanna walk a bit too, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I-”

“It’s okay!” You interrupt him. You do appreciate it if he’d accompany you home. You just thought he’s doing it to be kind and polite. “It’d be nice to chat with someone on the way home.” You tell him. He keeps his bicycle at his right while you’re at his left. 

Even as the night is fully settled in, Shoyo’s energy is still soaring as he narrates why he’s here in Rio. No wonder his eyes are always gleaming vividly. He wants to accomplish something badly that he traveled halfway across the world in a foreign country. And as you get sucked in his story, you don’t notice you’re at your apartment already. 

“I live right here. Do you wanna come in for tea or beer or whatever?” You invite him, wanting to hear more of his Volleyball journey. He seems glad from your invitation. Maybe he wanted someone to talk about it too.

“I’m okay with just water.”

You open your door and hold it out open for him. “You sure?”

He nods sprightly which makes you smile at the pure innocence he exudes. He eyes your whole place when he gets inside. “Wow. You live all alone, y/n?”

“Uh huh. I don’t like having roommates.”

“I think I’d get more homesick if I lived all alone,” he remarks.

From being awed, you begin to feel bad for him. It must be really tough to be so far away. “Well, you can always come here if you feel like talking or stuff,” you offer earnestly. You don’t mind him visiting every now and then. He’s such a positive energy amongst the dread of your everyday routine that’s constantly draining you. Also, You can’t imagine him being one of those guys who just hang out to get a slice of action. 

Since then, he frequently came over. 

On the days when he had deliveries for your diner, he’d help you close up. Instead of getting him dinner from the small diner, you two would get something on the way to your apartment or you’d fix him a quick meal when you get there.

He’s a comfortable company. Because he’s quite the talker, he never runs out of things to say. He not only talks about his life in Japan, but also here in Rio. You practically know all his friends here just from his stories.

“Didn’t they say anything when you wanted to leave?” You prod when he opened up missing his family. “They did, but they still pushed me to do it. They know what’s it for, and they know I’ll be back.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

A soft blush surfaces on his cheeks as he chuckles nervously. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh? Who’s the cute girl in your wallpaper then?” You’ve seen it several times when he looks at the time with his phone.

“She’s our Volleyball manager and a really good friend,” he explains as he gets his phone to show you something. “She’s been with the team since I was a first year.” He shows you a photo of him, a black-haired guy who’s probably Kageyama, and the cute blonde girl. 

Your attention all goes to him, his innocent beam at the camera while his arms are sprawled in the air. “Oh my God,” you exclaim while staring at the photo.

“You were so skinny!”

You look back and forth from the screen of his phone to him, comparing how he looked like then and how he looks like now. You pull your chair closer to him so you can scrutinize him more. He looked so young and pure back then. Literally, just a kid.  

“Wow.”

You gape at him, marveling at how his features have changed so much. Even if he still has that baby face, his face has definitely gained structure. And the scrawny boy in the photo? You can’t find that anymore with the Shoyo in front of you right now. He even has a nice tan going on that suits him so well. 

Without thinking, your hands fly to his shoulders to grasp the muscle he’s built after high school, squeezing them firmly before trailing down to his well-defined chest. Damn, he really put some nice work to achieve this. You drag your hands down to see how his abs are and holy crap, he’s fucking lean. 

Your gaze drops further just below where your hands are and see a faint outline of what he’s hiding beneath his shorts. 

“Ah!”

You immediately remove your hands off of him and raise your palms in mid air. “I’m so sorry! That was so perv- I mean rude of me to do that all of a sudden.” You apologize in a panicked tone, hoping that he didn’t think you were being handsy, even if you really were. 

“I was just amazed because you looked so different from the photo and uh..” you laugh to make up for the missing excuses you were supposed to say. 

He laughs with you, a timid smile gracing his face.

“It’s okay, y/n. You can continue touching me if you want.”

You squirm as you put your hands to your lap, clutching your shorts from the sudden thick air that engulfs the room. He sounded harmless. Even his face is his usual good-natured facade. But those words meant something else to you, an invitation to touch him more.

You let out a tense tither before turning to him. “No no! Haha. I’m fine. It was just on impulse.”

In an attempt to hide the awkwardness, you gather his used dishes and cutleries. “Let me get these washed up.” You stand up and hurriedly get to the sink. 

What was that weird sexual tension? That over there in your dining table is just your nice delivery boy, Shoyo. You’re nothing but co-workers who are just friendly to each other.

You let the cold water run on your fingers and wrists while you wash the dishes. You need to get back to him composed and cooled off. You want your relationship as it is now. You don’t want to feel awkward and bothered.

So what if you just realized that he’s hot and nice and completely alone with you?

“Do you need help with anything, y/n?

You yelp at the sound of his voice so close behind you. You can feel his warm breath fanning your neck and his body hovering at your back. He’s barely pressing against your back but you can already feel the ends of your hairs prickling your skin. 

“Wah! Why are you having goosebumps, y/n? Are you cold??”

“Yeah. It is a bit windy tonight.” You lie with a tense chuckle as you hasten your task so you could escape the situation. To worsen things for you, he places both hands on your bare shoulders and caresses them up and down to create heat. 

“I hope this is warm enough,” he says concernedly. 

It’s more than just warm. He’s supposed to create friction by rubbing your shoulders, but he’s skimming so gently on your skin that it’s fueling a different kind of heat stemming from your core from the supposed friendly gesture he’s doing to you. You fight off the urge to clench your thighs together for he might notice it since he’s just a hair away behind you. 

You saw him as a nice guy but his hands are making you feel otherwise. You had to bite your lower lip to suppress a whimper that was at the tip of your tongue. You can pass it off as a groan of relief, but with your current state, it might sound sexual. Since when were you this sensitive?

“Do you want me to prepare your green tea?” he kindly offers. 

“Yes, please,” you answer weakly. 

He takes his hands off you and gets you your green tea as he suggested to. You breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves. You feel like you’re about to break from how heavy his sexual pull is on you. Is he even aware? 

You dry your hands and saunter back to your dining table to take a seat and give your legs a break. Shoyo places the cup of tea in front of you and sits beside you. 

“Why do you always drink that, y/n? It doesn’t taste good.” 

“It’s to help me lose weight.” You draw the cup to your lips and take a sip. 

“Ehh? But you already look hot as you are.”

You almost choked on your tea from what he just said. You weren’t expecting such an adjective from him. With trembling fingers, you return the cup to the table. “You okay, y/n?” He asks worriedly. 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He can’t help but notice that you’ve been on the edge since you felt him up. He believes that you did it with no malicious intent, so he really didn’t mind. He knows that all you think of him is a good help to the diner. That’s why you comfortably invited him to your home, but he can see right now that he’s made you uncomfortable for some reason.

Maybe you’re really embarrassed with what just happened even if he did say it was fine. He really was okay with you touching him, even if it was something more than just touching. But it’s not like you see him like that.

He likes you a lot, so he should just go so he doesn’t make you any more uneasy. “It’s getting late, so I’ll go now, y/n.” 

When he stands up, you immediately follow. “Oh? Already?” You ask with a hint of disappointment in your voice, which makes him a bit confused. Did you not want him to? 

“Do you want me to stay for a bit longer?”

You look at him hesitantly before shaking your head. He smiles amicably at you for the usual hospitality you’ve given him. “Thanks for the dinner, y/n.” He looks at the time and heads for the door. 

“Shoyo!”

He shifts his body to your direction while he waits for what you’re going to say “I- uhhh. Sorry about a while ago.”

He strides back to where you are and grabs your hand, slowly leading it to his chest with a faint grin playing on the corners of his lips. “It really is okay, y/n.” When your palm lands on his pecs, you just let it stay in one spot as you look at him differently than usual. You regard him with doe eyes gleaming with baffled curiosity.

With his grip still on your wrist, he does the work for you and guides your hand down to where you touched him just a while ago. Your line of sight follows your hand while his is completely focused on you, anticipating your reaction if you’re satisfied with just this.

He lets go of your wrist, allowing you to do as you please. You raise your gaze to meet his, your eyes asking him for permission.

“I really don’t mind, y/n.” 

Your other hand goes to his bicep, firmly grasping it before you take one step closer to him. Both 

your hands travel to his midsection, the feel of your delicate caress making his thoughts not as friendly as it used to be. Especially with how impressed you look with your hands all over him.

“Can I touch you too?” He blurts out without thinking. 

He instantly regrets it when he sees the surprised look on your face as you pull your hands away.

“No! I didn’t mean t-“

You silence him instantly by putting a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t say anything,” you mutter as you usher his one hand to your waist.

You remove your hand from his mouth and use it to lead his other hand on your neck. You don’t know what you’re doing. You keep your eyes on his neck while he languidly roams his left hand on the small of your back until his arm is wrapped around you. He doesn’t move his right hand away from your neck. He only strokes it tenderly with his thumb. 

“Y/n.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you raise your gaze to him. “Can we do more than just touching?”

Instead of answering him, you yield to the heavy sensual pull that you’ve been trying to ignore earlier. You slowly reach for his lips, wanting to gradually settle yourself in the present situation.

But when your lips touched his, he didn’t share the same idea you had as he wastes no time exploring your mouth with his. All the hesitation he had is gone with his hand dropping down to your ass to give it a firm squeeze which draws you even closer to him, letting you feel his erection against your core. 

He doesn’t take his mouth off of yours as he leads you to the dining table, taking both of your ass cheeks in his hands and carrying your weight as he guides you to sit at the edge of the table. 

When you’re comfortably seated, he tugs the flank of your shirt and hurriedly takes it off you. You want to look at him to see what he looks like when he’s not being the nice Shoyo you used to see him as. But he gets back to your mouth in just a second, sticking his tongue out to let it wander inside your warm cavern. 

His hands immediately find the clasp of your bra and unhooks it with ease. That’s when he pulled away. His eyes are glued to your body as he removes the undergarment slowly, as if he’s unwrapping his gift with the slow reveal of your breasts.

His eyes glimmer with delight when he completely slides the clothing off your arms. It kinda makes you conscious with the way he’s staring at you, like his eyes are burning through your skin. You use one arm to cover your boobs, but he instantly sees through your plan. 

As soon as you lift your arm, soft panic sets off in his eyes. He immediately grips your wrist and slams your hand against the table.

“Don’t!” 

“But you were staring too much.”

His gaze drops down again to your unclad breasts with reverence. “Cause you’re pretty.” He leans down on you again, his plush lips just within an easy reach from yours. “So pretty that I can’t stop staring.” 

You expect him to kiss you again, but his mouth latches on your jaw instead, nipping the sensitive skin beneath it. A soft sigh comes out of your already parted lips while his palms trace the length of both your arms up to your shoulders. He kisses his way down to your collar bones, savoring any skin that his lips graze upon until he reaches one soft mound. 

His hands follow the trails of his lips, one finding its way on the curve of your hip while the other stops on your breast where his mouth isn’t latched onto.

He delivers sloppy kisses, sucking on your perk nipple and swirling his tongue on it like it was a treat. The other bud isn’t left out as he plays with it, tweaking it between his thumb and index finger. 

Your breathing starts to become shallow from the surge of desire spreading throughout your body. 

He cups both sides of your boobs and pushes them together before he continues on, letting his tongue toy with your nipples almost simultaneously. He’s so into it that his teeth accidentally scrape one bud.

“Ah!”

He immediately stops and looks at you apologetically, misunderstanding the moan that came from you.

“Sorry...”

“No. It felt good,” you feebly tell him.

His eyes brighten up and gets back to what he’s doing. He takes the hard bud in between his teeth, tugging it lightly as he looks up to you, his orbs eager for your approval. It spurs you on even more. You give him one nod as you feel your cunt throbbing from how your arousal is heightening by the minute. 

“Shoyo,” you call him weakly which he didn’t seem to hear. 

He lets go of your breasts and licks his way down right on top of your shorts, leaving a trail of saliva on your skin. He unbuttons your shorts, the sound of your zipper being rolled down letting you know what he’s planning. 

“Shoyo.” You call out louder this time, causing his hand to rest on your groin. “Let’s go to my room already.” You expect him to be glad, but he frowns. “But I want to taste you already. Please, y/n? I want to eat you out here.”

Your legs quiver from how much he wants you, his eagerness affecting you as you yourself get impatient and wonder how his tongue would feel on your pussy. 

“Do it.” He smiles at your approval as you lift your ass off the table to help him get your shorts off. You aren’t surprised that he tugs your underwear together with it as he peels it off you. You’re starting to get an idea how he is at bed - impatient, excitable, and eager to please.

A subtly smirk tugs up your lips when you realize you’re in for a fun night. 

He doesn’t notice it though. He takes a step back to relish the vision that you are. His eyes are completely focused on your bare body with keen hunger as he traces every curve in sight. You indulge him a bit by spreading your legs apart for him to see.

“Wow.”

His eyes don’t leave your cunt while he drags the chair he’s previously sitting on. He spreads your legs even further as he sits down. He places his thumbs on your inner thighs, gently caressing them before he stripes one thumb on your slit.

“You’re so wet, y/n,” he says right before dipping down and tracing his tongue where his thumb just did earlier. He continues doing so, licking up and down the length of your opening as you lean your head back to enjoy what he’s giving you. He eagerly slurps on your juices, lapping on your slit with his hot tongue.

He uses his thumbs to spread your folds that surround your clit, exposing the swollen bud for him to taste. When he gives it a delicate, languid lick, your one hand frantically grips his hair. He takes it up a notch and inserts his middle finger inside .

“Haaa,” you moan out loud which urges him on even more. He pumps his finger inside you, gradually picking up the pace when you start squirming within his hold. 

“Another,” you tell him breathlessly.

“Another what?” He asks cluelessly while his mouth continues ravaging your clit. “Add another finger,” you answer to which he complies immediately. He stretches you even more with the addition of one thick, calloused finger inside.

He looks up at you, parting his mouth away from your pussy to show you his two digits that are half inside you. “Like this?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Like,” He suddenly shoves the two fingers knuckles deep into you. “thathnnnnggg.” You clutch his hair tighter while your mouth gapes at the instant fullness you feel down in your center. His eyes don't leave your face anymore as he latches his mouth back on your hardened clit. 

You’re whining while grinding on his face, getting wetter even as he relentlessly drinks your lewd essence. He loves the look on your face, blissed out and completely lost in the moment. He loves how you keep trying to close your legs together even with his arm not allowing you to do so. He loves the desire glimmering clearly in your eyes as you meet his gaze while he feasts on your pussy. 

He already got aroused the first time you touched him. Seeing you unravel before him gets his cock throbbing painfully within his shorts. He’s so tempted to remove his arm and let you crush him between your thighs so he can palm his cock.

He doesn’t even know if you’d let him go any further than this. What if after you cum you change your mind and ask him to go home? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. He’ll just replay the scene before him as he jacks off in his own room. 

His one hand goes inside his shorts and takes out his cock, causing your thigh to waver without his support. He grasps the base of his dick, squeezing it firmly, easily distracting himself with his own pleasure as he moans in your cunt. 

You immediately notice. You see him firmly gripping his member, pumping it steadily up and down with eyes closed as he slows down his ministrations with you. You cup his face, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you again. “Stop fucking yourself. I’ll do it with my mouth after you make me cum.”

He stops like you asked him to. “Really?” His eyes pleading with lust to uphold your erotic promise. “Yeah. So make cum already,” you brazenly order him. He tucks his cock back in his shorts right away, using his arm once again to spread you wide. His mouth, lips, and fingers pick up the pace, thrusting swiftly in and out of your while flicking and sucking at your clit.

“Ooohhh fuck.” You claw on your wooden table from the rapid build up of pleasure. You can feel the heat in your groin, spreading quickly through your body. “Yes, yesss. Don’t stop,” you mindlessly whine. Everything he’s doing is pushing you further to your release - the friction and fullness provided by his fingers and the wild strokes of his tongue on your clit. He suddenly curves his fingers, hitting just the right spot that blurred your vision from how good it feels. 

“Cumming... am cumming, Shoyo!!” You trash helplessly on his face as the pleasure floods your senses, but he doesn’t stop. He only slows down, matching your post-orgasm state as you come down from your high. 

You tug his hair up while panting to catch your breath. “Come here.” He stands up and you reach for the back of his head to cover his mouth with yours, tasting your own fluids in his lips. “Help me get down,” you whisper to him. 

He effortlessly grabs the back of your thighs to get you to stand again. Once your feet reach the floor, you release his lips and drag him to your room. 

Once inside, you lock lips with him again as you scurry towards your bed. You get him to lie down as you straddle him, your wetness rubbing on the bulge of his shorts. You hurriedly remove his clothes, itching to see the delicious muscles you touched only with his shirt on. He helps you as he tugs down his shorts and underwear, his last piece of clothing thrown somewhere on the floor. 

You bite your lower lip as your eyes roam on his body. He should thank beach volleyball for the tan and the jaw-dropping build. Your gaze falls on his naked bulge that you saw a glimpse of earlier. Damn. You weren’t seeing things earlier. He really is packing down there. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks with a worried look, returning your gaze back at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s,” Your eyes get distracted with how he gulps, your gaze lingering down again on his gorgeous chest. “..fine.”  

You return the favor, starting on his neck. You plant your arms on his shoulder as you move your hips up, resting your cunt on his toned abs. You deliver soft kisses on the delicate skin of his neck, letting your tongue sneak a few licks as you go down on him until his cock is within the reach of your mouth. 

You position yourself in between his legs as you grip his shaft. His hips lift up from the contact. You watch his reactions as you start to drag your palm around his member up and down. He’s already heaving with lips parted as he takes the pleasure you’re giving him with eyes closed. You find it cute - how he’s this sensitive when you’re barely done anything yet. 

You gather your spit and let it drool at his cock, the translucent liquid glazing the tip down to the base. You trace his length with your index finger, from the tiny slit of his tip down to his balls. You go back up to the head of his cock, but you do it with your tongue instead of your finger. 

You peek at him again. He’s semi sitting up with his elbows on the cushion as he glues his eyes on your tongue on his dick. You grip him again, tighter this time before pressing one digit firmly on his tip. He throws his head back from the pressure and you use that chance to take his thick girth in your mouth

His thighs tremble as he lets out a euphoric moan while you sink lower and lower on his dick. “Your mouth -aahhh so gooood.” 

He really likes you and thinks you’re fun to talk to, but sometimes he’d catch himself fantasizing about you when he gets home and ends up masturbating at the thought of you sucking him off. But his right hand doesn’t even compare to the actual warmth of your lips wrapped around his dick at present.

He keeps his eyes on you, which is a bad idea for him since it’s only quickening the pleasure that was boiling at the pit of his stomach. But he can’t help but stare at you. You look so good, so pretty, with your ass up as you suck him even faster.

He can feel his cum threatening to explode already. He feels so lame, but your mouth just feels so magnificent that he can’t hold it in any further. “Stop, y/n. Please~ aah ahhh gonna cum already.” He doesn’t want you to be disappointed with him, but it’s as if you didn’t hear him. You even go deeper while quickening your pace.

He gives in to it, gripping your hair as the peak of his pleasure takes over. He expects you to pull away, but you continue sucking, letting him shoot his load at the back of your throat. 

You take all of it, swallowing every drop he let out in your mouth. You did hear him say stop, but the lascivious delight on his face contradicted his words. You had to let him finish even if that meant you won’t get to feel how his cock feels inside your already sopping pussy. 

You sit up as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. As for Shoyo, he covers his eyes with his forearm while he pants. You start to get up and head for your drawers when you feel him grab your wrist before you can even leave the bed

“Where are you going?” He asks. 

“To get dressed.”

“But we’re not done yet?”

You appreciate the thought. He really is such a generous guy, but.. “It’s fine, Shoyo. You don’t have to force it. You’re already soft??” Your statement becomes a question when you see his arousal still erect. 

You don’t know whether to be amused or amazed at that, so you end up staring dumbfounded at him who’s still lying on his back.

He grins at you as he sits up straight and goes for your lips. It wasn’t soft and gentle like you expect from someone who just came. He seems even hungrier, more eager for you. 

He guides your hand to his shaft, confirming that he’s hard and ready to continue with what you have in mind. You smile into the kiss, curious and excited as to how he feels inside your pussy. Horny as you are, you throw yourself at him which causes him to lie back down again with you on top of him. 

As your tongues clash against one another, you rub your moist slit against his erection, teasing both yourself and him while doing so. He’s groaning in your mouth while he keeps one hand on the back of your head and the other firmly gripping your waist. “Y/n, can I put in already?” He asks with hazy eyes even though his hand on your waist goes down to his cock and aligns it on your folds.

“Mmm, wait.” You lift yourself off of him and reach for your purse that was hanging on one of the metal bed frames. You quickly get a condom and throw your purse somewhere. You tear the packet and remove his hand from his shaft to unroll the rubber on it while he watches. You take over his previous attempt and position the tip on your entrance. You place a palm on his stomach to anchor yourself as you lower yourself on him. 

He stares at you mesmerized while you wince from how his cock is spreading you open. You ball your fist that was still on his abdomen, trying to get used to the discomfort even if he’s still not fully inside you. He recovers first and glances back on how you’re doing. 

“Shoyo, you’re-ughhh-big,” you tell him with a pained expression. “I- I am?” He asks with pink streak surfacing on his cheeks, flattered from what you said. You nod while sinking lower until you finally cover the last inch, taking him entirely inside you.

He whips his head back on to the pillow with his cock completely sheathed inside the tight warmth of your pussy. He thought your mouth was already marvelous, but the way your walls deliciously envelop his cock is way beyond his wet dreams. 

Your hand joins the other, supporting yourself as you slowly lift your hips up and descend back down with the same agonizing tempo. While you adjust to his size, he keeps his eyes on his cock disappearing each bob of your hip. 

From your pussy, he rakes his eyes up to your naked body glimmering with sweat. You look so beautiful with your eyes shut, gaping lips, and tits bouncing altogether as you speed up. “You look so fucking pretty, y/n.” Your eyes flutter open from the unexpected vulgarity he uttered. It wasn’t like him, but it wasn’t forced either. He regards you with lust swimming in his orbs, the courteous friendship you two have totally erased as of this moment. 

You still for a second before you remove your hands off him and place them on his thighs as you lean back. You spread your thighs and plant the soles of your feet on your bed. You see his eyes widen because of the view. Rather bouncing up and down, you gyrate on his cock. It’s supposed to be a show for him, but with his size, you feel his cock gloriously scrape your insides with the circular movement of your hips. 

“Shit!” You curse before you close your eyes again as you start grinding on him. You don’t start slow this time. You impatiently roll your hips against his, driving his cock deep inside you each plunge. You didn’t think it would get any better than this until you feel his thumb on your neglected cit.

“Oh ffffuuuck.” You can’t even open your eyes anymore while his two fingers replace his thumb and rub the sensitive bud frantically. You could feel the pleasure escalating faster and faster with every salacious thrust of your hip and his every flick of your clit..

“Are you gonna cum, y/n?” You hear him ask. 

“Yesss. Am gonna cuuuuuummmm.” You clutched his legs tighter when your orgasm hits, your vision blurry when you open your eyes as you ride it out. He pulls your panting self to his chest and tenderly caresses your back.

He sweeps your hair behind your ear and whispers. “Did that feel nice?” 

You nod weakly. “Did you cum?” You ask in return. You were so occupied in your own pleasure that you lost awareness of his. He chuckles lowly. “No.”

“Oh..” You lift yourself up a bit to meet his gaze and apologize. 

“Why are you saying sorry? We aren’t done yet.”

What he said as a question earlier became a statement. Something changed in his eyes, a spark of determination that isn’t there earlier.

“Let’s just continue next time, Shoyo. I’m kind of tired,” you explain.

“There’s a next time?!” His eyes shine with enthusiasm which makes you laugh softly.

“Sure. Why not?” You lift your hips up but his hands quickly go down your ass and crash you back down, shoving his dick back in you hard and deep.

“Gaah!” 

“Thanks, y/n. But don’t worry about being tired. I’ll move instead,” he hums on your ear as he spreads your ass cheeks and pummels his cock wildly into your sensitive pussy.

You moan on his neck at the savage pace he starts with. “Shoyo, pleaseee. Sloweer mmmmm.”

“But why?” He whines. You can’t answer with how ferociously he’s rutting against you, his dick consistent with its swift thrusts. “Shit, your pussy feels amazing. So good, fuck.” His crude words of praise fan your pleasure that was rapidly filling your senses again. 

He rams your hips down to meet one sharp thrust. You gasp from how deep his cock went inside you. “Aaah!” 

“Do I make you feel good, y/n?”

You nod weakly as you grind slowly on his cock, desperate to chase your pleasure but too tired from your earlier stunt.

“Please, move,” you whisper with exhaustion.

“Tell me first. I want to hear it,” he demands.

“Too good, Shoyo. Your cock feels too good. So please, fuck me again already,” you shamelessly beg as his cock throbs inside you. 

Instead of granting your plea, he takes his cock out and pulls you to lie underneath him. He parts your legs apart for him and jams his dick right back inside. That’s when he indulges you, thrusting his size in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. 

He leans down on you, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pins both your hands on the bed. “Do you like this, y/n?” 

“I love it. Please please pleaaaaseee. Don’t stop mmmmmm,” you babble messily as your impending orgasm overwhelms you.

He clumsily kisses you, his teeth grazing your lips as slips his tongue in before covering his mouth with yours. He’s groaning relentlessly on your mouth while drilling his dick in your cunt. “You gonna cum?” 

“Yeaass haaa.” Your moans become louder and louder each thrust. “Gonna cum like this? With-ugh-my cock inside you?”

His obscene words make you writhe beneath him. You arch your back from the intense pleasure. He dips down on one nipple and fervidly sucks it. “Gonna c-aahhhhhhh.” You thrash violently beneath him as your hands clench his to ground yourself from the explosive orgasm that he caused.

“Fuck, yes. Cum on my cock, uhhh. Like that. Shit.”

His thrusts become erratic as he goes after his own orgasm while he milks yours. You hazily open your eyes and watch him chase his high with eyes shut and parted lips, animalistic pleasure taking over his features. He delivers one swift thrust and stays completely still, his dick twitching inside you as he cums.

You both pant heavily with him on top of you.

— 

You open the door for him and bid him goodnight. Your legs feel like crap but you don’t want to just drive him away on his own.

“Thanks for tonight, Shoyo.”

You’re not sure what you’re thanking him for, the company or the sex. Maybe both. 

“Um, y/n?” 

“Yeah?”

“Will there really be a next time?” He asks apprehensively, totally different from his demeanor from your last moments in bed. It’s kinda amusing. You didn’t think he had that in him.

“You’ll still help me close up the diner, right?” You ask meaningfully.

He beams at you. “Of course.”

Beach || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem​ @akaashisslavee @tsumurai  @celestialarchiveshq​ @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @crescenttooru @yashuaaa @liberhoe​

[bosspigeon]

if you're still bleeding

Pairing: Jax/M!Merc

Words: 2657

Summary: Jax should know better. He should know to mind his own damn business. But, unfortunately, he's well beyond "knowing better" now that he's gone and gotten tangled up with an unhinged mercenary with more knives than sense, and the scars that say the chances of him finding any sense are slim to none.

and if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones.

'cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.

we're setting fire to our insides for fun.

collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home,

it was a flood that wrecked this home.

- "Youth" by Daughter

CW for: implied/referenced sex, sexual humor/innuendos, references to blood, violence, and trauma, and implications of kink

Knox is a man with scars.

Jax has plenty of his own, of course, but Knox has a lot of scars. There's a story to most of them, too, and he's never shy about telling them. Hell, half the time he tells those stories completely unprompted, whether you want him to or not.

There's a scar on his chin from where Royal told him he couldn't knee slide the entire bar. There’s the ugly knot of scar tissue where his left arm used to be, where the port to his prosthetic is grafted on. There's the scar in his stomach from the mook Jax had to help him bury. There's a scar on his lip where he bit himself too hard with his freakishly sharp teeth trying to keep quiet while Jax bent him over the hood of his car outside Saints and Sinners in the wee hours of the morning.

He's particularly happy to blab the story about that one to anyone who'll listen.

But he doesn't talk about the scar across his throat.

As little clothing as he tends to wear on the day to day, ("As little as I can get away with," he says with a sleazy wink) his neck is always covered. High-collared shirts, a jauntily knotted scarf, decorative chokers and heavy leather collars always keep it covered. He'll flash his tits before he'll show his throat—but in all fairness, it's not really all that hard to get him to flash his tits.

Jax didn't even see the scar until the fourth or fifth inadvisable hate fuck, at which point he was beginning to think he didn't hate the merc quite as much as he thought, considering he kept letting the little bastard in when he showed up at the door out of nowhere—and didn't shoot him when he decided to forgo the door entirely and come in through the window. (Jax still can’t be sure how he even got to the window, seeing as Jax lives in an apartment well above ground level, but he figures he’s better off not asking.) He didn’t think to ask about it until he’d actually lost count of how many inadvisable hate-fucks there’d been, and when they’d progressed somehow from inadvisable hate-fucks to still pretty inadvisable but otherwise amicable casual fucks.

Knox was loose and relaxed, quiet in a way Jax didn't even think was possible when they first met. And, to think, all it took was shoving him face down into the pillows and thoroughly wearing him out. Usually, he rolled out of bed as soon as his legs could hold him again, commandeered Jax's shower, and used half a bottle of his expensive conditioner before he disappeared without so much as a thank you. This time, he stayed. He sprawled gracelessly across Jax's sweat-stained silk sheets, arms stretched over his head, eyes half-closed and his ever-smirking mouth curled into something softer... almost sweeter.

Jax doesn't know what possessed him to roll over, to reach out and touch, but he did. He started at the inner thigh, the bruises he'd left with teeth and then fingers, a rumbling of possessive pride stoking the banked coals of satisfaction in his belly. His knuckles skimmed the soft curve of the merc's belly, the angry red scar tissue of that knife wound, then higher still. Inked into his sternum is a coyote skull, surrounded by boldly outlined flowers that curve along the underside of his breasts. Jax was almost surprised by the softness of the design, especially in comparison to the rest of the merc's ink, like the crude stick-and-poke perforated line and little pair of scissors right above his prosthetic, or the dirty pinup of some generic muscled pretty boy on his bicep, or the peach on his inner thigh that bears an artful addition of a T-dick very much similar to Knox’s own.

He wondered vaguely if the flowers meant anything to Knox.

Before he could dwell on the uncomfortably tender direction his thoughts had taken, his fingers travelled upwards, flicking absently at one of the heavy, angular piercing through Knox's nipples. Knox huffed a rough laugh, watching the progress of Jax's hand through eyes narrowed to dozy, yellow slits.

He traced Knox's collarbone, and his body was all but melted into Jax's bed, soft and pliant. Like he belonged there.

And then Jax’s curiosity got the better of him. He saw the scar, a thin line, pale with age, but standing in stark relief against Knox's tanned skin. It sits at a bit of an angle, slicing across the middle of the merc's throat.

The second his fingers made contact, skimming that raised line of flesh, he knew he'd fucked up.

Knox's body went taut for a split second, and that was all the warning Jax got before Knox was twisting his wrist hard enough for the bones to grind together and snarling in his face like a wild animal. If his knives weren't two rooms away in his discarded pile of clothes, Jax knows he would have lost fingers.

For once, Knox didn't say anything. For once, he was dead silent, mouth a grim sneer, eyes flat and hard. He shoved Jax roughly off him and rolled out of bed. He didn't look back once, stalking out of Jax's bedroom naked, every inch of his compactly muscled body vibrating with tension. Jax heard the rustle of clothes, the jingle of buckles and zippers and a half dozen knives, and then the front door slamming shut.

He didn't see Knox again until Orla called them in for another job, and it was as if nothing had happened. He was his usual smug, annoying self, not a single break in his usual facade of irreverent humor and Napoleonic bravado.

And maybe some of Knox's reckless stupidity is rubbing off on him, because Jax can't shake the curiosity that grips him, even now. He shoves it down, naturally, because he doesn't want the batshit merc to get twitchy on him again when he's got enough knives on him at any given time to outfit a military squadron. Hell, for all Jax knows, that's the end of it. He's not going to go crawling back to Knox (even if the sex is really fucking good—it's always the crazy ones, isn’t it?) and he knows Knox won't come to him first.

Except he does, dragging Jax into one of the back rooms after a meeting with Orla, shoving him against the wall, and dropping to his knees. Things go right back to normal after that, or as normal as they ever are with Coyote Fucking Knox. And as normal as they can be once Orla oh-so-sweetly reminds him there are cameras in the back rooms, and if he doesn't want stills of his dick forwarded to the entire Mirage gang, he'll keep his and Knox's exhibitionism where she doesn't have to see it.

So Knox continues to invade Jax's privacy, steal petty shit from his apartment and/or pockets, and loudly demand that Jax fuck him hoarse (-er) if he wants him to shut up.

And he winds up tangled in Jax's sheets again, sprawled out on his belly with one leg tossed over Jax's thigh, his face smashed into a pillow, one smug yellow eye watching Jax try to catch his breath beside him.

He could let it be. It's not like this is anything but a convenience. Some fun between… well, they're definitely not friends. Coworkers, if anything, and even that's pushing it. For a while, Jax considered it a fair trade for dealing with Knox's bullshit constantly. Now, it's becoming a pattern, and when it comes to semi-regular sex with a stab-happy mercenary, patterns can be dangerous.

But he can't kill the curiosity.

He figures his best bet is being blunt. And maybe getting ready to dodge in the very likely event things go south. He doesn't touch this time, at least not where they aren't already, Knox’s knee between his legs, the skin feeling a bit feverish and clammy as the sweat cools. The urge to touch is still there—he left some nice bite marks on Knox's shoulders he'd like to reacquaint himself with—but he ignores it for now. He rolls onto his side, meets that one yellow eye with quiet consideration, and props his head up on his hand.

Knox must read the change in his face, because he goes from cat-got-the-cream contentment to a warily curious tension. Jax just goes right for the throat, so to speak. “Any chance of hearing the story behind that one?” he says, casual as anything, and nods in the vague direction of Knox’s neck.

There’s a growling noise building up behind Knox’s teeth, but he bites it back. He smiles, but it feels feral, like an animal baring its teeth looks like a smile, but it's really a threat. It looks brittle, like it'll shatter if he tightens his jaw any further.

Jax gives in to the urge, reaching out to touch, fingertips skimming down the mercenary's spine. A shiver ripples across the skin. He’s not sure if it’s the right move, but at this point, if you’re going to Hell...

“I don’t know,” Knox says flatly, and Jax is almost shocked he answered at all. There’s no inflection, no mirth. Just that broken-glass smile.

Jax snorts. Knox never fucking shuts up, that much is true, but Jax isn’t stupid. He knows when someone’s talking a lot and saying nothing of importance on purpose, and he also knows when Knox can’t deflect, he lies his ass off like he was born to do it. Even Orla barely knows anything about her least favorite favorite merc or where he came from, though the chances of her caring enough to even try to find out are slim to none. Still, he has no idea what the mercenary even has to gain from lying, especially here. "If you don't want to say anything, just tell me to fuck off."

The knife edge smile stretches wider. Tips closer to the breaking point. "Fuck off," he echoes like a parrot.

Something starts to uncurl in Jax's gut, something burbling and acidic, a nasty niggling feeling he can't quite name. "You're serious," he says, and he doesn't want to believe it, mostly because he can't imagine someone like Knox taking that sort of… personal unknown well. “Nothing?”

The smile cracks, and Knox lifts his head so Jax gets the full effect of it. His eyes are wide, wild, and suddenly that smile is too big for his face. Slowly, he sits up, and there's the scar. Old and faded, but splitting his throat neatly and boldly from east to west. He drags his thumb across it, digs it in hard enough the white scar tissue goes a bit pink. He laughs. He's never had a pleasant laugh, rough and raspy and mean. Somehow, this one is worse. “Not a lick,” he drawls, and the effort it takes him to sound so casual almost makes Jax cringe. “There’s a reason Orla found me in the fuckin’ bargain bin.” He taps his temple, his messily painted nail clicking against the chip in his head.

Jax’s eyes flick down to the scar, frowning deeply. It doesn’t make sense. Knox is deflecting again, he has to be, but there’s something in the way he’s holding himself, the tension radiating from him, the way he slumps against the headboard of Jax’s bed with his knees pulled up, not quite close enough to hug to his chest, but more like he’s thinking about it, resisting the urge to physically hold himself together and risk looking weak.

"I have nightmares, sometimes," he admits, so soft the syllables catch on the rough edges of his ragged voice. "They never make any fucking sense. I'm just… I'm choking. Something’s cutting into my neck, and there’s someone behind me, and I know them, but— But I'm guilty? I don't know for what." He laughs, bitterly brittle. "Could be fucking anything. Got a lot to be guilty for that I can remember, never mind what I can't."

He inhales, and it sounds like it hurts him, like his breath is made of shards of glass. He drags his hand down his face until he can curl his fingers around his throat so the scar doesn't show. "I just know there's this perfume Orla wears that makes me want to climb the fucking walls and I don't know why. I think I know how to play the piano, but I can’t even look at one without wanting to smash it to pieces. Sometimes I hear some… some fucking opera song, or some shit? And I know the words, and I want to sing along, but then my voice just—just cracks, and I feel like… like a broken fucking wind-up toy? It's like my head doesn't remember anything, but the rest of me does and it makes me so fucking angry. What am I missing? Why does it matter?” His voice hitches dangerously, and there’s a stab of panic in Jax’s belly, his hands twitching like they want to—to reach out? “Why can’t it just leave me the fuck alone?"

Knox squeezes his own throat so hard the skin dimples around his fingers and bleeds white where he’s cutting off bloodflow. His shoulders tremble. There's something in the furrow of his brow, the twist of his mouth, that says angry isn't the only thing it makes him, but he either doesn't have the words to say it, or he just won't, not even to himself.

The silence falls again. Jax always thought he preferred silence where Knox was concerned. Turns out he was wrong. This silence is brutal, heavy and choking and just… wrong. When Knox does see fit to break it, it's with a loud exhale that almost makes Jax start.

"Would you look at the time," the merc says loudly, shaking out his bare wrist and looking at it critically. Jax could almost laugh. Knox tosses his legs over the edge of the bed smiling crookedly over his shoulder. "I should really head out, huh? Don't wanna overstay my welcome."

Before he can think, Jax snaps a hand out and catches Knox’s hip, squeezing. Not enough to stop him if he really wants to go, but enough to give him pause. Once again, Jax counts himself lucky they rarely make it to the bedroom before one or both of them are naked, which means all those knives are somewhere by the door, or scattered across his coffee table, or in the leather jacket tossed over the back of his couch. Coyote turns slightly, just enough to eyeball him. Just one yellow eye.

There's a lot Jax could say, a lot he even wants to, but there's something raw in that one yellow eye, something wary and broken that just wants to hide somewhere quiet and lick its wounds. They've been at this for way too fucking long at this point, Jax should know what to do with that, shouldn't he?

Maybe he does.

He snorts. "When the fuck have you ever cared about overstaying your welcome?" He smacks Knox's hip just on the wrong side of gentle, and rolls over. "You're not leaving until you help me change these sheets. Hell, maybe if I'm feeling generous, I'll let you back in bed after we shower."

He pushes up to his feet and stretches out the kinks in his muscles, allowing himself to luxuriate in the pleasant soreness leftover from their romp. Knox is quiet behind him, and he can't really think of when he actually started to trust the crazy bastard enough to turn his back to him.

Knox makes a rough little sound, something not quite a laugh. "Is that an order, Sir?" he asks, low and raspy-sweet.

Jax glances back with a raised eyebrow. "Do I need to make it one?"

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

1, 8 21. Tendou/Kagami.

1. “Do you want me to stop?” 8. “Are you hungry?” 21. “Do you promise?”

Souji’s an attractive man in general, but there’s something about his legs in particular that just makes Arata completely lose his mind. It’s not just that they’re good legs, although they are incredibly good legs--it’s that there seems to be a lot of them. Arata’s not sure how that works, since Souji’s not actually much taller than him, but he’s not going to argue with it.

They’re in bed. They’re not even doing anything, too drowsy and slow to bother with anything past the pleasure of proximity. Souji is very nearly asleep, in fact, his head on Arata’s arm and his back against Arata’s chest. The way his eyelashes lie against his cheekbones when he closes his eyes is very slightly intoxicating. Arata’s only slightly more awake, and using most of his wakefulness to look at Souji.

What an amazing thing, he thinks, sleepily, getting to look at him like this.

“Mm?”

“Shit, did I say that out loud?”

“Did you not mean to? I appreciated hearing it.”

“Because you’re vain.”

“I am not vain,” Souji says, with as much dignity as he can manage while he’s half asleep, which is admittedly a lot. "I just enjoy hearing your voice."

"Especially when I'm complimenting you."

Souji says nothing to that, just radiates self-satisfaction.

It’s frustratingly attractive. Arata’s going to die of how beautiful he is, and how little distance has to be covered to run a hand down his side like he’s a cat to be petted. Which he responds to by shifting slightly into the touch and making himself more comfortable, and maybe Arata’s not as tired as he thought. So--a kiss pressed to the back of Souji’s neck, which gets a small pleased noise,and then a slow trail of fingers down ribs and stomach and hip to stupidly perfect thigh.

Souji twitches away from him for a moment.

Arata frowns. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, by all means.” Souji also sounds slightly more awake. “Continue.”

“You twitched, though, did I do something that hurt? Do you have a bruise that I didn’t see or something?”

“Not at all, I’m fine.”

Frowning, Arata flexes his hand, enjoying feeling the outline of Souji’s muscles under his skin, and Souji twitches again, and realization dawns. “Are you ticklish?”

There’s a slightly-too-long pause before Souji says, “I am not.” He’s still turned away, but just enough of his face is visible to see that his eyes have gone wide.

“Oh, you liar.” Arata grins against Souji’s shoulder and drags a finger back up Souji’s leg, and Souji squirms. “You are ticklish. I found a weakness on the, the path of heaven.”

“You’ve found nothing of the--hmm.” Souji claps a hand over his mouth as Arata’s fingertips spider-walk back up his side. “You’re a cruel man,” he says into his palm, voice shaking with heavily-suppressed laughter.

“Why, because I think it’s kind of cute when you actually laugh?”

“There are oth-other ways,” and he bites down on the side of his hand for a moment, “there are other ways to make me laugh. Ones which don’t involve tormenting me.”

--

For once, Arata is awake first, probably because he drank too much coffee in the evening. It’s early, not long after sunrise, so he’s quiet as he goes to the bathroom, not wanting Juka to wake up and see him. Not that she doesn’t know, really, but she very politely pretends not to notice, and the fiction’s easier to maintain when he’s not coming out of her brother’s bedroom at quarter of six in the morning, wearing her brother’s bathrobe.

When he comes back from the bathroom, he stops in the bedroom doorway for a moment and just looks. Souji asleep is a precious sight, both in that he’s normally the first one awake and because he’s rarely so obviously vulnerable. He lies on his side, very still, the sheets stark white against his skin--he picked up a tan in France, and has maintained it since his return to Japan. Because, despite his insistence otherwise, he’s vain.

“I enjoy how you look at me,” he says when Arata gets back in bed, voice slurred a bit with sleep.

“I enjoy looking at you. You have amazing bedhead, it’s adorable.” Before the inevitable protest to the contrary, Arata continues with, “Are you hungry?”

“Slightly, but I’m not inclined to get up yet.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll make something and bring it to you. Breakfast in bed.”

Souji’s eyes open immediately, and Arata isn’t sure whether to be charmed or offended by his look of surprise. “You’re offering to cook for me?”

“Is that such a weird idea?”

“It’s...unexpected.”

“Well, it’s not like I know how to cook all the nice traditional stuff you do, but I know some Western recipes. You know, uh, pancakes. Denver omelette.”

“Fascinating. What’s the provenance of this unexpected knowledge?”

“American exchange student I knew at university, he taught me how to cook a few things--and I just realized that he was definitely flirting with me the whole time. Wow, I feel kind of dumb for not catching that.”

“Slightly unobservant, perhaps. It did take you some time to notice when it was me.”

“It didn’t take me that long to--” Arata trails off at Souji’s raised eyebrow. “You...had to get more direct, didn’t you. You were flirting with me for way longer than I realized.”

“Bingo, as your American friend might say. It was very charming.” Abruptly Souji’s face is illuminated by one of his soft smiles, made all the more beautiful by the extravagant mess of his curls. “I would appreciate pancakes and an omelette, if you’re so inclined.”

Arata nods, as seriously as possible. “Your wish is my command.”

--

Souji has never been in the habit of uncertainty, but Kagami Arata has a particular talent for catching him off-guard. With his strength, with his patience, with his breathtaking fury at the unkind world. With the curve of his fingers around Zecter or briefcase handle or Souji’s wrist. With the shape of his mouth, at the moment reddened from kissing and redder from biting his own lip, because even more than Souji, he is dedicated to not making so much noise that they wake Juka up.

Not being in the habit of uncertainty, Souji had never previously realized how pleasurable it could be under the right circumstances. This was clearly a mistake, and one he is privately, deliriously glad to have rectified, because had that not happened he wouldn’t be here now, in his own bed with Arata’s fingers digging into his thighs and one of his own hands gripping the headboard as he moves.

Sex isn’t the only context in which he appreciates Arata’s company, of course, but he likes the way in which it’s his alone, something which he can be certain Arata won’t share with anyone else. And more than that, the breathless tranquility of after sex, in which he is now lying comfortably with his head on Arata’s shoulder and saying, “I think this is the moment I look forward to most when I’m with you.”

“So the thing you like best about having sex with me is when it’s over? That’s flattering.” Said entirely without ire, in fact with an undercurrent of laughter, and even then followed with, “No, I know what you mean. This is good.” A pause. “Not to get really serious about things all of a sudden, but I hope we’ve still got this in, like, thirty years.”

“Thirty years is insufficient,” Souji murmurs against the side of his neck. “I will accept nothing less than forever.”

He feels, rather than hears, the catch of breath, and what Arata says, as his arm pulls more tightly around Souji’s shoulders is, “Do you promise?”

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Five

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HI GUYS!! I’m SO sorry that this is late, but it was, honestly, giving me a little bit of trouble there at the beginning! I had to sit down and figure out the chapter, go over my outline, and it finally dawned on me what I wanted. So I hope that its okay! There’s a little more hints to some future chapters and reveals in this, too! I hope that you enjoy this chapter! :D As always, let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this series, and your thoughts on the chapter in general!

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix @i-am-fandoms-and-satan @scxrletwitches @yourwonderbelle @katelicon

You literally stared at the seconds tick up towards five o’clock. The music had already started to pulse through Lux, and you just wanted to go upstairs, and sleep. Was that actually going to happen? No, and you knew it, but what harm did a little wishful thinking do?

Ten seconds until five, and Lucifer threw open your door.

“Grab your things, the Detective has a case.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have jinxed yourself. You still found yourself standing and grabbing your coat. “I’m not a detective.”

“You can’t say you aren’t excited by a little mystery.” Lucifer shut your office door and trailed after you. He danced around your shoulder and led you expertly around a man in a tan trench coat, whose shoulder clipped yours. You glanced back. His eyes flicked between you, then Lucifer, before he continued towards the bar. “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s a regular,” Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, and absently said, “Or should I say constant.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. He took your arm and led you outside. “Do you want to hear what this case is about?” he asked, “Or.” He tapped the doors of the Corvette. “Do you want hear about your class situation?” You arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should tell you both, and see which one you like better.” He opened the door, and dramatically gestured to the seat.

You climbed in. “I really don’t want to be out long, Lucifer,” you mumbled.

“Nonsense!” The car roared to life before he touched the ignition. You squinted. You’d never noticed that he could do that before…maybe it was an AutoStart? “It’s a Friday, and the weather is lovely – perfect for staying out all hours.”

“N….no….”

“Anyway, let’s start with your professor.” He pulled out into the street. You opened the glove box. “After visiting his house—”

“You found his house?” You snapped it closed when you found nothing of interest.

“Maze is very good at finding humans, it’s thrilling,” he continued, “You should follow her on one of her hunts! I think you’d both learn a lot from each other.” You leveled him with a withering stare, and he smiled. “We got him to confess. Someone had been buying him off to fail you. Maze is looking into the others on your impressive transcript, but one would assume it’s the same for the rest.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Someone wanted me to fail?” you whispered.

“To be fair, you were very well liked amongst your professors,” Lucifer pointed out. He pulled up to a light, revving the engine as a car crept into the lane next to him. “Now, what is the next problem, hm?”

You stared at him beneath the L.A. street lights, watching the way his brown eyes caught the light. They looked red, like iron rich clay. “What, do you have a laundry list of things you wanna solve, and my problems are at the top?” you murmured.

“I told you I would figure out why you were failing your classes, and I did,” he replied. He shrugged as he pulled away from the light, and turned down another road. “Perhaps I just want to solve the rest of your problems!”

“You already have,” you pointed out.

“Why were they going to boot you from your apartment, hm? I have been curious, you don’t seem the type to shirk on your payments.” He turned down another street, and a third, until he was in a residential area of massive homes and manicured, green lawns. The street lamps were bright white, and the stop signs were pristine. You watched the lights of the neighboring houses flick on as you grew closer to the crime scene.

“I didn’t,” you answered. Lucifer opened your door for you. “I never once missed a rent payment.”

“Exactly!” He shut the door harder than necessary. “Is that not strange?”

“I live in a beautiful building with the most impressive apartment I have ever seen? I really don’t care anymore,” you said.

“Well I do!” Lucifer exclaimed. He straightened his coat. “So I’ll look into it!”

You started up the driveway, slowing as someone behind the crime scene tape met your gaze – a short girl, with large glasses, and a bowl cut. She smiled, lifted her hand in a small wave, and then Lucifer stepped between the two of you to gain your attention. “You don’t have to,” you finally commented.

He shrugged as he fell in step with you. “I want to. And I don’t believe you have the power to stop me.” He smiled as he spoke. You rolled your eyes.

An officer, one taller than you, with enough muscle to strain the sleeves of her uniform, stopped you both with a brilliant smile. “Sorry,” she chirped, “But this is a closed crime scene!”

Lucifer tilted his head. “I’m sorry, do I know you? You look awfully familiar…”

She tilted her head, and you watched her silky brunette ponytail swish behind her head. “I’m not sure? I mean, we might’ve spoken in passing—”

“No, it’s not here that we met, I’m sure of it…”

Chloe’s voice cut through his musings, “He brought you again?” She patted the woman’s arm and smiled, asking her to secure another part of the crime scene, before she took her place in front of you.

You shrugged. “I’ve stopped trying to tell him no, it doesn’t really work when he wants to drag me somewhere.” She glanced at her watch, looked at you, then turned her gaze to Lucifer. You nodded. “I’m well aware that I’m off the clock,” you commented.

“Not when the case came in!” Lucifer pointed out. He looped an arm over your shoulder. “Did you know that my lovely assistant has a transcript just riddled with criminal justice classes?” he asked. Your voice mixed with Chloe’s in a litany of confused questions and musings on how it was important. He waved his hand. “I could use another set of eyes, and this is just proof as to why—”

“I can be them?” you cut in. You shook your head. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Chloe sighed. “It can’t hurt,” she mumbled, “I mean, we already have Lucifer.” The Devil clapped, and slipped between the two of you to head into the house. “You’ll at least wear gloves, right?” she asked you.

You turned to her with wide eyes and a whispered question of, “He doesn’t wear gloves?” She shook her head. A wheeze pushed through your lips and you sighed. A box of purple latex gloves sat in plain view, right next to Lucifer. You made a point of yanking out one pair, and held out another.

“Oh, no thank you, they make my hands sweat,” he commented. You flapped the gloves at him. He turned to you with wide eyes, and mouthed ‘no���.

“Don’t be a prima donna,” you hissed.

He turned sharply, and smiled, sighing between his teeth. “Will you let me look into your land lord if I put the bloody gloves on?” he asked.

“Seriously?”

“I’m the Devil, I’m always serious.”

“Bullshit.”

“I also never lie,” he added. He held his hands out to you, wiggling his fingers as you tried to slip on the first glove. “I’m a little offended that you would think that of me.” You snapped the edge of the glove against his wrist. “Oh! That hurt!” He leaned in. “Do it again.”

“I will stomp on your Louboutin’s if you continue to be nasty,” you whispered.

He hummed. “I’m impressed! Not everyone can tell they’re Louboutin.” He grasped your shoulders and turned you towards the crime scene. “Precisely why you should be here. Use those sharp human eye balls of yours to find any clues.”

Chloe stared at the both of you. The woman kneeling next to the body looked up with a confused smile. “Uh…”

“Miss Lopez, this is my assistant,” Lucifer said, introducing you with a smile as he led you around the body. You nodded slowly, and sighed, and held out your hand. Lucifer repeated your name as he released you, “This is Ella Lopez, the forensics scientist behind the LAPD.”

Ella jumped up and threw her arms around you. “It’s so nice to meet you!” She released you with a grin. “Finally, I mean, you’ve been the talk of the precinct – Lucifer has an assistant? That’s so wild!” She leaned in to whisper, “Does he do the method acting thing all the time, or is it just around all of us?”

You smiled, slowly, and shrugged. “Hard to say. All the legal paperwork for Lux says Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Enough talking about me,” Lucifer scoffed. He waved to the body between you. “There’s a case to solve, isn’t there? Come now, I can’t be the only one focusing on it.” You rolled your eyes, stepped back, and waited. Maybe if you just didn’t touch anything, it would make you being there alright.

And at least Lucifer had gloves.

That was a plus.

[parvuls]

19/54 :)

19 - summer camp / 54 - secret relationship

now. the first thing that came to mind is camp sweetgum. so i’m gonna leave this here in case it strikes your fancy and also because it’s great.

but i’m a sucker for extensive worldbuilding, so let’s settle in for the long haul, kay? this is 1.7k of plot outlining. you can see why it takes me four months to write fics.

eric bittle. age 15. moved to madison for high school, quit figure skating, joined a no contact hockey team. coach is happier but not happy, so he suggests an idea: hockey summer camp. yes contact. it’s in minnesota (coach’s not thrilled about the yankees, but there are no hockey camps anywhere south; he checked), and it’ll give junior an opportunity to meet some kids with similar interests. athletic interests, that is. and there’s still a lake and extracurricular activities, “so it’s just like the camp up by lake oconee, y’know? where the kids braid friendship bracelets and whatnot. except with sports.”

eric is... less enthused. but it’s not actually a suggestion so much as a decision and coach just moved across the state for him because he managed to get himself stuck in a closet overnight (eric’s mindset, at this age, is perhaps not the most healthy), so he says yes.

jack zimmermann. age 20. assistant coached a peewee team for the year and is not ready to spend a third summer in his parents’ house in montréal when all his former teammates from the q are returning home during off-season. his boss tells him about this summer camp in minnesota that’s looking for experienced counselors -- “it’s not a prospect camp, mostly for fun, so the boys there aren’t headed for the league. you should go. talk to some kids above the age of ten.”

jack’s pretty okay with never talking to anyone over ten again, but he’s got no other options and bob starts mentioning going to bonding fishing trips just the two of them, so he send an application.

um. he’s jack zimmermann. he was supposed to go first in the draft. the guy in charge of hiring for the summer probably rubbed his eyes in shock when he saw the email and headed straight to bed because he thought he was delusional from lack of sleep. jack gets the job.

so, like. listen. samwell men’s hockey team? they’re not your usual hockey playing dude bros. eric gets to camp that july and he’s still all long dancer’s muscles from regionals and even lighter weight from usual because he was on a strict diet and he’s got a southern accent and narrow shoulders and he doesn’t like when you slap him on the back. he’s not a hit with the local boys. but you know who does like him immediately? adam birkholtz, who’s off the ushl for the summer and wanted to play some fun hockey and get paid doing it. is it legal? who fucking cares, man.

does eric like adam? uhh. adam is 6′4 and touchy feely and eric’s got undiagnosed ptsd, so. no. but it works out after a while, because adam is relentless and also cannot stand most of the other counselors, and this tiny kid is great.

you can see how it goes: jack does not. get. bittle. it should be mentioned that jack also does not get adam, and adam does not especially like jack, so they stay out of each other’s way, but bittle is in jack’s morning slot. he skates like he was born doing it but every time one of the other players so much as looks in his direction he freezes like a deer. now, this isn’t the ncaa, jack’s got nothing to lose if this kid sucks in hockey, but he also doesn’t make friends and he’s got nothing to do with his day except read (he reads. a lot). and he likes challenges. so he starts paying attention.

the first time he asks eric to stay after morning slot’s over, eric looks so terrified jack’s usual awkward conversation skills reduce him to single-word grunting. but he gets the point across: they’re gonna practice yes-contact. for reasons. eric’s all like, “oh -- oh, no, it’s okay! i’m in a no contact co-ed team, it’s fine, this is a summer thing, really, sir, no need --” and jack’s like, did this kid just call me sir, i am twenty, but is also too awkward to take it back. he’s invested now. they’re gonna practice.

and practice they do. it goes badly before it even remotely starts getting better. eric looks like he’s gonna start crying every time and jack does. not. get him (!!!) but eventually adam finds out and talks to eric about it and encourages him (very, very gently, god, this kid is the shit but he’s definitely got some issues 19-years-old-adam is not equipped to handle) to give it a shot.

and then it does get better. jack likes having a purpose, guiding someone through an improvement process (jack’s therapist, wisely, does not tell him that this is the best thing he could’ve done for himself, because jack is... not there yet). eric (very, very slowly, god, he also should start seeing a therapist) stops fearing every jock who gets near him with the combined effort of adam’s incessant friendly advances and jack’s daily practices, and can even take some checks. gentle ones. but it’s something.

and then summer’s over. eric and adam trade numbers. eric and jack… do not, but jack probably says something like, “eat more protein, bittle,” and eric’s not even that offended, so it’s fine.

guess what? he goes back the next summer. coach is over the moon (he expresses this in a twist of the mustache and a firm shoulder clap). adam is also back, talks a lot about quitting the ushl after his next season and maybe going to college somewhere. jack is back because… uh, well, no one’s really sure why jack is back. he’s going to samwell in early august, right after camp ends. jack tells himself he’s easing himself back into hockey in a low-pressure environment and totally isn’t looking forward to seeing what a year has done to eric bittle.

which is, physically speaking, not a lot, honestly. eric’s firmer now, a lot more thigh and bicep muscles, but still narrow. it’s not collegiate hockey, it’s a high school team, alright? gosh. but he’s less jumpy and smiles at jack when their eyes meet and he’s babbling with adam a lot more than he did last year (they texted all year long, and it was nice having a friend, even if it was long distance), so it’s cool. jack makes him do morning practices again and he flinches less and less. they’re like. friends. maybe. jack hasn’t had any friends in three years and the last one was parse, so he’s a little rusty. it’s not a very traditional friendship.

they part ways again in august, and eric wishes jack good luck in school. jack sticks his hands in his pockets to avoid fiddling with his hat and has no idea how one says goodbye, and like, he’s not gonna keep in touch with this sixteen year old kid in his freshman year of college, okay? so. so. but he’s gonna like -- uh -- miss him. maybe. sorta. don’t tell anyone.

eric hugs him goodbye. jack doesn’t even take both hands out of his pockets to hug back, he’s so shocked.

the year after that, none of them come back. jack’s in college, he just got the c. adam’s getting ready for his freshman year. eric’s over the age limit for camp. it just doesn’t happen.

but the year after that, he gets a hockey scholarship for samwell. and it’s yes contact. and he hasn’t been checked in two years, and last time it was in a controlled environment near a minnesota lake, and he’s scared. and the guy from camp (the one who woke up that morning two years before and realized jack zimmermann indeed wanted to work at their camp) offers him a summer job, counseling skating lessons. and he says yes. for money, and to be ready for a season of real hockey.

also that year, jack’s had a bad season. parse won the cup, and smh didn’t even make it to the frozen four, and he feels shitty about everything. and coaching always made him feel better. so he goes back to camp, for one summer.

let’s set the scene: eric. age 18. taller, stronger, determined. in need of a haircut, but in possession of very short shorts. is headed to a liberal school and finally knows he’s gay and refuses to care about what the other boys think (camp has done wonders for his early mindset development; canon bitty, probably, was not as confident at this point). he’s a counselor now, fellas!

jack. age 23. not taller, yes stronger, has been friends with shitty knight for a year and knows a little more about human interaction (truly a little, but still). is looking to relax for the summer before kicking ass next season (and attracting scouts and joining the nhl and winning three cups before 30 and proving everyone wrong, but. first, relaxing and playing some hockey. jack zimmermann’s version of relaxing is different than other people’s).

they’re sharing a cabin in the counselors area. there are two beds, obviously, this is not that trope, and it’s not even bunk beds, but: they were cabinmates. oh my god, they were cabinmates.

the plot, obviously, follows as one would expect. eric is definitely not a kid anymore, is all tanned skin and strong calves and short shorts, and jack is only human. jack is all firm chest and pale eyes and hideous yellow shoes, and eric is disgusted, but is also only human. and jack is on summer break, and eric is not out yet, and so when they drink some beers one night and make bad attempts at actually braiding some friendship bracelets and jack’s tongue pokes out in concentration and eric bursts out laughing, jack has to kiss him. right? right. It’s not like eric would tell anyone. see closeted reasoning above.

what’s the catch? oh, no, they don’t get caught. they share a cabin! everything’s going swell. it’s just -- jack came there to avoid thinking about his bad season. eric came there to avoid thinking about his upcoming year of collegiate hockey. so… neither of them mentions… captaining the samwell hockey team. or. heading for the samwell hockey team. they talk about literally everything else (country music; undeveloped political opinions; daddy issues; the tv show arthur; american vs. canadian thanksgiving; one very late night conversation about homophobia in pro sports), but not about college. so neither of them knows.

oops?

[victimofthemusic]

Oh, TGTattoo (Tattoo Artist Ice), please!

Okay, so, this was actually one of the first of many story ideas I had and never finished when I started in the TG fandom. The idea came to me after I binge watched Ink Master for like, a week straight and the image of a tattoo artist Iceman Kazansky and Maverick going to get his first tattoo. 

I honestly forgot this even existed until I did my little WIP challenge and I’m unsure if I’ll ever finish it. So, a very rough snippet of an unedited draft:

The working title I had for this was: i want to be the tattoo ink (that swims down through the needle in your skin). It’s a lyric from Dive In by Pierce the Veil :)

~

“Mav, this is Tom Kazansky, Tom, this is Maverick Mitchell,” Goose introduces, gesturing to Maverick behind him. 

Maverick steps out from behind Goose and the first thought that enters his brain when he lays his eyes on the male before him, is that the beauty of the painting had nothing on the beauty of Tom Kazansky. 

He’s tall and broad shouldered and Maverick swears he can see the outline of his abs through his tight white t-shirt. His blonde hair is bleached from the sun and his face looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself and his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. His blue eyes are so pale they’re almost silver and the only thing that draws Maverick away from getting lost in those depths, is the intricate art work covering both of his arms; his very toned, muscled and tanned arms. 

Before Maverick can really look more into exactly what was covering those delicious arms, Goose nudges him and Maverick blinks, darting his eyes back up to amused silver ones. 

Maverick clears his throat, feeling his face flush, and he holds his hand out. “Uh, sorry, it’s um, nice to meet you, I’m Maverick.” 

Tom raises a pierced eyebrow, his lips twitching, taking Maverick’s offered hand. “So I’ve been told.”

Maverick chuckles nervously. “Right, sorry.”

He takes his hand out of Tom’s warm and firm grip and brushes his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Sorry Tom, Mav here is just a little nervous,” Goose says, giving Maverick’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

Tom raises an interested eyebrow, his sharp eyes on Maverick. “Is this your first time?”

Maverick’s face is positively in flames at the double meaning behind his words, but he finds himself nodding. “Uh, yeah, this will be my first. Tattoo. My first tattoo. Yeah.”

He cringes and barely refrains from smacking himself on the forehead at how stupid he sounds. 

Tom’s face remains impassive but Maverick can see the way his eyes dance with amusement. “Right. Of course, what else would we be talking about?”

Maverick swallows and is thankfully saved from further embarrassment by Tom flicking his gaze back over to Goose. “Make yourself at home, Mother Goose, I’ll take care of your friend here.”

Goose squeezed Maverick’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

He shoves Maverick in Tom’s direction and Maverick, unprepared for the blow, stumbles and only rights himself when strong hands grip his forearms, steadying him and saving his face from hitting the white tile floors. 

“Easy,” Tom murmurs and Maverick shivers, pulling his arms free, shooting Goose a glare over his shoulder as Tom leads him behind a black curtain. 

~

“Where do you want it?” Tom asks, pulling black gloves out of a box resting on the counter and snapping them over his hands. The movement only draws Maverick attention to the length of those fingers, the largeness of his hands and he swallows heavily, wondering what they would feel like on him, in him.

Shaking his head and trying not to flush, he points to his right pec through the material of his white t-shirt. “Right here.”

Tom gestures for him to stand up and Maverick complies easily, standing to attention at the foot of the chair, hands behind his back and waits for further instruction.

Tom’s lips twitch in amusement. “If you want this stencil to go on you, I’m going to need you take your shirt off.”

Maverick gives an embarrassed laugh. “Right, sorry.”

He feels a sudden shyness creep over him as he grips the hem of his t-shirt, Tom watching him, pulling it over his head and leaving him exposed from the waist up. His dog tags clink against his chest when they finally release from the confines of his shirt and the coolness of them is startling. He can feel Tom’s gaze on him as he folds his shirt and places it on the counter, off to the side to make sure it’s not in the way.

Maverick feels oddly vulnerable, something he’s not accustomed to when it comes to exposing his body to other peoples eyes. He’s paler than usual from being on deployment and not having time to be out on the beach, but he knows his body is fit and muscled from hours of drills and time in the gym in order to stay in Navy standards and Tom, it seems, to appreciate this if the sweeping gaze he gives Maverick’s body is anything to go by. Maverick can feel the warmth pool low in his gut when those ice blue eyes meet his and there’s no mistaking the heat and interest, but it’s gone the next time Maverick blinks, replaced by a cool professionalism that makes Maverick feel chastised.

Tom stands, grabbing the stencil and a disposable razor from his tray, eyeing the area Maverick had specified. He runs a gloved finger over Maverick’s skin, gaze considering as he traces his finger over the area and Maverick has to suppress a shiver, both at the touch and their proximity. Tom is a good three or four inches taller than Maverick and while it should be intimidating, Maverick only feels safety and heat. Tom’s body is warm and he can feel it radiate from him when he presses closer, stroking the razor over his skin. The contrast of warmth of his body and the coolness of the room make Maverick’s nipples harden and he flushes.

Tom’s gaze, however, remains impassive, as he tosses the razor into the trash and wipes an antiseptic wipe over the freshly shaved skin. It’s cold and it makes Maverick flinch.

“Sorry,” Tom says, flicking his gaze up to Maverick’s before they flit down to his work. The wipe follows the razor into the trash and Tom grabs the stencil, peeling back a thin film before he carefully places it over Maverick’s pec, smoothing edges and gently, he peels the paper away, eyeing the placement.

Tom nods, looking pleased, but he gestures for Maverick to turn and face the floor length mirror he just now noticed in the corner of the space.

“What do you think?” He asks Maverick, eyeing the purple letters in the mirror over Maverick’s shoulder.

Maverick cocks his head, considering, even though he really feels like he has no real opinion on it. It looks good to him—even across his pec, dead center, not too far up, not too far down and everything is spelled correctly. And Tom said it looked good and considering he’s the expert on this subject, Maverick takes his word for it and nods his approval.

“Looks good to me,” Maverick says with a shrug and Tom snorts behind him, making Maverick meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t be so blasé about this,” Tom says and his tone sounds scolding, “this is going to be on your body forever and you need to make sure before I start that this is where you want it. I can re-print another stencil if you don’t like this one.”

Maverick eyes the stencil again, shifting this way and that in the mirror and something like rightness settles into his chest at seeing the words he heard so often as child scrawled neatly across his skin. Like they were always meant to be there, etched into his skin like a birth mark.

~

So yeah, not sure if this will ever get finished, but who knows with me, honestly. Thoughts?

[breaniebree]

Chapter 229 Sneak Peek

This is for all of those who are gave me much needed love today to soothe my poor writer’s ego.  You’re the best and the reason I share what I write with the world and not just keep it for myself.  

Specifically, this one is for: @weasleycousin @liesadventure @casually-ananarchist-tomato @notthatchhavi @pommewom @imwhite1086-blog @emergencybitch @queen-owlhead @lasagnelady @carpenl @james7594 @dreaming-thoughtless @mennataha02 @rainycollectorlight-universe @runningtwiceasfast @thisismegz @bluestwitch @siriusblack15 and many, many, many more.

I love you! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You are amazing!

Thank you for taking the time out of your days to read my little story!

And remember, reviews are what us fanfiction authors are paid in :D

Chapter 229 Hinny Excerpt...

The afternoon sun had come in while she was daydreaming as she and Harry were adding more hay into the stalls.  It was hot and humid and her shorts and vest were sticking to her.  Colt had said it was close to ninety degrees and she could feel the heat of the sun, so thankful for the sun protection charm that she’d used on herself.  Ginny snuck a look over at Harry.  They were behind the stables, working with the hay bales, the forest at their back and for the first time in what seemed like all summer — she was completely alone with him.  It was rare for them to find a moment alone.  Someone was always around between Colt, the ranch hands Calvin and Tucker, Flo, Sorcha, Misha, Zee… it was nice and confining at the same time.  She and Harry were never alone enough and she missed him, missed touching him.  Merlin, she wanted her hands on him, she thought.

He had pulled his shirt off in the heat of the afternoon sun and she couldn’t help but take a moment to just look at him.  His broad shoulders and lean muscles made him look more man than boy.  The glimmer of sweat on his skin looked oddly appealing and she had a sudden desire to run her hands over him, to taste the salt of his skin.  The small white scars on his back from the horntail glimmered in the sunlight.  His black hair, as messy as ever, stood on end in a careless fashion that suited him so well that one would think he’d styled it that way.  He wasn’t traditionally handsome, she supposed, but there was something distinctive about him.  

The sharp jawline, the black stubble that peppered his chin and neck showed that he hadn’t shaved in probably about a week; his adorable ears (and who knew ears were adorable, but his were)…  His skin tanned a lovely gold from the summer sun (he didn’t need to worry about a sun protection charm), the pale white lines of skin where his jeans dipped low, made her lick her lips, eager to look and see just how pale he was beneath the denim.  As he turned, she let her eyes wander down to the dark happy trail that disappeared beneath the waistline of his jeans.  Her brown eyes hungrily eyed the soft v-lines on either side of him.  When he stretched those arms out, bending to pick up the fresh bale of hay and she tilted her head to look at his arse.  He definitely had a bum made for those jeans, she thought with a smile.  Then those green eyes met hers and just like always, they punched through her like a bolt of lightning.  They were impossibly green, like almond-shaped emeralds, and so incredibly beautiful behind his round glasses.

It had always been his eyes that drew her in first.  The long, gorgeous lashes that any woman would kill for, outlining those perfect almond-shaped orbs.  The bright vivid green that changed from dark to almost hazel-green, depending on his mood.  And when those lips curved into a knowing smile, she only grinned back at him.

“See something you like, Ginny?”

Ginny, knowing that she had been caught, only shrugged.  “I was just thinking that we should get more apples for the horses.”

Harry dropped the bale of hay to the ground and took a step towards her so quickly that she took an automatic step back.  “Oh, really?  That’s what you were thinking about?”  She swallowed when he stood in front of her, his hands resting on her waist.  “Apples?”

Ginny’s breath hitched when his head bent to kiss her and she let out a whimper when he stopped a breath away from her lips.  “Apples, yes.”

His grin was quick, those emeralds twinkling in amusement, and he pulled away.  “Sure, let’s go get some apples.”

He made to go; Ginny linked two fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and tugged him back towards her.  “Get back here and snog me, Harry Potter!”

Harry chuckled.  “Why? I thought that you weren’t checking me out?”

Ginny only stood on her toes and tugged his face to hers for a long deep kiss that made her moan against him.  “Prat.  You bloody well know I was checking you out.”

“I know no such thing,” he teased, kissing the tip of her nose.  “I’m a bit of a mess really, can’t imagine why you would be.”

Ginny ran her hands up his sweaty torso.  “A sexy mess.”

He chuckled and kissed her again.  Ginny melted into him, basking in the feel of his warm body pressed against hers.  Her fingers looped through his belt loops tighter, pulling him closer and his hands slid around her waist to grip her bum.  She stood on her toes and he lifted her, grinning against her mouth when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“How is it that I have you all to myself this summer yet I can barely find a moment alone with you?”  he murmured, trailing his mouth over her jaw.

Ginny made an mmm sound as she pulled his lips back to hers.  She kissed him deeply before she kissed his cheeks, his nose, his chin.  “I love your grandparents.  They’re so much fun and so interesting and I love spending time with them — but — the lack of privacy around her is starting to feel the Burrow.”

Harry chuckled and kissed her again.  “You can say that again.  I want some time alone with you.  I miss our tower room.”

Ginny’s fingers let go of his belt loops as she slid down his body, back to her feet.  She trailed her fingers up his chest and then back down through his happy trail, across the brass button on his jeans, and then danced them down the zipper.  “Me too.”

[...]

“We should get some more apples for the horses though.  They like them,” Harry said.

He moved back to the door, bending to reach for his discarded tee shirt on the ground inside as a beautiful blonde stepped into the stables.  She had legs up to her ears and her blonde hair was shoulder length and framed her face in careless layers.  Ginny watched her eyes land on Harry’s arse, slowing moving up the length of his body, and all she could think was: Mine.  She made to step closer just as the blonde spoke.

“Should have known you’d get hotter.”

Harry grinned in surprise.  “Harley!”

The blonde laughed and launched herself into his arms, and the little squirm of jealousy in Ginny's gut surprised her.  She took another step closer again, eyes on how the blonde had plastered herself against Harry’s naked chest, and wondered if it would be going too far for her to grab her by the hair and pull her away from him.  

“God, you got tall too!  Cal and Tuck told me that you were back here and I just had to say hi!”

Harry grinned, his hands on her arms.  “You racing yet?”

“Next year,” she said with a grin.  “I have my own horse now.  His name is Davidson.  Get it?  Harley riding Davidson?”

Harry chuckled.  “That’s great!”  His eyes sought Ginny’s and he smiled at her.  “Harley, this is my girlfriend, Ginny.  Ginny, this is Harley Mills.”

Ginny stepped over to them, trying not to show that she was jealous.  The young woman before her was gorgeous: Long legs made for the denim she was in, slim build.  She could be a model.

“Hi,” she said, hoping her smile looked friendly.  She had a sudden desire to claim Harry as hers.

His arm came around her shoulders and she immediately put her hand on his flat stomach, her brown eyes on the blonde.

“Hi,” Harley said.  “It’s lovely to meet you.  Harry’s a great guy.  You’re lucky.”

“I know,” Ginny told her.

Harry linked his fingers with hers and warmth spread through her.  “It’s me that’s lucky.”

Harley smiled.  “Well, Tuck and I are actually dating now.  Been almost two months.  He’s a sweetie.  Maybe we can all go to Flo’s for a milkshake, catch up.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Harley nodded, smiling at Harry again.  “Awesome.  Tomorrow at four?”

“Uh, sure,” Harry told her.

She grinned widely and then kissed Harry’s cheek before she waved goodbye, heading out of the stables.

Ginny looked up at Harry to try to see the expression on his face, but his lips dipped to hers, softly and tenderly, and she melted into him.  Her lashes fluttered open as she looked up at him.  “What was that for?”

“Just being here.  Do you mind grabbing a milkshake with Harley and Tucker tomorrow?  We can always cancel.”

“Do you want to go?”  Ginny asked, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer.

He shrugged.  “It would be nice to see her again and I think that I’d like to know more about what she’s been up to.”

Ginny stared at him a moment, unsure how she felt about his words.  “Well, a Weasley never turns down food.  Even if it involves eating with her boyfriend’s ex.”

Harry bent his head and kissed her softly.  “Are you jealous?”

“Of that model gorgeous woman out there?”  Ginny asked, lips twitching.  “No, never!”

[kbstories]

Contingent

con·tin·gent (adj.) Dependent on; conditional.

There's only one thing Trafalgar Law is truly afraid of.

(Or: Bepo will be damned if he loses Law just when he got him back.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Nakamaship, Amber Lead Syndrome, Medical Inaccuracies, Childhood Trauma, Law whumps well and I have no excuse

Set between Zou and Wano. Read Chapter 2 here.

***

To say the Polar Tang is a tight fit is an accurate, if unfortunate, assessment.

Years ago, the shipwright they commissioned to make their submarine-turned-ship a reality had cautioned them about the limited capacity. Back in the North Blue, the logistics of cramming more than two dozen people into close quarters with high-pressure machinery seemed a far-away problem at best.

That was long before Jean Bart entered the picture, patient as their helmsman had been to accommodate the narrow spaces of his new home. The nightshift Uni and Clione had pulled to present him with a set of his very own Heart Pirates-branded overalls the next day probably had something to do with it, too.

And maybe it’s because they haven’t had guests in a while (or at least, none that were conscious enough to count), or that Law’s paranoia has rubbed off on Bepo more than he likes to admit… When their mismatched group of allies take the first step on deck, Bepo is watching them like a hawk.

The fact of the matter is: Bepo loves the Tang. They all do. She’s the one that carried them from the North’s frigid waters all the way into the New World. She’s the best. All they – pirates and samurai alike – give her are curious glances, though, neither overly positive nor notably negative as they follow Trafalgar Law into the bowels of his submarine.

Well, with exception of that Strawhat cyborg, Franky. The moment they’re inside he’s gone, fawning over metal walls and neatly-welded seams like they’re the delicate linework of an artist; all Ikkaku can do to prevent any damage to her baby is to run after him. Her harsh reminders to be careful grow fainter and fainter as the rest moves on.

Ikkaku was against this whole alliance thing and yet, Bepo assumes it’s only a matter of time until their chief engineer is charmed, too. It’s one of those inevitable things that tend to happen around the Strawhats.

In any case, Law doesn’t seem bothered and so Bepo isn’t, either. It’s not like the captain lets them dwell on it for long, anyways – he shuffles their guests into the galley like a goose herds its chicks and gives Penguin a handful of minutes to organize some snacks for everyone before the crew is called to the control room. In one big gulp, Bepo swallows the rest of his sandwich and off he goes.

He gets there just as Law emerges from the captain’s cabin in a fresh change of clothes and still-moist hair. “Ready?”, Law asks him, looking worn out still but sounding excited by his own standards, and Bepo nods with a fanged grin.

“Ready, Captain.”

The tanks are flooded and the engine purrs below their feet. From there, the Heart Pirates flit in and out and around Trafalgar Law like blood cells under a microscope and Bepo?

Bepo stands by Law’s side, one eye on the Log Pose and the other on the currents, and feels his pulse even out. There’s nothing like home.

The Tang quiets to a comforting hum once the course is set and optimal velocity is achieved, a background noise as familiar to Bepo as the cadence of Law’s voice. The residual heat from the engine room is making everyone but Bepo sweat in their suits, and he’d feel smug about it if his paws and nose weren’t wet with perspiration too–

It’s then that he remembers their allies, more specifically the only people without proper gear to be in a submerged submarine, and Bepo curses his own neglect under his breath for all of a second. By that point Bart is already letting go of the helm to pat Bepo's head, an automatic gesture of comfort.

“I told them to wait”, he says and shrugs a bit sheepishly because, as it turns out, the Strawhats actually listened. Bepo finds them lounging around one of the tables, just where they left them; the three from Wano Country are huddled in the corner a bit further away, heads stuck together to catch up. The Strawhats are in the middle of a round of some card game, it seems, even if their expressions are serious enough to make Bepo wonder if there’s more to it. He hovers in their periphery, hesitant to interrupt.

Suddenly, Nico Robin looks up and smiles. Usopp groans, throwing his hand away.

“I give up! You’re impossible, Robin. Impossible.”

“Bear”, Zoro greets him, gaze sliding lazily from his cards to Bepo. “You any good at Continental?”

“Uh”, Bepo replies intelligently. Conti-what? A glimpse at the cards Robin plays doesn’t reveal any epiphanies to him, either. “Sorry. I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a card game from the East Blue”, Robin explains while she holds out a patient hand for Zoro’s cards as well. It’s one summoned by her powers, not that Zoro seems to mind as he rolls his eye and relinquishes the (presumably bad) hand he had. “Nami is a real devil at it.”

Usopp leans far back in his chair. “Playing this without her to knock out Robin early on is hopeless”, he adds with a dramatic sigh.

Bepo’s ears twitch in interest. Nami, their navigator? “Ah. Perhaps you can show me–” The sentence crashes into the realization that he's letting himself be distracted, again. “Later! Show me later. You guys need suits, and a tour around the– Wait, where’s Franky?”

Robin chuckles rather fondly. “Don’t mind him”, she tells Bepo, “Franky is easily excitable by the prospect of a new ship to tinker with”, and before Bepo can feel put out by her just deciding that, she glances over Bepo’s shoulder. A pause, pensive.

“I can reel him in, though. Your ship, your rules, Mr. Traffy.”

A huff confirms Law’s presence behind him a moment before he puts a hand on Bepo’s elbow, undemanding. Out of habit, Bepo nudges their shoulders together to acknowledge his captain properly and Law’s fingers tighten, once.

“Better get it out of Franky's system now, I suppose. We’re still close enough to the surface that an explosion or two won’t kill us all.”

Law’s voice is utterly deadpan and it’s most certainly a joke – Robin is snickering good-naturedly, too – but Bepo still gives his captain a look. These are the Strawhats they’re talking about.

Law just shakes his head, a movement so subtle it might as well not exist at all. Bepo lets out a breath. No sudden deaths by drowning today, how nice.

“As Bepo said: You need suits and a tour. Wano people, you too. Zoro, you need a guide.”

“Oi.”

“Hey, why the suits?”

That last one comes from Usopp, and Bepo opens his mouth to offer a perfectly rational answer–

“So the Tang doesn’t boil you alive”, Law says and gives them a sweet smile. It drops off his lips immediately. “Any other questions? I’ll send Uni over for your measurements. He’s the guy with the bandana. Shachi will show you around. Bepo, a word?”

Bepo nods along and… Huh?

As first mate, tour duty should fall onto him – after all, it’s a good way for him to gauge who exactly they invited into their home – but something in Law’s tone makes Bepo’s instincts perk up and pay attention and oh, Law hasn’t let go of his elbow yet.

Bepo doesn’t have time to ask his captain what’s wrong before blue engulfs them both and the world shifts around them.

*

Shambles is a mixture of falling and being held; for Bepo, the unique feeling of Law’s powers is a long-kept comfort, simultaneously a vanguard and the last line of defense in every battle they have fought together.

When it fades, Bepo finds himself in the captain’s cabin – the sight of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls is a familiar one, the whirlwind of documents all across the desk not so much – and there’s no time to ponder on that before Law holds his hands inches from Bepo’s nose and tells him to look.

“Wha–?”

“Just– Humor me. What do you see?”

Bepo snaps his jaws shut because Law is serious, the air of snarky rudeness gone without a trace, and Bepo looks and sees... Well, nothing. There’s tan skin and fingernails kept obsessively neat; there are the precise lines of the tattoos that have been there for years.

Law’s hands are trembling.

“I don’t see anything, Captain”, Bepo says honestly. Gently, too, because anything that involves Law insisting like that is wrapped in caution tape and staked with warning signs, do not enter, all the way up to the ocean’s surface.

Law curses, then, shaking out his arms in an effort to stop the tremors and it’s wrong, for a surgeon’s hands to be that unsteady. He starts tugging at his clothes and Bepo watches, concern swelling bigger and bigger in his chest – Law’s hat falls to the ground unnoticed when he pulls his shirt over his head in one rough motion.

“Look”, he repeats, golden eyes gone cold and hard. His chest heaves with how heavy he’s panting, muscles taught under the strain; Law’s arm is the only thing left covered, bandaged all the way to his shoulder.

“Anything?”

Bepo does, expression carefully blank as he forces himself to look past the ink and all the things that make Law Law and directly at what’s hidden in plain sight: faded by time, he spots the outline of pale-white scars that have always been there, pre-dating even the fateful day they met.

Then, Bepo shakes his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing, Captain. It’s the same as always.”

“Honest?”

It’s a rushed breath, barely a question at all. It takes Bepo back a decade, the raw fear in it unchanged and belonging to a boy just scratching manhood, struggling to trust the one friend he has in the world. “Honest”, Bepo promises like he always has, and for all of his twenty-two years the ache in his heart feels ancient.

“Talk to me, Law. Please. You’re scaring me.”

Finally, Law inhales sharply and nods, fingers dragging through his hair the way he does after a close call, another life barely saved.

“Something’s not right. I didn’t notice with everything else going on but I’m tired and everything hurts? It’s like I’m about to pass out, fucking… faint like I used Room too much and things get fuzzy around the edges but I haven’t. All I’ve been doing is sleep and eat, I don’t– It makes no sense. And it’s not going away, Bepo.”

Bepo wants to hug him, the need to hold him close and tell him to breathe writhing inside him like a separate being. Law isn’t done yet and somehow it’s even worse to witness him trying to wrest himself into a semblance of control, to drag himself away from all-too-familiar devastation.

“Fatigue. That’s how it starts”, Law tells him, like he’s talking about a patient wholly unrelated to himself. He holds up his hand and counts down with his fingers, one at a time, utterly methodical. “Then pain in the limbs, difficulties concentrating for longer periods of time, discoloration of the skin and hair, high fever and–”

There are no more fingers left, all of them tucked against Law’s palm and exposing all five letters.

“–ultimately: death.”

Bepo can’t take it anymore. “Captain–”, he starts and again he’s interrupted.

“I must’ve missed something.”

Something flashes in Law’s eyes, something unstable and mad-looking and this is bad, Bepo thinks numbly. Very, very bad.

“I thought I cured it but I was a kid, Bepo. Nobody knows the long-term effects of surviving Amber Lead Syndrome, nobody lived long enough to tell. Just because there're no new spots doesn’t mean it’s gone. And what if there’s deposits on a molecular level? I couldn’t cut cells back then without Kikoku but I can now–”

“Law, stop! Shut up!”

Bepo hasn't shouted at Law and truly meant it in a long, long time. Law’s eyes go wide and the frantic rambling stops, and Bepo is done hesitating: He reaches through that gap and touches Law’s forehead, heat searing into the sensitive skin of his paw pads immediately. Shit.

“You’re burning up”, Bepo tells him and shakes his head, barrels through the acute panic in Law’s gaze before it can take proper hold. “Stop, okay? Listen to me.” His paws drop to Law’s shoulders, firm, careful where his fingers touch gauze. “Remember our promise on Swallow? You were delirious with pain and bleeding all over the place and you told me–”

Law whispers, “Promise to stop me”, almost as pale as he was when he said it the first time.

“Exactly. I promised to never let you operate without a clear head ever again ‘cause you’re only human, Captain, and you make mistakes like this. So this is me, stopping you. You’re unwell and you’re scared and you’re not gonna cut into your own cells looking for Amber Lead like this. Okay?”

“Okay”, Law says, the low rasp of his voice growing more solid, close to trusting. Bepo lets himself feel the rapid beat of his own heart for a moment and that, too, is calmer now if only marginally so.

“Okay. So: You’re tired, your body aches, you can’t focus. You have a fever and there’s like, a thousand reasons why that could be aside from– That. And there’s no new spots. What else causes those symptoms? Walk me through it.”

“The flu? Other viruses. Anemia. Iron deficiency in general. Uh–”

A few seconds pass where Law just thinks, brow furrowed and shining with sweat, and Bepo reaches blindly for the hoodie he knows he will find crumpled on Law’s desk chair. “Put this on”, he mutters and presses it against Law’s naked chest. Law does, even lets Bepo help when his injured arm catches on fabric and a pained hiss escapes his lips.

Then the scars are covered again, out of Bepo’s and – more importantly – Law’s sight for the most part. Law stops shivering as much and it's not much but it's still good, still progress. Bepo steers Law to the bed and makes him sit down; arms crossed on the back of the chair, Bepo sits directly across from him. Eyes soft, he nudges Law’s boot with his own.

“Captain. What else?”

“Bacterial infections, severe ones. Miningitis? Hmm... Lymphoma. Technically, most types of canc–”

“Whoa, that’s– Let’s stop there. See? Plenty of options. All of them suck, especially that… that last one.” Bepo pauses, can’t help but to ask: “It’s not that, right? You don’t have cancer.”

Law’s expression softens, the overall misery pushed aside for a moment as his lips twitch tiredly and he shakes his head. “No cancer.”

Bepo nods in relief, and his mind is already three steps ahead because they need a plan and Law is not the only Heart Pirate that has a knack for those. “What’s the prescription against fever? Painkillers and…?”

“Antipyretics.”

There’s not much finesse to Bepo searching the cabinet where Law keeps his private stash of medicine. The weight of Law’s eyes on him registers yet his captain says nothing, wordlessly watching Bepo as he reads labels and tries to place everything back where he finds it until– There!

“Got it. Take… uh, how many?”

“Two. And one from the red box. That one, yeah.”

Bepo gives him the pills and waits with crossed arms until Law obediently swallows all of them at once, wincing at– Wait. Water.

Scrambling to the adjacent bathroom, Bepo fills a glass and refills it right after his captain finishes the first, placing it on his nightstand. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine. You’re fussing.”

“You bet I am”, Bepo huffs, uncaring how petulant it makes him sound. “And I’m not done. Now, rest – and I mean rest, Captain, as in not moving from that bed or so help me – and I’ll get Shachi and Penguin to keep you company. You’ll be fine in no time.”

Pointedly, Law folds the covers over his legs, a wordless there, I’m in bed. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

Blinking, Bepo tilts his head at Law. Law just raises an eyebrow and waits, looking vaguely worried and–

Bepo reminds himself that for all he’s a genius his captain is also an idiot.

“You just came back and you’re sick, what do you think I’m gonna do? Figure this out, of course! There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near one of the Emperors like this, much less freaking Kaido. Also”, he takes a long breath, “I’m taking Kikoku with me and there’s nothing you can do–”

“Fine.”

“–to stop me! …Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, take it. You’re worried enough as is.” Law shrugs a little, like it’s no big deal he’s allowing Bepo to handle the sword he keeps close even in his sleep. “It’s cursed, though. Be careful.”

Bepo swallows, a little nervous despite himself. “I know. I will. And… we’ll get through this, okay? Just stay put. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Law leans back against the headrest and sighs, “Can't. The meds’ll knock me out in a few.” And perhaps he doesn’t look particularly happy about any of it but he still took the pills Bepo handed him, still decided in that moment to trust Bepo to come up with a solution while he’s down and out.

Determination sets into a tight-lipped smile on Bepo’s face. Law’s trust is all Bepo has ever needed, be it to wrestle ocean currents into submission or to help his best friend find the freedom he’s looking for, one cut string at a time.

“I'll tell 'em to hurry, then. Leave the rest to me, Captain.”

>>Chapter 2.

[goodnightallwhites]

Dark Times: Cuz Sonia by Zenalite

Chapter 1 - Sonia Life could be strange. Growing up, people taught me that it was better to appear strong than weak, and that strength was the only way to get what you wanted. There were so many cringy scenes in middle-school where this failed to bring results. One time a classmate had asked me if she could copy the answers from my homework; I told her sure, so long as she let me kiss her. She rolled her eyes and walked her sweet young ass away while my male buddies laughed and congratulated me. When the weakest guy in our class gave her his homework, we called him out and mocked him, but our cutie responded by giving him a quick peck on the cheek when it was over. I remember burning with rage at the thought that some spineless little shit felt her lips while I, who was daring as I was told I should be, was left a kissless virgin. It never occurred to me to use the same strategy. That I later met Lara in high school and watched her slowly succumb to wanting to black cock addiction to the point that I held her as a party as they stole her virginity before my eyes was pure chance. These things were accepted because I loved Laura and was afraid to lose her, not because of some grand plan. When Yennefer approached me and told me she wanted Lara to share me so I could be her boyfriend too, the entire thing blew my mind. Somehow, I, the loyal cuck that put up with everything, was the last boyfriend standing while the others got kicked to the curb. Through my selfless devotion to Lara, I not only solidified her love for me, but won the affection of the most popular ice queen in school. Even though none of them fucked me or would fuck me, there were butterflies of good feeling flying all around me. Scratch that, it felt amazing. Any fucking loser could go out and buy pussy with a few bucks, and there were plenty of dumb guys born with big cocks that could get a girl wet and willing for half an hour while they fucked only to face her cool disdain afterwards. I was loved. I was wanted. Of course, it did feel bad to think that I might not fuck any of them, but it was an okay sacrifice. It certainly helped that they wanted to fuck black guys and only black guys. On one hand, I wasn’t and could never be black, so there was no need to feel like I failed in any way. On the other hand, these girls were objectifying these poor black studs to such an extent that they spoke of them more like toys than people. It was all a little racist, but… There’s no way I’m going to call Lara or Yenn racists to their face. As I said before, Yennefer told me that she wanted me, and that Lara needed to accept that a great cuck like me needed to be shared, at least with the top bitch if not the entire school. It would’ve been nice if Yenn went and delivered this message herself; instead, she was sending me out there to get devoured if things went wrong. Lara opened the door for me dressed only in a pair of ripped denim shorts and a crop top. The frayed bits from the jeans brushed tantalizingly against her smooth and tan legs as she moved idly and the perfect outline of her breasts showing through the thin fabric of the top. A sexy smile played over her lips as the brown eyes settled on me. “Mr. Boyfriend, I presume? Where are my flowers?” “In my pants.” Lara burst with laughter, not expecting the wild card response. “That’s rich.” Then, her features softened and lost all tension. With a low whisper, she grabbed my hand with welcome gentleness and said, “Come inside, baby, I missed you.” She went barefoot over the polished floor of her living room, the muscles working along her long and tone legs as she dragged me along, those perky and soft breasts swaying enticingly under the crop top. Unlike Yennefer’s strong scent of lilac and gooseberries, Lara’s was understated, fresh and a little metallic. We headed into her room and she locked the door. “My parents might be home soon.” Some soft rap music played from her laptop resting in bed. I took note of the printer at the lying in the middle of the floor and the new images that were going up on her wall. All of them were pics of black guys or white girls, at times together, most of them captioned in the most overt way possible. One showed a blonde girl wearing a Swedish flag tee and surrounded by bare-chested dark-skinned guys: EUROPE IS IS GETTING BLACKED. Another was just a close-up of a girl’s sweaty abs: WORK HARD FOR BBC. Lara drank in my reaction. Her blood rushed just from looking at them, and her hands went absentmindedly over her nipples as they started nudging through. “Well? Do you like them?” “I do…” I made myself say, though it was strange. The political ones were especially strong. “Though maybe they’re a little” - her eyebrows began to rise suspiciously as the words left my mouth - “direct?” Lara watched me closely, then leaned in and let her hot breath fill my ear. “I am very direct. Mostly.” A giggle came out of her, then she grabbed the laptop and flashed a picture on screen, showing a white girl holding hands with a skinny white guy as she kissed a really buff black bull that must have been in his forties. Under it, Lara had written: BREEDING READY. “How about this one? Good enough?” She found it hard to take her eyes off of the image. “Uh. It’s nice.” “Oh, fuck off! Be honest with me! I’ll tell you what…” Her finger came up to her lower lip and moved across it. “If you give me a better one, I’ll give you a reward.” A reward? Well… “How about HER HAPPINESS COMES FIRST?” Lara thought about it then bobbed her head happily and giggled. “That’s great. I love that.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she made the edit, then our creation slithered out of the printer and across the floor like eldritch baby. My beautiful girlfriend grabbed it and pinned it to the wall next to the others. “There we go! Now, about your reward…” Lara turned around and came towards me slowly, swaying her hips in a sensual way while her fingers circled caresses around her toned tummy. Close enough that her breasts almost pushed into me, though she made a point not to engage in any physical contact. “Do you think I’m breeding ready?” As my eyes went over her wide hips and jiggling breasts: “Definitely.” “I could get pregnant even today. Can you imagine? I’d make a baby for us. A strong black baby, of course, the only type that’s worth having. Would you like that? Would you like to know your girl is carrying a superior man’s child?” She took my hand and placed it over the hot flesh of her stomach, letting me feel the silky skin and the hard abs flexing under it. “Can you imagine cuddling me to sleep as a black baby is growing inside of me, sweetheart?” She brought her braid around and stroked it suggestively as I melted under her unbearably hot gaze. Suddenly, Lara stepped back and grinned, as I was left trembling with arousal from her words. “Got you.” It was funny to her, but scary to me. In a matter of seconds she managed to take me to an entirely different place. Surely I wouldn’t have wanted another guy to really make her pregnant. But all it took to make me feel like that's what I wanted most in the world were a couple of well-placed words. “I--” Her phone rang before I could speak. Lara spoke to her mother quickly and politely, then hang up and cursed. “Fuck. Honey, you need to go. My mom’s coming. We’ll talk later.” And just like that, with questions in my head and an unbearable erection, she threw me out of her apartment, even before I could deliver Yenn’s message. She can’t say I didn’t try.   It’s time to unwind, I thought. But as soon as I got home, Mom came and told me in a hush-hush manner that my cousin came over and that she was resting in my room. “Be nice to her, she’s having a rough patch.” My cousin Sonia and I weren’t very close. We had been once upon a time, eons ago, but then she moved away with the rest of her family. I still remembered the clumsy way we parted ways when she left home, with her refusing to come out of the car to say goodbye. I only saw the back of her ginger head through the window. Of course, we talked since then, but it always felt like talking to a stranger… So, why did she come here today? The door to my room opened soundlessly, and Sonia was just there… sleeping on the bed. The way her hip rose in the air was as a mountain, the light jeans stretched to their utmost as she bent towards my view. Despite the larger-than-life rounded fat ass in front of me, her waist was small, and her lower half bent almost entirely out of view so that it was all one could see from the door. I gulped. “Sonia?” She exhaled softly. “Cuz? Is that you?” “It is.” Her head came around, just enough that one of her bright aqua eyes connected with me and realized her huge butt was lewdly directed right at my face. Blushing, she sat up and awkwardly played it off by toying with her fingers. “Sorry about that…” But now I could see her chest and the extreme way the ribs of her green sweater stretched across it. God, how big had she gotten since I last saw her? Even with as thicc as she was, those cowtits were massive... “Sorry to pop in like this.” “No worries, I’m happy to see you.” Sonia seemed weirded out by that. “You are? But we barely talk… Listen, I wanted to ask you something: Do you think I’m a good person?” “S-Sure,” I quickly voiced. “Why wouldn’t you be?” “You know I’ve been dating this guy for a while now… and I think I screwed it all up. He had this friend he said was platonic, his best friend, but I made him break off all contact with her. Then it turned out he was talking with her after all, and so I followed them.” “You followed them?” “To prove that he was lying! But I didn’t get the reaction I wanted… He was just… He cried, Cuz. He said I made him break the heart of his best friend. And she called me a bitch. And so…” And so she came to me to make her feel better about her shitty behavior. Six years we didn’t speak, and now this?... I did my part. I weaved her a version about how he should have been honest from the start or explained his position better, and how I always knew she was good and honest. It was enough to make tears well in her eyes and get her to smile. “Oh, Cuz, you’re so nice to me… You always knew how to make me feel better. I missed that. A lot.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but wonder how big those jugs on her chest were. They were at least three times bigger than Lara’s - simply gigantic. And none of it was there when I saw her just a few summers ago. The words BREEDING READY from before came to mind, and all I could imagine was a black baby suckling from each one of those milkers. “Hey… You aren’t staring at my boobs, are you? Hehe!~ Don’t worry, everyone does it. Even old grannies.” Her hands came around them as if they were her babies. “You need strong hands just to lift them up.” “Black hands.” My reply wasn’t even conscious. I just spoke. “Huh? Come again?” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth. “Nothing, nothing! I was muttering to myself.” But seriously, it was undeniable that she would have looked perfect getting blacked. All those soft white folds enveloping a big black cock, that ginger hair getting pulled on by strong dark hands… “Was your boyfriend white?” Sonia thought about that. “I mean, yeah. Why do you ask?” I shrugged. “A lot of girls in my school date black guys.” “Really? Oh, wow. I could never do that!” The way she said it sounded so amazed and confident that there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she meant it: the idea of dating a black guy hadn’t even occurred to her. “I don’t really think I’d feel comfortable, you know?” “Dating someone that isn’t a pale ginger?” Sonia smirked. “No, you idiot! Dating a person that’s, you know… God, don’t make me say it. I feel bad saying it. But black guys aren’t exactly my type, let’s put it that way.” The almost completely unveiled racism combined with my antipathy towards her coming all this way just to use me made me want to see her punished and blacked. Hard. “Why don’t we go out?” “Hmmm? Go out? Where to?” “Let’s find you a boyfriend.” “Hahaha! You aren’t serious, are you? You’re crazy, Cuz. I don’t even have good clothes.” “You look fucking amazing already. Come on.” Sonia lowered her head shyly, so far down it was almost in her boobs. “You keep complimenting me, I’m gonna die. But okay. Let’s do it!” Before that, I needed to make a call. I left her in the room and headed to the bathroom, then scrolled with shaky fingers for Yennefer’s name. It rang a couple of times, then it said busy. Busy? Seriously… As I stared at the screen at the denied call, I suddenly saw my face reflected back. She was video calling me. Oh god… Her pale and dark-haired form materialized on my screen. She wore a shiny robe and was brushing her hair. “Why, hello darling. You’re a fast little worker bee, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Has dear sweet Lara seen come to terms with the new way things will work from now on?” “Uhhh… I’m working on it,” I said optimistically. Yenn stared right into the camera so I could feel her icy stare and sighed. “Disappointing, yet predictable. What would you like from me? I hope you aren’t begging for a show, I’m quite dressed and ready for my beauty sleep.” “Uh, no, no, no…” Her eyes narrowed threateningly. “I mean, I would LOVE that, but no… I wanted your help. You see my cousin’s over and I thought I would, uh…” “Initiate her in the Dark Arts?” “Something like that, yeah.” “And she’s come to our church begging for our teachings, or are you seeking the BBC version of a koan to force enlightenment upon her?” “Whatever the second is, probably.” Yenner smiled affably. “You are endearingly stupid, do you know that?” “Yes.” “Now, now.” She raised a finger in warning. “Vanity does not suit a man. Anyway, I suppose I can arrange this for you. I am very generous. Get your delightful cousin, I’ll send you an address soon enough.” “Thank you, Yennefer.” A smirk. She reached so far back with her brush that the robe began to open, showing a glimpse of-- Call ended. Sonia and I snuck out before my mom became aware. I only called her once we were at the bus station, pretending that Sonia insisted I go and that I had no choice. Meanwhile, Yenn sent me an address that appeared to be closeby. Standing there at the bus station by herself, my ginger cousin looked oddly vulnerable. She seemed very conscious of her bovine ass and breasts and the way everyone stared at her over them. A few girls that were trying to show cleavage by squeezing together some breasts that were baby-sized gave her genuinely hateful looks. “I hope that place we’re going to is more friendly…” I was worried Yenn would send us to some seedy club, but it turned out to be some teenage meeting spot, a book store turned cafe after 5 p.m. where people could take books out and read them while drinking. Sonia loved it, and we sat there for a whole two hours while I wondered if I had gotten the place wrong. “This is great, you know!~” She smiled happily as she flipped through another book she found. “Going out was a great idea. Not many boyfriends here though, except maybe the ones in these pages.” There was nothing to do but pay and make our way back home. Yennefer, what the hell? It was as we were chatting and walking up towards the bus stop that three guys got in our way. They looked like proper thugs, with face tats and golden teeth that flashed while they spoke. I said black guys, not fucking criminals, Yenn. “The fuck do we have here?” one of them said, circling around Sonia. “Ginger meat.” Another rubbed his palms together eagerly, then pulled on his crotch. “Looks tasty.” Sonia’s gaping eyes glanced at me as the three walled her in and started groping her, tugging at her tight sweater, palming her huge ass cheek, and running their dark fingers through her ginger hair. The few white guys that passed us by pretended not to see it and kept going like proper cucks. “Leave me alone…” said Sonia breathlessly. “I’ll call the police. Cuz!” I raised the phone to give the impression, at least, until one of them yelled at me to put it down or get my ass beaten down. I was beginning to question whether or not these people had anything to do with Yennefer at all. Could they have just been random guys? A bit suspicious… “Seriously…” Sonia tried again, her voice breaking down. One of the guys reached up and got a feel of her breasts, sinking his fingers into the warm folds of the plump flesh. “Goddamn,” he drawled. “These are some monster tits on you, aren’t they? We should inspect these. Make sure you don’t have breast cancer.” “I don’t!...” It was too late for her to fight back, as they were already pulling her after them. Whatever fight there was in Sonia evaporated pretty quickly when facing three black guys with arms about as thick as her waist. What kind of girl could have fought just one of them, let alone three? “Cuz! Do something!” she yelled. “What’s he gonna do?” one of the guys asked, laughing. That was true, I wasn’t about to do much of anything, except follow along and see where this led. They took her down an alley and then up a set of stairs that led to an apartment. They got her in the living room and locked the door, then threw her on the sofa as they took off their tops. Even my cousin, as strongly as she must have felt against the idea of being taken like this for the first time, took a moment to stare at the rippling musculature of their glistening and tattooed chests. Already, their dicks were so hard that they were outlined down the side of their pants, twitching ready. To my surprise, they didn’t rip her clothes off. In fact, despite all their big talk about how they were going to inspect her and so on, patting her down and feeling her up through her clothes was the most of what they seemed to be doing. Sonia looked away as they explored every curvy of her body, moaning each time they squeezed too hard on her. One of them came and dropped down on the sofa and pulled her in his lap, while the other two flanked Sonia. “Such a pretty ginger slut,” the one to her left said, coiling some of her ginger hair around his dark finger. “Uhm…” Though she appeared distressed, it was clear that the all the touching and attention affected her body on a deep primordial level. Not only were her cheeks a deep red, but her eyes were fluttering and her chest heaved with her heated, breathless inhalations. “Cuz?”...” said a lone whisper, but she wasn’t even looking at me. Only at the strong black bulls surrounding her that were ready to put her in her place. The guys took her pale hands and brought them down to their dicks as they throbbed through their pants, snaking so far down their thighs that even I found myself hypnotized. I watched dumbfounded as Sonia’s expression went from one of excitement, to pure shock as her fingertips explored the length and shape of their powerful shafts. “You like that?” they asked her. “You feel that thing under you?”  The guy she was sitting on started moving his hips and grinding her ass back and forth over his dick, slowly moving her back and forth while she jumped each time his dick hit her crotch. I could only wonder what her parents or boyfriend might have seen if they saw her being slutted up like this. Her mind was being warped in real time, and I could see the enchanted smile that started curling her as she took in the true size and might of those big black cocks. Her palms started moving by themselves over the shafts; at the same time, her own hips started rocking and helping the bull under her. Turned on by her new show of interest, the studs plunged their hands into her doughy breasts, each one kneading a different part, their strong fingers abusing the soft teenage tits of this breeding snowfunny as her white cousin watched helplessly. At some point one must have accidentally pinched one of her nipples, because Sonia threw her head back in pure pleasure and cooed submissively. The guy under her grinned, flashing his golden teeth. “You like that, bitch?” The aqua eyes looked to me for a brief second, as if seeking my approval. “I love it,” she confessed, still blushing wildly with shame, but completely unable to help herself. From the exhilarated way she sought to touch their cocks, it was crystal clear that the drugging effect of BBC lured her in. Her eyes went from one dick to another, gaping and unable to look away. “They’re getting bigger!” Sonia was awestruck. “No shit.” My cousin bit her tongue, then the wet mouth opened instinctively. “Can I see?...” she whispered, as if hoping no one could hear that. “What was that?” asked the guy under her. “N-Nothing,” stammered Sonia. The thugs brofisted each other and laughed it up. “You hear that, bro? She wants to see your dick.” The more I watched these guys, the more I realized there was something off about them. They were just so… stereotypically thuggish. There was an unreality about their behavior that went at odds with the mild manner in which they conducted themselves. The black guy under her yanked her head back by the hair and looked her in the eyes. “Well? Did he hear it right? You want us to get our dicks out and fuck you?” Sonia hesitated for a second. But it was only a second. A clear gulp went down her throat. “Yes.” The thug shook her. “Say it, you dumb white bitch. I want to hear it.” The obscene cowtits trembled on her chest. “I want to see your dick.” “My black dick.” Sonia’s eyes closed and she took a deep breath. “I want to see your black dick. Please,” she added. “Please? Well, ain’t you fuckin’ thoughtful. On your knees.” “Huh?” Before she could follow any order, the thug threw her to the ground and stood up before her, ordering her to kneel. “On your fucking knees, bitch! Now! Don’t you fucking hear me?” Sonia did as told and got down in a position of total submission, presenting herself as her hands were folded in her lap. “Please, sir…” He grabbed her by the ginger locks and came close enough that the outline of his big black cock twitching in his pants was right in her face. “Why don’t you kiss my dick? Show me how much you like it.” This time, there was no lag between his order and her actions. As if she were planning to do it all along, the full lips puckered up and landed right on the shaft, not just once, but many times over, delivering kisses so gentle they could have been meant for a lifelong lover. Even her tongue came out to lick it up and down, not caring it was trapped behind a layer of fabric. The thug laughed grimly, then pressed her face against his dick gleefully. I watched my racist cousin smile happily as she got her nose and mouth rubbed against his black cock. Yenn, you delivered… “Please, sir, just let me see it… Please…” she begged, as obedient as any worshiper now. How she went from a kidnapped victim to a cockcrazed slut in less than fifteen minutes was pure magic. He snorted and pushed her away. “Fuck no. Dumb white bitch. You think I’d waste my energy with you? We’re done here. Come on, get the fuck out of here.” Before Sonia could wipe the shock off her ashen face, he started kicking at her to get out, finally grabbing her by the hair and to shove her out the door like unwelcome trash. I was left behind, and once the door closed, the thug came over to me and spoke casually: “Okay, I think we’re done here,” he said, in a totally different voice. “Are we good?” “Uhm. I’m not sure?...” “Yenn said she needed a bit of a push... so, we got her there, right?” The other two started removing the gold off their teeth and wiping off the face tats. Wow. It had all been a sham? The guy watched me impatiently. “Well?” “Yes, you did great…” “That’s wonderful.” He put his hands together and bowed ever so slightly. “Thanks. So how would you rate my performance, on a scale of one to ten?” “Oh my god,” the other two said, dropping their thuggish voices as well. “Leave the kid alone, man, he’s not here to rate your acting. Performance, he says.” They snorted. “You haven’t gotten a role in two months.” “If this wasn’t a role, then I guess I won’t share the pay, huh? Anyway, you should go now. Tell our friend things went well, I could use the boost.” I came out of the apartment amazed at their and Yenn’s professionalism, and found a dismayed Sonia waiting for me. “Jesus!” She ran over and hugged me, and I could feel the warm breasts pressing into me. “I thought they were going to hurt you.” “Thankfully not.” She took a step aside and pushed her hair back, avoiding eye contact. “What happened in there… You know that was just acting, right? I was just trying to avoid getting raped or worse.” There was no way that was the truth of it. Even if she played it up, she definitely got excited by them… she still was, as could be seen from the glazed eyes and the shivers that kept passing through her. Yenn, you should’ve told them to go the whole way... As we went back home, I could tell her mind was elsewhere. “You said… those girls at your school only date black guys?” she asked me once we were back on the bus, going home. “Most of them.” “Huh.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “None of them got hurt?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hurt? Why would they get hurt? How racist are you, Cuz?” “Not racist! I’m just wary of new things, that’s all. But that’s… that’s good to hear.” For someone that had just been kidnapped and molested by black thugs, at least as far as she was aware, this was a very sudden change of heart in the opposite direction. “Maybe one day I’ll give it a shot.” I felt like toying with her further. “You just have to be careful.” “Careful?” Sonia blinked anxiously. “Of what?” “You know…” I kept my voice low as other passengers crowded around us. “That.” “I don’t know,” whispered Sonia harshly. “Tell me!” “I mean, you saw it even tonight. Black guys have cocks so big that they’re incomparable to tiny white pencil dicks. Most girls can’t take that. Some of them like serving as cocksleeves, sure, but it will still tear you apart and ruin you. These bulls will fuck you so hard that you scream and lose your voice. You won’t even be able to walk or talk after they’re done with you. You’ll just be a shivering hot mess. And the best ones get so many girls that they have no long term interests. All they’ll do is break you, put a black baby inside of you, and then throw you away like a used rag.” I could almost see the whole scene playing out in her head through the small movements of her face. At the end she just looked inwards, licking and biting her lip. I felt proud, pulling the same trick on her that Lara did on me, though I was getting aroused as well.. “Sounds awful,” she whispered, not even there with me anymore. Sonia was in her mind now, getting destroyed by black cock. In the span of a single evening, my “cuz” was turned into yet another BBC slut. I did this, I realized. Pride swelled in my heart.

[i-will-die-for-jim-mason]

Casual Friday, we promise! (Sub!Jim Mason x Fem!reader)

A/n Alright Y'all I'm gonna be real and tell you up front I wrote most of this when I was still fucked up my wisdom teeth meds, and have never really edited anything in my life so this is what is. Which is some filth. And Shout out to @langdonsoceaneyes for putting up with all my bitching while I wrote this.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut, oral, public play, butt plugs, cock rings, femdom, dirty talk.

“Babe, are we really doing this?" Jim asked eyeing the toy's you had set out on the bed, while he was in the shower.

"If you want to back out you know what to say." You smirked knowing for as much as he whined he was probably even more into this idea than you, which was saying a lot.

Jim didn't respond right away but you could practically hear him arguing with himself in his head.

You watched him from your spot on the edge of the bed. Letting your eyes roam over him, taking in how handsome he looked even just out of the shower, watching drops of water occasionally dripping off his still damp hair, running down his tanned chest all the down to the white towel loosely hanging on his hips. You couldn't help but want to run your hands over the soft skin.

After a few moments, Jim groaned, before huffing out "Fine."

"Good now that we're all in agreement, drop the towel, Mr. Mason." Jim rolled his eyes at you but did as you asked.

You motioned for him to come closer till he was almost standing between your legs, you reached out caressing the soft skin of his hip, listing to the soft hitch of his breath. With your other hand, you grabbed the cock ring next to you on the bed.

You slipped it on him, watching the way the muscles in his thighs twitched from you touching his still soft cock. Once you had it secured you looked up and saw Jim staring at the ceiling, knowing him he was probably biting his bottom, trying to not get too riled up knowing what was in store for him.

But where's the fun in that?

Leaning forward you press some light kisses to stomach, you can feel his eyes on you now, trying to figure out what your plan is.

Pulling back, you look up into his eyes before patting the space next to you on the bed. "Alright baby we still have another toy, so hands and knees on the bed."

"How romantic." Jim mocked, as he moved on to the bed.

To which you responded to with a hard slap on his ass, watching how his body jerked while he let out a groan from the surprise hit.

"Don't be a brat, I was planning to give you some prep for the next toy but I could just shove it in there dry if that's what you’d prefer?" You tease, running your hand over where you spanked him.

"I'll be good." Jim whines, shooting you a look over his shoulder, pink lips pouting at you.

"That's my sweet boy." You move to kneel behind him placing a kiss on the small of his back, before moving your attention and hands to what's right in front of you.

You squeeze two handfuls of his ass listing to the little breathy noises he makes, slightly pushing back into your touch. Letting go with one hand you bring it to your mouth wetting one of the digits.

Moving back to his ass you use your other hand to pull back one cheek, running your wet finger around his hole, barely pushing the tip of your finger in.

"You feel so fucking tight baby, with how long you took in the shower, I was half expecting to see you gaping."

"Y/N" Jim whined, pushing back trying to get you to go further.

"Hmm? Do you need something?" You hummed, grinning at the fact you already had him begging.

"Please!" Jim whined.

"Please? Please, what? You're gonna have to be more specific than that baby." You tease, still barely playing with his hole.

"Please...Please just put it in me already."

"Aw baby, you should know by now I don't do anything by halves, but since you asked so nicely maybe I'll at least give you a treat."

You move your hands so they're spreading his ass, leaning down you give a quick kiss to a cheek, before moving further down.

Running your tongue around his hole, the gasp that rips out of him is enough to spur you on.

Pushing your tongue into his tight little ass, Jim letting out more and more noises at every little movement of your tongue. Pushing back against you trying to get just a little more friction, just withering as you fuck your tongue into him.

You could have spent all night in between his legs, just listening to his reactions but tonight had other plans.

Pulling back you nip at his ass, while he whined at the loss.

“What do you still want more?” You teased running a hand along his back. To which Jim only replied with a shaky nod.

“Such a greedy little boy aren't you?” You asked, slapping his ass when he didn't respond.

Grabbing a fist full of his hair you pulled him back to make him look at you. Dazed blue eyes meeting yours.

Running two fingers along his bottom lip he quickly takes them into his mouth moaning around them.

“God look at you, you are so fucking spoiled.” You pump your fingers in and out of his mouth watching the way his plumb lips spread around them. “What do you say when someone gives you a treat?”

The thank you is muffled from around your fingers, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care as you watch him sloppily suck on them, his eyes closed, face red, already looking completely fucked out before the night even began.

Pulling them out of his mouth he lets out another whine, lips blindly chasing your fingers.

Lightly shushing him, you bring your now wet fingers back to his ass, pushing one into him. Watching how his face contorts letting out a moan.

Figuring you've teased him enough, for now, you easily add in the second finger, stretching him open listening to the wanton moans he was letting out. Pushing his hips back into you.

You continued stretching him out, he was finally ready.

You grabbed the plug and lube from their place on the bed. You can feel Jim's eyes watching you as you cover the plug in lube.

“We're almost at the fun part baby.” You grin, watching how Jim flushes at another reminder that his night is just beginning.

You slowly push the plug into him, letting him adjust.

“The stretch feel good?” Jim answers with a moan as you push the widest part into him, settling the plug into him.

“So fucking good.” He manages to get out when you have the plug fully in him.

“You doing okay?” You ask softly, running a comforting hand along his back.

“Y-yeah.” He panted out after a second.

“Well I'm gonna have you doing a lot better than that by the time I'm done with you tonight.” You say, grabbing the little black the remote that came with the plug.

Switching it to its lowest setting, you watched the shock run up Jims back, the strangled sounding moan he let out was enough to tell you he didn't think you were going to turn it on just yet.

“Well come on babe you can't lay there all night, we have reservations.”

The car ride to the restaurant was tense, well at least for Jim. You happened to have a great time, getting to watch Jim from the corner of your eye. Tensing every time he thought you might be reaching for the little remote, but you played somewhat nice for the ride only turning it on to the lower levels. Not high enough to make him cum, but high enough to make sure he felt it. And judging by the little moans he was trying to bite back the whole ride, you’re willing to bet that it was working.

When you arrived you took mercy on him turning down to a couple of notches so he wouldn’t be too obvious just walking into the restaurant.

That mercy lasted till the second you two sat at your table, turning it up a few notched you watched a full body shiver run up Jim's spine. His blue eyes staring at you his expression somewhere between pleading and pissed.

To which you just smirked, pretending to look over your menu, telling him to do the same. You casually played with the remote watching how tightly Jim would grip his menu when you turned it up.

“Y/n,” Jim whine quietly, “please I can't read with it that high.”

“Aww poor baby, I guess you should have thought of that before.” You turn it up a notch, watching how Jim bit his lip.

“Please, just turn it down a little?” He whispered, eye pleading.

“Fine but this is the only time.” You told him, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.” You turned it down, giving him a minute to collect himself, while you formulated a little plan.

Not soon after the waiter came, quickly taking your order before turning to jim. As soon as he opened his mouth to give his order you switched the remote up to one of its highest settings.

Jim's knee jerked up hitting the table, as he tried to hide the moan as a cough.

“Are you okay Jim?” You asked a look of fake concern on your face.

“I'm fine.” He said tensely once his “coughing fit” was over.

“Are you sure? You look a little flushed to me.”

“I'm fine.” He repeated, slightly glaring at you, before quickly giving the waiter his order.

“That wasn't fair.” Jim whispers, lightly pouting once the waiter left.

“I said I'd let you read the menu and I did.”

“We almost got caught.”

“Correction you almost got caught, I'm not the pervert with a vibe up my ass.” You corrected quietly, watching how he flushed even more.

“Bathroom.” Was all Jim said before leaving the table, doing a decent enough job of not looking too suspicious. Well for someone in his situation.

Waiting a few beats, you eventual got up making your way after him.

Slipping into the bathroom locking the door behind you, you saw Jim leaning against the sink counter. Looking even less composed than a few minutes ago at the table.

“You know if we're gone too long it'll be even more suspicious than that little “coughing fit” of yours.” You mused as you made your way towards him.

“Y/n.” Jim whined.

“What's wrong, are you not having fun anymore? Cause your cock says otherwise.” You tease, pressing your hand against the hard outline of his cock.

“Shit.” Jim curses, rocking his hips into your hand.

“Did I say you could to do that?” You asked, squeezing his cock.

“No, I'm sorry. Just please let me cum it's too much!” He begged, watering blue eyes staring at you.

“I bet it is too much for you, isn't it? If you didn't have that cock ring on you would've cum five times at least by now.” Jim just whimpered in response, hips jerking into you.

“But even if it's too much you gonna take it aren't you? Do you know why?” You palmed his cock slowly giving him more friction.

“Why?” Jim asked, biting his bottom lip.

“Because all that time that you were in here by yourself you could have slipped the ring off and gotten yourself off. But you didn't, because you didn't have permission did you?”

“N-no.” Jim managed to stutter out, eyes closing slightly as you picked up the pace.

“And you wouldn't do anything unless I told you to would you, and for that matter, you would do anything I told you wouldn't you?” You moved closer, all but whispering it into his ear.

“I could slip the ring off right now, turn off the plug, and tell you to rut against my hand until you cum in your pants, and you would fucking thank me wouldn't you?”

“Yes, yes I would please. Please just do anything.” Jim begged you could feel how tight his muscle were trying to keep from rocking into you without permission.

“You would do anything I say cause you want to be such a good boy don't you?” His hip bucked into your hand, at your words little whimpers leaving his mouth.

“Always” He managed to whine out.

“Is that what you want? For me to make you cum in your pants right now?”

“Yes please, y/n please let me.” He begged, eyes closed.

“Well good boys do get to cum.” You mussed, nipping lightly at his neck for a moment before pulling back.

“It's just too fucking bad you're not acting like one right now then.” You took a step back, taking your hand off his hard cock.

“What?” He opened his eyes watching you, a look of confusion on his face.

“A good boy wouldn't sneak off to the bathroom and beg for me to let him cum, he would have sat in his chair and not act like he's calling any of the shots around here.” You said sternly, taking in his fucked out appearance.

“So what's going to happen now is I'm going to go back to the table, and you're going to follow me in a few. And if I don't get to enjoy my food because you're being a spoiled needy slut, I'm going to wreck your ass so hard you're not gonna walk for a week.” You explained, moving closer to him again, feeling how he tensed at as you ran a hand over his chest.

You moved so your lips were right next to his ear you whispered: “But you would like that wouldn't you?”

You quickly left, smirking at the whine that left him at your words.

The rest of dinner was less eventful, it mainly consisted of watching Jim squirm in his seat while you ate, occasionally switching around the remote settings.

You could see that Jim was about to start begging right there when the waiter asked about dessert, but you could see Jim's visible relief when you said you had something sweeter at home.

Even on the car ride home, Jim was surprisingly quiet, your best guess was he was trying to be on his best behavior after the bathroom incident.

Even once you made it inside he was still quite, all though just from a quick glance at him you could tell that it was taking a hell of a lot of willpower.

“What's wrong baby boy? Afraid your gonna fuck up and say something that'll make me leave you like that all night?” You teased kicking off your shoes, before sitting down on the couch.

“Well lucky for you I'm not done having fun so come here.” You pointed to the spot on the floor in front of you, Jim quickly moved easily settling on to his knees.

“So what's it gonna be Jimmy are you going to be a good boy for me or a needy little slut?” You asked reaching a hand to run through his soft hair.

“A good boy.” He muttered leaning into your touch.

“Well, I remember that you said you were going to be good earlier today but look at what happened.” You pulled his head back by his hair to look at you. Jim let out a moan at the sensation

“I think you're going to need to prove it to me this time.” You grinned down at him.

“You were so eager to use your pretty little mouth to try and get to cum earlier, so why don't we try a different version of that?” You swore you could see Jim's eyes darken even more.

“Please, Y/n. Let me show you I can be a good boy.” He begged his voice low and pleading.

“Well, when you ask so nicely.”  You spread your legs, hiking your dress up and Jim wasted no time, leaning he pressed his lips to your thighs.

“No teasing baby.” You warned pulling his hair.

Moving forward he pressed his tongue against your still covered cunt, licking the wet material.

Before pulling back to look at you. “Please, may I taste   pussy?”

“Oh someone really wants to make sure they can cum huh?” You teased, smirking down at him.

“Please.” He whined pressing his face into your thigh, lightly nipping at it but you let it slide. Maybe this was why he acted so spoiled.

“Fine but you better hurry up.” You “relented” letting him pull your panties off of you.

He quickly moved back, liking a broad stripe, before moving to suck on your clit. You could feel Jim moan against you, tongue hungrily working you open.

Playing with him before you two left, watching him squirm in his chair at dinner, plus the whole bathroom incident had you soaking and now having Jim on his knees eating you out like his life depended on it was heaven.

You felt yourself close to your edge quickly, pressing Jim's head even closer to you he let out another moan, tongue working even faster.

“Fuck baby, that's it.” You were practically bucking against his face at this point, but the moans he was letting out only spurred you further.

Until finally it hit you, while Jim kept going eager to taste more of you while you rode out your high.  

You pulled him back by his hair, Jim let out a whine. Whether it was from the hair pulling or from taking him away from one of his favorite treats was anyone guess.

“Well, I guess you can be a good boy when you want to huh?” You mused, running your hand through his hair again.

“But I suppose you've had enough for one night haven't you baby? I think it's time for you to get your reward, now take off your clothes.” You instructed, almost laughing at how fast Jim managed to slip out of his clothes.

Once they were off he made his way back to between your legs, standing this time.

“God look at you, your cock is fucking soaked.” You ran a hand along the length smearing pre-cum.

“If I didn't know better I would have thought that you already came.” Jim moaned, slightly bucking into your touch.

“Well since you seemed so keen on fucking yourself against my palm early, I thought I would do you one better and let you ride my thigh.” You explained as you took his cock ring off.

“Please.” Jim moaned, already on the cusp.

“Come here, baby.” You patted your thigh, Jim quickly moved to straddle it.

“What are the rules?” Jim asked, trying not to grind himself against you already.

“No rules baby, all you have to worry about is making yourself cum, I'll take care of the rest.” You reassured, placing a hand on his hip, using the other one to turn gis plug up even higher.

With that Jim started, moving against you in a shaky rhythm, tucking his head into your neck. Letting out delicious noises.

“That's it, baby, make yourself feel good, you're being such a good boy for me.” You ran a hand down his back, all the way down to his ass.

You gave him a quick slap, making him rock into you even harder, before reaching to grab the base of his still vibrating plug.

You started pulling it out of him till just the tip remained before, pushing it back in.  You kept slowly fucking the plug in and out of him, while he rode your thigh

Soon you felt his rhythm get even jerkier you knew he was right on the edge, you started fucking him with the plug even faster. “Come on baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

That seemed to push him over the edge, letting out a deep moan, you felt his hot cum on your thigh. He stayed like for a few moments while you turned off the plug tossing it to the other side of the couch before he pulled back looking at you.

“There's my sweet boy,” You cooed pushing his hair out of his face.

“Did I do good?” Jim asked quietly after a moment.

“You did so fucking good for me, baby.” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Couldn't find a better boy even if I wanted to.”

“Let's get you a shower and into bed sweetheart.” You suggested He just nodded in agreement too blissed out to even care.

[kyidyl]

Can we talk about art for a second?

I’m pretty sure none of you are following me for art content because that’s just not what I do normally, but I’ve been working on some stuff and I just wanted to share. Here’s my current WIP:

I’m using sketchbook on my iPad Pro, and...can we just talk about process for a second? I’m gonna put this behind a cut just in case it gets long and because this isn’t my normal content. 

So I’ve been drawing almost my entire life, but I didn’t really start teaching myself anything good until around 9th grade (which is like...14 years old.). I started by copying Disney characters and then I was introduced to comic books and I copied those. I was in college when digital art start making its way into the art world. People would color their pencil drawings (this was shortly before tablets, so...with a mouse.). I grew into an artist around the time people like Aimee Major and Stephanie Lostimolo were really starting to stand out. And I don’t know about other fandoms, but I was in the gargoyles fandom and from what I can tell...a LOT of modern digital art has its genesis in that fandom. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that I started using photoshop with version 3.0 and I’ve had a Wacom tablet almost since the day they came out (gen one graphire tablet represent!).

I’ve never, in all that time, gotten the hang of digital painting. I have a hard time with tablets because you can’t tilt them like you can tilt a paper and it takes a weird sort of hand-eye-screen coordination that I just never mastered. But digital art is so beautiful that I’ve always WANTED to be able to do it. I can make graphics and edit photos but I have a hard time with painting. I have seen the million myriad ways of doing it, and most of them start with the same idea: lay down flats and then lighten or darken as necessary. And this never worked for me because a, the airbrush tool isn’t painterly enough for me and b, it takes for goddamned EVER. For. Ever. And I’m a fast artist! I can spit out a whole line drawing in like a half hour-45 mins with traditional media. But I have adhd, and so finishing long term large scale detailed projects is often not in the cards for me. So dumping like 48 hours of work time into a painting isn’t going to work for me.

But recently I’ve gotten back into art again and I’ve been watching the sky artist of the year and I decided I was curious about oil painting and, well, one hyperfixation later, here we are. I don’t have the money or space for actual oil painting, so I went to sketchbook to see if there was an alternative, and there is! So because I wanted to learn how to oil paint I finally figured out how to digitally paint and I’m gonna share that with you in case you, like me, struggle with the time input and focus required to do digital art.

First, I started practicing poses by drawing an outline over any image that caught my fancy. I have a good understanding of human anatomy because of my science background, but my poses aren’t creative and I especially struggle with perspective and multiple figures in an image. So I started to do line drawings over an image. Here’s the stock image I used for the WIP:

Look at all that fabric! Look at the movement! I love it. So I traced it:

Yes, TRACED, because tracing is a tool like anything else.

Then I choose colors. I pick 5: a midtone (the color you want the thing to be perceived as. In my case, you can see it in the WIP at the top.), a slight dark, a slight light, a blackened tone for deep shadow, and a very light tone for highlights. I always default to white light when choosing these colors, and I’ll get to my reasoning further down. The palette for the robe looks like this:

(Ignore the tan and blue, they’re for another project)

Then you start to lay down flats. Now, I do this with the synthetic oil brush in sketchbook because I like the texture (this image though I’d laid down the flats with the airbrush months ago and didn’t want to redo it, hence the lack of texture and the 100% opacity.), and as with oils, my approach to digital now is to layer rather than cover. Staying in the lines isn’t important. In fact, you should go outside of the lines because it will help you get shadows and highlights along the edges later. What IS important is putting everything on different layers. When in doubt, new layer. I work from back to front, which means that the base layer is the background. In front of that is the skin, in front of that is the robe, in front of that is the teal inside of the robe, in front of that is accessories. Hair varies depending on what’s going on with the image. Here I’ll probably put it between the skin and robe. Ask yourself: what is this covered by? And the use that to decide layer placement. Special effects are a whole other thing, as are highlights. I’ll get to that in a second tho.

The next step is to create an oversketch. This serves much the same function as an undersketch in oil painting, only in reverse because your reference photo is under - and covered - by your work. I started doing it because as I was painting I was flicking the layer on and off, making it transparent, whatever just to see where the shadows are on the reference image. It was a real pain in the rear. So I started making the blobs and borders of the highlights and shadows with an oversketch. You don’t need a method for telling which boundaries are for shadows and which are highlights because for that you can just turn the layer on and off. Just mark where the General shapes are. Here’s the oversketch for this drawing:

See? Blobs of General Area. When you’re painting, use them to lay down color and then turn them off when you’re blending because they’re not part of the final image and you don’t want to end up with gaps that were covered by the over sketch. To do this, I use the 9b pencil tool and black, but tbh just se whatever you like. That’s just my preference.

Now, for the shading. I started by trying a bunch of different natural media brushes but I eventually ended up sticking on a kind of weird choice: the fan brush. I keep the flow around 20%, which gives me these nice textured marks to lay down color, but then if I don’t lift the pencil up it stops laying down color and instead starts to blend. This means a, I can make it as smooth or painterly as I like with one tool and b, I can paint and blend with the same tool. No more muddying up my drawings by over-blending with the smudge. No losing the texture while blending because it blends with the texture. And the shape of the fan brush allows me to be smudgy with I like, but also will do hard edges. Plus the blending thins out the colors so I can get neat effects by laying down colors on top of each other because it stays a little transparent. You end up needing to lay down a lot of “paint” to get opacity but that’s ok because it allows you to make more complex colors. That’s good, because things like skin aren’t a color. They’re chemical: they’re melanin in cells over blood vessels and muscle and skin is transparent. Even very dark skinned people have undertones. So when you build up paint this way you can capture undertones without ruining your painting. Which, I’m pretty sure, is how it works in oils. But it translates well to digital.

So at this point, painting your image is basically a calming adult coloring book. You lay down color, blend, check your reference, repeat. But a few things to keep in mind:

- Take note of the darkest and lightest areas of the image. Nothing should be lighter or darker than these areas. Nothing in the drawing above will be darker than her back because that’s the darkest area of the painting.

- See the trees and the forest. Sometimes a detail doesn’t make any sense until you’ve seen it in context. Trust your guide and your photo reference. But also make sure that you don’t get so stuck in the details that you can’t relate one area to another. A fold that goes through two areas should be consistent across those two areas, even if you painted them separately. An area might seem dark in comparison to what’s next to it, but it isn’t as dark as the darkest area of the image so don’t go whole hog. Keep it in context.

- Folds in clothing aren’t nonsensical. They are a result of the movement and weight of the fabric. Ergo, the shadows and highlights that create them should also make sense.

- If you’re having a hard time figuring out where the highlights and shadows are, make a copy of the reference image layer and desaturate in, then turn off the colored reference layer.

Lastly, I’m finding it helpful to keep the highlights from colored light on its own layer. I didn’t used to do this, I used to use the colored light as one of my highlight colors. But the truth is that most objects are shaded by more than one light source, and so I’ve decided to do all the shading as white light and then the green (which will eventually be from some kind of green magic.) is on a different layer. My reasoning for this is that it helps keep the integrity of the shading and it prevents the colors from bending too much and getting muddy. So if I add a green highlight and I don’t like it then it’s easy to remove. I don’t have a highlight and shading that’s now ruined by green because I’ve been using light flow brushes. So colored light on its own layer. How much of a highlight you give it entirely depends on how strong your light sources is and whatnot. So far I’m satisfied with just hitting the high points, but I may change that later on.

When you’re done painting the area, go ahead and erase all of the excess paint around the edges of it and clean it up. I like to leave the black outline as part of the image, but if you don’t want to do that you should turn it on and off as necessary while painting so you can make sure to fill in gaps and get clean lines between the areas of color.

So if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading my ramble. :)

[letterstolevi]

roses are red

fandom: shingeki no kyojin

pairing: eren yeager/levi ackerman

rating: e

word count: 2,261

notable tags:  alternate universe - modern setting, making out, making love, ereri valentine’s day exchange 2k19

summary: “It’s cold out today,” he whispers against Levi’s ear, words slinking past his lips like a fallen silk ribbon.

For the lovely Ms. Sarah-Jane ( @attraversiamo19 ) the EreRi Valentine’s Day Exchange <3 I’m sorry this is late ilu qhwehwdfk

read here on ao3

[ or keep scrolling to read on tumblr ]

Crisp winter air assaults their faces the moment they step outside of the mall, flushing their cheeks and ears ruddy. In hand, Eren carries a bag of assorted sweets, and he lets it hang low to sway by his calves. When he turns to face Levi, holding out his other hand to be held, there’s a small smile on his lips, and Levi thinks to himself that no one could be more handsome than him.

It’s Valentine’s Day. The day of love, as Eren likes to call it. The second they walk onto the promenade, they see the place is already bustling with festivities. A bunch of teenagers in the parking lot attempt to shower the sky with confetti coloured pink, red, and white. Heart shaped chocolate assortments decorate every store window, and each passerby holds gift bags with tiffany boxes to fill up their car’s trunk with. Love was most certainly in the air, that much is obvious. This day belongs to the romantics, and he is very much not one. Eren, however, is.

Unbeknown to him, Eren’s got his eyes on him, mischief twinkling in the hues of green.

“It's cold out today,” he whispers against Levi's ear, words slinking past his lips like a fallen silk ribbon.

They enter a restaurant that sits at the end of the avenue, one that Eren apparently made reservations for, and they’re seated just a short moment after arriving. The table is nice and private, not many people sitting around them, no window to distract them. It’s shaped like a crescent, which is perfect for more intimate dining. Even after settling in their booth they remain in silence, and Eren taps his lover’s hand gently to get his attention.

“Aw, come on. Indulge me for a while.” Eren tosses a smile Levi’s way, finger tapping the side of his empty glass.

“In which way?”  

“Whichever way you want. You’ve been quiet.”

Levi shrugs his puffer jacket off and folds it over the side of the booth before scooting up, nudging the tip of his heeled boot against Eren’s converse clad foot. He rests his elbow on the table, cheek squished into the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t have much on my mind.”

Eren barks out a short-lived laugh, a grin teetering onto his face. “Really? Considering you keep staring at me, I thought otherwise.” Eren begins to roll up his sleeves, revealing thick muscle and the dark tattoos that decorate his skin.“ Like what you see?”

Levi pulls his face into a small frown, averting his eyes downwards“You look fifteen,” He says, not answering the question. Eren’s sense of fashion varied, but today it includes a red plaid flannel with the top buttons undone to reveal a snug undershirt, and ripped black jeans with holes all the way down to the calf. He looks like he should be at a skatepark, not a costly restaurant, but fashion is fashion. Levi prefers to stick to his turtlenecks and slacks, and Eren secretly prefers it as well.

“Twenty-five isn't too far off from that.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Eren, please.”

“Please, what?” Eren takes liberty and slides a hand up Levi’s thigh, caressing it with soft touches.

Levi looks a bit startled before his gaze settles back on Eren. A question stands still in his eyes, and it is answered by a soft kiss planted on his cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

Levi bats his lashes, before returning the favour with a kiss on Eren’s lips. “Happy Valentine’s.”

☆

After their dinner they sit with drinks in hand, champagne of Eren’s choice, the flavour more like a concoction of cherry. They’re waiting for the waitress to return with his card, which they’re in no rush to get, or it feels that way.

The part of the room they’re in has mood lighting, soft and somewhat dull, not that they minded. Candles everywhere, weird soft instrumentals playing off of some speaker somewhere in the room. The atmosphere is set to be romantic, and it seems to be working, as Eren can’t keep his hands to himself. He’s mellow, allowing cheeky smiles to grace his lips, enjoying the lingering embarrassment on Levi's face as he slips a hand around his waist and under his shirt, thumbing over the outline of his hip. His other hand surely having made its way back on his thigh, fingers raking soft lines into fabric. Thank god for private tables.

“Eren…”

Before he can answer him, the waitress returns with his card, leaving the receipt and wishing them a blessed rest of their evening. Eren scribbles something on it and flashes sweet lips at Levi.

“Want to go back to bed?”

☆

They’re home, and Levi’s sitting at the edge of the bed waiting patiently, watching as Eren undoes his hair from it’s half bun-like tie, allowing his hair to flow free to his shoulders. He’s got his back to him, and Levi’s eyes wander over the canvas of his back. Observing his tanned skin, free of scarring everywhere but the nape of his neck and the purlicue of his left hand. His right arm plastered with a sleeve of tattoos, abstract shapes and designs drawn from shoulder to wrist. When Eren finally turns back around, Levi can feel his heart speed up, arousal stringing through his veins, and he lifts his head up in anticipation. When their eyes meet, the expression Eren gives him is near unreadable, but his gaze stays soft. He makes his way to the bed, propping up his knee to rest on the edge of it, in-between Levi’s legs, a silent cue for him to spread. Levi scoots further up on the covers, his breathing hitching as Eren climbs up, shoring over him.

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful,” Eren says, leaning them down into the bed, pressing soft kisses over the profile of his face, hands smoothing over the small of his waist. With his lips now pressed in the crook of his neck, he can feel the small shivers that emit from his lover's body, chilled and anxious— waiting, wanting— longing to be touched. He listens to his sighs that roll off, like the content purr of a feline, soft and unsteady.

Under Eren Levi relaxes, his eyes closed and lips parted as he breathes softly through his mouth. He lay there in anticipation, his eyes may be closed but he studies Eren's next move quietly, surely. Eren’s chest begins to crush into him with soft but ample force, his arms wrap around him, teeth nip at the soft skin of his neck. Eren’s hand finds its way pressed onto his ass, and Levi bites down into the fleshiness of his bottom lip. His eyes reopen half-lidded, the dark lashes that outline them sporting a soft sheen. He taps his fist on Eren’s collarbone, spreading it out into a flat palm to push Eren up off of him. With space between them, he slides his hands down Eren’s abs, ignoring the way Eren makes eyes at him, and grabs his cock through the material of his jeans, squeezing and kneading.

“Levi,” Eren breathes, eyes closed tight as pleasure trickles up his spine, warming him to the bone. He can feel as his cock stiffens and stirs against the fabric of his boxers, making it hard to think on anything other than what he feels and breathing. He affords a low groan as Levi palms his crotch from through his jeans, still squeezing ever so lightly every now and then.

“Levi,” Eren says again, desperate, teeth grit as he yearns to free his straining erection. Though his pleas yield no reward of relief, only a soft stare from loving eyes.

When Levi realizes he’s fully hard, only then does he abandon his bulging crotch to undo the zipper to his jeans, much to Eren’s delight. Once undone the bulge sags through the opening, and he hooks his fingers into Eren’s waistband and pulls the boxers and jeans down to his thighs, and Eren takes care of the rest.

On his knees, Eren tugs off Levi’s bottom garments as well, the soft crunching of fabric being removed from his legs making him feel harder than what’s possible. He musters a frown as he discards the clothes off to the side, “Your shirt is still on.”

“You haven’t noticed?” Levi thins his lips as Eren’s frown deepens in a dramatic fashion. He guides one of Eren’s hands under his shirt and onto his chest, biting his lip again as fingers sprawl out to squeeze over his nipple. “Take it off me…”

Doing just that, Eren works the turtleneck off, and into the pile with the rest of their clothes. “There,” he says low, hoisting up Levi’s thighs. He drags his nails over the pale skin, his erection unsatisfied with just laying heavy on Levi’s inner thigh. He dodges back downward, capturing his lips against his own, warm and reassuring. The kiss rings in their chests, awakening mutual need for tongue and teeth. Levi laps at Eren’s bottom lip, and Eren accepts, opening, welcoming him with subtle passion. Soft moans from around their lips, locked inside the hold of their mouths. Saliva strings from their lips when they let go, and Eren drags his teeth on Levi’s lip before straightening himself back up, hand rolling over his lover’s abs.

“Baby, hand it to me.” He gestures to the bottle of lubricant he had tossed on the bed a little after they entered the room. With swift movements, the bottle finds its way from off the bed and into Eren’s hands, and he pops open the top and squeezes the cool gel into his hand.

“Now, be patient,” Eren cooes, as he slathers the lubricant over own cock and Levi’s entrance, a finger pressing over and pushing inside. He draws a small but exaggerated breath from Levi, who’s arching his back ever so slightly, pushing down onto the single digit that prods in him. Eren watches his fingers curl at the bedding as he inserts yet another finger, watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he stimulates him so carefully.

Heat swarms Eren’s belly, zapping his cock with little zings of unfulfilled pleasure, driving him to his edge. He has half the mind to withdraw these fingers and stroke himself, but patience... patience. Push and pull, thrust a little harder, scissor then rub. He looks up to see Levi’s staring at him, eyes heavy, his cock leaking plentiful onto his stomach. He removes his fingers, tapping Levi’s inner thigh, and Levi gets the hint and wraps them around his waist.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eren says, firmly with concentrated eyes as he aligns himself at his entrance, rubbing there before pushing with one good roll of his hips. A soft cry escapes Levi’s lips as Eren enters him, his head dipping back into the pillow as he lets out a long and shaky gasp. He braces himself on his shoulders, fingers card at the soft strands on Eren’s nape before slipping into the thickness of his hair.

Levi watches as he continues to push inside of him, and Eren can see the hunger in his eyes, in the way he bites his lip and furrows his brow. He can see the want and need Levi has to be fucked ravenously, and he’ll do just that, give it to him hard and vigorous, like a starving wolf met with unexpected dinner. Sweat beads on his forehead and rolls down on his temple, his eyes sharp, hands fastened at Levi’s hips. A low growl hangs off Eren’s lips, spilling over like honey. Levi’s hot, very hot, and the way he clenches around Eren’s cock isn’t helping in the slightest. He bends back over him, slamming his hips into him with harshness, but his words softer than feathers.

“Love, you’re gorgeous. So good for me.” Eren murmurs low against his ear, relishing in his soft whines, drinking in the collective gasps for breath.

The way Levi rubs his thighs against his hips is maddening, their strong grip warming his skin, making his eyes want to roll back into his skull. Eren drives his fingertips into the fleshy bit of one of them as he begins to thrust harder, his cock crashing into his prostate whenever he dives back in. He keeps pounding harder and harder, prompting out pleas for more, more, and more. They rock their hips together, grinding their groins in sweet sweet friction. His name rolls off Levi’s tongue like a prayer, soft to the ear, heavy on his heart. He can only let himself drown in all the sensations until he can feel his balls tighten and heat pool excessively in his groin. He buries his head where it lay, bracing himself with grit teeth as Levi’s walls bear down on his cock as he soars to his climax. Levi comes with a choked gasp, his mouth ajar, limbs trembling so slightly and back arched into Eren’s embrace.

Eren knows he can’t hold out any longer, and with a few last shallow thrusts, he comes hard inside him, his hips stuttering with the spasms of his release. After a moment's rest, he slips out and rests on top of him, holding him as close as their bodies allow him to. He places kisses on Levi’s face in silence, turning himself on his back, and hugging Levi to his chest.

“I love you.”

Levi sighs softly, his hand splaying down Eren’s abdomen. “I love you too.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I know this is technically a day late, but let’s pretend I totally posted this yesterday... 

Neil starts outlining a plan in his head as he ducks between students and buildings. Group projects are the bane of his existence, but he has to do them if he wants to pass, and he has to pass if he wants to be eligible to keep playing Exy. At least this time Joseph Peters isn’t in his group, but he still prefers individual assignments. The faster he gets his five slides done, the less he has to interact with the group.

Neil cuts across the Green because it’s faster, but he has to weave through a sea of bodies. The warmer weather of spring has drawn out many students from their hoards in the library. From sunbathers to studiers, the grass is now marred by waves and waves of bright colors and tanned skin. The combination of laughter and the singing of nearby birds tangle together in the air like a tangible cacophony, and the rays of the sun lick down along the ground, creating a blissful atmosphere.

Neil sidesteps around a group of sorority girls and ducks to avoid getting in the middle of an ultimate frisbee game. By the time he makes it Perimeter Road, the crowds have thinned out, and it’s easy to cross the road and head up towards Fox Tower.

His dorm is dark when Neil unlocks the door. For some reason all of the lights have been turned off, and it instantly strikes Neil as odd. He knows he can double check the schedule taped to the fridge, but he distinctly remembers Nicky’s class getting out earlier than his. Even stranger still is the fact that someone has blocked out the windows, so only a few straggling bands of light seep in. The stark darkness puts Neil on edge, settling deep in his chest and making waves of anxiety begin to churn. He knows it’s been three years, that there’s no need to run anymore, but that doesn’t stop the disquiet in his bones or ease the itch now sparking in his muscles. He’s considering heading up to the roof and texting Andrew when the lights flick on.

“Surprise!”

Neil jolts at the sudden change and shout, stumbling back and slamming his elbow into the door frame.

“Graceful.”

It takes Neil a moment to recognize that sarcastic tone, and another still for his eyes to register Allison’s unimpressed face across the room from him. He has to blink a few times to fully take in the room. Matt and Dan are standing just outside the kitchenette, arms still up, where they must’ve been hiding for the surprise. Allison and Renee are standing behind the couch. Even Kevin’s there, perched on the couch beside Andrew. Streamers have been hung all over from the ceiling, some twisted together in a pattern and others hanging down to create curtains in the doorways. Two bundles of balloons sit either side of the desks where a stack of brightly colored gifts awaits.

“That was priceless. You should’ve seen your face,” Nicky says, coming over to sling his arm around Neil’s shoulders and show the striker a video on his phone. “I am definitely posting this.”

Before Neil can respond, he’s being pulled into a bear hug.

“Oh, man, we got you good,” Matt says, ruffling Neil’s hair. “Happy birthday, Neil.”

Once Matt releases him, Dan steps up for a hug of her own, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Happy birthday,” she says. “So, did you want to do presents or cake first?”

“I can’t believe you all came back,” Neil says, looking around the room and addressing everyone. “You didn’t have to do that. Or get me anything.”

“Same old Neil,” Allison sighs.

“Let’s do presents first,” Dan says, pushing Neil to sit down on the couch before handing him a gift wrapped in bright blue paper. “That’s from Allison.”

All of the Foxes take seats around Neil as the striker slowly starts to tear open the gift. He opens the box to find new clothes, including a new hoodie.

“I know you prefer comfort over fashion,” Allison says. “So, at least that’s high-end.”

“Thanks,” Neil says, setting the opened box aside.

The next gift reveals a nice moleskin sketchbook and a set of pencils and pens.

“For your doodles,” Renee explains sweetly.

Dan’s gift is a collage photo frame, and Neil takes a minute to examine each photo. There’s one of all of them after championships, one of him and Andrew from the girls’ graduation party, one of him and Matt from a neon party they went to Matt’s last year. Neil touches each photo, and he can’t help the smile that pulls its way across his face. Seeing all these makes warmth pool in his gut, and for a moment, his chest feels tight with everything he feels for this family, his family. They’ve stood by him for years, and now they’ve all journeyed down just for his birthday. It leaves Neil feeling overwhelmed and yet so happy. He’s not sure how to even begin to put into words how grateful and thankful he is.

“Way to go, Dan,” Nicky says. “How is anyone supposed to follow up a gift like that?”

Despite his words, Nicky drops a card into Neil’s lap. Inside is a hand drawn coupon declaring one free ticket to Germany.

“So you can come visit me, obviously. Just pick a date, and I’ll buy the ticket.”

Another card reveals season tickets to the Charlotte Cardinals games from Matt and the last has a gift card to Exites in it from Kevin.

“I think that’s all of the gifts,” Renee says, checking the desk they were previously piled on for any stragglers.

“Wait. What about Andrew?” Nicky says. “Didn’t you get Neil anything?”

“I really didn’t need any of these gifts,” Neil pipes up.

“That’s no excuse!” Nicky continues before turning on Andrew. “Seriously, you didn’t get your own boyfriend a gift for his birthday?”

“Maybe his gift to Neil is the type he’d rather give when they’re alone later,” Allison says.

“I did not need to know that,” Matt mutters.

“Alright,” Dan says, pitching her voice above everyone and clapping her hands together in an attempt to diffuse the tension quickly accumulating in the room. “How about cake now?”

Everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while the cake is brought out, and they encourage Neil to make a wish and blow out the candles. Neil thinks for a moment, but he can’t think of anything he’d wish for. Everything he could ever want is right here. He has a group of people who love and support him, who will always have his back and are willing to drop everything for something as trivial as a birthday. He has someone who doesn’t flinch away from his scars or his past, who’s strong enough to hold him up. He has an Exy court down the road that’s his home, that has a team ready and willing to follow him. And he has a future to look forward to for once. A future full of more of this.

So Neil closes his eyes and thinks of nothing as he blows out his candles.

Once the cake is cut and divvied up and the booze is broken out, the room fills up with warm and comfortable chatter. It’s like half the people in this room haven’t graduated, like nothing has changed, and Neil is more than happy to sit and just bask in it. He sips at the drink that was mixed for him and watches everyone around him, hoards the sights and sounds for when everyone leaves. He talks a bit with Allison about her designing and with Renee about where her next adventure will be. He even briefly talks with Kevin and Matt about the differences of playing in the pro-league.

The hours tick by faster than Neil would like, but eventually the night has to come to a close. Matt and Dan are making the two-hour trip back to Charlotte, and Allison and Renee are heading back to a hotel for the night before flying out early tomorrow morning. Kevin leaves to head to Wymack’s for the night, and the living room feels too empty as the last of the Foxes file out to head to bed. Neil tries not to feel deflated by the change, but the catch in his lungs with each breath is hard to ignore. He looks down at Dan’s gift and tries to cling desperately to the feelings of just an hour before.

A nudge to the side brings Neil back and when he looks to his left, Andrew is standing from the couch and heading for the door. Neil is quick to follow and they head up to the roof. They’re quiet as Andrew lights up two cigarettes, eyes watching out over the campus. It’s a clear night for once but the lights from the freeway blur out most of the stars. It’s still nice. The warmth from the spring night and Andrew beside him settling Neil.

Andrew lights up his second cigarette and curls his fingers around Neil’s wrist. He raises Neil’s hand up between them and drops a key into the palm. Neil freezes in confusion for a moment before he brings the key closer to his face and examines the simple stainless steel of it. He flips it over once before running his finger along the ridges and dips.

“What’s this for?” Neil asks.

“Finally decided,” Andrew says. “Sent over my paperwork to the Monarchs a few days ago.”

“What does that have to do with a key?”

“I’m not going to commute to Boston from here. Got an apartment in Back Bay.”

Neil blinks a few times at Andrew’s profile as he continues to smoke. He watches the way the smoke curls around the goalkeeper’s features for just a moment before he glances back down at the key in his hand.

“Happy birthday I guess.”

Neil closes his fingers around the key and bites his lip around a smile. Happy birthday indeed.

[astralsweetness]

Have Some Fun (Kyungil/Reader)(m)

History is such an underrated group, and it makes me so sad. So does the fact that Kyungil recently went off to enlist. I’m just a ball of sadness.

This is the roughest smut I’ve ever written, wow. Not the kinkiest, but… the roughest.

Warnings: Handcuffs, autoerotic asphyxiation, eating out/sort of facesitting, smoking, hickeys, and Kyungil gets slapped. Also, don’t be idiots like them and use a condom.

He glares at you angrily from underneath his bangs, hands wrenched above him and handcuffed to the bedpost. He’s cross-legged on the floor, all muscle and intimidating presence, but even his strength does nothing to help aid his escape. It simply makes the handcuffs dig into his wrists and jangle annoyingly against the wood, only serving to remind him that they are stronger than him, and they are holding him in place.

His expression darkens when he sees you, a dangerous look on his otherwise handsome face, and his lip curls back from his teeth – he’s pissed, that much is blatantly obvious. Pissed might be an understatement, even. You don’t really pay it any attention.

After all, it was his fault he’d gotten so drunk around you. He’d felt at home around you, and he’d let down his guard – he should have known better than to get so wasted – and you’d taken advantage of it, handcuffing him to the bed you shared and taking it upon yourself to remove his shirt. You’d been his girlfriend for long enough that he should have known this would eventually happen, that you would have found a way to get what you wanted.

You always got what you wanted when it came to him.

“Where’s my shirt.” Kyungil’s voice is nothing less than a growl, and you wordlessly point to your side, where it sits folded carefully. You yourself sit with your legs crossed on the floor across from him, eyes trained more on his abs than on his actual face. You wonder if he’s cold – you left the window open, and there’s a nice cool breeze floating in from outside.

You knew he hated how you were looking at his body and not his face – you liked the way his expression turned nastier when he noticed.

“Let me go.” It’s a flat out order – no emotion behind it other than an unspoken threat. You knew he was bluffing.

“Hmm.” You pretend to contemplate it, but he furrows his brow and you can tell he’s seen through it immediately. “No. I want to have fun first. So we need a safe word.”

“We have a safe word.” He says this like you’re an idiot for forgetting, and you simply grin back.

“Then I guess we’re all set.” You respond easily, moving up on your knees to pull your shirt over your head. Kyungil’s eyes are hard on your body, scoping out every inch of skin – he’s seen it all before, and he looks annoyed that he can’t touch it now unlike every other time.

“Let me go.” It’s the same order as before, but it sounds more urgent this time and like less of an order and more of a request. You know he’ll never beg, nor go submissive willingly, but with his hands literally tied you were sure it wasn’t going to be too hard to get him to go along with you plan. Probably.

“No.” You scoot the tiniest bit closer to him, reaching out a hand to gently stroke his platinum blonde bangs out of his eyes – he blinks in appreciation at you, though the hard and angry lines of his face are still present. “Is your hangover bad?”

“If I say yes, are you going to let me go?” He’s clearly expecting your headshake in the negative, but your kiss takes him by surprise for a split second before he responds hungrily, straining against the handcuffs to get closer to you. Despite his handicap Kyungil dominates the kiss easily, biting at your lips until you let him in and then scoping out every inch of your mouth with his tongue – your hands lace through his hair, tugging at the dyed strands periodically until he releases your mouth. His bee-stung lips are shiny with your saliva, and his neck is craned back ever so slightly from your hands fisted in his hair.

You bend down to suck at his neck, hands still in his hair – he sucks in a harsh breath, somehow still sounding angry, and you can hear him pull at his handcuffs again. He’s never been in a situation like this, where you were mostly in complete control – he’s handling it well, however, and you’re not worried in the least. Kyungil’s responsible enough to use your safe word if things take a route he isn’t comfortable with.

A dark mark has appeared on his tan skin, purple blossoming out from your ministrations – similar ones dot your collarbone, though they’re much more faded. When you glance up you notice his eyes have slipped closed – he’d never admit it, but you knew he enjoyed it when you marked him - but a sharp nip to his jaw instantly has them flying open, a curse ready on his tongue as your hands fisted full of his hair keeps him from jerking away.

“What the fuck?” There’s definitely some bite behind his words, but not enough to deter you from what you’re doing – you smile up innocently at him, and he narrows his eyes back, not buying it. “You better take these off –“

He breaks off into a gasp as your hand closes in around his neck, effectively cutting him off – you two have done this before, and you know how far you can go and when you need to stop. If you watch closely enough you can see the way his pupils are slowly dilating, and when his eyelids start to flutter shut you let go. Kyungil gasps in air and looks at you in confusion, but you don’t say anything – this was part of your plan. Choking him was just to show him who held the power in this little game.

And it wasn’t him.

He’s still moderately irked, but you don’t pay it any mind and drop your head to attach your mouth to one of his nipples – a sharp intake of breath is the only reaction you get from him, but that’s okay. Just because he wasn’t very vocal didn’t mean you didn’t have any way of telling if he was enjoying himself.

His dick was just as good, if not better at telling you how much he was enjoying it, and when you glanced down you could see the outline of it clearly through his jeans.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself more than you want to admit.” You murmur softly, blowing cool air against the skin you’d previously had your mouth on – a visible shudder wracks his body at the change in temperature, and you take his momentary shift in attention to reach down and squeeze his bulge.

Kyungil grunts and bites at his bottom lip to keep quiet as you stand and slowly unlock one of the handcuffs. It’s all part of your plan, and you knew he could over-power you at any moment – but he doesn’t. He lets you guide him up and onto the covers, simply watching you with dark eyes as you re-handcuff his hands to the opposite end of the bed. He’s curious, and ultimately that’s the reason he’s still handcuffed, head resting more comfortably on the pillow, helpless once again. It’s his curiosity’s fault that he’s surrendered his dominance.

You strip quickly, not making a show out of it in favor of hurrying, climbing up to sit on his chest – he supports you easily, eyes locked onto your frame hungrily, gaze dropping down to your pussy. His fingers wrap around the chains of the handcuffs tightly – he knows that pulling on them is fruitless now, but he does so anyway. The metal creaks threateningly, but ultimately he makes no headway and simply puts on a show for you as you watch the muscles in his arms tighten at the strain.

“You need to –“ He’s cut off with a slap to the face, head jerking to the side – your own palm stings a bit, but it’s a small sacrifice for the way his eyes widen, platinum hair falling back into his face. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, but when he pulls his head back up to look at you he’s smirking, almost like you’ve initiated a challenge.

Of course you hadn’t gone too far – Kyungil liked it rough. He had scratch marks on his back to testify to that, and he’d barely been fazed by you choking him earlier.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” It’s phrased as a question, but you know he doesn’t mean it as one – you match his smirk easily, a silent agreeance. “You better get started, baby. You’re soaking my chest.” It’s an exaggeration, but you flush anyway, and he seems immensely satisfied with your flustered reaction.

You may be wet, but you knew you sure as hell weren’t dripping onto him. Not yet, anyway.

“Shut up.” You mean for it to be an order, but it comes out mumbled and indignant, and he has the gall to laugh at you – you should have gagged him when you had the chance. It’s a lesson learned, now.

Swallowing your embarrassment you scoot up higher, moving to hover over his neck – his eyes travel up your body and lock onto your face, silently gauging your intentions. You’d done things like this before, of course, but never in this position.

Pushing yourself over the last barrier is harder than you had thought it was going to be – you knew you weren’t going to hurt him, but the entire thing suddenly seemed like a bad idea. What else were you supposed to do, though?

“Hurry up, babe. I wanna taste you.” His words, despite being a deep rumble in his chest, are the sort of urging you need and in no time you’re lowering yourself down onto his mouth, gasping out as he wastes no time in thrusting his tongue in as deep as he can. This is usually the part where he pulls back and tells you how good you taste, but he physically can’t pull away, and you wonder if he can even breathe. (He doesn’t seem to care much for air either way, because no matter how you press down on him he surges up, trying to get more, to get closer.)

Kyungil’s vigorous in his endeavors, and your hands fly down to lace through his hair as his nose rubs against your clit – you know it’s intentional from the way he chuckles against you, and the vibrations it sends through you have you writhing on his tongue above him. Your vision is locked blearily on his handcuffed hands, the pads of his fingers digging into the metal chains.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and Kyungil’s tongue and lips and everything was the instrument stoking that fire. He switched between licking and sucking with no real obvious patterns, and each time a moan slipped out between your lips he rewarded you with a suck directly on your clit that sent your head spinning.

In no time at all you were orgasming onto his tongue, body arching forward and hands tightening in his hair to the point where you swore you’d heard him whine – then again, all your senses were so fuzzy at that point you weren’t sure it wasn’t you whining.

You end up slipping off of Kyungil without even realizing it, sitting in a shuddering heap beside his chest while he watches you with dark eyes, chest heaving as he sucks in air. His lips and chin are both shiny from your juices, and a spark runs through you when he licks his lips to glean any last taste from them in between his gasping breaths.

“Let me go.” His voice is much rougher than it had been previously, and you feel compelled to obey – he scoffs when you reach up and click the fast release mechanism on the side of one of the cuffs. He hadn’t even thought to search for one of those.

He grabs your shoulder with his warm hand and drags you over in front of him, and you’re powerless to resist as he lays you out beneath him, body still weak from your orgasm. The handcuffs still dangle from his left wrist, but he doesn’t pay it any mind – he rips his pants off faster than your eyes can follow, though you focus in on his impressive bulge hidden behind a pair of unassuming black boxers. You off-handedly wonder if those jeans had been hurting him, containing such a big package.

You reach for them but he knocks your hands away and wrenches them down to his knees, not even bothering with the time it would take to remove them completely. He’s needier than you thought he’d be, and while it hurts when he pushes into you with no warning the pain isn’t enough to cause you to speak up. You know it’ll bleed into pleasure soon enough.

Trying to lock eyes with him is pointless – Kyungil’s shut his eyes tightly, head bowed and jaw set – because the force of his thrusts jostle you so badly that it’s hard to directly focus on anything at all.

“Kyungil..” His name leaves your lips in the form of a soft moan, and his head snaps up so he can lock eyes with yours, his hips evening out their pace as he takes in your beautiful face. It takes three seconds before he’s kissing you, your arms locking around his neck as he changes his pace, sliding deeper inside of you than before as he sacrifices speed for finesse.

His has high stamina, but tonight is completely different – you’ve riled him up too far and gotten him too needy for him to last as long as usual, and he orgasms with a groan that you swallow up with your own mouth.

He stays still for quite a few minutes, softening inside of you while you stroke his hair and let him calm down. It’d be an easy enough thing to get him ready again for round two, but this fun idea of yours had been more exhausting than you’d expected, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it.

When he finally collapses down beside you he kicks his boxers the rest of the way off almost as an afterthought, and you don’t comment on it – you’d both slept together naked enough times that by now it didn’t even faze you. Kyungil holds up his left wrist while reaching for the cigarettes on the bedside table, and you silently congratulate yourself for your foresight in opening a window as you click the handcuff off of his wrist. He takes a long drag and rests the now unhandcuffed hand on your bare shoulder, warm fingers rubbing at the skin – you can physically feel him relaxing, and when you look up at him he meets your gaze and smiles.

“I love you.” He says it unabashedly, and you giggle when he leans down to brush his nose against yours affectionately. He’s so different during sex that sometimes you forget how sweet he can be.

“I love you too. How are your wrists? Your shoulders?” He places the cigarette between his teeth to hold up both his wrists, inspecting them. You peer at them from your place nestled between his arm and his side – they look red and painful, but at least the skin hadn’t been broken.

“It’ll be fine in a day or two.” His words are slightly warped from the cigarette, but still clearly intelligible. “I don’t need ice or anything.” He squeezes you tightly against his side for a moment before leaning away to put the cigarette out in the ashtray – when he lays back down you’re pulled back to his side, his fingers wandering up into your hair to massage at your scalp.

“That was fun.” Your voice is soft, and his deep chuckle vibrates through his chest and into your body.

“That was fun.” He echoes back, grinning and turning his head away from you when your gaze suddenly locks onto him. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not saying we should do that again.”

“You’re not?” Both you and he knew this was going to happen again at some point. It was inevitable. “That’s too bad.” He laughs again and you join in, all his anger and pent up neediness from before completely gone.

The rest of the night is spent in comfortable silence – though you’d convinced him into getting up to get something to clean both of you off with - your head resting on his chest and his hand in your hair, the soft drone of the world outside your window lulling you into a comfortable and sleepy state. It’s only broken by Kyungil’s deep voice a good ten minutes later.

“You know, it’s going to be my turn to have some fun with you next.”