#and no it's not the fact that there are handsome men and gorgeous women in all these medias

[rey-jake-therapist]

I post about so many different medias of various style I sometimes stop and wonder if it confuses people who follow me, or consider doing it.

I imagine that it's probably you guys in this meme, trying to figure out what exactly I'm a fan of:

[ratskinsuit]

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

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A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

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Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

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A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[amymbona]

So I kinda had this au idea for sex therapist!Patrick but who specialises in treating people who find it hard to cum. But he's got this warm/confident/empathetic vibe, like what he loves most about his job is helping the men and women who come to him for guidance; who trust him to touch and tease their bodies, to just look at them and know what it takes to make them finally feel good. I dunno, I can just see Patrick putting his sex god powers towards helping and healing ❤️

THE GASP I JUST GASPED

Poor you :((( You're so ashamed of yourself, thinking all of the mistakes come from your side, that your body is just broken in some way, that you're the reason why none of your sexual partners were satisfied. And it breaks your heart honestly, 'cause you're afraid you won't be able to find a long term partner just because of this simple reason. You're aware sex is important in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be only your partners who remain unsatisfied - usually under the impression that you're not turned on enough by them to actually cum - but mainly yourself, unable to cum despite your raging arousal. And the worst thing is, you still don't know whether the mistake is really in you, or if you've just only been fucked by shitty men.

It takes a lot of courage for you to make an appointment at the Zweig clinic, as you're incredibly creeped out by the idea of opening yourself like that to some stranger. He sounds friendly on the phone, offering you a bunch of dates to choose from and just tells you not to worry, come in some comfy clothes, have a good breakfast in the morning, and that he will help you.

When you actually first step in, you're surprised to find a pretty domestic looking place. There's no waiting room, only a small corridor with one chair. It seems that doctor Zweig either has very little clients, or just manages to split them into so many appointments that they never overlap. You sit on the chair, one leg nervously bouncing as you wait for the door to open, really nervous what he will be like.

Doctor Zweig doesn't let you wait for long, his curly head peeking out of the door - "Welcome, it's so nice to meet you!" - and simply from the sight of his handsome face, you feel like you could cum. He's by far the most gorgeous man you have ever set your eye on, and suddenly you're almost sure why he is so successful.

He invites you in, insisting you call him Patrick and asks your name, then offers you a place to sit. "Would you like anything? A glass of water? Tea, coffee?" You leave the comfy looking sofa for him and plop down in a vintage looking arm chair as he goes to fetch you a glass of water. Soon, he returns with a smile and leisurely sits down, shooting one more smile in your direction.

You do the basic introduction when you tell him your name and age and then obviously the reason why you came. Patrick doesn't ask for your personal details at first, instead opting to tell you something about himself too. You learn he is nearing his thirties and has a fair share of sexual experience, that his biggest hobby is tennis and some other facts he considers important for you two to warm up.

For the whole time, you're struggling to keep your eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of his face. He's genuinely so handsome, like a god damn model, like he should be on the cover of some magazine. His eyes are so rich, shining at you like two expensive diamonds, and yet incredibly warm, compliment by a casual smile on his face. The curls on top of his head bounce lightly as he nods in response to your slurred words, patiently waiting for you to fully explain yourself. He allows you all the time you need, stating you're his only customer for today and so there's no need to rush. Your comfort, he says, is his priority.

Then, the personal questions begins. How many sexual partners have you had, all the positions you ever had sex in, which one usually makes you cum and do you ever come? Have you ever squirted? Does penetration work? So many questions that have you a blushing, sweating mess, almost making you want to cry. But Patrick is so sweet and kind, saying that it's completely natural, that nobody is judging you and you can talk to him as if he's just an old friend. This time, nothing serious happens and you two only make another appointment for next week, allowing you all the time in the world. When you're leaving, he asks whether you're feeling, in any way, aroused, stating it's important to know the effect he himself has on you. He gives you a homework as well, to come up with all the things that turn you on.

The next time you come in, you're wearing a pretty floral dress, as you're more afraid of him seeing you than really touching you. This way, if you two proceed to anything like that, it could all be hidden. Again, Patrick greets you with the usual smile, making your heart warm up, and invites you in. He sits you on the sofa, positioning himself next to you, and listens as you list all the things that excited you the most.

"I'm gonna touch you a bit, okay?" Patrick proposes and you nod, knowing that's the whole purpose of this predicament, so you can't really refuse.

He goes really slowly on you, so slowly and cautiously, that is actually leaves you surprised. First, his hand finds yours and he intertwines your fingers, inspecting the rings on your fingers and then the bracelets on your wrists. He kisses you on the cheek and throws one arm around you shoulders, easing you into his chest. He's so warm and smells good, it makes your head spin.

Then, Patrick finally kisses you on the lips, just lightly smooching the cherry taste of your lip stick, tasting you. He lets you kiss him back, allowing you to set the pace and intensity, engaging in your first make out session. His palm finds a place on your knee, just where your dress ends, but he doesn't dare slide under the fabric yet. Instead, his fingers lightly rub your knee and squeeze it.

When you begin responding more hungrily, your nose bumping into his messily, he pulls away. In front of him sits a cute, blushing girl, her pupils blown wide as she's unable to believe she's been kissed like that. Seriously, nobody has ever kissed you better than Patrick just did. And it's only the first kiss you two have shared. If he's supposed to fix your body in the most intimate ways, you can't even imagine what it would feel like when he proceeds further.

"I want you to set a pace. And a boundary. Okay? Don't just kiss me because you feel like you have to," he tells you, still massaging your knee gently, while he runs the fingers of his free hand through your hair. "Think of it as a real sexual experience, because it is. As if I was your boyfriend, doing all this with you."

You nod again, suddenly feeling shy of your actions. The sudden need you have for him. "Can I kiss you again?"

He lets you. He lets you kiss him and crawl onto his lap, to run your hands over his shoulder and tangle in the curls on the back of his neck. He allows you to touch him just as you please, discovering his body in your own way. When you hands keep roaming over his chest for too long, Patrick gently directs them to the top button of his shirt. "If you want to."

You take your time, slowly undoing the buttons on Patrick's shirt one by one, allowing for your palms to feel his skin. He's ripped muscles tight even when he sits so relaxed under you - probably the result of frequent tennis playing - and not so hairy either. All in all, he's warm and nice to touch.

Patrick notices the little falter of your breath as you stare at his body, and the gentle raise of your own chest, each and every breath passing through your mouth. The lipstick is a bit smeared from the messy intensity of your kisses and so he reaches up to wipe away the bit that remains on your chin, his touch gentle.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispers with full honesty, unable to tear his eyes off of your face. It's natural for Patrick to develop a bit of a relationship with his clients, his magic wouldn't work otherwise, but with you - such a pretty girl on his lap - he genuinely means it.

"Patrick," you sigh, lips parting as his finger slides over them.

"I want to make you feel good," he states in determination, his eyes glowing as he looks at you. "Will you let me?"

You let him. With his help, you sit with your back facing him, between his spread legs. Before your back could come to rest against his chest he stops you, and slowly slips down the straps of your dress. Shivers run down your spine at the gentle touch of his fingertips, feeling the softness of your skin. You have such a beautiful body, and he has only seen so little so far.

The top of your dress pools around your hips as he pulls you into his chest and his hands settle on your waist. There you rest, settled into the warmth of Patrick's body, eyes wide as you stare ahead, wondering if he can see your breasts over your shoulder. And you'd be really nervous if he could.

"I'm gonna touch," his whisper reaches your ear, the slow movements giving you time to reject his advances. But you don't.

Patrick's palms cup your breasts delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips, your own gaze slipping to see how good they fit in his hands. Almost as if he was made to holds them. He feels the weight in his hands before lightly squeezing, one more sound from your lips following. There, as you rest, Patrick begins gently kneading your breasts, squeezing the muscles and letting you get adjusted to the unusual intrusion.

The moment Patrick senses the ease in your posture, your shoulders slouching just barely and your head falling on his shoulder, he decides to proceed. Both of his thumbs roll over nipples, the touch so light but thoroughly felt. It makes you shudder and moan, the high pitched sound filling the room of his office.

No man has ever paid a generous amount of attention to your breasts, finding them just pretty to stare at in your low cut tops, but never enough to fondle or fully touch them. A kiss here and a violent tug on your nipple there, but that was all.

"Do you like it?" Patrick asks, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"Yes," you nod.

"Woman's nipples are as sensitive as her clitoris, at most times, but many people fail to notice that," Patrick continues talking while still teasing your nipples delicately, earning a small sigh from your pink lips. This is, honestly, better that any soft of a dirty talk. Simply being told how exactly your body works while it's being touched at the most sensitive spots. That's thousand times better. "It's crucial that they are stimulated too, as it adds to the sexual experience and makes the whole act much more enjoyable."

"I-" you attempt to speak, but all that leaves your mouth are small gasps and moans. "I haven't really... No one ever pays attention."

But Patrick is. All his focus is glued to your sensitive, pink, pretty nipples and how the feel under his fingers. By all your reactions, he's well aware that it's making you feel good, better than just good. "That's okay, sweetheart, I am. Do you know a woman can orgasm purely as a result of nipple stimulation?"

Of course you don't know that. With all the attention your breasts have ever received, you barely know how they work. "N-no."

"I want you to know. To make you feel it. Will you let me?" he's determined. He wants to make you cum, not by fucking or fingering you. But simply by playing with your beautiful breasts and whispering sweet words into your ear, have you lay and pant against his chest, too shy to actually face him. He wants you exactly the way you are, that's how your first proper orgasm should be.

"Please."

That word is like a switch turned on for Patrick, stopping him from holding back. His lips mouth your neck, trace the path down your throat while his hand keep kneading your breasts, listening to your delicate moans that follow each time he deliberately brushes his fingers over your nipples. You're a perfect little patent, but you're also much more than that. A wonderful young woman with shattered sex appeal who's begging to be put back together, to be given the lacking confidence and shown how much fun sex can really be. You're all he needs for his work and he's all you need for your life.

Perhaps a part two? :3

[creedslove]

Oh can you just imagine

Your friend start flirting with Javier, even that she knows you two are together. She just feels like she is better than you and handsome men shouldn't be with average women. "Besides, everyone knows you Javier and your reputation"

Something like this happened to me recently 😬 I wonder how Javier would react. My ex took the opportunity few weeks after 🙃💔

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: oh my god bestie, this is infuriating, Jesus Christ, I hate this "friend" of yours and certainly your ex too, you deserve so much better my love, but honestly 🔪

• your friend never seemed to approve your relationship with Javi, from the moment you two met until you went on a date, she was all the time contrary to your relationship by saying you deserved something better

• and at first you were too naive and didn't realize maybe there was a reason why behind her disapproval, that maybe she was way more interested in him than you previously thought

• he was so handsome, that was a stated fact and your friend couldn't simply understand why Javier would want you, when he could have her, as she thought herself as much better than you

• and yet, she would always criticize Javier to you, always making small comments here and there and bringing up things from his past or gossip about him

• even after you tried to talk to her and explain why you didn't appreciate that kind of thing, she said she understood and she would stop, which it did but after some time the same behavior continued

"why do you keep talking to this girl, cariño?"

• Javi often asked you, he didn't like her, he knew she didn't like him but he had enough experience with women to know she also eyed him differently, whenever you weren't around she would bat her eyes at him and try to make small talk

• when you were having a dinner party at your place and invited your friend was when things really got ugly, as you excused yourself to check dinner up in the kitchen, she took the opportunity to take a step closer to Javier and began flirting shamelessly with him

• she would laugh at anything he said or place her hand on his arm, telling him maybe they could have some fun together

• to which Javier immediately declined, feeling pissed off and pushing her away at the same time you walked in on them and couldn't believe what you were seeing

"what the fuck, why are you doing this?!"

• your so called friend simply shrugged and chuckled

"everyone knows Javier and his reputation, he doesn't settle for average like yourself"

• and Javi simply lost it, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside the apartment, he made sure to kick her out and walk to you, so he would reassure you and remind you you were gorgeous and he loved you

• you made sure to cut ties with her, never wanting to have anything to do with a person like herself, she didn't deserve you or your friendship

• you and Javi continued going strong as your love was strong and no one could break you two apart 💖

____

[scekrex]

fuck me ive been having brainrot

adam who flirts with his partner to watch their face go gold

(as a poc person he would adore it since gold looks amazing on us)

You've already read this but I had to turn that into a little something hehehehe

Gold is a divine color, luckily you're the most divine person to exist

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & sexual tension

note: beta read by @drxgonspine

Adam loved complimenting you, not only because it let you know how he thought of you, but also because the golden blush that always crept up your neck so easily until it reached your cheeks looked absolutely gorgeous on you.

When he had first figured out that the winner's blood was golden - a pure and divine color - he had thought of it as useless, unnecessary and a stupid decision made by God, because what was the point of changing somebody’s blood color anyways? But oh how that view on this changed when he met you - the most divine angel to walk heaven’s streets. He had never really put any thought into the fact that a changed blood color would also mean that the blush on the winner's skins would appear gold instead of red-pink ish.

But then he had flirted with you - at first it had been an act of getting your attention with no real meaning behind those words, he had flirted with plenty of people before. Yes, most of them had been women and yes, it was way harder for a dude - especially a dude like Adam - to hit on other men, but you? With you it felt so natural to be flirty.

“Sup Shawty,” he cockily grinned as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder lazily as if it had always meant to be that way, a slight golden blush spread on your cheeks, yet it was so light that the normal eye would have easily missed it if the person would not have been focusing on it.

Adam though, had been focusing on the beautiful blush - he had been for a while now. That was also why he knew that it was so easy to cause that blush to appear because even after years and years of being in a relationship, that was one thing that had never changed. “Shut up,” you mumbled as you turned your face away from the first man, your wing coming up to shield your side in order to block his view.

Adam was very much not having it though.

“No need to hide your handsome face, babes, I know what your ass looks like when it gets all flustered,” the stupidly cocky grin was not leaving his face for even the slightest moment, in fact it only grew as you raised your wing even more and ducked down your head to properly hide behind white feathers.

“Adam,” you hissed in an alarming tone, making it clear that he should better shut his mouth. Not that you were truly minding it, but you knew he was just teasing and you were having none of it, not when you desperately wanted your body to stop doing what it was doing giving Adam the pleasure he was seeking in seeing you blushing.

“Oh c’mon, we both know you like it,” the brunette leaned in as he effortlessly pushed your wing aside so that his lips were brushing against your ear as he continued to speak, “You’re such a handsome fucker, you should not hide behind those stupid feathers.”

The blush that had only been spreading on your cheeks at first was now slowly creeping down your neck, all the way down to the top of your chest, painting you in the most angelic color Adam was ever allowed to lay eyes onto. A golden tan was covering your skin, causing you to look pure - well, purer than you normally looked. “Fucking love it when ya get all flustered over some words,” he hummed in your ear, his voice suddenly sounding deeper than just a moment before - you were done. He had you exactly where he wanted you and he made it obvious that he would not back down, not when the golden flush looked so divine on you.

No, he wanted to keep that look on your skin for as long as possible. The fact that his words made you feel good about yourself was a nice side effect in his eyes.

You forcefully grabbed Adam by his collar, yanking him down further until he was on your eye level as you hissed, “Listen bitch, if you start something, you’ll fucking finish it, got that?” The grin on Adam’s lips remained and it was driving you insane in the best way possible. You were aware that his only goal was to watch you get flustered and blushy, but God knew he also loved to rile you up. A thing you could not deny: you were quite easy to rile up - at least for Adam because somehow that man knew exactly how to push your buttons and get you where he wants you. “Is that supposed to be a threat, hotstuff,” his lips were brushing against yours as he spoke, “Or is it an invitation?”

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: another jealous!Sihtric request, thank you, anon! :)

Warnings: 18+! smut/suggestive, jealousy, mention of alcohol.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric was your best friend, and you didn't know he was in love with you. So when he got all jealous and territorial, you didn't understand him.

wordcount: 2,4k

Masterlist

'She's with me!'

You: any plans for the weekend?

Sihtric: nope

You: wanna go see a movie?

Sihtric: yep

Sihtric was so easy going and down for anything, you loved it. The short haired Dane had been your best friend for years, since you had met him at Finan's birthday party one day. You thought he was incredibly handsome, but he was in a relationship when you first met, so you never tried anything. But you both just loved how you had many things in common. 

A few months after you had met, Sihtric's relationship ended, but you were going on dates with other men every now and then, and as Sihtric never showed you that he had any romantic feelings for you, you just left it at being friends.

But you were both very single as of late, and you often went to see a movie together in the city. After that, he'd drive you home and you'd talk for hours in his car, or on your couch, before he went home himself. And you expected tonight would be just the same.

'Pretty lady,' Sihtric whistled when you opened the door, always being a flirt.

'Shut up,' you snorted and locked the door behind you.

'What are you all dressed up for? I thought we're just seeing a movie?'

'Well, yeah. But I saw this dress as I was clearing out my closet and it had the tag still attached. I had to wear it someday,' you said, 'why? Too much?'

'No,' Sihtric smiled and bit down on his lip when you looked away, 'not at all.'

'Well that sucked,' you laughed as you walked out of the movie theatre, 'nice one, Sihtric.'

'Well I'm sorry,' he laughed as hard as you did, 'I had no idea it would be this bad.'

'It literally said from the creators of Sharknado, and you didn't even consider the fact it might be… you know, just as bad?'

'Hey, I liked Sharknado!'

'Of course you did,' you rolled your eyes, 'I need a drink after this, I swear. Let's go to the pub,' you said.

Sihtric stopped walking and looked at you.

'You serious? You want to grab a drink now?'

'Hmm… why not?' you smiled, 'we never do that actually, why?'

'I don't know,' Sihtric shrugged, 'we just don't?'

Sihtric knew very well why he never had a drink with you in the city. You were simply drop dead gorgeous, and Sihtric was head over heels in love with you. He had been ever since the day he met you, and broke up with his ex because of you, but he never dared to make his move and was content with being your friend. More or less. 

Whenever you went to the movies together, Sihtric noticed how many men, and women, eyed you up, and it angered him. He knew you would get a lot of attention if he took you to a pub now, and he also knew he would not handle it well. But now that you said you wanted to get a drink, he would take you for a drink. Anything to spend just another moment longer with you.

'Well, I'm all dressed up anyway,' you laughed, 'so why not? But you're buying because you made me sit through that horrible movie.'

'Fine,' Sihtric huffed with a smile.

And soon enough you stepped into a packed pub. Apparently the World Cup was going on, and England played against Denmark tonight.

'Shit,' you yelled over the loud drunk cheers, 'it's crowded here! And loud!'

'It's crowded and loud everywhere,' Sihtric said as he circled his arm around your waist, and leaned in to make you hear him, 'it's the weekend and they show football everywhere right now. We can go home if you want?' he tried to change your mind.

'No,' you shook your head, 'let's join this madness.' 

You laughed and took his hand, dragging him along with you into the crowded pub. 

Sihtric was going to have a rough night pretending not to be in love with you.

Sihtric handed you a drink and you noticed how he stood awfully close to you ever since you had entered the pub. Yes, it was crowded, but not that crowded. You weren't complaining though. Sihtric looked good tonight, just like any night really, with his hair recently cut and the sides shaved, showing off that sexy tattoo he had on his neck that ran up to above his ear. He was dressed in a simple shirt, showing off his toned arms, and he wore black jeans with sneakers underneath. And you accidentally matched, as you were dressed in a little black dress, showing off your legs and those new heels you recently bought.

'Do you even like football?' you yelled in his ear as he held you close.

'Not really,' Sihtric shrugged lightly to apologise, to which you smiled.

'Then I'll find someone else to cheer with!' you yelled and stepped away from him, in between the drunk football supporters.

Sihtric watched you carefully from a close distance, and he saw how you got offered one drink after another. His blood simply boiled whenever some guy pulled you in for a hug, or how they wrapped their arms around you as you all cheered when England scored a goal. 

And he had enough of it. 

Sihtric moved into the crowd, towards you, harshly shoving a few men away with his shoulder as he reached you and ended up standing next to you, his arm around your waist, pulling your side against his chest.

'Hey?' you frowned with a smile, not minding his embrace at all, but it surprised you, 'you okay?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric said as he looked around, seeing if he had to keep any other men away from you, 'you seem to be getting a lot of attention, miss. Just checking if it's not unwanted.'

'I'm fine, Sihtric,' you chuckled and looked up at him, and you noticed that something in his eyes had changed.

His eyes were always soft when he was with you. Kind and friendly, sometimes you even thought you saw a sudden spark in them when he listened to your endless rambling. But now, his mismatched eyes were dark and hard. There was a certain fire in them, and you didn't know what had lit it, or why, and you felt he held you even tighter against his chest when another man offered you a drink.

'If she wants a drink, I'll be the one to buy her,' Sihtric said sternly, not even giving you a moment to answer, and the stranger turned away from you.

'Damn,' you snorted, 'jealous much?' you grinned at the Dane.

Sihtric looked down into your eyes and clenched his jaw, but said nothing. Instead, his eyes trailed down to your lips, and something suddenly changed in the air as he had both arms around your waist now.

You noticed Sihtric leaned in, and without thinking, you did the same. But then a man bumped into you, pushing you away from Sihtric, and he spilled his beer over your bare legs and brand new shoes. Sihtric was quick to step back to you, pulling you against his chest while the man quickly apologised numerous times for drenching you with his drink.

'I am so, so sorry,' the man said, 'please, let me buy you a drink.'

'Oh,' you smiled, a little embarrassed, 'eh, sure-'

'She's with me!' Sihtric cut you off and pulled you with him towards the toilets, through the warm and loud crowd.

'Sihtric, what the hell?' you laughed, almost tripping over your heels because he walked too fast.

Sihtric closed the door to the toilets and grabbed as many paper towels as he could, while giving you a hard stare by looking at you as he looked in the mirror above the sink.

'Hey, what got into you?' you frowned at his sudden behaviour.

Sihtric said nothing, instead he kneeled down and took off one of your heels, cleaning your leg up as best as he could before he cleaned your shoe. And he repeated the same action on your other leg and shoe, until you were beer-free again.

Sihtric helped you back into your heels and you felt your cheeks heat up, as it was almost a Cinderella moment, you thought.

'Sihtric,' you said, 'say something? Why are you so… territorial?'

'Because men are looking at you,' he muttered as he threw the soaked paper towels in a bin, 'without any fucking respect.'

'What?' you scoffed, 'I- I'm sorry, but I really don't understand how that is your problem? Why do you get so worked up over that all of the sudde-'

'Because I want you!' Sihtric hissed and pinned you against the wall.

'W-what?' you breathed, his body pressed against yours as he stared down into your eyes, 'what the fuck are you talking about?'

 'I… want… you,' he said slowly, almost threatening with the way he was all up in your face.

'Sihtric… since when are you like this? Or is this what you are usually like when you go out to a pub? No wonder your ex dumped you then, fucking hell,' you scoffed.

'I broke up with her!' Sihtric almost snarled, taking your face in his hands, 'because I couldn't keep my eyes off you,' he said, breathing down your mouth.

You looked at him, speechless, you didn't understand where this was coming from. But at the same time, you couldn't deny your own feelings for him either.

'Since… since when is this...' you stammered, and you felt his hands trail down your body, to your hips. And a pleasant feeling it was when he gave you a tug, pulling your hips firmly against his body.

'It's been this way ever since we first met,' Sihtric whispered and leaned his forehead against yours.

You stared into each other's eyes, until Sihtric simply couldn't keep himself together anymore. He took your hand, pulling you out of the toilets and back into the crowded pub, out the door. . And you didn't ask any questions, you knew what was going to happen and you had been desperate for it. Just like Sihtric. 

Without a single word being said, you both got into his car and he drove you home, where you took his hand, dragging him with you towards your front door. And as soon as you had closed the door behind you, Sihtric picked you up in his arms, pushing your back up against the door as his lips finally crashed into yours, and his heated kiss made your head spin with regret that you never confessed your feelings for him earlier.

You kissed until you both ran out of breath, and took him to your bedroom, where Sihtric wasted no time in ripping off your clothes and you did the same to him. He picked you up again and threw you on your bed, and he was fast to climb on top of you. You kissed him eagerly, pulling his hair and biting his lips, which turned Sihtric into a wild beast. He growled and grabbed your wrists, sat back on his heels and pulled you up to him. You only communicated through soft moans, deep breaths and loud groans, which only intensified when you finally guided his hard length inside you. And you fucked, hard. 

Both in love while also being hurt, and angry; both upset at yourself for hiding your feelings. For having to suffer through seeing each other with other people, while all you really wanted was to be together. And you both felt you had wasted years of your life, which you now had to make up for.

Sihtric flipped you over on your back and threw your legs over his shoulder as he thrusted into you, hard and fast, holding your thighs in a bruising grip. He simply had to fuck you relentlessly now. He'd make love to you later, when you had both calmed down after everything. Sihtric just needed you to know what he was capable of, that he could handle you, that he could please you. And he simply wanted to finally hear you scream his name as well.

You moaned loud at the new position he took you in, your back arched as Sihtric kept up his pace. His teeth bared and his eyes fixated on you, enjoying the way he had you now and how you seemed to love it all the same.

'Fucking cum for me, love,' Sihtric growled out of breath as he neared his own climax.

You couldn't bring out anything that made sense, and just before you felt the overwhelming, pleasant feeling you had longed for all these years, Sihtric pulled you back up to him. And you straddled his lap, just in time to feel him finish inside you with a deep, heavy moan as his fingers tangled in your hair and his lips rested against yours. You fucked him through his high as you reached your own, and you both fell back on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms, completely out of breath. And sore.

You laid there, all sweaty and cuddled up for minutes, until you both came down from your high and your heartbeats slowed back a normal pace.

'Fuck,' you sighed, and looked up at Sihtric, who was still more or less panting, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his tongue stuck out slightly between his parted lips.

He looked down at you, exhausted, but a half smile appeared on his face along with the sound of a chuckle.

'Yeah,' he breathed, 'that sure was a fuck.'

And you both laughed, until you knew the situation had to be addressed, and you had to gather the courage to bring it up.

'Where do we go from here?' you asked after a while.

Sihtric hummed, sleepily, while he traced his rough fingertips over your bare back as you rested your chin upon his chest.

'I just want to be with you,' he whispered, 'for you to be mine. I can't stand it anymore, seeing you with someone else. And if… if you don't want to be with me, then that's okay. I can't force you, but... then I can't keep seeing you,' he sighed, 'I can't keep pretending that I'm not in love with you, that it doesn't hurt me that you're not mine. That you're not my girl. I can't be just friends anymore, I'm… I'm sorry-'

'I don't want to be just friends anymore either,' you whispered as your fingertips drew meaningless figures on his neck, 'we've been pretending for far too long already.'

'Then be mine,' Sihtric said as he slowly sat up, cupping your cheeks, 'be mine only,' he smiled sweetly and nuzzled your nose before he kissed your lips, gently this time, 'just say it, my love. You know I'm yours already.'

'And I am yours, Sihtric,' you smiled, looking up into his mismatched eyes. And you saw that spark again, which you had seen so many times before, but you only understood it now; the fire inside him only burned for you.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy

[qveerthe0ry]

Lions Ain't the Kind - Part One

Summary: Frankie hasn't dated in years, but now he knows what he's looking for. He's just not so good at asking for what he wants, and you're willing to help him work on it. Word Count: 8,156 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom! reader, talks about gender non-conformity, sickening fluff, Frankie is way too cute and sweet for his own good, kissing, making out, handjob (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), dirty talk, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader Beta: @perotovar (my angel ilysm) A/N: Sorry for talking about this for a month straight without posting it lol! The title is from the song (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis Presley which I admittedly haven't listened to but I saw the lyrics and knew immediately it was my Frankie. I hope you enjoy, and I'm always open to criticism and thoughts and thots!

Frankie hasn’t dated in years. He hasn’t really had the time, between his first child being born and navigating co-parenting with his ex, along with healing some very deep trauma and getting and staying clean. 

It just hasn’t been on his mind, if he’s honest. He’s been busy finding himself, as Pope calls it. And he’s not wrong. It’s taken a long while for him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come to terms with the things he’s done and the baggage he can now store in an overhead bin, rather than carry it around with him at all times. 

But now, he’s ready. He knows himself, and as a result, he knows what he’s looking for.

Someone kind-hearted and down to earth. Someone who’s independent and established, but not just looking for a hookup. Someone with a sweet smile and a desire for enjoying the little things in life. 

Someone like you. 

He’d swiped right and left dozens of times on men and women alike, but as soon as he saw your profile on whatever dating app he’d downloaded, he was hooked.

You were gorgeous. He felt the heat from your smile through his phone screen, so happy and genuine and sweet.

You were funny, the answers to those weird icebreaker questions full of witty remarks.

You were smart, clearly, from your shoutout to your alma matter and the ‘boring’ job you mentioned in your profile.

He honestly figured he had no chance at all. His face is only getting more wrinkly, and his hair more gray, and he’s never been the sharpest or funniest guy in the room. 

So when he swiped left and you matched, he was stunned. He was even more shocked when you messaged him before he could even think of what to say to you. 

Hi cutie 🥰 

Despite the fact that he was home alone on his couch, he had the sudden urge to look behind him, as if you’d be talking to someone else. The back of his neck got so warm, and your boldness only made him more into you. 

So he messaged you back

Hi :) how are you?

I’m surprised we matched, honestly. Pleasantly surprised 😊

Same here :) Why the surprise though? I’m sure you match with everyone

Not at all, it’s hard to find people whose type I am on here. I usually use the queer dating apps but I opened this one out of boredom. What are the chances?

What are the chances, indeed, Frankie thinks, as he gives your profile another look over. Frankie doesn’t understand how you aren’t everyone’s type. He feels a little bit like he’s talking to a celebrity, looking at your pictures and just a snippet of who you are on this reductive dating app. 

I like the odds :)

——

As your conversation continues normally over the next few days, Frankie learns a lot about you. He also learns a lot about himself. 

It’s been so long since he’s played the field, so to speak, that he’s rusty as all hell and a bit awkward. He’s afraid to flirt too much, every message deleted and re-written at the risk of sounding too cheesy or too forward or too much. 

You aren’t afraid to flirt. You send ‘good morning, handsome’ and ‘sweet dreams, pretty boy’ texts every day and night. You tell him your day would be better if you could cuddle someone, you tell him when you’re taking a relaxing bath that you wished he were there to join you. 

And to say that Frankie likes it is a massive fucking understatement. 

He adores it, he thinks about you constantly, all day long while he works without access to his phone, all evening long while he waits on your replies, all night long, when you’ve bid each other goodnight out of nothing but courtesy for each other’s sleep schedules.

You lead him along like a timid puppy on a leash, showing him new things with patience and care and it drives him insane. He wants to meet up with you so bad, or even just call you on the phone to hear your voice. He thinks about it, late at night, if it’s higher or lower in register, if it’s smooth or raspy. He wants to learn everything about you. 

That being said, he’s not sure if he’s ever met someone who’s ‘non-binary/gender-fluid’ before. He doesn’t get out much, he hardly talks to anyone who he hasn’t known for years. 

So he googles. It doesn’t really help. He understands what it means, but he doesn’t know what it means to you. He wants to ask you a million questions, but is afraid to bring up even one, and ruin the moment, or sound like an idiot. 

You’re so kind though. So he bites the bullet. 

Can I ask you a question?

Your response comes almost immediately, now that it’s evening time, both finished with dinner— his takeout vs. your leftover spaghetti. 

Of course, pretty boy ❤️

He still flushes deep when you call him that, heat spreading all throughout his face and neck and chest. 

How did you know you were non-binary/ gender-fluid? 

He frets over the text a bunch before he sends it, making sure he worded it the same way you did in your profile. His heart pounds as he waits for your response. 

I’ve always just kind of known I didn’t feel like a man or a woman. I used to think everyone felt somewhere in between, and it was just normal to not feel like I checked either box, but then I realized no one else around me felt the way I did. And then I learned all the terms and whatnot, later on, and knew that’s what I am. Just kinda in between, neither and both, sometimes one and sometimes the other. If that makes sense?

His smile splits his cheeks as he reads your in-depth response, eating up every bit of information you’re willing to give him. 

That makes perfect sense to me. Thank you for sharing :) 

It doesn’t scare you off?

Frankie scoffs, as if anything about you could scare him off. At this point, you could show up on his doorstep with a dead body in a bag, and he’d throw it in his trunk, dispose of it, and then ask if he could maybe kiss you.

Not at all. Nothing about you scares me :)

——

It’s a few more days before Frankie works up the courage to ask for your phone number. You tell him you were wondering when he was going to finally ask for it. It makes him itchy to think about you waiting for him to ask, making him be the one to do it. In a good way. In a way that kind of makes him stiffen up in his briefs if he thinks about it for too long.

But now, as he settles in from a long day at work, his grin splits his face from ear to ear as he reads your text.

Can I take you out tomorrow night?

He likes it… a lot. He feels so fucking new to all this, like a fumbling newborn calf taking its first steps, and how forward you are eases him so thoroughly.

I’d love that :)

Meet me here at 5 for dinner. Casual dress, but I’m sure you’ll be handsome in anything 😘

It’s the longest 22 hours of his life, and it’s the shortest, all at the same time. Texting you, making funny jokes like his bones aren’t about to creep right out from under his skin with all the nerves buzzing his body. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, one right after the other. When he wakes in the morning it’s like he didn’t get a wink of sleep, his anxiety drumming up a million different scenarios of how it could go right and wrong. 

Calling Santi mid-morning on a Saturday when he knows he’s spending time with his family, because if he doesn’t talk to someone about this he may just float off into the ether. 

“I’m so fucking nervous, Pope, what do I do? How do I act? Can you just stake out at the bar and feed me lines through an earpiece?”

“Pendejo, fucking— grow a pair man. You’re cute and funny, you’ve got this.”

Reading your texts with pupils shaped like hearts:

I can’t wait to see you tonight, cutie ❤️

and 

I finally settled on an outfit

and

Is it weird that I’m not even nervous? I’m just excited to finally meet you

It is weird, Frankie thinks, but doesn’t dare tell you. It’s weird how he can’t even eat the plain toast he made for lunch without feeling bile rise in the back of his throat, and you’re just excited. It’s weird how he’s never, ever felt so gone over someone, and you haven’t even met yet. 

It’s not weird, it’s sweet :) I’m excited too <3

It’s not a lie, but he’s omitting the truth a bit. He’s excited but he’s nervous, picking meticulously through his closet to find something casual but not too casual, something he likes the look of himself in, something he thinks you’ll like the look of. 

It only gets worse as he stares at google maps. The restaurant is 2.6 miles away, 11 minutes from his house. It’s 4:30, and he wants to leave already, but thinks maybe it’s better to deal with the anxiety in the comfort of his home rather than the parking lot, in case you’re there early too, and you can see how much of a fucking wreck he is. 

He watches the minutes tick up in the corner of his phone screen. At 4:36, he gets up, fusses in the mirror one last time, and leaves. 

When he parks in the lot in front of the bar & grill, you’ve already texted him. 

I’m here a little early, got all green lights. Saved us a table near the back. See you soon!

It’s 4:52. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes as he lets it out gently, counting just like his therapist taught him. And again. And one more time, and finally that anxious tingling in his fingertips is muted a bit and his heart rate is only slightly above normal. 

4:54.

He pulls the key from the ignition, gets out of the car, and makes his way to the door. 

He finds you instantly. 

You’re looking at him, and you’re smiling, and getting up from your chair as he approaches you. He barely even hears you greet him with all his blood rushing in his ears. 

“Hi, Frankie,” you say, and your arms stretch out to invite him in for a hug. 

He melts into your arms, his strained “hi” muffled in the crook of your neck. You squeeze him tight to you, and he hears you chuckle next to his ear. 

“Knew you’d be even cuter in person.”

He huffs out a laugh as you release him, and the tips of his ears burn. But you’re smiling so sweetly at him that it eases his nervous bones. 

“You look— can I call you handsome?” 

Fuck, he thinks, so fucking awkward. 

But your grin gets even wider. 

“Only if you mean it.” 

“I do,” he sighs, “like straight out of the cologne ads I’d rip out of my older sister’s magazines.”

He holds his breath as you react, the flutter of your eyelashes and the quivering of your lips and your laugh, bubbly and bright and soothing. 

And he isn’t lying, not even a little. You’re rugged but soft, romantic and alluring, and he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even as you take your seats across from each other, and the waiter comes to take your drink orders, and as your gorgeous eyes flit across the pages of the menu. He can’t stop looking, watching your mouth curve into a smile as you talk about your week and ask him about his. 

It’s pathetic, really, when the waiter asks if you’re ready to order, and you ask if he knows what he wants, because he hasn’t taken a single glance at the menu himself. He just hopes to god the dim lighting of the bar hides his flushed face and tells you to order first while he skims the menu. 

He ends up ordering exactly what you got, and floundering when your hand finds his on the tabletop. He watches your fingers trace his own from his nails to his knuckles, and flips his palm up for you to rest your hand in his. 

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” you tell him. 

His eyes flicker up from your joined hands to your smiling face, and his nerves completely melt away from the heat of your gaze. 

“Thank you for asking me,” he says.

“Would you have asked me, if I hadn’t asked you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, and there’s a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Eventually,” he nods, “I mean… probably.” 

Your eyebrows turn up in question, and he realizes how that sounds, jumping to backtrack. 

“Not like that! I just mean— You know… You’re uh… well, I feel like you’re way out of my league. And so maybe I’m a little… intimidated.”

You smile, then, and sigh, and squeeze his hand as you call him a sweet boy. It makes the room feel like it’s a hundred degrees warmer, like Frankie’s clothes are suddenly two sizes too small. 

“You aren’t so good at asking for what you want, are you?” 

He laughs then, and shakes his head. 

“Not really, no.”

“We’ll have to work on that, then.”

He clears his throat, and tugs at his collar with his free hand, breaking his gaze away from your face as you chuckle. He looks to find a waiter, or maybe an HVAC guy that could crank the AC to sub-zero temps for the remainder of the date. 

No luck. 

The rest of the date goes well. Surprisingly well. Frankie was worried that he’d be so out of practice that he’d freeze up, or say something stupid, or do something stupid, like knock over a drink or get food stuck in his teeth. 

But you’re just so easy to talk to, to click with. Of course, you’re the one who facilitates the conversation, asking him about his favorites— movies, TV shows, music, time of year. 

But he likes to think that he keeps the ball rolling well enough, is aware enough to remember to ask for some of your favorites— holiday, food, cocktails. 

By the time the check comes, he hardly realizes you’ve both had empty plates in front of you for a while, talking and laughing through your meals like you’re just catching up with an old friend. 

He protests when you grab the check, because of course he does. You’ve given him this incredible night, your comfortable company, your sweet smiles, and he feels like his offerings pale in comparison. 

“I asked you out, Francisco,” you tease him, having just learned his full name a mere 20 minutes ago. 

And he can’t really protest anymore, what with the shiver that’s tingling his spine and the goosebumps he tries to hide by gripping the chair underneath him. So he lets you pay, and thanks the waiter, and feels a rush of sadness when they come back with the check to sign. He really doesn’t want this evening to end. 

The apprehension falls second to the sensation of your hand on the small of his back, leading him out to the parking lot. 

“Where’s your car? I’ll walk you there,” you say, your thumb pressing a soothing circle into the base of his spine. 

So he walks to his truck, a little self-conscious about the out-of-dateness of it, and how he didn’t think to run it through a car wash before this. But mostly he’s just nervous about ending this date on a good note. 

“This is me,” he says, barely above a whisper, stopping at his driver’s side door. 

You smile at him when he turns to you. 

“Thanks again for coming out with me. I really did have a great time.”

This makes him smile through the unease, even as your hand drops from the small of his back. 

“I did too. Would you uh… wanna hang out again soon?”

Your face lights up, and Frankie wants to capture it in a bottle and take it home with him. Keep it at his bedside to use as a nightlight.

“Are you asking me on a date?” 

He chuckles and looks down to his feet like maybe it’ll redirect the flush in his face. You grab his hand, hanging by his side, and luckily you don’t make him speak again because he doesn’t know if he’s even able. 

“I’d love to. Really.” 

He smiles when he looks back up at you, only briefly, because you drop his hand and take a half step back. 

“Call me about it.”

“Wait!”

Your brow arches at him, because you weren’t really going anywhere, but Frankie’s mind is running a thousand miles a second. He thinks back to all the times you’ve goaded him into asking for what he wants, so far, and how it hasn’t bit him in the rear yet. 

“Can we— I… Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your smile softens, and you take that little half-step back closer to him, and he feels all the tension leak from his shoulders. 

“Yes, you can. Thank you for asking.”

He huffs, and smiles at you, and you’re reaching out to cup his jaw and grab his hip, and Frankie closes his eyes far too early, but it’s okay, because he feels your body heat and then your lips. 

He can’t hold back the hum that rumbles from deep in his chest, or the way that he goes a little boneless in your grasp. He finds your forearm and squeezes it, and your bicep too, anything to ground himself as your lips part and your tongue teases the seam of his lips. 

But then you’re pulling back, and it’s over far too quickly, and Frankie is also acutely aware of how tight his jeans feel. His face feels like it could melt right off of his skull. 

“Call me soon, Pretty Boy.”

He nods, speechless, and watches you disappear between the cars of the parking lot. On his way home, he’s already fretting over whether or not he should text you tonight, and what kind of date he should plan, and if his breath was okay when you let him kiss you. 

——

Frankie is perfect. 

You’re still not sure how you found this diamond in the rough that is Tinder. You thank every god you know the name of that you got bored and opened the app on auto-pilot that night. 

First of all, he’s so cute. He’s handsome in such a boyish way, with his dimples and unruly curls and patchy beard. 

But he’s also so kind, the way he talks to you like it’s a privilege, the way he asks careful and curious questions about you like he truly wants to know the parts of you that are deeper than what’s on the surface. 

Every simple text from him makes you smile, the way he always tries to make you laugh or cheer you up when you’re overwhelmed with the demands of life, as you often are.

And meeting him in person solidified everything you thought about him.

He seems like the textbook definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, if you ever get to call him that much. You hope you do.

In fact, it seems like it’s moving quite quickly in that direction when Frankie asks if you’d be down for a movie night. Some blockbuster he missed in theaters is finally streaming, and he thinks you’ll like it. 

You don’t tell him that you didn’t miss it in theaters, or that you thought it was just okay. 

You do tell him you’d be down to watch it, only if he came to your place, where the walls are thin and your surrounding neighbors all know you and watch out for you. Just in case he’s really good at acting  like a sweet, safe guy. 

You find yourself giddy as the weekend approaches, daydreaming at work about how the night will turn out. You tell him to come in comfy clothes, because you’ll be damned if you wear jeans in your own home, even for this sweet man. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, that’s my favorite kind of outfit :) is his cute response. 

You get everything ready the day of; your coziest blankets hang off the arms of your sofa, your fridge is stocked with fresh fruits and your pantry with candy and microwave popcorn and chips (I’ll eat whatever you get :) his answer to your questioning of his favorite movie snacks, of course.)

And then you sit around and wait, excited nerves coaxing your body to straighten things up that have been straightened up a million times already. When Frankie texts you his ETA, you park yourself on the couch by the door and stare at it until there’s a knock on it. 

You may count to ten before you get up to open it, just to hide how eager you’ve been to see him again. 

Your throat does get a little dry when you answer it to find him in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs his arms and light gray joggers that hug… Other things. 

“Hi handsome,” you smile, pushing down all the nerves and the less-than-PG thoughts. 

“Hi. I um… I brought these. I noticed you ordered them on our uh– well, at the restaurant, and I didn’t want to show up empty handed.” 

You watch a flush break out on his face, and his neck, and wonder how far under his collar it actually spreads. 

He’s holding up a six pack of your favorite beers, and he’s smiling so shyly, and you have to crowd in closer to him to press a kiss to his heated cheek. 

“That’s so thoughtful, thank you.” 

He giggles— giggles, Jesus Christ— and you take them from his hand to let him come through the door. 

You set the beers in your fridge to let them chill as he kicks off his shoes. You watch him from the kitchen as he takes in your place with his pretty brown eyes. 

“It’s really cozy in here,” he tells you as he fiddles with his own hands. 

“Snuggle up, get comfy, I’ll bring us some snacks.”

He nods, so obedient, and hovers by the couch before settling on the seat in the middle. 

Sly move, you think, and you can’t hide your stupid grin as you gather some snacks. 

When you turn off all but one lamp and deposit the junk food on the coffee table, you notice he’s inched himself closer to the arm of the couch, like he was second-guessing himself. That just won’t do, you think, as you settle in right next to him, so close that the length of your body is pressed against his. 

He doesn’t look at you, just stares at the Roku City scrolling across your flat screen. For a second you think he might be uncomfortable, but the way his breathing is uneven clues you in on his nerves. 

You reach over him to grab the blanket in the arm of the couch, and you feel his muscles tense up when you press against him. 

“Frankie?” 

“Huh? Sorry, yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head and sighs, heavy and long, before looking at you.

“I’m so nervous.”

He smiles in spite of it, lopsided, dimples so cute that your lips quiver with the urge to kiss them. 

You smile back, and drape the blanket over both of you, patting his leg through it. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, Francisco.”

It gets a laugh out of him, a huff through his nose, and his shoulders lower the tiniest bit. You slowly reach up to cradle his jaw in your palm, careful not to spook this little baby deer of a man, but his face leans into your touch. 

“If it helps, I think it’s really sweet that you’re nervous.” 

“Thank you… I think?”

You laugh at him, and watch as your reaction makes his eyes brighten. You want to kiss him. You want to smooch the absolute daylights out of him, but there’s still 3 hours of a pretentious movie to watch, and there will be plenty of time, if he’s amenable. 

So you just pinch his cheek before you let go, and try not to look so smug at the heat that consumes his face as you get the movie up and running. 

Fifteen or so minutes into the film, Frankie has relaxed into the couch, though he’s stock-still beside you with his arms glued to his own sides. You just want to cuddle, at least. You’ve been thinking about it for weeks— getting his warm, solid but soft body against your own. 

You’re certain he won’t be the one to initiate it, but that’s all fine and dandy. You rearrange yourself a bit, and sling an arm over his shoulders. He looks away from the movie towards you, and you give him a smile that must be comforting. 

He sinks lower on the couch, and leans against you, his messy curls pressed against your shoulder while his arm drapes over your lap. You think you hear his satisfied hum under the dialogue of the characters, and you let your head rest against his. 

This is nice. Frankie’s so warm against you, the most comforting weight all lax against your side. Your hand creeps up from his shoulder to his head, and his hair is so silky when you finally work up the gall to run your fingers through it.

You can feel the way it affects him when he shivers and presses even closer into you. You watch the movie like that for a while, snacks untouched, fingertips stroking his scalp as his soft curls slip through your digits. Every once in a while his head tilts to look up at you, piercing brown, and each time you smile back down and ruffle his hair.

It’s just after the first big conflict of the film when you feel Frankie shift against you. His arm moves in your lap, and you watch his thick fingers grab your thigh over the blanket. 

It shocks you how such a simple gesture makes your temperature rise. You hum and let your nails scratch more firmly against his head. You can hear him gasp, and feel him move impossibly closer, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together. You glance down at him, past the curls you’ve lost yourself in, and his eyes are closed. Further, the curve of his nose and pout of his lips, his chest that’s heaving with his excited breaths, you notice a suspicious tent in the blanket, and you don’t want to assume, but the context clues are all there. 

Frankie is hard. 

You can’t blame him. You’ve been aroused since you pressed his body against yours, a slow simmering underneath the surface that’s made you feel so comfortably warm and relaxed. 

You shift, and you swear you hear a barely-there whine leave his lips. You move just enough so you can press your free hand to his chest. Under your palm, you can feel his heart beating, a pace that’s concerningly higher than appropriate for sitting and watching dialogue in a movie. 

His head turns toward you, his hair slipping through the grasp of your knuckles. He looks up at you with those puppy eyes and his pupils are so dilated that it makes you take a deep breath. He turns his body  toward you next and there it is the hard line of his cock pressed against the outside of your thigh. You see him shudder at the friction, watch his eyes grow droopy as they flicker down to glance at your lips. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

And he asks so sweetly, voice a little hoarse from the silence, that you couldn’t dream of denying him. 

“Yes, Frankie.”

His lips tremble until they meet yours, so soft and chaste, a stark contrast to his scruffy beard and mustache. His breath hitches; you can hear it and feel it. His chest shudders under your palm and pushes air out to gust against your cheeks. You feel his prick, too, twitching against your thigh as your tongue peeks out to tease his pouty bottom lip. 

He pulls back so much quicker than you want him to, but it’s also such a reward to look at him this close. His lips shiny, his cheeks flushed, his irises completely usurped by his pupils. His mouth hangs open and you can’t help yourself as you slide your hand from his chest to his jaw and pull him into you once again. 

A surprised little noise works its way out of his throat, and his hips jerk forward, and then he’s groaning as his cock throbs against the outside of your thigh. The noise makes that feeling in your gut draw deeper, lower, and you make one of your own in response. 

His hand rests dutifully still on your thigh, but you can feel his fingers twitching as your taste buds rub against his– a friction that has no right to be as delicious as it is. You want him to feel you up, to touch you all over, to give in to the desire that’s blatantly pressed against you. You want to hear these noises he seems to be holding back, the whimpers that just barely make it past his vocal chords before he cuts them off. 

You pull away this time. Pride swells in your chest as you look at what you’ve already done to him. His curls are even messier now that you’ve run your fingers through them over and over. His eyes are all glassy when he looks at you, pouty lips slick and red. 

He sits so still, aside from his heaving breaths, like he’s waiting for your command. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie.”

His eyes widen and christ, if they get any wider they’re going to suck you in like a supermassive black hole. 

“I– I’m okay, I like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He nods, trying to convince you, as he not-so-subtly pulls his erection free from its trap between his body and your thigh. His eyes cast downward, but you swiftly grab his chin in your hands to bring them back to you. 

“Francisco,” you mumble, “ask for what you want.”

He gasps and bites his plush bottom lip, hard enough that there’s little indents when he opens his mouth. He shuts it again, and squirms against you, and finally opens it once more. 

“I want you to touch me.” 

His request comes out hardly above a whisper, all broken and breathy, and his gaze settles somewhere behind you. 

“Is that all?”

He nods quickly, eyes snapping back to you. 

“I swear– I just wanna feel your hands on me.” 

Your smile widens as his face gets so serious, eyebrows knitting together. 

“That’s good, that’s really good,” you mumble. 

The shudder that visibly rolls through him is like a shockwave, sending every one of your nerve endings on-edge. You huff, an amazed little breath at this fucking guy in front of you, so responsive and timid and utterly fuckable. 

“You like that? Like being good for me?”

He nods again, more apprehensive this time, but he can’t hold back his whine when his hips press against you. The possibilities of all the things you could do to this man stretch far and wide; it’s entirely overwhelming. 

“Sweet boy,” you whisper, because he is, “c’mere.”

You pull the blanket off of you both, and Frankie reaches down to adjust himself so it isn’t so obvious, like you haven’t felt his cock twitching against you this entire time. It’s so endearing you think you could cry, but you’re much too turned on for sentiment at the moment. Instead, you guide him to straddle you, hands on his slender hips until his thighs cage your own. 

For a moment you just watch as he sits patiently, obediently, waiting for your next words like his cock isn’t leaking a pretty little damp patch into his sweatpants. His chest heaves with every breath, and his tongue licks and bites at his swollen lips, and his eyes stay trained on your mouth in anticipation. 

“So pretty,” you whisper. 

His long eyelashes flutter at your compliment, and he turns his head to try and hide his reaction, but it doesn’t mask the way his prick twitches under gray fabric. Your hands find his waistband and tease the edge and you delight in the way he shivers. 

You need to feel more, so you press your hands under his shirt and hum at what you find. A soft tummy and smooth skin that makes way for a small trail of wiry hairs. It’s all revealed to you a moment later when you hike his shirt higher, reach for pecs that are more solid than you imagined, and the smallest nipples you think you’ve ever had your hands on. 

You look back up to his face for permission with a quirked brow, and he nods eagerly, grabbing the back of his collar to shed the material and bare himself and it’s so lovely. There’s so much tan skin, hardly any of it is obstructed by hair, just the errant freckle here or there. And you can’t help it, you have to lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth. 

He gasps your name, but one of his hands finds the back of your head to keep you in place. You hum around the little nub, so small you have trouble getting your teeth to bite down on it, but you do and then he groans, his hips jerking in your hold on them. 

“Is this how you wanted me to touch you?”

You lean your head back to look him in the eyes, to watch a pained expression flit over his face as he tries to come up with an answer he thinks you’ll like. 

“I like this too,” he nods, “but I, um… fuck–”

He cuts himself off to hide his face in his hands. He is so cute and so sexy at the same time, it’s making your brain go haywire. 

“Tell me, Frankie. Be good for me, Pretty Boy.” 

He shifts on top of you as he looks up at your ceiling. You soothe your hands up and down his flanks and wait patiently for him to find the words. 

He drops his hand from his face, fists clenching down by his sides, but he finally looks down at you and smiles, shy and sweet, just a hint of that dimple you adore rearing its head.

“Touch my cock? You got me so hard.”

You smile bright at his request, and nod, and press a kiss to his sternum. 

“Anything you want,” you mumble, “just gotta ask. Just like that.”

He looks pretty proud of himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as you look up at him, and you take a playful bite of his skin and savor the gasp it coaxes out of him. 

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” 

Your fingers sneak under his waistband and his skin is so hot under there, searing. You only have a few moments to bask in the warmth before he stands up to remove his pants and briefs in one bashful move. 

Jesus. 

He’s so gorgeous, bare for you, vulnerable, excited. His foreskin is all pulled back, revealing a delicious looking string of pre-cum from his slit. You desperately want to lean forward and taste— but he didn’t ask for that, and you won’t give it to him unless he does. 

Stunned a bit silent, you pat your lap, urging him to settle back over it. Much to your delight, he does, quick and obedient. An approving hum bubbles up out of your chest, and he preens as he sits on your thighs. 

There’s a very wicked feeling in you as you stare at him, completely naked, while you haven’t shed a single layer of clothing. Control, and trust, and power. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes your lungs feel too inflated for your rib cage, to know you could take advantage of it, and to know you never ever would. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, finally, testing those waters. 

Frankie’s dick twitches between you two, and you huff and smile and wonder how something so perfect and precious has literally landed right in your lap. 

He’s been more than good, and so with one hand you grab his hip to steady him, and the other takes his cock as gentle as ever. A sharp inhale inflates his chest as you stroke the smooth skin, a teasing, feather-light touch that makes his legs tense up in your lap. You watch him disappear and reappear through the loose circle of your hand, watch another clear droplet bead from his slit when you squeeze him tighter. 

“Does this feel good?”

He’s watching your hand work when you look back up to his face. He nods, a jerky movement that seems to shake his entire body, and he’s so on-edge. You feel it in the way he shifts his weight on top of you. 

“Words, Frankie,” you urge, a soft smile on your face. 

“So good.”

You hum, taking in the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his adam’s apple pokes out when he leans his head back. 

You reward him by speeding up your strokes. You squeeze his hip with your free hand, kneading at the soft flesh there, while you lean forward to press kisses into his virtually hairless chest. His skin is so hot it feels like it could burn you, flushed such a pretty color, just like you knew it would be. 

He whines when you gather up more pre cum with your thumb and gently massage it into his frenulum. You look up to find him staring down at you with glassy eyes, bottom lip tucked tight between his teeth. 

“Can we kiss more?”

His voice is breathy, and you nod, and a fresh wave of arousal flushed through your system when his lips eagerly meet yours. 

It’s sloppier, this time. Noisier, too, as you tighten your grip on his cock and begin to properly work your hand up and down his length. You steal his breath and his noises straight from his lungs, feel every shudder he pushes out when you twist your wrist just right or squeeze tighter. 

His hips start to meet your thrusts, rutting into your hand, such a desperate little thing on top of you, all for you. You want to encourage him to take his pleasure from you, and so you slip your hand back from his waist, find the perfectly pert globe of his ass with your palm. 

“Haa— shit.”

His words muffle into your kiss as his hips stutter in rhythm and you lean forward to smirk into the bald patch of his beard. 

“Yeah?” 

A gasp wrecks through his heaving chest as he nods. 

“Please, fuck— please.”

You hum into his jaw and squeeze his cock and his ass respectively. 

“Please what, Pretty Boy?” 

He leans back. You watch him squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head from left to right. 

“Tell me what you want, Frankie. Know you can.” 

A big gulp of air, and then he opens his eyes to look at you, then blinks them shut again as his head lolls back in his shoulders. 

“Touch me there. I— I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you take mercy on him, bringing your hand up from his backside to cradle his jaw in your palm. He tilts his head into your touch and opens his eyes.

“I got you, sweet boy,” you remind him. 

He nods in understanding, shifting to kiss the heel of your palm. You let him rest his lips there as he catches his breath, feel them quivering every other upstroke of your hand on his prick. 

But as he makes to move, you hold his jaw steady in your hand. His eyes flicker back to your face, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, if he can tell how beside yourself you really are. 

Slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, you trace the pad of your middle finger along the seam of his lips. You’re awestruck at how they instantly fall open for you, greedy, something you’re definitely looking forward to exploring more later. 

For now, you watch with hooded eyes as he takes it into his mouth, tongue curling and lapping at it. You briefly wonder if fingers are erogenous zones, beyond turned on at how warm and wet the inside of his mouth feels, how he suckles and releases, bobs his head over and over until you snap out of it. 

“Good boy. Fucking perfect,” you sigh.

He gets a cocky little goofy grin on his face at the praise, but his prick twitches against your grasp. You squeeze it for good measure, and more of his pre-cum dribbles over your knuckles. 

You lean into him again, and he leans into you, holding each other up. Your mouth finds his pebbled nipple once again as his prick drags across your shirt and saturates it. He hisses at the friction, then gasps when your hand grabs his ass cheek again. 

You pull it as best as you can with one hand. It isn’t too difficult with how it fits so perfectly round in your palm. You squeeze it, massage it, note how the littlest hint of peach fuzz feels against your clammy hand. You wonder how it would feel under your tongue, too, how it would taste, how the fatty flesh would feel between your teeth. 

His hips stutter forward when your finger, slick with his saliva, strokes the very top of his crack. And you don’t mean to tease too much, but his jerky movements and satisfied sounds when you do are like music to your ears. 

Finally you find his hole, fluttering around nothing, so little and tight, all for you. 

“Ohmygod.”

Frankie sounds pained, so much so that you look up from nuzzling his chest to watch his face. His brows are drawn tight with how his eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is hung open, slick with a little drool around the corners of his lips. Without context, maybe he would look pained, too, but the way his cock throbs and dribbles in your hand paints a completely different picture. 

And what a pretty picture he is, gulping for air above you, thrusting his hips back into your finger and forward through your fist, like he’s so out of his mind that he can’t even make it up. 

You apply more pressure to his impossibly tight pucker and sink your teeth into his skin at the way he whines for you. You do it again, and again, a patient little rhythm until it relaxes and the very tip of your finger slips into his warmth. 

He groans, clenching tight around you. 

“Okay, Frankie?”

He laughs, a little puff of air, and you feel it where you’re inside him. 

“Gonna make me come,” he chokes.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, don’t— fuck— please don’t stop.”

You hum into his chest, squeeze your hand tighter around his prick as you speed up your strokes. He’s groaning now, deep and low and constant, like he couldn’t hold it back if he tried. 

You wiggle your finger against his rim, tugging him open for you, toying with the elastic muscle. He’s so pliable everywhere, opening up to you, happily taking what you give him. 

In a stiff moment you think he isn’t into it, because he freezes up and goes silent. You make to slip out of him, but his warmth just drags you in.

And then his cock jumps in your grasp, and his hole clamps around your finger as he gasps your name, and he’s coming. 

He shakes with it as he soaks your shirt and drips over your hand. You stroke him through it and marvel at the way he feels in your grasp and around you, violent waves of pleasure that you can sense where you touch him. 

You look up to watch him tremble through it and he’s gorgeous. Sweat drips from his messy curls at his temple and paints a glimmer down his neck, all pulled taught as his head hangs back. His chest tastes salty under your tongue where it heaves, you can’t get enough of the flavor, or the wicked beating of his heart under your lips. 

And his noises, fucking delicious, wrung-out curses that just keep tumbling from his red lips. His stomach trembles with his shaky breaths, and he sounds so wrecked as the last bit of his orgasm tricked down the back of your hand. 

His whispered chants of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” slow to a stop just as his joints unlock and his muscles relax. You take it as a sign to loosen your grip on his spent cock and carefully slip your finger back out of him. It earns you one last whimper before he sags into you, a boneless little heap in your lap. 

You unhand him to hold him against you, wipe your hand on the discarded blanket beside you so you can stroke his back with one hand and his fuzzy little buttcheek with the other. 

You tell him how good he was for you, how pretty he is when he comes, how much you loved getting to do that to him. 

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, and his huffs tickle that sensitive spot on your neck just below your ear. 

“Holy shit,” he sighs. 

You nod, because he’s correct. Holy shit, indeed. 

His voice is a little hoarse, and you’re conflicted. You want to hold him as long as he’ll let you, but you know you should get him some water and at least a towel. 

You shift under him and he whimpers, wraps his arms tighter around your shoulders.

There goes that idea. 

You hold him closer, and smirk at the contented sigh that leaves him. 

“I think… I think I just imprinted on you.” 

It startles a laugh out of you, and he chuckles too, a tiny happy sound against your collar bone. You turn to kiss his heated cheek, and he lets you, before he turns his own head to fuse his lips to yours. 

This kiss is lazy, unhurried, and the adrenaline from making him fall apart is slowly making way for more of that sticky-sweet arousal from earlier. 

“I wanna make you come,” he mumbles against your lips. 

You shake your head, but kiss him some more, as to not give him the wrong idea. 

“Another night, Pretty Boy.”

He makes a disappointed sound, but continues to kiss you until you have to part for air. His brow is turned upward in question when you pull away. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his question. 

“Not a single thing, Frankie. Just wanted to take care of you tonight.” 

His shoulders relax at that, but his face is still confused. It’s a cute look on him, with his pouty lips and big brown eyes. 

“You’d tell me right? If I made you uncomfortable? You can tell me. I don’t wanna upset you.” 

And christ, you feel your heart melting and oozing through your rib cage at how earnest his voice is. 

“I promise, I’ll tell you.”

That seems to quell his nerves, as he sinks back into you again with his sweaty curls pressed against your shoulder. 

You’re sticky in more ways than one, and Frankie’s only getting heavier in your lap the sleepier he gets, but a giggle bubbles up out of you when you realize you’ve never been more comfortable than you are right now. 

Frankie huffs in response, and you press him even tighter against you. 

You don’t know where one-and-a-half dates and one sickeningly hot orgasm places the two of you. And maybe it’s greedy to think about with a handsome, sweet man in your arms, but you can’t push down the overwhelming feeling of wanting more.

next part

[theschizotypalsolilquy]

I just know that that anon is the same person who was camping under two Jikook blogs yesterday and I don't know why y'all even waste your time on them because it's clear as day that they're just a Jungkook solo who's extremely homophobic.

It's okay to think that he's not with Jimin and that he's someone who fools around and has a high body count. Anything is possible. But to double down on the fact that "JK fucks girls" is all I need to know about that person and what their agenda really is. If the point they're trying to make is that it's unlikely for a young, handsome, successful and famous man like him to be in a committed monogamous relationship, then why is their emphasis only on the fact that he's sleeping with women? He can still be sleeping with men as well, no?

I love how they use "scandals" and that recent smoking clip of him *nonchalantly* staring at a girl for three seconds as proof that he likes pussy, but conveniently ignore all the times he's shown blatant attraction towards men over the years.

I wouldn't be surprised if anon is just a JK solo imagines herself as his future Y/N and doesn't like the fact that there are so many people who believe he possibly doesn't like women, likes men and even more so, that he's been in love with one for so many years. It shatters the illusion.

Anon should give up on coming here with some mission to make Jikookers "see the light". It's futile. There have been many like them years before, they're not the first. But what's always interesting about these people is that I've never see them camping under Taekook, Yoonmin and Vmin (when it still had people who genuinely believed they were in a romantic relationship) blogs with their theories.

I've always lurked on every side of ARMY Tumblr and I never see the other shippers getting such asks; it's always Jikookers. Which is strange considering that Jikookers aren't even nearly as loud as Taekookers or Yoonminers for them to always attract people like that.

Simple answer?

Cuz they feel threatened by a 5'9 androgynous beauty who gets heart eyes 24/7 from their solo stan.

But what they forget is that before Jimin's "glow up" (cuz dude was always hot he just matured into an ethereal being and honestly good for him) JK was still obsessed. Constantly touching and squeezing his arm muscles, the almost exorcist neck turn when Jimin would flash his abs during the choreo for "No More Dream", how when the members were asked what part of Jimin they liked the best, JK doubled down and said "all of that".

He LOVES that man. And whether they think it's platonic or romantic, some people have a problem with it. And that's horrible for them because their bond is so rare. It should be celebrated. The gods decided those two should meet, they should bond, and we are better for it. Because something like that comes along so rarely, and we are privileged to witness it.

But homophobic bitches and delusional yns ruin it. They can't accept it. I guarantee you that if those two weren't half as hot and as popular as they are, they wouldn't give a fuck. It's the audacity to them. How dare a gorgeous man love another gorgeous man? He should be getting all that pussy, spreading his seed far and wide, not settling for a man. How dare he gatekeep his own hotness??

That's how they think. And it's revolting.

[pro-memoriia]

Fluffy req: Terzo is feeling insecure, so omega snuggles him and says everything amazing thing about terzos personality and body, Terzo cries happy tears definitely

TW and other stuff: Suicidal thoughts (very brief), insecurities, angst, Terzo is described as polyamorous and like both men and women, poorly translated Italian swear words 🤌🏻

Terzo shuffled into his bedroom with a sigh. He shrugged off his coat and tried to hang it up on his door, but failed. He yelled in frustration and threw it to the ground. His footsteps were heavy, more like stomps at this point as he moved across the room. He hurriedly unbuttoned his dress shirt and tossed it aside, every other garment following until he was in just his boxers.

He frowned as he stared at his figure in his mirror.

"Disgusting," he grumbled, glaring at himself. Terzo's drifted from his toes to his head, making eye contact with himself in the mirror. He

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.

"Fuck off," he replied, giving the door a sideways look.

"It's Omega."

Terzo's expression softened a little before hardening again. He sighed. "Come in."

Omega entered and shut the door behind him, looking at his partner. "You're so beautiful in purple, my love."

Terzo scoffed. He was a bitter man. Although sweet at the core, he was often passive aggressive and could be very opinionated at times. Omega didn't mind. He thought Terzo's stubbornness was plain admirable. "You're in a mood," Omega observed. "A bad one. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Terzo asked it like he was in disbelief and turned back to his reflection. "It's awful. Just plain awful."

"What?"

"Me! I'm talking about me, dammit!"

"Terzo..." Omega's expression grew stern, but he was sympathetic. He knew that despite his confident exterior and diva act, Terzo was secretly very insecure about... Well, everything.

"I can't look at myself without wanting to scream. I make myself sick. I mean, my own audacity is astonishing! The fact that I thought I could get away with it with my ‘handsome looks’ and ‘charming personality’?! Stronzate!"

Omega was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"The lady in blue," Terzo replied. He had some polyamorous tendencies a lot of the time and often flirted with whoever he pleased. One those today was a young woman in a long blue gown.

It was a fancy party his family had to attend, Terzo didn't really know the details. He just knew that the lady in blue he'd seen was drop dead gorgeous, and she didn't end up liking him.

"Cazzo, she hated me! She called me ugly. Creepy!"

"Well, she was wrong and it's her loss."

"No, mio caro, it's mine. She's right, too, which is the worst part of it all. I am an ugly old man who only ever sticks his nose where it does not belong. I am fat, wrinkly, scarred, short, aged! And to top it all off, I'm hideous on the inside as well."

Omega was quiet, standing there with a dull expression. He knew Terzo's anger would only flare if his speech was interrupted, and it would've been good for him to vent anyway.

"I am a pervert, Omega. I spend so much time talking about sex that I sound like it is my only goal in life! I strive for more, but I am not worth my goals! I am not smart or kind or bold, no. I am weak and bitter and incompetent. I spend half of my waking hours contemplating if I should put a rope around my neck or a bullet through my head."

This happened sometimes. Terzo wasn't always sensitive, or at least not in a normal way. He didn't take it all at once. Instead, he would take the rejection and hate bit by bit, until he eventually got so torn apart by it and just snapped.

Terzo was on the verge of tears now, but his voice was still clear.

"How could I be so ignorant? To think a young, beautiful, intelligent woman would want me? I am nothing! I'm a joke."

Omega took a deep breath and held it. He hated seeing his love cry. He stepped closer and grabbed Terzo's face. "Hush, my love."

Terzo looked like he was trying to stay angry, but h never could, not at his ghoul. Omega wiped away his tears and kissed him on the forehead.

"You are so blind to your own beauty," he whispered. Terzo tried to argue, but Omega shut him down immediately. "No. No, you're done talking about yourself. At least until you see what I see."

Terzo was spun around to look in the mirror again. Omega hugged him from behind and put his face near the crook of his lover's neck.

"You see fat. I see softness. Pure softness ready to be adored and loved just as much as the rest of you. Who wouldn't want more to love?"

Terzo stared at his belly and Omega continued.

"You see wrinkles. I see signs of knowledge. Fifty years that you pushed through, even with all your struggles. Fifty years of learning, of loving, of living. Age is beautiful, especially yours. It's proof of how far you've come."

Tears fell down Terzo's cheeks. He tore his face away from his reflection, only for Omega to push it back up.

"You see scars. I see signs that say you survived. All those mental health battles, incidents with ghoul's, with your family, and others... You made it out with those. Each one of those is a trophy on your skin."

Omega's voice was a quiet whisper, but full of sincerity.

"You see short, I see cute. Even if you're not in your youth anymore, you're as adorable as you were when you were a Cardinal. You see yourself as ugly, so I see you as blind. You are the most beautiful person I've ever met, Terzo. Man, woman, ghoul, human... You are my favorite. You are my one and only."

Omega turned Terzo's face to press their foreheads together.

"You're not creepy or perverted. You're just thoughtful and adoring. Loving people or wanting to feel them doesn't make you bad. And maybe you're bitter, but you're also sweet. Because despite your outer attitude, you still kiss people's hands when you meet them and call people beautiful on the daily. Just because you're tough doesn't mean you're unkind."

Terzo was trying to stop his tears, but they just kept on flooding.

"You are perfect, Terzo. Inside and out. I wouldn't change anything about you for the world."

"Oh, mio caro," Terzo whispered, his voice breaking. "You're too sweet."

Omega smiled softly and kissed him on the lips. "You're so beautiful."

Terzo laughed sadly and pulled back to wipe his tears. "I think... I think we're done for tonight, sí?"

"Maybe you are, but I'm not," Omega replied.

"Can we just lie in bed together for a while? I could use my special ghoul..."

"Use me in any way you want, my love."

Omega kissed Terzo and let him loose. Terzo went to the bed and Omega stripped and turned off the lights before following.

The two slept soundly that night, snuggled up closely. And Terzo woke up knowing that the ghoul beside him would always love, no matter what.

[cloudroots]

Ponysonas revamped: Midnight Nightowl

Pronouns: They/them

Other facts about them:

One of the first forms that Blue came up with and kept

Has made slight changes to it over the years

Form used when feeling self confident/wants to feel self confident

Spends most of their time flying around at night or just vibes in the late hours of the night

Second tallest form, first being Tape

Has a cutiemark in this form. It doesn’t really have a meaning, and was designed by themself to keep attention away from themself

Since I forgot to actually design a cutiemark before uploading this: their cutiemark has a space/ night sky aesthetic

Loves being called handsome and gorgeous

Super proud of how this turned out! Even though it was kinda of pain at the end with all the gradients, stars and freckles. Still, look at that pretty horse right there, I made that. Also turns out I can’t be stopped from making smaller illustrations to fill up the empty space, so there might even be more when I get to the other ponysonas. Which neither are actually ponies

When I originally posted I mentioned that Midnight is the most feminine of all the forms, and only dates women and nonbinary people.

I have changed my mind on that as they are meant to represent me in a way, and I have discovered that making my sonas look masculine makes me feel more comfortable. I thought that changing Midnight a little was a good idea for me, so now they are more of a pretty boy. Them being both handsome with such pretty colors makes me happy. Also they date men now too.

Link to original Midnight post

Close ups and alts:

[wolferals]

FUCK YEAH

Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: drinking, cursing, sexual innuendos

„Hey are we still waiting or are you ready to order?" The young waitress asked me for the third time in about an hour. I looked up at her and cleared my throat. „Yeah no... I'll just. Pay for the wine." I point at the still half full bottle of red wine I'd preordered for my date that was supposed to show up an hour ago.

She sent me a pityful look and spoke:"I'll be right back with your bill."

I forced myself to a smile and put my head in my hands.

He really stood me up. After all of the texting for weeks and the hour long phone calls...

I took a deep breath to prevent myself from starting to cry. Then i decided to just get my shit together and i sat up straight, took another few sips of my wine and eventually shot the rest of it down.

As the waitress came back with the bill, i simply handed her a bill far more than the actual bill and said „keep the change".

She smiled softly and carefully laid her hand on my shoulder. „I'm sorry girl, you really don't deserve this. You look amazing."

I smiled at her sweet comment and nodded back at her.

„Have a good night." I spoke as I grabbed my purse and stood up.

She smiled back and replied:"He's a dick."

I only nodded before I walked out of the restaurant.

Ashamed, sad, angry, drunk.

It was only about 8:30 now but due to the time of year, it was pitch black out and it was freezing.

My long coat was trying to keep me warm.

I continued walking for only a few steps before I heard a male voice yell behind me. I ignored it until i felt it coming closer until someone carefully touched my shoulder.

„Ugh what?" I turned around, screaming at the person. I was simply fed up by the world that second.

„Whoa sorry!"

He was handsome. Far too handsome. Tall, bright blue eyes, dark hair (i could tell from his dark beard and the few curls that were showing underneath his beanie).

„I'm sorry but you dropped this."

He held out a card.

My card.

My credit card.

„It must have fallen out of your wallet when you paid inside." He pointed at the restaurant behind us.

„Sorry, i wasn't watching you. I just saw how upset you looked and you did in fact drop this."

I smiled softly and took back my credit card. His British accent was charming.

„Thank you." I tried to sound nice after all that just happened to me that night.

He smiled at me before extending his hand to me. „I'm Henry."

I hesitated to shake his hand at first but eventually grabbed it.

„Y/n."

He smiled again. „I don't know what happened to you but if it cheers you up, my night was absolute shit too."

I couldn't help but chuckle. „Does help a little." I admitted, grinning.

„Good" he smiled. „You okay though?" He seemed to genuinely care.

I took a deep breath and looked around for a second. „Honestly? No. Got fucking stood up by a guy who I thought was genuine. But noo men fucking suck!"

He could hear my frustration.

„Im really sorry... You clearly don't deserve that. Fuck him, he must be super insecure."

Henry spoke and smiled a little bit.

„Your turn now. Why was your night shit?"

I asked curiously.

He laughed shortly.

„Got cheated on, found her in our bed in MY house with a guy I'd never seen in my life."

My jaw dropped. „Holy shit." He nodded.

„Now my night seems like a joke. Im so sorry that happened to you! In YOUR house though?"

He nodded again and then let out a chuckle.

„So yeah my plan for tonight was to get wasted and probably fall asleep on the pavement."

I laughed with him.

„Probably a bit cold in December."

He laughed loudly. His teeth and his smile were gorgeous.

We stood in silence for a few seconds before I spoke up:"Fuck it. Im drunk already. Henry? Do you wanna get drunk and hook up? I know this is super straight forward and I swear to god I've never done this in my entire life but I'm fucking upset and you're feeling just as miserable and i think ur hot and i don't even care if this story was fake or not to pick up women or to get their sympathy but it worked okay? I'm hooked because I think you're hot and we both could need it."

I stopped for a second because I saw the shocked expression on his face.

„If not, please forget it ever said that, forget about meeting me and I'll walk away and we'll pretend we've never talked and i'll go home and go to bed, you can go to some scrawny bar and get drunk and fall asleep on the sidewalk even though it's fucking freezing and you might die but thats on you and not my problem because i don't know you and i'll never see you again, especially if you're dead then, then i won't see you anymore anyways..."

I finally stopped talking after realizing how ridiculous I'd just sounded.

He simply stared at me.

„I'm sorry I-."

He interrupted me. „Y/n?"

-„Yeah?"

He looked me dead in the eye.

„Yes. Fuck yes."

[villainousshakespeare]

In Praise of Tom Hiddleston and Female Directors

As a female director (albeit of Theater and not Film) I have been feeling a little frustrated once again as awards season brings no nominations for women. This led me (as many things do, lol) to thinking about my favorite Muse, Tom Hiddleston.

One of the things that I love about TH is willingness and enthusiasm to work with female directors, and on thinking about it I realized that this allyship has also benefited him as well. Case in point:

1. His first movie, Unrelated, was directed by Joanna Hogg. Now, of course all of us see Hiddles as the perfect Beautiful Boy but imagine if this movie had been directed by a man. In that case, Oakley, the handsome younger man who charms and tempts the 40 something woman, would almost certainly be cast with some young beef cake actor, or at very least had them bulk up in order to play the role. This is who male directors seem to think we desire. Instead, Hogg casts TH and boy does she sell him. Oakley is a little shit, but the way he is lit, framed, directed makes him all but irresistible. The female gaze sees all of his ethereal beauty and shares it with us.

2. Next we have my personal favorite, Henry V in The Hollow Crown. In his big leading episode, Tom is once again directed by a woman, Thea Sharrock. Again, look at how his is shot. The female gaze follows him riding in like a hero from our collective imagination in his opening shot. He is strong and dangerous, savage even at times, without ever loosing that thread of empathy that Henry struggles to clamp down. And do I even have to mention the proposal scene? Watch that and tell me it isn’t pure wish fulfillment for the majority of people who fancy men. I liked him when I watched Loki, but Hollow Crown made me fall so deep down the rabbit hole that I may never climb out again (and honestly, I’m okay with this).

3. Lastly, we come to the role that pushed him over the edge into superstardom, The Night Manager. Can there be any doubt that this miniseries was directed by a woman? The entire show was an advertisement for how gorgeous he is. Yes, there are some lovely shots of Elizabeth Debicki in various states of undress, but Pine is the major eye candy here. See him in finely tailored suits, see him astride a motorcycle, see him bathing, both in a waterfall and in a shower covered in mud, see his much lauded English countryside looking all round and pert... it just goes on and on. It is not just the visual that Susana Biers gets either. Unlike other spies of film and television, Jonathan is emotional, chivalrous, and above all intelligent. Tom nails the role and the world loved him for it.

I am not saying that male directors do not make Tom look good (hello Conrad’s arms) or play to his strengths (see the psychological beauty of Adam). I just believe there is something to be said for the qualities that female directors can bring out. 

In short (ha, sorry, this ran on looooong, lol) Tom trusts women directors more than many of his fellow actors, and I think the results are that he shows a vulnerability in his work that helps make him more than just another action star. Women have helped make him the actor he is today, and I don’t believe the fact that his last two directors were women is an accident. He said in his interview for Leading Lady Parts that he needed to work with more directors (he had worked with five at that point I believe) and he has been as good as his word. Another reason to love this man.

* I also want to make a special shout out to stage director Josey Rourke, who has the career that I want and gave us this amazing contribution:

[gabessquishytum]

I misread one word, ONE (1) WORD, and now my head is full of anal training AU again. 😩 It's been too long, anyway.

Human AU, student!Hob, rich who-knows-what!Dream. So, Hob has a sexual awakening when he signs up to a sugar baby website (he's putting himself through college, working as a dishwasher AND at a gas station, and he is still short on money and tired all the time) and makes a mistake, accidentally signing up for daddies instead of mommies. He never took the time to think deeply about the fact that he finds men attractive as much as he does women. But when a gorgeous older man messages him and asks whether he'd be alright with regular dates so the "daddy" can make sure Hob is really studying and not blowing his money on alcohol and parties, Hob realises that he'd really like to suck this man's cock under the table of some expensive restaurant. He says yes and accepts the offer.

Dream spoils Hob. Like, absolutely spoils him. Expensive foods ("no, little one, you cannot eat ramen six times a week"), buying schoolbooks for him, pretty clothes and jewelry, and all he asks for most of the time is a date, 1-2 hours of Hob's time. Sometimes, Hob is told to get on his knees - in a toilet stall, on the floor of Dream's limousine, in Hob's own room if all his roommates are gone for the night - and he quickly learns how to suck Dream's cock in a way that makes him groan and tug at Hob's hair. But mostly, it seems like Dream just wants company.

That all changes when Dream learns that Hob is a virgin when it comes to butt stuff. After having his brain blue screen and reboot seven times in a row, Dream offers to buy Hob any car he chooses if he lets Dream fuck him and pop his proverbial cherry. Hob, who at this point is head over heels about his mysterious and charming sugar daddy, says he doesn't need a car but he'd like Dream to be his first. And as the "price" for that, he conveniently suggests they could take a short vacation at some luxurious resort. A nice rental cottage with full service where they'd be comfortable but have a lot of space to themselves. Dream readily agrees to that and books such a place for the first week after finals are over.

That's one month away. And that has to be enough time to prepare Hob to be the best anal slut that has ever walked the Earth. Of course Dream's cock is above average and Hob's slims waist speaks about how tight he'll be. So, Dream supplies Hob with silver, gem-decorated butt plugs and has him wear them to their dates or even just during the day, increasing their size day by day. Of course, Hob doesn't have to wear them to his finals, but he actually... really likes being full while taking a test. It keeps him grounded. And it reminds him that if he gets good grades, Dream will reward him handsomely.

- 🚒

I do so adore sugar baby Hob. He's the cutest little himbo, isn't he? Thank goodness he's got Dream to take care of him now.

I just love thinking about Hob getting absolutely spoiled by Dream. He's never had any luxuries but Dream takes him to designer boutiques and has clothes tailored just for him! Hob is absolutely shook by how confident and attractive he feels in clothes literally made for him. He gains a bit of healthy weight, now he's eating better and Dream has given him the use of an entire private gym. Dream takes huge pride in showing him off to all his fancy friends/colleagues.

Hob does feel like he owes Dream for all this, but... apart from that, he feels this massive affection for the guy who's just meant to be his sugar daddy. He's got a major crush on Dream at the bare minimum. He wants to please him and make him happy. He's also absolutely feral about losing his anal virginity to Dream. He's secretly hoping that if he makes it the most amazing night ever and performs to absolute perfection, maybe this can be the start of an arrangement that will go beyond sugar-dating and into real dating.

Hob is very book smart and surprisingly, training his hole fits in very well with his studying regime. He smashes his way through his exams with his tight little hole clenching around the gorgeous plug Dream lovingly wiggled into him in the morning. With his last test finished he heads straight to the bathroom and snaps a picture of his arse for Dream - with the jewel winking between his cheeks.

Hob is a little shy when he turns up for their getaway. Dream has booked a gorgeous cottage (it's so big it looks more like a mansion, but it's still cozy) with a small but private stretch of beach. But he quickly loses his inhibitions and is soon shedding his clothes and playing in the waves. Dream watches (and paddles a bit) and enjoys the excellent view of Hob’s very gorgeous arse. He's seen a lot of it lately with all the training, but that view is never going to get old.

Hob gets to have his first time bottoming in an enormous, beautiful bed surrounded by twinkling strings of lights. There may also be rose petals. Dream is a romantic at heart, and he really wants this to be special. Something that Hob will look back on and remember with true happiness.

And of course his hole is just perfect. It's been perfectly stretched to accommodate Dream’s size, but it still remains amazingly tight. Hob doesn't hold back his noises as Dream fucks deep inside and slowly jerks his cock at the same time. Its like a perfect embodiment of how Hob feels when he's with Dream: safe, content, and more well taken care of than he's ever been before. If Hob accidentally squeaks out a little "I love you" when he cums on Dream’s cock for the first time, who can blame him?

(Dream is honestly just relieved because he's organised so many romantic activities for their time away together and it might be a little bit embarrassing to declare his love for his sugar baby over champagne and caviar only to be rejected. Dream knows he can be a bit much. Luckily he's starting to work out that Hob loves it when he's too much <3)

[lokisgoodgirl]

Hidden Talents [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki decides to liven up Scott's birthday party with some saucy entertainment. And a side order of seduction. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stripper! Loki. Extreme Loki thirst. Language. Smut references. General ridiculousness. (w/c 2.2k) A/N: Prompted by this discussion. Thirsty credit goes to @wheredafandomat and @mochie85 for introducing me to the obvious song choice available HERE (Unholy - Sam Smith)

“WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” You flailed your hand to the side of your face, willing Loki to understand that your mortal ears were not up to the task.

What had possessed you to take up the invitation to one of Scott’s infamous birthday parties you would never know. It was past 2am, and somehow one drink to celebrate had turned into a heaving dance and strip club in the East District. “I said, I’d rather see you in that lingerie…” Loki purred, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell you would hear him.

He sipped his drink, observing you with hooded eyes as you shrugged and swivelled on the barstool at the stage edge. You turned your gaze back to the gorgeous dancer widening her legs athletically above you as she clutched the thick steel pole. “SHE MAKES IT LOOK EASY” you yelled, as Loki winced. He made a quieter noise with his fingers, reminding you that his senses needed no extra push. You had to admit the god of mischief looked damn fine tonight. If you were honest, the fact he would be here was the only reason you came. Your eyes flickered to Scott and the rest of the gang doing shots at the bar, thanking your lucky stars for this rare stolen moment. Even if you couldn’t hear a damn thing he said. His dark hair was tied half up in a knot, the rest falling lavishly around his shoulders. As he downed the rest of his rum and coke, you allowed yourself to feel the shiver that clasped around your clit as you clenched; watching the muscles in his arm tighten. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, turning to you with a knowing smirk. You froze as he leant closer, inhaling the rum on his breath as his hand rested on your thigh. “That’s because it is easy.” he whispered in your ear, the gravel of his voice making you think of dirty mutterings and sinful possibilities.

A nervous laugh escaped you, pushing his hand off your leg awkwardly and shaking your head. “They are trained, Loki...look at her. She’s incredible. And so sexy. I’d look like a flailing noodle.” It was Loki’s turn to laugh. You watched the corners of his eyes crinkle as he licked his lips. They drew back in a sharp intake of breath, just like they always did before he released a zinger. He leant in again, closer this time. The soft skin of his wetted lips brushed against your earlobe, making you close your eyes with unadulterated pleasure. “I wasn’t talking about being easy for you, darling.” He withdrew, watching the confused frown developing on your face with amusement. “Let’s liven this place up a little, shall we?” he murmured. “WHAT?” you yelled, forgetting his previous request. You felt like you were missing something. Not a great thing around this guy. Loki beckoned seductively to the dancer.

You watched as she gracefully dropped to her knees, crawling towards him with intrigue in her eyes at the ridiculously handsome customer. He slipped a large bill into the hook of her panties, motioning for her to come closer still. You sipped your drink, feeling sick. Never had it been more apparent that Loki saw you as nothing more than a colleague. And that was fine, you thought. I’m totally cool with that, as you watched him whisper words in her ear, making her smile.

You averted your eyes to the heaving dancefloor to your side, a catwalk in the middle hosting the line of poles from which several stunning women hung in various stages of undress.

A mix of bachelor parties, guys nights out, men in business suits sitting around with their mouths hanging open. What were you doing here? I should probably go home, you thought, your heart sinking as Loki stood. He raised his palm in a stay motion, throwing a wink as he disappeared into the crowd. The sound of Pitbull boomed around you as Scott appeared at your side, handing you another drink. You smiled as the group descended, jostling you and each other with drunken mirth. “WHERE’S MA BOY LOKES?” the birthday boy slurred, as you shrugged. Suddenly the music scratched to a lowered hum, the DJ’s low voice reverberating around the space over the bass. “We’ve got a very special guest tonight, folks. Hope there’s no paparazzi in this place because hoo-boy, this is gonna be good. Hold on to your panties, ladies and gents.” The music scratched again, changing to a song you recognised as your brow furrowed. The female dancers sat to the side of the stage, legs dangling from the edge across the laps of delighted men, clearly as confused as you were. Mummy don’t know Daddy’s getting hot At the bodyshop Doing something unholy... “What the fuck…” you murmured, as Loki strode around the corner of the stage, swaggering down the catwalk towards the central suspended pole.

He had switched to his black battle leathers, minus the cape. The gold adornments glinted in the spotlights, illuminating every tight muscle beneath the sinful fabric. Cheers erupted behind you from an incandescent band of avengers, whooping at the development as Loki cast you a smouldering look. Women had appeared from every corner of the club, clamouring to the stage edge as they recognised the sexiest being in nine realms about to do something inexplicable on stage. She’d kick you out if she ever ever knew About all the sh*t you tell me that you do Loki’s long fingers toyed with the clasp of his tunic by his neck. The edges fell apart to reveal his chiselled pecs, rolling down to that taunt stomach you had only seen in snatches. He ran his hands purposefully down his abs, thumbs toying at the edges of his tight trousers. There were screams. Dirty dirty boy You know everyone is talking on the scene The god stripped his tunic from his arms, revealing one impossibly toned limb at a time. The veins of his biceps stood out under the lights, making him glow ethereally as his lips curled to a smile.

He swung the tunic several times in a gathered fist lining with the sway of his hips, throwing it with a flourish into the crowd of baying women.

I hear them whispering about the places that you’ve been And how you don’t know how to keep your business clean In a flash, Loki’s palm gripped the pole to his side; raising himself effortlessly to swing around it in perfect control. His body was tense, the graceful power of a warrior in motion. His thick forearm braced against the steel, bringing his hips flush against the core of the pole. Your eyes widened as Loki's hips gyrated slowly against the metal, rubbing his crotch in seductively masculine waves against the unforgiving surface.

Scott gasped beside you, grasping at your hand. “IS IT WRONG THAT I’M SUPER AROUSED RIGHT NOW?” he shouted, slopping his drink at your feet. You couldn’t take your eyes off Loki, the sticky wetness that had been gathering in your panties all night in his presence heating up as new waves flooded between your thighs.

You watched as he flipped himself, one hand gripping the steel as his legs raised upward, spreading so wide you thought the leather of his trousers might split. You kind of hoped they would. He’s sat back while she’s dropping it She be poppin’ it – yeah she put it down slowly The leather wrapped around every muscle in his powerful thighs as he spun himself upwards again. The landscape of his form rippled under the pressure, making it look effortless to manipulate his form in time with the thundering bass. Oh-ee-oh-ee-oh he left his kids at Ho-ee-oh-ee-ome so he can get that. Somehow, he thrust his body upwards, grappling to the top of the pole. The crowd of women assembled hanging over the stage were losing their minds. He smiled smugly, raising his bare arm in a half-shrug of faux-innocence towards you.

You watched his broad shoulders roll back, flicking hair off his face before he fell the long distance to the floor. He stopped himself expertly, inches from the ground in the sexiest battle-esque stance you had ever seen. Every muscle in his marble arm was bulging. Mummy don’t know daddy’s getting hot At the body shop Doing something unholy For a moment you thought you had passed out until you felt Scott prodding you in the back. The cheers of the group jostling you grew louder as you looked up, seeing Loki with his hand extended. Your gaze ran around the dozens of horny women shooting daggers at you, some waving their arms manically for attention. You grabbed his wrist, succumbing to the madness. Mmm daddy, daddy if you want it drop the add’y Give me love, give me Fendi my Balenciaga daddy Loki pulled you in flush against his torso as your friends cheered again. Sam whistled, slurred cries of ‘get it girl’ soaring from a voice which sounded very much like Banner. You ran your hands down Loki’s bare chest, making him smirk. It was an impulse...you couldn’t help yourself. His hips rolled against yours, bending to create an angle that could only be described as pure sexual energy. He was really going for it. Loki’s hands balanced on your hips, making you sway in time with the music, pushing you down towards his hard thigh nestled between your legs. He raised his fingers theatrically, snapping them before pushing you gently backwards. The crowd gasped as a chair appeared just before you hit the surface. You gripped the sides. Loki’s glinting eyes narrowed for a split second, enjoying your confusion.

And when you want it, baby you know I got you covered And when you need it baby just jump under the covers He closed the distance between you, his legs straddling yours as his swaying hips made the leather crease maddeningly in front of your eyes, level with that magnificent bulge. The tempting8 lines of his V muscle were exposed, drawing your eyes to the source of your desire. So close...you could lean forward and bite him.

He drew his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back as he stared down at you like a king. You were breathing heavily, lips parted as pathetic pants escaped at the mercy of the sexual apocalypse unfolding between your thighs. Mummy don’t know Daddy’s getting hot At the bodyshop Doing something unholy...

Loki fell to his knees, landing in the exact position you had imagined mounting his cock in many times. You swallowed as he swung his hair, flexing his shoulders and biting his lip.

He reached out, ignoring the cries of the desperate women below, spreading your thighs with a wink. The crowd screamed again, but you couldn’t hear them. Loki’s stare was hungry, the intensity, pupils were blown wide with mischievous intent.

He leant backwards to the floor, the thick magnificence of his lap in full view as he lightly thrust his crotch upward, tight against the leather. A woman fainted.

Daddy’s getting hot At the bodyshop Doing something unholy... Loki’s perfectly defined back arched up from the floor, gracefully bringing himself upwards as every perfectly lined crease in his chiselled stomach rippled against the hard muscle. Those curls fell seductively across his forehead, a coy smile forming at the side of his mouth as your lips parted. Loki’s palms slid up your calves, moving to skim over the tops of your thighs, feeling every inch before squeezing tightly. Suddenly, he stood, whisking you upwards. You looked around as yells of applause thundered around the huge club, hands of the women beside the stage grasping towards his ankles as cries of ‘me next’ filled the air. Loki lowered you back to Scott and Sam who caught you. Your legs were jelly. You smiled weakly, watching Loki make an apologetic bow to the room and gesturing to the female dancers waiting patiently to begin again. They were staring at him with mooning eyes, and you had to say...tonight more than ever, you couldn’t blame them. “I need some fresh air..” you whispered to Scott, who nodded with a thumbs up. You made your way quickly to the exit, relishing the cool early morning breeze hit your heated skin. You inhaled deeply with your eyes closed, feeling ringing in your ears, trying to process what had just happened. Had Loki Laufeyson really given you a lap-dance? “Having fun?”

Your eyes shot open, hand clasped to your chest in surprise as Loki ambled towards you. He was dressed in his suit again, hands in his pockets as he smirked knowingly. “That was..amazing, actually. A man of hidden talents, I’m very impressed.” you said casually, hoping that he couldn’t smell the desperate arousal which was probably seeping into your clothes. “Mmmm. The acrobatics are nothing really. One of the benefits of being a god, one supposes” he murmured dryly, searching your face. “But your enthusiasm, pet? That is impressive.” “I-I don’t know what you-” Loki raised a finger to your lips, standing toe to toe with you in the alleyway as the muffled bass pounded inside the club. “Wouldn’t you like to continue our little performance without an audience?” he purred, watching your eyes widen. “It would be a shame to waste so much... enthusiasm.” “Are you sure?” you mumbled warily from beneath the pressure of his finger, cursing your insecurity as he fought to contain a smile, leaning towards you. His lips latched to your earlobe, sucking it with a gentle bite. “Darling, do you really think I would do something like that for just anyone?” Loki murmured, making you shiver. “It’s all for you.” he whispered darkly, his hand sliding over your hip.

“And darling...when it comes to my 'hidden talents', you've seen nothing yet. I promise you.” -

🤷‍♀️

Ps. If you liked this, you may also like my oneshot The Bachelorette Party

Tags @lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbs @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mochie85 @gigglingtigger @peaches1958 @123forgottherest @holdmytesseract @dangertoozmanykids101 @ravenwings73 @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @lokislilkitten @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @ladylovesloki @simplyholl @mischief2sarawr @anonymousfiction211 @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @trickster-maiden @wheredafandomat @animnerd @lokikissesmyforehead @moonlightreader649 @fictional-hooman @silverfire475 @kats72 @sinsandguilt @five-miles-over @handsaroundmyneck @itsybitchylittlewitchy @filthyhiddles @tbhiddlestan83 @your-taste-on-my-lips @mrsbarnes32557038 @lokiprompts @cakesandtom @ladymischief11 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @trojanaurora @xorpsbane @gracecaldwellx @nataliewalker93 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration

[jenneferofjengaberg]

I recently finished Mary & George, a limited series that portrays a fictionalized version of the story of Mary Villiers and her son George, aka The Duke of Buckingham, who rose to power in the early 17th century court of King James VI (Scotland) and I (England).

It's very good, probably one of the better historical pieces I've seen this year. Julianne Moore (Mary Villiers) and Nicholas Galitzine (George Villiers) are excellent in their roles, and it's full of a great supporting cast as well, with particular honorable mentions going to Tony Curran as King James, Laurie Davidson as Somerset, Niamh Algar as Sandie, Nicola Walker as Lady Hatton, and Mark O'Halloran as Francis Bacon.

The story basically goes like this. Mary Villiers, the widow of a minor member of the aristocracy, molded her handsome son George into becoming a lover of King James, who was well known to prefer the company of beautiful young men. (Or as the show puts it, in probably the funniest line I've ever heard, James was, "So cock-struck it's like a curse.")

The trailers for the show seemed to lean heavily on the raunch and comedy aspects, and there certainly are plenty of steamy sex scenes and irreverent laughs to be had, but there's a more serious story here as well, with themes of corrupting power taking precedence over the lighthearted.

Mary Villiers is obsessed with gaining power and favor, and more than willing to pimp out her gorgeous son to do it. And yet Julianne Moore adeptly shows Mary's side of the story, with the complicating factors of being a woman in the 17th century and therefore lacking in any traditional access to the avenues of power and wealth. "Women grow by men", as Shakespeare's Nurse famously puts it, in a play written around the time that Mary was giving birth to her son.

Moore and the script infuse the character with wit and sarcasm, even when she's being her most evil self. And yet Mary is an unreliable narrator at best. There's a scene in the final episode, where she questions George's by now outrageous behavior, and seems to sincerely claim, "You are not who I raised". But her every action thus far makes that an obvious and galling lie, and the fact that she believes this lie renders the character's level of self-awareness as practically non-existent. To the end, she seems to accept no guilt or responsibility at all for either the predictable corruption and downfall of her son or the brutal consequences suffered by her girlfriend and co-conspirator, Sandie (Niamh Algar). But Moore's performance of this unconscious amorality is both fascinating and liberating to watch.

Galitzine is also exceptional at presenting the journey of George Villiers from a vulnerable young man into quite a monstrous egomaniac. In the beginning, George seems to act mostly out of a desire to keep his mother satisfied and even, at times, a sincere affection for the King. But as time goes on, and he must scheme and plot to maintain his place as the King's favorite, he transforms into an arrogant, selfishly ambitious, and recklessly dangerous member of the royal court. It's a complicated portrayal of a character that's a little slutty, a lot scheming, but still occasionally sincere, and sometimes even struck by conscience. His best moments, such as his patience and care for his neurodivergent brother, make the audience mourn the loss of the uncorrupted young man he was, and not the petty tyrant he turns into. Galitzine also looks screen scorchingly beautiful in every scene, which doesn't at all detract from his more nuanced performances.

My one quibble with the piece is the script's characterization of King James. Actor Tony Curran is very charming as the romantic, mercurial, and "cock-struck" King, but that may be a fault rather than a feature of this depiction. James gets off rather easy, compared to everyone else. After all, he's the one who turned his personal relationships into a patronage system that basically boiled down to a sex-for-power scheme. People like Somerset, Mary Villiers and Buckingham may have exploited that system, but they didn't author it. And, although this is obviously imposing a wildly modern set of sensibilities on a historical show/events, one wonders if a man who made a habit of sleeping with much younger men who had far less power than he, should be made out to be quite so much the victim as he is in this series. Particularly the way they changed the historical circumstances of his death to fit the narrative of the pitiable gay king who just wanted to be loved but was continually let down or betrayed by his lovers.

Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy the performance overall. And his relationship with George also seemed touchingly sincere, but I also think they could have examined his role in corrupting those around him, both Somerset and Buckingham, more fully, rather than winking at it and mostly letting him off the hook.

Grade: A-

[jillsandwhichs]

Golden

cleon fic , chap 2 , expansion is abloom

masterlist

pairing: Claire Redfield & Leon Kennedy

summary: Leon picks Claire up for dinner and they discuss some things of importance

wc: 4.5k

type: SFW

a/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Over the course of the past couple day's, Leon and Claire have been speaking via email and number. For Claire, it's been hard. Trusting Leon was something she thought she could always count on. She's doesn't completely trust him now. What does he even have to hide? He's acting like he'll get assassinated if he gives her the chip. His whole "I can't tell you about it!" Stick is getting old and she just wants to get to the bottom of it.

As for Leon, he's his normal oblivious self. Maybe it's because Claire hides her feelings so well, but he thinks she's doing just dandy. Of course, he feels guilt for the fact he has yet to give her the chip; That's if he ever even does. Little does she know, it is truly for her safety, and for his, the President's, etc.. She doesn't work for the D.S.O therefore it's so surprise she doesn't fully understand. There's a chance she may never will.

For both sides, they believe they're in the right. Classic.

Although, tonight's events are much different. Claire agreed to finally go on a dinner 'date' with Leon. Ever since he sort of 'pitched' the offer the last time they seen one another, they've both been clearly thinking about it. Claire wants to do it for the food and learning more about Leon and his line of work, maybe that way she can find a hole in his words. Leon just wants to go out, and it just so happens to be with her. Claire is a sweet girl, they've known one another for some time now, so why the hell not?

It's about to enter the time of evening, Claire is spending the last remaining minutes before he arrives to pick her up just touching up on her makeup. She didn't go all out, she never does, it's beautifully bland. She's only wearing mascara, light blush and some lip tint. How come women have to be the ones to get all pretty for the men? Claire's always hated it. Her mascara causes her eyes to pop out more, her blush being a rosey color and her lip tint making the shape more prominent. She'd say she looks lovely.

And for attire, she's also keeping it classy. All she's wearing is a light, flowy beige blouse with mom jeans. It was quite the combo. Her shoes were just boot heels, ones she's never even worn. Her deep amber hair is slicked up into a ponytail, looking gorgeous per usual.

Claire has confidence in her appearance. She's never viewed herself as 'ugly', no, she believes everybody has some beauty to them. What truly makes a person ugly is what's inside - Their soul, their morality. For example, Claire thinks Leon is ugly right now! Of course, he's not actually. Claire thinks it's some sort of phase. He's truly handsome. Ever since R.C he's had this golden aura to him. He's a sweet guy just strolling down the wrong path it seems.

Leon said he plans to take her to some fancy restaurant in the city. She's nervous about it. Not only that, awkwardness will be present, most likely. It seems there's been a collision in their relationship, a dent in you will, that'll take time to reform. Claire just doesn't know how much time.

Claire was elated with the fact she'd be able to go out today. Dinner near the center of the city will be lovely. Leon's always been a city boy, her more countryside, so it's nice to switch it up every once in awhile. Although, Claire is originally from New York with her eldest brother, Chris. But once they moved to R.C before it blew up, they never even traveled back to the state. Now Claire is living here and Leon just so happens to live nearby as well.

She slipped her shoes on, tying the black laces attached to them. She definitely has to break these bad boys in, she has had yet to wear them. All she remembers is ordering them offline a few weeks ago. They're cute, but very specific attire for certain occasions. Claire also hasn't been on a 'date' in forever. She doesn't even know if this should be considered a date. It's not necessarily meant for romantic intent, but then again, is that how Leon feels too? Maybe for now she'll think of it as a friendly date.

Just so she would have the time, Claire went all throughout her house, switching off all of the lights and blowing out each candle. She doesn't want her bills to sky rocket and for her home to burn straight down. Plus, she has no clue how long they'll be out together, most likely a while.

But until Leon even arrives, which shouldn't be too long, Claire plans to just double check everything and chillax.

-

Only seconds after Claire was able to finally take a seat, the front door was being knocked on. It sounded loud, but that was due to a large lack of furniture in the house. Claire doesn't have much, she spends most of her time on missions anyways. "Coming!" Claire yelled, standing up and quickly recuperating herself. She adjusted her hair, wiped down her outfit, just making sure she looks nice.

She opened the front door, a tall and lean Leon was standing right before her. He was wearing his usual clothing, only difference is that his clothes looked a bit more expensive than usual. "Hey," He smirked at her. "You look great." Leon chuckled. Claire felt her body heat go rapidly up when he said that. It's like he can captivate any woman under his spell. "Thank you. You look nice too." Claire responded, clutching her purse closer to her.

"Why're you bringing that? Claire, I'll be paying for you, put that away." Leon stated, referencing her purse. Wow, he could be such a gentleman. It's too bad he's an ass sometimes. "Are you sure?" "Very, put it down." Claire bit her lower lip discreetly as she leisurely put the purse down onto the table pushed against the wall. She would usually set her purse, keys and other tedious items down onto it.

"Ready?" "Ready."

Leon pulled open the car door for her. Immediately, Claire could feel the cooling air releasing from the AC; Her damned AC didn't even work. It's not false to believe Leon is more wealthy than her, hell, he works for a high governmental agency. That's really all she knows.

Claire sat down, fixating herself to become more comfortable. The black leather of the cars seat felt plush & plump against her body, making her ease in easier. The music playing from the radio was quiet, but she could tell it was an ACDC song. She's well aware that her and Leon share somewhat of the same musical pallette, it's one thing they've bonded over once or twice.

He also eventually got into the car, adjusting himself just as Claire did. "Seatbelts on." He sounded like a father speaking to his children. With a small giggle, Claire pulled the strap over her chest, pressing it into it's holder. Leon began to pull out of her long driveway. Claire lives in the more subtle side of town, the woods if you will. It takes a couple seconds to fully get up to her house via off the road. She prefers the quiet life over the rowdy one.

"So, what's the restaurant you plan to take me too? You were never specific besides it being in the city." "Oh, you're right. The Pearl, that is where." He officially stated, his eyes occasionally taking looks at Claire as he drove down the street. "Never been there." "I'm a regular, I already have spots reserved for us too." Leon added on. Well, wasn't he just on top of everything? "Sounds great."

The Pearl is a very fancy, elegant and expensive. The wealthiest of the rich go there. To Claire, it isn't much of a surprise that Leon is a regular. Just the outside of the restaurant is that of high taste. Usually, she just orders takeout or goes to an outlet restaurant. The ones downtown are to die for, but none of them are expensive. They have that homey, cozy look to them and always taste so good, even for being on the cheaper side. As for the Pearl, it is smack dab in the city, lights are flashing all around it too. It gives of Casino vibes but nope, just a place you can eat at.

Claire twisted her head to gaze outside of the car window. On said window, there were marks and faded finger prints. It was foggy out - Rather gloomy. The night was still young though, and will remain that way for quite a bit. In the city, the night is even more lively than the day usually is. Claire won't be very surprised if there are tons of people roaming the center of town, and if there are a good chunk of customers at the restaurant.

"Are you comfortable? Too cold? Want some music?" "Uh, no thank you, Leon, I am fine." Claire reassured him. She was fine. Plain Jane just that. She wasn't happy. Maybe the night ahead will change that for her. She'll demand a real answer from Leon tonight; She yearns for one. Leon can't keep the reasoning behind not giving her the chip forever. If it was up to her, she would have interrogated him way sooner. But alas, I'll just have to do it for dinner, in a positive manner though, no need to cause a dispute.

"Just so I know before we get there, is there any chance you'll be drinking tonight? Like wine or champagne?" "I don't plan to." Claire replied, her voice low and soft as ever. "That's right, you never really drink, so you?" "Rarely, depends on the occasion." "Why not this occasion?" "Because..." Claire gave no reasoning; Leon was left curious and full with his thoughts.

His hand reached down to the volume, turning it up a little bit. Claire didn't recognize the song that was now playing, but she liked the tune of it. It had a nice calming, soothing feel to it. It was one of those songs you could fall asleep too with some earbuds in. Claire simply rested her head against the leather seat, her hands in her lap and her eyes focused on the outside world as they passed it by quickly through his car.

-

Eventually, Leon pulled into the parking lot and parked his car diagonally, letting out a sough when he did. His dark and torched eyes took a glance at Claire, his lips curling slightly. "Let's head on in." He grunted, opening up his side door, Claire doing the exact same. The immediate night breeze hit Claire like an anvil, causing the loose strands of hair sticking out from her ponytail to blow against her face. Leon made way towards her, making sure to help her across the street.

Claire was right though, the streets are packed full of people. At this time, in this part of the city, everyone was here, even children who probably have school tomorrow. In the center of the square, there is a large water fountain, coins dazzling at the bottom of it, one to many have made a wish. And on the outskirts, there are tons upon tons of stores and cafés for people to visit.

This was definitely the most busiest part of town.

Two men standing outside of the restaurant opened up both pullable doors for Leon and Claire, allowing the couple to enter inside of the restaurant. Claire soon got the smell of delicious food roaming up into her nostrils; She could practically taste the food herself. Right beside where they both stood, a hostess took Leon's jacket for him, hanging it up onto a clothing rack for him to retrieve later.

"Table for two, under Kennedy." Leon mumbled to the worker, his hands in his pockets. Claire just kept to herself, standing a foot or two away from Leon, having her arms crossed against her front. The hostess gave Leon a nod and pointed at a fine table over in the corner of the restaurant, near one of the larger windows that had a classy chandelier right above it, it's light casting down onto it. It was a nice little area.

The two of them took a seat, their eyes catching ganders of one another whilst doing so. Claire sat on the other side of the wall whereas Leon was against it. This is good. And only a few seconds after they took their seats, a new hostess came by and handed them two menus. "Take all the time you need." Was all she said before treading off to her next table. "They're rarely that quick." Leon chuckled, picking up his menu. "I think I already know what I'll be getting so please, take your time and look at what you want, Claire." He said with his regular deep tone.

Of course he already knows what he wants.

"Okay." Claire whispered, taking the menu in hand and begining to scan it. Everything on the menu was so pricy, just as she suspected. She honestly felt bad even ordering anything but then again, Leon did chose to take her here. "Wow, there is so much to choose from." Claire chuckled, biting her inner cheek. Leon's eyes fixated on her, watching her face as she took in all of what's on the menu. "Yeah... Pick whatever you'd like though, okay? Nothing on the menu is restricted." He assured her kindly. Claire liked that about him.

There was a lot to choose from. There was Alfredo, Steak, Shrimp dishes and even meals that were from all around the world and cultural.

Ultimately though, Claire decided on mushroom ravioli with sauteed green beans on the side. It wasn't very expensive and actually looked yummy.

"You sure that's what you want?" "Yes, I am." Claire nodded, setting her menu on top of Leon's. "What do you want to drink? Water? Soda?" "I'll probably just have water." "Me too then." Leon replied with a smile, looking back down. Claire was correct about her senses earlier, this did feel a little off - Awkward even. Claire's never felt awkward around Leon so this is completely new to her. If only he would've give up the fucking chip.

"Leon..." Claire began, "You need to tell me why exactly I can't have the chip..." "Claire." Leon groaned. "Why can't we just have a nice dinner? No need to ruin it." "Ruin it?" Claire spat out, causing some other people to look over her way. An embarrassed look washed over her but Leon quickly diverted her attention. "Okay, wrong use of the word. What I mean is, I just want to have a pleasant time with you without worrying about the chip." "I feel differently." "Elaborate." Leon hummed out to her, sliding back in the black chair.

"Leon, I don't like the fact you're hiding something from me, I mean, don't you trust me?" Claire pleaded out, upset she's made the entire situation more awkward than it was before. "Claire, you know I trust you, c'mon now." Leon laughed softly, "It's just... There's more than meets the eye and I don't know how well you'd handle the info." "Greatly." "It's easier said than done." He finally stated, his voice a bit more demanding now. Claire knew she should back down before an even bigger scene is caused.

Why can't he just be honest with her?

A waiter came over with a digital pad in his hands, ready to take their orders.

"Firstly, what can I get to drink for the two of you?" "Just two sparkling waters." Leon said friendly to the worker. "Got it... And have you guys decided on your meals?" "We have. The beef wellington meal and the creamy mushroom ravioli meal, please." Leon handed both menus to the man, in which he took gracefully. "Okay, great choices, should have those out shortly." The worker commented, giving the couple a smile before ambling off wards.

Claire rolled her eyes, just wanting to be home now. Her nerves were making her feel as if she was going to puke at any given moment. "I'm sorry Claire. There's just not much I can do for you." "It's whatever Leon, I give up." Claire heaved out, her eyes staring outside of the large window, the massive city being flashed directly outside of it. People walking, billboards shining, performers performing... It was all so lively and in a way, it lifted her spirits.

"Hey, I promised you I'll eventually release some information, I'm not standing you up on that. But seriously Claire, you cannot push this. It takes time." "I know... Guess I just show more sympathy than most, hm?" "I actually agree with you on that, you're a wonderful, kind and selfless girl. I admire your efforts but there truly isn't much else I can do yet, okay?" Oh how convincing and sweet he sounded when saying that. Claire does get it but that doesn't mean she's not going to be upset with him.

"Alright fine, fine." Claire tossed her hands up in defeat playfully. "I trust you'll hold up your end of the 'deal'." She responded. "Thank you, you're a smart girl." Leon teased. She really is though.

The waiter came back with two glasses full of sparkling water. He set both glasses down, one in front of Leon and one in front of Claire. "Thanks." Claire gave the worker a slight nod, the worker getting her one back before treading off. "Never had sparkling water before..." She picked up the glass, sniffing it before drinking some of it. Surprisingly, it didn't taste all that different, it has a sweet tang to it. "You like it?" "It's not bad." Claire responded, setting it back down again.

"Our food should be here soon, is there anything you wanna do afterwards?" "What do you mean?" "Y'know, take a talk, head down to the dock or I can just take you home... Whatever you want." "We'll see." Claire shook her head whilst giggling. "Good." He uttered out, leaning up more now. "Any plans for the upcoming weekend?" "Visit Chris and clean my house," Claire snickered, "You?" "Similar. Definitely clean up a bit but I also plan to get a new gym membership, the one near the mall is closing down." "Sucks to hear, but at least there are like thirty in the city." Claire let out a breathless laugh, along with Leon. "You aren't wrong there."

"I usually just work out at home, in the backyard." "Get in touch with your chakra?" Claire laughed at his remark, 'chakra', sure. "You're funny Leon." "So I've been told." He shrugged whilst raising his eyebrows in a cocky, egotistical way, but he was clearly just joking around with her. "I do Yoga too though, guess I am a little spiritual." She played along. "You gonna get some tarot cards next? Spread sage around the house?" "I actually do the sage thing already, so hah." Claire puckered her lips cutely. "Course you do." Leon huffed out.

Eventually, whilst the two were speaking, a waiter, a new one, came back with their dishes. Claire was enthralled with the fact they have so many employees working all at once. Despite the restaurant being so fancy, it wasn't as big as you'd think. Same size as an Olive Garden and a half. "Thank you, Sir." Leon said kindly, making sure their orders were both right. "No problem, enjoy." He walked off, going to the table behind them.

Claire took a look at her meal, a spout of water forming as a pool in her mouth. It smelt amazing. Steam was still tracing into the air and off of the food, it was straight up fresh. "Looks so great." Claire complimented the works of whomever made her food. The Ravioli looks wonderful and she can tell, despite there only being four, bigger sized raviolis, that she'll be full; There is even a basil leaf on the top of the centered one.

The sauteed green beans look delicious too. Just by the smell, she could tell they were cooked in garlic, which to her, smells exquisite. She was also happy they didn't give her the chunky, long beans and rather the smaller, wrinkly ones; They always have more flavor to them.

Claire took a glance at Leons food and it looked tasty as well. She recalled he did order the beef wellington meal.

"Both look good." Leon voiced lowly, taking his fork and digging right in, Claire doing the same; She is immensely hungry.

The first bite was so heavenly. It felt like the meat was just melting in her mouth. The mushroom taste also wasn't very strong, it was just a tint and it was perfect. She also took a quick nibble of a string of green bean, the flavors all bursting in her mouth. "Wow, better than anything I've had in awhile." Claire nodded, clearly chipper with her order. Growing up, Claire was a simple gal - A burger with fries. That was always her order. Chris always teased her about it. Then again, Chris always orders Pizza so he should shut up!

"How's your food, Leon?" "Amazing, as always. I see you're enjoying yours." "Very much." She giggled, taking yet another bite and washing it down with the cool water. Claire was enjoying this night moreso than she was earlier. She's upset with Leon, sure, but as long as he keeps his promise and eventually releases some helpful information, that'll do it for her. "Do you really promise?" "What?" "Do you really promise that you'll eventually release some info?" "I swear on my life." Leon spoke softly to her, but differently than usual. His tone was so serious but in a gentle way.

She's putting complete faith in Leon. He'll go through with it. She just knows it.

"We can change the subject for good now, but we can discuss it another day." "Agreed." Leon nodded, taking another bite from his plate. Claire didn't really know what to talk about though, a tinge of uncomfortablity still within her. "After I go home tonight, what do you plan to do?" "Workout a little, then sleep, I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow." "Oh, what's happening tomorrow?" Claire wondered aloud. "I have to investigate somewhere out East, shouldn't be gone too long." "I see... Well, I wish you the best of luck." "Thanks Claire." Leon shot her a grin.

He once again seemed quite vague with his answers, she didn't really know what to think of it honestly. "Do you know what you'll be doing specifically?" "Not really, just that I'm being sent out East and that I have to meet with some people for further instructions. Graham said he'll give me more intel soon." "Well, that's good for you." Claire cooed to him, eating more of her food. She was really enjoying the food itself. It was delicious. Great descion on Leon's end to take her here.

Claire leaned back in her chair, setting her hand over her stomach and letting out a cute noise - Like a groan. Leon looked up at her from his plate and let out a chortle, "You gettin full?" "Little bit." Claire giggled, sitting back up and hastely taking another bite of her beans. "You eat slower, therefore you'll get fuller easier." "That a fact?" "It is." Leon stated softly, sipping his beverage. "Guess I never knew that... The more you know!" Claire chuckled. "Does this place allow you to take your unfinished meals home?" "They sure do... Just let me finish up mine, then we'll play it by ear, sure?" "Sure Leon." Claire nodded swiftly, allowing him to continue dining.

She was quite full. The dinner was excellent, tasted better than any dish she's had in some time. She'll definitely have to come here again, maybe when taxes come in. While she does live alone and only has herself to support, she still doesn't really have the money like Leon does. Maybe he's just smarter with his cash though. He has mentioned before how much he tends to save money rather than spend it. Claire supposes that smarter to do but for her, it's easier said than done.

It was hard to peel her eyes away from Leon. He didn't even notice her admiring him. He looks handsome while he's just doing the most normal things. Claire was boy crazed in College, sure, but as she got older, she controlled it so much better. She doesn't tend to think of men the way she thinks of Leon - Loyal, Noble, Kind and Caring. All of the above. Most men to her are belittling and selfish... It's rare to find good ones it seems. Leon is just one of a kind, she hates how their relationship has been lately.

Once Leon finished his food, he stacked the plates along with their empty glasses, pushing them to the side to make the waitresses jobs easier. He was also able to obtain a takeout box for Claire, which she was evidently grateful for. He also carried it out for her, such a kind man.

The two of them reached his car, but Claire stopped in her tracks, watching Leon as he hadn't even took notice of her sudden halt. He set her food in the car, expecting her to be right beside him, but she was a few feet away. "What's wrong?" Leon said softly, instantly going up to her. Claire looked down at her feet, her boot heels were in contrast of his black dress shoes. "I just feel bad for how I've been the past week." She began. "I've been mean to you, just nasty, you know that's not how I am Leon, I just want to help people." She whispered with tranquility.

She felt his smooth hands, both of them, cup her thin face, tilting her upwards to look at him. "Hey, you've done nothing wrong." He reassured her. "I know where you've been coming from and you've had absolutely every right to act out, okay Claire?" Leon then wrapped his arms around her neck, her face nestling against his chest. Claire hooked her lanky yet built arms around his torso, embracing him lovingly. Yeah, she seriously needed this.

She could feel herself wanting to break, the blueness overcoming her. Being held by Leon was a feeling she's never got to feel outside of it being to say goodbye and even then, it maybe lasted no more than three seconds. She could feel his hefty hand stroking her hair, his chin on top of her head as well. His comforting touch was just so meaningful to her. Feeling him against her was one of the best feelings she's had in so long. It's like he's a cure.

"I'll do better." "You're okay." Leon hummed, then pulling away.

Claire blew out, scratching the top of her head. "You okay?" "I'm fine now, thank you Leon." "Anything for you, Red." Leon uncupped her face, slowing walking backwards. "How about I take you home now? You need to rest up." "That would be great." Claire cackled, making her way to the passenger side door.