#afab character

The Bishop’s valet entered first, a thin, wiry man who immediately hesitated at the sight of the room. The Bishop followed a moment later, his step faltering as his gaze landed on the massive table before him.

“A round table?” His voice dripped with disdain. “What sort of evil is this?”

Jols merely raised a brow, his expression carefully neutral, though Thea caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Arthur says that for men to be men, they must first all be equal,” Jols stated.

The valet, clearly more outraged than his master, stiffened and hissed under his breath, “A woman is not equal to a man! Let alone to a Bishop!”

Jols said nothing, merely returning to his place by the door. He knew Thea’s worth. She was worth ten times more than the Bishop and more than many men he had met in his life.

Thea sat six seats away from Lancelot, four away from Galahad. None of the knights shifted closer to fill the empty spaces—those belonged to their fallen brothers. The room felt hollow without them, but leaving their seats untouched was an unspoken tribute.

The Bishop finally stepped fully into the chamber, glancing at the round table with barely concealed disgust. The knights, bound by duty rather than respect, rose to acknowledge his presence.

Thea wished she could have remained seated. She had no respect for this so-called man of God.

“I was given to understand there would be more of you.” The Bishop said looking to Arthur.

A sharp pang struck Thea’s heart as she sat back down. She missed them—every one of her fallen brothers-in-arms. She could still picture their faces clearly, but their voices were beginning to fade from memory. They had been so many once. Now, they were so few.

Arthur answered, his tone steady but firm. Thea had a feeling he would be the only one speaking tonight.

“There were,” he said. “We have been fighting here for fifteen years, Bishop.”

Servants moved about the room, carrying golden chalices filled with wine. A young man paused beside Thea, offering her one, and she accepted it with a nod. As the wine slid down her throat, she noted the richness of its taste. This was no common drink—this was the finest vintage, likely brought all the way from Rome. Of course, the Bishop would ensure he had only the proper wine.

Once the Bishop took his seat, the knights followed suit.

“Oh, of course,” the Bishop said, his voice dripping with feigned admiration. “Arthur and his knights have served with great courage, maintaining the honor of Rome’s empire in this, the last outpost of our glory. Rome is most indebted to you, noble knight, for your final days as servants to the empire.”

Lancelot scoffed, voicing the thought that was on all of their minds.

“Day. Not days.”

Thea’s fingers tightened slightly around her chalice. Days? Why had he said days? Something wasn’t right. Where were their papers? Why was he delaying?

“The Pope has taken a personal interest in you,” the Bishop continued smoothly. “He inquires after each of you and is curious to know if your knights have converted to the word of Our Savior, or…?”

Arthur’s gaze swept across his men, pride evident in his expression. “They retain the religion of their forefathers. I have never questioned that.”

And it was true. Arthur had never forced his men to kneel before his God. He had never demanded that they pray with him. Unlike any Roman before him, and likely any that would come after, he had respected them.

“Of course, of course,” the Bishop murmured. His lips curled in distaste. “They are pagans.”

The Bishop’s gaze swept over the knights, but his eyes lingered on Thea longer than the rest. She noticed Dagonet’s grip tighten around his chalice, his knuckles turning white. He had seen it too.

“For our part,” the Bishop said, his tone laced with feigned civility, “the Church has deemed such beliefs… innocent. But you, Arthur—your path to God is through Pelagius? I saw his image in your room.”

Arthur met his gaze without hesitation. “He took my father’s place for me. His teachings on free will and equality have been a great influence. I look forward to our reunion in Rome.”

Thea knew of Pelagius well. Arthur had spoken of him many times, his admiration clear. Once, he had even written to Pelagius about her. The response had come swiftly, with the philosopher expressing his desire to meet such an extraordinary warrior. The compliment alone had been enough to intrigue her. She had wanted to meet the man ever since.

The Bishop offered Arthur a tight-lipped smile. “Rome awaits your arrival with great anticipation. You are a hero. In Rome, you will live out your days in honor and wealth. Alas… alas, we are all but players in an ever-changing world.” He sighed dramatically before continuing. “Barbarians from every corner are nearly at Rome’s door. Because of this, Rome and the Holy Father have decided to remove ourselves from indefensible outposts such as Britain. What will become of this land is no longer our concern. I suppose the Saxons will claim it soon enough.”

At his words, a gilded box was placed beside him. The knights stood out of obligation—all but Thea and Lancelot.

“Saxons?” Arthur’s voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence. Thea felt the same unease coil in her stomach. The Saxons were ruthless, leaving only death in their wake.

“Yes,” the Bishop confirmed. “In the north, a massive Saxon incursion has begun.”

Lancelot scoffed, his lip curling. “The Saxons only claim what they kill.”

“And they do kill everything,” Gawain added darkly.

“They believe themselves to be the perfect race, the perfect warriors,” Thea said, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. “To them, anything else is an abomination.”

The Bishop shot her a scowl, but she refused to shrink beneath his gaze. She would not hold her tongue—not now, not ever.

“So you would just leave the land to the Woads?” Galahad’s voice was sharp, his frustration clear. “I risked my life for nothing?”

No one answered him. The silence in the room was heavier than the walls that surrounded them.

The Bishop cleared his throat and continued as if the young knight had not spoken. “Gentlemen,” he said smoothly purposefully leaving out Thea, “your discharge papers, with safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire.”

He lifted the gilded box slightly, its weight shifting in his hands. Thea’s eyes flickered from the scrolls within it to Dagonet’s face. He was staring at the box, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his hungry, desperate eyes—told her everything. He wanted those papers, that promise of freedom.

But he would not look at her.

Before she could dwell on it, the Bishop’s voice cut through her thoughts once more.

“But first, I must have a word with your commander,” he announced, pausing for effect. “In private.”

A cold certainty settled in Thea’s chest. Something is wrong.

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “We have no secrets.”

The Bishop’s face twitched in irritation. When he had said private, he had meant private. First a round table, and now this blatant defiance? His lips pressed into a thin line as he slammed the wooden box shut with more force than necessary.

Lancelot was the first to break the tension. Rising with a lazy grace, he lifted his golden chalice in a mocking salute. “Come,” he drawled, tilting the cup toward Arthur before draining the last of his wine. “Let’s leave Roman business to Romans.” With a flourish, he set the chalice down and strode from the hall.

Bors remained in his seat, glaring openly at the Bishop, his fingers twitching as if itching to make a fist. Dagonet, ever perceptive, clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave a firm shove. “Let it go, Bors.”

Bors huffed but stood, muttering curses under his breath as he stalked out.

Thea felt a warm hand press lightly against her back—Lancelot, guiding her toward the door. She let him, but not before casting one last glance at Dagonet.

He still hadn’t looked at her.

“What a pompous ass,” Galahad spat the moment they were out of earshot of the fortress hall. His disgust was palpable, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I knew something was wrong the moment we came upon his caravan,” Thea murmured, her voice quieter but no less certain. The memory still sat uneasily in her gut.

“Our seer is right again,” came a low voice from the front of the group. Tristan, ever the observer, barely turned his head as he spoke.

Thea scoffed. “I am no seer, Tristan.”

He glanced at her briefly, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “Could have fooled me.” And with that, he fell silent once more.

Galahad let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “Why must we wait? We should just take our papers and leave.”

“It’s Roman ways,” Lancelot said, shaking his head. “They never make anything easy, especially when they hold the power.”

Bors grunted, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the conversation. “Enough talk,” he said gruffly. “I feel like drinking till I can’t piss straight.” He clapped Dagonet on the back and started leading the way.

“Vanora will be working,” he added, his tone lighter now, laced with the warmth only she could bring out in him. “Let’s get there before all those Roman bastards drink all my damn ale.”

Lancelot chuckled, looping an arm around Thea’s shoulders as they followed. “A noble cause indeed.”

No matter how many fights she had seen, no matter how many more she would face before her life was over, she would never grow accustomed to scrubbing the blood of the fallen from her body—enemy or not.

She stripped off her soiled clothes, tossing them into a heap near the door. Her weapons, carefully placed, rested on the wooden table beside her bed. Her sword would need sharpening soon.

Moving to the small wash basin, she dipped a cloth into the cool water and began scrubbing her skin. The water darkened to red almost immediately, swirling like ink as it carried away the remnants of the day’s violence. She reached for the second bucket of clean water, pouring it over her arms and shoulders, watching as it washed away the last traces of blood.

It took several minutes before she finally felt clean. Pulling on a fresh tunic, pants, and boots, she worked quickly to re-braid her damp hair—only to be interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Thea moved to open the heavy wooden door, only to be met by Dagonet’s piercing green eyes. He said nothing as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet finality.

“I was just about to come find you,” she began, but the intensity in his gaze made her breath catch. She knew that look—knew exactly where this would lead if she let it.

Reaching out, she placed a hand against his chest, a gentle attempt to stop him from coming any closer. But Dagonet was not so easily deterred. He caught her hand in his own, his grip warm and firm as he pulled her toward him.

“Dagonet,” she warned, though her voice lacked conviction.

He wasn’t listening. They had gone months without a moment alone, stolen glances and fleeting touches the only comfort in the chaos of war. Now that he had the chance, he wasn’t going to waste it.

His lips captured hers before she could protest again, his kiss deep and unyielding. Whatever she had meant to say dissolved the moment his arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him. What had started as an attempt to distract her became his own undoing the second he felt her melt into him.

Thea hesitated for only a heartbeat before surrendering, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as she kissed him back. One of his hands pressed against the small of her back, holding her in place, while the other tangled into the damp strands of her hair. A soft moan escaped her lips, and he smiled against her mouth in quiet triumph—only for her to catch herself and abruptly pull away.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, breathless.

“And?” His grin was utterly shameless as he leaned in again, intent on reclaiming her lips.

But Thea pulled back, pressing her fingers against his chest. “I’m serious, Dagonet.”

“What is the matter?” Dagonet asked as Thea sank onto the edge of her bed. He moved to join her, concern etched across his face.

“Bors knows.”

His brow furrowed. “Knows what?”

She hesitated, but when his fingers gently lifted her chin, his thumb tracing the fullness of her bottom lip, she exhaled and said, “About us.”

His touch stilled. “So?”

“So?!” She pulled away, frustration bubbling up. “If Bors knows, then who else does?”

“Why does it matter? We receive our papers tonight.”

“Dagonet.” She turned to face him fully, her voice low and urgent. “What happens if more than just Bors knows? If the Bishop finds out, we could be sentenced to death for this.”

“Then we run.”

“Run where? Back home?” She sighed, standing abruptly. “They would hunt us down.”

“The Bishop is here to give us our freedom,” he argued, his jaw tightening.

“I don’t believe he is. Something doesn’t feel right, Dagonet. We cannot risk it.”

He stepped closer, his voice edged with frustration. “I don’t understand why you keep fighting this. Have you lost your courage? Or your love for me?”

Thea’s eyes flashed as she turned on him. “How dare you?” she hissed. “How dare you even suggest I don’t love you anymore. And I have not lost my courage.”

“Then prove it,” he challenged. “Come with me to speak with Arthur. He is our commander—our friend. He will understand.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not until I have that paper in my hand. And you have yours.”

Dagonet’s expression darkened, hurt bleeding into his frustration. “I do not understand why we must continue to live in silence. After all these years.” His voice softened. “Thea, I want to take you as my wife. I want a life with you. A family. Can you not see that?”

She closed her eyes briefly, pain flickering across her face before she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Bors and Vanora are not married,” she said quietly. “It is different for us. I am a knight, just as you are. And you know what they told me the moment I was taken in. If any man dared to claim me, if I were to become pregnant—” She swallowed hard. “It would be the end of my life. And his.”

Thea had never seen that look in Dagonet’s eyes before—not directed at her. It wasn’t just anger; it was something deeper, something raw. And though she knew he had every right to feel this way, she couldn’t stay silent.

“I can’t risk losing you,” she said softly.

His jaw tightened. “You don’t think I would fight for you? That I would take on an entire Roman legion just to be with you?”

“Dag—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” he snapped.

She flinched, shocked by the force of his voice. Silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face before turning toward the door.

Slowly, he opened it, his back still to her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but laced with hurt.

“I would fight for you.” A pause. “Why can’t you fight for me?”

“Dagonet,” she whispered, but he didn’t turn back.

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with nothing but her thoughts—and the tears she could no longer hold back.

Thea had no idea how much time had passed between Dagonet leaving and Gawain’s knock at her door.

“Thea, we are to meet Arthur soon.”

She opened the door slowly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the redness in her eyes. But Gawain always noticed.

“Thea, are you alright?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She wiped at her eyes and forced a small smile. “I’m not sure.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with a heavy sigh, she murmured, “We best not keep the bishop waiting.” She moved to step past him, but Gawain caught her in a hug.

The knights weren’t ones to display affection openly, but here, in the quiet of the hallway, with no one else around, Gawain simply gathered her into his arms. The weight of unspoken words settled between them, her walls threatening to break again. She didn’t cry, but he held her as if she might.

“Do you wish to talk?” he finally asked.

She just shook her head.

A familiar voice broke the silence. “What’s this? Free embraces from our beautiful viper?”

Lancelot had stepped from his room, his usual mischievous grin in place. Thea couldn’t help but return it, stepping out of Gawain’s arms.

“If anyone saw me hugging you, rumors would fly,” she teased.

“Let them,” Lancelot replied smoothly, offering his arm.

She rolled her eyes but took it anyway. He pressed a quick kiss to her brow, and just like that, the weight on her chest felt a little lighter.

“Well, you wouldn’t be saying that if you ever saw me! You’d agree,” Bors shot back with a wink.

Thea smirked. “Oh, I do believe I’ll tell fair Vanora about this conversation.”

Bors’ grin faltered instantly. “Now, hold on—” He nudged his horse closer to hers, his voice dropping low. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

She gave him a knowing look but said nothing, just enjoying the rare moment of having the upper hand.

Bors, however, saw his opportunity to turn the conversation in his favor. “If you tell Vanora, I’ll have to tell Arthur about you and Dagonet.”

Thea’s amusement vanished. She turned sharply to him, eyes wide. “What?”

“You really think I wouldn’t notice?” His voice was quieter now, serious beneath the usual bravado. “Out of all the knights, Dagonet is the closest to me. I see everything, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, to brush it off as nonsense, but lying to Bors was like trying to outrun the wind—pointless. Something about him, much like Arthur, always made her stumble over her words when she tried.

“Bors, please,” she sighed, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “We were waiting until we had our papers before telling anyone. If the Romans were to find out—”

“I’m not saying anything,” he assured her before she could finish, his voice softer now, lacking the teasing edge.

She let out a slow breath, relieved, but the damage was done—if Bors had noticed, who else had?

She had over an hour before they reached the fort. Plenty of time to think. And now, she had no choice but to.

“I don’t like him. That Roman,” Galahad muttered as they rode toward the fort, his grip tight on the reins. “If he’s here to discharge us, why doesn’t he just give us our papers and be done with it?”

Thea glanced at him, noting the tension in his young face. Despite the years of war, there was still a trace of the boy he used to be—flickering, dim, nearly extinguished by the Romans and the battles that had shaped him into a man far too soon.

“Is this your happy face?” Gawain quipped, smirking.

Galahad’s expression only darkened.

“Galahad, do you still not know the Romans?” Gawain continued. “They won’t even scratch their own asses without making a ceremony of it.”

Bors let out a short laugh. “Why don’t you just kill him, then discharge yourself after?”

“I don’t kill for pleasure. Unlike some.” Galahad’s voice was steady, but his gaze flicked toward Tristan.

The quiet knight didn’t react—just looked at him with that unreadable expression of his. Then, after a moment, Tristan spoke. “Well, you should try it someday. You might get a taste for it.”

Bors snorted. “It’s in you, lad. It’s in your blood.”

Thea sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s in all of us.”

“No, no, no.” Bors waved a hand dismissively. “As of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory.”

“Ohhh,” he added, voice thick with sarcasm.

“All of it, Galahad?” Thea asked, tilting her head toward him. “Even us? Will we just be bad memories too?”

She had always called him little brother, and in many ways, he was. But when he wouldn’t look at her, when he urged his horse forward, leaving the conversation behind him, she got her answer.

She understood his longing for home—she felt it too. But unlike Galahad, she could never think of these men as a memory best forgotten. Blood, war, and death had bound them together in ways few could understand. They had fought, bled, and survived together. For better or worse, these men were her family. They always would be.

Maybe, she thought, this was just a woman’s sentiment.

“I’ve often wondered what going home will mean after all this,” Gawain said, breaking the silence. “What will I do? What will any of us do?” He exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s different for Galahad. He still remembers home. He still has a future waiting for him. But me? I’ve been in this life longer than the others. Home—” He paused, as if testing the word on his tongue. “It’s not so clear in my mind anymore.”

Thea understood that too. Home. A word that once meant everything. Now? It felt like something distant, something that belonged to another version of herself.

And yet, it was all they had left to hope for.

“You speak for yourself,” Bors grumbled. “It’s cold back there, and everyone I know is dead and buried. Besides, I have—I think—a dozen children.”

“Eleven,” Gawain corrected without missing a beat.

“And I’m sure there’ll be more on the way after we get back,” Thea teased as she rode up beside them, flashing Bors a knowing smirk.

Bors pointed a thick finger at her. “You listen.” He jabbed the same finger toward Galahad for good measure. “When the Romans finally clear out of here, we’ll have the run of the place. I’ll be governor of my own village, and Dagonet here will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won’t you, Dag?” He laughed, nudging his closest friend.

Dagonet, ever the quiet one, gave a small shake of his head but said nothing.

“You know, Bors,” Thea interjected, tilting her head. “Perhaps Dagonet might find himself a wife. Maybe even start a family of his own. He might be too busy being a husband and father to be your personal ass-kisser.”

Bors shot her a sharp look, and she just shrugged. They both knew the conversation they’d had earlier was still fresh in their minds.

“First thing I’m doing when I get home is finding a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed,” Bors declared.

“A beautiful Sarmatian woman?” Bors said sarcastically causing Gawain to raise an eyebrow. “Why do you think we left in the first place?” Bors let out a booming laugh and made a loud mooing noise, shaking his head.

“You do know there’s a beautiful Sarmatian woman riding right beside you,” Lancelot said, nodding toward Thea.

“Why, thank you, my dear Lancelot,” Thea said with a dramatic smile, placing a hand on her chest as if deeply touched.

Bors turned, giving her a skeptical once-over. Then he jerked his thumb toward her and scoffed, “This one?”

Thea arched a brow.

Bors leaned in slightly. “No, my dear, you see—you are not a beautiful woman.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re a damned viper,” he added with a grin before leaning over and planting a quick, exaggerated kiss on her cheek.

She responded by punching him in the arm.

Bors feigned a wounded look before rubbing his arm with a grin. “But a beautiful viper, at that.”

Thea laughed, shaking her head before slowing her horse to fall into stride beside Dagonet. As she rode back, she caught Bors giving her a wink. She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same as he turned back to Lancelot to finish their conversation.

“And what about you, Lancelot?” Thea asked, glancing at the handsome knight. “What are your grand plans for home?”

Lancelot smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he turned to Bors. “Well, if this woman of Gawain’s is as beautiful as he claims, I expect to be spending quite a bit of time at his house. His wife will surely welcome the company.”

Gawain shot him a dark look, clearly unamused. “Oh? And what exactly will I be doing?”

“Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me,” Lancelot replied with an easy grin.

“Is that before or after I split your head open with my ax?”

Lancelot only laughed. “Well, if I could finally convince our lovely viper to wed me, I suppose I wouldn’t need to trouble your household.” He cast a glance over his shoulder toward Thea, who rode between Tristan and Dagonet. “What do you say? Finally going to give me an answer?”

Thea rolled her eyes dramatically. “Lancelot, I love you dearly, but alas, your proposal came far too late. I’m afraid my affection has been lost to another.”

Lancelot clutched his chest in mock devastation. “No! Can this be true? Has our dear viper been tamed by another? Tell me, sister! Who has stolen you from me?”

Thea smirked. “Ah, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Gawain chuckled. “He’ll get it out of you one way or another. But better you marry anyone else than this vile knight. Or else you’ll be mother to many other women’s bastards as well.”

Thea burst into laughter while Lancelot ignored the jab, his attention already shifting. With a last lingering glance at her, he spurred his horse forward to join Arthur at the front of the group, leaving Thea shaking her head at his antics.

“Open the gate!” A Roman officer on the wall barked the command down to the two soldiers manning the heavy wooden doors. With a deep groan, the gates slowly swung open as the knights approached.

Thea urged her horse closer to Dagonet’s side. “We need to talk.”

His sharp eyes flicked toward her. “What is the matter?”

“Not now. When we can speak alone.”

Dagonet gave a small nod, sensing the weight in her voice, and she pressed her horse forward into the fort.

As they rode into the stables, they were met by Jols, who stepped forward to take hold of Arthur and Lancelot’s horses as they dismounted. Thea caught sight of Vanora and her children waiting just beyond the iron gates that enclosed the stable yard. Smiling, she gave a playful wink to little Gilly, who immediately blushed and hid behind his mother’s skirts.

“Welcome back, Arthur,” Jols greeted, his voice steady as always.

“Jols,” Arthur responded with a brief nod.

“Lancelot.”

The dark-haired knight only acknowledged him with a tense nod, his nerves clearly on edge. The bishop’s presence was an unwelcome weight hanging over them all.

Thea swung down from her horse with practiced ease, leading the animal past Jols. “Jols!” she greeted warmly.

He returned her smile. “Welcome back, Thea.”

“Thank you. Everything quiet here?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Jols assured her, but his gaze drifted past her shoulder. Thea followed his line of sight and immediately tensed. The bishop was descending from his luxurious carriage, Roman soldiers flanking him on all sides like he was some fragile treasure.

Thea let out a quiet scoff. “Ah. May I present the most holy Roman bishop,” she murmured to Jols, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Come all the way from Rome to grace us with his divine presence.”

Jols smirked at her words, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s hope he presents you with your papers and leaves just as quickly.”

She exhaled, nodding in agreement. That was the hope, wasn’t it? But something about this man gnawed at her.

Arthur approached the carriage, ever the dutiful commander. “Bishop, my quarters have been made available to you.”

The bishop barely glanced at him as he descended, his robes pristine, untouched by the filth of travel. “Oh, yes. I must rest.”

Thea clenched her jaw, watching the man’s exaggerated weariness. Yes, because you look absolutely exhausted after reclining in your cushioned chariot the entire way here.

She turned back to her horse, gripping the saddle as unease curled in her stomach. Something about the bishop felt wrong.

despite the fact he could manage to remain calm in the midst of chaos and literal mass destruction, robert, somehow, made you nervous.

he listens intently to every word that you say, maintaining eye contact and giving genuine, thought out responses. when you speak, robert truly listens; he remembers the little details, even the ones you’d forgotten yourself. he doesn’t just nod his head along, humming every now and then to pretend to be part of the conversation as he zones out—you think it’s what he’s doing, when he’s intently scraping the bottom of his pint of rocky road as you rant in the background. you’re never really expecting him to pay it much mind, and you don’t necessarily expect him to anyway, so it surprises you when weeks, sometimes even months after, robert will bring something up. he’ll pack you a lunch (to the best of his ability) when you make an off handed comment about not getting the chance to eat at work. he’ll try to replace anything broken or misplaced in your home, even when it’s something simple or insignificant. and when there’s nothing to divert robert’s attention, where he can just focus on you, not once do his eyes leave yours.

being heard is nice, of course, but sometimes you wish just once, robert wouldn’t look into your eyes with such sincerity because then it would make revealing certain things a little less embarrassing. however you’re glad that robert is so understanding; you’re not sure you could handle facing him again with how many times you stuttered over your words when you’d look back up from your hands in your lap to his deep, brown eyes that studied your face with a practiced intensity. 

robert is more than intrigued to find you’re a virgin. he can’t really talk (not that he was going to anyway), considering before he started dating you he hadn’t gotten any in literal months, but it was probably one of the last things he ever expected to come from your mouth. just like you had expected, robert, though with some surprise, took the news well. he didn’t bring up the topic much afterwards, which you also had expected. you might have even forgotten you’d even had the conversation if you didn’t sometimes find yourself accidentally staring a bit too hard at his backside each and every time he’d pull on a pair of sweatpants in the mornings you spent together. you prayed to god he didn’t feel your eyes boring into him when you’d stare at his ass as he bent down to pour food into beef’s bowl; unfortunately for you, he absolutely could. regardless, he still gave you the space and time you needed to bravely take the first step, when you’d finally bite the bullet and put an end to your pathetic ogling and actually show robert just how much you wanted him—lucky for you, he wanted you just about as much as you wanted him, if not more.

you had bought him dinner, taking him somewhere that wasn’t particularly fancy but still made for a good date, and you even got him a small bouquet of flowers despite knowing full well robert was going to somehow kill them because he could not keep a plant alive to save his life. still, when he got home, he rifled through his cupboards and put them in a coffee mug he had thrifted years ago before letting them sit on his kitchen counter to catch the little sunlight that’d slip through the window. afterwards, he gave you this smile that you swear made his eyes glimmer, and unfortunately it only further worsened your nerves. 

you didn’t want to make it so obvious you were trying to be romantic, but robert wasn’t totally opposed to a few cliche gestures every now and then, even when at dinner you’d almost knocked over your drink trying to reach across the table to hold his hand—he caught it, thankfully, and you smiled exasperatedly, trying to conceal your embarrassment from the stray eyes that landed on your table from the ruckus. his voice was hushed and assuring, and if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears the whole time, you’d probably be soothed by his words had you even been able to hear them.

you walked him home after dinner, awkwardly standing in his kitchen as if you hadn’t been there a hundred times before. it was only there did you really get a good look at robert; he wore a grey colored shirt you’d never seen before, though you assumed it had to have been new because while all of robert’s other shirts were frayed and sometimes littered with holes, either from years of wear or from beef’s nails getting caught in the fabric; this one looked soft and clean, and even with the fabric crinkling from having been rolled up to his elbows, it almost looked like it had been ironed. to put it simply, he looked good, especially in those pair of jeans that he seemed to fill out just perfectly—you’re pretty sure he had caught you staring, and not only once but twice if that little glint in his eyes meant anything.

beef wasn’t home for a reason you had forgotten in your panic to give robert a nice night, though you suspected he was most likely with chase. robert was the one to lead you the few steps away from his kitchen and to the worn-out couch he bought secondhand that, when you asked about the mysterious stains it bore, robert gave you this look that definitely said, don’t even ask. thankfully the couch was covered with a thin blanket he had begrudgingly bought for himself after you’d scolded him for sleeping without one the first time you visited him. another blanket was draped over one of the couch arms, the one that you had gotten for him. it was thicker and warmer, and was usually the one that robert found himself pulling up to his neck at night. you figured with how chilly robert’s apartment was, it’d be nice to have after the two of you were done. 

he had to be the first to sit down before you worked up the courage to sit beside him. 

his voice was nothing but tender when he spoke, “we don’t have to do this, you know.” but you did want to, and so badly. robert had no idea how much you wanted him. 

you reached for him first. your hand slid across his arm, inching just beneath the sleeve of his shirt. you kissed him, and then pulled away just as quick, only to dive forward to catch his lips once more. he was the one to tilt his head, deepening the kiss and drawing out a pleased hum.

a hand reaches to the back of your neck, guiding your lips to stay on his before you pull away for breath. you lean on each other for a moment, his eyes peering into your half-lidded ones. he asks, “do you want this?” and you respond with a hushed yes before you bring him into a kiss that almost takes his breath away. he sighs in your mouth when you smile; he tasted like the cheesecake you had ordered for dessert.

you always thought robert was pretty, even if he didn’t think so himself. you didn’t know him back when he was properly mecha-man, but you assume he’d lost a bit of muscle, maybe gained a little weight, but you still found him jaw-droppingly gorgeous. he doesn’t think much of it when you touch him through his clothes, feeling the way his body curves and dips. he undoes the first button of his shirt, but you insist on doing the rest, letting the fabric fall from his shoulders until it’s swept off the couch and onto the floor. once it was off, you caught yourself admiring him. you pressed your lips to where some freckles faintly peppered his chest, your hands delicately running across the scars littering his body and tracing the two that laid beneath his nipples. your heart races when you feel him shudder beneath your fingertips, his fingers sitting beside yours before he’s doing the same with you, taking off your shirt and gliding his hands from your hips to your shoulders until he gently pulls you forward to bring you into another kiss. 

he doesn’t expect the way you look down at him once you take off his jeans. you don’t mean to, but your eyes immediately dart down to between his legs, mouth slightly agape as if you were suddenly met with the best meal of your life (which wasn’t far from the truth anyway, though that was something you wanted to save for after you were at least a little experienced with robert’s body).

robert’s long accepted he was far from his prime.. but he had to admit, the way you were looking at him was definitely getting to his head. he let his legs fall open, and with one hanging off the side of the couch in order to actually make some space for the two of you, it gave you the perfect view of his pearling cunt, shrouded by a dark tuft of hair. his hand comes down to spread himself open with his fingers, allowing you to see the pink skin that glistens from how wet he's started to become. his hole flutters when his fingers bump against his clit and you suddenly have the need to taste him on your tongue. your hands twitch like they want to grab at him and toss his legs over your shoulders, but you remain still. looking back on it, you really had to commend yourself for the self-restraint.

you’re too distracted to see the annoyingly smug look on robert’s face as he watches you practically drive yourself crazy intensely following his fingers' every move as they slowly glide across his folds, just before moving up to gently close around his swelling clit, giving himself some relief with just a few, small strokes that has him already biting his lips to keep himself from groaning too loudly.

quickly, you snap out from your trance. your face flushes with embarrassment, and while praying to god that you hadn’t been staring for too long, you hesitantly look back up at robert who looks nothing but amused. he quirks an eyebrow, and for a moment you fear you might have been drooling. instinctively you bring a hand up to wipe at your mouth (thankfully, no drool), and he grins with a fond roll of his eyes. he can’t help himself from pulling you forward again, relishing in the small gasp you make against his mouth. he thinks to stick his fingers between your lips (and he swears he could cum from that thought alone) but he puts the idea aside, opting to save it for later.

through the kiss, robert barely manages to speak. “my jeans—front pocket,” and for a second you pause, unsure of what he means. he still has that smitten look in his eyes with that boyish grin that practically makes him light up when the corner of his lips raise in amusement. “the condom.”

you make an oh expression, quickly leaning down to find it in the rumpled pile of clothes. on your way back over, robert steals a peck on the cheek, and the sudden gesture almost has you dropping the condom on the floor.

after making a fool of yourself trying to open the wrapper, you fumbled with the condom, clumsily sliding it down your length. robert only smiled up at you with those soft, brown eyes, reaching over to patiently help you adjust it. he raised a hand up, your face falling into his palm, and, with flushed cheeks, he assured you that you were doing fine before encouraging you to continue. you were obviously nervous, but robert’s cool composure (and his hand on your dick) helped settle your nerves just enough to let him guide you to his entrance, his breath hitching when you gently grab his legs to hold them open enough for you to settle comfortably between them.

it’s been a while is one of the first few things robert thinks. the sight of your hard cock right at his entrance is incredibly intimidating, but he takes a deep breath and ushers you to slip it in before he lays comfortably against the cushions. you stretch him out unbelievably well and he softly curses in surprise. he’s more than grateful to be on his back because in any other position, robert’s not too sure he’d be able to hold himself up.

when you gently grab his waist, the touch is electrifying; he hears you take a sharp inhale as you watch the way the head of your cock disappears into his pussy and he fights the urge to rake his hands down your back at the feeling of your cock spreading him open. you slip out of him by accident, but you quickly re-adjust yourself, popping the head of your cock back into him. your hips start rocking before he’s fully adjusted to your size, knocking the wind out of him. you can’t stop yourself, hooked on the way his pussy stretches around your cock, his walls pulsing with need. and to his disbelief, you’re not even all the way in yet, and still robert can feel his head starting to spin. he’s nowhere near finished, but your head’s falling to the crook of his neck and you’re groaning against his skin as you feel your orgasm already creeping near. he encourages you with a hoarse voice, guiding you with his hands on your waist to continue fucking into him. your hips stutter, and after bottoming out inside robert (which caused his pussy to squeeze down on your cock, further teetering you over the edge), you cum with a whisper of his name against the skin of his neck. when you shoot up, cheeks warm with a sheepish expression on your face, he tilts his head to lead your lips back on his before you can apologize. 

you’re not sure how long it’s been when he pulls away. his hair is messy, ruined from being pressed against the couch, and his lips look to be a little swollen, irritated from being bitten as robert mindlessly chews on them. you see his mouth open to speak before it quickly shuts, his eyes flickering down with that similar look of intrigue he had when you’d first started. when you follow his gaze, you have the same realization; you were hard again, or at least certainly not soft. with a raised eyebrow robert huffs, tilting his head to get a better view.

“i’ll admit, i’m a little impressed.”

you’re not entirely sure if you should be mortified or just grateful, but robert doesn’t leave you any room to think on it before he’s raising your chin to have you properly look into his eyes, laying patiently when you have to look away before you let your eyes meet once more. with a tinge of breathlessness in his voice, he asks you if you want to continue. his thumb right below your lip is distracting, but you manage a response, weakly replying with, admittedly, pathetic enthusiasm.

this time, you slide the condom on with ease. in your hand, your dick throbs with sensitivity, but as you push the head past robert’s folds, you feel yourself becoming impatient. he sighs when you bottom out, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. again, his walls pulse around you, squeezing when you pull away and fluttering when you push back in. his hips move to meet yours, but your pace is a little more urgent now. at the angle you’re fucking him, you’re unintentionally hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. he moans, his head thrown back. even when you readjust your position and you’re no longer pressing that spot inside of him that has his eyes watering, he nods in encouragement, flicking his hips up to meet yours. his back arches because you haven’t slowed your pace down, and when you remember to touch him, your thumb at his clit has him seeing stars. he manages to loosely hike a leg onto your waist, and with his hand leading your hips to fuck into him, he feels the head of your cock thrust right against that spot again. his head falls back as he groans with relief, his cunt fluttering vigorously around your cock. with his neck bared, you let your lips land just past his throat, sucking bruises onto his pale skin and chasing them down with soft kisses.

“good, good.. you’re doing—” he chokes when you quickly flick at his clit, making his pussy squeeze down on your cock in encouragement. robert can barely find the space to breathe between your quick thrusts. “you’re doing so good,”

your hips sloppily snap against his and robert’s mouth falls open, a moan barely escaping him when you deeply thrust into him. without thinking, praise falls from his lips, but he can only get a few words out as he rocks his hips, helping himself to your cock as you quickly rut into him before you’re both suddenly going still. you pull him forward by the waist and raise your head, watching as a broken moan rips from robert’s throat as he cums around your cock, earning a stifled groan from you. you follow closely, muttering his name as you grind your cock into him just enough to push yourself over the edge again. you barely catch robert saying your own name under his breath before he’s gone slack with his legs falling open and his hands dropping beside him. through fluttering eyes, he watches as you lean down to peck at his face, kissing right over his freckles before leading down to his open lips. even as he’s still catching his breath, he lets you kiss him until he’s gasping for air. 

when you move to pull out, robert softly hushes you, and instead pulls you into a gentle embrace before leading you down to let you lay atop of him where the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. he has a hand petting your head, like he’s trying to soothe you.

taking in the sound of each other’s breathing, robert huffs to himself before he clears his throat, inclined to fill the silence. “not so bad for your first time,” and his words are genuine, as genuine as the flush on his cheeks and as genuine as the hint of a smile at the corner of his chapped lips. when you remember to grab the thick, fluffy blanket from the end of the couch, you throw it over the both of you, granting you some warmth in the freezing cold apartment. 

the next morning, robert wakes before you do. he’s already dressed for work, but he sits on the arm of the couch, looking down at you as he gently thumbs at your temple. stirred awake, you squint up at him with tired eyes, making him smile. his voice is soft, barely a disturbance even among the stark silence of his empty living room. “hey,”

you respond just as quietly, leaning into the warmth of his palm. his hair, still somewhat dripping with water from his brisk shower, looks to have been brushed through with his hand, but you can tell he still looks like a complete mess. the collar of his sdn shirt is buttoned ridiculously high, and in, what you can only assume was a desperate attempt to hide the bruises on his neck, you can see that one of the last buttons is misaligned, showing off just a little bit of his skin that already has you feeling hot under the thick, fluffy blanket. you raise a hand to rest on his knee and, testing the waters, you trail it higher to squeeze at his thigh. you blink away the last bit of sleep, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. you already know the answer, but you ask anyway. “i don’t suppose you have some time to spare before you go to work?” you’re anything but subtle, and it makes him laugh. 

he shakes his head like he’s questioning why he bothers entertaining you and slides off the couch, leaning down to place a gentle, warm kiss on your forehead. “try not to make a mess of my apartment while i'm gone,”

Currently the only non-negotiables I have are as follows:

Underage (17 and younger)

Real life actors

Scat

Vore

Race-play

DDLG / Little and Big

TBA. . .

Things to expect:

Breeding/Pregnancy/Lactation (Vaginal births basically, maybe a rare anal. But no breast preg, no bellybutton, etc.)

Pet-play

Monsters

Top!Reader (Any variety)

FxF, MxM, NB, Trans, and any other combination I fancy

Incest (Mainly Step-Family. Although if the subject is interesting enough I may do the occasional full-cest. No grandparents or older, and certainly no one younger than eighteen.)

CNC / Non-Con

TBA. . .

•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ ••

Recently written

Nothing

Nothing

-

What’s the point of even volunteering to help you here if you didn’t even notice he was near. Keeping a quiet distance from you as you helped the other customers around you. Not so much as a single glance to signal him that you knew he was there. Were you ignoring him on purpose? All to give your attention to those who were weren’t worthy of it to the sick perverts that drooled over you that it upset him enough to want to do something about. But he knows he can't, you'd be too upset with him after that..that's something he'd rather avoid completely. He'd rather die than have you avoid him for being troublesome..again, it was him who volunteered to help you. You'd never allow him to be near you again!

As you finished up with a customer he's quick to move and follow behind you. His fingers fidgeting against the ribbon tied to the bunny ears he's currently wearing. Before he could turn around to call you, you picked up at the soft footsteps following. Tensing up slightly before giving a hesitant turn and looking down on him. "Oh! Finished up that quick? I guess you’re much faster than me.." You’re talking to him..but you’re not looking at him. The celling must be a lot more interesting than him. Eyes up and side to side, anywhere but his eyes..were you upset? But he hadn’t done anything. That you’ve found out about anyways.

Suddenly he found his cheeks feeling extremely warm when noticing the quick glance at his legs. When he presses them up against each other to watch your reaction, that makes his heart want to rip off his chest and bury in yours. It takes one of your awkward laughs to snap him out of his dazed faze. "I should go.." Pressing up against you he raises a brow, his hands pressed on your chest firmly. "Were you not going to take a break? I was about to take mine too..we should do it together..." Luka grins from how your face blows up red, gaze darting around everywhere. Nuzzling his face into your chest while he pushes you into the staff room. Although you slightly trip on the way in he makes sure to guide you and press you into the lockers.

"You haven’t kissed me all day...You haven’t texted me or called. Not even looked my way." Pulling on the strings of his nicely tied ribbon he pouted from you covering your face. Running his knee on your inner leg, titling his head to try and view the part of your face you’re not able to cover. "A-are you crazy?! if the others find out we’re doing this I'm dead!!" You panic, heart thumping loud and not being able to part view from the door. Luka doesn’t seem to care much though..wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing desperate kisses all over your face. Tongue sticking out to run down smoothly against your jaw. Humming out small whines at your refusal to even engage with him.

"I can feel you pressing on my stomach.." Luka huffs in frustration, spreading out his shorts from the front exposing the panties he wore. Eyes locking up with yours (finally) before he whimpers at the cold air hitting his already soaked panties. You feel your head dizzy from all thought, though your mind wants to stay reasonable your hand is already lowering down from his back to his bottom cupping your hand firmly against it. His body already used to you melts, letting out a sweet moan as you kiss him for the first time today. Dipping your hands into his shorts bending him backwards while deepening the kiss. Fingers spreading him apart, moving the wet patch enough to get access to his twitching cunt.

Pumping your fingers as slowly as you could make sure he didn’t get too loud or made any noise at all. His wetness leaked all over his cute underwear. Dripping down your fingers only to be shoved into him once again. The burning sensation in his stomach, letting out a shaky sigh and starting to pathetically hump at your twitching length.

"Ugh! are you serious?! who locked the door?!" Luka clenched on your fingers at the sound of the knocking. Eyes hazing even more when he felt you fingers twitch in deeper. With a wet snap you pulled from the kiss jolting up and staring down at luka with panic. Curving his back even more to stop your fingers from leaving him he gasped against you. "D-don't pull out...they'll leave soon!.." Gripping around your neck tighter luka licks at the edge of your lips, desperate for you to continue the kiss that was ripped too soon from him

"Someone get the keys..I need to get something." You almost sobbed when hearing the other person at the other end.

-

Regret overtakes you completely now, had you listened to your head instead of your dick you'd be without a worry. Instead you have Luka pressed inside of your locker, his back arched and hips pushing down on your cock to entice you to move despite the situation you were in. Keeping his mouth shut with a firm hand, though even then he was letting muffled whines and whimpers. Luka's hands grip at your collar tugging you firmly to get your lips to meet. His breath hitched when you finally brush your own on his. "K-kiss me..Kiss me!" Whispering feverishly, clenching around your cock with a nice enough squeeze to milk your tip of whatever you currently had leaking out of it.

Smearing his insides with your precum..leaving a trail. What was yours marked.

All of his body shivers in pleasure..the burning sensation across his skin only getting worse whenever your tip barely ran over his sweet spot. Even though you were exaggeratedly big enough to stretch him nicely you weren’t moving…eyes glancing into the small vents the locker had. Tongue entangling with yours, drool spilling from his lips as he hisses in annoyance. Running his palm down your arms gripping against them before rolling his hips down against your tip only to let a loud enough moan leave him. He loves you so much..he loves all of you…he loves you. He loves only you. Just the feeling of how much love he has makes him crazy…the feeling of you inside of him. Where you belong. He was made just for you, just as you were made for him.

His hips buck up and down on your length in repeat. The wet rips of skin when his cunt unsticks to your cock for a moment. Only to clumsily slam back down..his belly tucking in and out roughly at the rapid grinds of his cunt. Little breaths along with the occasional high pitched whimper not being able to be kept in. You’re not even all the way in and he still sees the small poke of your tip firmly in his stomach. Spreading apart his cunt he makes sure what’s not in him is rubbing against his throbbing clit..pushing the small nub on by pressing down on the fat of his pussy. “You’re s-so big!<3.” Luka mewls in delight.. “if it were anyone else you wouldn’t be able to do it…you can only with me.”

You would’ve found it sweet if it didn’t sound threatening in way. It went over your head completely, only praying both of you wouldn’t get caught because of his whispers.

He feels you clutching at his shirt to stop him from moving..though that seems to only want to make him move even more. “You only look at me…you like this body the most right…?” The wanting look you shoot at him is enough to confirm what he’s asking. His perfect slender body..that he makes sure is always ready for you when you take him. Or when he wants you to take him.

He’s molded you to only love him, to only react to him. No one else but him. Did his wholehearted devotion to you not matter? An ugly hatred fills him towards whatever is keeping you from him and right now it was to whoever you kept looking at in a panic. Unbuttoning his dress shirt he lowered it down enough to where his stomach and chest were visible..breathing out heavily before tugging you down to whisper against your ear. “If you don’t move right now I’ll open the l-locker..” Luka stared up at you with no shame. Hand on the inside lock as he clings around your neck. You felt your heart drop to your feet…sweating out in a cold sweat making you grip him tighter. Of course he would do something like this. It’s not like he cared much to get caught but you? You’d die if that happened.

With a small sniffle you carried him, his legs loosely draped over your arms as he gasped into the kiss you roughly push on him..nails running down your back in glee. His eyes watered at your size..the bump now poking out from his soft tummy. His feet curled happily at how brutally your tip was hitting against him. Your thrusts deep and rough though slow but right now he didn’t seem to care. Gasping and pulling to catch his breath a bit, nibbling on your lips to the point of leaving them bruised and marked. Noticeable teeth marks that you’d later have to explain in shame. Sliding in and out so deliciously he doesn’t even realize as his voice starts to rise. The smacks of his wet cunt on your cock it makes you lean onto his neck for balance.

The cute bunny ears bounce at every movement you make. “Huh..did someone drop this?” Luka almost cried out loud in irritation at your sudden panic. It caused you to quit moving and stay still..eyes shaking in fear since they seemed to be right in front of your locker. Picking up the ribbon Luka had taken off earlier. They started to look around confused…if you didn’t get caught because of Luka wiggling his hips on you, you’d be caught because of how loud your heart was beating. “Just leave it hurry up!! It’s getting busy and we can’t find (Y/N) or Luka..” Your heart leaped out. Biting on your tongue to keep yourself from crying. How embarrassing..while everyone was working hard here you were getting it on. All because you didn’t send a text in the morning..or because you didn’t kiss him.

Finally with the slam of the door you sighed in relief..not that there was any relief to be found anyways. Though you want to be mad and scold Luka all that he deserves, your mad expression doesn’t last long once you look down to see him. “You’re mad right?….but y-you ignored me all day..I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” He sniffles..eyes watering to the brim, lips trembling pathetically.

Sure he had to play the crying card for you. Had you known he wasn’t actually sorry and that he’d been grinning ear to ear if he wasn’t being taken by you, you probably wouldn’t have continued. Luka will apologize to you later for embarrassing you…not for doing it in a locker.

“You’re twitching inside of me..just take me! please say you want me too..that you love me..” He moans..and how could you say no to such a pathetic pretty face. “U-use me! Use me! I’m yours! Mhnhgg!!” His brows raise, eyes flickering at the rough pounding you’re now giving him. Hearts seem to form as he’s being bred just how he loves it.

No stupid rubber in between to stop the two of you from being connected so closely. It seems all that whining and nagging you about it finally worked out for him in the end. Things like that didn’t exist between lovers<3 The dirty wet skin to skin noise flushing your ears warm..moving your hips in need of making him feel good. Of making him feel all of you as an apology for being so mean to him. But it wasn’t your fault. You would’ve been unable to do your work if you were constantly around him dressed like that..maybe you have a thing for his legs. So skinny and easy to pull apart…even now they flopped on your arms from your mean thrusts.

With a clenched jaw his eyes go wide when you happen to abuse a certain spot just right. Your tip rubbing circles around it so nicely…enjoying the grasping of his now gapping cunt around your drenched cock. Losing all strength in his poor thighs. How they twitch and shake yet have no power to push towards you anymore. Slurping himself a kiss of your lips. You’re becoming pussy drunk from just how good he feels around you. Just like that he starts to grow embarrassed..how aggressively he’s gripping around you. Almost as if it’s trying to keep it from the chance of you ever pulling out. His sticky walls tracing and molding every vein or imperfection it spots.

"I love you! I-I love you so much (Y/N)!! Nngh! do you l-love me too?" He cries. Lips littering all over your face, thighs trembling violently from how rough you’re slamming against him. The locker rattles from the pace and all in his mind now is for you to express your love for him. I mean you have to love him too right? He gave you his first kiss, his first time. All his firsts belong to you as well as all his lasts. The world has a better chance of ending before luka lets you leave him. If you didn’t want him so obsessed with you, you should’ve never glanced at him. You should’ve never smiled and spoke so sweetly to him. You shouldn’t have allowed his possessive behavior towards you..should’ve never let him taste your lips for the first time. Because after that he became entirely yours.

“I-it’s hot!! I don’t think I can any-!!” In hearing your cute complains he had to do something quick…now wouldn’t be a good time to stop, you haven’t filled him to the brim yet.

Your lovely boyfriend has a solution for everything. His dress shirt now wrinkled rests up against his shoulders. You buried as deeply as you could. Mouth latched onto his own. Your bigger hands grope at his chest..squeezing and tugging his poor nipples which by now are flushed red. Loose from your hard tugs..and his poor bottom slapped crimson from how long you’ve been fucking him. His face pushed into one of the benches, Sob after sob ripped from him. Because he can’t hold himself up properly his thighs separate..twitching and bucking at the loss of strength overtime. With each slam of your hips they buckle forward..tongue rolling out stupidly making his breath raspy from the constant sucks of air.

This is where he was so happily to belong..spread out for you and taking everything you had to offer. His greed knew no bounds, its all for him. Only him. The sloppy kisses of your cock against his womb. Your hands which wrapped around perfectly on his skinny waist. Leaving bruising fingerprints behind when you squeezed too hard from how good it felt to be inside of him. Body aching so nicely from turning the best he could too leech onto your lips. Despite his size it filled him with pride he could take you<3

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