#(wait. wait did you notice. listen to Behind‚ Barred there's something interesting)

[izzih22]

Gemme some jealous and slight possessive paige. it's kinda hot

What Happens When You Push Her

Note: This is as dirty as yall are prolly ever gonna get from me. Also your welcome😂😂

Warning: Smut

Everyone knew Paige Bueckers was in the room before she even walked in.

You felt her before you saw her like the bass dropped when the door opened. Loud music, low lights, and somehow she still cut through the chaos like gravity. She wasn’t trying to draw eyes. She never did. But they always landed on her anyway.

Paige was the kind of person who made space by standing still.

Tonight she was wearing low-waisted joggers and a tight black crop top that clung in all the right places, a backwards UConn cap tugged low over her eyes. She barely made it two steps into the house before people started calling her name, offering drinks, pulling her into conversations.

She smiled easily. Dapped people up. Gave hugs. Moved through the crowd like she was on stage.

But her eyes were already scanning the room for one person.

Azzi was here somewhere. They’d come together along with KK and Ice, who had shouted something out the window about “hot people arriving” when they pulled up but the moment they walked in, the wave of attention hit, and they got separated.

Paige hadn’t seen her in twenty minutes.

Not a problem. Yet.

Until she caught a glimpse of her.

Azzi was near the bar. Laughing. Talking to some guy with perfect teeth and a shirt two sizes too tight. Paige didn’t recognize him probably not an athlete. Just one of those party crashers who showed up for free drinks and the hope of proximity.

His hand was hovering just above Azzi’s lower back. Not touching. But close enough to make Paige’s jaw tick.

Azzi didn’t move away.

Didn’t look uncomfortable either.

She was smiling.

Paige stared, cup in hand, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Yo,” KK said, stepping up beside her, already clocking the shift in her vibe. “You good?”

“No.”

KK followed her line of sight. “Ohhh.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Pretty sure that’s just one of Jana’s friends. Chill.”

“I’m chill.”

“You’re literally crushing that cup.”

Paige looked down. Her fingers had crumpled the Solo cup without her noticing.

Ice strolled by, clapped her on the shoulder, and said, “Don’t start a fight, Buckets. Not before we even hit midnight.”

Paige didn’t answer. She was too focused.

Because Azzi still hadn’t looked over.

Still hadn’t moved.

Still hadn’t given any indication that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Which, of course, meant she knew exactly what she was doing.

⸻

Azzi felt her before she saw her.

Like always.

It was second nature by now the way her body tuned itself to Paige’s presence, like her muscles leaned toward her on instinct. She didn’t even have to hear her voice to know Paige was here. Didn’t have to turn around to know she was watching.

Azzi could feel it.

She was talking to some guy whose name she already forgot, half-listening to something about pre-law internships, when her skin lit up like a live wire.

She knew that heat.

It was Paige. Watching her.

And Azzi? She didn’t look. Not yet.

She smiled at whatever the guy said. Let her hand rest a little longer than it needed to on the edge of the counter. Tucked a curl behind her ear. Tilted her head like she was so interested.

She knew Paige hated this kind of thing. Hated seeing Azzi entertained by other people. Hated it even more when Azzi did it on purpose.

But Paige had been locked in all week barely there outside of practice, quiet during their nights in, and quick kisses.

Azzi wasn’t mad. She knew the season was long. But she was tired of waiting for Paige to look at her.

So tonight?

She was going to make her.

⸻

Paige let it stew.

Didn’t storm over. Didn’t cause a scene. Just stood back and watched.

Because Azzi wanted her attention?

She had it.

She had all of it.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off her not once. She tracked every touch, every lean-in, every soft smile Azzi gave away like it didn’t belong to someone else.

And when the guy leaned just a little closer when Azzi didn’t move back?

That was it.

Paige didn’t say a word. Just handed her drink off to someone, cracked her neck once, and started walking.

The team noticed immediately.

“She’s about to wreck someone’s life,” Ice said, nudging KK.

“Should we stop her?”

KK shook her head. “Nah. Azzi knows exactly what she’s doing.”

⸻

Azzi heard her first.

Sneakers against hardwood. A steady, deliberate rhythm.

She looked up, and there she was.

Paige. Backwards hat, jaw tight, eyes burning a hole through the guy she was talking to.

Azzi almost smiled.

Almost.

Paige didn’t stop when she reached them. Just slid in between them, so smoothly it looked natural, and put her hand flat on the bar beside Azzi.

“Having fun?” she asked, eyes still on the guy.

Azzi blinked, feigning innocence. “So far.”

The guy, clearly nervous now, glanced between them. “Uh, I didn’t know y’all were…”

“We are,” Paige said. Still not looking at him. “You good?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then leave.”

He did.

And then it was just them.

Azzi leaned back against the bar, slow, deliberate. “Someone’s grumpy.”

“You really want to test me right now?”

Azzi licked her lips. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You let him touch you.”

“He didn’t touch me.”

“He wanted to.”

Azzi tilted her head. “So?”

“So you’re mine.”

Azzi’s breath caught.

And Paige leaned in voice low, dark, and close. “Keep playing if you want. Just know I’m not gonna be nice about it when I finally take you home.”

⸻

Azzi thought Paige would drag her out of the party right then and there.

She was wrong.

Paige stepped back, said nothing, and just… walked away.

Azzi blinked.

“What the—”

Paige didn’t look back.

She wove through the crowd, cool and effortless, slipping into the center of it like gravity. In minutes, she was surrounded with guys she knew from the rec gym, a few upperclassmen athletes, even a couple girls who clearly didn’t mind standing too close when they laughed at whatever she was saying.

And Paige? She let them.

She smiled. She cracked jokes. She leaned against the counter like she didn’t just corner Azzi ten seconds ago and whisper threats against her skin.

Azzi stood there, drink forgotten in her hand, stomach twisted in the best and worst way possible.

Paige was ignoring her.

On purpose.

Azzi’s chest tightened.

She knew Paige. Knew her moods, her silences. Knew the calm before the storm. And this? This was Paige in full control punishing her without even touching her.

Azzi watched her work the room. The little things how people leaned in when she talked, how she laughed with her whole mouth and threw her head back when she really meant it, how she carried herself like nothing and no one could shake her.

She was magnetic.

And she wasn’t looking at Azzi once.

Azzi shifted on her feet. Her palms were damp. She’d started this game, but Paige was winning it.

Badly.

⸻

“Yo,” KK said, sidling up to her with a lopsided grin. “You alive?”

Azzi didn’t answer.

“She’s making you sit in it, huh?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I thought she’d pull me out of here.”

KK whistled. “You must’ve really pissed her off.”

“She’s not mad.”

“Oh, she’s mad,” Ice said, sipping something neon green from a Gatorade bottle. “But the hot kind of mad. Like, wait-until-we’re-alone mad.”

Azzi swallowed hard.

KK gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.

⸻

Azzi tried to stay normal.

Tried to talk to people, tried to finish her drink, tried not to keep glancing over at Paige like a puppy waiting for a command.

But it didn’t work.

Because every time Paige laughed with someone else, every time someone else touched her arm or leaned in a little too long, Azzi’s stomach flipped.

And Paige still didn’t look at her.

Not once.

⸻

It took 40 minutes.

Forty minutes of Azzi pretending not to care. Of Paige pretending she didn’t notice. Of everyone else pretending they weren’t watching this slow, silent war between them unfold in real time.

And then, without a word, Paige looked over her shoulder finally and locked eyes with Azzi from across the room.

Azzi straightened instantly.

Paige lifted her chin once. Just once.

Let’s go.

Azzi moved without hesitation.

No goodbye. No hesitation. She just followed.

⸻

They didn’t speak during the walk back.

Not across the street. Not through campus. Not in the elevator. Not in the hallway of Paige’s dorm building.

Azzi was wound tight. Breathing shallow.

Paige walked in front of her, calm and slow, keys in hand.

She didn’t say a word as she pushed open the door, stepped aside, and waited for Azzi to walk in.

Azzi did.

The door closed behind them.

And then?

Silence.

Azzi turned to say something—

But Paige was already moving.

⸻

It wasn’t a kiss. Not really.

It was a claim.

Paige backed her into the nearest wall and pressed their mouths together with the kind of force that made Azzi gasp. Her hands came up to Paige’s hoodie, fisting it on instinct.

Paige didn’t let her catch her breath.

Just kissed her deeper, mouth hot and demanding, tongue sliding in like she’d waited hours for it.

Azzi moaned into it, her knees going weak instantly.

“Paige—”

“You think that was funny?” Paige growled against her mouth.

Azzi shook her head, lips parted. “No.”

“You think I like watching people look at you like that?”

Azzi swallowed hard. “No.”

Paige grabbed her jaw gently but firmly. “You liked teasing me.”

Azzi blinked, already flushed. “I wanted your attention.”

“You had it,” Paige snapped. “You always have it.”

She kissed her again harder this time until Azzi whimpered and clutched at her shirt like she might fall apart.

And then Paige pulled back just enough to let Azzi breathe.

“Strip,” she said simply. “Then sit on the bed.”

Azzi went without a word.

⸻

Azzi had never been this close to falling apart.

Her whole body trembled, flushed from her chest down to her toes, skin damp with sweat and need. Her thighs shook every time Paige so much as breathed on them. Her voice was hoarse from begging three times denied, three times brought to the edge and yanked cruelly back like a wave that never crashed.

She was flat on her back, legs spread, hands still obediently gripping the edge of the bed like Paige had told her to.

Paige knelt between her legs calm, in control, eyes dark with something dangerous and beautiful.

“You wanted attention,” she murmured, dragging her fingers up Azzi’s thigh so slowly it was unbearable. “Now you’ve got it.”

Azzi moaned, barely able to speak. “Paige…”

Paige leaned in, her mouth brushing hot against her ear. “You don’t come until I say.”

Azzi whimpered, nodding desperately. “I won’t. I won’t.”

“Good girl.”

Paige kissed her again deep and slow and let her hand slide back between Azzi’s thighs.

Azzi gasped.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was everything she needed.

Paige moved her fingers with that same maddening rhythm press, curl, slow drag and Azzi’s entire body arched like a bowstring ready to snap.

She was close.

Too close.

“I—I’m gonna—”

Paige pulled back.

Again.

Azzi cried out, a broken, aching sound that cut the air in half.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

She was so far gone it didn’t even feel like teasing anymore. It felt like worship and torture in the same breath.

Paige moved back up, straddling Azzi’s hips, holding her down.

“You feel that?” she whispered. “That ache?”

Azzi nodded, frantic.

“That’s mine.”

Paige leaned down, kissing the tears off her cheek.

“That desperation? That’s mine too.”

Azzi sobbed a little, still trembling. “Please. I can’t—I can’t take anymore. I need you.”

Paige stroked her cheek, finally softening. “You gonna be good?”

“Yes,” Azzi breathed. “I’ll be so good.”

“You gonna remember who you belong to?”

“I never forgot.”

Paige kissed her slow, firm, unforgiving.

“Then come for me.”

Her fingers moved again and this time, Paige didn’t stop.

Azzi’s body snapped.

She cried out Paige’s name, eyes squeezing shut, back arching as pleasure ripped through her like a flood. Her legs shook uncontrollably, and Paige held her through it kept her grounded, kept her anchored, whispered her through the high as her whole world shattered around her.

It hit her so hard she nearly sobbed.

By the time it passed, she was spent barely breathing, legs twitching, skin slick, tears on her cheeks from the sheer intensity.

Paige kissed her forehead, then her jaw, then the corner of her mouth.

“You did so good,” she whispered. “That’s my girl.”

Azzi clung to her weakly. “That was so mean.”

Paige smiled against her neck. “You started it.”

“I’m never teasing you in public again.”

Paige brushed sweaty curls from her face. “You are. And I’ll do this again.”

Azzi made a soft, exhausted sound and nuzzled into her chest.

Paige pulled the blanket up around her, tucked her close.

“Sleep,” she murmured.

“I love you,” Azzi mumbled.

“I know. I’ve got you.”

Paige kissed her temple, holding her while her breathing slowed.

And for once Azzi didn’t dream.

She didn’t have to.

Paige was already everything she wanted.

[noharaaa]

𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠 (𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 !𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) II

Author’s Note: Disclaimer! This plot is not to encourage drug usage! Don’t do drugs people!

• Reader has no specific gender.

• Parody fic! This is all for jokes.

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Back in your more questionable days, Choi Su Bong was a frequent (and unforgettable) customer. He’d show up at the oddest hours, paying in cryptic compliments and half-finished rhymes while buying from your stash. You were just trying to make a living, but he treated every transaction like a chapter in some epic cosmic romance. He was the aspiring rapper who thought the universe revolved around him, and you were the unlucky drug dealer stuck listening to his "intergalactic" bars. You thought those days were behind you….until now, when fate (or bad karma) brought him crashing back into your life in the most ridiculous way possible.

prev >>> part 3 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Before the next game, Six-Legged Pentathlon, everyone else appeared to be either psyching themselves up or planning their strategies. You had formed alliances well after the first game, teaming up with Se-mi and Min-su, both of whom seem like mentally balanced individuals. But then, as the timer for team formation was coming to an end, you caught a glimpse of something unsettling from the corner of your eye.

purple hair. Of course.

You already knew who it was before you even turned around, you felt him tap on your shoulder as he stood there with Nam-gyu by his side. “Hey, dealer,” he drawled, his purple hair catching the harsh fluorescent lights above. “Miss me?

Before you could say anything, the buzzer rang, locking you into a team with them.

“Great,” you muttered, already feeling a headache creeping up your brain.

As you sat in the circle waiting for the caterpillar race to begin, the five of you were herded to the starting area, each group bound together in teams. You knew a disaster was waiting to happen. You were seated next to Se-mi, while the purple-haired headache was seated on your other side.

And just when you thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted them.

Thanos, slipping Nam-gyu a… pill?

Your eyes widened as Nam-gyu caught your gaze and nudged Thanos, who turned toward you with a grin. “Enjoying the show?” 

You almost rolled your eyes, trying to look anywhere but at the visible build of sweat collecting near his hairline. He was fidgeting like a kid who’d had too much sugar, his leg bouncing up and down like he was ready to launch into orbit.

Classic signs. Oh, great. He’s freaking high.

Nam-gyu leaned over, whispering with an amused grin “Boss said you’re a drug dealer?”

“I was” you corrected sharply, shooting a glare his way. “Past tense.”

“Oh, right. Boss said you were the best.”

Thanos tapped his chest unfazed, “Still got it,” he murmured, shifting his shirt slightly to reveal a silver vintage cross necklace tucked inside. “You know….in case you’re interested.”

“I said im not a dealer anymore. I’m already told you im here to survive, not relive my ‘glory’ days with your… whatever that is.” You gestured at the pill situation vaguely.

“Oh, come on, Dealer! Not even a little for old times’ sake?”

“I’m serious, don’t call me that.”

You folded your arms, determined to ignore him. But then the game announcer’s voice boomed out of the speakers, and you watched as the first group of players was herded to the starting line, their faces pale as ghosts. Your stomach twisted into a knot in ways you hadn’t felt in years.

Okay. New rule, no panicking. you said to yourself.

Except your body did the exact opposite.

As you watched the first few teams fumble their way through the grueling physical challenges, the knot in your stomach tightened. Sweat beaded on your forehead, and your body went stiff..

Thanos noticed your unease because of course he did. He always had a knack for spotting weakness and exploiting it.

“Nervous?” he asked, leaning in just enough to make your skin crawl.

“I’m fine” 

You knew that was a damn lie. You’re scared to death!

“Just a thought you know…” he whispered. “You never know when you might need a little… boost.”

Se-mi moved closer to your side, “Is he for real trying to sell you drugs right now?”

“Apparently. This guy has no off switch.”

He elbowed you softly with his arm in an attempt to get your attention once again. He rotated the pill in his fingers, pretending to check for defects. His lips curled into a sly grin as he shot you a sideways glance.

"Tempting," he whispered at random in English.

You shot him a glare, but your heart was pounding, and your hands were clammy. The anxiety was bubbling up, making it impossible to think straight. You hated that he was there, with that stupid pill and that stupid face offering an easy way out.

“Fine, dammit. Just give it to me” 

Welp! There goes your stubborn pride…..

His grin widened as he pretended to ponder for a moment longer, holding the pill up to the light like it was a precious gem before finally handing it over. “Your wish is my command,”

This guy needs a good punch in the face (gotta make it out of here alive first!).

You swallowed it with a grimace after snatching it from his hand, waiting for the tension in your chest to ease. It wasn't too long before the sensibility of relief crept into your system.

For an oversized grapehead-looking guy? Maybe he wasn't entirely useless, just maybe. But admitting that out loud? Never in your life.

prev >>> part 3 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Author’s Note: (Leave a like! Or reblog! I respond to anyone ❤️)

@nikoeatschemicals

@audrey8864

[3vln]

Prologue, Part 1

Words: 5k+

C.W.: missions, galas, Spain, banter, pre-FATWS, no usage of Y/N, tried to keep Reader as vague as possible (might change in the future), Reader is Widow-trained but mostly uses training for combat training and espionage, dives a little into Black Widow plot, somewhat bilingual (2nd half is set in Spain, tw: Spaniards), no smut yet but will have (so MINORS DNI), smidge of exhibitionism (for the mission, right?)

A/N: If fleshed out how I want it to be, this should be a 4-part story: the Prologue I & II (pre-FATWS) and the Epilogue I & II (during FATWS or CA:BNW). Please, please, please, if anyone wants to proofread future stories, please lmk.

Pairings: Lt. Joaquin Torres x WidowTrained!Reader

Joaquín met her when they were both just starting out in the Air Force—young, restless, and burning off the weight of training with cheap drinks and too-loud laughter in some forgettable dive bar. She was adaptable, mostly quiet, and knew when to get rowdy to keep the vibes going. She wasn’t in his cohort, just another face in the sea of military friendships that came and went. He’d be lying if he didn’t try to get to know her a little in the beginning, but something in her eyes or tone said she wasn’t interested - he’s been met with rejection multiple times to know that tone - and left it at that.

Over time, though, their paths kept crossing. Base assignments, joint training sessions, overlapping missions—until familiarity turned into something steadier. As they climbed the ranks in their respective fields, their work intersected often. But while Joaquín’s role was clear, hers always felt… murkier. She never volunteered details, and he never asked. Still, he noticed things—the way she disappeared without explanation, the way her conversations died the second anyone entered a room. Whatever she did, it wasn’t standard military work.

"Remind me what you’re working on these days," he said, securing the wraps around his knuckles as he eyed the punching bag. He had just arrived at the gym as she was gearing up to leave.

She hummed, filling the environment with a light-hearted air. He knew better, she thought, so she shrugged, “Stuff.”

He chuckled back, shaking his head. “Always so secretive, swear to God,” he muttered, and continued wrapping the other hand. He looked up at her for a moment, and found her smiling at him. She shrugged again in an “oh well’ manner, and went for the exit.

Joaquín felt his chest swell after she left, the flirty look she gave him engraved in his brain - and soon doubting himself if it was something he thought he’d imagined. He wished she’d stay a little longer to get to know her more. 

She wasn’t like that. Or at least, had never seen her be flirty. 

Deep down, she had to admit—he was cute. Not in an obvious, heart-stopping way, but in that boy-next-door kind of charm. Annoying at times, sure, but somehow still endearing.  

"Hey!”

They were in the hallway now, the door clicking shut behind them as Joaquín lingered, still gripping the handle. She arched a brow, waiting. Seconds stretched. His lips parted slightly, as if a thought had almost formed, then—nothing. Joaquín, who always had a sharp remark, a clever comeback—something—found himself choking on silence.  

Her brow furrowed. “No, yeah, good talk,” raising her thumb after a few long seconds.

“No wait,” he sighed, jogging toward her. “Listen, listen. This is… weird… to say,” he started, “and I acknowledge that, but I really don’t know anything about you, and…”

“Yeah….”

He sighed, “I’m not trying to come off wrong, but I’d really like to know you more, what you do – here, at least, you know? I’m just generally interested in your… line of work.” He swayed side to side in his words, trying to find the correct wording to things.

She considered his words. Trying to figure him out, understand what he can or can’t keep up with. He was smiling sheepishly, hoping she would open up a little by his nervous smile. But he was just irritating to look at, at this point, and turned away to walk towards her room, ignoring his protests.

Poor Joaquín Torres didn’t know what he was up against if she took up his request.

-

But of course, that wasn’t up to her, because if there’s something he’d do, is find a way.

“I guess I’ll be joining you and the others for this one, huh?” He walked alongside her, too distracted by his own achievement of joining the woman next to him on the mission she’s leading, to notice her fuming. “I mean, it’s nice, and seems pretty straightforward, and–” in an instant of a moment, she grabbed his arm and shoved him in the nearest supply closet and debated locking him in before stepping in herself and setting things straight. 

“Listen to me carefully,” she whispered inches from his face, a finger on his chest keeping him in place. This was the closest in proximity she’s ever been to him, her closeness putting him at unease. “You will hear my orders; you’ll follow my lead. Do I make myself clear?” 

He looked down at her, the proximity intoxicating him, stilling him. Her face was lethally calm, collected, and serious. He wondered how she could express so much in her voice, while remaining cool and in charge. Something about this was new territory for him, but a new high was building; an excitement that was new to him. He wasn’t sure if it was her pointed finger giving this effect, but he felt his chest clench.

“Do I make myself clear?” she repeated, emphasizing each word. She dug deeper into his chest through his uniform, snapping him out from her trance.

He nodded stupidly. “No, yea-yeah, yes ma’am.”

She held his gaze and groaned after a while, resting her hand on her waist while the other ran through her hair, a headache already taking place. “Jesus.” 

She took a moment to think ahead and plan the debriefs, the strategies, the roles her teams were going to have to play in this mission, and how Joaquín could be an active player in all of this…. from a distance.

“I think you should have a little faith in me,” Joaquín said, his voice light but laced with sincerity. She studied him for a moment, taking in the way his expression softened just slightly—earnest, hopeful. He was an eager guy. She’d give him that. “I’m just trying to learn, that’s all. I think it’ll be good to be a sort of jack-of-all-trades type, you know? Kick ass,” a karate chop, “be the ‘computer guy’,” fingers feigning typing; that earned him a scoff, “do spy stuff–”

“‘Computer guy’?”

“Yeah, the-the guy with the comms and stuff in the mission and the-” he snapped his fingers trying to find better words.

“Yeah I don’t know….”

“You do know,” he said, exasperated.

She blew raspberries, “You mean like a Communications Specialist?”

“Well, sure, and–”

She smirked. “Ok well, you have to get better at communicating,” she chuckled 

The corner of his mouth twitched at her teasing, but something about the way she laughed, effortless and a little self-satisfied, made something twist in his chest. He tried to ignore it. Instead, he exhaled sharply and cocked his head. “Oh, you think you’re funny?”

“Yeah, hilarious, actually,” she stated matter-of-factly. She bobbed her head side to side, “It’s a burden, really. A gift and a curse.”

Joaquín let a beat pass before he gave her a lazy, knowing smirk. “Yeah?” His voice was lower this time, something smug and amused settling into the word. Something about that Yeah sent an inexplicable shiver up her spine. “More like a curse, I’d say.”

She clutched her chest, feigning hurt. “Woah, that was almost as sharp as my wit.” 

“Yours is as sharp as a butter knife. Dull and mildly annoying.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh please Joaquín, that’s all you.”

He mirrored her stance, crossing his arms right back, eyes twinkling. “And yet, here you are. Must be captivated,” he grinned.

She rolled her eyes, and started towards the door, “Whatever, more like suffering through it with grace.”

“Ah!” He nodded his head with a gotcha look, “so you admit I have a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“Yeah… ‘je’ no sé why I’m still talking to you,” she waved him off and started walking out of the supply closet. "Just, follow my lead when we get to Spain." Joaquín rocked back on his heels, smiling curiously to himself.

“Wait! So, when do we go into the details?” he called after a distance.

She didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around—just threw up a lazy wave over her shoulder. 

- 

It was during this mission that Joaquín started to understand her a little more. Before, she’d always been a bit of a mystery—never offering much about herself, never filling in the gaps. She never liked talking about herself. Maybe it was habit, maybe it was survival, but letting people in had never been something she did. Information was a liability. It could be twisted, used against her, turned into a weakness. And yet, here she was—sharing pieces of her past over frozen yogurt on a quiet evening in Madrid.

“I’ve heard about the Red Room, thought it was just a conspiracy,” he mused, spooning another bite of frozen yogurt into his mouth.

“Nope, was the real deal,” she nodded.

They had just wrapped up an infiltration, posing as CIA informants to dismantle an underground operation. Joaquín had handled himself well, but tonight, for the first time, he seemed to really see her. Not just as a teammate, or someone filling in the gaps between departments, but as a whole person—one with a history, one with ghosts.

“So why the Air Force?” he asked after a beat. His voice was casual, but there was something beneath it—genuine curiosity. “I mean, with everything you know, why not just—” he gestured vaguely, “S.H.I.E.L.D. or something?”

She considered that, tapping her spoon against the rim of her cup. “Oh, I am,” she admitted with a chuckle. “That’s probably why you barely see me.”

Joaquín blinked, then leaned back in his chair, nodding as realization settled in.

“What Dreykov did, it was rough. All of the Red Room thing in its entirety. But I learned to fly planes, it was my specialty, or trained mostly on. I figured the Air Force was the most straightforward choice. I just needed approval to join since ‘immigration’ and whatnot,” she yawned. 

Joaquín hummed in understanding. He respected that. No probing, no need to drag out things she wasn’t willing to elaborate on.

He scraped the last of his frozen yogurt from the cup and grinned. “Alright, last question.”

She deadpanned. “It’s never the last question with you.”

“Promise, this time it is.” He held up two fingers in mock oath before leaning in slightly, eyes glinting. “Did you ever meet Natasha Romanoff? Like, the Avenger?”

She gave him a long, unimpressed look. 

Joaquín just grinned wider.

She chuckled. “Nah.” She tried recalling back to her time while training, and heard about the infamous redhead that escaped Dreykov’s reach. She was the reason the Widows became chemically rewired to follow his orders–not that she blames her or anything. She mostly remembers the scientist one, Melina; she’d show up on base from time to time. “Anyways, I’m tired, and we have an early plane to catch tomorrow.”

As expected, his “last question” was never really a last. Walking to the hotel, he kept asking about her past, what she remembers about her childhood, questions about the chemical that had the Widows under Dreykov’s spell. A lot of them she didn’t really care to answer, others were just too personal to share. It was getting really exhausting, until she told him to shut up.

“How’d you learn Spanish?” he finally asked. It was like she told him something from one ear and out the other. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t think I heard that little ‘no sé’ lingo in there from last week,” he shimmied. “Even here, hearing you speak Spanish, it’s perfect Spanish.” 

“Honestly Joaquín, you’re like a nonstop yapper, how do you have the energy after all this time?”

“Wha–I’m just curious!” he grinned.

“Yeah good night.” She stepped into her hotel room, adjacent to Joaquin’s own room. The rest of the team had their own rooms as well, sprawled out across the hotel, all possibly in their bed asleep, or working on their briefs or reports. Others probably out partying. Whatever the case, she was just glad to be heading home soon. She sighed. 

There was just one last thing to do before she could call it a night.

The night's mission wasn’t complicated—no intel to extract, no targets to eliminate. A simple side job. Something she could handle in a few hours, then return like nothing had happened.

She slipped into a black cocktail dress, the fabric sleek against her skin, something that would help her effortlessly blending in with the right crowd. She pinned her hair up with a clip-on fringe for a 90s updo, a few strands framing her face just right. The disguise wasn’t elaborate, but it didn’t need to be. The right outfit, the right posture, and people only saw what they wanted to see—a woman heading out for the night, nothing more.

She made her way down, weaving through the soft hum of conversation in the lobby, heels clicking against polished marble. She didn’t notice Joaquín sitting at the bar, sharing drinks and laughter with a few others from earlier.

But he noticed her.

At first, he barely registered her—a pretty stranger dressed to kill, a woman disappearing into the night. But then something tugged at his subconscious. The frame of her shoulders. The way she carried herself, poised yet alert. He frowned, lips parting slightly.

She had told him she was exhausted, ready to crash. But the moment she stepped under the golden glow of the chandeliers, something in the way she moved confirmed it. It’s her.

Joaquín straightened, setting down his glass. She looked different—glamorous, effortless, like a damn movie star. The strapless dress hugged her in a way that made it impossible not to stare. But beyond that, beyond how good she looked, something didn’t sit right.

He excused himself from the group without explanation, watching as she slipped through the lobby doors. His mouth opened to call her name, but he stopped himself. Instead, he followed, keeping his distance.

She didn’t hesitate at the curb, stepping into a black car with the ease of someone who had planned every second of her evening. As the car pulled away, the neon lights from the street flickered across her face, and for the briefest moment, her side profile was unmistakable.

Joaquín’s jaw clenched.

Something in his gut twisted. Whatever she was up to—it wasn’t just a night out.

And he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Follow that car,” he ordered the taxi driver, pointing out to the sleek car ahead of him. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, but he didn’t trust that she’d all of a sudden decided to get up, get pretty, and go clubbing. If she had, then this would be one big misunderstanding, and there was more to her he didn’t know. But what if this version of her is an evil clone and the real one was back at the hotel, injured? Guess he’d have to find out later.

He pulled up to a museum, an event taking place with lots of seemingly important people dressed up to the nines. He looked at his attire after stepping out of the car, and looked like he was ready to wander the wilderness or play pool, not waltz into high society. 

Amongst the crowd, he spotted her messy updo, by some stranger’s arm, laughing. Given the fake bangs, making flirty eyes at this balding guy, and laughing, he deduced she was possibly on a mission. He frowned, something had to give.

He made his way to the back entrance, where the staff was most likely entering from. His palms were sweaty, not sure if this little rendezvous was worth the risk. He never really thought things through, just ran with his first thought, until he realized he needed to think things through more. 

The museum kitchen was a controlled explosive environment. Expletives being yelled out in Spanish. Servers coming in and out of doors with equal enthusiasm with their own expletives. But everyone knew their place, and if he didn’t move past, people would catch on he wasn’t from there. But God the smell of the food getting prepped was incredible. 

He moved past the kitchen towards what he thought were the lockers, and couldn’t believe his luck when he got his hands on an extra all black attire someone had left, likely what the servers were wearing for the evening, and one of someone who was most likely late. It was a little tight, but nothing he didn’t feel uncomfortable with.

“¡Cava! ¡Vamos, vamos chicos! ¡Que no tenemos toda la noche!” someone had started to yell to get the champagne out. 

Joaquin walked out without anything in hand trying to find her-- that was a mistake.

“Oye, ¡tio! Pero que os haces? Aqui, valé. En andar.” The same man gave Joaquin his tray of Spanish champagne flutes to present to the guests and hurried him along. He muttered a quick “valé” to blend and started walking around, looking for his target. 

The museum was grand. Artwork displayed for everyone, the guests looked wealthy - more than he would make in his lifetime. He would stop to occasionally look at a piece, and continue to play his part in pretending to be the flute guy, eyes in search of her. 

He spent a good 10 minutes until he spotted the messy updo walk up a set of stairs with a different guy, smiling and laughing, making conversation and entering a secluded wing of the museum. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to think. This wasn’t his mission, but his gut told him to keep watching. He needed to move without drawing attention, so he grabbed a new tray of champagne flutes from the bar, slipping into the role of an event server. The disguise wasn’t perfect, but in a place like this, people only paid attention if you gave them a reason to.

Balancing the tray in one hand, he made his way toward the wing—only to catch sight of her again, walking in the opposite direction across an overhead walkway, headed for the upstairs terrace. What the hell is she up to? 

Joaquín hesitated for half a second before following. He had no plan beyond figure out what’s going on, but he’d deal with that part once he got there.

Stepping onto the terrace, he set the tray down, scanning the area. A breeze rustled through the cypress trees lining the edge, their dense branches concealing an exit. He was just about to check when—

A sharp yank at his collar dragged him backward.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Torres.”

Oh she’s pissed.

“Hey! Oh hey, I…” he started. He tapped his thighs, thinking of something to say. There was no use lying, she earlier mentioned she has a good bullshit detector, making him hyper-aware of every nervous tell he might have. He wasn’t a good liar, either way. 

“Torres,” she pressed. “Go back to the hotel.”

“Why are you here? I thought you were too tired to go out,” Joaquín shot back.

“Confidential,” she curtly spit. She didn’t like that he was really prying now. 

He frowned, “I don’t like this, we’re supposed to be a team–all of us. Why are you on a side mission? On your own?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to know the truth, or how much she could tell him before he pressed for more. Or how much he could contribute to the mission now that he was here.

Joaquín took a step back, studying her. His gaze flickered up to her hair, and his expression shifted.

“And what's up with your hair?” He narrowed his eyes, then smirked. “Actually, this Pamela Anderson vibe you got going on? Real sexy, not gonna lie.”

She scoffed, taken aback, “What's up with your wardrobe, why are you dressed as a server? Are you spying on me?”

“No,” he shook his head, his high pitch tone giving him away.

“Santa María, madre de Dios…” she groaned, pacing back and forth. “Listen, I really don’t have time for this, just go back to the hotel, or be my ride for the night but just, keep yourself busy, I’m working here.”

“And another thing! That.” Joaquín pointed at her. “That’s what I mean, how do you know Spanish? That isn’t just textbook level Spanish you learn through fucking–Duolingo!” he gestured wildly. 

Her patience snapped. “Joaquín, por favor, que te parto la madre. Hazte.”

He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. He knew when to quit—mostly because he was sure she could and would kick his ass if he didn’t. He stepped aside, silently letting her pass. 

On the way towards the entrance, she stopped before going in, he watched as she hovered there, shoulders tense, debating something. Then, finally, she turned back to face him.. “I… I have to do this thing later. If you want to make yourself useful, guard the door when I ask you to. And if you see anything, don’t… question it.” 

He frowned at her curiously, and nodded.

She huffed, like she’d just given something away she hadn’t meant to, then slipped inside. 

-

As if they had rehearsed this numerous times, she found Joaquín to make an excellent improv partner. As he was serving more flutes, and later hors d'oeuvres, she was schmoozing with the elites. He never really understood what she was doing. To him, it looked like she was networking, talking with peers. Flirting with men because she was bored. And damn she’s a natural. He wondered why he never saw this side of her. Whatever the case, she looked good. 

But to her, this was part of the job. She didn’t mind the small talk, the ditzy persona. It was fun to play pretend, and flirt with the men and women available. This would end up leading to the main guy she was in search of. 

“<<Yeah, Ivan and I go way back,>>” one of the drunk men slurred, leaning in close. “<<the guy’s great, I bet he’d like to meet your pretty face.>>”

“Ah, ¿si?” she grinned.

The man nodded eagerly, his eyes a little too glazed to be fully present. “<<He has a weakness for pretty girls, I can’t blame him. The dude can spot dimes from a mile away. You’re his type for sure. Maybe we can have a good evening together? And bring a friend for a good time all four of us.>>”

She bit her lower lip, feigning interest. “<<Don’t tempt me with a good time.>>”

“¿Croquetas de pollo?” Joaquín interjected with a plate of Spanish tapas, his eyebrow quirked in that teasing way he knew would annoy her. 

The male just shook his hand, eyes not paying attention to Joaquín.

She followed his lead, shaking her hand to shoo him off. God, he was so annoying.

“¿Qué te parece si vemos ‘ese tipo Iván, hm?” she purred, letting her voice dip into something more seductive.

The male’s eyes lit, a type of hunger scanning her, thinking of the different ways he’d like to have her in. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but the smile never left her lips. This was the part she hated—this look they gave her—but it was all part of the dance. Keep it light, keep it playful, and lead them exactly where she needed them to go. “Vamos,” he said as he pulled her hand between his, caressing her. 

Just before he strung her along further, she stopped in front of Joaquín to grab a piece of croqueta and held it up to thank him for it, silently telling him to standby. It was communication through the eyes, one where she was actually thanking him for sticking by, and not for the stupid piece of chicken meat he was offering her. He dipped his chin in understanding, barely mouthing a go.

Whatever this thing she was doing, it was one that he knew she could handle by herself, but he figured it was nice to have a partner in this. He watched her go up the stairs into the wing once more, and didn’t see her again. He wondered what she’d be doing, and felt sick if these were the types of missions she’d gone through during her years as a Widow.

He forced himself back into his fake role, serving tapas, keeping his hands busy, trying to anchor himself in the mundane. But his mind wouldn’t stay put. It kept drifting—to the slit of her dress, the way her long legs moved effortlessly through the crowd. The velvety fabric that clung to her, the shimmer at her collarbone catching the soft light.

To him, ella era la luna personificada.

Her lips—shining, plush. How they might feel against his own. How they might taste.

Joaquín exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Focus. He had croquetas de pollo to serve, champagne to pour. Not this.

This was Red Room training, he reasoned. The art of seduction. The carefully crafted illusion of a siren—luring men in with a glance, a smile, a whisper in the dark. And when the time called, strike at a moment’s notice. 

He let out a breath. If she was anything like the person she was during the morning’s mission, he knew she’d be okay. He’d seen how she maneuvered, how she struck with precision. That woman didn’t need saving. She didn’t even need backup. The more he thought about her skill, the sharper his confidence in her became.

As he walked around carrying a round of, now champagne, for the guests, he was met with a hand on his back, making its way down his arm. He felt a chill go down his spine, and saw her, a little frazzled, but composed.

“Me parece que querrán más tapas y cava,” she murmured, smooth, practiced.

Joaquín smirked, inclining his head in mock obedience. “En seguida.”

And then, just like that—a wink. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, and made her way to the women’s bathroom.

Joaquín wasn’t sure what was really going on now, but he was just glad to be a part of it. With a tray of Spanish champagne at hand, he made his way up the stairs with her, into the right wing of the museum. This side of the museum was dimly lit, and he started feeling unsure of himself. But she was leading him to a room, confidently walking with grace, as if she owned the place. He liked this about her. She was confident about everything. Never faltering to new things. She led with caution certain times, but confident nonetheless.

“You look real good,” his words escaped him. He mentally kicked himself.

She looked back, studying him for a moment if the champagne had gotten to him, but no. Figured this was the real Joaquín speaking. A little brash, or with little thought process, but still him. “Thanks,” she chirped over her shoulder. 

“Now,” she began, stopping behind some big doors, “remember what I told you–if you see something, stay quiet.”

He nodded, unsure, “yeah, sure.” 

On the other side of the doors, two bodies were over a couch, one on top of the other, half-naked. Joaquín’s eyes grew, and looked at her incredulously. She was making her way towards a desk, leaning forward to focus on what was on the display screen. He figured he'd ask about that later. “Get on watchdog duty; let me know if you hear steps nearby.”

He fake saluted and made his way out, leaving the flutes near the desk. “So what exactly are you doing?” he asked.

“Joaquín, hush,” she sang absentmindedly, and he closed the door.

The small USB drive she carried in her garter was taken out and inserted into the hard drive.

She thought she wasn’t going to need to extract information or execute anyone for the night. At least one of them is true. She was supposed to be pure arm candy and eavesdrop on a few conversations. But as soon as she got a hold of this Ivan guy, she knew she couldn’t miss out on this opportunity.

This wasn’t an overall SHIELD operation, but it was one she knew the information would be useful to pass along. She’d leave everything untouched after she was done, no proof that she was ever near the computer. As for the men on the couch? They were simply…asleep. Halfway through their ravenous evening, they were met with a strong desire for sleep, and she left them at that. In the morning, or if someone found them, they’d just think they had 1 too many drinks and that things led from one thing to another between them. She’d done her research on them to know it was a possible outcome.  

She looked at the monitor, only 85% of the extraction was downloaded. It was a lot slower than usual, but there were a lot of orgs, addresses, and key clients to take down. 

“Hey,” Joaquín stepped in, nodding towards the hallway, “footsteps.”

Fuck, she saw 87% on the screen. 

She glanced at Joaquín, already knowing what she had to do. If this went sideways, he could not be caught up in it.

“Take the tray of flutes,” she whispered, nodding toward the passed-out men on the couch. “Put it on the side table near them. Then leave through those doors.” She flicked her eyes to the set opposite the main hallway. “They lead to a corridor of lecture rooms. Find the exit.”

Joaquín hesitated, eyes flicking to the doors. He hadn’t expected them to lead anywhere but another room.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

He didn’t trust that she’d get this done in time, the footsteps were fairly close, but he needed to take the plunge. She was capable and he trusted that. He exhaled sharply and slipped through the doors.

Darkness.

Dimly lit artwork lined the corridor. For a split second, he thought he’d made a mistake and doubled back into the main hallway. He needed to find the lecture rooms. The exit. Fast.

Joaquín picked a direction and sprinted left. At the end of the hall, he skidded to a stop, swearing under his breath. No lecture rooms. No exit sign, just more hallways with artwork.

"Fuck… fucking—" He clenched his jaw. Why couldn’t she give clear instructions?

He heard the doors open of the room he’d just left, and quickly pressed himself against the wall, breath held. Heels clicked against the floor—sharp, steady. He risked a glance.

She moved fast, slipping through the opposite direction, already working to kick off her heels. Smart. In a matter of seconds, she was gone—disappearing around the left corner at the far end of the hallway.

The doors opened again, and this time, security. Joaquín stilled. One of them stepped out, scanning for movement. A pause. Then, they retreated back inside.

He figured it was now or never, and sprinted towards the opposite side of the hallway, hoping he wouldn’t get caught, and quickly turned to the left. He stopped to find a big lecture hall in front of him, and cursed her. Now where was that stupid exit?

The doors opened behind him again, “<<Yeah, I’m gonna check it out.>>” the security spoke, alerting their teammates.

Joaquín’s pulse spiked. He scanned his surroundings—options, options— there.

Joaquín spotted an empty conference room near the lecture hall and shoved the door open. Frosted glass walls—semi-private, good enough.

He caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eye, the movement a second too late, barely deflecting the knife with a high kick, twisting just enough to shield his ribs.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated, incredulous, steadying himself.

“It’s a wonder how you moved in that tight-ass suit.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later—someone’s coming.” He adjusted his pants, glancing toward the door. Heavy footsteps. Too close.

She exhaled sharply, brain working fast. A stupid idea surfaced, ridiculous but effective. Her lips parted in amusement before she said it.

“Kiss me.”

Joaquín blinked. “What?”

She stepped closer, urgency in her gaze. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. If we look like drunk guests sneaking away for some ‘alone time,’ they won’t question it.”

Joaquín hesitated, searching her face like he wasn’t sure if this was just part of the job, or if she was messing with him.

Trust me, her eyes seemed to say. And finally, he did.

His hand found her waist, the other tilting her chin up. A split second of hesitation, then—

Her breath hitched as his lips met hers, soft but firm, tasting of heat and something unspoken. It started slow, deliberate, but the second she parted her lips, it shifted into something else. Something dangerous.

Joaquín followed her lead, and she let him. His fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against him, and—fuck—he was a fast learner.

To him, she tasted like something sweet and dangerous, like champagne and trouble, lips parted just enough to draw him in. Her fingers curled into his hair, and just like that, he lost the thread of where performance ended and something real began.

She pulled him in, deeper, fingers threading into his curls. The table pressed against the backs of her thighs, and she let herself be lifted onto it, legs bracketing him.

From the hallway, voices neared. Slowed.

She knew better than to react, but Joaquín turned slightly, just enough to see their shadows lingering. Watching. He tightened his grip, selling the performance. 

For them. For the cover.

That’s what she told herself, at least.

But to him, the way she responded—the way she kissed back—made him forget, just for a second, that this was an act at all.

She made a small sound against his lips—something like a sigh, something like surrender——and any rational thought disappeared. His hand skimmed up her thigh, gripping firm, thumb pressing into soft skin, feeling the heat of her beneath the dress. She leaned into it. Into him. Joaquín deepened the kiss, angling it, molding her closer. 

Was it still an act? Because the way she kissed him back—the way she melted against him—made his chest tighten, his stomach coil.

His thumb dragged across her jaw, slow, almost reverent—possessive—and he felt her shiver.

Fuck.

His hips rocked forward before he could stop himself, chasing some kind of relief from the tension knotting between them. Her breath stuttered, nails digging into his shoulders, and—

A muttered curse. The sound of footsteps retreating.

The second the coast was clear, she pulled back. Blinking. As if shaking off something thick and consuming.

For a beat, neither of them moved. The air between them felt thick. Charged.

Her lips were swollen. So were his.

Joaquín looked at her—really looked at her—like he was trying to untangle something he hadn’t expected to feel.

She cleared her throat, her voice almost steady. “Nice work,” she murmured. She meant it.

But she also meant, we’re not talking about this.

Joaquín didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at her. Like he was trying to solve something he hadn’t expected to want an answer to. And he wasn’t sure if the moment had ended.

And the worst part? She wasn’t sure either.

[thisismyhell]

Stuck in the Elevator | pt. 2

Summary: getting drinks at the bar after work, you take advantage of the doctor's willingness to follow you. When the stakes are raised, can he build the confidence to return the favour?

pt. 1

Warnings: smut, making out, oral (m receiving), dom!reader, sub!spencer

Since the incident in the elevator, Spencer couldn’t stop running your words through his brain. You told him you owed him. The two of you had touched each other in the elevator, and he finished in his pants. He didn’t mean to do this but you seemed to have that effect on him. 

“Spence, you coming for drinks with us?” You asked him a simple question but he shot up at his desk like he heard a gun go off. You giggled at this, always amused at his reactions to you. You leaned over his desk, looking him up and down, “Well? Are you?”

“Um-yeah, sure? Who, who else is going?”

“Us and the team, been a hard day is all. Emily figured we could use it.”

Emily. He knew she was behind something but he wasn’t sure what. Whatever was about to happen at the bar tonight, he’d be sure to remember her name was somehow behind it. 

Spencer arrives last to the bar and realizes there is only one spot left in the booth with the team, and it is beside you. He sits down beside you with his drink, and you raise your glass to cheers him. “Wait, we have to make eye contact while we cheers”, “why?”

“It’s 7 years of bad sex if we don’t”. You hold his eye contact and watch as his cheeks darken, he fixes his glasses before clinking your glass with his. You’re drinking a margarita and you take the time to lick the salt off the rim of your glass before taking a sip. Spencer notices and almost chokes on his whiskey. You giggle at his mistake and put your hand on his thigh, making sure he was okay. 

He’s about to say something to you but you turn away and join back in the group conversation. Spencer tries his best but you still have your hand on his leg and his breathing has changed. 

“So y/n.. I always see you on the apps at work. Any luck with all that?” Emily prods you. 

“Listen, I just need a good lay. It’s not the same doing it by myself, ya know?”

“Oh I know, sugar. Trust me, there’s plenty of men and women in this bar that would be happy to help.” Garcia points around to prove her point, not necessarily looking at Spencer. 

Emily definitely knew about your interaction in the elevator, but did anyone else? Was Garcia implying that Reid couldn’t help you with this? He knows female anatomy, and he knew he was on the right track. He ran out of time, that was all. He could have made you finish if the dumb elevator had stayed put. He takes another sip of his drink and feels your grip on him strengthen. As he puts the glass back down, your hand starts creeping up his thigh. If your hand got any closer you’d be able to feel how hard he was getting. 

“The vibe is immaculate at this table, but I really think we ought to be dancing!” Garcia exclaims, pulling Emily out of the booth and onto the dancefloor. Reid exits the booth to let you out and sits back down, but not before you grab his ass on the way. 

He gulps and sits to watch you and the girls dance, finally letting loose after a long week. 

“Reid, I think that girl at the bar is eyeing you” Morgan points out. 

Spencer looks over and notices the blonde at the bar, ‘Oh, yeah I guess so”. 

“Sooo, you gonna go get her a drink? Or should I?”

“I’m not interested. Go ahead.”

Morgan leaves him alone in the booth to pursue a more interesting night. 

Spencer looks back over to the dance floor, seeing you, Emily and Garcia dancing together. You’re wearing a black tanktop and jeans, showing off your body without your regular uniform. The BAU is pretty lenient with your dress code when you’re not in the field, but Reid had never seen your shoulders on display like this. Even from his seat he can see the sweat on your body and your hair clinking to it. He wishes he was the one to make you sweat. Your shirt is riding up and he has a perfect view of your tummy and your ass as you dance around. 

Reid realizes how uncomfortable his pants have become, and when he looks down he positions his legs further under the table. He has to get to the bathroom, but he has to go through the dance floor in order to do that. He would have to walk right through you, and he knows that won’t go well. 

He takes a beat and makes the decision. Standing up and making his way to the bathroom, he tried to go around you. Obviously that wasn’t going to work, and you snag your finger in his belt loop as he passes. Pulling him closer by his hips to yours, you can feel what he was trying to hide. 

“God, you’re so easy” you purr against his ear. 

“I-, I don’t know what you’re talking about”. 

“The music’s too loud, I can’t hear whatever you’re lying about.”

You put your mouth on his and he gives in embarrassingly quickly. You notice how nervous he is and you take his hands and place them on your waist as you put your tongue down his throat. You feel him groan into you and he feels a small amount of shame being in public like this. But he can’t help it. He can smell you even better and feel your sweat against him. With his hands on your bare waist, he puts the tips of his fingers just below your tank. 

You put your arms around his neck and melt into him, trying to get him to calm down. Even though you can feel his boner, his hands are shaking and he keeps trying to pull away and talk to you. 

Finally pulling away, you look right at him. “Are you trying to talk to me? Right now?”

“Y/n, I was just- I mean we’re right out in front-”

You take his wrist and drag him to the bathroom he was trying to get to. He’s mumbling the way there and you keep rolling your eyes. Once in the bathroom, you lock the door and press his body against it. “What are you talking about? Will you shut up?”

“I was trying to say that anyone could see us, that we weren’t in private even though you were touching-”

“I know anyone could have seen us. If you weren’t busy kissing me you would have notices multiple other couples doing the same thing”

“Other couples? Are we-”

“Doctor, you aren’t paying attention.” Spencer had failed to notice that while he was stuttering, you managed to unbutton his pants and undo his belt buckle. You could see the pattern of his boxer briefs and he was blushing. 

“Math equations?”

“I feel like that isn’t surprising all things considered-”

He stopped talking as you kneeled down on the ground, taking his pants and underwear with you. He sprung free, touching his belly button. 

“Baby…”

“Y/n! I- last time you made me-”

He shut up when you put him in your mouth, looking up at him with doe eyes. His mouth was open looking down at you, feeling his tip touch the back of your throat. It all happened so fast he wasn’t able to process it quick enough. Once your mouth started moving, his head hit the door and he succumbed to the feeling. You held his balls in your hand and jerked what couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

Spencer was trying to breathe deeply, but all his breaths were coming out shallow and high pitched. Pulling your mouth off you asked, “has anyone ever done this to you before, baby?”

He looked down at you, watching you jerk him off with spit dripping down your chin. 

“No…you’re the first, y/n…you’re…the first…”

This brought you joy, being the first to suck his pretty cock. How could it not? You put him back in your mouth and began sucking, running your tongue over him. Reid couldn’t even try to hold back, simply overcome with pleasure he had never experienced before. He began thrusting into you, gently placing his hand on the top of your head. You took his hand and forced him to grab your hair, making him mouth fuck you harder. 

This spurred him on and he felt less guilty about what he was doing. Still vulnerable, but less scared. He thrusted into your mouth and he savoured the feeling of your tongue on this new part of him. And you seemed to like it. To really, really like it. 

He was whimpering and you were trying to grind down on something but you couldn’t. Nothing was there for you to feel yet, but soon. You began to go faster, trying to make him finish down your throat. 

“Y/n, I-, I’m gonna-”

You broke away, “do it, Doctor, I dare you” then continued your actions. 

He couldn’t help it. You looked so pretty on your knees, and he had the perfect view down your shirt. He could see your ass sticking out behind you with your knees digging into the hard floor. Your eyes were glossy looking up at him with spit dripping down your chin. His cock was in your mouth and he was outwardly whimpering, almost crying out of pleasure. He couldn’t help it, he had no choice but to finish just like this. 

So he did. He moaned as his jaw slackened, holding your eye contact as you swallowed. You kept going until he was finished, almost over stimulating him until he pulled himself out of your mouth himself. He realized then that you would have kept going if he didn’t stop you. 

You wiped your mouth on his thigh, leaving some of the evidence behind. Standing back up you kissed him before he could catch his breath. He could taste himself on your tongue and he didn’t mind. It was like taking a claim, further proof of what had just happened. You had his taste in your mouth and he was hoping it stayed there long enough to remember. 

“Did you-, did you enjoy that?” he asks sheepishly. 

“Baby. Don’t be stupid.” You kissed him one last time before opening the door and walking back to the bar. 

Spencer was left behind, cleaning himself up in the bathroom before leaving. He needed to gain some confidence. You have made him finish twice now and he hasn’t been able to return the favour. He thinks that you believe he can’t do it. He washes his hands and follows you. 

You’re dancing with Garcia when you feel a hand grab your waist, leading you away and towards the door. 

“We’re leaving.” Reid tells you, not a question. 

“Finally. It’s about time.”

[futurewdclandonorris]

A Helping Hand | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: feeling frustrated, you go to George for some aid where he offers to help you blow off some steam

Warnings: smut

A/N: goodness, this is the most I've spent on proofreading, rewriting and editing than on any of my other fics, probably because I babied this idea for a long time 💀 and probably because I was sick for the past few days that I couldn't do anything else except thinking about George taking care of me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it 🥰

You were frustrated. The irritation was welling up inside you, and there was no telling why. And nothing going your way wasn’t helping either. But what it is that you always do whenever you feel like this?

You go to George.

George and you were best friends for as long as you could remember. He played enormous role in your life, in a way that you would often refer to him as an older brother. No one else even came close to being as important to you as he was. He was always there to listen when you needed to rant about something, and the two of you were just as comfortable sitting in silence as you were engaging in deep conversations. Today was no different.

You walked over to George's apartment, knowing that he wouldn't mind your unannounced visit. You knocked on the door and waited a few moments before he answered, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to vent about. The door opened, revealing George’s smiling face.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “What’s got you so worked up?” he questioned upon seeing your slumped shoulders and frowning face.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just know I’m feeling a lot and it’s not good.” you walked further into his apartment, running a hand through your hair.

George followed behind you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, "I don't even know what's bothering me. I'm just feeling so damn… restless." and leaned against his kitchen bar.

George nodded his head, eyes fixed on your face. He knew that look and the manner in which you spoke. George had experienced this before with you. You would continue to speak until the words dried up, and he knew it was in his best interest to listen attentively. And he wanted to do just that. To be a friend and not interrupt for once your thoughts were drifting by. He loved the feeling of neediness you gave him.

So you started to spill your troubles. From everything that happened to you since you woke up to this very moment in the afternoon. He listened patiently, nodding and frowning in all the right places. You continued to talk, your words flowing out in a jumbled mess as you tried to make sense of your emotions. George listened intently, offering words of encouragement when needed. As you spoke, he moved closer to you.

It wasn’t a subtle move, you very much noticed him getting up and walking up to you, caging you in between his arms he rested on the counter behind you. He bowed his head so that his eyes were in level with yours and leaned forward, the words dying on your lips as he did so. Your faces were now only inches away, the air around you charged.

“When was the last time you got laid?” he asked.

You were taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “W-What?”

He took a step back, giving you space to breathe. “You, my friend, are sexually frustrated.”

You hadn't been with anyone in a while, he was right, like he always was, but “And how do you know that?” there was annoyance in your voice as you crossed your arms.

He sat down in one of his kitchen chairs, leaning on the table behind and legs spread lightly.  “How long have we been friends for?”

“Almost twenty years. Why?” you frowned, not really seeing the point of this conversation.

He gave a slight nod in agreement. “And in that long period of time you think I wouldn’t have learned your,” his gaze traveled up your body until it finally settled on your eyes, “body language?” his tongue clicked.

You swallowed hard, feeling the atmosphere between you two shift. There was definitely an undercurrent of something more, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to go there just yet.

“This-That has nothing to do with this.” you choked out.

“So you’re saying,” he moved his head from side to side. “If I offered you a solution you would say no?” his eyes found yours again and his gaze was piercing.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as George's eyes locked with yours. You had expected a hug or some words of comfort, not a proposition. You knew what he was insinuating, and part of you was tempted to take him up on his offer. But the other part of you was hesitant, unsure if you were ready to cross that line with him.

You had to admit, the idea was tempting. George was an attractive man, and you had always felt a certain level of chemistry between the two of you. But did you want to risk your friendship for a moment of physical release?

“I…”

Upon noticing your hesitation, George decided for you. “Come here.” he patted his thigh.

Bolts of electricity ran through your body  at his words. There was no denying that the idea of him taking care of you in that way was incredibly arousing. And before you made up your mind, your legs carried you over to him.

He took your arm, leading you in front of him. “Turn aroud. Sit down.” he instructed softly.

“On y-”

“Yes, y/n, on my lap.”

If he wanted to, he could pull you by the arms and just place you there, but he waited for you to slowly sit down yourself, resting your hands on his knees, your back to him.

“Good girl. Now,” he leaned forward, hugging your waist. “If in any moment you feel uncomfortable or just want to stop for whatever reason, I want you to tell me. Alright?”

“Okay.” you nodded, his intense stare more than you could handle.

You were familiar with being this close to George; you'd even slept in the same bed side-by-side without any issue. You had held each other before, but his touch was always comforting and platonic. This time however, something more hung in the air - an energy that made your heart race with anticipation.

“Good.” he kissed your tense shoulder.

George's hands caressed your body with practiced ease, gently running down your sides, across your abdomen, up and down your jean clothed thighs in order to help you relax. Gradually, you leaned into him, your breaths deeper. His lips smoothed over your neck and you let out an unwilling moan.

“You’re doing good.” he reassured and you nodded, affirming that you heard him.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, diving under to caress your stomach. They were warm, but your back arched on a sudden skin on skin contact. He stopped for a moment until you relaxed again. Moving upwards, his fingers grazed the lace of your bra before he glided his palms to cup them.

You gasped and bit your lip, surprised by the new sensation of his hands so close to your growing chest, and leaned back on him even more, your nipples hardening. You loved the way George touched you, the way he made you feel. His hands ran up and down between you and your bra, squeezing your globes. His lips found your ear, nibbling on its lobe before he spoke.

“You have a beautiful body.” he whispered huskily.

A shudder ran up your spine at the pure lust in his voice. His right hand slipped under the cup of your bra, freeing your breast. You didn’t protest, you felt good. Instead, you arched your back more, pressing your chest more against his hand. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple and pinched and pulled on it, making you moan.

George lowered his head and licked your neck, kissing it softly and nipping it occasionally. His left hand joined in the fun and massaged your other breast, pinching its nipple just as his right hand was doing. You clamped your eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of his touch.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

You leaned back once again, despite your best efforts. Now his right hand made its descend down your stomach, making you wriggle in his lap, and reached the button of your jeans. Popping it open, that’s when you opened your eyes as well.

“George,” you gulped and put your hand over his. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” he pulled you closer, pressing his lips reassuringly to your neck. “Are you not?”

“I’m just worried what it means to us, our friendship. I don’t want to ruin it.” you finally voiced your concerns.

“You won’t ruin it, babygirl.” he smoothed over your hair. “Friends help each other out, don’t they? You can look at it like that.”

“Yes, but…” We shouldn’t be doing this… you thought to yourself.

“We can stop if you-”

“No!” you were maybe a bit too quick to cut him off. “Let’s continue. I… I like it.” you could feel the heat rush into your cheeks.

He kissed your neck, working his way up to your ear. “I’m glad. Cause so do I.” his hand went back to what it was doing.

He pulled down your zipper, but didn’t push your pants down, exposing just your panties. His hand went back to your breasts, kneading them, feeling their weight. Every now and again his hand would brush past your nipple, sending tingles down your body.

You’re breathing was growing heavier, his hands were good at what they were doing and you didn’t want it to stop. He could feel you squirming in his lap, his smirk evident even though your head was turned.

“Someone’s excited.” he teased.

“S-Shut up.” you bit your lip, embarrassed.

His fingers dipped under the elastic line of your panties, and you were glad that you decided to shave that morning. His fingers ran over your mound slowly, feeling every curve, every spot. He circled around your clit, teasing you, before he moved further down, dipping one finger in a bit before pulling it back out.

You moaned and he chuckled. “You like that?” you nodded, trying to contain your moans. “You want me to continue?” you nodded again, too aroused to speak.

His fingers dipped deeper inside your folds, feeling the warm, wet sensation. When his fingers reached the bottom, he started to rub your entrance, pressing just a bit, sending pleasurable sparks through your body.

“Mhm,” he moaned into your ear, “my babygirl likes that.”

“Yes.” you shook your head, agreeing.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Yes, I like it. I want it.”

His finger pushed a bit further inside, and you bit your lower lip, unable to keep quiet. “You want what?” he asked in a low voice.

“I want it.” you said in a higher pitched voice, trying to sound like a grown woman. “I want your fingers inside of me.” you blushed.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please.” you ground onto his finger, your hips following his thumb’s rhythm.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and you audibly expressed your dismay at the lack of contact. He responded by placing his hands on your hips and forcing you up off the chair. Tugging your jeans down, you stepped out of them and he was quick to pull you onto his lap once again. With a nudge from his knee, your thighs opened into a desirable position. His arm was securely locked around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't move away or slip off his lap.

“Now,” he played with your panties, pushing them aside. “You said you wanted more?”

“Yes, George. Please, George.” you whined.

“Only cause you said please.” he smirked and you could feel his teeth graze your skin.

His finger entered you again, slowly, stretching you, moving only an inch or so before pulling out again. When he felt that you were ready for more, he rhythmically started to finger you, gauging your reaction. His finger pushed a bit further in, making you squirm. He pulled it back out, a bit of your juices clinging to it before he thrust it back in. You gasped, feeling the full sensation of his finger inside of you. He added another finger, and you moaned, squirming on his lap, feeling so full. Your breathing had turned into moaning, echoing through the empty apartment in which you were in.

"Shh, babygirl, it's alright. You're doing good.” George’s free hand tangled in your hair, pulling it back, your exposed neck bared to him. He nibbled on it, biting and sucking, loving your reactions.

“Just, please, more.” you begged him.

“I don't think you're ready for that yet.”

His fingers became more insistent inside you, pushing deeper and deeper. He rubbed your g-spot, making your moans turn into pants.

“No, no, no, no.” you panted. “Please, just a bit more.”

“Would my babygirl like to come already?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close.” you said, almost crying, needing to come.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“George, please. I want it. I need it. Please.” you begged.

“God, I didn’t think hearing you beg would be such a turn on.” he confessed, his voice a deep rumble.

“Please, I need it. I need to come. I love it when you touch me like that. Please!” you were almost screaming by the end.

He went back on rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and faster. Slipping his thumb a few times inside you while his fingers were busy doing you, the other hand clamped on your hip for support. His thumb pushed in deeper, your juices coated it and he rubbed your g-spot with it, making you squeal.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” you said over and over again, panting.

“Come for me.” he hissed and his other hand wrapped around your throat, holding you gently.

You didn’t even need his encouragement, your whole body was aching for release. His fingers moved faster, rubbing your g-spot, his thumb pressing hard against it. You were soaked, his fingers gliding inside you. You moaned, louder than before, mumbling incoherently.

Your hips bucked on his lap and he held you in place, his fingers continuing their assault on your body. You were his toy, his play thing, and you enjoyed it more than you should have. You didn’t care anymore, you were drowning in pleasure, letting it consume you.

Lights burst behind your eyelids when you came, biting hard into your lip, muffling your screams. Your whole body relaxed from the pleasure, your arms giving out and you would have fallen if he had not held you. You leaned against him, recovering from your orgasm. Your head was laid on his chest and all you could hear was his breathing, slowing down.

When the orgasmic waves subsided, you became aware of your surroundings again and blushed.

“Th-thank you.” you stammered, chest still rising and falling visibly.

“You’re welcome.” he kissed your temple. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes.” you nodded.

“Glad I could help.” he said, his fingers playing with your hair, combing them through.

“You did, but George… This can’t happen again.” you finished, standing up to find your jeans. It was just an excuse to put some physical distance between you for you don’t think you could get the last part over your lips if you were still sitting on his lap.

“Oh,” was all he said. You couldn’t determine was he disappointed or the realization hit him.

“We are friends and I want it to stay that way. You are too important for me to lose over... such thing.” you zipped up your pants.

“I understand.” he said, his voice not betraying his true feelings.

You had expected it to be hard to say it, but it didn’t feel like a lie at all, it felt like the truth. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Thank you.”

He meekly nodded. “Do you want to stay over? We can watch tv or something…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” he smiled and you smiled back.

You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in blankets on his couch, laughing as you watched bad television shows and poking fun at the characters and plots. Between you two was no uneasiness; you were laughing together like earlier events hadn't happened. And that moment looked like a promise that, no matter what, nothing will ever change between you two.

Or so you thought...

Next part

[chukys-mouthguard]

aperol spritz

5.3k words | not proofread

featuring: william nylander x female reader

warnings: sexually explicit content, minors DNI, 18+; choking, spanking, hair pulling, daddy kink, marking, overstimulation, slight degradation, squirting, p in v, oral (female and male receiving) - aka LOTS of smut!

summary: after a shitty breakup your friends take you on a girls trip where they’re desperately trying to help you find a vacay fling, and william just might be the man for the job

note: i have no clue how this ended up where it did, but i hope you enjoy 🙈

You swirled your finger around the rim of your glass, listening intently to your friend as she told you about the interaction she’d just had with some guy at the bar. The music blasting throughout the small club as you’d downed about seven drinks at this point. A good buzz going through your body as you watched the crowd, the dance floor a bit too packed for your liking. Preferring to people watch as you sipped your drinks.

It was night four of your girls trip to Ibiza, and you’d yet to find a nice vacation fling like you’d hoped. Your friends were trying to get your mind off a harsh breakup with the spontaneous trip, and one of their goals to put it plainly was for you to get laid. While you weren’t desperate, something about the idea of meeting a stranger and having one or two amazing nights with them, then never having to cross paths or worry about seeing them again was intriguing.

Your friends noticed you eyeing the crowd, giggling to themselves at how you were trying not to be obvious about wanting to find yourself some eye candy.

“Y/n, at this point if he’s got all his teeth and buys you a drink, I say go for it.”

Shaking your head you rolled your eyes, tossing back the rest of your drink. Not having noticed the blue eyes that had been stuck on you for the last twenty minutes.

A blonde haired man sitting at the end of the bar sipping his drink as he watched you and your friends. Seeing the way you eyed the crowd, as if looking for someone. But only ending up discouraged as you hadn’t found what you were looking for.

“Sorry to say girls, I have a bit more I require if anyone is getting their hands on me.”

They both sighed, hating how picky you were despite the need to be touched by a man.

“Y/n, come on, you just need one night to let your freak run wild and not be worried about ever seeing the guy again. While I understand wanting the guy to be attractive, if he’s got the equipment, I think you need to lower the expectations.”

Sliding from the booth with a laugh, you excused yourself to the bar for another drink.

The blonde haired man saw you get up and knew this was his chance to make a move, hoping that you’d give him the time of day as he could sense you’d be tough to crack. He watched as you looked for an open space at the bar, the only one next to him as he locked eyes with you, inviting you to take the spot.

You offered him a smile as you tucked some hair behind your ear, tapping your nails against the bar as you waited for a bartender to come your way.

“Aperol Spritz?”

You looked to the blonde at your right, a confused look on your face as you watched him sip his drink.

“I’m sorry?”

“I saw you from across the way, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t drinking what every other girl in here was. So, I’m taking a guess, Aperol Spritz?”

You playfully bit your lip, not sure if that was a bad thing that he’d been able to know your drink order, but part of you didn’t mind either way. A hot guy at the bar, if not the hottest you’d seen all night, appeared interested in you and you would let him guess anything he wanted about you.

“Well, you would be correct. It’s been my go-to the entire time I’ve been out here. And if I had to guess for you.”

Eyeing his glass you smirked as his eyes were focused on you, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you study his drink.

“Hmm, I’m gonna guess you’re a vodka soda guy?”

He shook his head no as he pulled the glass to his lips, taking a sip before he answered.

“It’s a spin on a traditional mule, some people don’t like it. It’s a little spicy with some lime.”

The drink sounded interesting, and you were inclined to try and see what his taste was like. Still waiting for the bartender as the blonde extended a hand to you.

“I’m William.”

“Y/n, nice to meet you.”

After shaking your hand he held it up to signal the bartender, who immediately came to him to take his order.

“Another one for me, and for the lady?”

William pointed to you, catching you off guard as you were still confused how he’d had the bartender practically at his beck and call while you’d been waiting for minutes.

“Um, I’ll do the same thing!”

You smiled as you’d reached for the stool that sat tucked under the bar, figuring your friends wouldn’t mind you ditching them to have a drink with your new found friend.

“What do you think?”

William patiently watched as you sipped the drink, hoping you’d enjoy it. The taste was just as he described, a bit spicy with the perfect amount of lime.

“Wow, that’s good! I think I like it more than a traditional mule.”

He was pleased that you enjoyed the recommendation, clinking glasses with you as he took a sip himself before asking about your reason for being in Ibiza.

You’d explained it was a girls trip, leaving out the details of your breakup, knowing those details would almost definitely deter any guy from being interested in you.

“It’s been a super fun trip, this is our last night out though so I’m a bit sad about that.”

“Your last night? And I just got the chance to meet you and share a drink? Damn, well, I guess I need to make the most of the time I have with you then.”

He smirked as his chin rested on his hand, looking you up and down as he finger traced over his bottom lip. Something instantly telling you there was more to what he was saying, reading inbetween the lines to hope that he was as interested in you as you were in him.

You took note of his toned arms that were simply covered by a white short sleeve shirt, a gold chain peeking out from under his collar, his pants hugging his thighs pretty tight. Making you wonder how muscular his legs would appear underneath the fabric.

The two of you had downed a few more drinks, your buzz increasing as you felt yourself growing more and more desperate to be closer to William. The way he ran his hand through his hair, his smile as he spoke and the occasional laugh he’d let out. You’d hoped he couldn’t see it written on your face how much you wanted him, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could control the thoughts running through your mind.

“Do you dance?”

His hand rested on your thigh, reaching for your fingers as your hands then intertwined. A smile on his lips as his thumb traced circles over your skin.

“Mmm, I do dance. I can’t say I’m good, especially after so many drinks.”

William laughed at your drunken words, standing up as he tucked some hair behind your ear.

“Well what if I keep a hand on you, to hold you steady?”

You looked up at him with lust filled eyes, playfully biting your lip as you rose to your feet to join him.

“I think you’re gonna have to hold me pretty close.”

“Then I won’t take my hands off you.”

William winked before he took your hand and led you to the dance floor, finding a spot for the two of you as he spun you around before bringing your bodies close together.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with his hair as two moved along to the music. His hands resting at your waist as he felt his heart racing with you so close to him. Trying to control his desire to let his hands roam your body and see how far you’d let him go before you turned him down.

But little did he know you were more than willing to explore his desires. Wanting to feel his hands all over you, to have his lips on yours.

“For someone who said they’ve had quite a few drinks, you’re moving pretty well on your feet.”

William smirked down at you as you rolled your eyes, turning away from him as you brought his arms around your waist, backing up so your ass was pressed against him.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t want to hold onto me.”

He laughed in your ear as the two of you were now grinding rather than simply swaying to the beat. The tension building as you’d tried to not seem desperate to be closer to him, but needing him to know you were open to take this as far as he also wanted.

“Oh trust me, I want to do more than just hold you. Like I said, I’m trying to make the last night of your trip the best night.”

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, smiling as one of his hands kept a hold on your waist while the other moved your hair from your neck. Exposing the skin to him as you felt his lips brush over your skin, his nose tickling your ear causing you to slightly flinch.

“The best night of my trip huh? You think you’re gonna be able to do that?”

William chuckled in your ear, loving the cockiness in your voice, as if proposing a challenge to him. To which he gladly accepted, not willing to back down from you. Wanting to follow through on his promise of making this the best night of your trip.

“I don’t want to sound cocky, but I can guarantee you won't be able to walk tomorrow once I have my way with you.”

His words send a wave of need throughout your body, the mystery of not knowing what would be in store being enough to have you ready to leave with him immediately. Knowing he had you wet on this dance floor solely from his words, the idea of what he’d do to you once he had you in private made you weak in the knees. Glad he’d had a steady hold on your waist, pressing your ass firmly against his crotch which you’d tried not to pay attention to as you felt him growing hard behind you.

“Is that a threat? Or a promise?”

He placed a kiss to your neck, softly biting at the skin before licking over the spot to soothe it. Earning a soft moan from you as you felt chills shoot up your spine at his lips against your skin.

“Why don’t we get out of here and you can find out?”

The invitation was all you needed, taking his hand in yours as you pulled him from the floor. Stopping back at the booth where your friends had been loving the fact you’d finally found someone to hopefully get you laid. Admiring the gorgeous man at your side as you asked them for your bag.

“Don’t wait up girls!”

You blew them a kiss as you quickly exited the club, hand in hand with William as you had no clue where you were headed. You and your friends had been sharing a room, so you hoped William had a room to himself that you two could occupy.

He noticed you looking left at right, appearing at your side as he snaked a hand around your waist. Pulling you into his chest as he began peppering your face with kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a cab.”

You grabbed his face as you pulled his lips to yours, kissing him for the first time as you couldn’t handle the anticipation anymore. Tongues fighting for dominance as one of his hands gripped your ass while the other held you close to him. You bit his lip as you pulled away, blushing with a smile on your face as he tried to catch his breath. Your hand reached for his as a cab pulled up, William opening the door for you to climb in.

“How long is the drive?”

He smirked down at you, sensing how badly you needed him to touch you again. His hand resting on your thigh, slowly making its way higher to dip beneath your skirt.

“Someone is impatient huh?”

You felt goose bumps covering your skin as his fingers slipped under your skirt, brushing over the fabric of your thong to feel how much you’d already soaked them. A smirk on his lips, loving the idea of how wet you’d been all night just for him.

“Fuck, you’ve been this wet for me all night? I love that.”

His lips crashed back down onto yours while his fingers pulled the fabric of your thong to the side, as he traced along your slit. A soft moan escaping your lips only to be swallowed by William. Your thighs instinctually spread to give him more access, William taking that as his sign to go further. His thumb slowly circled your clit as he slipped his fingers past your folds. A sharp gasp escaping your mouth as your hand instinctively pulled him deeper into the kiss, trying your best to muffle any sounds that were threatening to come from you.

William’s growing erection pressed against the zipper of his pants as he felt you soaking his fingers, loving the feeling of your juices coating his hand. Catching you off guard he suddenly pulled them from you, bringing them to your mouth as he broke the kiss. You gladly accepted his fingers into your mouth, sucking your juices from them as he bit his lip.

“Mmm good girl.”

The cab came to a halt and William handed the driver some cash before he pulled you from the backseat. You were pulling your skirt down as you climbed from the cab, hoping no one was able to tell what the two of you had just done, though also not caring as you were craving more from him.

His hand held yours tight as he pulled through the crowded street up to his hotel, secretly hoping the two of you would get lucky with an empty elevator ride to his floor. William desperately needing to have his way with you, pressing the button to close the doors just as quickly as they’d opened for you.

“Floor twenty.”

He instructed you on which button to press before you felt his hand pull you towards him. Pinning you against the wall you could feel how hard he was, a smirk coming across your lips knowing you’d gotten him so worked up. One of his hands sneaking back under your skirt as the other found its way to your throat, lightly tightening his grip as he stole a kiss from you. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or nervousness, but all he saw was lust and desire.

“You trust me baby girl?”

All you could manage was a slight nod of your head as the ding of the elevator snapped William out of his thoughts. He took your hand as he hurried the two of you down the hall, fumbling with the key as he couldn’t wait any longer to have you all to himself.

Tossing the key on the dresser he pulled you further into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed as you joined him. Straddling his waist as he lifted your skirt up to your hips, your hands tangling into his blonde locks as your tongues fought for dominance.

He let out a low groan at the feeling of you grinding your hips down onto him, signaling his approval with a smack on your ass. The sound echoing throughout the room as you winced at the slight sting, Williams hand resting on the sore spot as if to soothe it.

“You’re so fucking sexy, I hope you’re ready for everything I wanna do to you.”

His voice was low and laced with desire, he needed you in every way possible. Your mind racing at the things this man had in store for you, and knowing you’d do just about anything he asked left you practically begging him to continue.

Normally you weren’t one to explore different kinks or fantasies in the bedroom, your last boyfriend being more on the vanilla side of things. Which was fine, it got the job done. But something about William, his clear want to have his way with you and explore the limits a stranger would let him go, it brought out a side of you that you were ready to explore.

“Oh yeah? Well let’s see it then, I want everything you’ve got.”

He bit his lip at your words, his cock twitching in the confines of his pants hearing you say you wanted everything. And with that stamp of approval, he was ready to give you just that.

“Take these clothes off and get on your knees. Let’s see how bad you want it.”

Quickly you’d stepped out of your skirt, making sure to give him a good view of your ass that was now sporting a bright red handprint from him. William pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the side before resting back on his hands as he watched you strip for him.

His tongue darted out over his bottom lip as he smirked the mark he’d left on your ass, his hand falling to palm him bulge that was painfully pressing against the seam of his pants and needing to be freed.

Pulling your top over your shoulders, you tossed it to the side as you rested your hands on his thighs, finding your place on the floor in front of him. On your knees as he instructed while he looked down at you with eyes full of need.

Standing up from the bed he’d undone his belt with a quick flick of his wrist, then following suit with the button and zipper. Guiding his pants down his legs as you admired his build, your hands running up his thighs as you desperately needed to see what he was hiding underneath his briefs. Though the bulge in them was clearly telling you that he’d be plenty big enough for you and there would be nothing to complain about.

His thumb traced over your bottom lip as a slight chuckle escaped him, seeing how you eyed his bulge knowing you were surely soaked at the sight of his size.

“You’re cute when you’re needy, and I’m gonna make you beg for every inch of me.”

His words had you dripping, the anticipation for what was to come almost being too much as all you wanted was to get his briefs off of him and his length inside of you. But William wasn’t going to make this so simple. He’d finally discarded his briefs, his cock springing free as it lapped against his stomach. You felt your pussy throb at the sight of it, not only the length but its girth. Trying to anticipate the feeling of lowering yourself onto him and how he’d stretch you out. But you knew nothing could prepare you for that.

He slowly stroked himself as he took your chin in his other hand, guiding your mouth to line up with his length as you willingly offered. A low groan escaping his lips as the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, his hands immediately gripping at your hair as he couldn’t help himself. His hips slowly moved to match the rhythm as you bobbed your head up and down, slightly gagging each time his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck yes, I wanna hear you choke. Just like that.”

Picking up your pace his hips moved to match, his grip tightening in your hair but the pain only felt like pleasure as he held you in place as his cock filled your throat. His breath sharp as he slightly twitched, feeling you deepthroat him, your eyes slightly tearing up as your nails dug into his thighs.

He pulled your mouth from his cock with a groan, already missing the feeling of your lips around him as he picked you up. His hands gripping your ass while his lips crashed back onto yours. Arms wrapped around his neck as your nails scraped along his back, making him hiss at the feeling but he loved it. Wanting you to show him how good he made you feel through the evidence you’d leave on his skin.

He laid you down on the bed, eyes roaming your body as he licked his lips with anticipation, stopping to see the wet spot that had formed through the fabric of your thong. His cock twitching at the sight, desperate to be buried deep inside of you.

“Do you always get this wet?”

His smirking face between your thighs almost made you nervous, instinctually pressing your thighs together to hide yourself from him as if it were a bad thing. But William quickly pulled them apart, reassuring you it was nothing to hide from. His fingers hooking under the tiny straps that sat on your hips, pulling the fabric from your body as he was met with your glistening folds.

“Dirty little thing soaking your panties like that for me.”

His lips pressing kissed along your thighs, teasing you as his mouth was covering every inch of you except where you needed him most. Your hips instinctually adjusted as if to give him the hint, though he could tell from your eyes just how desperate you were for him to taste you.

“Talk to me baby girl. Daddy is gonna make sure you get exactly what you want.”

The way the pet name for you rolled off his lips surely had the sheets soaked beneath you. His slight accent mixed with the cockiness in his voice sent shockwaves down your spine as you could hardly wait any longer, his teasing becoming unbearable.

“I want you to taste me, please.”

Your hand gripped at his hair as you tried to guide him towards your heat, your voice slightly whiny as you pleaded with him. But he loved it, inching closer towards you as you could feel his breath on your folds, goosebumps covering your skin as you’d swallowed in anticipation.

“Mmm, please what?”

“Please daddy.”

Your response was almost instant, making William chuckle at how you’d become putty in his hands. But he loved every bit of it, knowing he’d repay you with the pleasure you’d be feeling at the hands of his mouth in seconds.

Hearing daddy roll off your tongue was all it took as you gasped, his mouth immediately pressing to your clit as he wasted no time. His tongue worked wonders as your back arched, hands grabbing at his hair so tight you were sure he’d lose strands.

“Fuck, oh my-shit!”

He chuckled at your reaction, it only encouraged him to continue as he’d slipped two fingers between your folds. His cock twitching at how wet you’d gotten for him, his fingers matching the pace of his tongue as you felt your breath catching in your chest. Breathing heavy as you could feel your fingers tightening around him, eyes fluttering shut as you tossed your head back. Not able to form words as the only escaping your lips were whines and moans as he brought you to your peak, but not backing down.

He could feel you were already close, your hands dropping from his hair to grip the sheets as your thighs pressed tight to either side of his head. Your body shaking as you tried to push him away, the feeling was overbearing as his tongue continued its attack on your clit. Pulling his fingers from your folds, he’d wrapped both arms around your thighs, holding you still as his mouth took over.

The way he licked and sucked at your clit you were seeing black, and William couldn’t take his eyes off you. Seeing how overstimulated you were as you body shook beneath him, looking down at him through half hooded eyes as you bit your lip.

He’d let his thumb take the place of his mouth as he came up for air, kissing your thighs softly as he smirked up at you.

“You wanna cum baby? I can see it in your eyes.”

Nodding your head was all you could manage as your mind was blank, William moving his hand so his fingers could dip back inside you.

“Mmm, fuck. Such a pretty little slut getting soaked for me. How about you cum for daddy and then ride this cock?”

“Y-yes, I need your cock inside me. Wanna feel you stretch me out daddy.”

He loved hearing you dirty talk back to him, the fact that you made sure to tell him what you needed despite the work of his fingers making it hard for you to breathe let alone speak.

“As you wish baby girl.”

William chuckled before his fingers picked up their pace, thrusting in and out of you as his tongue found its way back to your clit. The sensation already close again as he barely gave you time to recover from the previous high.

Your back arched as your moans turned into soft screams, William pushing you over the edge as he made you ride out your orgasm. Soaking his fingers and mouth as he’d managed to make you squirt, catching you off guard as you looked at him shocked.

“Fuck, I-I’ve never done that before.”

Taking his fingers in his mouth to taste you as he cleaned them off he flashed a smile, climbing up the bed and lowering himself on top of you. His lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss as you felt his cock slightly brush against your folds, making you twitch at the sensation.

“It was so fucking sexy baby.”

His lips trailed down to your neck as he slid his tongue along your jawline before biting at your collarbone. Your head falling back only makes him reach up and wrap his hand around your exposed skin, slightly tightening his grip as he whispers in your ear.

“Now how about you get in my lap and we make you do it again?”

William swapped your places, pulling you into his lap as you straddled him, his hand reaching behind you to unhook your bra in one swift movement. Pulling the black laced undergarment from your arms as he threw it across the room. Immediately giving attention to your breasts as he’d been eyeing them all night, never imagining them to be as perfect as they were to him.

While he gave your chest some attention, you took your turn at leaving marks of your own down his neck, hands roaming his muscular chest and arms. Soft moans escaping his lips every time he felt your teeth nip at his skin, always followed by your tongue to soothe the red spots you’d left behind.

Slipping a hand behind you, you took his cock and slowly teased your folds. Desperately trying to make him wait but you couldn’t hold out any longer yourself, sliding down his length as your hands rested on his chest to brace yourself. Expletives pouring from both of you, feeling him stretch you out as his head fell back against the pillow. Hands sliding down your sides to grip at your hips, holding you steady as he needed a minute to compose himself with how tight you felt wrapped around him.

“Shit…”

“Yeah.”

He echoed your reaction as he attempted to guide your hips, urging you to ride him, which you happily obliged. William’s hands moving to grip your ass as you grinded against him, his hips occasionally bucking at specific movements you’d done.

“Bounce on it baby, show me how much you like it.”

“Mmm, I don’t like it, I love it.”

Following his request you leaned forward as your arms rested on either side of his head, bouncing your ass up and down on his cock as he groaned in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that. Such a good girl, fucking ride me baby.”

A smack of your ass from him urging you to continue, your pace picking up as you could feel yourself already getting close to another orgasm.

“Shit, I’m already close. You feel too good, holy shit.”

William smirked at you before he quickly flipped you over onto the bed, keeping his cock buried inside you as you gasped. Caught off guard by the sudden switch of positions, but loving the feeling as he put one of your legs over his shoulder to have a better angle.

“Think we can make you recreate earlier? Gonna really push you to your limits baby. Can you take it?”

Biting your lip you nodded, fingers gripping the sheets tight as his hand fell to your clit, thumb rubbing vicious circles as your eyes rolled back. His free hand doing his best to hold you in place as you were already shaking.

“Come on baby, let’s see it, be a dirty little slut for daddy. I want you to soak me.”

His words were like drugs to your senses, the only thing you needed to reach your peak. That besides his cock and thumb that was working its magic making you tongue tied as you could barely form a response.

“William, I can’t take anymore, it’s too much.”

He could feel you tightening around him once again, knowing you’d gotten you so close. His thrusts now sloppy as his pace picked up, both with his cock and his thumb.

“Fuck, come on baby, I’m gonna cum for you. You’re so close, I can feel it.”

His voice almost a low growl as you watched his brow furrow, his own climax approaching. Reaching down you pushed his hand away, taking over the assault on your clit and giving him the ability to grip your hips and thrust into you. Hard and fast as his fingers surely broke skin, leaving bruised fingerprints in their wake as your hips bucked against him. Your hand barely able to keep its pace, the warmth building up as your back arched.

“Fuckkk!”

William pulled himself from you as he came, his seed covering your stomach as your own release coated his chest. A cocky grin on his face as he looked down at the mess the two of you had made. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. Vision blurry as you all you could muster was a, “holy fucking shit”.

William climbed off the bed, disappearing to the bathroom before returning with a towel to clean you off. Your body slightly twitching at the feeling of him touching you, you’d definitely be sensitive for an hour or so with how good he’d pleased you.

After discarding the towel he picked you up, ripping the soaked sheets from the bed before setting you back down on the drier surface of the mattress. At this point you didn’t care where he set you down, just needing to lay still and try to recover.

“You okay baby girl?”

He grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, laying next to you before he draped it over the two of you. His thumb brushing over the skin of your shoulder while his lips pressed soft sporadic kisses.

“Yeah, I um, wow. Fuck.”

William chuckled as he wrapped an arm around you, closing his eyes as your breathing finally slowed to match his.

“Told you I’d make this the best night of your trip.”

Playfully rolling your eyes you ran your fingernails along the skin of his forearm, relaxing in his embrace as you tried to imagine how you’d explain this to your friends.

“What about tomorrow, you think you could make that the best morning of my trip?”

[generalllimaginesss]

"If you weren't my sibling you'd be my best friend." "I can most definitely be both?" "Nah."

hughes sister saying that to jack and being like he can’t be my brother and best friend because that’s already luke

I was waiting for this one!! I hope you like it!!

••

Jack wasn't the only middle child in the Hughes family, but he most definitely suffered from Middle Child Syndrome the most. Quinn was busy hanging out with his friends, and his younger two siblings always seemed to leave him out, whether that be on purpose or not was up for debate. Sometimes he just felt forgotten.

The truth is that Luke was like your child growing up. When he was a baby, he was basically a living babydoll. You dressed him up, helped feed him, bathe him, the whole ordeal. When he was old enough to walk, the trouble that the two of you got into was endless. He made sure that when he started to get serious about hockey that you didn't feel left out, always prioritizing your once a week gossip session that took place in your room as you did your skincare routine on you and him while catching him up with what's going on in your life.

The whole Hughes family knew the routine, no interrupting the gossip session, but Jack couldn't help but eaves drop on what you were telling Luke.

"...so I'm standing there, actually watching this dude lie straight through his teeth, telling me that he didn't try to hook up with my friend. Did he think she wouldn't send me the screenshots? I mean seriously..." Jack could hear through the rather thin walls from the place where he was standing in the hallway.

He was about to head to his room, but just as he was passing your bedroom door it opened, like a scene straight out of a movie, hitting him smack dab in the middle of his face.

"Dude this is sad. Are you this desperate to try to be in our circle?" Luke patted his brother on the shoulder as you got closer to the scene.

You and Luke communicated in almost a telepathic way, passing a glance that said it would be ok if Jack joined just this once.

"Come on you idiot," You took his arm and pull him into your room.

He looked between you and Luke, noticing some sort of mask covering both of your faces.

"What the fuck is on your face," Jack laughed as he started to pay attention to his younger brother.

"Don't knock it until you try it," He replied, sipping on a glass of water.

"So what brings you here today," You piped up, curious as to why your older brother was all of a sudden interested in your gossip day with Luke.

"I heard you talking about a boy," Admittedly, he knew it was kind of weird to be listening in on his little sister's love life, but he liked to think that they could be close enough to fill each other in on important information.

He noticed that you were preparing something, and then saw that you were coming towards him with whatever was already on Luke's face.

"No way in hell is that going on my face," He tried to defend himself, but Luke holding his arms behind his back revealed that there was no point in trying.

"If you want to be in on the gossip, you can't skip skincare," You said, applying the mask evenly over Jack's face.

"So you heard what I was saying?" You asked, biting your tongue and concentrating on not making a mess on your floor.

"Mhm," Jack hummed.

"Any advice?" You were actually curious about what he had to say considering he could be the type of dude to do some stupid shit like you had experienced.

"Don't give him the time of day. Know your worth. I mean you got some pretty badass brothers, so you shouldn't expect anything less from a guy," He advised, his eyes closed trying to avoid getting anything in them.

"I think that's why I keep getting disappointed. I mean, not counting Jack, you and Quinn set the bar high for expectations from a guy," Your comment is directed at Luke, but you give Jack a cheeky glance.

"Hey! I'm sitting right here..." He feigned hurt, his hand covering his heart to add to the dramatics.

"No, but seriously. Mom and Dad didn't raise you to settle. Don't compromise your standards for a guy that isn't worth it." Jack's advice was filled with love, something that he wasn't very serious about most of the time, especially with his siblings. They all loved each other, but they rarely expressed it through words.

"Thanks, Jack. You know, if you weren't my sibling you'd be my best friend," You passed him one of your headbands so that he would stop fidgeting and pushing his hair back with his fingers.

"I can most definitely be both?" He furrowed his eyebrows, confused on how he can only qualify for the sibling portion of your comment.

"Nah," Luke piped in, scrolling through his social media on his phone.

"And why's that," Jack questioned, watching as his two younger siblings began to look at each other.

"Listen, Jack. Bud. I love you, but as you can see my best friend slot is kind of filled by Luke. We do love you, though!" You called after him as he began to leave your room.

"Where are you going?" Luke called to Jack right behind you.

"To look for someone to fill my best friend slot since you two obviously have no availability!"

As if on cue, Quinn walked through the living room door, almost hitting Jack again.

"Watch where you're go-" He began, but as soon as he saw what was on his brother's face he folded over laughing.

"What is on your face?" Quinn asked between breaths, trying to hold his composure.

Jack flipped him off, but turned to the two younger siblings that were hanging out of your bedroom doorway.

"I'm sure Quinn would love to be my best friend," Jack narrowed his eyes at you, causing you to giggle.

"Not with whatever is on your face," Quinn chuckled and ruffled Jack's hair.

"I hate you all," Jack rolled his eyes as he made his way to his room.

Although he said it, he'd never mean it. Even if Luke was your so-called best friend, at the end of the day you all knew that it was the four of you against the world. You all would do anything for each other with no questions asked. The four of you may be dispersed across the country at any given point, but eventually you all would find your way home to each other.

“I’ll be your best friend, Jacky Boy,” Quinn knocked on Jack’s door, a suppressed laugh threatening to spill.

“Fuck off,” Jack threw back.

*

*

*

*

[thethronezone]

Will you walk into my parlour?

Kinda continuation of this thing except longer and, uh, smuttier. A bit of a long intro but ya know, I like my porn with some plot. Contains prostitution, degrading language, dubcon(?), BDSM, bondage, oral sex (male receiving), edge play, orgasm denial and talk of anal sex. M/M/F threesome, drukhari x human.

Contrary to what those in his squad believe, Yzura is not stupid. Sure, he might have once mistaken one of those astartes for a really big mon-keigh baseline but it hadn't been his fault! They can be so weird looking, how is he supposed to tell them apart from an ogryn when they are not wearing that stupid armor?

Truthfully, Yzura thinks his squad are all bigger fools than himself. After all, they are all so confident that he won't be able to outsmart them that they lay all their secrets bare right in front of him, simply because they think he won't understand. Oh, they might not say it out loud but they don't need to because what Yzura lacks in general intelligence, he more than makes up for in his ability to read people. It's something he's always been good at, from the moment he stepped out of the birthing vat. That's why he immediately notices the way that something is up with Orizhon.

Oh, Orizhon. Where to even begin with that one? Not the squad leader but might as well be with how everyone listens to him, mostly because the others are too scared to go against him. Mister Stuck-Up, always so dignified and serious, like it would kill him to show an ounce of emotion. A stick in the mud, like the mon-keigh would say.

So when Orizhon starts acting like a blushing virgin, well, that's when Yzura knows that something very special and interesting is going on.

It all started with that visit to that mon-keigh brothel. Now, it hadn't been Yzura's idea but he had been all for it when it had been suggested. After all, mon-keigh are such fun! They make the funniest noises, the most delightful expressions and when he slides a knife right under their eye juuuust so that it scrapes the globe, they give of such a sweet smell of fear that it makes him feel all giddy and warm inside. And while yeah, he'd been forced to play nice for the night (no need alerting the mon-keigh, after all) he had still managed to have some fun with the plump blonde he had snagged. She had been delightfully soft and the dumb look she had gotten in her eyes when he fucked her brains out had been hilarious.

It had also been quite fun to see Orizhon left behind at the bar, moping like a sad, sad loser when everyone else went their own ways to have fun. Frankly, Yzura had expected to return and find him still in that same seat, with that same drink, once playtime was over.

Instead, Orizhon had been one of the last in the squad to return to the foyer where they were had all agreed to meet up afterwards. Apparently, he had managed to find someone after all. Who'd have thought? Truthfully, if he hadn't reeked of sex then Yzura would have assumed that he had simply gotten lost on his way out.

And if that had been it, if it had just been that one thing, then Yzura would not have cared beyond making a few snide comments. He almost did just that. But then he caught the look in Orizhon's eyes when the others teased him for finally letting loose and asked for details. Because what Orizhon had felt had not been annoyance. It hadn't even been indifference.

It was embarrassment. Like he had just done something that he shouldn't have, or rather, that he didn't want anyone else to find out about. Mister Perfect, with a big secret that he didn't want anyone to find out about.

How could Yzura ever hope to resist that temptation?

What followed was months of of careful planning, observation, investigation and most importantly; waiting. All for the sake of the grand confrontation, the moment he revealed to Orizhon that he knew his dirty little secret.

Orizhon had caught feelings. For a mon-keigh whore.

It's almost too unbelievable. Fuck, if he hadn't seen the signs himself then he would have laughed at the idea. High and mighty Orizhon who can't do anything wrong, in love with a primitive? A primitive that he pays to fuck? Had Yzura not possessed such self control then he would have immediately told everyone else. Oh, they would have loved it. Orizhon would never have been able to show his face around Commorragh again.

But that wasn't what Yzura wanted. No, that would have been too short sighted. Why long for drop of wine when he can have the whole bottle?

That's why, when he saunters into the Prickly Rose, mon-keigh disguise on, he turns down the whores that approach him. They know him, he's visited a few times since that first time and they know he pays well for their services. Usually, he would grab one, maybe two and go have some lighthearted fun but tonight he's a man on a mission. He smiles and explains that he can't play tonight, he's got a friend waiting for him and so on. They pout a little, a few bratty ones whine, but they don't bother him beyond that, parting with kisses and promises of next time. Such good little mon-keigh, well trained and sweet. He will make sure to grab at least one of them in case they decide to ever raid the place. They will prove a good plaything for a while.

It's laughably easy to find Orizhon. Even in his mon-keigh disguise, he's still towers over the primitives and his posture is one that screams superiority complex so much that it almost radiates off him. He's taken a seat in a plush couch in the corner of the lounge, where the light is dimmer and he can get some privacy. And right next to him, with one of his arms snaked around her waist, is the mon-keigh whore he's so infatuated with.

She does, admittedly, look nice. Cute, the way all primitives are. Like a puppy! And she's got a pretty good sense of fashion, all dark leather, belts and heels that look like they could be used to kill. There's an expensive necklace around her neck, one Yzura recognizes from a recent raid. Orizhon had snatched it right off some noble woman's throat (along with a handful of her flesh) and pocketed it for himself. Did he grab it with his whore in mind? The thought makes Yzura feel giddy in anticipation of what he's about to do.

Before Orizhon has the opportunity to discover him on his own, Yzura opens his arms wide and calls out to him as he struts over. "Ori! There you are!"

The way Orizhon's head whips up to face him almost makes Yzura fall over laughing. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, looking like he's just been caught trying to pickpocket Asdrubael Vect. Yzura sees him reach for a weapon that's not there and it only makes him skip over faster.

"What are you doing here?" Orizhon hisses and when Yzura plops down next to him on the couch, he almost pushes him off. Almost being the keyword because that's when his little pet speaks up.

"You two know each other?" she questions, obviously recognizing him from his previous visits, even if he's never slept with her. Yet.

Yzura casually swings an arm over Orizhon's shoulders and knocks their heads together in a playful manner. The way that Orizhon tenses up, clenches his finger so hard into the palms of his hands that he makes them bleed, is delicious.

"Oh yeah, Ori and I are real close! We have known each other since forever! Practically joined at the hip! We even share the same birthday!" Along with a hundred other halfborn drukhari but she didn't need to know that. He offers his hand to her and throws her a wink. "I'm Yzu by the way." When the mon-keigh reaches to shake his hand, he grabs it and brings it close so he can kiss the top of it, practically folding over the drukhari next to him to do so. "But you can call me whatever you like."

Orizhon is trembling now, with barely contained rage, but he won't do shit in such a public setting, especially not in front of his little pet who's looking at both of them with such wide eyes. "Why" he hisses through clenched teeth, "are you here?"

"What? Is it such a crime to want to spend some time with my bestest friend?" The way Orizhon growls at his words makes him smile even wider, all disguised, blunt teeth. "And when I saw you walk in here, why, I knew I just had to join in on the fun."

Oh, the smell of rage is so delicious that Yzura could almost sink his teeth into it. "That's it?" Orizhon spits out, voice laced with venom and disgust. "You want to fuck?"

"How crude! But yes." Yzura rests his head against Orizhon's shoulder and his next words are a whisper. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I run all the way back home and have a chat with our other friends? I am sure they would love to chat with me. The stories I could tell them."

For a moment, it almost looks as if he might have taken a step too far, that Orizhon is going to attempt to kill him, in public or not. Would he do it with his bare hands? Or would he improvise a weapon to stab him with? That bottle of wine on the table in front of them looks very breakable.

Alas, some questions are never meant to be answered as, before Orizhon can do something he will come to regret, the mon-keigh next to him suddenly speaks up.

"I would have no problem entertaining the two of you at the same time. A friend of Ori is a friend of mine after all."

With something approaching shock, Orizhon looks at her. "No, that's not-" She places a hand on his thigh and smiles sweetly at him, silencing him. Yzura looks on in wonder and amusement.

"Come on," the hand on his thigh slides higher and her voice lowers into a husky murmur, "let me take him."

There's a moment of silence, where neither of them say anything and just stare into each others eyes, before Orizhon looks away. "Fine."

The mon-keigh claps her hands with delight and jumps up to her feet. "Splendid!" She grabs Yzura's hand and pulls him off the couch. "My private room is right the way over here. Come, Ori, let's not keep your friend waiting."

Orizhon does not say anything in response, merely follows behind them as they make their way to the room. Yzura can feel the way he's glaring at his back though and the only reason he doesn't turn around and gloat is because he's pretty sure Orizhon would strangle him. Besides, it's never a too good idea to anger someone you're about to go to bed with. Well, at least not anger than more than you already have.

The room the mon-keigh leads them to is very much like the other rooms he's seen in the brothel. A relatively decent sized room with dark walls, dim lighting, a bouquet on the nightstand, a wardrobe, some scattered furniture and a big, luxurious bed covered in silk sheets and enough pillows to drown in. It's the air that really stands out to him though, that makes him stop and inhale sharply the moment he takes a step inside. It's practically permeated with residual lust and the scent of sex. This is a den of debauchery. It's enough to make him half-hard already.

He doesn't even notice that Orizhon locks the door behind them.

Letting go of his hand and rifling through a few drawers, the mon-keigh chatters away. "Oh, I hope you don't mind the mess," what mess, Yzura wonders, "had I known that I would meet someone new then I would have prepared in advance. Most of my toys are tucked away and I only have the basics prepared and-"

As she speaks, Yzura strips and as he's taking off the last item of clothing, the mon-keigh throws a glance over her shoulder and happens to meet his eyes. She pauses, eyes drinking in the sight of his naked body, before giving him a timid smile that makes him want to bully her until she cries. "You are very handsome."

A sucker for compliments, even if they are from primitives, Yzura preens. "Why, thank you." He discards the last of his clothes, placing it in a pile on a nearby chair, before stepping closer until he's practically looming over the little mon-keigh.

Finally having found what she was looking, the she holds up a pair of leather cuffs and makes a motion urging him to turn around. "If you wouldn't mind..?"

He chuckles, because her gentle attitude amuses him, and spins around with flourish. "Go ahead!" He offers her his wrists and he hums when he feels her put them on him, adjusting the restraints so that they sit tight but not too tight. How nice of her.

When he turns towards the bed, Orizhon is already on it, clothes off and kneeling by the plush pillows, looking like a soldier about to be disciplined by a general. It's a very visually appealing sight. It's not the first time Yzura has seen Orizhon naked. Fuck, it's not even the first time that they've had sex either. It used to be a fairly frequent thing, back when they were both fresh out the vat and everything was so new and exciting. Using each other to explore what felt good was only natural.

He is a handsome drukhari, always has been, and even disguised as a mon-keigh, his elegant features stand out. Long hair as dark as the material that makes up the spires of Commorragh, high cheekbones, and a sharp, arched nose that gives one the impression of nobility. Certainly pleasing to look at. It also helps that he's got a large cock and a tight ass as well.

Yzura allows the mon-keigh to lead him to the bed, one arm slung around his waist. And when she urges him to lay down, resting his head on Orizhon's lap, well, it's almost too good to be true.

He makes himself comfortable, nestling himself against the thighs of his squad-mate and sending him a cheeky grin when he frowns at his actions. What catches him off guard, however, is when the mon-keigh situates herself between his legs, spreading them so that they circle around her. Then there's the fact that she's still dressed.

Seeing the questioning look in his eyes, she smiles sheepishly at him as she hurries to explain. "Ah, I was thinking that maybe we'd start with something a bit more tame, like a handjob? Just so I can get a better understanding of what you like and what your limits are."

Oh. Oh, how sweet. The mon-keigh is concerned about him. Worried that she will work him too hard. Funny. It's so fucking funny. What kind of pathetic performance have Orizhon given her to make her think that he needs to be coddled like this?

Still, he supposes he will play along, for now. He wraps his long legs around her waist and shoots her a cocky smirk. "Go ahead. Do your worst." He almost jumps out of his skin when Orizhon, Orizhon of all people, chuckles. Like he's said something funny. Wide eyed, he stares up at the man like he's just grown a second head. There's the barest hint of a smile on Orizhon's face and when he places his hands on Yzura's shoulders, lightly pressing him down, there's a bad feeling in his stomach. He can't help but swallow the saliva that's rapidly gathering in his mouth, voice almost trembling with trepidation. "Hey-"

The hands that envelop his cock are soft and warm. Yzura forces back a gasp and focuses on the mon-keigh between his legs he had almost forgotten about. "So tense," she murmurs, "just relax and let me take care of you."

It's hard to say no when her touch feels so good, when deft fingers curl around his length and strokes him with such diligence, leaving no inch of skin untouched. From the base all the way up to the glans where she lingers and teases beads of precum out of the tip which she uses to slick her hands to make the movement easier.

"Oh, that's nice" Yzura groans and wraps his legs around her even tighter, bringing her closer. And as if she's been waiting for that approval, the mon-keigh slowly picks up speed, much to his delight. Her slow, sensual touch gradually grows faster until finally, she's fisting his cock with such single minded fervor that it could almost be called religious.

It's like her hand is a well oiled machine instead of an appendage made out of flesh and blood. The sound of flesh on flesh echoes in the room alongside the sound of his panting and when her other hand reaches down to grab his balls and squeeze, the groan that leaves him was downright whorish.

"Ffffffuuuck Ori, I can see why you keep coming back for more. She's- fuck- she's a delight." Orizhon does not respond, his face doesn't even twitch, and if it weren't for the hard erection pressing against the back of his head, Yzura might have mistaken his silence for a lack of interest.

Heh, never took Orizhon for a cuck.

The mon-keigh, however, appears more amused as she chuckles softly and slows down. "Such high praise." She leans closer, until their chests are but a hair apart and he's breathing in the same air as her. "I'm almost flattered." For a moment, he thinks she's going to kiss him. But then he sees the glint in her eye and he tenses. Because that's not the gaze of some toy just doing what it's told or a submissive little whore. And when her smile sharpens into something predatory, Yzura feels that something is very, very off.

But that's when her hands pick up speed again and Yzura throws his head back in ecstacy, all suspicions and bad feelings forgotten as pleasure sends tingles down his spine and clouds his mind.

He's so fucking close now. He's going to cum in her hand and then he's going to get these cuffs off, bend her over and fuck her until she's screaming, right in front of Orizhon. Maybe he'll make him eat her out afterwards, watch him scoop out his cum with his tongue and swallow. Fuck, that's a delicious thought, that's exactly what he's gonna do.

The muscles in his abdomen tighten and he bucks his hips, chasing his release, once, twice-!

And then both hands leave him. Gone, like they were just a figment of his imagination. Confused and not fully able to comprehend the lack of sensation, Yzura continues bucking his hips, chasing stimulation that's no longer there. The peak that he was about to reach slowly recedes, leaving his cock achingly hard and furiously leaking.

He swears, hissing out a curse in his native tongue without care that the mon-keigh whore can hear him and glares at her with eyes full of spite and lust.

"What do you think you're doing? Stop messing around!"

Despite his glare, the mon-keigh appears unthreatened. In fact, she appears to find it all very amusing. With cum-stained fingers, she taps her lips in a mocking display of deep thought. "Hm. Hmmm." She tilts her head to the side. "No."

For a moment, it feels like Yzura's world comes to a standstill. He stares at the mon-keigh, uncomprehending. "No?" he repeats, as if the words have suddenly got new meaning since last he checked.

That's when he hears that awful sound again, the sound of Orizhon chuckling. He throws him a withering glare but that glare quickly morphs into a look of shock as he stares up at a sight so terrible that it makes him want to run away.

Orizhon smiles at him. Like, actually smiles. And it's fucking terrifying because Yzura can't remember a time he's ever seen him do that. Orizhon leans closer, looms over him, and his long hair tickles his face.

"Remember; you asked her to do her worst."

The bad feeling that Yzura had been ignoring hits him like a Razorwing at the same time that those damned hands descend upon him once more.

It continues like that for- fuck, Yzura is not sure for how long. Time loses all meaning, ceasing to exist even as a concept as the mon-keigh, no, the daemon works him up again and again and again, getting him so close to orgasm that he can practically taste it, only to stop right before he reaches it.

At first, he spits curses and threats at both of them, each more vile and paiful than the last. If they don't do as he say then he will kill them and string them up by their entrails. No, scratch that, he will kill them even if they suddenly become obedient! He will chops their fingers off and feed them to them, he will gouge out their eyes and fuck the sockets until he pokes their brain, he- Fuuuuuck, he will pour acid into their ears and watch them writhe like worms on the ground while they beg for death! Shove insects down their throats that will devour them inside out! He will- he will-!

Fuck, he will probably die if he does not get to cum soon. Is that even possible? It feels like it is. His cock hurts with how hard it is, so flushed with blood that it surprises him he's got any left in the rest of him, and his balls fucking ache with how they have been manhandled. Being touched is equal parts pleasure as it is pain but he needs to have those hands on him or else he might just go mad.

Threats eventually give way to pleading which then turn into outright begging, pride forgotten.

When Magnolia once again stops right before he reaches his peak, Yzura can't help the sob that escapes him, equal amounts frustration, desperation and lust so overwhelming that he fears he might just come undone, body, mind and soul is this goes on for any longer.

"I need- I need!" His words dissolve into pathetic whimpers and cries as writhes in his bonds, leather digging further into his skin with each buck, but the knots hold and Orizhon's grip might as well be iron.

Magnolia's responding smile is sharper than any knife he's had the pleasure of wielding. "Oh baby, you might need it, but do you deserve it?"

"I do! I do!"

"Then why don't you prove it? Ori has been so nice and patient, why don't you show him some appreciation, hmm?"

The erection resting against his cheek shifts so it the tip grinds against the edge of his mouth. The intention could not be any clearer.

Yzura gets to work immediately, turning his head so that he's mouthing at Orizhon's cock. He presses, wet, open mouthed kissed along the shaft and sucks at the skin, paying particular attention to a thick vein that stands out and throbs under his tongue. It's apparently the right move as Orizhon hisses with pleasure, face screwing up and fingers fisting into his hair, and when Magnolia's hands land on his sides, Yzura almost weeps with relief, even if they have yet to touch his aching member.

From the corner of his eye, he sees her smile happily and the sight makes his stomach do little flips. "That's it baby, that's a good boy." Her hands trail up his torso and playfully flicks his nipples, making him moan. "This isn't so bad, is it?"

Afraid that she will move her hands away if he stops, Yzura simply hums in what he hopes she will interpret as agreement, lips never leaving Orizhon's cock. Her hands find themselves joining his squadmate's in his hair, soft where his are harsh. It's a startling contrast that sends jolts of pleasure down his back. Magnolia combs through his hair and tucks loose strands behind his ears in a gesture so tender that it leaves a strange taste in his mouth that almost overpowers the taste of sweat and sex.

It's almost... nice.

Of course, Orizhon has to ruin the moment by talking. "Cock-hungry little whore." His voice is little more than a hiss through clenched teeth. "If I had known this was all that it took to get you to shut up I would have taken your mouth long ago. Pulled your teeth out and made it a nice little hole for me to use whenever I so please."

Yzura rolls his eyes and is about to retaliate, maybe with a witty comment or maybe even with a bite, when Magnolia suddenly reaches down, grabs Orizhon's cock and tugs with such force that Yzura's head almost rolls of his lap from how suddenly Orizhon rises to his knees.

The look in Magnolia's eyes are anything but playful, mirth replaced with a cold expression, a mixture of boredom and disapproval. "Did I give you permission to talk to him like that?" When she's not immediately given an answer, her eyes narrow and she tugs on Orizhon's dick even harder, making him whimper. "Well?" Yzura watches with wide eyes as the man who he's seen stare down Haemonculi and not even flinch, visibly wilts and fucking apologizes.

"I'm sorry, mistress." He tilts his head so that the side of his throat is exposed, a drukhari gesture of submission that Yzura wonders if Magnolia even notices. "I overstepped, spoke when I had no right to." Voice softens into something pleading. "Please, forgive me."

There's a tense moment where nothing is said and no one moves as they await her response. Fuck, Yzura is pretty sure both drukhari are holding their breaths, he certainly is. One second. Two. Three. And then Magnolia's cold expression melts away, replaced by one filled with kindness and affection. Her grip on Orizhon's cock eases, turning into a sweet caress before she lets it go and cups his face with both hands, a gesture which he leans into.

"I could never stay mad at you" she coos and she leans closer to plant a quick kiss on Orizhon's lips. "So sweet and good to me. My pretty little lover." There's a small, almost shy smile on Orizhon's lips and he follows her hands when she lets him go, like he hungers for her touch.

Instead, Magnolia' hand dips down until she's caressing Yzura's cheek. It's still wet with oil and his own pre-cum yet he finds that he doesn't mind at all. And when her thumb dips between lightly parted his lips, he starts lapping at it with his tongue without second thought, entranced by the way she disciplines his fellow drukhari.

Magnolia turns her tender smile towards him at his ministrations and a soft chuckle escapes her when their eyes meet. "Besides," she pushes two more fingers into his mouth, which he starts suckling, "there's some truth to your words."

Orizhon perks up like a dog that's just been offered a treat. "Mistress?"

Carefully, like he's made out of glass, Magnolia eases her fingers out of Yzura's mouth. Her fingers are wet with spit that glimmers in the low light which she smears over his lips with a slow, sensual touch. Her eyes have a dangerous look in them and Yzura shudders with anticipation at her next words. "I do think your friend here hungers."

It's almost like they've rehearsed this part a thousand times before, the way they casually flip him over so that he's resting on his knees, ass in the air and only kept from having his face planted into the mattress Magnolia grabbing hold of his ponytail and yanking it backwards. His face pressed against the base of Orizhon's cock, right where his shaft meets his balls. It's a position of total submission.

It's so fucking hot it makes him feel dizzy.

Yanking his head furter back so what his lips skim along the shaft, Magnolia leans forward, pressing her chest against his back, and whispers in his ear.

"Open up."

There's not a single part of Yzura that would even consider refusing. His mouth falls open and that's all the invitation that Orizhon needs to slip inside.

His cock feels so much bigger like this and had Yzura not already seen it for himself then he would have thought it stretched on forever the way more feeds itself down his throat, inch after inch. It feels like an eternity before it's all inside of him, Orizhon hilting himself fully with a hiss and his hands coming up to dig his fingers into Yzura's scalp.

And for a moment, that's all there is. The soft ache of Magnolia yanking his hair, Orizhon's fingers that feel like they are trying to puncture his cranium, the impossible fullness in his throat and the thick, overwhelming scent of lust in the air.

Then Orizhon starts moving. He slowly eases himself out until only the tip remain on Yzura's tongue and drinks in the sight of the drukhari's cheeks all hollowed out and his spit-covered lips. Precum beads at the tip and subconsciouly, Yzura sweeps his tongue over it. That's all the encouragement Orizhon needs to slam back.

Yzura gags around the length but Orizhon does not let up for even a second. If anything, the sounds urge him to thrust even harder. He fucks Yzura's face like he'll die without it, like he hates him and needs him all at once, slamming his hips forward and hilting himself to the base every time until Yzura's nose is pressed flat against his pelvis and feels like it might break from the force behind each thrust. He chokes and sputters around the cock in his mouth, gullet spasming as the head hits the soft palate at the back of his throat over and over again, like it's trying to leave a permanent indentation. His heart hammers in his chest with such force that it feels like it's about to break his rib and his lungs are struggling for air.

The discomfort, and pleasure, of having his throat abused is only overwhelmed by feeling of Magnolia's saliva-covered hand caressing his sides before finally, finally sliding around to his front to envelop his own erection once more. If his mouth hadn't been so busy, Yzura is pretty sure he would have kissed her.

She works his cock in tandem with Orizhon's thrusts, a harsh, unforgiving rhythm that has Yzura moaning and writhing in ecstasy. When Orizhon grinds his hips, she takes the moment to play with his cockhead, dipping her thumb into the slit that's oozing precum which she then smears over his shaft, making the fisting of his cock a lot more smooth. Her other hand never relents on the grip it has on his hair.

Yzura barely even notices the fact that he's crying, fat tears streaming down his face, dripping down his chin to join the small pool of saliva and precum that's gathered on the silk sheets. His eyes feel like they have been replaced with burning pieces of coil and his face feels like it's boiling. He's so, so hot and a small part of him that's still cognizant enough to think hysterically wonders how his tears are not turning into steam. It's really hard to think though, especially if that thought is about anything other than the two bodies pressed against his. There's a knot inside his stomach that grows tighter and tighter with each thrust, each flick of the wrist, and the feeling is, fuck, it's overwhelming. It all serves to make him cry even harder.

Magnolia coos at him, soft and kind like she's not ruining him. She finally lets go of the grip she has on his hair and uses that hand to wipe some of his tears. "Look at you, taking us both so well." Her fingers dip to trace over his lips. "He look so pretty like this, doesn't he, Ori?"

The fact that Orizhon has to take a moment to collect himself speaks tons of what kind of state he's in. Still, when Magnolia asks a question, it's best to answer. "He- hngh!- He certainly does." A slight pause. "Would look, ah, even prettier if you fucked him?"

At the suggestion, Magnolia grinds her hips against Yzura's ass and the hand she used to wipe his tears slides down his back to palm at his ass instead. "Tempting. He would look so cute spread out, getting his ass fucked. Bet he'd make the sweetest sounds as well. I have just the toy in mind too..." Orizhon's hips stutter and Yzura does his best to not choke on cock when a finger teases his hole, just shy of entering. "Ah, maybe next time."

That's the only warning Yzura gets before that finger pushes deep inside his ass and that intrusive feeling, that pleasurable ache, is what finally pushes him over the edge.

Yzura screams and sobs as he comes, bucking like a wild animal as he paints his stomach white with his own seed along with the silk sheets. His back arches like a bow as white-hot pleasure shoots through his body. Magnolia's hands never cease their movement, working him through his orgasm and milking him for all he's got, squeezing his cock like she's trying to wring him dry and crooking her finger so it hits a spot inside of him that makes his toes curl.

It's almost too much. Maybe it is too much and he's simply fucked beyond caring. He's pretty sure he blacks out for a few moments.

That's when Orizhon comes as well with a rumbling groan, fingers digging harder into Yzura's scalp and tugging his hair so hard that he might tear it all off. Not that Yzura thinks he'd even have noticed, blissed out as he is. Orizhon empties his seed down Yzura's throat who can do nothing else but swallow it all down in greedy gulps lest he drown on it. It's only then that Magnolia stops. Her hands travel from his ass, his cock, to rub and massage his shivering body as she murmurs softs words of praise that he can't quite make out over the sound of the blood rushing back to his head. His head-head, not the other one.

Orizhon stays in his throat for a few moments longer after he's come, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of him clenching down, before slowly pulling, leaving a string of saliva connecting his cock to puffy lips. That's when Yzura is finally allowed to collapse unto the bed, face landing in that pool of cum and spit he had created.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on getting his erratic breathing under control and then, to stop shaking. He only cracks them open when he feels that familiar pair of hands on him, massaging his back, but his eyes are still blurry with tears.

"You did so, so good" Magnolia murmurs, hands trailing higher to massage his shoulders and Yzura couldn't stop himself from moaning even if he tried. "Such a pretty little thing. So handsome and strong." She leans over him and while he can't see it, he hears the way she kisses Orizhon who groans into her mouth. "And so did you. Both of you. So perfect for me."

"Ah, mistress, I need..." Orizhon whispers pleadingly.

"Oh, already? Did he really get you so worked up?" She tuts softly. "Well, I suppose I should reward you for your good behavior. Come, entertain me and maybe when you're done, your friend will be up for round 2?"

Orizhon chuckles, a sound that Yzura is slowly getting used to, and as the bed shifts next to him, he can't help but think that he might be in a bit over his head.

Well, judging by the way his own cock is already stirring once more, he supposes there are worse ways to go.

[geekthefreakout]

The Joy Leaving the Work

This post will be discussing the works of Neil Gaiman and my personal relationship with them. If you don't like that or cannot handle that, kindly don't read. Also, there will be allusions to SA in the discussions.

So, a couple of weeks ago I decided to pick up Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman-- a book I've owned for a couple of years that's been in my "to read pile" waiting its turn. In the light of the allegations against Gaiman, I put off reading it a couple of months more as I tried to process how I felt. Now I've read it.

Background: Neil Gaiman has been my favorite author bar none ever since I read Coraline in 5th Grade. He and Sir Terry Pratchett share a bookshelf of honor in my room- the one right behind my bed, so I can easily reach for a comfort read. I've always loved his twists on various stories-- The Graveyard Book and Neverwhere being two of my favorites. The dark-but-not-too-dark tone, the dry humor, the magical realism, all of it. Anansi Boys looked like it would have all of that.

And it did! In a vacuum, this would have been a very enjoyable read. But with the allegations, I noticed things that I wouldn't have before. For example (spoilers, I guess):

Mr. Nancy (the titular Anansi) is a funny old man, and often a bit lecherous. In his final moments, he's doing karaoke with some young, buxom blondes when he has a heart attack and falls off the stage, hand outstretched. As he goes down, he sticks his hand out, grabbing one girl's tube top and exposing her as he dies.

This anecdote in the book is presented as something that embarrasses his son (our protag) but is generally interpreted by the other characters as something that was just so funny and charming.

It made me uncomfortable. In fact, just about every time Mr. Nancy alluded to his Master Roshi-like interest in buxom young women, I felt uncomfortable. But wait, there's more:

Spider (secret twin brother of protag Fat Charlie) is interested in Fat Charlie's fiancee. He tricks her into thinking that he IS Fat Charlie, and this girl who had been saving her virginity til marriage is so taken by him that they have sex. Meaning not only did he entice the girl to sex under false circumstances (this is rape), but it's also unclear as to how much of her going along with him is really HER and how much is his... mojo, I suppose. To the story's credit, once she realizes what has happened she gets angry and breaks up with both of them, no longer wanting anything to do with them... until, of course, happenstance brings them together again and she admits that she had real feelings for Spider, who finds himself wanting to behave better for her.

That doesn't sit right with me in the best of circumstances. These are not the best of circumstances.

I finished the book and it took me this long- two weeks and change- to decide how I feel about it. And how I feel about it is this-- I cannot separate it from the author. I cannot enjoy this book because the slime from Gaiman's actions oozes all over it. And that sucks.

I'm almost afraid to reread my favorites from him, for fear that my happy memories of those books will be ruined too. That SUCKS.

And it makes me feel dumb for never having seen the misogyny in the books before. It's like when Rowling showed herself to be what she was and I couldn't enjoy Harry Potter anymore, but worse because Gaiman is an author that I was still actively reading, who had been vocally supportive of queer and trans people, who I'd still looked up to. When it all went down with Rowling, I realized that I'd been excusing a lot of problematic shit in her writing as ignorance, rather than malice. But it WAS malice. And now I'm wondering if I didn't make the same mistake with Gaiman. That sucks too.

Anyway. That's my rant. Thanks for listening. Please share if you're having issues like this too, it's good to not feel alone.

[babygirl-riley]

I love angst, can I make a request? y/n having crush on Ghost and them finding out that he had a lover that died. Only if you are not busy 🥹 Thank you!

Ghostly Lover

Ghost has always been your major crush and before you can even tell him, he confides with you.

“Invisible machinery, these moving parts inside of me. Well theyve been shutting down for quite sometime. Leaving only rust behind.”

A/N: Omgggg you had me have so many ideas. So I hope this one was something you had in mind! Also I am never busy for request! I love having them 🖤🖤

Warnings: angst, like seriously pure angst, mentions of cancer, minor character death, soft!ghost, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You had liked Ghost for years now, ever since being introduced to the team. At first he was distant and never truly paid any attention to anyone. Which was fine. He would come and sit but never engage. After landing on the tarmac he would pace and be the first one out. It made everyone wonder if he had a lass back at home. He would deny which eventually you thought it was true.

You knocked on your captain’s office waiting for his gruff voice to beckon you in. You stepped in closing the door behind you. “Everthin’ alright Sargent?”

You nodded little nervous to even ask the question. But both Gaz and Soap asked and got shot down. Soap mentioned that you were basically Captain’s long lost daughter so maybe he would answer you. You also wanted an answer kill the rumors and he done with it.

“Yeah yeah Cap just have a question.” You started smiling as you took a seat in front of the desk.

Price looked over you before shaking his head. “Nope not my business.” You gave a quizzed look before opening your mouth and shutting it. “You ask Ghost not me.”

“How did you…”

Price looked up from his papers once more and sighed. “Kid I have been hearing non stop asking from Soap and Gaz randomly has an interest in it as well. It doesn’t take a donkey to know what’s going on.”

You sighed leaning back into the chair. “We tried he doesn’t give us an answer.”

Price frowned before placing his pen down and leaning in. “Sargent, sometimes when people don’t say anything means they don’t want no one to know. Maybe this is one of these moments. Leave the man be.”

So you left it at that, felt like an asshole and told Soap and Gaz the same. So everyone dropped it. It wasn’t until the past two years he became more involved with the team. Coming to bars. Playing cards. Everything up the nine yards. You and him particularly became closer. You noticed that he would be keeping an eye out for you on missions and the same thing for you. Making sure each other’s backs were covered.

You both would banter back and forth with each other. Playful always. Ghost isn’t the touch type however, small touches will be played against your clothes or pat on the shoulder. Something that he wouldn’t do around the others or to others. It just fed your mind more your crush turning into a like.

It wasn’t until now you wanted to tell him. Couldn’t hide it anymore. Both of you worked together and it was just getting harder and harder not to show it. Finally when the team went out for celebrations you asked him if he wanted a smoke. He agreed and followed you out.

It was quiet for a moment listening to the cars passing by. You inhaled the cigarette you held before exhaling. “I like you Ghost.” You mumbled.

It went quiet again, you damn near thought he didn’t hear you from the no response that was suppose to come after. You were about to leave it as that and move on, not even making eye contact with him. “You can’t.” He said quickly not looking at you as well.

You snapped your head up to him. “And why can’t I?” You sounded irritated and as you should have. What gives for him to tell you that you shouldn’t.

Ghost shook his head. “Because ya don’t need to, kid”

You stood there for a moment before shaking your head. “Why?”

Ghost looked up at you, reading your eyes. He has known that you liked him for awhile, deep down he did but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to tell you but at the same time he wanted to. You both stared for a moment before he inhaled. “‘Cause anyone that does dies and rather keep ya alive.”

Ghost didn’t move after you blinked couple of times. “Ghost I won’t…”

“Kid,” He looked away before taking an inhale of his cigarette. “‘M also in love with someone and I don’ think anyone can replace her.”

“Oh,” You said quietly, this is one of these moments, you could hear Price’s voice in the back of your mind. Despite that voice you sighed and mumbled. “Could have started with that.”

Ghost felt bad that all this time of showing he felt the same, now that it was brought up it was gone. Not gone that he didn’t feel anything but guilt. Guilt was hitting his chest. His wife. What would she think? What would she do? Ghost sighed. “Why all the subtle hints then?” You asked look at him.

There it was. He was hoping that it wouldn’t have gotten this far. For you to confess all that. “I don’t know.”

You scoffed. “This is embarrassing,” you punched the bridge of your nose. “Well I am going to go now. I will see you inside.”

Ghost looked back down at you, watching as you looked away, started to head out. He felt bad that you were embarrassed, he hated that he made you feel that way. “She’s been dead for couple of years,” You stopped in your tracks, slowly looked over at him. “Cancer, terminal fucking cancer,” He paused scoffing, he wanted to stop talking wanting to shut up. He has told no one besides Price. Price was the only one who knew. Now you do. “It’s not that ya not amazing ‘cause you are it’s just…”

“I’m not her.” You finished half smiling. “It makes sense,” He gave you a quick confused look, he thought there was going to be a slap or yell but you were calm, happy? “You would be so anxious to leave years ago and just the last couple it’s like you never want to leave.”

Ghost looked away, shrugged, and sighed. “When you joined she was diagnosed, so getting home to her so I could spend time…it was important to me,” Ghost didn’t look at you the whole time. Looking ahead of him or to the side. “I wish I could move on, I’ve tried. She told me to, to move on and find someone. Just can’t.”

You frowned and nodded, your heart hurting for him. “I’m sorry LT.”

Ghost sighed. “Doesn’ matter anymore, kid. I just don’t want you to chase something that isn’t worth chasin’”

It was quiet for a moment, listening to the surroundings. “You would be to me but I won’t because your heart belongs to her and I won’t get in the middle of that.”

Ghost was shocked in his head. You respecting his boundaries and saying that made him respect you. Ghost nodded as he looked down at you. God he wish he could move on, your personality was similar to his lost lover. Deep down he missed the soft touches, the going out, the laughter, the warmth of someone he called home. He just couldn’t. You weren’t her. And you planned on not being her. Which he appreciated.

“Ya find someone who will want to. It’s just not me.” He said trying to sound encouraging.

You sighed and nodded. “Maybe Soap?” You smirked knowing how he would respond.

Ghost almost choked his cigarette. “Not that bloke. Let me look around before ya knee deep in mud yeah?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “No this isn’t your game to play Ghost. Besides I am a big girl you know.” You said patting his chest before heading inside.

Ghost shook his head and chuckled lowly. “‘Ight but don’t come cryin’ to me if he does somethin’ crazy.”

You put your hand on the handle of the bar. Inside you were sad not only being rejected but because Ghost was in pain that you couldn’t understand. You haven’t been through that pain yet. So you couldn’t understand but you can be there for him. “Ghost,” He locked eyes with you. “If you want to talk more about anything I am here for you.”

Ghost’s mind raced, he could just go on a couple of dates. Maybe explore this. Just his heart ached knowing that it could have been his ex-wife. The whole time he would imagine it was her, thinking about her smile and not yours. Ghost just nodded as you walked inside.

However, he can’t go chasing after ghosts yet he will always be chasing after hers.

[cyber-streak-2]

Happiest birthday to you, Styx! 🥳

My gift to you is a headcanon request:

Krok + any two Scavengers of your choice celebrating a Cybertronian reader’s birthday :)

Thank you! :) While I did go ahead and do the request, I ended up doing differently than how I normally do it because I just thought it would fit better.

The word isn’t coming to me right now, but I dunno if it’s really a drabble or something else. Either way, I didn’t do the typical way I write the requests this time.

~Cybertronian Reader Celebrating Their Birthday With The Scavengers~

Cybertronians celebrating the day they were made (cold), wasn’t entirely common—nor was it uncommon. A part of you had always wanted to do it before—but you usually got caught up in other things.

Like the war.

You just wanted it to be simple, nothing too big. So, after tracking down the others (it wasn’t hard, they were all watching tv together), you suggested the idea of it.

You were all going to stop on a planet in a couple of minutes for trading or whatever—and you were certain that there had to be at least a bar there or something that you all could go to.

Although you were asking them all, you glanced towards Krok while suggesting it, waiting to see what the monoformer would say about it.

“Sure,” He nodded, before taking a sip of his drink—which thankfully, Misfire hadn’t managed to steal this time.

~~~

After landing, and first dealing with a few other things, it hadn’t taken that long for you all to find a decent bar.

You’d remained inside with them for a while, but eventually, so many others began piling in—it was starting to get a little cramped—so you decided to step outside for a second.

After about six minutes, and a few—about seven—leaving, you decided to re-enter the bar, and rejoin your friends.

The moment you stepped back inside, you were nearly hit with two mechs that had been sent backwards—if not for someone pulling you away, they would’ve landed on top of you.

Looking away from the two random Cybertronians, you looked to your side, and realized that it had been Fulcrum that had pulled you out of the way.

“We gotta go,” He told you, and you nodded. You followed after him and Misfire, noticing the others waiting up ahead after you three went out another exit.

“What happened??” You heard yourself ask, all while you and the rest of the group were running back towards the WAP.

“Well-“ You heard Misfire say from above you—and while you did still listen to him (he mentioned Spinister’s name in his ramble), you became more focused on a familiar clicking noise.

Turning to your left, you noticed the Monoformer, clicking away with that object tightly in his fist. “Sorry about this-“

You just smiled, glancing back behind you, before back towards him and the others. “It’s okay, Krok- really,” You assured him, laughing—although it was a mix of an anxious yet happy one.

With how events usually turned out for you all, you hadn’t been all that surprised that this would happen. It made for an interesting birthday celebration.

Although, you were far more glad that you were simply celebrating it with your fellow Scavengers—they were fun to hang out with in their own ways.

[property-of-tojifushiguro]

You climbed out of the cab into the cold night air, slightly regretting the dress you were wearing. You paid for your ride and then walked towards the door of The Last Drop. You walked in and made your way through the bar until you got to the counter, sitting down on one of the open stools. The bartender immediately noticed you and walked over.

“You look absolutely stunning. Now, what can I get for you tonight, love?”

You blushed. As much as Vander complimented you, you were never able to get used to it. But you did feel rather pretty tonight, so you didn’t try and fight him.

“Uh, just a raspberry cosmopolitan, please.”

“Of course, love.”

You watched as your boyfriend made your drink. You still weren’t sure how you had managed to start dating him. As far as you were concerned, he was way out of your league.

“Here you go, dear.”

You blushed again.

“Thank you.”

Unfortunately for you, it was a rather busy night. You sat there, sipping your drink and waiting for an opportunity to talk to your busy boyfriend, but any conversation you got to have was short lived as there was always someone who wanted to order a drink. There wasn’t really any reason for you to be here. You could have just come to see him when he was done with work. However, you had had a long, hard day and wanted to relax with a few drinks.

You were still on drink number one when a fairly attractive man walked up to you and tried to start up a conversation, even offering to buy your next drink. You tried to politely decline, making it clear that you weren’t interested, but the man seemed to refuse to leave you alone. Unfortunately, at the moment, Vander was busy mixing drinks, so you were on your own for the time being.

The man continued to try and make conversation, and you continued to give brief answers to any questions asked, trying to make your disinterest clear.

This continued for another five or ten minutes, you weren’t really sure, but the man started to get bolder and decided to turn your head to face him and try to rest a hand on your waist. The same moment you felt his hand touch your waist, you heard something slam into the counter behind the bar. Your head whipped to the side, and you saw a clearly angry yet eerily calm Vander standing there, staring down the guy who now looked absolutely terrified.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

His hands shot to his side, and he took a few steps back.

“Uh, sorry man. I didn’t realize she was taken.”

And with that, he scurried away to wherever he had come from.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

“Sorry, I should have been able to handle that…”

“Nah, that’s why you have me.”

Your conversation was once again cut short as someone was waving him over to make them a drink.

The night continued on, and by the time the bar was closing, you had made it through nine drinks (due to Vander forgetting to keep count). Needless to say, you were wasted.

Everyone was gone now, and Vander was finishing closing everything up while you laid your head on the bar, spacing out.

Eventually, Vander finished up with his tasks and came over to get you before leaving.

He tapped your shoulder, and you raised your head and looked at him before breaking out into a goofy smile. You pointed a finger at him.

“Boyfriend!”

“Yes, darling. Let's go home now, alright?”

“Okayyyyy.”

You stood up and wobbled a bit before you stumbled into Vander. He laughed at your behaviour and scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the bar and locking up. You laid your head on his chest as he carried you to his apparent that was in the building next door to the bar. You were watching the world as it moved past you and listened to your boyfriend's heartbeat. By the time he had reached his door, you were asleep.

He opened the door, careful not to wake you, and carried you inside. He took you into his bedroom and laid you gently on his bed. From there, he slipped off your heels as well as your dress and pulled the covers over you.

He watched you for a moment before getting ready for bed himself. You looked so beautiful, even when you were drunk and asleep. God, he was glad you were his.

Join the tag list

[koiifiishy]

Prompt Synopsis: you've unlocked a new interaction with isaac the journalist! CW: typical DoL warnings Misc: nongendered you/pc insert. mostly an introductory drabble!

You had met the American a couple times while you were out about the town, whether it be on your way to one of your jobs or returning from them. He seemed to get around just as much as you did, never idling for very long, and if you had faith in people anymore you may have even said he seemed fairly normal. But experience told you that there was hardly anyone in town, whether they were a tourist or a resident, that could be considered "normal".

Your suspicions seemed to be confirmed during one fateful run in with Isaac, where he had propositioned you. Not for sex, but for information.

"See, I'm a journalist," He had explained, "and i like t'have various sources available to me. Makes for a better net of info to work with." You had been skeptical, saying that there wasn't much a school kid like you could tell him. He'd smiled at you in a way you're sure most people would find charming, but you couldn't help but focus on the flash of canines and the crinkle of his eyes. Like a fox, you thought, he seemed ready for you to say something along those lines.

"Of course, I'll pay you for your time. School kid like you could probably use some pocket change, huh?" he'd turned your words back on you with a slight cock of his head. "I hear it's not cheap livin' in this town." and although he hadn't elaborated, you thought you could read well enough between the lines to realize he may have known more about your situation than you were comfortable with. If it wasn't sexual favors though, you had figured that agreeing may have been better in the long run.

"Pocket change doesn't cut it." You sniffed, playing difficult. "My pockets are pretty deep, you know, hard to fill."

Isaac had laughed at that and nodded along in good humor, "Yeah? Inflations a bitch, huh? Don't worry, I got you. How's this," and just like that he'd pulled out his wallet then and there, flashed a £50 and asked for your name in exchange for it. You'd given it, figuring this had to have been the easiest money you'd make all week — and in doing so had solidified your role as an informant to Isaac the Journalist.

Now he occasionally sought you out while you were working, whether it be at the cafe or the club, and spent an hour or so sipping at some drink as you told him whatever you thought would interest him. You only told him one or two things per visit, not wanting to run out of this easy cash, and Isaac would leave a tip at the end.

Like tonight, as you worked behind the bar of Darryl's strip club, Isaac sat at one end of the bar nursing a cocktail. You had noticed that he was an easy customer to tend to pretty early on - he ordered his drink, smiled and said his hellos, and then left you to your work until you had a moment to talk to him. It felt more natural like that, like you were just chatting with another patron rather than an employer, and a part of you thought that that was how Isaac preferred it. You'd never really asked what exactly it was that he was writing about...

You made your way to him, wiping at some glasses. He didn't bother turning towards you, eyes cooly following the dancers as they moved across stage. You figured he was listening, so you spoke. "Hey, you never did tell me what it was you were writing about."

Isaac lifted his glass to his lips but didn't take a sip before agreeing. "I sure didn't."

"If I knew what it was you were actually looking for, I'd probably have better things to tell you." You tried to reason with him. He took his time drinking.

"Maybe." He said, and after a couple of minutes of waiting for him to say more, you realized he wasn't going to. A little frustrated and disappointed at the lack of cooperation, you shook your head. "How do I even know you're actually a journalist then? Maybe you're just some weirdo who likes talking to me." This time, he snorted — a bemused sound with a smile that further drove the noise home.

He faced you then, and the full weight of his pale green eyes settled heavy over your shoulders. Cheek cupped in his hand, he leaned against the bar.

"You're so curious about me. I'm flattered~." You may or may not have rolled your eyes. "I do have the credentials, whether you believe me or not. But any more than that, and you're going to have to consider it payment. It's cash or info, kid." He tapped a ringed index finger against his temple. "You don't get both."

[ ! you can now ask isaac one thing per visit as payment, or accept the usual £tip! ]

[sunflowercow04]

A Plan (Almost) Gone Wrong

Sum: You are Donnie’s partner. You often help them get intel on some real bad guys, and your job at a local strip club helps since that is an often popular hangout for notorious crime bosses in New York. So, when Donnie asks if he can accompany you to work to get some information, you don’t think twice about saying yes. It has some interesting consequences, but not the kind you’d expect.

When Donnie asked you if you would feel comfortable with him and his brothers coming to your work to try and get information on a particular mob boss, Tobias “Triggerman” Green. He was a regular at your club, The Cat Box, and you knew how dangerous he could be. So, you of course said yes immediately. Donnie and his brothers knew what you did for a living, so it didn’t bother you if they saw you at work. Donnie promised they would wear their cloaking broaches the whole time and wouldn’t interact with you to keep suspicion off of you. You listened to the plan and promised to help the best you could from the sidelines, and you didn’t think twice about it.

The night came relatively fast, and the plan was put into motion. You, of course, went about your night as usual. You wore a particularly revealing outfit, one that showed off your body beautifully. You did your makeup nicely, pushing your hair back and styling it the best you could as you waited for your cue. The plan was to wait until after you’re off stage and serving tables. Tobias would often request to sit in your section, so the boys already knew you’d get close to him. Your job was to place a bug on the bottom of his cup. It was small and clear, so he shouldn’t notice. The boys were here just in case, as a backup for you and to make sure the information they got was good.

Your stage name was called, so you quickly fixed your hair once more and stood behind the curtains. The lights dimmed as the song you requested started to play, something upbeat and provocative as usual. You may be helping your boyfriend get information, but that wasn’t going to stop you from trying to get as much money as possible from your regulars still. You entered the stage, strutting out and taking your time as you approached the pole. You firmly gripped it, allowing your body to spin around it as you got your leg up onto the pole. You did your normal routine, letting yourself focus on this for the time being, until you noticed someone staring. Not just someone, your handsome boyfriend to be precise. He blended in well to the crowd but stood out just enough for you to spot him by the bar with a drink in his hand. His eyes followed you across the stage, watching your every move with a lovely expression. What most people would see as a blank expression, you knew him much better. The slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, his widened eyes, his tight grip on the cup… you knew he was enamored with your performance, with you. He had never seen your work like this before, and he didn’t know how to react. He only moved when Leo finally yelled at him that Tobias was sending men out with a briefcase, and two of them needed to follow. Donnie and Raph were staying at the club to keep an eye on Tobias and make sure the plan went smoothly, while Leo and Mikey went after the others to try and find out what they were up to.

Soon, your time on stage was over. You made your way to the back, and changed your shoes into slightly more comfortable ones, before making your way onto the floor. Your first stop was drinks for Tobias’ table. You slipped the bug under the cup as planned and walked up to the table with your usual smile. You could feel Donnie’s eyes on you the whole time as you set out the drinks, smiling politely at the table. It was going smoothly until Tobias suddenly smacked your ass, laughing and asking how much you were for a night. You heard Raph panicked telling Donnie to calm down from somewhere behind you as you searched your brain for a quick response. Before you even could, however, Donnie suddenly appeared behind you, wrapping himself firmly around your middle with a soft, animalistic growl. Raph quickly ran up, trying to figure out how to get Donnie away from you without blowing your cover. You, however, were one step ahead.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Green,” You started politely, a soft smile on your face as you looked down at the other, “I’m afraid my night is booked. But I must say I am flattered someone like you would want me.” You lied easily. That seemed to calm the mob boss down enough to turn back to their conversation as Donnie basically dragged you away from the table. Before you could say anything, like scolding him for almost blowing your cover, or almost wrecking the mission, he pulled you into a very passionate kiss, pulling you firmly against his chest and locking his arms around your waist. After a long moment, he pulled away and looked down at you with a very serious expression as he spoke.

“You have every right to be pissed off at me. I would be too. But.. after seeing you on that stage, and seeing him talk to you like that… I couldn’t just leave you there. I love you. And I couldn’t help but feel protective over you.” He admitted honestly, looking slightly ashamed. After a moment of contemplation, you smiled softly up at him and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his lips.

“Donatello, I am yours. You don’t have to worry about me, I know how to take care of myself. But I think it’s sweet how possessive you can get. Just please don’t do that again at my work. It could cost me my job.” You chuckled, before letting him go and going back to work quickly. Raph dragged him off to finish their mission as you finished work. Their mission was successful despite the setback, and they were successfully able to put Tobias Green away.

When you got home that night, Donnie was by your side the whole night. You made sure he knew that you loved him, and made sure he knew you were his.

Author's Note: I'm still very new to this, so let me know some suggestions on how to improve or some tips or anything!

[dianadeadwing]

After the amazing and fun art storm of roudiseweek here’s a sappy courtship Boblin drabble fic I wrote back when I was really in the boblin feels.

Warning for fragmentary sentence construction.

Word count: 2,147

Tw: vague mentions of Bob’s mom’s death / fear of losing loved ones

--

He doesn't tell his Dad. He doesn't want to hear about all the things that could go wrong. All the things that he did wrong. Right now meeting Linda sits like this perfect little crystalline moment in his head. Almost as if he'd watched it in a movie and everything that had happened had just enfolded completely separate from any action Bob could have taken.

Not for the first time Bob thinks about how significant days start the same as any other. It's not like the movies with a sense of overwhelming dread and dramatic dips in the music. The day starts with tooth brushing and burnt coffee and too bright incandescent lighting. It starts feeling normal and just...

--

Once when he was twelve sitting on the bench after school. He remembered thinking that his dad was late. Later than usual. Because he was often late. There was so much going on. Mom in the hospital, and Dad trying to balance that and the restaurant. Sometimes Bob just thought it'd be better if he walked home to make it easier on both of them. But his Dad always showed up eventually, stubbornly, pretending everything was normal.

So he waited.

And waited.

This time until dark.

---

"So Bobby," Linda chirps, her soft fingers trailing along the hair on his arm. And Bob thinks about how no one has really called him that since--

"I--" It comes out his mouth without warning. Stupid. Stupid. "Do you really mean--? Do you really want--" And, God, he wishes he could be confident and assured but this has to be a mistake.

Linda, vibrant, firework, sparkler, Linda can't be looking at him with eyes all lidded and that smile and she can't why would she--

"Want to buy me a drink?" Linda answers in all the confidence he lacks. Her eyes glitter in the dimly lit bar, eyelashes lowered looking at him like he matters at least a little bit. "I definitely, want you to buy me a drink."

And her smile is wow. Wow. Wow. wow.

"Um," He must have been staring for a moment too long. Linda doesn't seem to mind the attention but her friend giggles lightly into her own beverage. "What would you like?"

He's helpless, stupid, starstruck by her.

"Mmm..." Linda pretends to think and there's so much mirth behind her eyes as they meet his own, "Something this big," She moves her hands about a foot apart, winking one eye to make really sure of the distance, "And full of alcohol!"

"Yeah," He says immediately and turns to flag down a waiter. He can't think of a single drink that exists on the planet so he just tells the waiter to keep it coming on him. Linda giggles.

"So Bobby," she starts, and he's too caught up in her to notice the large glittering engagement ring on her finger, "What is it you do for a living?"

And that, that he can answer, so with a big smile, a true honest to god smile he meets her eyes and says, "I cook."

--

And miracle of miracle he sees her again. and again. And again. Every time he thinks this surely must be the end. Someone like her so full of life and laughter must be fed up with someone like him. But she isn't she keeps coming back. She keeps laughing at his dumb jokes. And he tells her about all of the things he hopes for and all of the things he's afraid of and he swears she listens.

--

It hits him one day. They are sitting in a drive in snuggled up close movie theater watching something about robots and Linda hums under her breath while periodically kissing him under his ear before turning away pretending she hadn't done a thing.

He never asks her what she wants out of life. He's talked at length about his own dreams of starting a restaurant. Of making all of these interesting and flavorful burgers. Of washing his own dishes and locking the door with his own key. He's never asked her what she wants. What she dreams about her life looking like. And that's important if they are doing to be-- If they will be-- If all this is to keep going forward.

"Lin," He starts. But Linda is a firework, glittering and explosive so she derails him.

"What, Bobby? Can't focus on the movie?" Linda laughs and her eyes are lit up from from explosion on the screen he definitely hadn't been paying attention to.

"I--" Bring it back, this is important he tells himself, "Linda? What do you want? I mean? In the future? I want my restaurant but what..." He gestures vaguely, "What's your dream."

And Linda just smiles at him big and bright, like he's being a little bit dumb and he probably is, he usually is, but he can't really think of why this time.

"It's not a thing." She says still smiling like she's in on a joke he's not even close to getting, "I just want to be happy."

---

Happy.

He can't remember the last time he was really and truly happy. And then there she is. And he can't help but feel every piece of himself light up every time she so much as looks in his direction. He's working as a grill cook at some random dive to pay the rent and singing at the top of his lungs. So much when he finally quiets down there's actually applause. Wolf whistles.

At the end of his shift a coworker whispers "Must be some girl you've got."

And Bob can't help the sappy smile on his face, "She is."

---

And the first time she stays over at his little studio apartment he spends way too much time cleaning and trying to make everything perfect. He lights candles. He plays music really low and even gets her flowers. He has to make everything perfect. He has to convince her to see past every little glaring flaw and stay with him regardless.

Bob feels selfish and arrogant but he can't help it. He's somehow tricked her into being with him this long if he can just keep it going possibly forever then he never has to go back.

It's funny how before didn't feel so bad but the thought of going back to life before Linda makes him feel like death now. There is no going back. He can't. He knows what it's like to love someone.

---

And of course, she's bright and funny and a million miles ahead of him. The moment she enters his apartment and sees all the silly little candles she blows one out. Makes a little wish under her breath and turns to him with a big smile.

"I love you," She says before he can even say hello.

And instead of being cool and composed and acting like he's been there before he wraps her up in his arms to keep her from seeing how close to crying he is.

"I love you too," He whispers into her shoulder and hopes she can hear him over the sappy jazz he is playing.

---

And he just can't. Every day feels like he's getting closer and closer to the sun. He feels its warmth deeper and deeper in his skin, his bones, his soul. And he can't lose her. He can't.

But he could.

---

"Pop," Bob says. He's picking at a little crusted-on stain on the countertop of his father's diner. He can't look at him for this. He doesn't want to see what's there. He's afraid of it.

"What?" His father responds tersely, "You've been wound up since you got here. Just spit it out."

To his credit, Bob doesn't even bristle at his tone. He's too in his head.

"I want you to meet someone." And it's surprising how easily the words come out of his mouth. It's the truth but it's also. It's something else.

"Oh," His father responds. And it's uncharacteristically silent in the once bustling diner. It's after closing usually there's the sound of dishes hitting together rags on counter tops. But now nothing.

"Linda." And in spite of his own nerves, he looks up to see his father. He thought he'd be embarrassed or ashamed or something but all he is... "I-- she's my girlfriend," He smiles without meaning to, " I care about her a lot."

He didn't know what he expected but the smile on his father's face is big and genuine and not even a little bit bitter.

"I'd love to meet her." He says.

---

And they get along like. Well, people that get along really well. Linda's very good at stuff like that. Walking into a room and making everyone comfortable and at ease.

The first time she meets Big Bob she wraps him up in a hug that leaves little Bob and his father surprised.

"How are you, Big Bob," She says, laughter in her voice acting like old friends, "Hah, love the mustache. I see where Bobby gets his lip wig from."

How can she do that? Enter a room of strangers and be totally at ease? Bob had been so nervous to have Linda meet his father. He'd been so nervous about so many things and then comes Linda showing him that he had nothing to be nervous about after all.

Bob finds himself elated to see the smile lit up on his father's face.

–

Linda gets them drink for drink into the night. There may have been some singing and dancing on tables. He doesn't even notice when his father leaves them to their own devices.

--

"Linda's a great girl." Big Bob says the next morning over coffee.

"I love her," Bob says in return and he hadn't intended to say anything of the sort it just comes spilling out of him unwilling to be unheard.

Neither of them says anything after that. It's just morning sounds of doors opening and garbage trucks. But Bob can see the sad little smile on his father's face.

--

"I was twelve," Bob tells her one night, they are half naked snuggled up in bed together in that sweet place between sleep and wakefulness, "When she died."

"Your mom," Linda says calmly, because she's good at these things but he feels the ways her shoulders square up under his bare fingers.

"Yeah," It squeaks out, "And um, Dad was never the same. I was never..."

Linda props her chin up on his chest and Bob feels himself drawn into her as he always is. Her eyes are always laughing but with something else brewing beneath. "Tell me about her."

And he can't help but laugh. Like, it's so easy. Like it's not daggers. Like it's not a reminder of all he lost.

But still, "She was happy. We were happy." he leaves out and then we weren't.

---

Linda has sort of moved into his apartment. From the moment he met her honestly. She's terrible at keeping track of her things. Something of hers is always lingering around his apartment. At least he assumed she always was forgetting things but maybe she was just always leaving open a reason to come back.

He realizes after what had to have been a least a month that she hasn't left. Every morning she's giggling at him over coffee, wiping leftover food from his mustache kissing his cheeks, nose, and eyebrows before he heads off to work, straightening the collar on his shirt.

Every night he lays in a bed that smells like her. Hears her chattering away in another room or grinning at him while talking on the phone. She's so beautiful it hurts. And he can't go back to before. He absolutely cannot imagine being without her. He doesn't know who he even used to be.

--

It's not a big affair. He wishes he'd thought about it more. Been able to plan things and give her something special. But they are just ending the day together wrapped in each other's arms on the couch. Linda is telling some good-natured story about something that happened at her day job. her whole face lighting up and bearing down in anger at the appropriate moment. And he kisses her before she finishes a sentence.

"Bobby," she snorts undignified and he loves he loves her so much he's shaking with it, "Were you even listening?"

"No." He blurts of and she gives him a half-hearted little slap feigning offense.

"Last time I--"

"Marry me." Bob blurts out. Pulls back, "I mean, will you--"

And she's just laughing so hard there are little tears in her reddened eyes, "Absolutely."

And then Bob can't stop laughing with her.

And it's like hitting rewind on a cassette tape, a VHS. Back to the start, one, two, three. Only this time he hopes for a better ending.

[starlightguh]

Lovin’ Me Like Tequila Does

Word count: 1,596

Tags: Alcohol, dancing, slight cowboy Sylus

Summary: You were giving Sylus a bit of a cold shoulder because of a hard week of work, and decided to chase your woes away with your friends in a country bar.

A/N: After getting tequila as a food recommendation and Miranda Lambert’s song coming on my playlist, I felt compelled to write this. True experience for me is my line dancing teacher and I did a bikini bull riding contest at a country bar, so drew major inspiration from that since while I didn’t win, I pictured a laughing Sylus the whole time. Anyways, enjoy this quickie one shot!

He pissed me off.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Sylus dearly, he makes my heart flutter and loves me better than any other man will. But sometimes we’re like oil and water when it comes to our life styles.

Since he was the leader of Onychinus something his job got in the way of mine. A certain protocore had been going around and once he got his hands on it, he ended up trading it for some intel, which lead to the person he traded it to creating more wanders.

I had been busting my ass off in the no hunt zone for the past week, I was so pissed off at him when I found out I’ve been leaving him on read and giving the hardest cold shoulder I can.

Every crow I’ve seen I’ve been using as target practice to ensure he wasn’t spying on me. I currently couldn’t care if he was stalking me, he made me work so hard this week he deserves some tough love and he better work hard to earn my favor back.

My phone buzzed with another text, I glanced at the preview of the message.

Sweetie, please this is all a misunderstanding, I’m sorry.

Sorry doesn’t sweeten my tea or help my back pain asshole, I mentally tsked to myself as I closed my phone and finished styling my hair.

After killing what feels like a million wanderers on patrol, I got a day off. Tara and Simone had invited me out to a girls night at one of the bars in town. It was some country themed bar, Tara was really into westerns lately and wanted to check it out.

The bar had a girls night where the liquor was a bit cheaper, and I planned on getting drunk to chase away my woes. So I didn’t care what kinda place it was as long as the drinks were cheap.

I did do my best to try and fit the country theme as I put on daisy dukes and a cow print mini tank top. I hummed and ignored the constant buzzing of my phone as I got ready to look hot and have fun. Sylus can wait. I had earned a drunken night with my friends.

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When we walked into the dimly lit bar, it was mainly lit up with beer neon signs and fairy lights all around. I’m the middle of the place was a dance floor where the thunderous sound of cowboy boots stomped in rhythm to the beat of an unfamiliar upbeat country tune.

“This is awesome! Oh wow look at the dancers that looks so fun! Right?” Tara was over the moon at the atmosphere.

My body shifted to head toward the barstools in the further corner of the venue, “Yeah you should go dance with Simone, I’m going to drink.”

“Oh don’t be like that, you should dance with us at least once,” Simone looked at me with puppy eyes.

“Fine. But at least let me get drunk first?” I responded with a laugh.

Both girls nodded and suddenly we were cheers-ing margaritas at the bar. As soon as the sweet sting of tequila touched my lips did my aching body feel relaxed from the high strung stress this work week put me through.

Simone and Tara had ventured off to attempt to go learn a line dance while I stayed at the bar and chased this delicious buzz thrumming through my body.

“Two shots of Clase Azul for me and the lady please,” a deep voice purred behind me.

Too lost in licking the salt rim of my drink did I noticed the shot glass placed in front of me.

“Listen cowboy, I’m not interested-“ I stopped dead in my tracks to turn around and be met with Sylus in a black leather cowboy hat.

“Mmm? Sure bout’ that kitten?” Sylus winked at me with a mock southern drawl.

“What are you doing here?” I huffed, “You’re in time out with me.”

“Oh? Is that what this is?” Sylus chuckled a bit, “You know I can’t stay away from you long. Look sweetie, I didn’t mean for all of this to happen. Had I known that idiot was going to make more work for my precious darling, I would have never given it to him.”

I gave him a flat expression as I chugged the last of my cocktail. I placed my head in my hand and looked at him, “Hmm I knew deep down you didn’t mean to do it,” as his face brightened up, I leaned forward with a charged pissed off energy, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna punish you for putting me through hell. So suffer.”

I smirked and placed the shot he bought me between my teeth and tilted my head back to let the stinging burn warm my insides up and make me feel even more floaty.

Sylus just frowned at me and placed his hands on the bar to cage me in at my barstool. “Please let me make it up to you…How can I get back in your good graces?” There was an edge of desperation in his voice, it ignited fire that the tequila in my system was the fuel for.

“Hmm,” I smiled and leaned back against the bar more to look at him, my eyes shifted to the dance floor with a cowboy trying to twirl both a giddy Tara and a nervous Simone, “Get me drunk and ask me to dance. Let’s see if you got what it takes to make me relax.”

His red eyes widened in shock as he blinked down at me, “Is that all kitten?”

“For right now, yes. You do also owe me a back massage, but that’s a problem for later,” I chuckle. Next thing I know I take the shot glass from his hand and tilt my head back as I place the bottom of the shot glass between my teeth as I quirk my head back and point for him to take his drink.

Sylus chuckles as he leans his torso over me and his teeth grip the glass from me and he leans his head back to take the shot from my mouth. I laugh at the slight scrunch in his face at the burn of the liquor.

“Wanna go shot for shot?” I tease him.

“Absolutely not, you’re already a bit drunk I can tell.” He grabs my chin, “I only like a fair fight.”

“Fine by me, but just know I can probably out drink you.” I chuckle as Sylus flags down the bartender for another round.

By a third round of shots, I had his large calloused palms dragging me to the dance floor, and the other on the dip of my waist.

A slow but upbeat country song played in the background, and in my drunken haze I felt like no one else was on this dance floor. Sylus, the more sober between us, twirled me with ease. But I still managed to help add my own flare to twirls and dips as we danced.

Cause he don’t love me like tequila does, the song rang out as I had my dominant leg raised to my hip and slowly pointing out past the apex of his waist. Sylus let out a whistle at my flexibility as we continued our dance.

The yellow glow of the fairy lights in the bar seemed to blurr into a cinematic haze as my mind tried to focus on the burning red stare of Sylus’ gaze. As he dipped me at the end of the song and slowly lifted both of us back up, I playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and placed it on my head.

As Sylus put his hand on my waist and led me back to the bar he sensually whispered in my ear, “Sweetie…Do you know what it means to take a cowboys hat like that?”

I turn around and look at him with a confused look, “No? What are you talking about?”

As Sylus laughs and is about to answer my question, Tara comes up to me and grabs a hold of my hand uttering my name over and over in an excited squeak.

“Simone entered the bikini bull riding contest! Come on, let's go cheer!” Tara exclaimed as she all but dragged me to the adjourned room in the bar that had a mechanical bull shaking its patrons around like rag dolls.

“She what now?” I asked and turned around to shrug at the laughing figure of Sylus behind me. I took his hat and placed it back on his head.

“Sorry honey, I’m gonna have fun with my girls, I’ll put you out of timeout though and call you when I get home?” I asked with a pleading look. The last thing I wanted was more work if Tara or Simone caught on to his true identity thanks to my loose drunken tongue.

“Fine. But close out my tab, drinks are on me tonight sweetie. Be safe,” he placed his hat back on my head, “Don’t dance with anyone else. I’ll know if you do. And don’t take any more cowboy hats besides mine either, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be safe,” I rolled my eyes and hopped into his arms a bit as I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a deep kiss. His tongue entered my mouth, and as I explored his, I chased the high, the burn, and the bitterness of tequila on his tongue.