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wttcsms · 1 year

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diesel is desire (we were playing with fire) ; sebastian sallow

pairing sebastian sallow x f!reader word count 4k synopsis sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief. content contains seventh year au, dubcon (under the influence of lust potion), darker take on seb's character lol <3, breeding kink, creampie, possessive!sebastian, possessive sex, virginity loss, babytrapping

“Why did you go out of your way to avoid me?”

An accusatory voice momentarily breaks you free from the overwhelming feelings you were struggling to deal with, but the voice is too familiar.

The source? Sebastian Sallow — a very disappointed Sebastian Sallow, which after two years of friendship (and the lingering what-if of becoming something more), you’re able to identify as a Sebastian that you would much rather not be dealing with. Particularly because, try as hard as he might, he’s rather prone to saying harsh things and treating you unkindly whenever he gets into one of his moods. The hurt expression on his face is barely concealed by the scowl that mars his otherwise handsome features.

Don’t think about how handsome he is!

Instead of replying to him, you’re quick to turn your head to the side, trying to focus on the curtain that separates your cot from the others in the infirmary. It’ll do no good to engage with Sebastian right now — not whenever the reason you’ve been compelled to check yourself in to the school nurse is purely because you’re not sure if you have enough self-control to stop yourself from literally ripping his robes off of him.

But it’s not like you can tell him all that. Lying would be preferable, if only Sebastian wasn’t so attuned to you and every single one of your tells. If you attempted lying to him, who knows what more damage you would cause? Then again, blatantly ignoring him also seems equally dangerous, especially with how quick to irritate he’s been lately. Ever since you witnessed him literally murdering his uncle, the relationship between the two of you has grown stronger — being practically partners in crime will do that to a friendship — but also more… volatile. The charming fifth-year you met on your first day of school still remains, but you have long since realized that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On the surface, he’s nothing but affable. Maybe a bit of a rebellious streak, but it’s all in good nature. In the beginning, it was fun being with him. Exciting, even. Then you started following him on the dark path he paved all by himself, and before you could realize that you were in too deep, it had already been too late to turn around. Now, the seventh-year boy standing by your cot seems so different from the one who lives on only in your memories.

“Don’t ignore me.” He means to make the words come out sharp, irritated. It resembles more of a plea than anything, and you shut your eyes, willing him to leave. It must be all in your head, but you swear you can smell the familiar scent of him: cool mint mixed with the light musk of whatever cologne he’s been favoring since the fifth year.

“Sebastian, I’m not feeling very well.” You mumble, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to leave you alone. It’s not a lie. You aren’t feeling great whatsoever. Not even the nurse, bless her heart, can figure out what’s become of you. She gave you a pitying look and an almost amused smile as she explained that — in her words — sexual urges are very normal for girls your age.

If your body wasn’t already overheating, you’re certain your cheeks would have instantly turned hot from sheer embarrassment.

“Well, why wouldn’t you tell me that instead of abandoning me the whole entire day?” Sebastian is many things with different people. With you, he is both guarded and vulnerable. Some days, when you’re not feeling your best, his emotions versus his actions can give you whiplash. He has the audacity to say something like that all the while, he sounds absolutely tortured over the fact that he had to go eight hours without your presence.

As if realizing the harshness of his attitude, he softens his tone as he asks, “Are you feeling any better?”

You had gone to the Great Hall before him because you needed to review your History of Magic notes before the test today. All you had was a bit of pumpkin juice and toast, and all had been well until you started feeling warm underneath your robes and sweater. As the heat began to travel through your body, you found it hard to concentrate on your notes. Not because of the heat, but because of the many thoughts swirling around in your head. Flashes of Sebastian that started innocently enough and quickly morphed into daydreams of him without his uniform. Sebastian with his hair messed up from the way your fingers tugged at the strands as he satiated his thirst with the juices flooding between your legs. Sebastian who would prioritize your pleasure over his and could make you cum multiple times before even thinking about getting his dick wet. Sebastian—

—who you share most of your classes with!

You knew right then and there that something had to be wrong with you. Sure, you’ve thought about him sometimes, but never to that degree. And certainly never at seven in the morning over breakfast and history notes.

That’s how you ended up lying in a cot in the infirmary, trying your hardest to ignore the intrusive thoughts of Sebastian fucking you ‘til you can’t walk anymore.

“No.” You practically moan out the word, and you’re hoping to play it off as just you being a baby about being “sick”.

You don’t expect him to turn your head so that you’re staring up at the ceiling, and you certainly don’t expect him to press the back of his hand against your forehead. His hands are cold, but surprisingly enough, it brings you some sort of relief from the fever that has seemingly overtaken your body. You bite back another moan.

“You’re burning up.” Gone is his attitude. Instead, it’s been replaced by your favorite Sebastian — the kind, caring one. The one that resembles the boy you first met. Sometimes, his care can be suffocating, but when you find yourself craving nothing but him and his touch, you don’t mind his invasion of your personal space at all. “Are there any other side effects? Does your throat hurt? Stomach? Tell me what’s the matter.”

You know how Sebastian must feel when it comes to people he cares about falling ill. His sister has only made him more paranoid about the severity of sickness and curses, and the concern and fear etched upon his face makes your hardened resolve of keeping the sordid details of your affliction to yourself melt away.

“Don’t laugh…” You warn him, but your voice seems so small and maybe even a little scared that his expression turns even more serious.

“Never.”

“I think… I think something happened to me. A charm…” You’re careful to dance around the word curse, lest Sebastian accidentally blows up the whole entire infirmary due to his emotional state. “I just feel very hot. And, um, I think the only relief would be to—”

You can’t even say it. You can barely even explain it since you don’t really know what’s happening either.

“I’mfeelingverysexuallyfrustratedandIhavenomeansofrelief!”

The two of you know that you’re never going to repeat that phrase ever again, and you’re practically near tears after that little confession.

“Oh.” He says, as if this is nothing more than a simple, casual conversation and not the most humiliating situation ever. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Be-because it’s embarrassing!” Has he really no shame? Who would willingly admit that out loud?

“You know, I’ve heard rumors of some sixth-years trying to pull pranks by spiking the juices with love potions. Just really gimmicky concoctions, truly. Nothing too severe. Hmm… You must have a sensitivity to it, though.” Sebastian’s musings do nothing to bring you reassurance. If anything, it just makes you want to hide. If the universe is truly kind, a sinkhole will emerge from nowhere and swallow you whole. Yes, that sounds lovely right now.

Instead, the universe is sick, because what else could explain Sebastian telling you,

“If it’s relief you need, I’d be happy to help.”

Sebastian is many things to you — a dear friend, a confidant, a literal partner in crime — but none of those things involve him having sex with you, even if the offer only came from some odd sense of duty.

And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He probably feels indebted to you since the fifth-year. Maybe even anxious, too. You could expose him at any given moment, and maybe that’s why he’s been so keen on attaching himself to your side ever since. This is a humiliating predicament to be in, and Sebastian doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell — considering that you don’t even know the names of girls he’s been with before is evidence.

Besides, you’re only feeling incredibly needy for one person. You can accept his offer, but you’re certainly not going to let him know the truth: that only he is the one who can help you.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” His cool hand is now cupping your face, thumb brushing against your cheekbone in an almost gentle manner. Sweet Sebastian is making an appearance, perhaps to try to put you at ease. You like this Sebastian. “Just let me take care of you.”

When the haze of lust clears from your sex-addled mind, the rush of consequences will burden and crush your very conscience.

Fortunatenly enough, consequences are clearly the last thing on your mind.

It would appear that the only thing you can truly focus on is Sebastian and what his idea of ‘taking care of you’ is.

The Sebastian staring greedily at you is an unfamiliar Sebastian. You’ve become accustomed to the many variations of himself: Angry Sebastian, who says the most vile things out of spite and usually misguided anger; Remorseful Sebastian, who is quick to grovel (he’s quite good at groveling, really) and wants nothing more than to be back in your good graces; Happy Sebastian, although there are variations upon this very variation — the trick to seeing whether he’s pseudo-happy or not is all in his smile (the fake one is eerily perfect, the real one is crooked and a rarity). This Sebastian, though…

Hungry.

The word doesn’t quite explain the dark glint in his eyes or the way his hands are almost reverently stroking your body. Your skin felt so, so hot just a few minutes ago — then again, just a few minutes ago, you still had your school jumper and blouse neatly intact. Now, you’re laid practically bare, prey to Sebastian’s more-than predatory gaze.

If the two of you weren’t such great friends, you might have had enough sense to be scared.

The only articles of clothing left to protect your dignity and shield you from his eyes are your skirt (which is already riding up to expose your thighs due to his wandering hands), your white cotton panties, and the matching bra.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, and you want to tell him you’re still feeling embarrassed, but his hands feel surprisingly nice on your skin, and you can’t help but hunger for more. Perhaps the look in his eyes, the one you couldn’t quite find a proper name for, is the same look you’re giving him.

“More.” You whimper out, not caring if you sound selfish or impatient. This is awful. The two of you should put a stop to… To whatever the hell this is! This is a horribly unbecoming, unsavory situation you are in, and if things progress like how you think they are going to (how you want them to), then you’re both dead once all the adults find out. Professor Weasley would probably force the two of you to be wedded within the next day of her finding out, not to mention that the headmaster would probably have the both of your heads on sticks.

But you don’t tell him to stop because your rational thought is slipping, much like your bra. You’re viewing everything almost as if in a trance, almost as if this is happening to someone else and not you. But it is very much you; it’s your nipples hardening after being exposed to the cool air of the infirmary. It’s your bra that Sebastian tosses to the side. He’s licking his lips, eyeing the expanse of skin that has been revealed to him. In ordinary circumstances, you’re certain you would make all attempts to cover yourself up and try to regain some sense of modesty.

In these circumstances, you practically arch your back and mewl out for more, more, more.

More touching. More skin-to-skin contact. More of Sebastian. You want him. All of him. Every part of him. You want his cock ramming into your cunt, you want his hands wrapped around your throat, his mouth spewing out words of filth right into your ear. Most importantly, even though all you can seemingly focus on is having him ravish you, you can’t help but to be greedy and dare to hunger for more. You want his secrets — all of them. You want to know the nightmares that plague him, and whether he’s full of regrets, just like you. You want to have a claim to his soul, just like how he already has a claim to yours. You want to know that when his heart beats, it is calling out for you.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He announces, like he’s waiting for you to protest. He’s not directly asking, but the question is still there, as is the warning. Can I kiss you? If you let me, there’s no going back.

“Please.” You whimper, completely and entirely at his mercy.

“Say it.” Sebastian swallows hard, almost as if he’s also nervous and too charged up with desire. His fingers are loosening his tie. He has already shrugged off his robes.

He doesn’t tell you want to say, but you already know what he wants to hear. The words have been resting on the tip of your tongue this whole entire time, anyway.

“I want you to— to kiss me, and more…” You look into his eyes. The lights in the infirmary make them appear a lighter color than usual. “I want more. I want you, Sebastian.”

The moment the last confession slips from your soft lips, Sebastian’s mouth descends upon your own. His body is angled awkwardly, trying not to crush you with his weight, but you can feel the heat emanating from him all the same, even despite the layers of his clothing that separates the two of you.

You think the world stops spinning when his lips slot against yours. He tastes like the pumpkin juice from this morning, sweet and refreshing. There’s a lingering taste of spearmint toothpaste. You want to keep kissing him forever. You want him to kiss you everywhere else. When breathing becomes a necessary thing, he stops. You frown. You didn’t want him to stop. Oxygen is overrated, anyway.

He lays a hand against the pillow you’re resting on, staring down at you, want clearly displayed on his visage; desire is etched onto every facial feature, and his eyes are gazing so intently into yours, you wonder if he’s a Legilimens.

“Promise me you won’t regret this. Swear that you truly do want this.”

He must not be a Legilimens, then. It’s so clear you’ve been in… It feels odd to admit it. Wrong, even. But it’s the truth—

—you’ve been in love with him since the fifth year.

You don’t keep someone’s secrets, their crimes, to yourself when you don’t love them. You let him perform Cruciatus on you, and you forgave him. No — you didn’t. Because you asked him to. There was nothing to forgive. You would endure it, over and over and over again, just for him, only him. And to think, you’re flooding your panties just at some simple fantasies of him, and he has the nerve to believe you don’t want this? Don’t want him?

“I promise. I swear it to you. I want this entirely.” And maybe liquid courage had been slipped into the juice you’ve consumed as well because you find yourself admitting, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you. If it… If it had to be done the first time around, I would always dream of you doing it to me.”

He stops breathing, just for a moment. Gapes at you, even.

“Y-you’re a virgin?”

You wonder if you’ve gone off and ruined the mood. You wonder if you should take it back, say you were just joking, but before you can, his lips are pressing against yours once again. This kiss is even hungrier than the last, and you’re not quite sure how that’s even possible. It’s almost as if he wants to devour you whole.

“Thank you.” He gasps out, so close to you that his breath tickles your nose. “Thank you for entrusting me with this, love. I promise I’ll make it good for you, just as you deserve.”

And suddenly Sebastian is just everywhere. His sweater is discarded on the floor, right next to your bra and his tie. His belt is unclasped; he hasn’t even bothered to remove it entirely, just displaced it enough to where he can unbutton his trousers, and he’s pulling it down — his pants, that is. And the briefs. He hasn’t entirely disposed of everything, just partially. Meticulous Sebastian Sallow who is now so far gone into lust and depravity that he cannot even handle wasting another second by removing himself entirely of his clothes. You have made a man into a beast.

But you see the way he’s eyeing you — all dark hair and sharp teeth. He flips your skirt up, exposing your damp panties to him, and he licks his lips again, and you realize — perhaps too late, or perhaps you’ve known all this time — that Sebastian has always been a bit of a beast. A wolf only coyly imitating domesticity.

“You’re so wet.” He brushes a finger against your cotton-covered folds, and you shiver.

Yes! Your body seems to cry out. More, more, more! Your back arches, keening, craving his touch. You’re soaking through the fabric, making it practically translucent. You’ve never been this wet before in your life. You’ve never wanted his touch more badly than you do now.

“For me.” He mutters, but in the silence of the infirmary, you hear him all too clearly. “Is this all for me, love? Have you been like this all day?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to form coherent sentences. Even if he’s not staring at your head, far too fixated at what’s between your legs, he hums his approval.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll make it all better.”

He’s kissing you. He’s got your panties only pulled to one side, and you think he’s muttering apologies against your saliva-coated lips. Something that sounds awfully like sorry, so sorry, but I can’t wait, and I don’t think you can, either. You barely catch a glimpse of his cock before you can feel the sharp heat of his length against your inner thigh. You would have thought that there would be some preparation, especially since this will be your first, but you’re thoroughly soaked. You’re aching for a sensation you have never felt before, but the animal inside of your brain is telling you, instinctually, to seek Sebastian out. That Sebastian will make it all better. That’s what he said he’ll do, and he’s kissing you, and he’s apologizing, and—

—and the world stops spinning.

No. There’s some slight resistance at first, your poor cunt protesting at the intrusion. A second later, and he’s slipping in half of his length with considerably more ease. A few inches more, and his hips are pressed against yours, and oh— Oh, it’s like you’re made for him. There is no resistance. There is no pain. There’s just you and him, and your body is welcoming him home. Where has he been? It seems to ask. Please don’t ever leave again.

“Fuuuuck.” He hisses it out, and his teeth are gritted, and he’s admiring you. His eyes flicker to your face, down to your breasts, down down down right to where the two of you are connected. The word comes out broken, and yet, drawn out. As if he’s struggling to speak.

Then he starts thrusting, and suddenly you realize that the world hasn’t ceased its spinning. No — now it’s moving entirely too fast. It must be off its axis. You feel otherworldly. You feel like this pleasure, this overwhelming, absolutely delicious pleasure, cannot simply exist on earth. It should be impossible. It should be impossible to find comfort and rapture in the way the tip of his cock seemingly kisses your cervix. You expect pain.

You only find mindnumbing, earth shattering pleasure.

You feel stretched beyond your limits. You hear his pants and his groans, and you’re moaning, too. Calling out his name, which is so silly, he’s right there, he’s right there. There, at that special spot, at the spot you’ve never been able to discover on your own. You now know why adults advise so heavily against these type of relations — it’s simply addicting. You don’t think you can stop; you don’t think you want to stop.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so good f’me. Such a good girl. My good girl, aren’t you?” He’s rambling. His thrusts are considerably sloppier, and you feel his thumb brush against your clit, and you arch your back some more, practically screaming out his name. The stimulation is too much — it’s not enough — and you will always crave him. “Tell me. Tell me that you’re mine.”

There’s something so, so addicting about his possession. About being treated like his possession.

“Yours. M’yours, Seb. All—” You can’t finish your sentence. The pleasure is becoming too much, and you’re too sensitive, and he’s doing this thing, this absolutely amazing thing, where he rubs circles on your clit in tandem with his harsh thrusts, and you’re cumming. You don’t ever want to come down.

He feels you cum, sees your juices drench his cock as he pulls out, only to push right back in, relishing in the feeling of your contracting walls. He leans down, biting on your neck, and you take a hand to grip his dark hair, still cumming, and now he is, too. Spurts of his cum are flooding into you, painting your walls, successfully staking his unrivaled claim on you. You have been compromised. If anyone were to find the two of you out, you would have no other choice but to take his hand, his ring, his family name, him. You would have to take it all.

Coming down from his high, he has enough kindness left in him to lick at the wound he’s left on your neck. Your eyes are fluttering close, the intensity of it all thoroughly exhausting you. You don’t know the thoughts swirling in his mind. You don’t sense the longing behind him stroking your stomach, wondering if the Felix Felicis — his bottled Liquid Luck he’s spent forever brewing — has done its job. It would surely be very lucky, indeed, if his seed takes this first time around.

Your breathing slows, and he feels your heartbeat even out. You’re exhausted, poor thing. Perhaps he had been too rough.

He’ll apologize, he decides, by doing something that’ll benefit the both of you. He ought to clean you up, get you tucked in, and when you wake, he’ll go down on you. He bets you taste so sweet, so innocent. He had known, of course, that he was your first — that he was always going to be your first. Your only.

He wonders if the effects of the lust potion will still linger in your system even after you wake up. Probably so — he did it brew it quite strongly.

But the adoration, the love, in your eyes is something no amount of skilled potioneering can create. No; your feelings for him are real. You just needed to lower your inhibitions to get to the confessional stage.

And now that you have confessed…

Sebastian Sallow can rest well after confirming what he’s known ever since he first laid eyes on you:

You’re his.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #one shot #lemon

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gamermattsgf · 4 months

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Sour diesel // dealer Chris

Warnings: Chris smut / blowjob / male stimulation / throat fuck / usage of drugs / smoking / shotgun kiss / drug dealer!Chris x fem reader / hair pulling / switch Chris / exhibitionism / slapping / slight degradation + begging kink? / Chris + lip pierced

Summary: Chris is the reader’s drug dealer. And a very close drug dealer at that. Close enough for him to want to get high and horny with her when she unexpectedly shows up at his doorstep.

Author’s notes: don’t do drugs kids!! For some strange reason, Chris suspiciously fits this role perfectly irl. I don’t know what it is about him… Maybe it’s just the fact that he constantly looks high, or maybe it’s his hair and clothes… idk. Anyways, yes, proceed to enjoy some good ol’ weed smoking lovin’ ;)

“Legs in the air, all dirty again… smoking some more, I’m in her space… she touches me there, and then I do it again” - Sour diesel, Zayn

Police sirens wail from outside of the busy apartment complex. You knock on the brown door with a brass metal ‘4’ screwed onto the top of it before stepping back and cautiously peering your head down either side of the corridor to check if anyone else is around.

It’s a dreary but bright day, the sun pale with grey clouds flooding the sky. All throughout the city impatient cars honk their horns and the bustle of the crowds is never ending.

The twist of a lock on the other side of the door snaps your eyes back to the peeling front paint. The door creaks open a crack, and the familiar face of the man on the other side peeks out of it sneakily to examine who it is that is at his door, before realising that it’s you and gasping quietly.

He shuts the door quietly once again and you can hear the scratching of the metal chain being slid off of the door hook so that he can open it fully.

Once he does you see him with a white shirt resting on the hooks of his elbows, as if he was half way ready to put it on when you had knocked on the door. His messy dark brown tresses of curls are dishevelled and dust about his forehead in a fluffy nest, like he had just woken up. Equally, his naked, pale chest is on full display before he shoves his head through the t-shirt hole and uses his hands to pull it right down to his hips, where a pair of black sweatpants rest lowly below his hipbones. This only furthers your guess about him napping before seeing you.

‘Ayy! Doll face, come on in pretty!’ He quips in a friendly manner, a toothy grin lighting up his face whilst he steps aside to let you into his apartment. The labret lip ring nestled into the centre of his bottom lip glints with every move his mouth makes in the fluorescent hallway lighting.

You cheerily muse back a quick ‘long time no see Chris… started to miss you’ as you walk past the threshold, unconsciously looking up to one of his hands that grips the door right above his head whilst he leans on the wood.

Chris laughs fondly at your statement, slamming and locking the door shut behind you which encloses the both of you into his dingy apartment with dirty laundry scattered about the floor and the dishes still undone in his kitchen area.

‘Was it me you were missing? Or the drugs?’

Scanning around the apartment more thoroughly this time, you start to notice the little things… like a marijuana crusher, as well as messily stashed small plastic baggies with white powder or pills in them and joint rolling paper scattered across his already busy coffee table.

Chris is your drug dealer.

But… he is also somewhat of a friend as well. To be honest though, this is about as friendly as one can get with their supplier. Chris normally does his deals outside, in sketchy alleyways or at 3am with an all black attire and his hood up all the way.

You are the only customer who knows where he lives, because he’s fond of you, and you’re also a regular, so you often pop by if you’re feeling like it to have a nose into his endeavours and recent transactions.

‘Joint?’

You turn around at the sound of Chris’ question and watch the way he walks over to his old worn out green couch. ‘Yeah of course’ you respond whilst Chris groans as he bends his knees to sit down, quickly getting to work by bending his torso over the coffee table.

‘Got a weed preference? Gelato? Blue dream?’ He asks politely once again over his shoulder at you, because you’re still standing in his open apartment, breathing in the scent of strong narcotics and relaxant drugs. Taking that as a cue to sit down, you round the couch and plop down next to him whilst he slides out a little foot stool from underneath the couch.

You watch his hands flip up the top of the stool to reaveal a secret boxed compartment inside of it. Humming, you purse your lips in thought whilst he opens the compartment’s lid to reveal a bunch of different weed bags, looking at you with raised eyebrows as he waits for you to make a decision.

‘Umm… surprise me’ you land on finally, shrugging and grinning whilst Chris gives you a playful look and a cool nod. ‘Ooo dangerous girl today are we?’ he sniggers, before humming himself and biting his lip whilst his hand rummages around in between the different baggies to pick one out for you two himself.

‘Hmm, this one!’ He finally says, selecting out a small bag with a really dark green hybrid in it. ‘Yeah? How much do I owe you?’ You mention, before stuffing your hand down the front left pocket of your jeans to fish out a couple of bills.

Chris only smacks his lips and bats your hand that is extending money out to him away. ‘Yo- don’t be stupid, this is my treat’ he scolds as he fishes out the drug and weighs it, before putting it into the grinder and working against the plant root.

His arms flex as he twists the grinder to break up the drug into a fine consistency, all the while frowning at you to put your money away. ‘Ugh Chris, you can’t just keep giving me your supplies for free, that’s not how it works… drugs are fucking pricey bud’ you roll your eyes, before stuffing at least a couple of bills into his sweatpant pocket before he could stop you.

He sighs.

‘Ugh fine… but it’s not like you’re my only customer y’know… trust me I have plenty to pay the bills’ he finishes with a cocky tone, before opening up the grinder and swiftly pouring out the mixture into a line on some rolling paper. You silently watch him in awe as he expertly rolls the joint, before licking the side of it with his tongue and twisting it into place like a professional, all in under a minute. You can tell he’s rolled quite a decent bit judging by how easy it is for him.

‘Balcony?’ He questions, raising his eyebrows and pointing to the screen door that leads out onto his small balcony, two deck chairs sitting side by side. You nod happily, and then follow him outside onto the balcony.

‘So, how’s business?’ You ask whilst comfortably seated in one of the deck chairs, watching Chris tentatively as he perches the joint within his lips and wraps his hand around a lighter. Quickly he flicks it into a spark and lights up the joint before relaxing into his own chair and taking it from his mouth.

‘It’s actually been pretty good lately! Got a lot of new shit I can’t wait to try out…’

As he speaks, the smell of potent weed fills the air and a white plume of smoke trickles out from in between his lips. Holy shit this is strong stuff. But of course it is. This is Chris we’re talking about, and he always saves the best stuff for you.

‘Yeah?’

You respond whilst Chris leans over to pass you the sparked joint from in between his fingers, which you take and inhale yourself. He hums in agreement. The smoke coats your throat all the way down and instantly relaxes you whilst the drug stimulates your brain and melts your limbs further into the chair.

‘Oh… by the way- I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to smoke some sour diesel. This specific strain that I have is supposed to make you feel really horny… so just a little heads up in advance’.

Chris guiltily rambles on with a laughed smirk, his thighs manspread out widely and his fingers clasped together on his stomach whilst he waits to receive the joint back. You clench… did he pick that hybrid to smoke with you on purpose? Or were you just kidding yourself. Because the way he was gazing at you currently made you naturally assume that he had unholy intentions.

‘Oh um… yeah that’s fine. I suppose if we both end up high and horny then that’s just how it’s gotta be’.

You shrug and nod jokingly whilst passing back the joint. ‘Shit, awesome, thanks, I can always count on you’ Chris muses excitedly before slipping the joint back into his mouth. Depending on how he moves, the silver lip ring pierced into his lip glints in the dull sunlight as he opens his mouth yet again to do a French inhale with the smoke blowing up towards his nose. I watch as it then calmly dissipates into the air.

‘Wanna shotgun?’ Chris then pipes up, sweetly offering to second hand smoke with you so that you could use more of the joint and not waste any of the valuable drug. Okay this can’t have been a coincidence, first the sour diesel and now offering to shotgun kiss with you? There’s no fucking way.

Nodding nonchalantly, you try to hide your heart flipping dramatically as best as you can whilst both you and him lean forward. Chris passes you the joint so that you get more of the hit than him, and you feed it into your mouth slowly, concealing your jittering hands by harshly pinching the rolling paper.

Leaning forward more, it all happens so fast as you drop your mouth and start to expel the smoke. It’s not needed, but Chris’ hand sneakily snakes around the back of your neck to keep the both of you close and steady as he recieves the second hand smoke. Both of your lips almost brush one another as Chris holds the smoke in his mouth for a moment before giving a quiet moan mixed with a sigh as he blows it back out into your face.

He then giggles cutely after you scrunch up your nose since you’re not expecting the white cloud to make your eyes water. ‘This is good shit’ you sputter, to keep yourself as distracted as possible from your sweating palms and throbbing nerves. You hate to say it, but you have the biggest crush on your drug dealer.

You know, it’s fucking stupid, but he’s just so hot, who fucking wouldn’t have a crush on him? He’s around your age, is attractive, and has impeccable charisma. It’s harder to not have a crush on him. Sometimes you trick yourself into believing that he only lets you come to his apartment to chat and see all of his stash first because the feelings are mutual.

If only you knew how right you actually were.

‘I know right?’ Chris chuckles back, before his deck chair squeaks underneath his lean, muscular body after he puts the joint back into his mouth and this time knocks his head back. You can’t help but get distracted from your surroundings in favour of looking at his sharp jawline and hollowing cheekbones whilst his neck bends and he expertly blows out a set of three smoke rings into the air above him.

‘How do you do that? It’s so cool!’ You laugh shyly, snuggling down into your sweater because of the chilly breeze that blows by suddenly whilst you cover your mouth with one of your sweater pawed sleeves. Chris gazes over at you with his already sunken eyes, a little half smile curling up one side of his face in proud achievement.

He loves trying to impress you then succeeding.

‘Lots and lots of practice baby cakes, I’ll teach you next time you come around…’

He replies back with one of his plethora of nicknames for you. You could tell straight off of the bat from when you had first met each other that giving people nicknames was sort of his thing, and you thought it was really very sweet.

‘But today…’ he starts, before groaning quietly as he leans back over to you to pass you the joint from his slouched sitting position.

‘We have some good weed to finish off…’

‘I am so fucking high right now’ Chris giggles before snorting, trying to hush his own laughter by slapping his hand against his mouth as his shoulders shake in place.

From the opposite side of his ratty green couch, you lie there simply looking up at the ceiling whilst opening and closing your mouth in stupefied awe.

In the background, the gentle scratch of SZA’s ctrl album hums quietly through the vinyl that he had put on his record player earlier after coming in from smoking on his balcony.

‘How much of that weed did we smoke?’ You slur back to him, tilting your head upwards so that you can look over at his tipped up chin and spread thighs. His back lies cosily tucked up on his side of the pillows as he screws up his eyes and sleepily blinks a couple of times.

‘Is it even fuh-fuckin’ working?’ He mumbles to me whilst shifting his heavy feeling arms to rub his hands all the way down his black sweats tantalisingly. ‘Cause all I feel is slightly sweaty… and a little tingly’.

All of a sudden you’re sweating yourself. But it’s not because his apartment is hot, it’s because you’re looking at him and the way he toys with the drawstrings of his sweats absentmindedly. ‘Which isss, which is pretty fuhckin’ normal conssssidering we’ve just smoked-’ Chris hiccups ‘-a fuck bunch of diesel’. Then he giggles again to himself, as if finding it absolutely hilarious that both of you are probably high out of your minds.

‘Uh- umm… dunno if it’s working for me…’ you lie, before desperately trying to retract your eyes from the way he gently tugs on the drawstrings and rolls them in between his fingers and thumbs.

You just hope that Chris can’t hear the way you shuffle your legs closer so that you can squeeze your thighs together secretly. The last thing you want to attract is attention, clearly in denial of the fact that you certainly feel the drug seeping through your nervous system now.

It’s bad enough that you have a crush on him already, now you think some higher being just wants to punish you for it. Something within you is definitely working, because you feel extra horny…

Chris shifts a little, bucking his lower body up with a meek groan coming from his mouth before you hear his hip bone crack. Then he goes still with a content sigh, clearly enjoying the certain blissfulness the drug provides him with.

He seems a lot less bothered than you about this. But you suppose taking drugs is practically what he does for a living, so he’s used to it.

You continue to stare at the roof, lazily trailing your eyes all the way up the various cracks in the ceiling plaster that have resulted because of damp infrastructure, just trying to keep yourself calm for the moment.

But then he starts up his squirming again a little later, and it’s as if he just can’t get comfortable this time because occasionally his socked feet will subtly nudge your’s or you’ll hear him moaning in relaxation every time he moves.

The drug seems to have this god awful effect on your body that simply makes you ache all over. It feels like your inner thighs have a million pins and needles in them.

You know he’s just trying to get comfortable… but within your lack of vision and your current state of heated wetness you can’t help but transform those softly uttered sounds into something a lot dirtier. How unfair of him to sound so much like a porn star.

Meanwhile, Chris is currently going through every stage of horniness that he thinks he could possibly imagine one would experience.

First the small tingling within his gut starts that signals to his brain that his body wants sex. Next comes the unbearably uncomfortable and itchy state his burning skin goes through, whilst disastrously filthy images travel through his mind and hang there like suspended thoughts.

Thoughts like what you, one of his clients… would look like naked. What your tits would look like, whether or not they are a nice shape or not. If you have smaller and sweeter nipples or if you have ones that he can really wrap his tongue around. Whether you prefer to sit commandingly on top and listen to the guy underneath you or flip it and have it the other way around. Are you into threesomes? Because Chris sure is, and he has a friend he can call on speed dial if you ever were to wish it.

Any thought currently floating within his mind always redirects itself back to you lying opposite him with your closed thighs that he so badly wants to pry open himself. He feels as though he has to check himself now. It’s not much of a surprise when he registers the heavy feeling in his lower gut because he knows it all too well. He’s already sensitive and aching.

He’s hard.

But who wouldn’t be if they were thinking about having sex with one of the prettiest girls Chris had ever known, that also just so happens to be someone he dealt drugs to on the side…

The more you listen in to Chris’ annoyingly erotic sounds, the more the darkly temping thought of just saying fuck it and jumping on top of him edges your already infected mind.

Not looking over at him to check what he is actually doing kills you, and soon you just can’t help yourself but take a quick sneak peek at your drug dealer. You have to stifle a gasp though, because when you look you do not quite expect to see what you do.

Lying down right opposite you is Chris in his original position, with his black sweat-pant clad legs spread outwards and his feet planted to the couch cushions whilst his knees are bent upwards lazily. The grey zip up hoodie that he had slipped on earlier slouches open to put his white t-shirt on show whilst his rosy cheeks appear flushed and his face screws itself up in pleasure.

You practically gawk at the way he has his whole entire hand shoved down the expanse of his front waistband.

His pierced lip ring catches in between the bite of his teeth whilst his eyes lie squeezed shut and his legs spread unconsciously further the more his hips buck whilst he fucks his hand.

The hand tucked beneath his sweats, you notice, bulges slowly as he pants through his bitten lip and releases a gut-wrenchingly horny moan with his back arching and his chin tipping unbearably further up into the couch armrest.

The drug clearly seems to be in full swing now, because with every corner your mind turns, the dead end spells out ‘sex’. It seems to be all your body wants in this very moment. You don’t even think you can get up from the couch no matter how hard you try, because Chris is simply right here, wet and ready just for you.

There seems to be no sense of urgency around Chris to get rid of his seemingly prominent boner, in fact, you’ll bet he’s just leisurely strolling his way through the feelings of ecstasy.

‘Chris what are you doing?’ You decide to stupidly bumble in a small voice to catch his attention, but Chris doesn’t seem to care all that much that he’s openly thrusting up into his hand in front of you.

‘Sorry I- I couldn’t help how sensitive I was…’ he finally whines into the air apologetically before his breath hitches and he almost cries out a gulp of air after you see a finger - seemingly his thumb - move up from behind the fabric to rub his tip in slow, circular motions.

He almost begins to shiver whilst his head hopelessly twists from side to side, just to give him some form of distraction from the stimulation he feels.

Never before in your life have you seen a man so sensitive because of his cock before.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to crunch up to a sitting position, your eyes trained on a babyish looking Chris that lies almost in a crumpled heap with his forehead sweating and his pupils blown drastically in size.

He pants and looks directly at you whilst jerking off, making your stomach flip again as he gazes at your body with hungry eyes.

Dripping. You’re actually dripping for him.

Never before in your life have you felt more like a piece of meat that a lion is simply salivating to get his teeth on.

His eyes keep a hold of you for the whole entire time it takes your body to crawl up to his. As you reach him, your own brain begins to fuzz, and you sort of forget where the fuck you are. You loose touch with reality.

Must have been the drug.

All you know is that Chris is here, clearly as horny as you, and in need of your help.

‘Shhhh… shhh… don’t cry baby’ you gently whisper yet another slur to him through your state of heavy intoxication coated with the rings of compulsory sexual desire. God, you had no idea that the diesel increased people’s libidos either, because regularly you’d never have the guts to utter something like that to someone you liked, especially Chris.

Chris slowly stops and he gulps after you drag one of your fingers down his lips, only to tug on his pierced one so that you can watch it recoil back up into its original resting place. Quickly he feeds about half of the lip back into the bite of his teeth whilst gazing up at you with glassy doe-eyed pupils.

‘What’s gotten you so worked up baby boy?’ You coo to him yet again, before smoothing your hands down his waist and his hipbones, which causes him to gently shiver and whine into the back of his throat. He swallows and tries to speak. But he can’t, because instead he has to squeeze his eyes shut and careen his body forward in pleasure after he tightens his hand just that little bit more around his hot, stiffened skin.

The feeling is unmatched and spit almost comes freely tumbling out from his open mouth due to gravity. His shoulders heave, and you pet his hair gently whilst sitting on your haunches and pressing one of your heels up into your heat to suppress your unbearable wetness. You pout before clearing the floppy hair from out of his eyes and asking him if you can get rid of his pants because ‘it must be awfully tough to move around in them hey?’.

So you gently slide them down his haired thighs after he struggles a ‘please… fucking please- I can barely take it anymore’, before also deciding to hook your fingers into his boxers to take them off too.

He is thicker than he is longer, but still has decent size. He’s also obviously damp and sticky from where his hand has been holding him because his pretty-looking cock glimmered slightly in the white light protruding from his ceiling fan. Pre-come readily drips out from the top of his aching prick, and leaks its way down the rest of his shaft.

Chris only looks up at you with a sloppy smirk, before reaching out one of his hands to squish them against your cheeks and guide your eyes to look up at his own.

‘Stop your drooling doll face and eyes up here… just you wait ma, as soon as you get your mouth on me I am going to be moaning your name for weeks after this one…’

You feel like almost fainting on the spot as your head aches and your core throbs with damp heat. You feel like you can’t even speak anymore, because all of your words have been sucked from your mouth. Sitting in between his spread thighs, his back props itself up against the arm of the couch whilst you can’t help but look down at his once again.

‘You wouldn’t believe how sensitive I get… and I fucking love it, I could be squealing the whole entire apartment block down and I still wouldn’t give a shit because of how fucking good it feels’. Chris rasps from his position below you, still hot and still sweaty from the affect of the drug but 100% ready to get his hands all over you.

Both of your hands are layered on each of his thighs and without warning, you squeeze them. This makes him hiss slightly in stimulated pain, but it also gives him pleasure because he smirks through it all. ‘Go on… put your tongue on me… I know you want to…’ he taunts in a low whisper, like Adam tempting Eve with an apple and playing with her biggest weaknesses.

Your heart beats down at your clit easily through the influence of the drug, and you don’t hesitate, not after Chris mumbles ‘I know you like it… and I know you wanna know what it feels like when I hit the back of your throat’.

Your mouth waters at the huskiness of his whisper and you swallow, looking up at Chris with devilishly hooded eyes that Aphrodite gifts you, especially for a task like this.

‘I dare you…’

You don’t give him much time to say anything else, because you’re eagerly spitting a thick string of saliva right onto his cock instead. You watch as it slips all the way down the base of his thickness slowly whilst you hear Chris pant deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his eyelashes feathering dreamily at the sensation of your spit mingling with his pre-come.

His large hands grab onto any part of the couch they can find and hold onto it for dear life after he stutters a whiny little ‘Oh- oh god…’ with his breath hitching and his stomach convulsing under the sensation of your tongue. You sit on your knees properly, your hands caressing his thighs as you drop your head right down so that you can nuzzle against his throbbing nerve.

As you get closer you spy a thick blue vein on the underside of his dick and try to remember where it is for later stimulation. But for now you simply look up at him with your own little smirk decorating your face whilst he gazes down at you, looking helpless and needy. Puckering your lips, you decide to tease him a little by placing pathetic, minuscule kisses up on his wet tip, before nudging it with your nose. Chris whines a little in annoyance at this with his back arching babyishly as though he’s about to throw a temper tantrum.

‘What a pretty little boy’ you muse generously, before whispering ‘you’d hit my g-spot easily baby…’ up to him, which has his hips bucking uncontrollably into the air. Although, one of your hands comes down to slap his thigh at this.

‘Hey! Don’t be naughty now… you’ll get my tongue in a minute… let me have a look at you first’ you scold him harshly, now holding down both of his hips before you peek out your tongue to give him a short kitten lick. You can tell he wants to thrust up into your mouth so badly based off of the resistance your hands face, however, you don’t let him just yet.

‘You let me have my fun, and then you can have your fun, Chris’ you bark at him which seems to put his filthy mouth in place.

Leaning back up again on your haunches, you now decide to spit into your hand and wrap it around his pulsating cock. You can tell Chris isn’t expecting this due to the way he cries out into the air slightly before you start to slowly stroke him. You feel some form of heart beat throbbing underneath his thickness whilst your hand works against him. You make your hand tight and slow to allow him enough sensual pleasure whilst not going too fast so that you can also savour the moment.

Whilst keeping your hand going, you manage to get onto your hands and knees so that you can lean up closer to his face and really look at how he squirms about helplessly below you.

‘Gotta get you ready for my mouth, don’t I?’ You innocently speak down to him, but Chris only tips his head back in return to hit it against the armrest and squeeze his eyes shut. His panting breaths are raggedy and laboured whilst he tries to focus on his breathing above all else, but he can’t help but feel slightly tortured under the influence of your palm.

‘Fuck- fucking lick me… please gorgeous… I- I need you so bad’ his voice reduces to pathetic begs as he finds the time to now viciously twist your shirt in between his knuckles and yank at it like a pouty child. You roll your eyes and tighten your hand, mumbling a quick ‘needy boy aren’t you?’ Before finally giving in to his agonising cries.

You lower yourself back down with Chris putting a somewhat happy smile onto his face through the pained pleasure after getting you to crack and give him what he wants.

This time, you don’t beat around the bush. If Chris wants it he can fucking have it for all you care. Letting go of his cock, you substitute your hand for your tongue and lick a bold stripe all the way from the base to the tip.

‘Jesus Christ…’ he whines in overstimulation, only the torture doesn’t stop there, because he has to repeat himself louder when you quickly slide his tip into you mouth, briefly lollipopping it and coating it with more of your saliva before you slide it back out with a wet ‘pop’.

‘Ugh… more… please- please give me more!’ Chris moans impatiently, whining like a fucking spoilt brat as he finally makes a decision to tangle his hands within your hair and keep them there so that he can pull on your strands whenever he feels like it. His cheeks are a furious red, and even his brow is sweating whilst he looks down towards your kneeling figure.

You roll your eyes with a glare, and he shies away at this, averting his eyes so that you won’t shout at him or slap his thigh again.

Going back to your work, your tongue playfully slips out once so that you can roll it over his tip. This seems to give Chris a wild rush of euphoria because of the way he’s cursing and groaning.

Jesus… he wasn’t kidding when he said he liked to squeal his whole apartment block down.

You smirk.

But your eyes also water because of how harshly Chris is clawing at your hair.

So you decide to give him a fright and deep throat him.

It works, because as soon as you slide him down your throat he moans into the air once again, his back arching and his hips instinctively bucking up, which makes saliva drip from out of your mouth and down the rest of his glistening cock after you gag slightly.

As Chris’ thickness stretches out your mouth you do indeed feel the tip of his cock rub against the back of your throat when you start to bob your head.

Chris - clearly - has no problem with helping at all and decides to use his grip on your hair to greedily push your head at his own pace, which - you’re not going to lie - is extremely hot, but also pisses you off.

‘Fuck you’re so good at this’ he mumbles within a daze of erotic edging, his orgasm easily bubbling along the lining of his gut from how well you’re sucking him, but you don’t quite let him cum just yet because you want to try something…

Slipping him back out of your mouth, you grab a hold of his utterly soaked cock before jerking him slowly once again, this time pressing your thumb right into the bulge of his vein, which makes his eyes flutter and roll into the back of his head.

‘I want you to fuck my mouth baby…’

You breathe lustfully, staring at him with sparkling eyes as your core squeezes in excitement.

‘I want you to absolutely choke me…’

You beg to him once again, which catches Chris’ attention.

He’s greedy for his orgasm, and so complies immediately with a panting smirk.

‘…Get back down there then’ he muses cheekily, his straightened teeth on show before he forces your head down there himself. Your nose nudges against his pulsing cock for one last time before you slide him back into your mouth and this time, let him do the work.

His chest and stomach rise and fall rapidly whilst he manoeuvres one of his hands to now grip the centre of your hair whilst his other one finds its way to the couch cushion so that he can prop himself up.

Slowly, he barely gives you any time to adjust before he is fucking his hips upwards, pushing himself further down your throat every time he pulls away and comes back again. You gag once more, but don’t put up much of a fight because you instead love to hear his groans of sheer effort that turn into something carnally primal the more he does it.

Suddenly he gets louder, and you actually feel him twitch within your mouth, hinting to you that his orgasm is coming thick and fast.

‘I’m- I’m gonna c-cum’ he incoherently whines with his neck thrown back once again as it struggles to bring his voice up into the air.

Tears roll down your cheeks, but you ignore them in favour of allowing Chris to finish into your mouth. Sliding his cock up towards the opening of your lips slightly, it gives you enough room to wrap your hand around the base of his prick so that you can help him cum. Whilst he does, you continuously stroke him as he cries and white knuckles the couch cushion seat. His cum spurts out in hot, thick ropes and drips all down your throat.

After you let Chris go, you make him watch you swallow all of what he gave you.

He slouches onto the sofa with exhaustion, breathing heavily with his shoulders rising and falling dramatically.

Both of you are silent for a second, panting and looking at one another as if your brains are deciding to voice aloud what they’re both thinking.

Chris makes the first move.

‘Umm… are you- are you still as horny as me? Even after… that?’. His voice is timid, as if testing the waters between a make or break point. However, you still feel an absolute wave of arousal batter against your clit, and so nod in confusion.

Chris only laughs in disbelief whilst rubbing his forehead.

‘Shit that is strong stuff…’

Author’s notes p.2: wow. Well umm… that was long. I always get WAY too carried away with my writing lmaoo. Can someone please tell me why I literally made a fucking Spotify playlist dedicated to exactly this piece of writing?? (Who wants on it? 😏). Also, I took the liberty of giving Chris a labret lip piercing in this one because HOT, and idk, I just think it suited his vibe- but yes, obvi he doesn’t have one irl so everyone can just pretend 🙄. This piece of writing is dedicated to @ellie-luvsfics bc she’s ‘a slut for drug dealer Chris’. And @strniohoeee bc she’s my bbg <3 hope people enjoyed, and as always send any requests and whatnot!!!

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolos

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 9 months

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i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.

theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging

#qin shi huangs terracotta army #warring states #qin dynasty #thinking about Her...<3 bronze tools and pottery shards <3 #my writing

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authorhjk1 · 6 months

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Interlude: Above the sky

IU X Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader

You sigh as you sit in one of the chairs at the airport.

It has been a while, since you last flew with a commercial airplane. You are headed to Italy. There is an urgent meeting, involving everyone, who is important at the Diesel company. You can proudly say that you are one of them. Unfortunately though, your jet is currently being repaired and refurbished.

Waiting for the call to board the plane, you occasionally glance at the incoming passengers, while working on your laptop.

When you suddenly hear the sounds of cameras flashing and cheers, you turn around in your seat. Two women, who are being swarmed by reporters walk towards your gate.

Great. More noise. You sigh as you realize you won't be able to keep working. Luckily, boarding time starts soon.

As the women slowly get closer, you see that one of them is wearing a fancy looking suit outfit and one is wearing a simple black dress. The large bow in the second woman's hair makes her look cute. And smaller than she actually is. Because in that moment, you realize who is walking in your direction.

IU. The woman you and Miyeon had.... fun with. You wonder if she still remembers you. Not being able to identify the other woman, you are glad you are now able to board the plane.

You don't think IU saw you as you walk towards the door.

At the door the captain and the crew welcome you. Being the owner of the airline you are flying with is somewhat beneficial. Although you tried to hide it as much as possible. You usually don't like too much attention, especially when you are busy or on your way to a meeting.

Sitting down in first class, you enjoy the comfort of the chair. The blue interior matches the plane's exterior as you look around. This is somewhat your airplane after all.

It takes only a couple of minutes, before you aren't the only one in first class anymore. People start to take their seats, while you take the laptop out of your bag.

Sitting in the middle seat, you don't believe your eyes, when you see the two women sit down on your right. IU on the left, the other on the right. You could've sworn you saw her somewhere before. Guessing from the way she looks, she must be an idol as well. You see her smile. It's probably one of the cutest things you have ever seen.

Wanting to tease the older woman, you lean through the small aisle towards her.

"Can I get an autograph?"

You can't hide a teasing grin as she turns around. Her eyes widen when she seems to recognize you.

"Surprise."

"What-"

She stops, her mouth open.

"Is he a friend?"

The girl's voice sounds as cute as she looks.

"Kind of. Nice to meet you, (y/n)."

You reach around IU to shake her hand.

"Minatozaki Sana. It's a pleasure."

You watch IU looking at Sana's hand in yours, before you pull away. Not without your hand grazing against her chest. No one would notice except her. You see her look down, biting her lip.

You remember how needy she was last time, although it partially might have been the alcohol.

"How do the two of you know each other?"

IU's eyes grow wide as she hears Sana's question. For an actress, she isn't very good at hiding her surprise.

"Well.... We..."

"She was attending the opening of my restaurant."

"Oh really? Which one?"

"It's in Paris. I doubt you know it."

Sana seems to be thinking hard.

"Ah. The one Lisa went to?"

You nod.

"Exactly. I'm happy that you seem to know it."

"Of course I do. I heard the food is very delicious there."

While she gives you an adorable smile, you realize that IU is still not talking. Although her hand is resting on her naked knee, playing with the hem of her dress.

"If you are ever in Paris, I hope you will stop by."

"I will give you an awesome review."

Sana gives you a thumbs up.

"What did you eat there, unnie?"

"Hmmm? What?"

IU looks like she got caught. You expected her to be more cool about this, but it looks like she is unable to clear her mind of the things you did.

"I don't remember."

She now looks at you. Her dark eyes locked onto yours.

"But I know it was delicious."

That switch of attitude makes you silently raise an eye brow at her. How did she just got from shy and scared to hot and suggestive?

A sly smirk plays around her lips. Maybe she is a better actress than you thought.

Once the plane is in the air, you get rid of your seatbelt. The tight fabric made the situation in your pants slightly worse. IU keeps glancing at you. Sometimes a naughty smile on her face, sometimes her fingers lift up her dress. Her full thighs distract you from working.

You are glad that barely any people seem to be sitting in first class. Except for you three, there is only one man two rows ahead and an older couple maybe three rows behind you. Is it always that empty in first class?

You really do try your best to keep working, but as soon as Ji-eun stands up, you throw all caution out the window. The dress she is wearing seemed quite long. That's why you are surprised, when she reaches up to take something out of her luggage.

The black fabric rides up her body, until her lower half is almost completely exposed. Standing on her tip toes, Ji-eun shows off her ass to you. Her black thong leaves her cheeks exposed, only barely covering her pussy. You catch glimps of her lips. Remembering the last time you saw her naked pussy, you have to hold back to not just reach for it.

When she is about to sit down, Sana stands up too.

"I need to use the bathroom real quick."

She steps past the older woman, before walking down the small aisle.

Ji-eun watches her leave. You already expected something once the two of you would be alone, but not this. As soon as IU is sure no one is looking, she straddles your lap.

"I can't help it. Your cock felt so good."

Her breathless words still linger in your ear as she latches her lips onto your neck. While showering your skin with kisses, IU slowly grinds on top of you.

"Darn it. Do you know how often I got myself off thinking about that night?"

Her hands move towards your belt.

"What are you doing?"

You are finally able to talk, a little overwhelmed from the older woman's attack.

"What do you mean? You don't wanna fuck?"

"Shhh."

You shush her, afraid someone heard her.

"Here? Are you crazy?"

She just shrugs her shoulders.

"As long as you fill me with cock, I don't care where."

Her lips reattach themselves to your neck. Her hair slightly tickles, while her cute bow is right in front of your face.

You try your best. You really do. But suddenly, you find your hands underneath IU's dress. Feeling the smooth skin on her full thighs, you lean your head back, while she fumbles for your zipper. Her grinding increases as you start to feel her wetness on your leg. Only the thin fabric of your pants and her thong are between the two of you.

IU suddenly stops, looking above your head behind you.

"Shit."

You suspect it's Sana. Expecting, IU to leave, you let go of her thighs. Instead she just drops to her knees. She reaches for the blanket next to you, covering herself and your lap. You feel her warm breath against your clothed crotch as you hear Sana coming from behind.

"Excuse me. Do you know where IU unnie went?"

"I think she left right after you. In the same direction."

"Really? I didn't see her."

Sana flashes you another smile.

"Thank you."

She turns around to look at the direction she came from, before sitting back down in her seat.

You suddenly hear the zipper of your pants being opened. Which is odd, since both of IU's hands are resting on your thighs. Is she doing this with her teeth?

You feel her pull down the zipper, until finally one hand leaves your leg. Her hand undoes the button of your boxers.

If you weren't hard before, you are now as IU fishes out your cock. Her warm hand strokes your length once or twice, before you feel her wet lips wrap around your tip. You have to suppress a groan as her tongue swirls around it. IU starts to take you deeper inside her mouth. Her wet slurps barely louder than a whisper.

You place your hands on the blanket over her head, trying to hide the bulge her head is creating. Ji-eun humms around your cock in response as she keeps sucking you off.

You can't believe this is happening. Your legs start to become jelly as the woman on her knees let's her lips glide to the base of your cock. Her tongue follows, grazing the underside of your shaft.

You glance at Sana, hoping she doesn't see anything. But after looking at her once or twice, it becomes hard to look away. Since Ji-eun swallows your cock underneath the blanket, you somewhat miss the visual stimuli. Luckily, Sana is more than enough.

Since her shorts are barely covering her center, her full thighs are on display. You try to imagine them around your head, squeezing you as you eat her out. It's hard though. It's hard to focus on anything when IU is silently giving you head. You have to lean your head against your chair, trying to compensate the pleasure you are feeling. How is she so good at this?

Glancing at Sana again, you see her lean over her phone. She was typing something on it a couple of moments ago. Now it seems like she is watching a video or something. Her eyes are wide, the screen very close to her face.

When you feel yourself hitting the back of IU's throat, you press her head down. It's a subconscious action as you try to appear normal. You hear her slightly gagging when she is unable to move. Closing your eyes, you feel yourself getting closer to the end.

Ji-eun starts to become louder. You hope no one hears her as you open your eyes again. You are unable to see straight as you look around. Your eyes lock onto Sana's. The woman's head is turned towards you, her lips slightly parted. Her hand with her phone is resting on her lap, while the other tuggs a couple of strands behind her ear. Did she catch you?

Instinctively you press Ji-eun's face further into your lap, hoping Sana didn't see her head bobbing. You hear IU slightly gagging as she tries to breath through her nose while her throat is stuffed with your cock.

Sana gives you a coy smile, before she turns away again. You did catch her stealing a glance at your crotch. Fuck.

That nervous feeling doesn't last long as IU keeps working your shaft. You suddenly come to a realization. What are you going to do next? What happens after Ji-eun is done with you? How is she going to get out of there? There is no way she planing to stay on her knees until the end of her flight. Is she?

You dig your fingers into your armrests. IU keeps slobbering over your dick in almost complete silence, while her hands glide over your pants. In a normal situation you would've started to fuck her face by now. But this isn't normal. This is public. It doesn't get much riskier than that. Getting head as you sit in your seat in your airplane.

The situation worsens when you get a call. You neither have the composure, nor the current mental stability to wonder who it might be. Without even looking at the screen, you pick up.

"Hi, daddy."

You almost groan in disbelief as you recognize her voice. Checking your screen confirms your suspicion.

"Princess #1"

Wonyoung is number two, which means...

"Hi, Miyeon. What is it?"

You try to sound nonchalant, although it is almost impossible. Hearing Miyeon snicker on the other side of the call makes you blush for some reason.

"Who is it?"

"IU."

You half whisper half moan. No reason to lie.

"Well, that's great, but I'm calling because of her fellow traveller."

"What?"

You look to your right at Sana, catching her look away from you.

"She knows who you are."

"How?"

"I might have told her a thing or two about us."

You sigh.

"So?"

"Just go the bathroom in a couple of minutes. She is too shy to ask."

"Miyeon-"

"I hope IU sumbenim is taking great care of you. Her asshole was so tight when I fucked her. Just saying."

You are stunned when you realize that Miyeon hung up on you. Who does she think she is? Talking about you with Sana and then telling you to follow her friend to the bathroom? You don't need to be bright to figure out why.

You turn your head as you see Sana standing up. As she walks past you, she let's her hand glide along your arm. You look after her as she walks back towards the bathroom. She took off her jacket earlier. Her tight shorts hugg her cheeks perfectly as she walks down the aisle.

"Fuck.Ji-eun, stop."

You get the blanket off her.

IU looks up at you. Her black bow is a little tilted, her chin covered in her spit.

She let's your cock fall out of her mouth, before stroking it slowly.

"What?"

"Sana is gone and-"

"Finally."

She gets up and straddles your lap once more.

"Wait."

You hold her by her waist, before she is able to keep moving.

"Miyeon just called. She wanted me to follow Sana into the bathroom."

"Oh."

Ji-eun is visibly disappointed.

"I'm gonna go now."

She shakes her head.

"We need to finish what we started. I haven't had sex since the night in Paris. Please."

"Get off me. We will continue this after we land."

IU glares at you.

"Why? Just because she is younger than me?"

"No-"

"Fine. Go."

She gets off you, sitting down in her own seat. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. Her lips forming a cute pout.

"Ji-eun-"

She looks up at you. Her stare shuts you up.

"I will be in Venice for four days. I expect you to make it up to me during every single second I don't have a schedule."

You nod before following after Sana. Your meeting is today, after you land. Afterwards you should have enough time for IU.

Reaching the restroom, you look around, but no one seems to care about your presence. Seeing it being unlocked, you slip inside.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you feel Sana crashing into you. Her lips attack yours, while she grinds her body against you.

"Sana, what..."

She takes a step back.

"If you are only half as good as Miyeon said...."

She trails off, before reaching for you once again. This time, you hold her waist, holding her close, while Sana invades your mouth.

And Miyeon said she was shy?

The Japanese girl, you guessed because of her name, sneaks her arms around you while she deepens the kiss. Your hands start to explore her body. You notice how slim her waist is. How smooth the skin under her shirt and how full her thighs are. Reaching behind her, you place your palms on her cheeks.

"God yes."

She sighs as you squeeze them respectively.

"I need you."

Her lips find your neck, just like IU's earlier.

"Mina played with me without making me cum."

Her breathless words make you feel goosebumps as she whispers against your neck. Who is Mina? Her bandmate?

"She started it minutes before I had to leave."

Sana kisses down your neck, slowly reaching your collarbone.

"Do you know what that does to a girl? Almost cuming and then having to wait for hours?"

You feel the Japanese girl's hands leave your neck as she reaches for your pants.

"I don't even care how you fuck me by now. Just do it. I need to cum."

While still having questions about Mina and still not sure how you got here exactly, you spring into action. If there is something, besides doing business, you are good at than it's sex. At least that's what you think. Why would you sleep with so many idols otherwise?

You hold Sana's cheeks more firmly, before lifting her off the ground. She is just as light as the others. She has gotten rid of your zipper by now and is working on the button of your boxers, which you just closed barely a minute ago.

"Take me. Take me how you want. I just need something in me."

Her breathless whisper makes you step forward, sitting her down on the edge of the sink. While you capture her lips with yours, you unbuckle her belt.

Sana moans into your mouth as you pull her shorts off her. Her pink panties already damp with arousal.

Wanting to make this quick, you just slide them aside, revealing Sana's snatch. It's a mouthwatering sight. For some reason it looks smaller than you expected.

You let you hands dance along her lower lips as it's now your turn to kiss her neck. Sana let's her head fall back, moaning in delight at your touch. For a second you wonder if you should finger her to orgasm first, but you decide against it. You want to make this quick. And you would rather have Sana cum on your cock than your fingers.

"Put it in, please."

As if on cue, Sana starts to whine.

"I'm already soaked thinking about you. Just give me that cock Miyeon always talks about."

You pull out your cock through the holes in your pants and boxers.

"That's huge."

Sana looks down in shock.

"But why is it wet?"

You don't answer. Instead you align it with her pussy. Pushing past her lips makes Sana almost fall backwards into the sink. You have to hold her firmly as her back arches. You are almost afraid she is gonna break it.

"That's fucking big."

She hisses as if she is in pain.

"I'm used to smaller toys."

You wait for her, letting her take a couple of deep breaths.

Once Sana finally adjusted to the feeling of her hole being stretched like never before, she sits back up, locking her hands behind your neck.

"Carry me. Impale me on your dick."

It's a combination of command and plea as Sana's eyes seem darker than before. Although that could be due to the dim light.

You slowly pick her up and lift her off the sink. Gravity doing it's work, slowly makes Sana glide down to your base. You see her eyes roll to the back of her head. She holds harder onto your neck with every inch she is taking.

"Oh god."

Sana sighs once you finally bottom out inside of her. It took a couple of moments, but you are more than glad it took this long. Sana's pussy is tight. Her walls grip onto you, clearly not wanting you to ever leave. For some reason, Sana's pussy feels a little similar to Rei's. Is that a coincidence? Or because they are both Japanese? You almost laugh at that thought. That's impossible.

Either way, you start to lift up Sana until only your tip is inside of her. You make her glide down along your length. Up and down. Up and down.

Before you know it, you are already truly fucking Sana inside the restroom. Her moans are muffled by your shirt, which she is biting into. Or rather your shoulder. The pain is small enough to blend out. Her moans increase in volume and numbers. They become higher and more needy.

With a strong grip on her ass cheeks, you keep moving Sana. Her body barely moving on its own, her pussy only a fleshlight for your cock.

"More. More please."

Sana let's go of your shoulder for just a moment. You keep fucking her, hoping that no one can hear her moan. Her walls start to tighten around you even further.

"Gonna cum!"

She let's out a mewl into your shoulder as she clings to you like a panda. You keep moving her up and down. Relentlessly impaling her on your cock.

"Oh god!"

Sana finally cums on your dick. Her walls squeeze you, trying to make you cum as well. Her body shakes a little, making you hold her a little tighter. The pink panties she is wearing are now soaking wet. Her hair is a mess.

"That was so good."

She is still breathing heavily, but finally stopped biting you.

"Let's go."

You start to put Sana down.

It's a difficult decision to pull out of the Japanese's snug pussy, but you could get caught any second.

"But-"

"You can do that in our seats."

"What about IU?"

"Why do you think my cock was already wet?"

Sana's mouth opens in a wide O in realization.

"That slut."

Sana giggles as she slowly starts to get her pants on. You close your zipper and open the door.

Only a couple of seconds later, you are back in your seat. But not alone. You are glad that the space in first class is so big.

"You taste so good, Sana."

IU complements her as she swallows your cock. It took no convincing at all to make IU drop to her knees in front of your seat. Sana is kneeling next to her, admiring her work.

IU's bow is bobbing up and down in rhythm with her head. One of her hands is wrapped around your base, while the other rests on your left thigh. Sana occupies your other as she leans on it, watching the older woman.

With a cute, naughty smile she shifts her gaze from IU to you.

"I hope we can do this for the rest of our stay in Venice."

Ji-eun looks up at you, her lips still wrapped around your cock. She is reminding you of the deal you two made, before you left to fuck Sana.

Without a warning, Ji-eun starts to deep throat you once again. You suddenly hit the back of her throat. This time, she doesn't silence herself. The gagging noises are probably loud enough for the other three passengers to hear.

She holds her head in place for what feel like forever. You hold onto your armrests, hoping to hold out just a little longer.

"Unnie, I want to make him cum."

Sana watches your spit covered cock fall out of Ji-eun's mouth. Her hand still holding your base, the older woman slightly points your cock in Sana's direction.

The Japanese girl sticks her tongue out. She slowly swirls it around the tip of your cock, not breaking eye contact. Her dark eyes look deeper than ever before.

She adds a hand as well. Her right is joining IU's, both of their hands cover around two thirds of your cock. Sana wraps her lips around your tip, hollowing her cheeks. Her tongue keeps swirling , while she slowly sucks you off.

It is completely different from most of the girls so far. While the others usually do this quickly with desperate need for you to finish, Sana takes her time. As if she is convincing your cock to cum on its own.

You groan as you feel the effects first hand. Shifting around in your seat, you know it's only a matter of seconds.

"Look at him. Struggling to hold it in."

IU chuckles before licking her lips.

"I can't wait to make him cum for four whole days."

Sana's mouth, both of their hands, IU's eyes, her words. It all proves too much. With one last groan, you feel yourself twitching against Sana's tongue.

A second before you explode, she pulls away. You are barely able to watch as you cum all over both of their hands. I leaks down in small streams. It coats their fingers and their wrists.

As soon as you come back down, Sana dives in for her first taste. With her daring tongue, she starts with IU's hand, slowly pulling her tongue across the older girl's fingers.

"Delicious."

She licks her lips, before turning towards IU. Since Sana must have scooped up a good amount of cum, you are in awe as you watch the two exchanging a messy kiss. You see a small string, a mix of saliva and your cum, hang from both of their chins as they keep making out.

This is gonna be a long four day trip.

And quite possibly a long flight.

__________

Hi everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this one.

Tomorrow the December special polls will be posted. If you don't know what that is, you don't know how to vote, or you want to find out what chapters you can vote for, it's all here.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #lee jieun #twice #sana #sana minatozaki

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

Text

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 months

Text

Neighbors 🩵 Lovers

Part Three

“Erik! Don’t do it!”

Fae tried to calm him down. Her tears flooded her vision. Cordell stood there with his hands up and a frightened look in his eyes. Erik was in full rage mode. It was understandable, Cordell was really asking for it.

“Erik, listen to me, put the gun down.”

Fae placed one hand on his arm tenderly. Her eyes were pleading with him to put the gun down. He took one look at Fae and then his eyes were back on Cordell molten hot. He lowers his P365 slowly, eyes unblinking.

Thump!

Fae watched with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open in shock…

Two Weeks Earlier:

Fae McAdams finally did something unlike herself and she was still trying to wrap her head around what happened. Last night felt like something out of a movie. She cheated back with her handsome neighbor. Fae rolled over beneath his sheets, opening her eyes a fraction. She blinked twice and rubbed her eyes. Opening her lids fully, she noticed Erik’s side of the bed was empty. Her hand reached out to caress the sheets. A content smile decorated her beautiful face.

She sat up on her elbows while lying on her belly and looked around in wonder. The sheets were pooled around her waist and the slight breeze tickled her naked spine. Fae couldn’t stop smiling. She buried her face into a pillow and squealed like a teenager. Her mind replayed scenes from last night and she couldn’t contain herself.

Fae never had sex that good. Sure, sex with Cordell was great, but Erik had a certain je ne sais quoi. She couldn’t put into words what made her experience with him the best experience she’d ever had. Maybe it’s the way he carried himself. Erik was not one to brag. He has confidence, but he didn’t need to make that known every second. He commanded attention with just a look, his voice and gait.

Maybe it was the mystery of it all. She’d never been with a man like that. A man who actually did what he said he was gonna do. A strong silent type. Fae couldn’t stop her mind from replaying images of Erik’s body…his dick…his stroke game…his words…she was hooked from one dick-down. He had her cumming back-to-back. He had her calling him daddy. He had her begging for more when she was too exhausted to go for round two.

Speaking of exhaustion, Fae tried sitting up in bed and the muscles in her arms and back struggled to hold up her weight. She groaned in pain when she pushed herself off of the bed to stand on two feet. The way her legs trembled, you would think she’d been bed-ridden her entire life. He worked out muscles in her body Fae didn’t know she had.

“Wiggle your big toe.”

Fae referenced Kill Bill in a jokingly manner while she wiggled her acrylic fench-tips toes. Fae took her time walking to the bathroom to relieve herself. She flicked on the light in his master bathroom and spotted the toilet next to his corner standing shower. After she used the restroom, Fae decided to take a shower. She pulled the hair tie from her wrist and put her hair up into a bun.

She stepped inside of his shower and turned on the water. She stood beneath the hot water, looking at Erik’s catalog of soaps and body wash. She used his exfoliating gloves and washed with an unscented soap on her private areas and peppermint Doctor Bronners on the rest of her body. After showering, she towel dried and washed her face with some of his Cerave facial cleanser.

After using some shea butter, she put on her clothes, grabbed her things and walked out into the main area. As she searched, she peeked into his office.

Fae’s eyes scanned the room, and that’s when she noticed Diesel resting on his little bed. He looked up at Fae and he ran up to her with his tail wagging and tongue out. Fae crouched down to rub him and accepted his licks to her face. She wasn’t quite sure where Erik went and she didn’t actually have his number.

Fae sent him a DM saying that she had to leave unfortunately. She really didn’t want to. She was afraid of what she might do when she sees Cordell. Her entire demeanor changed from happy to sad in a matter of seconds from thinking about her cheating boyfriend. Her body shook with nerves as she walked out towards the living room. While she checked her phone, not once did she receive any calls or texts from him wondering where she was and if she were safe. He could have at least had the decency to check in on her but no, he was too busy fucking some other bitch in her home!

Fae opened Erik’s door while Diesel stood close behind her. She tried to get him to stay back so she could sneak out. She was about to make a swift exit when her apartment door opened and a woman; tall, Latina, long jet black hair, and a scandalous outfit on stepped into the hall. Fae rushed to crack the door and she spied on both of them. Cordell grabbed the girl by the chin and kissed her. The Latina dragged her long, red acrylics down Cordell’s naked torso and gripped his dick through his black sweats.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday, Miss Rio. Make sure you wear that sexy little pencil skirt for me so I can have better access.”

Fae almost lost it. She squeezed Erik’s door knob so tight she could have ripped it out. The nerve of this bum. So, he’s fucking a co-worker?! Typical shit. She looks like a cheap hoe. Fae was furious. How had she missed the signs? After school meetings? More like after school sessions with Miss. Rio. Is he even an assistant basketball coach? Fae watched with hurt eyes. Cordell palmed the girl’s ass and slapped it before grabbing her hand to kiss.

“You free tonight? I don’t think I can wait until Monday.”

Miss. Rio giggled, “I am. I have to do a little bit of laundry but that’s it. You wanna link again? You sure your woman won’t be around?”

“If she ain’t then we can chill. Please?”

Miss. Rio has this nigga begging to see her again. The way that felt like a stab to the heart. He couldn’t even make time to celebrate her promotion. He thought a fake bag and a fucking hibachi dinner was enough to make up for it.

“Well, since you put it that way, papi, I’ll see you tonight”

“I love you. I’ll call you later, okay? I’ll let you know about the party my mom is having.”

What?!!!

“Love you too. I’ll miss you, papi. Don’t forget to call me. I’ll be waiting.”

Fae cracked the door more when the other woman finally walked away. Cordell went back inside of their shared apartment. Fae shut the door and turned around, pressing her back against it and sliding down to her butt. She brought her knees to her chest and cried. Diesel rubbed his head against her arm. Fae looked up with tears streaming from her eyes, rubbing Diesel on his back while weeping softly.

A quick trip to Whole Foods was much needed because Erik’s refrigerator and pantry was on low supply. He did meal-prep often so today was his day to cook all of his meals for the last full week before leaving for work. He entered the building from his car with a mini cart to help bring everything to the thirteenth floor. He checked his phone and noticed a DM from Fae.

She told him that she would be leaving. He was a little bummed about that because he was looking forward to making breakfast for her. So many occurrences crossed his mind of what could go wrong when she goes back to her apartment. He wished that he’d gotten her number but Erik simply messaged her back.

_ES87: Leaving so soon? ☹️ I was going to make you breakfast. I’m worried about you going over there Fae. I’m on my way back up to the apartment. I didn’t want to wake you.

Erik made it to the elevators and before he could even press the button, the doors opened and out walked the other woman.

“Excuse me, good morning,” She gave Erik a friendly smile while trying to fix her hair.

“…Morning.”

It took him a while to reply. He watched her exit the building with her hair all over her head and her skirt turned every which way. Erik rushed onto the elevator, almost dropping his cart. His heart thumped in his chest the more he approached his floor. Did Fae catch her leaving? Did they fight? That elevator was moving too slow.

“Come on…come on…”

His panic set in.

Ding.

The doors opened and Erik rushed off of the elevator. The hall was silent and very still. He walked up to Fae’s door and pressed an ear to the surface of it to see if he could make out anything. He couldn’t hear a sound. Erik walked back to his apartment and rummaged for his keys in his hoodie pocket. He opened the door and as soon as he stepped inside, Fae was sitting on his couch in one of his hoodies and the shorts he gave her to sleep in.

Diesel was curled up on the floor in the living room and he shot up to his paws when he noticed Erik. Erik shut the door with his eyes on Fae while Diesel barked and walked around Erik to get his attention. He could see that Fae had been crying. He left his cart at the door and walked over to Fae. Erik sat next to her and pulled her into his embrace. They didn’t speak a word. She cried, body trembling the more her tears fell.

Erik snapped his fingers at Diesel and pointed to the floor when he caught him sniffing at the grocery bags. Diesel obeyed and looked at Erik expectantly, like he was waiting for another command. Erik continued to stroke Fae’s hair until she finally sat up to wipe her eyes. Fae looked at Erik, her brown eyes puffy and her lashes coated with tears.

“I was going to leave, but I saw them in the hall. He was–was talking to her so–so romantically. I can’t believe he–he told her that he love–loved her.”

“What?”

Erik couldn’t believe it. Fae nodded her head as she weeped.

“They work together. He’s been lying to me and cheating on me with her and whoever else. He never gave a fuck about me. While I poured my heart out to him about how much I’ve been hurt in the past, he turned around and did the same thing to me again!”

Erik sat there with a shocked expression. He simply picked Fae up and she straddled him with her face against his neck. Erik stroked her back and her hair to calm her down. His blood was boiling.

“I’m so angry with myself—”

“Don’t be. Fae, this isn’t your fault—”

“But I keep allowing myself to be in these situations, Erik. When will I learn—”

“You deserve better. I just wish this never happened to you. I hate to see you crying over this bitch ass nigga, mama…”

Erik shook his head and tightened his jaw.

“I’m on go anytime, Fae. I’ll do whatever just tell me when.”

And Erik meant it. He really wanted to kill him. The dark side of him smiled wickedly at that thought. What he wouldn’t give to push Cordell over the rooftop and watch him fall to his death with a lit blunt in his hand. He would be happy to know that every bone in his body would be shattered like glass and his organs converted to mush. Erik shook those thoughts from his mind to soothe Fae.

“I don’t want you to get involved in my mess, Erik.”

Fae sat back while rubbing her eyes. She exhaled a shaky breath and struggled to meet Erik’s eyes.

“I feel like I’m a burden with this,” Fae looked down at her hands, “Me and my shitty love life.”

Erik shook his head in disagreement, “Fae, I have no problem wit’ it. I don’t like the way he keeps disrespecting you—”

Fae’s phone started buzzing on the coffee table next to her knock-off. She scooped it up into her hand and her face froze. She looked at Erik and turned her phone so he could see.

“Oh, so now he’s calling you?” Erik scuffed, “Fuckin’ clown…”

“The crazy thing is, I never texted him last night to let him know I was okay. He had all night to blow up my phone to check on me but no…he was too busy getting his dick wet! Loser…”

“And you were good. I made sure you were straight. Something he’s supposed to do as your man.”

Erik and Fae locked eyes and laughed boisterously.

Fae tossed her phone on the couch, “Fuck him.”

Erik tapped Fae on the side of her booty, causing her to smile. Erik watched her stretch her arms above her head and rub her cheeks to get rid of the tears.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone. I figured I could make a quick run to Whole Foods. Did you see my DM?”

Fae shook her head, “No. I was too busy crying.”

Erik gave her phone back, “Put my number in.”

She logged Erik’s number in her contacts under his name. Erik laughed at that.

“What? I don’t care. He don’t care to bring bitches back to MY place to fuck, I don’t care to put your name in my phone for him to see.”

Fae sent Erik a text so he could create a contact for her. They sent each other a picture to use.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, girl.”

Erik couldn’t stop staring at her picture. Her face grew hot and she turned away when Erik finally looked up at her. She didn’t know why she was being so bashful. His fingers grasped her chin and turned her head back.

“Stop being all shy.” Erik teased.

“Okay,” Fae smiled, “Thank you.”

Erik smooths her hair behind her ear, “For what?”

“For putting a smile on my face. For being such a gentleman…and for calling me beautiful.”

Fae gathered the same courage that she had last night when she asked Erik if he wanted to fuck. Her arms snaked around Erik’s neck and she took charge, pressing her lips against his. Their lips molded together in slow motion. Erik swiped his tongue over her bottom lip and Fae parted her lips so he could stick his tongue in her mouth.

“There’s that big girl from last night,” Erik nibbled on her bottom lip, “And you’re welcome, baby girl.”

He pushed deeply into her mouth as she forced her tongue into his. They battled, both wanting to feast on what they couldn’t deny themselves. She clung to him as her head twisted to the right then the left. Each time she moved, she drove deeper inside his welcoming home. When he retreated she returned and this time she slipped her tongue over his teeth, enjoying the smooth pearls. Her teeth tugged on his lower lip, causing Erik to grunt.

Buzz buzz buzz

Fae ignored Cordell calling again.

“I wanna help you put the groceries away,” Fae climbed off of Erik and giggled at his groaning, “Come on.”

She grabbed his hand and tugged. Erik stood up from the couch with a pout on his bottom lip. Fae grabbed the handle to the cart and made her way into the kitchen. Erik released her hand and took the cart from her.

“You don’t gotta help, Fae.” Erik said.

“But I want to.” Fae said with a sweet tone.

Erik gave her a look and started putting the grocery bags on the kitchen island. Fae smiled brightly at him before opening a bag closest to her. It was filled with canned goods.

“That goes here,” Erik opened a door that led to a narrow walk-in pantry, “all of the canned goods and packaged foods.”

Fae emptied the bag and took her time loading the items into Erik’s pantry. Erik focused on putting away some of his meats and he left ground turkey and salmon out to meal prep with. Fae and Erik moved around the kitchen in silence, like they were a couple. It felt odd doing domestic things with a man who wasn’t even your man. When they finished, Erik folded all of the reusable grocery bags and placed them inside of his pantry.

“I didn’t tell you that I saw her getting off of the elevator on my way back,” Erik shut the pantry door, “She was still fixing her hair and clothes.”

“Yeah…her last name is Rio apparently. I wanted to drag that bitch. I should have. But my beef is with Cordell. I really don’t care anymore about who he sleeps with.”

Erik watched Fae closely while she stood at his kitchen island, staring down at the granite surface with a somber expression. Erik knew that Cordell telling that woman that he loved her still hurt Fae.

“…I told this man about my past, how I’ve been hurt…he really turned around and played in my face…”

Fae finally looked up at Erik and she shut her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Fae looked away, ashamed, “I keep dumping my feelings on you.”

“Fae, I don’t care. You can talk to me. Stop overthinking it.” Erik reassured her.

Fae released a sigh.

“You’re such a great listener. I’m sure your friends tell you that.”

Erik cocked his head to the side and gave a one shoulder shrug.

“I’ve always been the quiet one in my friend group. Apparently I’m the most level-headed to them. Which is funny, because I used to be a lil’ knuckle head. Always got into trouble. Scraping, in and out of juvie, suspended.”

“So pretty much a bad kid,” Fae joked, “I’m sure your parents had a lot on their hands.

“…my pops died when I was 11 or 12. My mom not too long after that.”

A crease formed in his brow and he looked as if he were fighting with his brain to keep all of those memories locked away in a vault. Fae walked around the kitchen island and stood next to him. She reached out her hand with hesitation, placing it on top of Erik’s hand and caressing it. His eyes fell on her and he gave her a small smile with a tease of his dimples.

“I’m sure all the bad shit you did was because of that…right?”

Erik nodded his head, “Yeah. I was angry for a while.”

“My mom and I didn’t have the best relationship. When she passed from diabetes complications, I felt so guilty. For a while I wished I could have hugged her one last time. The last time I spoke to her we were arguing…bad.”

Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her while she talked.

“…pretty much my family on my mothers side wanted to sell my grandmothers old home—my mom and I lived there—and I refused to let them do that. So, they burned the house down. I lost majority of my things…my sister too…and that was the last straw for me. I moved here and never looked back. I only keep in touch with my sister.”

“Damn. That’s just greed. And I’m assuming your grandmother didn’t want it sold?”

Fae shook her head, “No. she wanted it to remain in the family. The house was damaged, hasn’t been properly investigated, and they collected the money.”

“That’s messed up, Fae.” Erik said.

“It’s diabolical. That whole family can kiss my ass.”

Erik chuckled, “People like that get there’s eventually.”

Fae laughed, “Well, my aunt’s husband divorced her and took her money. My uncle has cancer—”

“Fuck!” Erik chuckled, “That karma came back around and knocked both of ‘em upside the head.”

“Gotcha bitch!” Fae shouted.

Erik and Fae were in a fit of laughter. Fae grabbed onto Erik’s arm to keep herself from falling to the floor. Erik’s eyes were swimming with tears. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time.

“Damn, girl. Not only are you beautiful, you funny as hell,” Erik wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, “got me crying and shit.”

“My stomach hurt,” Fae giggled.

Erik surprised Fae when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and slipped his hands into the pockets of the hoodie she’s wearing. He put his face against her neck and the hairs from his mustache and goatee tickled her. She was in a fit of giggles trying to hide her neck from him.

“Erik! Stop!” Fae said with a high-pitched voice.

He hugged her tighter, his groin pressed firmly against her backside.

“Make me.” Erik whispered with a growl.

“You know I can’t,” Fae wiggled, “You’re too strong!”

“If I let you go…you gotta spend the rest of the day wit’ me.”

Fae went limp against him. Erik was far from limp. All that moving against his crotch made him stiff.

“You know I can’t do that. I gotta check on Deuce, do stuff around the apartment—ERIK!”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, princess.”

“Maybe, okay?”

Erik brought his arms away but his body was still pressed up against her. Fae was trapped. She glanced back at Erik and he had a slight frown on his face.

“We’ll see—look he’s calling again.”

Buzz buzz buzz

“Let me answer this,” Fae reached for her phone and swiped, “…Hello?”

“Fae?! What the hell? Where are you? I’ve been calling you.”

She almost laughed into the phone. Fae put it on speaker so Erik could hear as well. He had his hands on her waist beneath the hoodie she had on.

“I just got up. I had a long night, Cordell.”

Erik fought back a snigger. He pressed his face into Fae’s neck again and started kissing her there.

“You were supposed to let me know that you were okay, girl. I didn’t get one text or call from you last night…”

Fae squirmed against Erik. His plump lips created a sensation that Fae could feel from head to toe. As his lips traced her jaw, Erik tugged on the shorts she wore and yanked them down roughly. Fae gasped, reaching out to mute the phone.

“…You had me worried, Fae. It ain’t like you to do that…”

She was naked from the waist down. His hand with thick fingers climbed up the hoodie and found the cup of her bra. He squeezed her flesh and yanked one side down, her tittie popping out. He didn’t waste time taking her nipple between his fingers and twirling it. Fae bites down on her bottom lip hard, lowering her head.

“Fae?”

With one trembling finger, she unmuted the phone.

“I’m here ju–just exhausted fr–from last night.”

She quickly muted the call to giggle. Erik smiled against her cheek.

“You play too much,” She said with a hushed voice.

“So, being exhausted stops you from letting me know you straight? If it was the other way around I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

Erik’s free hand smoothed down her stomach and it was right between her legs. He somehow got the other bra cup down and now he was playing with her nipples back and forth. Fae released a breathy moan.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Fae unmuted the phone to speak.

“Shut the fuck up.” Erik said.

Fae had to cover his mouth. She couldn’t believe he just said that.

“What? Fae?”

“Uh–listen, Dell, I gotta call you back. I have a really bad hangover. I’m gonna head out now—”

“Where are you right now? You failed to answer that question.”

“With Pandora and Jermaine.”

“I should have known. They’re a bad influence, Fae. They might not have a man in their life concerned but you do.”

She muted the phone in a rush when Erik inserted two of his thick fingers deep in her pussy from the front. He got straight to work working those thick digits in and out of her. Fae reached behind to grip his thigh.

“Mm, fuck,” her mouth fell open, “Right there…”

She could tell her pussy was creaming on his fingers. It was going in and out so easily. A lot of slip for him to finger-fuck her at the perfect angle. Already she felt her walls grip like she was ready to cum.

“Faedra!”

“I gotta call you back—shit,” Fae unmuted the call, “Can I call you back, Dell?”

He could tell she sounded out of breath over the phone.

“You aight?”

“No, Cordell. I to–told you I’m hung over!”

Fae lifted his hoodie up from behind so she could reach into his sweats.

“Fine. Are you coming straight home?”

Erik kissed his teeth, “This nigga bruh…”

Fae silently laughed.

“Yeah. Will you be home?”

He was digging deep in her pussy. Fae tried to widen her legs for him to have better access.

“I have to go take care of a few things for mom’s. I just wanted to hear your voice, baby.”

“Oh–okay. I–I’ll see you later.”

“Love you—”

Erik ended the call.

“You were talking way too long on the phone, Fae.”

“I didn’t want him to—fuck.”

Erik’s fingers slipped out. He sucked her mess off and turned her around, picking her up to straddle him. He walked with her in his embrace to the guest room since it was the closest while taking off her bra. Erik entered the room and shut it quickly so Diesel wouldn’t come in. He laid Fae down and she helped him take off his clothes.

“Your puss taste good,” Erik gripped her jaw and stuck his tongue in her mouth, “Doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Fae licked her lips.

“Spread your legs…”

Fae brought her knees to her chest and held her legs up. Both of them stared between her legs. A creamy mess was smeared all over her pussy. Erik got down on his knees and with his tongue he licked all of it up. Fae placed her hand on his head and he used his hands to hold her legs back.

“Daddy, yes,” Fae frowned her face and pouted her pretty lips, “that feels so good.”

“Mhm,” Erik flicked his tongue on her clit.

“Oh, shit,” Fae smoothed his locs back.

She watched with amazement at how he ate her with so much gusto. When he looked up at her, Fae didn’t look away. She locked eyes with him and fed her pussy to him with a slow whine of her hips. When his thick lips encased her clit she yanked his locs between her fingers. He loved the pain. It made him grunt into her pussy.

“Keep eating my pussy like that, fuck, Erik oh my god!”

Thighs shaking out of control, Fae climaxed in Erik’s mouth. He sucked her up one last time before kissing her inner thighs.

He stood and sucked his bottom lip in his mouth. Fae stood up and Erik traded places with her. She took his nine inches into her palm and slapped it against her tongue. Erik had a firm grip on her thick, silky tresses and Fae, with no hands, lowered her mouth around his girth until he was sitting at the back of her throat. All of him couldn’t fit, but she tried her best and he was pleased.

“Mmm, suck that dick, girl,” Erik had Fae by the back of her head and he raised his hips to feed her dick, “Mmmm…that’s it, pretty girl…throat daddy’s dick.”

She was a spit covered mess.

“Who’s daddy?”

Fae had to hum a response because her mouth was full of big dick.

“Fae…when I send you home, I better not find out you letting that nigga hit. I’m serious.”

Fae looked up at Erik through her lashes. He had this glint in his eyes that told her not to play with him.

Fae’s mouth popped off and she jerked him, “Dead ass?”

“He don’t deserve to touch you no more, Fae.”

Fae dragged her lips along his length. She was back on that dick with a vice grip and sucked him long. From tip to base and back up. Spit and tongue. All types of noises.

“You workin’ to make daddy nut…that’s right, mama…yes…get that nut.”

His low eyes and parted lips had Fae going crazy. She loved the look on a man’s face whenever she was on her knees. It was so satisfying. Erik’s eyes rolled shut and his head went back. She went faster, Erik’s thigh muscles tightened, his abs flexed, and his biceps bulged.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm…hmmmmmmmmm—”

Spurt after spurt of his thick cum hit the back of her throat like a bullseye. Fae swallowed everything. Erik pet her hair and then smoothed his hand down the length of her strands.

“Fuck, Fae,” He had his dick at the base, slapping it against her tongue, “You ain’t leave nothing behind, girl.”

She licked the last bit of cum from his balls and let out a suppressed laugh while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You taste great,” Fae giggled.

Erik helped her up and Fae climbed on top of him. She was about to lower her pussy on him but stopped when she realized they forgot the condom.

“Top drawer,” Erik pointed to the bedside table, “I keep some in here too.”

Fae grabbed one and opened the packet. She rolled it over his length carefully and proceeded to get into position again. She reached beneath her to grip his dick while her eyes were focused on Erik. He had both of his hands on her ass, arching her back so she could fit him inside easier.

“There you go,” Erik eased her onto his dick, “good girl..”

“Unhhh…”

Fae felt full. She sat there with him inside of her while they kissed.

“C’mon, mamas,” Erik popped her on the under cuff of her left cheek, “Get this dick.”

Fae planted her hands on Erik’s chest and as soon as she got her footing, she bounced up and down. Her ass collided with his balls each time she went down.

“I can hear that wet puss…”

Erik’s hands gripped the sheets and he widened his thighs. Fae continued to bounce. All she could do was moan and whimper. It felt too good. Usually, she didn’t enjoy riding, but Erik’s dick is longer and thicker than Cordell’s.

Erik popped her on the ass, “Good girl, take this big dick.”

“Yes,” Fae dropped to her knees and bounced her hips, “This…”

“This dick good?” Erik said, finishing her words for her.

Fae nodded her head rapidly with her eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. She was panting out of control like she was out of breath.

“Fae…Faedra,” Erik brought his feet to the bed and started fucking up into her pussy, “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and one of her hands went back to try and grip Erik’s leg. He grabbed her wrist so fast she didn’t see it coming. He delivered strokes to her pussy at the same pace, never letting up.

“Cum on this dick…cum on this dick…”

“Oooooooo—”

“You’re such a good girl.”

He released her wrist from his grip and took her waist instead. Erik continued to pound her from underneath. Fae pressed against him and grabbed his wrists. That ass from Erik’s position was moving like jello.

“DADDY!”

Fae sank her teeth into Erik’s left pectoral and he groaned.

“You ain’t never had it like this, huh?!”

“No! No! No!”

Erik held his dick deep when Fae started cumming again. When she was able to catch her breath again, he went right back to fucking her.

“Daddy, oh my goodness!”

Erik wrapped his arms around her. He was close. So close. He buried his face into her hair and inhaled her sweet scent.

“I’m gonna bust, babyyyyyyy, shitttttt—”

He pulled out and that condom filled to the brim with his cum. Fae was hyperventilating above him with her hands on his chest. They were both covered in sweat and sticky.

“Fae…”

She looked down at him and he had his lips puckered for a kiss. She kissed him deeply before climbing off of him.

“I need a bath. Is it okay if I use your whirlpool tub?”

Erik stood and pinched the condom while it was still on his dick. He was still hard as a rock.

“Yeah. I’m gonna take a quick shower. I wanna make you breakfast.”

They both walked into the bathroom and Erik rubbed on Fae’s ass along the way. She ran some bath water and Erik took a quick shower. Fae watched him scrub his body in pure bliss. Erik caught her eye and he winked at her.

She pinned her hair up again and climbed into the tub when it was halfway full. She used her foot to turn off the water and relaxed back so the hot water could sooth her muscles. Erik was out of the shower with a towel around his waist.

“Don’t rush. Take your time,” Erik cleaned his face, “I want you to relax. You deserve it.”

When he finished drying off, on his way out of the bathroom he kissed Fae on her forehead. Her eyes traveled the length of his naked body until she was staring at his face. Fae gave him a content smile and Erik left her alone to relax.

Tonight, I got the time

So come fuck with me now

You only

Let me know if you're down

Fuck with me, girl

Fuck me, girl

Ooh, come fuck with me now

You only

Erik turned off the stove and grabbed a platter to plate the home fries with onions and peppers. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of black ball shorts with nothing underneath, locs covered so his hair wouldn’t smell like the food he was cooking.

…I could go through the whole night with you

What's up, what's up? What the body do?

Like a new car when the body new

Wanna get in, wanna ride with you

Ride on me, I'll ride on you

He was vibing to DVSN. Diesel was circling Erik to try and catch any food that dropped to the floor. Erik had already fed him breakfast—three boiled eggs, apples, cantaloupe, peanut butter, and yogurt drizzled in manuka honey—his favorite. Grabbing the cast iron skillet with an oven mit, Erik walked over to the sink to soak it with warm water and soap.

Back at the stove, he grabbed a non-stick skillet, and buttered the pot so he could cook the eggs. He decided to make a veggie scrample with cheese. Erik sautéed the eggs mixed with peppers, onions, garlic, spinach, and tomatoes. He hummed along to the music while sneaking a piece of bacon to eat on. Turning off the stove, he grabbed a glass bowl and dumped the eggs inside before placing it on his kitchen island with the rest of the breakfast.

After cleaning, Fae walked out wearing his hoodie with her hair up in a messy bun. He could tell that her silk press started to sweat out from the sex. She even had on his sheepskin ugg slippers. Erik had to do a double-take when he noticed. He hadn’t paid any attention before, but he’d just realized that Fae has body art. Her back, left arm and chest, right rib cage, and both legs. Fae gave Erik a beautiful smile with all her pearly white teeth before rubbing her hands together when she noticed the food.

“Is this for me?!” She said with a silvery voice.

“Yeah. Figured you could use some food after I worked that body out.”

Fae rolled her eyes with a flutter of her lashes and a smile teased her moist lips. She leaned over the counter and grabbed a strawberry.

“How nice of you, daddy,” Fae blinked her eyes seductively at Erik while biting into the strawberry.

Erik watched her with a smirk. Fae licked her fingers.

“I gotta go check on Deuce. I was thinking I could bring him over?”

“Dressed like that?” Erik raised his brows as his eyes scanned her body.

“Yeah. Cordell isn’t home. I can just sneak over, grab Deuce and his leash. I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t let the nosy ass neighbors see you.” Erik said.

“I’m not worried about them Erik! I’ll be back!”

Fae left and Erik exhaled. While she was gone, he plated their food and made both of them glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. Fae was back within five minutes, Deuce in her arms and his leash in her free hand. She sat him down and scratched behind his ears while talking to him like he could understand a word she said.

“That’s my Deuce! Mama misses you!”

He had his tongue out and his tail wagging.

“You’re such a good boy! You’re such a good boy!”

Fae sat Deuce down and he started to explore the kitchen—sniffing around—and Diesel followed him. Fae and Erik watched them interact for a little while before Fae finally accepted her plate and walked with Erik to eat at his dining table. He pulled out her seat for her and he took his right across from her. They forgot the drinks so Erik shot up from his seat to grab them. Fae looked around his dining room and noticed a small table with some framed pictures on it. All of them had Erik in them.

The first was an antique gold scalloped frame with a baby picture of Erik and his parents. They were standing in front of the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland. A blue and red Graco baby stroller was parked next to his mother while she stood with her arms wrapped around Erik’s father. His mother was beautiful. She had tawny skin, long, slender locs and sandy brown hair. Vintage oversized eyeglasses were on her face and she wore a fitted white tee and high waisted mom jeans that hugged her generously hips.

Erik’s father was a tall, carob-skinned man with a thick gold chain and dressed in a white muscle tee with Hulk Hogan on the front. He wore red basketball shorts that stopped at his upper knees. He was built, pecs bulging over the top of his muscle tee, and his arms were scary to look at. That man was cut like he lived in the gym. Erik was in his arms, dressed similar to his dad except he had on a Disneyland T-shirt with blue shorts on. They all had on the same high-top Adidas and Erik and his mother wore Mickey Mouse ears.

Erik took after both of them.

He returned and Fae blinked her eyes away from the photo. He was back in his seat and tucking into his food. Fae forked some of the potatoes and tasted them, closing her eyes with content. It was so flavorful. The eggs were so good. The bacon was the perfect amount of crispy. The fruit was delicious. The orange juice was refreshing.

“This is great, Erik,” Fae finished her eggs.

“Thank you.”

Fae looked at the photo again and then back at Erik.

“Do you have more photos with your parents?”

Erik looked over at her through his lashes while hunched over his food.

“I do. But my grandma has them all.”

“I see,” Fae took a sip of her juice, “what happened to them?”

Erik sat back in his seat and stared at Fae.

“Your parents? I-I’m sorry if you don’t want to answer. I know you said your mom died…”

“…uhm,” Erik looked away at their photo and then his eyes dropped to his lap, “My dad was murdered. My mom died in her sleep…brain aneurysm.”

Fae didn’t know what to say to that. She sat across from Erik with her fork suspended over her half-eaten plate, her vision growing foggy from tears that would have fallen if she didn’t wipe her eyes quickly. Erik finally looked up at her and she could see the pain in his eyes.

Erik rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, “My pops died during the LA riots in ‘92. He was just trying to keep the peace. Niggas ain’t like that shit so they killed him. Drive by…right in front of our house. I was on my Big Wheel and–and I just…”

Erik shrugged both of his shoulders. He twisted his thick lips and shook his head, as if to say that’s how it was living in that environment. You gotta watch your back.

“All because he was doing better for himself. It was envy…my mom she just…she never got over it. She was so stressed all the time. I don’t even wanna get into the details with that but…yeah…my grandparents took me in, raised me up, dealt with my bullshit…”

“Erik, that’s a lot,” Fae had her elbows propped up on the table while her face rested in her hands. She was listening intently, “Too much for a child to just…take in, you know? To understand…I can’t even imagine—well, I get it.”

Erik sat up straighter in his seat and brushed it off, “All good. ‘Ppreciate you for listening.”

“Of course.” Fae replied with a warm smile.

Fae felt compelled to share more about herself.

“…My mom was a God-fearing woman. She tried to turn my sister and me into versions of herself. I’m sure you know how the Church can be…a bunch of judgmental hypocrites. What she didn’t know, was that I couldn’t stand being there because…”

Fae felt a single tear roll down her cheek. She brought her knees to her chest and wiped her cheeks with Erik’s hoodie. Erik looked at her with a crease in his brow and concerned eyes.

“My uncle…he would…”

Erik shook his head, “Fae…no,” Erik furrowed his brows.

He didn’t like where this conversation was heading. He didn’t even want to think about what she was going to say.

“…She didn’t believe me. She called me promiscuous, punished me for speaking up, made me feel guilty like it was my fault. I resented her. But…I just wanted her to love me. Be proud of me. I used to think it was because of me that she stopped caring about her health…”

Erik stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he was right next to Fae. He rubbed her back and told her that it was going to be okay. Fae released a shaky breath.

“Fae?”

Erik called out to her because she was too quiet.

Fae sniffled, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, love?”

“Because if I hadn’t asked you about your parents, we wouldn’t be here.”

Erik grabbed Fae by her hands and she stood up. He rubbed along her shoulders before tilting her chin up to look at him.

“You don’t need to apologize for that. We were having a deep, meaningful conversation. That’s all.” Erik reassured her.

Fae tilted her head at him, “We were just trauma-bonding. Again. Forget that we even had this discussion and let’s talk about something else.”

“…okay. Whatever you say, Miss Faedra.”

She shook out her limbs and Erik chuckled at how she looked swimming in his hoodie.

“I want some more food,” Fae grabbed her plate and walked back into the kitchen.

Erik was right behind her. Diesel and Deuce almost knocked him down the way they sprinted past him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d just shared with him. Did her uncle…

“Chill out!” Erik shouted after them.

Watching her walk ahead of him on that perfect fall afternoon brought a smirk to his face. Fae looked back at Erik, beaming at him, the sun making her honeyed skin glow. Deuce was dragging her along to the dog park and Fae almost tripped in her platform Uggs. Erik grabbed her by the hand and she laughed against his arm.

Finally at the park, they released Deuce and Diesel to play amongst the other dogs. Fae took pictures of Deuce and Diesel running amuck while Erik stood there, watching her intently. He had to gather himself when she caught him staring and winked.

Faedra McAdams.

This petite woman that reminded him of Pocahontas is affecting his heart in ways he’d never genuinely experienced. Erik never knew it possible to fall so hard for someone in such a short period. It’s only been almost a month. It’s definitely more than lust. He really likes her. Erik kicked at the gravel beneath his feet deep in thought. Hands in the pockets of his sweats, he thought about their situation.

When she does break up with Cordell, will she still pursue me?

I want to take her out on a date.

She’s so good with Diesel.

I want to know more about her.

“You only have a sister?”

Faedra turned towards Erik.

“I do. I had a step brother…he passed.”

“Damn,” Erik shook his head, “What happened?”

“Gun violence.”

Fae gave Erik a small smile.

“What?” Erik asked.

“You were in deep thought over there…everything okay?”

He bobbed his head, “All good, ma. Just thinking about this damn job.”

Erik dragged his hands down his face.

How would she react when I tell her I assassinate people for a living?

“Where do you have to go?” Fae questioned.

“Bangkok. Not sure how long but it just depends on the extent of the job. I really should be training but…”

Erik cocked his head at Fae and his eyes flashed with playfulness. She rolled her eyes at him and pursed her luscious lips.

“So, it’s my fault?”

“Damn right. A pleasant distraction…”

Fae crossed her arms and turned her face away to hide her blush. She started walking in the other direction around the play area and Erik followed her. She glanced back at Erik over her shoulder and squinted at him with a teasing smile on her face.

“…so, these doggy dates, right?”

“Yeahhh,” Fae replied.

Erik walked up behind her and pressed his lips to her ear, startling her.

“Does it involve doggy style?” He whispered.

Fae giggled and shook her head.

“You’re so stupid.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

Fae looked heavenward.

“Okay,” She licked her lips.

Erik dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. They made it back to there same spot to check on their dogs. Fae glanced at her phone a few times with her forehead puckered. Erik knew who it had to be.

“That nigga keep blowing your phone up?”

“Yep,” Fae exhales, “He’s back at the apartment.”

Erik gave Fae a once-over and then looked away.

“He’s really pissing me off,” Fae showed Erik her phone with another call from him, “Like, leave me the hell alone right now.”

Erik had a light bulb moment. He snickered to himself before locking eyes with Fae. She surveyed his expression.

“What are you laughing at this time, goofy?”

“Oh, just…forgot to bring a ball for the boys to play fetch. I just had a little idea of what we could use…”

Erik’s eyes dropped down to Fae’s knock-off. She followed his gaze and it took her a minute to catch on, but when she did, her laugh was splendid. She was bent over, hands to knees, hysterical. Erik brought a hand to his stomach and his shoulders bounced with his own laughter.

“You make me sick!” Fae wiped her eyes.

“Diesel!” Erik whistled.

“Deuce!” Fae called out.

They both came bounding over.

“Fuck it,” Fae emptied her bag, “Here.”

Erik gladly accepted the bag. He shook it in front of Deuce and Diesel and they followed it closely with their eyes.

“Fetch!”

Erik tossed the bag and both of them sprinted off. Fae watched with wide eyes and her hands covering her mouth with surprise. Erik couldn’t stop chuckling. They had their teeth latched onto her bag, tugging and yanking with their strong jaws. Fae witnessed the destruction with shock.

Diesel had the shredded bag in his mouth and Deuce had the handle hanging from his mouth. They ran up on Erik and he took the ruined fragments. He held them up for Fae to look at and she couldn’t believe it.

“They chewed through that motherfucka!” Erik smiled with his dimples deep, “Gahhhh.”

Fae was in a fit of giggles.

“He’s gonna be so pissed.” Fae said.

“Good.” Erik replied.

They let Deuce and Diesel play for another thirty minutes before heading back to the apartment. Diesel went for a bathroom break and Erik groaned when he had to pick up his shit. Fae gave him some hand sanitizer.

“I meant to ask, who is Pandora and Jermaine?”

Fae giggled, “My two besties. I met them in college. They’re models. Before I met Cordell, they took me all over NY. All the exclusive parties, fashion shows…it was fun. I got with Cordell and he’s been very vocal about his disdain for them.”

“So, he’s just one big hating ass bitch?”

Fae laughed, “Pretty much.”

At the apartment building now, Fae stops in her tracks when Erik opened the door for her to enter.

“What?” Erik stared at Fae with a puzzled look.

“We should go up separately.”

Erik gave Fae a half shrug, “Okay. I’ll let you go first.”

Fae finally walked inside and Erik took slow strides to the elevator while Fae quickly pressed the button. He could sense her anxiousness. She was fidgeting with Deuce’s leash, tapping her foot, and sighing.

“Fae, calm down. You know I’m right next door if you need me. And you have my number.” Erik reassured her.

Fae gave Erik a small smile as she entered the elevator. He could sense her hesitancy. Erik was afraid of what might go down. He didn’t know anything about Cordell besides the fact that he’s a cheater and hates Erik’s guts. This man could have a temper. One that requires him to be put in check.

“Call me if you need me, Fae. I’m serious.”

Fae nodded her head and waved to Erik as the doors closed.

Keys in the door, Fae opened it carefully and as she walked in, she could hear the kitchen sink running. She shut the door behind her slowly and stood at the door for a minute to try and gather herself. She hadn’t had time to prepare to face Cordell after all that transpired. Fae’s eyes scanned the living room and she tried to find any traces of the other woman. Of course, there wouldn’t be. If it was, Cordell had cleaned up.

Fae crouched down to release Deuce and he sprinted off into the kitchen. She sat his leash down on a side table next to the door along with her keys. She looked down at her body and instantly her eyes went round. She was still wearing Erik’s hoodie! She rushed to take it off and couldn’t figure out where to toss it for now.

“Fae?!”

Cordell turned off the kitchen sink. Fae quickly walked over to the couch and threw the hoodie behind it before taking a seat. As soon as she sat down, Cordell entered the room and he had a well rehearsed expression of worry.

“Hey,” Fae said with uncertainty in her voice. She cleared her throat to speak again, “Hey, baby.”

Cordell walked over to her and Fae held her breath. He sat down next to her and kissed her cheek. Her jaw tightened.

“Had me worried,” Cordell’s eyes scanned her body, “Where’s your jacket?”

Shit.

“Left it at Pandora and Jermaine’s. I wanted to get home to check on Deuce and take him for a walk.”

Fae shifted her hips away from Cordell on the couch. Even the feel of his leg against hers angered her.

“So, you came home and took Deuce for a walk with no jacket on? I’m shocked,” Cordell chuckled, “You know how your immune system is for shit.”

Fae let out a fake laugh, “Yeah. Today isn’t bad. It’s like sixty-five degrees out.”

“What did y’all do last night?” Cordell circled his arm around Fae’s shoulders.

Nigga, get your cheating ass hands off me!

“Went out for drinks, came back to the apartment to play a little Uno, sat up and talked…girl stuff…”

“I’m just glad you’re safe. I was worried all night about you, baby. I ended up going to bed early. I was so tired after grading those papers…”

He went on and on with his lie and Fae sat there zoned out. She focused her attention on her coffee table and noticed her special candles were out of place.

“My candles,” Fae leaned forward to fix them, “Did you move these?”

Fae looked at Cordell and he had this nervous look on his face. He tried to hide it with a chuckle and a slap to his forehead like he’d forgotten about it.

“My fault, babe. Spilled some water and did a quick clean up.”

“Oh, okay,” Fae sat back, “Thought you might’ve had someone over.”

Cordell looked at Fae for a second. His eyes were guilty as fuck.

“Hell no. Could have been you but you had to go out with your friends.”

Really nigga? Fae thought. She had something for that ass.

“Dell, I gotta show you something. Don’t get mad, okay?”

Cordell frowned his forehead, “What could I be mad about?”

Fae stood up and walked towards the door to retrieve her damaged purse that was beyond repair. She had to gather immense strength to keep from having a laughing fit.

“So…this happened at the doggy park—”

“What!!”

Cordell shot up from the couch and took long strides towards Fae. He plucked the pieces from her hands and turned it every which way, mouth hanging open and anger in his eyes.

“How the fuck did this happen, Fae?”

Fae shrugged both of her shoulders while she chewed on her lip.

“I can’t believe this. You know how much this cost me? Almost 2 bands.”

It barely cleared two hundred dollars, Fae thought.

“I’m sorry. The dog just latched onto my bag at the park—”

“Did Deuce do this?” Cordell questioned with an accusatory tone, cutting her off.

“No. It was some random dog at the park, Cordell—”

“Why would some random dog chew up a fucking bag, Fae?”

“I don’t know, go ask the owner.” Fae fired back.

“You don’t seem too upset about it. This shit wasn’t cheap, bruh,” Cordell groaned with irritation, “Like you don’t get that shit—”

“My rent ain’t cheap, Cordell. It’s just a bag, it was an accident!”

“To you,” Cordell argued, “When it’s coming out of my pockets it concerns me.”

“You can just get me a new one.” Fae replied matter-of-factly.

Cordell looked at her like she had two heads.

“Do you even deserve a new one after this?”

Oh, so now he’s talking to me like I’m a child?

“Cordell, relax. And yes, I do deserve it.” Fae sassed.

Fae brushed past him and Cordell followed her all the way to their room. Deuce was barking after Cordell because he could sense that Fae was upset. Cordell caught up with Fae and slammed the door in Deuce’s face. Fae turned on her heels and scowled at Cordell from the other side of the bed.

“Don’t slam the door in my dog face, Cordell!”

“You know what I think,” He pointed a finger at her, “I think Deuce did this shit.”

“Oh my god,” Fae laughed at the audacity, “Cordell, I’m done with this conversation. I have a hair appointment in about two hours I gotta get ready.”

“Fine.”

Cordell tossed the chewed up bag onto the bed, opened the door and stormed off. Fae quietly laughed to herself, rolling around the bed. Deuce hopped up on the bed next to her and started licking her face. Fae rubbed his back and tried to calm herself down but the tears were rolling into her hairline.

Her phone vibrated with a text and she grabbed it from her back pocket to check it. A smile instantly spread across her lips. Fae flipped over onto her stomach, legs swinging, typing out a reply to her sneaky link.

“I’m sorry.”

Fae looked up at Cordell. He was standing in the doorway with a sorry look on his face.

“It’s okay…”

Fae put her phone face down and got up from the bed to hug Cordell. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. Fae looked to the ceiling with a roll of her eyes before Cordell released her. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers and tried to give her tongue but Fae broke the kiss.

“I gotta go,” Fae grabbed her phone and another purse—a small black Telfar—from her closet, “I’m gonna be late for my hair appointment.”

Cordell sat down on the bed, “Mom’s is having that party tonight. You still wanna come with me?”

Fae acted as if she were considering it, but deep down she wasn’t going. Before she discovered that her man was cheating on her, she might have. But, Cordell’s family are just as fake as he is. This wouldn’t be the first time he brought another woman around his family and they turned a blind eye. Fae was certain of that.

“…No. I think I’m gonna relax. After going out last night, my body is exhausted. I hope that’s okay…”

Cordell lowered his head and gave Fae a dismissive wave of his hand, “It’s all good, Fae. Maybe next time, right?”

There won’t be a next time.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, babe. You look like you really wanted me to go,” Fae pouted her lip, “Listen, I’ll go with you—”

“Fae, it’s okay,” Cordell smiled, “I want you to relax. I’ll be fine, baby.”

“You sure?” Fae bat her lashes at Cordell.

“I am. I promise.”

“Well, I may not see you when I get back…”

Cordell nodded his head, “Yeah I gotta head out a little earlier to help her set up. You know how my lazy ass brother is. Don’t wanna do shit…”

Fae gave Cordell one final hug and kiss and he tapped her on the butt. She turned back and waved before leaving the room.

“Hey! Maybe when I get home we can have a little session? I ain’t been in my pussy for the last couple of days.”

Fae cringed.

“We’ll see! Love you!”

“Love you too!”

She collected her things, including Erik’s hoodie, and left the apartment

Erik had just finished feeding Diesel. He took him out for a quick bathroom break and on his way back he thought about taking Fae out for dinner. He put on a white T-shirt with olive green cargo pants that fit snug at the ankles and white air force 1’s. He accessorized with diamond studded earrings, a white gold, thick cuban link chain, and a diamond gold Rolex. Erik completed the look with a black Supreme varsity letterman jacket.

He did one final sweep of his room to make sure he had everything before making his way out towards the door. Fae texted him that he could come over and Erik was out the door. He casually walked up to her door and knocked three times. Fae opened the door and Erik picked up Deuce so he wouldn’t run into the hall.

Erik looked around Fae’s apartment. It was stylishly furnished and spacious. She had a lot of large plants in her living room, and plenty of wall art. Erik brought his eyes to Fae and admired her. She looked pretty for the date night. He was digging the braids heavy.

He could see her ass through her tall ornate mirror that she had propped up in her living room. It was sitting in those jeans.

“Hi,” Fae gave Erik a flirty smile, “you look handsome.”

“Thank you.”

Erik couldn’t help but to gently stroke Fae’s chin. He tilted her head up and went in for a kiss on those soft, glossy lips. He noticed that she’d outlined her lips with a brown pencil. Mmmm. He stole another kiss and licked his lips to taste her gloss. It tasted like cherries. His wide hands cuffed both of her cheeks and he squeezed, groped, and fondled her backside.

“You wearing this shit, baby,” Erik looked over at the mirror, “Slim-thick for real.”

“Stop making me blush,” Fae said with a cute, whiny voice.

“When you deserve it? Nah…”

Erik brought his lips to her neck and Fae squeaked. It was the cutest thing Erik ever heard.

“Erik,” Fae tried to get his attention, “we gotta go…”

Fae walked away and Erik popped her on the ass. She checked everything and grabbed her keys, following Erik out of the apartment hand-in-hand. They took the elevator down, Fae standing in front of Erik while he wrapped his arms around her and put his nose in her hair. Fae was loving that he was very touchy-feely with her. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Or his lips. Or his dick. She was in pure bliss. He wanted to see her smile and blush all the time just as much as he wanted to see her bite her lip and make love faces.

In the garage, they made their way to Erik’s car and when he pressed the button twice to unlock it, Fae’s arched brows rose.

Erik opened her door for her and Fae climbed in. He shut her door and made his way around to get into the driver’s seat.

“This is so fire,” Fae looked around, feeling on the dash, “I love the matte finish on the car.”

“Thanks,” Erik glanced at her with a half smirk, “Buckle up, passenger princess.”

Fae giggled. Secured, they were on their way to Konoko. Erik was listening to Usher previously. Fae recognized the song and she started singing along.

Erik joined in, his voice surprisingly good. It wasn’t Usher good, but he could hold a note. Erik caught Fae watching and he started singing to her.

On this side (This side)

Legs up like a peace sign (Ooh)

Two cups down, got her tongue-tied (Tongue-tied)

Can't wait 'til I'm inside (Inside)

Beat, beat 'til the sunrise

All up in her hair like a hair tie

Two cups down, got us tongue-tied

I can't wait 'til I'm inside, woah…

“Okay vocals!”

“I meannn,” Erik stroked his chin all cocky, “I can do a lil’ somethin’ somethin’.”

Fae silently laughed to herself. Erik’s hand found its way to her thigh as he drove. He caressed her while one-hand whipping his car. Occasionally they would catch each other’s eye and smile. SWV-Right Here started playing and Fae squealed excitedly. She turned it up and started shimmying her hips and rocking her shoulders in time to the old skool beat. Erik was right with her, head bopping and mouthing the lyrics.

“Right Here! Be Right Here! RIGHT HERE!”

“No fear, Have no fears! NO TEARS!”

Erik slowed down behind a truck at a red light. He acted like Fae’s personal hype man.

“Okay!” Erik said.

“You know I sound a hot mess!” Fae shouted over the loud music.

Erik pulled off. They drove for another twenty minutes and finally, they made it to Konoko. It was packed which was expected, so Erik had to drive around for a little bit to find a parking spot. Erik quickly parallel parked and made his way around to open Fae’s door.

“Hello! Welcome to Konoko. My name is Malcom, I’ll be your server for today. Is this your first time dining with us?”

At the heart of the establishment, Konoko embraces the “one love” spirit of Jamaica. Each reservation and every encounter with their guests reflects this deep-rooted ethos, ensuring a unique and authentic Jamaican experience for all. They are best known for their exceptional service, and delectable cuisine.

“Yeah, this is our first time. What would you recommend for drinks?” Erik asked.

“Cocktails?” Malcom responded.

“Yes.”

They both spoke in unison. Fae gave Erik a surprised look and he laughed. It was as if they were twin flames.

“It depends on your preferences. What were you looking at on the menu? I can give you my personal opinion about it.” Malcom said.

“Cool. You first,” Erik motioned to Fae.

“I was wondering if I could try your Rhum Punch. Is it really good? Like straight from Jamaica good?”

Malcolm gleamed, showing off the gap between his teeth and nods his head, “The Rhum Punch is actually my favorite. I’ve tried them all but that one I really love. It’s a great balance.”

Fae perked up, “I’ll have that one then.”

“Okay. For you, Sir?”

“The Bob Marley. That’s an icon,” Erik stated, eyebrows disappearing beneath his locs, “so the drink gotta be good, right?”

Fae chuckled.

“It’s definitely a hit if you’re looking for something stronger. I like it, but it’s too strong for me. One of those is enough to get me drunk honestly.”

“You’re speaking my language, bro. I’ll take The Bob Marley.”

“Got it. Anything else? Appetizers?”

Erik and Fae looked over the starter menu. She knew what she wanted instantly, but she wasn’t sure if Erik would agree. She looked over at Erik expectantly through her lashes. He caught her eye and smirked at her.

“Do you know what you want?” He asked.

“Uh…maybe we can do the jerk wings.”

“We’ll have that,” Erik pondered, twisting his thick lips, “Also, I’ll get the coconut shrimp as well.”

“Perfect,” Malcom scribbled that down, “I’ll be right back with your drinks and some water.”

“Thank you.”

They did it again.

“So, Miss. Fae, how are you enjoying our date so far?” Erik questioned with a playful expression.

“I’m having a lot of fun.” Fae said with a blush.

“Faedra?!”

“Oh my god, that is her!”

Her heart leaped into her throat. Erik followed those voices with a crease in his brow. Two women walked over dressed in their finest freekum dresses with stilettos. The taller woman with the natural fro wore a Chanel bag and the other woman with a side-part quick weave wore a Brandon Blackwood purse. What a coincidence would it be to run into her two best friends tonight of all times?

“Pandora!” Fae was referring to the taller woman, “Jermaine!” Her brown eyes looked at her other friend, “Wow! Funny running into both of y’all! Hey besties!” Her voice was numb with shock.

Pandora’s eyes were wide and she put on a forced smile, glancing over at Erik. Jermaine was staring him up and down with accusatory eyes.

“Fae-Fae, who is this?” Pandora asked, pointing at Erik with her long, acrylic hot pink nail.

“Yes, who is your dinner partner?” Jermaine questioned with a hint of sarcasm.

“Uh—”

“Erik.”

Erik confidently held out his hand and Pandora grabbed it first to shake. Jermaine shook his hand but continued to keep an eye on him. Both ladies looked at Fae with the we have a lot to talk about look. She had a lot of explaining to do apparently.

“Erik? Okay…nice to meet you,” Jermaine looked Erik up and down, trying to come up with a reason in her mind why Fae would be on a date with another man, “How do you know our Fae-Fae?”

“He—”

“We’re neighbors.”

Fae cut her eyes at her friends and smiled nervously.

“Oh. That’s…” Pandora and Jermaine shared a look, “That’s interesting.”

Erik furrowed his brows and blinked at both of them while the corner of his mouth twitched, fighting the urge to laugh.

This was awkward.

“Well, we should be going,” Jermaine looped her arm around Pandora’s quickly, “Fae-Fae, we love you, be safe, and…we’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Of course,” Fae shifted in her seat, “I’ll call you ladies tomorrow.”

“Why don’t we go out for brunch?!” Pandora suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Fae nodded her head, her eyes saying more than what she wanted to say at the moment.

“Okay, good night, Erik. Nice meeting you,” Pandora waved goodbye.

“Good night,” Jermaine bid them farewell.

Both ladies strutted away but they glanced back at their booth with nosy eyes. Fae exhaled a shaky breath and fidgeted in her seat, unable to meet Erik’s eyes. He was watching her closely with a smirk on his plump lips.

“Here are your drinks…”

Malcom returned and placed their drinks on the table.

“Appetizers will be out soon, enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

Again.

“Ooo,” Erik smacked his lips after taking a sip, “That is good. Well mixed, strong, lots of flavor. I’m feelin’ it.”

Fae took a sip of hers and her brown eyes widened with happiness.

“I love it! It’s delicious,” she took another sip and slid her drink aside for a moment.

Erik continued drinking his, bobbing his head to the music, onyx eyes glancing around. Fae twirled her straw around her drink. She was bursting to say something about what had just happened. She was ready to explode.

“That was unexpected, huh?” Fae giggled.

“Yeah,” Erik sat his drink down, chuckling, “You weren’t prepared for that one at all.”

Fae rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised you haven’t said anything to them about it.” Erik said.

“I—I really didn’t want to share this…I kinda wanted to do my own thing without people telling me what I shouldn’t do.”

Erik mulled her words over while studying her face.

“Isn’t what Faedra wants to do more important than anybody else’s unprovoked opinion?”

She tilted her head in agreement, “It is.”

“So, there’s nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about.” Erik said.

Fae sipped from her straw and visibly relaxed. The appetizers came out and Fae took pictures of the food. They sampled food from each other’s plates and both were delicious. Fae let Erik eat the rest of her wings so she could save room for the curry shrimp, peas and rice, cabbage, and coco bread.

“When is your birthday?” Erik asked.

“Oh, August 5th. You?”

“March 22nd.” Erik replied.

Fae’s eyes lit up.

“You’re an Aries?!”

“Mhm.” Erik nibbled on his straw.

“Passionate, intense, and always up for a good time. Impulsive and spontaneous. Fiery temper…”

Erik smiled with deep dimples at Fae, “So, you’re into astrology?”

“Yes I am! That’s my shit,” Fae snapped her fingers and stuck her tongue out, “I love Aries!”

“What else do they say about Aries men?”

Fae smiled at Erik excitedly. She was all for this conversation. Cordell hated whenever Fae talked about astrology. He didn’t believe or find any of it fascinating.

Why do women pay so much attention to signs? It’s all bullshit.

“As far as love goes, Aries men are incredible with communicating and your love language is physical touch. You’re not afraid to show your feelings and you’re always honest. Great partner for independent women…”

Erik listened intently leaning back against the booth seat with his arms folded over his chest.

“…You’re natural leaders, full of confidence, and ready for action. So intelligent and quick-witted. Great charisma, fun as hell to be around, the list goes on and on.”

Fae stopped to take a breath and Erik laughed. His laugh was so contagious and Fae loved the sound of it.

“Thank God I’m an Aries,” Erik made prayer hands and looked up towards the ceiling with a smirk, “This beautiful woman right here loves Aries men.”

Fae giggles, “Funny enough…guess who Aries are compatible with?”

“Let me guess,” Erik propped his elbows up on the table with a jerk wing between his fingers and a half smile on his lips, “Leo’s.”

“Bingo,” Fae blushes, “Strong physical attraction…a lot of passion and love for each other. They’re are differences that can lead to heated arguments but all in all they trust each other.”

Erik was happy with those words. He didn’t know much about astrology, mostly because it didn’t interest him before, but to hear Fae speak so passionately about it, he wanted to know everything. The conversation veered to childhood memories where they shared more laughter and eventually Fae changed the subject.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uh,” Erik sat his fork down and grabbed his drink, “I have…”

“What was her name?”

“Gina.”

“Where did you two meet?”

“College. Same major. Uh…she was my first real relationship.”

Fae nodded her head, “What happened?”

“We…were at different points in our life. I was always away…training…she was sleeping with one of my friends while I was away—”

“What?!” Fae whisper-yelled, “Erik, you’ve been cheated on?”

“Yeah. I was…I was hurt. I came home, found them in our bed having sex…passionate sex too…I could only react by…killing him.”

Fae was frozen with her mouth unhinged and eyes wide.

Erik cracked a smile and laughed, “I’m just fuckin’ with you. I didn’t kill him—”

“Jesus, Erik—”

“I beat his ass good though.” Erik twirled his empty glass in hand.

“So…you really know what it’s like?”

“More than you know, ma,” Erik smirked at her from across the table, “looks like we’re trauma-bonding again.”

“Ha, no,” Fae said, “just two halves of one whole.”

Erik let out a suppressed laugh, “Aren’t you glad I’m your sneaky link?”

“Ecstatic.” Fae replied with a wink.

While they talked, they ordered their entrees which were heavy portions. Erik settled on the oxtail and it was the best he’d ever had. He loved Jamaica the one time he’s been there, but the last oxtail he had there was really fatty and the oxtail from Konoko had a good amount of meat on it. They both shared coco bread and ordered some plantains to go.

“This place is definitely a ten out of ten for me.”

Fae was on her way back from the restroom and she accepted her purse and jacket from Erik before leaving.

Erik held the door opened for her, “I’ll definitely be back. It was worth the money.”

Erik held out his hand and Fae grasped it tightly. They waited for several cars to roll by before crossing over to their parked car.

“After you, princess,” Erik held her door open and placed his hand on Fae’s butt while she lowered on to the seat.

“Thank you, daddy,” She said with a sweet voice.

Erik settled into his car after placing the food on the backseat.

“I have one more place to take you for our date night.”

Fae looked at Erik. She turned her body in her seat with curious eyes. He started the car and they were easing out of the parked spot.

“Is it a secret?” Fae asked.

“No,” Erik glanced at her, “You’ll know instantly anyway so I might as well tell you.”

Fae pouted her bottom lip and looked heavenward with a perplexed look in her eyes, “Where are we going?”

“Shooting range.”

Pow! Pow! POW!

Pop! Pop! POP!

Fae was icy with panic. She brought both of her hands up to cover her ears over the shooting earmuffs while following closely behind Erik. Being there made it all more real for her. Erik booked a secluded section and in front of them behind the plexiglass was two glocks ready for use. Erik swiftly picks it up and checks the magazine on both guns.

“Fully loaded,” Erik cocked both guns, “okay, this one is for you…careful, Fae.”

“Oh—okay,” Fae grabbed the gun with shaky hands.

Pop pop POP!

Fae ducked and Erik laughed.

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re safe.”

Fae looked up at Erik with an anxious look on her face.

“I’m gonna help you with your form before we shoot,” Erik stood behind her, “use both hands, Fae. Place the gun securely into your dominant hand…okay, now spread apart your thumb and index finger. Place the gun into the crook that forms…like this…keeping the gun back strap as high as possible…”

“…Notice that there is a gap between the heel of your hand and the tip of your fingers to the left side of the grip? Take your non-dominant or support hand and wrap it around the strong hand so that this gap is no longer visible…”

Erik was pressed firmly behind Fae. Her heart was racing in her chest. She looked past the eye protectors on her face at the target straight ahead.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Fae said.

“No, position the thumb of your non-dominant hand so that it overlaps with the thumb of your dominant hand…good girl…when it comes time to fire the gun, place your index finger on the trigger. The space between the tip of your finger and the top knuckle should be the only part on the trigger…”

“Got it,” Fae released a sigh, “So just…shoot?”

Erik’s hands came up to support Fae’s arms. The target was straight ahead, awaiting bullets. She was nervous and unsure of herself.

“Fae, you got this. I’m sure you’re a natural. Just don’t overthink it. Just...picture Cordell's ugly mug and set it off.” Erik reassured her.

Fae's eyes damn near popped out of their sockets at what Erik said. Erik let out a suppressed laugh and bumped Fae from behind with his crotch.

"All jokes. You got this, baby girl."

“Okay…”

POP!

The gun was a little unstable in her grip during recoil. She was shocked by the way it felt to shoot a handgun. Fae laughed nervously and looked up at Erik expectantly.

“Not too bad, don’t hold it so loose though, baby. Try again.”

POP POP POP-POP—POP!

“See?! Not so bad, is it?”

Erik brought his face around to kiss Fae on the cheek. She sat the gun down with shaky fingers.

“That was an adrenaline rush!”

Erik bit his lip while pressing a button to bring the target towards them, “let’s see how many holes you put in him.”

He grabbed the target and Fae counted all the bullets.

“No head-shots.” Fae pouts.

“Doesn’t matter. You hit the target. That’s impressive, baby. Wanna go again?”

Fae agreed and picked up her gun. Erik fixed her posture and the grip she had on the handgun and after his words of encouragement, Fae shot at the new target and the way her eyes brightened made Erik smile from ear to ear. She was so ecstatic. When they retrieved the target, Fae squealed excitedly. He couldn’t help but to look at her with a big smile.

“I wanna see you shoot,” Fae looked up at Erik through her lashes.

“You do?” Erik picked up his gun, “Anything for you.”

Fae giggles. She stood back to give Erik some space. Erik removed his jacket and handed it to Fae to hold. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. A new target appeared and Erik used the same two-hand technique as Fae. Fae could see the muscles in his arms flex from all the strength he used to grip the pistol. Once his grip was secure, he pushed his arms out in front of him. He positioned his wrists so that the heel of his non-dominant hand is as high and flat on the gun as possible. He started firing the gun with a steady grip. Everywhere he aimed, the bullet would precisely hit the target. The recoil didn’t faze him at all.

Fae was impressed and…horny. Erik put the safety back on the gun and sat it down so he could bring the target to him.

“Wow,” Fae admired his target, “Three head shots…you show off.”

She shoves Erik and he caught her with his arms wrapping around her.

“I like watching you shoot.” Fae admitted with a blush.

“Hm,” Erik smirked down at her, “Are you trying to tell me something, baby girl?”

Fae blinked her eyes away. Erik gripped her chin gently, turning her eyes back onto him.

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” Fae whispered seductively.

Erik licked his lips when Fae’s hand rested over his crotch. She rubbed up and down, igniting his dick, causing Erik to grunt.

“You want me out here with my dick poking, ma?” Erik whispered.

“I can’t help myself,” Fae could feel him stiffening beneath her hand, “You make me do bold shit like this.”

“What other bold shit you tryna get into?” Erik asked with a hushed tone, “We got all night,” both of his hands gripped her ass.

“Take me home so we can fuck some more.”

Her voice. The way she whispered that. Erik’s dick jumped. Her voice alone did things to him.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.”

Fae puckered her glossy lips and Erik pressed his lips against hers. They tongue-kissed deeply, attracting attention from others.

“Can we go, please?” Fae begged against Erik’s lips.

“Aight,” Erik pulled away.

Erik watched her closely, his eyes downcast and low. He stroked her braids from her face and his thumb caressed her sunken cheek. He was reclined back, pants and briefs pushed towards the top of his thighs, hips hanging lower on his leather seat.

She was a sight to behold. Erik looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world with his dick in her throat. Her delicate hand had a handful of his balls to keep him upright while she sucked his veiny shaft with no hands. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were commanding her.

Erik’s thumb smoothed over the side of her lips, outlining the shape of them wrapped snuggly around his shaft and covered in spit. He was mesmerized. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a slow blink, seductively slurping on his dick. He formed a crease in his brow when she suctioned her lips on his tip nice and slow.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Erik dragged his lip between his teeth, “mmmm.”

She made these mewling sounds while she slurped and it drove Erik crazy.

“You’re such a pretty fuckin’ dick sucker…”

Fae’s lips popped off of Erik’s dick slowly and she sat up with wet lips. Her hand jerked him as their lips connected. Erik’s hips pumped at the same slow pace of Fae’s hand. She broke the kiss and pressed her cheek against his cheek. Both pairs of eyes were focused on her hand twisting and yanking on his pole.

“It’s so long and thick, daddy,” Fae whispered.

“Fae,” Erik gripped her chin firmly and pressed his lips against hers hungrily.

“Are you daddy’s baby? Are you my nasty little slut? Can daddy fuck you all over your apartment? Can daddy feel that pussy?” Erik spoke against her lips.

“Unh, yes, please, I need it.”

Erik’s dick throbbed in her hand. Pre cum gathered at the wide tip of his big dick and Fae cleaned it up with her lips.

“Fuck.”

The feeling of her tongue gliding over the veins, her warm mouth and tight jaws. Even the way she massaged his nuts had him going crazy.

“Fae, let go,” Erik had to pry her hand off his dick. It was standing straight up, “Let’s go to your place. I don’t wanna waste anymore time.”

“But,” Fae glided her fingertips over his shaft, “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Erik’s dick twitched.

“I’ll cum in that mouth when we get back to your place. As many times as you want me to.”

Erik tucked his dick in his briefs. After securing his button and zipper, both of them exited the car. They slammed the doors in a rush, the sound echoing across the garage. Fae’s hand is still wet with spit and Erik walked with a wider stride because his dick was so hard. They entered the building and Erik had a hand around Fae’s waist.

When they entered the elevator, Erik gripped on Fae’s ass and gave it a few appreciative slaps. She smoothed her hand up and down his body, adding her nails into the mix. The doors opened onto the thirteenth floor and they walked out towards Fae’s door. Erik couldn’t keep his hands and lips to himself.

He watched Fae fumble with the keys. He paused to let her focus, but the way his dick throbbed like a heartbeat Erik couldn’t hold back much longer. The door opened and they stumbled inside before Erik slammed the door shut.

No Cordell. Deuce came bounding out from the back and Fae picked him up. Erik watched with a smirk, reaching out to rub Deuce. Fae excused herself to put Deuce in a room and Erik strolled around the living room before taking a seat on her sofa. He could hear Deuce barking and then shortly after Fae put on some music.

Erik swung his legs back and forth with his arms dangling over the back of the sofa. He was growing impatient. He needed her now. Cordell could be home any minute.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her impatiently.

“Coming!”

She was back and wearing just her panties and bra. She did a little twirl for him, biting her bottom lip. Erik stood up and made his way towards her. He shoved her playfully against the door and with both of her hands secured above her head, he kissed her with his tongue doing things in her mouth she couldn’t wait to feel on her clit.

“My dick hard,” Erik said with a raspy voice so close to her face his warm breath tickled her skin.

“Can I see?” Fae pushed her hips out towards Erik.

Erik released her arms.

“See,” Erik had his pants loose and he smoothed his briefs down, “boinggggg.” That dick popped out like a Jack-in-the-box.

Fae laughed, “Stupid,” She gripped him and twisted his length, “I didn’t suck it enough…”

“Get down there and suck it some more.” Erik replied.

She got down on her knees and Erik stepped out of his pants and shoes. Fae already had her lips wrapped around him. She bobbed her head and sucked him sloppy. Erik had her going crazy. She ate that dick up.

“There you go…mhm…you want this nut?”

“Mhm,” Fae locked eyes with him.

“How you like being on your knees for daddy?”

“Mm,” Fae twisted her hand on his shaft like a pepper grinder while sucking the rest. Her chest was covered in saliva.

She popped her lips off and jerked him faster, staring up at him to see his reaction. Erik scooped up Fae’s braids into a ponytail and forced her head towards his dick so she could suck some more.

“Get my dick back in that mouth…yes, just like that…just like that…Fae…here it comes—”

She continued to suck and each time her lips milked him. Erik squeezed his eyes shut and frowned his face in ecstasy. She cleaned him off with her tongue and when she finished, Erik picked her up and Fae wrapped her legs around his waist. With her in his arms, they walked over towards the sofa and Erik put Fae down.

He removed his shirt and jacket. Fae took off her bra and panties. Both of them were fully naked. Fae got on her knees and turned her back towards Erik. He crouched down behind her and spread her cheeks. Fae grabbed onto the back of the sofa and arched her back.

“Spread your legs some more…prop your knees up…perfect,” Erik admired her beautiful holes, “Been fucked in the ass before?”

He circled her back door entrance with his thumb. Fae’s body shivered.

“No. I haven’t tried anal.”

“…would you be down for that sometime?”

Fae tapped her fingers against the couch, thinking about it.

“Sure. Why the fuck not?”

They both laughed.

“You’ll love it trust me…just like you love it when I do this…”

Erik buried his face in her pussy from behind and sucked on her clit. His thick fingers sank into the flesh of her backside to keep her spread for better access. Fae moaned with her face buried into the sofa.

His tongue flicked her clit and then over the shape of her labia. His third leg sat on the couch, spasming and leaking pre cum. He couldn’t wait to fuck her. He loved the way she tasted. He loved that his dick and balls were all over her furniture. He wanted Cordell to walk in and find them like this—Erik’s tongue so far up her coochie and moaning his name.

“Mmmm fuck!”

Erik spelled his name on that pussy with his tongue and Fae came undone in his mouth. He slapped her ass and rubbed her clit with his thumb while kissing up her spine. His lips covered her tattoos all the way up until he was pressed against her ass.

“You want it like this?” Erik spoke with a whisper against Fae’s ear. He rubbed her pussy from behind with his fingers, “You want this raw dick?”

Fae gasped. She did. She really did. He could tell from the look in her eyes and her body language. He needed to be in that pussy without a condom.

“Uh-huh,” Fae said with a bite of her lip.

“Come on,” Erik helped her up from the couch. They grabbed their things and Fae led the way to her room, “Is he coming home tonight?”

“Probably not. But I’ll check to make sure. It is pretty late.”

“Yeah, do that. I’m tryna be in that pussy all over this apartment. Leave my mark in that shit.”

Finally in her room, Erik sat his clothes down on a chair and grabbed his phone. He sat on Fae’s bed with no care that the side he sat his naked ass and dick on could be the side Cordell slept on. Fuck that nigga.

Fae climbed onto the bed on her knees and sat up while looking through her phone.

“New bloodwork and other testing,” She showed Erik her lab results, “This was done about two months ago. I promise.”

“I believe you. This is mine,” Erik showed Fae his medical history. He had his done about a month ago during a physical, “Every three months for me.”

“He sent me a text about an hour ago. He’s not coming back because he’s been drinking. Wanna bet he’s over that bitch house?”

“You know he is,” Erik said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Fuck him. It’s all about me and you right now. I’m tryna make you cum in this bed, girl.”

Erik grabbed Fae and tackled her. They kissed and rolled all around on the bed. Erik nibbled on her neck and Fae giggled because she was ticklish. His teeth and lips covered her entire body and now he was doing the same to her ankles and toes.

“The way you were toting that pistol tonight turned me on, girl.” Erik said with a smile.

“For real?! That was you.”

“Nah, baby. It’s something about how gentle and kind and beautiful you are. You’re confidence is sexy, baby. Did you see how confident you were at the range?! Baby…”

Erik kissed down her legs until he was right in between again.

“If I could live between your thighs with my mouth on this pussy all day I would.”

Fae couldn’t stop blushing. Erik pushed her thighs back and his mouth was back on that pussy again. He took foreplay seriously. It was very important to him. The anticipation before the sex. He enjoyed kissing and oral sex for as long as he could stand it.

“I’m about to suck on this pussy again, okay?”

“Erikkkkk,” Fae ran her fingers through his locs.

“This my pussy.”

“Yes!”

“I know it is…pussy tastes so good, baby…”

His tongue flicked her clit and Fae’s hips levitated from the bed. The more she tried to run, the more Erik would put that pussy in his mouth and keep her locked in.

“You’re making me cum,” Fae whines, “Erik!”

He loved it when she said that. He staying on that pussy until she was finished shaking.

“Good girl,” Erik sat up and kissed her pussy, “stay just like this. I’m fucking you like this.”

Still spread apart, Erik pushed Fae’s legs back so that her lower half is raised from the bed. Erik’s hands are beneath her knees, keeping her locked in that position. Erik’s dick aimed straight for her opening and with just his hips, he thrust deep and slow. Fae’s body is pliant so it was easy for Erik to manipulate her legs so far back that he was grabbing her ankles.

“Oh, FUCK.”

Her pussy felt amazing wrapped around his dick. It was warm and soft and snug. Each time he withdrew his hips to the tip, her pussy yanked like she didn’t want him to go. It didn’t take long for him to make it cream.

“Oh, shit,” Fae watched his dick go in and out with a dazed expression, “ahhh—haahhh—”

Erik couldn’t look away. Her pussy eating his dick up, his dick fucking her, her clit poked out, her creamy pussy making a mess on his big dick, her titties with hard nipples pointed straight out, her mouth hanging open, that stuck expression on her face from how good that shit felt. All of it.

“Can’t run from this dick now,” Erik picked up the pace of his hips, “Got you right where I want you…”

“Ahhhh—Unh—hhhhunnnhuuuu—”

Fae’s bed was on a platform. Erik let one of his legs off the bed so he could stand while the other stayed on the bed. He got in that pussy from a different angle. Fae’s body was sideways and pile drives his dick in her pussy deep with ball-slapping strokes.

He had that bed bouncing and the springs making music. One of her ankles lifted to his shoulder and he could smell a fruity, scented oil on the delicate skin there. Erik buried his nose in it and inhaled.

“I—I’m cumingggggggggggg.”

Fae clawed Erik’s chest as she climaxed.

“Fuuuuck, yes, yes, daddy!”

Erik stayed buried inside of her while his lips sucked on her nipples. He released her legs so that she could stretch them.

“First time for everything, yeah?” Erik whispered to Fae, “I ain’t know you were flexible.”

“I used to dance,” Fae replied with a weak voice.

Erik pulled out and slapped his dick on Fae’s clit heavy.

“You need a minute?”

Fae sat up on her side and whimpered. Erik rubbed her body in all the sore areas. He had her folded in half. That definitely was a first for her. Her pussy was sore but she wanted more. Pussy was still wet, Erik had that effect on her. Fae spread her legs and couldn’t believe the amount of pussy juice she saw.

What she couldn’t get over and what she would be dreaming about is that dick. The feeling of his raw dick in her pussy made her walls tingle and her body shiver. Pussy was so wet on that big dick. Fae climbed off of the bed and she got down on her knees again. She grabbed his dick and started licking him clean.

Erik stared down at her with his locs almost shielding his eyes. The sweat on his chest and abs glistened beneath the yellow hue of her bedroom lights. Fae sucked him clean and Erik placed his hand on the base of her head, pushing forward.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

“Mhm,” Fae licked her lips and stood up on wobbly legs.

Erik lifted her chin with his finger and sucked on her bottom lip. Fae closed her eyes and allowed Erik to take control. Their lips released with wet smacking and he rubbed her chin with his thumb to clean up the spit.

Fae was back on the bed again and she arched her back for Erik. He got behind her on his knees and grabbed Fae’s wrist, pinning it behind her back. His wide tip found her wet hole again and he was right back in that pussy. Her walls convulsed and it caused him to sank deeper. Erik’s other hand secured around Fae’s neck from behind.

“Damn, this pussy deep.”

Fae’s ass bounced off of Erik’s crotch with precision. Her hips snapped forward sharply and all she could do was cry into the sheets. Literal tears rolled down her cheeks and spit seeped from her mouth creating a wet puddle.

“Oh my goodness! It’s right on my spot!”

“You’re still daddy’s little waterfall? Hmm? I want you to leak all over this dick.” Erik commanded.

“I can’t hold it,” Fae’s eyes crossed, “Fuccccck!”

She could feel herself squirting on his dick and she couldn’t stop. Her stomach tightened with her release and her toes curled.

“Oooooo,” Erik moaned, “Good pussy, bitch.”

Loud clapping noises bounced off of the walls. Erik let go of Fae’s neck and she turned her head to look back at him. Their eyes connected and all she could see was this strong, muscular man with beautiful skin and wild locs with gold in his mouth around his neck. He looked so primal fucking her.

“Fae, I can’t hold it,” Erik gripped her shoulders and plowed her, “Open up that fuckin’ pussy!” He said through clenched teeth.

“Oh—”

He pulled out and spurt after spurt of his cum landed on Fae’s back and ass. Fae turned around and licked him clean again. She was sucking on his balls while Erik couldn’t keep his eyes off of his cum on her tattoo-covered back.

“You’re a work of art,” Erik said between breaths.

Fae smiled at Erik and puckered her lips for a kiss. Erik pecked her lips a few times before he tongued her down.

“We should shower.”

“Yeah,” Erik got off of the bed, “Do you have some water?”

“It’s in the fridge if you want it cold and in the pantry if you prefer room temperature.”

Erik exited the room while Fae walked into her bathroom. She put her braids up into a bun and turned on her shower. Erik returned with two cold water bottles. Rihanna-Kiss It Better started playing on Fae’s Echo.

Erik walked into Fae’s bathroom and she was already in the shower rinsing her body off. He slid the glass door open and slipped inside carefully. Fae handed him a clean rag and some lavender-scented body wash. Erik swapped places with Fae to get his body wet and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. Her eyes roamed his body until she noticed a scar on his side.

Fae stroked it delicately and Erik jerked away. She withdrew her hand quickly and looked up into Erik’s eyes. He blinked at her and then his eyes fell to where she touched him. Now that Fae was focused, she noticed several scars on his body.

“I’m sorry,” She looked away.

“It’s okay.”

Fae chanced another glance at Erik. He was covered in soap.

“What happened to you?”

Erik’s locs were pressed against his forehead and dripping water. He stared at her intensely. Fae could feel butterflies in her belly.

“Doing my job. I was defending someone and took a knife.”

“Wow…Does it still hurt?”

“A little. It was pretty deep…”

Fae’s big brown eyes were sensitive as she studied his scar again.

“Can I touch it?”

Erik slowly nodded his head. He turned sideways and raised his arm. Fae placed her fingertips along the length of the scar tissue and Erik didn’t take his eyes away from her. Fae crouched down and what she did next shocked Erik. Her plump lips so soft and smooth pressed against his scar. Erik tilted his head at her and his eyelids fluttered shut. It felt good to him.

Fae kisses him there again. Her lips moved on to another scar. This one wasn’t as large as the first but she gave it the same amount of attention. Erik bites his bottom lip. He turned around to face her and Fae kissed any other scar she could find. The water from the shower head trickled down his body and dripped from his dick. Fae looked up at him through her lashes.

“Did that feel good?”

“Yeah…”

“I love your scars,” Fae sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, “they’re sexy.”

“Thank you.” Erik smirked.

Fae kissed along his dick and Erik extended his head back.

“Damn, Fae,” Erik bounced his dick in her face, “You gon’ make me fuck you again.”

“Not in the shower,” Fae laughs, “I don’t wanna fall.”

“Aight,” Erik helped her to her feet and Fae almost slipped, “Yeah, definitely not in the shower.”

They helped each other wash their backs and after one final rinse they left the shower still soaking wet. Erik surprised Fae by lifting her to sit on the edge of the sink. Bodies still soaking wet, Erik spread Fae’s legs and raised her right leg so that her ankle dangled over his shoulder and gripped her left leg beneath her knee. He twisted her hips and rubbed her clit.

“Pretty pussy wet as fuck…”

Erik slid two fingers inside. He curled his finger and stroked her pussy with his digits. It didn’t take long for her to cream.

“Fae, I’m addicted to your pussy…”

He had her pussy making noise.

“That pussy talking…she talking…”

“Yes,” Fae gripped the edge of the sink, “Daddy, fuck.”

“Fuck you?”

Erik flicked his tongue along Fae’s bottom lip. She sucked on his tongue and moaned against his lips when he rubbed her clit with those same fingers.

“Tell daddy what you want, mamas…”

“Fuck me….”

Erik dipped his hips and pushed his dick back inside like it never left. Fae’s head dropped forward and Erik had her by her thighs. He was fucking her alright. Dick hitting that pussy with long strokes. Their foggy reflection in the mirror behind them created the perfect scenery.

The sensation of Erik’s dick inside of her Fae couldn’t even put into words. Erik’s wet locs flung water all over her body from the motion. His eyes were so intense staring at her. Fae couldn’t look because it was too much.

“Baby,” Fae gripped Erik’s shoulders, “E!”

“Cum on this fuckin’ dick.” Erik ordered through clenched teeth.

“A ahh hmmmm,” Fae buried her face into Erik’s chest. Her body stiffened in his grip.

Erik kissed her on her shoulder and then he pressed his nose against her skin. He gently slipped out of her warm hole and helped her put her legs down.

“I’m gonna be so sore in the morning.” Fae said.

Back in the room, they rubbed down with some scented body oil and Erik was back inside of her pussy. Fae didn’t see it coming. She was halfway lying on her stomach and Erik dragged her towards the edge of the bed. He propped one leg up and thrust between her pussy lips from behind. Fae gripped the sheets and her body was so weak that she couldn’t even move.

“You love my pussy, daddy?” Fae asked with a hushed voice.

“I love this pussy…and I—”

“What—”

Fae looked back at Erik.

“Daddy?”

“Fuck—”

Erik pulled out and Fae sat up quickly so she could catch it in her mouth. Some of it landed on her cheek but the rest was down her throat. Fae cleaned her cheek off and smiled at Erik. He returned the smile but his eyes were holding so much unspoken emotion.

He put on his briefs and pants, “I’ll be back. I’m gonna change and put on something more comfortable.”

Fae climbed off of her bed, “Okay. Erik, is everything okay?”

“For sure,” He looked her up and down and gave her a small smile, “Is he really not coming back tonight? I don’t wanna cause any problems—”

“He said he wasn’t but…maybe I can sleep over your place instead?”

Erik looked away in deep thought while he shook his head to get his locs out of his face.

“Nah, I think you should stay here for the night. We gotta be discreet, right?”

“True,” Fae’s shoulders slumped, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Erik kissed her lips, “Wanna walk me to the door?”

“Of course.”

Fae grabbed her favorite grey robe and slipped it on. She made sure Erik didn’t leave anything behind. She walked him out towards the front door and Erik grabbed his jacket.

“Tonight was amazing, Fae. I mean it. I had the best damn time with you. I wanna do it again soon. You know I gotta leave for work...”

His eyes bore into hers. Fae didn’t know what shifted, but Erik was definitely feeling some type of way. Everything was going great.

“Thank you for everything. The date, the dick…”

Erik raised a brow and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Thank you for taking my mind off of Cordell.”

Erik gave Fae a lopsided grin.

“You’re welcome, baby girl. Can I get a goodbye kiss?”

Fae pressed her body against Erik’s and he grasped her chin. His lips molded with hers and he slipped her some tongue before pulling away. Fae went in for another one but Erik opened the door, exiting the apartment. He blew her a quick kiss before shutting the door behind him.

“What was that about?”

Fae pressed her fingers to her lips and her back against the door.

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @bellleame @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodicheauxxlovesfood @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @90sisthenew80s @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah @queenfaithmarie @soulfulbeauty19 @asweet-serendipity @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #SoundCloud #Spotify

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sinsandsweetness · 10 months

Note

Wellllllll…… I just read one Rec from someone and holy. Stepdad Rick isn’t my thing but still hot. I was thinking what if it was Shane instead. Or Daryl. Sneaking around behind Rick’s back. But ugh, Rick is so hot tho. Decisions decisions. More like Dad’s best friend maybe?

now that’s hot as hell. Idk who Dad would be but best friend trope could work for any combination possible I would think… (all of them!? 🙈 short of a orgy, I can’t see either Dixon putting up with Shane even for something like that but hey)

been thinking about this every hour since it appeared in my inbox… (Shane is my guilty pleasure fr. would let him do disgusting things to me)

I think I’m seeing your vision… lemme know what you think💗

PICK YOUR POISON

(Rick & Shane & Daryl x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, smut, alcohol consumption, smoking, references of sex, multiple partners, the boys are kinda pervs but it’s ok cause ur legal and this is fiction <3 2.1k word count

You open the door to the garage and make your way down the stairs. Not even bothering to slip any shoes on. Your mom keeps the epoxy floors absolutely pristine, so there’s really no reason. Plus, your toenail polish is still a little tacky. Bright, bubble gum pink polish and a silver toe ring adorning your foot. The smell of liquor and smoke has filled the garage. Accompanied by the deep, rugged voices and dry laughs coming from your fathers closest friends.

“You know mom hates it when you smoke in the house.” You say all matter of fact, leaning up against the bar-tops, marble counter. You can feel your tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. But the animalistic looks coming from your dads three closest friends, force you to let it drop. To let them see.

Your father puts his cigarette out in the ash tray on the bar. Rolling his eyes at you. “Well good thing we’re in the garage then.”

You ignore his attitude.

“Mom needs you.”

“For what?”

“To drop her off at Cindy’s.”

He seems irritated. But all five of you can hear the rain. There’s no way any half decent husband should let his wife walk to her monthly book club meeting in this weather.

“Just- keep your mouth shut about the smokes. And grab everyone another drink. Make sure they don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You father jokes, ruffling up Daryl’s hair on his way to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

You wave an innocent goodbye as you watch him through the garage door windows, backing out of the driveway. Your mother in the passenger seat, smiling sweetly at you.

“Well… whatcha drinkin’?” You ask Rick, who’s sat in the middle. Glass empty, with a lone, melting ice cube clinking around in the bottom.

“Rum and coke.” He answers, licking his lips.

“Spiced?” You ask. A flirty smile playing on your face as you bite your bottom lip.

They’re all staring. Jaws clenched and breathing slowly.

You know what you’re doing. You can tell by the way they’re all looking at you. You can practically see the wheels turning in their brains.

They shouldn’t be thinking this way about their friends daughter. About their best friends little girl. Well… not so little anymore. You’d just turned 21. Hell, they were at the party. Giving you the exact same looks they’re giving you right now.

The ones they definitely shouldn’t be.

But they are.

They’re thinking about your thin, frilly, pyjama shorts, and how they can see the purple g string pulled up over your hips. How they can see your belly ring through the fabric of your tank top, and imagining what it would feel like against their lips as they kiss their way down your stomach. And you know they’re thinking about bending you over the bar counter and taking turns at fucking you until they hear the sound of your dads diesel pulling into the driveway. How you’d have to play pretend for your father, ignoring the fact that your panties are soaking through with three different men’s cum, and maybe even a mix of your own. The salty liquids threatening to drip down your inner thigh as you politely excuse yourself from the garage. Coming up with any bullshit excuse to go lay on your bed and rub your clit until you’re seeing stars. Imagining each of their faces in between your legs, spreading you open and eating you up.

You know they’re thinking it, because you are too. It’s the only thing you can think about in this moment, while pouring Rick a double spiced rum and coke. Taking a sip and then handing it him. Making sure your fingers touch.

When you turn to ask Shane what he wants, he gets up. Insisting that you won’t know how to make an old fashioned. You only just turned 21 after all. You probably haven’t even had one before.

But he’s wrong. They’re your dads favourite and you’d been making them for him since you were 16. But you didn’t tell Shane that. Instead you let him walk around the bar, come up behind you and press himself against your back. Letting a tiny gasp escape at the feeling of his, very hard, cock pressing into your bum. Pushing you even further against the counter. His chest is warm against you. And his hands are big and calloused as he guides your own, pouring the perfect amount of bitters, simple syrup and bourbon over a huge, king sized ice cube that he’d retrieved from the freezer.

Finally, taking a slice of orange, meticulously cut up and organized in little containers on the bar top. It was something your mother was always very fond of; organizing the liquors and the garnishes, ensuring that your father could host a proper poker night or barbecue. Or whatever the fuck they stayed up all night doing in their little man cave. Not knowing that you were upstairs, awake and playing with your favourite vibrator, listening to their rock music through your bedroom floor.

“And then you twist it, like this…” Shane’s lips are actually brushing your ear. And you don’t mean to, but your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. His free hand moves to your waist as he tosses the orange peel in the drink, lifting it up and bringing the cold glass to your lips.

“Try it.” He says. And though you can’t see him because he’s still behind you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You take a sip. A small one. Immediately scrunching your face at the two men still sitting across you. Their lips curl into an amused smile as they watch you swallow the amber liquid.

“Not my favourite.” You whisper as Shane leans back. Only for a second before he’s turned you around and trapped you once more, back to the bar this time.

“Well we did forget one thing,” He says, reaching over to a jar on the counter. Maraschino cherries. Your favourite.

“And I know how much you like these.” He teases, referring to all the cherries he caught you adding to your piña coladas at a neighbors pool party only a couple weeks ago.

He dips a single cherry in the drink. Taking it by the stem and lifting it to your mouth. You don’t hesitate in wrapping your lips around it. The bitter taste of the bourbon on the fruit doesn’t last long. A sweet, sugary syrup bleeds over your tastebuds as you bite into the cherry. And a moan manages to escape your throat. It’s quiet. You think maybe it was subtle enough to go unnoticed. But the smile on Shane’s lips and the dry laugh coming from behind you, tell you that it didn’t.

Shane is still pushed up against you, cock strained in his jeans and pressed right against your stomach. His hand gripping your hip and forcing you to stay against the counter. And the way he’s looking down at you. Fuck, the way they’re all looking at you. Watching you start to squirm under their gaze.

“It’s good.” You swallow. Trying to maintain a confident, big girl attitude. But truthfully, you just want them to peel your clothes off, and let you melt into their arms as you cum all over their cocks.

“Daryl’s drink is still empty, sweetheart.” Rick’s gravelly voice pulls you back.

“Right.”

Shane gives your hip one last squeeze before he walks back to his barstool. Next to Rick. They cheers quietly and sip on their drinks. Watching intently as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s your poison?” You turn to the last man, lighting what was probably his second or third cigarette of the night. Glancing up at you and taking a draw. Slowly inhaling and exhaling. And though your mother was not a fan, you fucking loved it. You wanted to crawl onto his lap and have him blow the smoke right between your lips as you rode his cock, letting the other two men watch and touch themselves to the sight of you getting off on another guy.

But you didn’t.

“Just a beer, sunshine.” He pushes his empty glass forward for you. You grab it and put it in the dishwasher. Grabbing a brand new, frosted mug from the freezer.

“Which one?”

“Bud’s fine.”

You grab a bottle and skillfully pour it into the mug, coming around the bar this time to hand it to him. Intentionally placing yourself between him and Rick, reaching over and setting the glass in front of him.

To no one’s surprise, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Rick’s fingers tracing dangerously close to the thin band of your panties.

“Those are really bad for you, y’know.”

You get bold again. Stepping onto the foot rest of Rick’s barstool, and taking a seat right on his lap. The hand on your back only helping guide you on to him. Quickly finding its way around your waist as you make yourself comfortable.

Daryl only grunts. Hiding a smile at your silly comment. He’d seen you smoke. Hell, he’d snuck out of multiple dinner parties to have one with you.

“You gonna share?” You ask.

Hesitantly he hands it over, and you take it with two fingers. Taking a long drag in and then turning to face Rick again, before you slowly exhale. Trying to focus the smoke onto his lips more than anything.

“What the hell would your father think if he could see you right now?” Shane asks, leaning back in his chair and palming the hard on, still evident in his jeans.

“Think he’d probably try and beat you’re asses.” You say. And while you’re answering Shane, your focus is solely on Rick. The scruff on his face. His bright blue eyes, taunting you and begging you to lean in. Just an inch closer so that he can catch your lips.

“Think he’d win?” Rick asks, glancing down at your own lips.

“Not a chance.” You smile.

He closes the space between you, and you taste rum on the tongue that traces yours. Rick’s hand going to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as you blindly try to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. You start to move. Trying to maneuver your position so that you’d have a leg on either side of him, straddling his very apparent bulge. But right as you start to moan against his mouth, you hear the truck pull up and park. Practically jumping off of Rick and standing in between him and Daryl’s barstools. Fixing your hair as the heat rises to your cheeks. The men chuckle at your flustered appearance. Waiting for their friend to enter through the side door of the garage.

“Hi dad.” You say, smiling politely and pulling your tank top down to cover the strip of skin visible where it had previously rode up.

“Hey, hun. Glad to see they weren’t too much trouble for ya.” You father aproaches and slaps a hand on Shane’s back. Sitting down next to him and grabbing the pack of smokes from his jacket pocket.

“Y’wannanother drink, daddy?” You ask. Daryl clears his throat. And you see Ricks eyes go wide as Shane tries to hide his smile.

“Please. Old fashioned, darling. Y’want some of that pink stuff we found last week? Bubbly… something or other. It’s in the fridge.”

You watch Shane the whole time that you make the old fashioned. Clearly showing him that you knew exactly how your dad liked it. Carefully placing the cocktail on the counter in front of them.

“Thanks doll.” Your dad says, continuing to smoke his cigarette. Reaching over the counter and handing one to Rick who lights it. Watching you the whole time. Tendrils of smoke, floating up to the ceiling of the garage. You turn around. Bending over and being sure to stay searching for the bottle of rosé about thirty seconds longer than you really needed to. You pour a glass as the men discuss what the next move was. What they should do for the night. Considering it’s still a work night, and they all have a supply run pretty early in the morning.

“You wanna play some cards, sweetie?” Your dad asks. You scrunch your nose at him, taking a nice long sip of your sparkling wine.

“What? You got somewhere better to be?” Shane teases.

You huff a semi-annoyed breath, looking around for a spare stool. Even though you already knew there were only 4. Ricks eyes glimmer as he pats his left thigh, inviting you back on.

To your surprise, your dad pays you no mind, already starting to shuffle the deck of cards as you hesitantly take your seat back on top of Rick. Loving the way his hand curls around your thighs and tugs you even further on top of him. And the the way that Shane looks a little jealous that he hadn’t offered first. And you’re especially loving the way Daryl shifts on his stool just the tiniest bit closer, so that his leg grazes yours every now and then.

“All right, here’s the rules…” You hear your dad starts to explain, already dealing you each some cards. But you don’t hear him. You don’t even look in his direction. You’re way too focused on the taste of Rick that lingers on your lips, and the way your clit is actually fucking pulsing. Begging for attention. And truthfully, your mind can’t help but wander, thinking about what might have happened if your dad had taken any longer to get back home.

part 2

(I’m picturing readers dad as Tobin in Alexandria. Someone like that at least. With a Carol-esque mother. But picture whoever you’d like! Just thought I’d share what I was kinda thinking…)

taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker

#rick grimes #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh smut #shane walsh fanfiction #smut #rickyl smut #rickyl x reader #dbf!rick #dbf!daryl #dbf!shane #dads best friend trope #pick your poison

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luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part one | part two | part three

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating. Eddie goes home, you’re on tour, and the lines between you both continue to blur.

fem!reader, enemies-to-lovers, rival rockstars, mutual pining, kisses! tender neck kisses <3, past miscommunication, angst, hurt-comfort, sexual tension, TW mentioned recreational drug use, drinking, smoking, swearing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1990

Eddie listens to his walkman until it runs out of juice. Through the flight from California to Indianapolis, the hours-long bus ride that stops just short of Hawkins, and the final connecting bus on the outskirts. Some metalheads listen to strictly metal, but Eddie likes variety occasionally. Plus, he doesn’t think it’s possible to have ears and not love The Rolling Stones’ Some Girls.

He has one girl on his mind the entire journey home. He tries not to think about you. He makes himself sick shoving you down into a crevice of his heart, so he admits defeat. His fingers twitch, eager to write about you. He has some lyrics in mind. Evil wretched girl with wicked sweet hands. Heart eater. Soft around the edges.

He wants to write about your stupid chubby thighs and how they look in skirts. He wants to write about your wrists, your knees and their ever-present bruises. Metaphors for your sickly sweetness won’t stick; cruel becomes kind. Taunting turns teasing.

It feels like it’s eating him alive, spine first. You’re gnawing on his ribs as he hikes the half a mile from the bus stop into Forest Hills trailer park. He can feel your thumb rubbing makeup off of his cheek as he drags his suitcase up the metal steps to Wayne’s —Eddie’s— front door.

“Wayne?” he calls. It’s pitch fucking dark. He’s surprised he got all the way here without falling in some ditch. “Could you let me in? It’s freezing.”

He hears stirring from inside. He calls out again in case his uncle changes his mind. “Wayne, it’s me. I’m sorry it’s late. Please don’t leave me out here.”

He’s joking. Wayne would sooner shoot Eddie dead than put him in harm's way. He’s always been that kind of parent, hiding his deep rooted worry underneath a feigned reluctance. Footsteps shuffle and floorboards creak. The door opens between them, and Eddie shoves his suitcase and backpack inside without properly looking at his old man.

“Eddie, what the fuck, kid?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking up. Wayne’s squinting at him. He’s wearing jeans with deep creases. He must’ve been sleeping in them. “I timed it all wrong. Started coming home and I didn’t think about it. I walked here, you know that?”

Wayne hugs him. Eddie isn’t expecting it. It’s not like Wayne isn’t affectionate, he doles out shoulder claps and hair ruffles like candy, but their hugs are usually one-armed back-slapping affairs. This is a loose encircling with a scratchy cheek against Eddie’s forehead.

“I’ve been worrying about you.”

Guilt sinks like a stone to the bottom of his stomach. Eddie kind of feels like he might puke. He wraps his arms around his uncle and breathes in his smell. Diesel and grease, sure, but so much louder than that is his mint and rosemary soap.

The weight of Wayne’s arms over Eddie’s shoulders is one of his favourite feelings. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it, but then… maybe he had.

He wants to tell Wayne there’s no need to worry, but he’s never been good at lying to him. “Think I might have fallen off the wagon, Wayne.”

“Well. Happens to all of us.” He pats Eddie’s back and steps away. He doesn’t look any older than the last time Eddie saw him. In fact, he looks good. Puffy-eyed but healthy. “I thought for sure I’d have to come track you down and drag you back for Christmas myself.”

Eddie locks the door and Wayne shuffles into the kitchen promising coffee and cake. He should protest, tell Wayne he can go back to bed and they’ll catch up in the morning, but he missed the small stuff like this, when he’d get home late from band practice or a midnight premiere of a sci-fi flick and his uncle would be sitting up waiting.

Eddie loves being home. There’s something to be said about living like the rich —he loves all the high ceilings and endless cushy carpeting— but nothing feels as good as coming home. His room is exactly how he left it minus a few ashtrays and his super unsecret pot stash. The poster wallpaper and the cheap paint. His raggedy bedspread and the corners tucked in haphazardly by tired hands. Eddie resists the want to dive under the covers and slide into the dip in his mattress. He knows every box spring in that fucker, and he missed it.

Eddie drops his bags at the end of the bed. All the clothes in his suitcase smell like Coors Light, so he changes into rags he left behind, a too-big pair of plaid pyjamas that slip down his hips and a sleeveless Motörhead shirt. Maybe. The emblem is worn to nothing but black lines.

He follows the smell of coffee through the hallway and into the Munson kitchen, tightening the drawstrings of his pants as he goes, chin tucked to his chest. “I’m losing weight, Wayne, I’m like a fucking twig.”

“Don’t tell me that shit. God knows I taught you how to take care of yourself.”

“I’m stupid. I’m really stupid, actually.”

Wayne whacks the coffee maker. It whirs. “Pick a mug, son.”

“You been cleaning? I don’t wanna look down and see a spider in my cup.”

“Have you been cleaning?” Wayne asks.

“It’s insane how much I haven’t been cleaning.”

“Some things don’t change.”

“You fucker,” Eddie says, laughing up a storm as he picks out his favourite mug, the Garfield one with a big scratch down the left side.

“You fucker,” Wayne snaps back. “I should send you packing for the bad language alone.”

“They don’t make you clean your hotel rooms, Wayne, that’s the point of them.”

“I raised you better than that.”

“You did. I keep it classy, I swear, I just,” —Eddie sits down in his chair, watching Wayne stir in milk and sugar just the way he likes it, and feels more than sees as a familiar contentedness like a Gaussian film settles over their easy conversation— “don’t clean up after Gareth. He’s a monster.”

“Do me a favour, Eds. Try and be the best you can be, alright?”

He swallows. He purses his lips. A peculiar lump grows in his throat, but he bites it back and squares himself up. “Yeah. I will.” He thinks about all the parties and powders and girls. He’s never done any cruel shit to anybody and he’s a sweetheart with the ladies, but there are times when he’d known he was lying before he even said he’d call. He thinks about some of the shit he’s said to you and has to wipe his sweaty palms off on his shirt.

“I know we didn’t have shit when you were growing up,” Wayne says, not tearful or resentful, just honest as he passes Eddie his mug of coffee and sits down. “And all that money must feel good–”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie says.

“When I see my nephew on TV smashing up equipment worth more than his house–”

“I already told you on the phone it was an accident. And it wouldn’t be worth more than this if you actually cashed the cheques I send you. I know they aren’t bouncing.”

“I don’t want your money, Eddie,” Wayne says gently. It’s odd but not uncommon to hear him speak in such dulcet tones. “That’s not what I raised you for.”

“I know, you–” He cuts his insult off at the stem and scratches his head instead.

Eddie isn’t hankering for a tongue lashing tonight and his scalp is too itchy to focus. He hasn’t washed his hair in a week. It’s obvious just looking at him, curls weighed down and straightened out from the sheer grossness of it. “Shit, I’m disgusting,” he says.

“You’re gross,” Wayne agrees. “I’ll cash a cheque when the bank opens and get you a bottle of degreaser.”

Eddie hides his smile with a long sip of coffee. It’s hot and awful, ‘cause no matter how much love Wayne puts into it, dollar store coffee tastes like burnt grounds from the get go. Eddie missed it more than anything. Sometimes he’s in the back of the queasy tour bus or lying on the floor in his hotel room coming down off of something risky and all he can think about is Wayne’s coffee.

Wayne has a hard and fast rule about drugs: if it isn’t green, I don’t want you touching it. Eddie still remembers the gasket he blew when he found that little baggy of red and white pills shoved inside an altoids tin. He can’t imagine telling his uncle what he really meant when he said he fell off the wagon.

Hey, Uncle Wayne, I have this weird love-hate relationship with a girl I don’t really know, and I got caught up doing party drugs (unrelated to our relationship) until I got so high I blacked out, and when I woke up she was there and she was looking at me like you look at a bird with a broken wing, you know? Anyway, the memory of her face won’t leave me alone. It makes me feel like crying. So I haven’t touched anything in two weeks and I thought coming home for Christmas would make up for all the secrets I’m keeping, but now—

Now Eddie doesn’t know what he was thinking. He can’t tell Wayne any of that shit. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

Wayne would ask something like, It took a girl for you to realise drugs are bad news? And Eddie would say back, No, that’s not it, it wasn’t just her.

“I’m sooooo fucked,” Eddie says slowly, mildly, scrubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He drags his hands down his face and blinks against the burning he’s left in his wake.

“You’re not fucked, kid. Lemme cut you a slice of cake.”

Wayne cuts him a slice of cranberry coffee cake and Eddie eats it in two bites. Wayne makes him a burger after that. He doesn’t know what time it is, if it’s closer to night or morning, but Wayne doesn’t mention it until the burger’s gone and an alarm clock is ringing. Eddie watches his uncle truck into the living room and feels crestfallen though he doesn’t deserve to. Eddie hasn’t been home in months. He imagines Wayne alone at the kitchen table with an empty greasy plate waiting on him and wants to cry again.

Wayne returns in coveralls. He gets a good look at Eddie’s face and sighs, dropping a heavy hand into Eddie’s dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” Wayne says.

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. For being a bad kid.

He’d said that once. Wayne was sweeping up a smashed plate after a long shift and Eddie, thirteen and defeated with an ache where his mom should’ve been, had been trying to apologise. It had felt so crushing, that broken plate. The last straw. He’d had tears running down his pale cheeks, his hands in his hoodie pocket desperately grabbing at one another.

And when he’d said it, Wayne had just looked at him. On his knees with a brush, glass shards shining on the linoleum between them.

You think you’re a bad kid?

Wayne isn’t old and he definitely hadn’t been back then. Thirty something with a crying teenager and what felt like all the world's self-loathing crammed into a tiny kitchen. Eddie’s older now, and he knows how much Wayne gave up for him. Not just his bedroom, which had been relinquished with little more than a shoulder squeeze and five dollars for posters, but a life. Wayne could’ve done anything. Could’ve been a rockstar.

I ruin everything, he’d said. Teenage angst, maybe, but Eddie felt it in his bones.

You ain’t ruined anything.

He hadn’t known what to say so he’d cried, waiting for that nice heavy hand that tussles his hair and pats his back to finally strike out.

Eds, you’re not a bad kid. Said so quietly. With a steadiness that meant truth. You’re my kid. Could I make a bad kid?

And yeah, there had been a threshold of sincerity and they were passing it. It was the late 70’s. Boys really didn’t cry. At least, not in public. So Eddie wiped his snotty nose in his sleeve and laughed, and then he got on his knees to clean up.

“Try and sleep,” Wayne says now, older but unchanged otherwise. Still ridiculously forgiving of his not-so-young sprog. He looks at Eddie with his lips pressed together. Eddie wonders if he’s going to hug him again, but Wayne shakes his head. “Shower, you animal. I’ll be back early.”

Eddie sleeps. He showers. He washes his hair three times and doesn’t use conditioner so his curls don’t really curl but it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. He had a moment in the shower where he swore he remembered something you said to him when he was blackout on sniff cut with procaine and booze. Your voice tentative, the heat of your hand on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He moans into his damp hands, limp hair hanging either side of his head and dripping into his pyjama pants. He can’t forgive his younger self for all the sleeveless shirts, not when Hawkins feels colder than the arctic circle and the window seal in the kitchen has been leaky for the last five years.

He thinks about going shopping, because no matter what Wayne says about degreaser, Eddie’s starting to realise that his uncle won’t be cashing any of the cheques he sent home, and if he wants Wayne taken care of he’s gonna have to do this shit himself, but he doesn’t know where his key is.

“I’m a fuck up,” he says, catching his eye in the mirror as he straightens out.

His reflection frowns at him.

He did manage to get Wayne some shit from California before he came home; a real brown leather jacket from the 60s with minimal wear, though if Wayne wears it is another thing entirely; a Roy Orbinson record that’s miraculously unwarped despite Eddie’s poor packing; more sweatshirts than his uncle could ever wear through. Eddie knows he’ll try.

There’s some other stuff. CD’s and a nice edition of War of the World’s. Whatever he could stuff in his backpack.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” you’d asked him.

He sat on the bottom step of a huge staircase and you the one above him. People walked around you without notice. Two rocks in a stream bed.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You aren’t sure?”

He’d got stuck looking at your cheek, the soft curve of it and the highest point, where light like a small star had kissed you and turned his stomach, that’s how sick with envy he was.

“I get it,” you’d said, “things at home aren’t always easy.”

“Not that. My Uncle Wayne is my hero.”

“And you still don’t wanna go home?” you’d asked gently.

“It’s not about what I want.” He remembers this part in detail. He’d stopped looking at you, laying back against the stairs, each step digging into his back. The ceiling had been far away.

You’d inched into his frame of view, looking down at him with an expression unreadable to his mixed up head. You weren't quite smiling. He still isn’t sure what it meant.

“It is. That’s the whole point,” you’d said.

Eddie’s all memory this morning. The ones with Wayne had felt less memory and more story, because memory is unfaithful, and over time we start to break down on the details, putting want in place of fact. But your face hovering above his as the soft strands of your hair ghost against his jaw, all your glitters and the shiny pink sheen on your lips, that’s closer. He remembers how you smelled, and how your tongue peeked out to wet your lips uselessly between words.

Jet lag and the general feeling of you keeps him lethargic, but he cleans the house (and he’s always said house, even if some people don’t agree, it houses him, fuck you Jenny P from eighth grade grade) and makes dinner ready for Wayne when he gets home. He puts the radio on and tunes into Roller FM. When one of Godless’ songs comes on, he’s not surprised. He listens with his head lolled against the kitchen wall, eyes closed, and tries not to think about your fingers choking the neck of your bass guitar.

—

Indy Rock Centre, Indianapolis, January 1991

Whoever arranged the tour is a sadist. You can’t believe that a team of professionals sat around a long glossy table with their coffee cups and finger foods and thought, yeah, that will work. You feel like you’re being fucking yo-yo’d between states.

When you’d joined godless as a stand in for Millyanna, your dates had been plentiful but never as disorganised. Nothing compares to this shit. You wonder if going crazy is a sign of making it big, or if maybe you’re not cut out for all of this after all.

Jan 22, Kalamazoo, Missouri. Jan 23, Toledo, Ohio. Jan 25, Los Angeles, California. Jan 26, Philadelphia; Jan 28, Indiana, Jan 29, Wisconsin. February? Back in Missouri, back in Ohio, a couple more state dates and then bam — Canada. Don’t worry though, after a week in Canada, you’ll never guess where you’re playing.

Fucking Florida.

At least you aren’t alone in your torture. For starters, there’s Morgan, your singer, and Ananya, your drummer, who will also endure and suffer. Then there’s the roadies, the techies and the groupies. The opening acts. The managers, the assistants, the personal assistants, the boyfriends and girlfriends and wives and mistresses.

And what’s more, you're one of the hundreds of bands touring in North America this year. Maybe thousands. You certainly aren’t the first musician to have to suck it up and tough it out.

Still, you like to complain.

It’s your right, for dealing with Morgan. And also— you aren’t getting paid for the tour until after the tour is over, so really complaining is the wealth of the soul. You do get a weekly allowance, which is awesome and not something you were getting beforehand, working instead on an invoice. You’d play a show, you’d get paid for the show. This time you’re getting a flat rate at the end of the tour that’s been contractually agreed upon. It’s more money than you’ll ever know what to do with. One of the more shameful ways you waste time in your little bus bunk is trying to figure out where to put it.

I want a house, you think. A mortgage on a small, pretty house where the weather isn't too hot or too cold. And a puppy. Probably. Maybe a fish tank. I want a bed that spans from one wall to another and…

You wince. For a moment, you’d seen something stupid, a pale face hidden in the pillow across the way.

Two puppies, you think forcefully.

You’ve played four shows already this week. You have one tonight in Indy Rock Centre, and another tomorrow in Wisconsin. You got to stay in the warm, non-vibrating luxury of a hotel room last night, but tonight you have to play the show and get straight back on the bus.

“You’re gonna glare holes in her. What did she do?”

You stop your mindless staring and come back down to earth. Ananya’s smiling at you, thick eyebrows lifted in wait for your answering gossip. You’d been staring at Morgan where she’s sitting across the room in a plush armchair, cucumbers over her eyes and swarmed by makeup artists and hairstylists with a pedicurist at her feet.

Ananya does all her make up herself. You want to ask her to do yours, but you worry her messy sweetness won’t suit you. She overlines her already big lips with a sticky red-pink, giving her an effect of having just been kissed (a lot), and rings brown eyes with a slick black kohl.

“She hasn’t done anything. Yet. Today.”

“She has been a monster, hasn’t she?” she asks, sinking down into the couch with a sigh. She flicks her hair over her shoulder. Her curls are so healthy they bounce.

You hum your agreement and slide down with her. Touring again, Ananya has remembered how much it sucks to be alone without allies. Morgan gets especially volatile from the stress and close quarters. She’s nicer when you’re alone.

She’ll still ditch you at a moment's notice, but you get it. It’s like high school.

You miss Dornie.

It’s cruel to make a friend and suddenly lose them. You can’t help thinking he won’t want to be your friend again the next time you see him. It had been so nice… so peaceful, to know there was someone in your corner. Dornie doesn’t care how famous you are or how much money you’re making. He just wanted to make sure you got home safe and talk about old movies.

“I’m gonna go find something to drink,” you say.

Ananya nods. “Bring me back a coke?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan stops you on your way out with a foot in front of your legs. “Hey, killer, I gave one of your passes to a fan earlier. Is that cool?”

“Morgan, when have you ever cared about my opinion?”

“Ooh, meow,” she croons, taking a cucumber from her eye to squint at you. “What’s the matter, baby? I figured you weren’t using them.”

You smile at her. You can’t help yourself. She stopped hurting your feelings a long time ago. “You want a drink from the machine?”

“Sparkling water, serf.”

If you smudge her nail polish on the way past it isn’t your fault. It isn’t cool with you that she’s given away one of your passes, even though you ask your general manager Angel to give them out at the beginning of the show every night. It’s presumptuous! Normal people don’t do stuff like that without asking.

Serf…

Your nose wrinkles. The dressing room door closes at your back and you take a moment to recall where you’d seen the bank of vending machines in the maze of white hallways. Indy Rock Centre is one of the biggest venues in Indianapolis, and you’ve been here before countless times on the other side to see Black Sabbath, Metallica, The Stacey’s, Doorway to Cooperstown. It’s where all the biggest and best get to play. You wish they’d given you a map.

You can still walk around without getting recognised. You’re not a superstar, just a guitarist. You smile at people who smile at you and avoid the rest, dodging past black polo shorts wheeling equipment and busybody higher ups barking orders. Someone stands in a corner talking on a brick of a handheld phone. You stare at him for a bit. You’ll never get used to it, phones without wires. Next there’ll be TVs without satellites and electric guitars without amps.

The vending machine shines like a red beacon at the end of the hallway. You hurry to it, feeding the machine your crumpled per diem one dollar at a time. You get a coke for Ananya, sparkling water for Morgan. When it gets to your own drink, the machine starts to revolt. It spits your dollar out unsympathetically. You pull it from the mouth and flatten it against your thigh.

It doesn’t work again. You nibble your bottom lip. Dollar pulled taut between your two hands, you lift your knee and rub it against your stockings.

“Fucking fuck,” you whisper, watching in mild horror as the machine accepts and then rejects your dollar for a third time.

You tuck it back into your purse, a pretty leather thing that clasps shut and fits perfectly in the small pocket of your jacket. It’s your luck, but whatever. They’ll probably bring a couple of bottles of water to the dressing room in a bit. Maybe even a cocktail bar.

“Hey.”

Your internal monologue chokes. You question your senses for the split second it takes you to meet his eyes — baby browns, soft and flush with gorgeously long lashes. If there’s one thing about Eddie Munson, it’s that he has very sweet eyes. Not the kind you can replicate in daydreams.

He’s dressed like a bitch. You’re so sick of him. He has his jacket tied around his waist and his shirt has no sleeves, the alarmingly shapely stretch of his arms on full display. Black ink climbs the hills and ridges of his stark veins, his herd of bats jumping as he offers you a dollar.

You take it. You aren’t sure what to say, so you bask in the almost-silence, every nerve aflame as you feed the vending machine and click the button for your drink. Equipment cages rattle. Radios chirp. Your drink thinks from behind the red Coca Cola panel down into the bottom of the machine for collection.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask finally, squatting to grab your drink.

You stand, train your eyes on the floor, shove your drink under your arm, and crack open your purse to give him your defective dollar in exchange. He takes it without fanfare.

“Are you busy?” he asks.

Regrettably, no. The majority of soundcheck is done, and the show doesn’t start for hours. He gestures to the left and you follow, stupidly, with no idea where he’s leading you to and not a clue what he wants, leaving Morgan and Ananya’s drinks for whoever finds them. Eddie’s jeans aren’t as loose on his hips as they were the last time you saw him. His distracting arms are bigger, biceps like a taunt as he holds a door open for you. You take a breath as you pass him, but he doesn’t smell like anything. No sweat or cologne, no cigarette smoke.

“Is it mean if I say you look good with clean hair?” you ask, squinting in the sudden brightness.

He’s led you outside to the back of the venue. Your tour bus stands imposing at the end of the lot, surrounded by Godless branded vans and fancy cars. A truck beeps as it loads into the receiving area backward.

“Probably.”

“You do, though. Look good.”

“So people tell me.”

Fuck, you think. Fuck it. If he’s gonna be weird about it then you’re pulling the olive branch back in and snapping it in half.

The sky is white as snow. It hurts to look at, the sun like a steaming egg yolk covered in its own whites, thick clouds shielding her warmth. You pull the sides of your jacket together and button up, uninterested in catching a cold when the next six months of your life are planned down to the hour. Eddie puts his jacket on and zips it tight.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks.

“Why?”

He pushes his hands into his pockets. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he felt self conscious. “Why not?” he asks.

You nod. You and Eddie aren’t friends, but you aren’t not friends, either. You’re being cold because you’re seized with embarrassment, not because he deserves it. You have memories of his hand on your cheek, and a cherry stem between his teeth, and you don’t know what you said exactly but you know it hadn’t been amicable small talk. You hate him for knowing stuff about you that you’d wanted to keep secret, and you hate yourself more for telling him in the first place.

“I came home for Christmas. I’m back in Los Angeles tomorrow night.”

“That’s convenient,” you say.

“Just had to see you before I went,” he agrees. Deadpan humour is terrifying on him.

He ducks under a low tree branch and holds it away from your face. Together, you begin to walk down the street and into the city, over patched sidewalks and past brand new stores. The mom and pop shops of your childhood are mostly gone.

Conversations between you two have this odd oscillation between over familiarity and stilted nothings. You like over familiarity better, when you’re both prone to misunderstandings. You’d take snipping at one another over this strange quiet.

“Is it nice? Being home?” he asks finally.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’ve been here for what, a month now? I just got here, and it wasn’t to see the ‘rents.”

Eddie lifts his chin to the sky a touch. Molasses of sunlight seep through the clouds now, racing to caress his waved hair and high cheekbones. “It’s been awesome,” he says, his eyes closed. His voice like tree bark, uneven but tough. “Makes me wonder what I liked about L.A. so much.”

“All the free stuff,” you offer. “And free girls.”

“The girls aren’t free,” he protests.

“You aren’t getting free girls?” you ask.

“Are you?”

“Would that bother you?”

Close-lipped, his tongue pokes the skin under his bottom lip.

“You think stuff like that bothers me?” he asks.

“It bothers some people.”

Eddie isn’t meeting your eyes consistently, but you don’t think he’s lying when he says, “No, it wouldn’t bother me. But my Uncle Wayne would fucking kill me if he heard me agree that the women are free.”

“How progressive.”

He visually bites back a laugh. He looks up from his shoes and sees you smiling and it breaks him, his laugh sputtering out in bits and pieces. “Shit, I’m just trying to be an okay person.”

You concede, “Fine, the girls aren’t free. They’re just very happy to sleep with you for very little reward.”

“Some might say the reward was, you know, pleasure–”

“Ew–”

“Don’t be childish. What did you want me to say? The reward is a long night of rough and tumble fucking–”

“I liked pleasure better,” you interject. You dance around a huge crack in the sidewalk and pause as you and Eddie reach a crossing. “All night? Really?”

“Want me to prove it?”

“I don’t think you could, Munson.”

“I could…” He rests his hand between your shoulder blades. “But I don’t think we’re there yet.”

He encourages you to cross the street, weaving and winding between parked cars, moving cyclists, and a small family bulldozing passers-bys with a twin stroller. When you’ve crossed to the other side uninjured, his hand falls away. The heat of his palm lingers.

“Good observation.”

“You’re sarcastic today. Or is being on the road making you cranky?”

“Being on the road is definitely making me cranky. It fucking sucks, I forgot how badly it sucks, and I don’t get paid day to day like I used to.”

“Oh, you’re getting a flat rate now? Go you, superstar.” Your walk is more of a crawl, the two of you turned to the left side of the street where children shriek and giggle in the outdoor seating of a restaurant. Eddie stops. “How’s the allowance?”

“You get one of those too?”

Eddie bumps his elbow into yours. “We’re kids. They know it. It’s pretty shitty considering how much money they make off of us in the end, but that’s an asshole thing to say, right? We’re lucky.”

You roll your shoulders. He’s more than right. Coming from nothing, a small town, with no college degree and no rich parents to float you, Eddie’s right. You might have talent and you might work hard but so do a lot of other people, and you’re here, and they’re working for minimum wage back home still hoping.

You wish every kid like you could get to where you are, but they won’t. You’re more than lucky. You should buy a scratcher.

“We’re fucking lucky,” Eddie says slowly. “And it’s awful anyways.” He grins. “Come to dinner with me?”

You blink. “What?”

“Dinner? I’ve been there before,” —he points to the restaurant you’d stopped across from— “and it’s nice.”

You’re insane and you agree. It’s not too fancy to feel like you’re on a date from the outside, and once you’re indoors you feel relaxed. With a glass of cider in your hands you feel positively giddy.

Eddie slouches back into a velvet booth seat that might’ve once been red. He keeps the jacket on and you’re grateful for it, lest you see his stupid nice arms and turn ditzy. His nose twitches as looks out over the restaurant floor toward the kitchen visible through a long window. It’s warm but not stuffy in here, the air fragrant with browning butter and minced garlic.

The menus are sticky. You pretend to pour over one, not knowing what to say to break the silence.

“I know I said you were being sarcastic,” Eddie says, “but I think I meant quiet. Even when you sound annoyed, I can barely hear you.”

“That’s dramatic,” you murmur, proving his point.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, in what way?”

“What way feels wrong to you?” he asks.

Trapped. You sip your cold cider. He raps his knuckles against the table. “Come on, what have you got to lose? What did you say to me before?” His eyes soften. “Nobody would believe me if I told them.”

You tap your glass with your thumbnail.

“I’m okay,” you say honestly. “Most of the time, I feel fine. Or, I forget what’s wrong.”

Eddie flicks his own glass. “Is this about feeling like nothing?”

“I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I have one of those faces.”

“And you were feeding me booze.”

“Don’t say that. You make it sound so shitty.”

“It wasn’t shitty,” you say. “Free drinks, right? What’s shitty about letting a pretty guy pay for you?”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

You kick him under the table. You don’t know what comes over you, shy at your own honesty and irritated with his ridiculousness. I let you kiss me, you want to say. I’d let you do worse. Of course I think you’re pretty. You aren’t cruel — it’s more of a shove with the toe of your shoe. Eddie laughs through a gasp and kicks you back, heel of his converse flat to your calf.

“You fucking–”

“Sweetheart?” he finishes.

“No, fuck you. You string me around with your hot and cold act and now you’re coming to my shows taking me to dinner,” —your voice stiffens, thickens, as you glare at him from across the table— “asking me how I’m doing? And I’m the one who has to explain themselves? You tell me, Munson. Do I think that you’re pretty?”

Eddie’s sort of frozen, like a laugh got stuck in his throat and he really is surprised by your sudden anger. You might feel surprised yourself if you had the wherewithal. As it stands, your irritation and your want for an answer is too much.

He hits the toe of his shoe into yours. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry. I’m not… trying to string you around.”

He doesn’t say anything else. You deflate, ashamed of your sudden outburst. Tired of all the games.

“I think you’re pretty,” he says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

The food arrives and saves him. You want him to explain —you want him to expand, needily, on what he means and how much he means it— and he clearly doesn’t. He grabs his fork and starts shovelling pasta into his mouth like it’ll magically turn the conversation to something more palatable for him.

“I’d like to change my answer,” you say.

Eddie swallows harshly. “Can’t. All compliments have been locked in. Maybe at our next cat fight.”

—

Eddie’s heart isn’t pounding like he worried it might when he asked you to follow him into the bathroom. He pictured sweaty, shaking palms, his hands hesitant, a reminiscent picture of a past self who didn’t know how to make girls make noise. He thought the next time he was alone with you, it would be the tragic scene from the movies where the boy bears his heart and the girl can’t accept it. He’s not expecting you to understand. It’s getting to the point where the mean shit he said to you isn’t made up of words anymore but the image of you in the Prover Theatre with your sparkling dress and your dull eyes. He hates that he made you feel that way, and he should say sorry. He feels fucking sorry.

“Don’t cut me,” you say, quiet so you won’t be caught together.

“I won’t.”

“When was the last time you did this?”

“It’s like riding a bike,” he insists. “I haven’t forgotten.”

You simper. Propped up on the sink’s counter, your skirt hiking up your thighs (imagine him covering his face with his hands, rocking his head from side to side, you’re wearing garters) and your jacket falling into the basin. You’ve turned one arm toward him trustingly, but apprehension plays clear as day over your mouth. He wants to remark that your mouth is pretty, but it’s not the right word. Perfect feels closer, but again, it’s not what he wants. He has a fascination with how you talk and when you don’t, how your lips have a mind of their own sometimes, nibbled and popped and pouting.

“It’s easier if you take your shirt off.”

“How many girls believed that one?” you ask happily. He’s ecstatic. Dinner perked you up and now you’re all smiles and warm laughs. He doesn’t know why you’d been angry with him (he does) because you started it (not really), but you got something off your chest at least.

“None,” he says. “I’m serious that it’s easier. But you really don’t have to take it off for me to make it look good.”

Eddie wields his small pen knife toward your arm.

“I like my sleeves,” you say as he takes the hem of one such sleeve into his free hand.

“Don’t be a baby.” He pulls it taut from your skin. You’re both smiling. Carbs are good like that.

“I have fat arms,” you try.

He’s out of his mind. Eddie leans down and kisses the top of your arm quickly. “Shut up,” he says.

He doesn’t have time to think about what he’s done. It’ll torture him tonight when all he has for distraction are hotel sheets, and then tomorrow on the red eye back to L.A. He honestly doesn’t wanna look at you because if your nose is even slightly wrinkled he’ll have to turn to the gross toilet in the corner and chuck up, but he also doesn't want to freak you out. He looks up at you from under his lashes.

You look flustered.

Not disgusted.

“I’m doing it,” he warns.

“Yeah,” you say, nearly normal. “Fine. Make me look cool.”

“You admit that I look cool.”

“No.”

Eddie digs the tip of his pen knife into your sleeve and starts pulling. The fabric tears away in a jagged-lined but even circle around your arm, broadening a tantalising stretch. His stomach hurts a bit. To reach your second arm, the one furthest from him, he has to take up station between your spread legs. Or maybe he doesn’t have to, but he does, your thighs like two warm spots either side of him as he leans in close.

“And this is what’s gonna make them all like me, right? This is the cement of my street cred?”

“Your street cred? No. And I don’t think anything you do could make them like you.” You lean back at his words. He pulls you back in, fingers braceleting your arm as he fakes taking a measurement. “If they don’t like you already, they won’t. Not your fault, not your problem. Who says you even like them?”

“I do, though. That’s my problem. I even like Little Miss Fleetwood,” you grumble.

He raises his eyebrows to show he’s listening, stabbing at your sleeve and tearing slow. “She still tripping you up?”

“No. I’m just trying to make you laugh.”

He laughs under his breath. “Mission accomplished, baby,” he murmurs.

Both sleeves sliced, Eddie steps away from you, ignoring the heat in his stomach to take you in. People who don’t know where they stand shouldn’t be so close to one another, he decides, ‘cause wishful thinking has him marking your hands as wanting. Your fingers move slowly as if through water, tip of your index on the left hand stroking down the back of your right marriage. Eddie pins salaciousness on everybody he meets —coke is falling out of fashion fast but sex is always in— but he can’t get a faithful read on you now. He wants you to want to be kissed. Doesn’t trust that you do.

“You look edgy.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” you ask.

“An awful way.”

You go quiet, your hands go still. You raise your head until it’s too much, and he realises he’s been moving back in. He drops the penknife in the sink on top of your jacket, putting his hand on your freshly bared arm and bunching the sleeve up as much as he can without it pulling at you. He’s greedy and he wants to palm at your skin like an asshole, that’s not your problem.

“That bad?” you ask.

He angles his face over yours. He needs two inches maybe three, and you’d be kissing. His hand falls down your arm to your elbow, clasping weakly over your skin.

“No,” he says. He can barely hear himself.

Greedy. His second hand comes up to your face, waiting, and when you lift your jaw just so he slots his hand under it and holds you.

“What are we doing?” you whisper.

What are ‘we’ doing?

“Nothing you don’t want to do.” He widens the gap between you.

“I know– I know that.” Your arm ventured forward, fingers twisting around the hem of his shirt. You tug it gently, pulling him forward again. “I just don’t understand it. You. I don’t get what’s happening, Eddie.”

“Well… I was going to kiss you.” Eddie fights to sound the way he feels, out of his element but so earnest his chest aches. “I really, really… want to kiss you.”

It doesn’t feel like admitting defeat, as he’d initially thought it might. Neither does it feel confessional. You can’t confess to a secret already known.

He kisses you just once. A light brush of his lips against yours. Anymore than that and he knows he’ll start making promises like someone who has room for them. His eyes scrunch closed hard and he struggles not to squeeze your poor cheek as the pressure of your lips builds, as they part, as he pulls back and you chase him. He can’t kiss your mouth anymore than that, but your hands are grabbing at him, pleading and twitching and cold against the searing skin of his abdomen as they search underneath his shirt. Eddie feels the soft curve of your hip under his hand, knowing he can’t fuck you here, and undecided on whether that’ll be his ruin or his saviour.

You shudder as he kisses down. His hands are hungry but his mouth is sweet, gentle like you deserve as he noses down the column of your throat.

“I don’t get you,” you say, your fingertips sewn into his hair, scratching over his scalp lightly. Your breath catches as he parts his lips. His teeth scratch over the damp crescents of previous kisses.

He loses himself in the ticklish feeling of your hand and the heat of your skin. “Hm?” he hums.

“I understood you better when I thought you didn’t like me.”

He kisses up to the soft crook of your jaw before edging you away, just enough to see the sad set of your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, utters, like you’re trading secrets. His thumb rubs your cheek, a rough touch. He’s never been much good at aligning his words with actions; his heart and his hands.

He doesn’t know what to do to fix your sad frown. He kisses you again in case that’s what you wanted but couldn’t say, and it works for a handful of blessed, wretched seconds. You kiss back hard. Eddie has to break it to take a breath.

You rest your forehead against his. It slides slowly to his nose, and eventually you’ve bowed your head, your hands slipping down to his elbows.

“I feel sick all the time,” you say. Your hands flex against his skin. “The only time I feel alright is when I’m playing– when I’m making something.” You press your head to his chest. “Or when I’m with you.”

Eddie thinks of all the shitty decisions he’s made. His restlessness, his bad attitude. His propensity to assume the worst. How he’d taken your thumb rubbing a smudge off of his cheek in the Prover Theatre as a jab, rather than a helping hand.

He wraps his arms around you.

Your head fits under his rather well.

“I know what you mean,” he says. And out of everything he’s told you today, that’s the hardest to say aloud.

Eddie hugs you in the dim light of that dingy bathroom knowing he’s running on borrowed time. All too soon, you’re pulling apart and he’s helping you off of the counter unnecessarily. You don’t hold hands on the way back to Wings Stadium. He thought you might. You’re quiet. He tries to cheer you up, feeling more and more like he’s done something wrong the closer you get to the venue.

He doesn’t have anything to offer. You’re both on tour now. He doesn’t have a clue when he’ll see you next, or what he’ll say when he does.

Miraculously, he gets you back to your dressing room. He gives your cheek a quick squeeze.

“Play well tonight,” he says.

“I always play well.”

You do. He watches you from the VIP section a couple of hours later, impressed. Mildly nauseous. His thumb worries the edge of the pass until it splits in his hand, paper coming apart from cardboard. Your singer might be a handful, but she knows when to be discreet. He slinks out before your set finishes through a side entrance, and his head races with your image. If it weren’t for your cut sleeves and the flank of your upper arm glowing under the stage lights, he’d put his kisses down to surreal delusion.

Eddie doesn’t notice the lone photographer hiding in the eaves.

The photographer notices him.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

!!! thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging, it helps so much! Let me know what you thought, what bits you liked and what you want to see next

can you feel another spat coming along 0.0 I honestly had so much fun writing this one especially the scene with Wayne and then the end scene in the bathroom <3 it’s always crazy to see hours and hours condensed into chapters like this but idc I’m having the time of my life and hope u guys r too! the word count is now at a solid 26k I believe though so it does feel rewarding in that way

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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VW wouldn't locate kidnapped child because his mother didn't pay for find-my-car subscription

The masked car-thieves who stole a Volkswagen SUV in Lake County, IL didn’t know that there was a two-year-old child in the back seat — but that’s no excuse. A violent car-theft has the potential to hurt or kill people, after all.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/28/kinderwagen/#worst-timeline

Likewise, the VW execs who decided to nonconsensually track the location of every driver and sell that data to shady brokers — but to deny car owners access to that data unless they paid for a “find my car” subscription — didn’t foresee that their cheap, bumbling subcontractors would refuse the local sheriff’s pleas to locate the car with the kidnapped toddler.

And yet, here we are. Like most (all?) major car makers, Volkswagen has filled its vehicles with surveillance gear, and has a hot side-hustle as a funnel for the data-brokerage industry.

After the masked man jumped out of a stolen BMW and leapt into the VW SUV to steal it, the child’s mother — who had been occupied bringing her other child inside her home — tried to save her two year old, who was still in the back seat. The thief “battered” her and drove off. She called 911.

The local sheriff called Volkswagen and begged them to track the car. VW refused, citing the fact that the mother had not paid for the $150 find-my-car subscription after the free trial period expired. Eventually, VW relented and called back with the location data — but not until after the stolen car had been found and the child had been retrieved.

Now that this idiotic story is in the news, VW is appropriately contrite. An anonymous company spokesman blamed the incident on “a serious breach” of company policy and threw their subcontractor under the (micro)bus, blaming it on them.

This is truly the worst of all worlds: Volkswagen is a company that has internal capacity to build innovative IT systems. Once upon a time, they had the in-house tech talent to build the “cheat device” behind Dieselgate, the means by which they turned millions of diesel vehicles into rolling gas-chambers, emitting lethal quantities of NOX.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volkswagen_emissions_scandal

But on the other hand, VW doesn’t have the internal capacity to operate Car-Net, it’s unimaginatively-named, $150/year location surveillance system. That gets subbed out to a contractor who can’t be relied on to locate a literal kidnapped child.

The IT adventures that car companies get up to give farce a bad name. Ferraris have “anti-tampering” kill-switches that immobilize cars if they suspect a third-party mechanic is working on them. When one of these tripped during a child-seat installation in an underground parking garage, the $500k car locked its transmission and refused to unlock it — and the car was so far underground that its cellular modem couldn’t receive the unlock code, permanently stranding it:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/15/expect-the-unexpected/#drm

BMW, meanwhile, is eagerly building out “innovations” like subscription steering-wheel heaters:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Big Car has loaded our rides up with so much surveillance gear that they were able to run scare ads opposing Massachusetts’s Right to Repair ballot initiative, warning Bay Staters that if third parties could access the data in their cars, it would lead to their literal murders:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

In short: the automotive sector has filled our cars with surveillance gear, but that data is only reliably available to commercial data-brokers and hackers who breach Big Cars’ massive data repositories. Big Car has the IT capacity to fill our cars with cheat devices — but not the capacity to operate an efficient surveillance system to use in real emergencies. Big Car says that giving you control over your car will result in your murder — but when a child’s life is on the line, they can’t give you access to your own car’s location.

This Thu (Mar 2) I’ll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who’s-who of European and US trustbusters. It’s livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free. On Fri (Mar 3), I’ll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

—

Upsilon Andromedae (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/upsand/212946929/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[Image ID: A blue vintage VW beetle speeds down a highway; a crying baby is pressed against the back driver's-side window. In the sky overhead is the red glaring eye of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, emblazoned with the VW logo. The eye is projecting a beam of red light that has enveloped the car.]

#pluralistic #worst timeline #parenting #car-net #automotive #stranger danger #commercial surveillance #surveillance #volkswagen #vw

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bonezone44 · 3 months

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'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

+++++

The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind.

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands.

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak.

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building.

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees.

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you.

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt. A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin.

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again.

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous.

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it.

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells.

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh… after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

Then you walked in.

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman.

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him.

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed.

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized. He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit.

You moaned. Something fake and bland.

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.” He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned.

“Okay,” you said flatly.

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.”

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone.

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper.

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.”

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it.

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself.

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you.

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans.

It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin.

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before.

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool.

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor.

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard.

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm.

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle.

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too.

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance.

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you.

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed.

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth.

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move.

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear.

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse.

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body.

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples.

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.”

+++++

a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #✏️ game #✏ game club

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