#i feel like it probably was a cocktail of that his desperate need to be loved and the way he goes from 0 to 100 in relationships

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[goldsbitch]

Our wedding

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

A dream wedding.

Distant palazzo, with acres of private lands to roam around at night. Lavish dress, designed to fit perfectly and re-done three times. Coordinators, who made sure everyone who needed to be invited actually was. And also took care about almost anything one can imagine.

A perfect wedding, that's what they both wanted. Go big or go home. Combining romance, with generously giving everyone they loved, or deemed important, the time of their life. To say that this event was supposed to be extra would be an understatement.

Lando said yes to all of Y/N's wished regarding flower arrangements, menu items and rooming lists. She said yes to all of this ideas about the music, sound systems set up in each part of the venue (because heaven would turn upside down if there had been one quiet spot with no music, according to Lando) and drinks choices. They could not agree on the photographer - so Lando just booked his, and hers option as well. Saving money was not on the table. He knew that the amount of good PR and brand deals the Quadrant team managed to get together was going to pay out in the long run. Everyone loves a wedding.

That's where the first issues started - the amount of people invited grew into higher hundreds. She voiced her point few times, but Lando quickly shut those off with a promise to book a private charter for all friends and family who were coming from her homeland. She caved in and agreed to just few more CEO's she'd never met, as long as they did not share their table.

It was the final two months before the wedding and things could not be more hectic. They had to plan the wedding around Lando's race schedule, so summer break between races it was. Y/N had to juggle her job with all of this planning, so she attended less races than she usually would. Most of the calls she shared with Lando were wedding related and it seemed like his best friend Max took it upon himself to speak on behalf of Lando - so sometimes it felt like she was marrying Max rather than her fiancé. After a total break down she had few days ago, which resulted in her crying on the phone to Lando at 4 am his local time, they agreed she absolutely had to come over to the next race so that they could find some down time.

//

Having to endure a tiring overnight flight, she finally stepped into the hotel where Lando was staying at. Exhausted, jet-lagged and generally in a bad mood were the main ingredients in the perfect cocktail of "you should just avoid me" Y/N. She finally opened the door to his room and let out a groan. Traveling to see him used to be her favorite thing. A bombastic cherry on top was that she immediately recognized Max's voice coming from the living room. Was this guy staying in the same room as them now?

"Y/N, is that you?" she heard, desperately hoping he hadn't heard her enter in. She felt like a bitch for wishing that, but he was the last person she wanted to see at that point. Her hopes of jumping in the bed and cuddling Lando the first thing coming here dissolved like cotton candy, leaving tooth aches behind.

"Yes, Max, it's me," she said, not even bothering adjusting her tone to something more socially appropriate.

"Great, just on time. Can you come in here? We have some decisions that are becoming pressing matters," he said dryly and added his own frustrated comment quietly "...since someone does not feel like answering emails." She heard that, bit her lip and swallowed all her comments, otherwise she would explode.

"What's up?" she asked, entering the living space. There were dozens of baseball caps and buckets hats laid down on the coffee table with Max and some random young guy towering over them.

"We need you to pick out one of these which you'll be wearing after the reception. I have a great brand deal on the table which I need to close today. So, go ahead - pick one." She could not believe the words coming out of Max's mouth. Was he for real?

"May I ask when did I agree to wearing a baseball cap with my dress right after my wedding?"

Max glanced at her and then rolled his eyes. "Can you just pick one? Lando is on board with this, he'll be wearing this green one," he pointed to objectively very nice stylish item of clothing - but still, it was a bucket hat. Rage levels shot up in Y/N blood steam.

"Max, I'm suppose to be wearing my wedding dress until the evening, that's also in some deal you guys made," she proclaimed, hoping this would finally make him get some sense. "The dress is very classical, I don't think this would fit the vibe."

"Oh, come, we agreed to sticking to the Quadrant Athletes color palette and all of these check that. We want to break the classical vibe up with this."

"I'm sorry, who exactly is we in this scenario? And who the fuck are you?!" she pointed at the guy standing next to Max.

"I'm...I'm the product placement controller," he said in a shy voice.

Her eyes just went wide at that point.

"Y/N, no need to freak out again, you need to create a viral moment to make the brand grow," Max said, as if he was talking about a new merch launch.

And that was the final straw. "I'm getting sick of you guys making my wedding into a Quadrant PR stunt. You need to realize this is my wedding, not yours! The whole event is already dripping with brand deals and promotions, is there nothing out of line to you? Will my mom also have to wear one of these hats? Will force the officiant to wear sneakers? Where will you stop?"

Max stared at her, his own cup finally also full. But unlike her, he spoke calmly - again, giving strong business vibes. "Oh, I'm sorry - I'm sorry I am pulling heaven and Earth to make sure your wedding does not ruin your future husband! I apologize that I seem to be more stressed about this wedding than you are. Sorry for caring and trying to uphold some standard."

"Max, this is all too much! I feel like I'm suffocating," she tried to reason with him once more.

He just had enough at that point. So many little moments of mutual disagreement finally grew on him.

"Yeah, well maybe you're just not suited for this world."

Before she could even take a breath to respond, a familiar voice cut them both off.

"Guys, that's enough I'd say," Lando said as he slowly stepped out the same corridor Y/N had entered moments ago. Both Max and Y/N turned around, knowing they'd have spoken way differently had they known he was there as well.

Max gulped, knowing he stepped over a line and immediately started to apologize. "Mate, I'm sorry, we just sort of lost it. I'm sorry."

Lando glanced at him, his face suddenly hard to read for both his friend and his fiancée. He quickly flashed Y/N a look, seeing the obvious distress finally on his own, in a way the camera on a phone just does not capture. It pained him to see them two fighting, but it pained him more to see her on the verge of crying.

She couldn't find words to apologize to Max. In fact she could barely even see him, as Lando took all of her attention.

"Can you guys leave us for now? I think we need to talk alone," Lando said in a tone so serious that Max hardly remembered last time he'd heard it.

"Yeah, mate. Of course," he said shyly, gesturing to his companion to quickly exit with him.

Once the door finally clicked, Y/N felt like she could get out of her frozen state.

"My god. Lando, I knew it would be a challenge these few months, but I did not expect to grow so far away from you," she said, as the words flew out of her mouth without her being able to control it.

He was more careful with his words, but brave nevertheless. "It's true. I don't think we've even been so distant."

Him acknowledging it just made it real and hurt more.

"Right. At least we have that in common."

There was an awkward silence, something these two hadn't experienced in months.

"Why is Max involved so much?" she asked, hoping that she would not hear anything that would make her biggest fear come true - Lando's lack of desire to marry her.

He took a moment to get his point in the right order. "He's my best friend. This is our wedding. I can't stop focusing on racing, but I want it to be perfect. I'd say not giving him any credit sometimes."

Of course, he was defending him. She wondered if he defended her in front of Max sometimes.

All card on the table. She gulped before uttering the next sentence. "I'm scared that I don't want to go to my own wedding anymore. I feel like an unwanted guest."

They shared a look full of hidden pain. It was impossible to tell, but Lando was scared as never before. "What are you saying...Do you want to call it of??"

She looked back at him, praying that he would understand. "God no, that's the last thing I want to do," she sighed and put her head in her hands. How did it got to a place where he could even assume that? "Marrying you, the love of my life, is my dream. In fact, I'd just like to jump to the moment where I can finally say yes to you."

The air still felt really heavy. "Then let's do just that."

"What do you mean?"

Lando took few steps closer to her, missing her close proximity for the past few weeks. He desperately needed to fix them. "Let's book a wedding for next week in Monaco, just you me and any other people required by the law."

The idea of that seemed silly at first. But the more she thought about it, the more she craved that idea. "So, you want to call the actual wedding off?"

Lando chuckled at the image of them cancelling that at last minute and all the hustle that would bring. "No, silly, not unless you really want to. But who says we can't have a fake ceremony there, celebrate with everyone, while already being married at that point? We don't need to tell anyone, keep the magic for them. We can have two weddings."

It was her time to laugh now. "So because we find organizing one wedding hard, we're going to be doing two now?"

"We are anything but conventional. And if this is news for you then, well...That would mean I'm marrying the queen of delulu. Twice."

The weight of the past weeks was lifted.

"Does this mean I can say "No." at the big wedding?" she teased him, closing the distance between them and holding his hand.

"Not if I'll say "No." first," he winked and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm not wearing a bucket hat. Just stating that now."

"Oh come, at least one of our weddings," he said as he ruffled her hair. "Wow, I think you need a post airport shower, my love."

"Do not try and change the topic - no bucket hats!" she mumbles as she tried to fix her hair.

"Fine, I'll just get you drunk. You'll wear a bucket hat at one of our weddings one way or another."

It felt so good to just banter with him, like they always did before they got caught up in all the stress. A shot of guilt went through her system, as she flashed back at the whole process so far.

"I should probably apologize to Max," she uttered, avoiding his eye contact once again.

He finally hugged her. "Yeah probably. But...let him rot in his feelings for a moment. I hate when someone makes you upset. Apart from me, of course."

"What makes me upset right now is the alarming amount clothes you're wearing."

"That's my girl!"

//

They got legally married the following weekend, Lando bribing anyone he could in order for them to skip few spots that were unavailable. The first wedding was secret and full of inappropriate, but honest kisses. The second one was fake, but they slayed it together, as newly married couple. Without the stress of actually getting married, they really enjoyed their wedding. The little secret stayed with them - and Max of course, because he just had to get involved with everything.

[brimleysbears]

(Featured media: Burl Ives and Rock Hudson - from The Spiral Road, 1962)

"Fan" fiction erotica - "Hollywood Confessions: My Date With Big Daddy"

Post 4 of 4

Epilogue:

A Horny Old Bull

To conclude, I was in fact on the pill, after all, it was 1963; therefore no, I didn’t begat a cute little chubby Ives child, although sometimes I wish I had. Although that man could be a bit of a creep at times, like most men I suppose, I’ll never forget that night with Big Daddy. In fact, as much as it was embarrassing, there were other reasons why I kept that story to myself after all these years. I admit, that was the most fun I’ve ever had with a man. Sometimes I question whether I was head over heels in love with that big old brute.

As much as I wanted to see him again, I found out soon afterwards that he had actually scheduled all of those men to see him that night with the intention of not telling me, while planning on having sex with me, in order for the meetings to coincide with his coitus. I never found out exactly why he did that, and if it was his intention to use me or not. I was angry for a season and never wanted to see him again after that, but looking back, I regret not seeing him more times. I would have liked to get all of his seed in me and looked at him face to face the entire time that he had his climax. I would have liked to try other things with him, and maybe even be his mistress when he was working in Hollywood. The more I learned about what probably did happen, was that he was proud to seduce a young dancer like myself, and although I don’t like to be someone’s ‘bragging rights’, in a way I felt honored. One of the older ladies at the Manhattan cocktail party said, “sounds to me like he was just trying to get those businessmen off his back and find ways to taunt them.”

As I spoke to my girlfriends late that night, finishing my story, one of the women remarked that, perhaps that lonely old man being away from home needed a special companion, and not another ‘high-profile figure’ like himself? As we talked, one of the more educated ‘uptown’ ladies said, “if you ask me, like a lot of men in show business those days, he was desperate to try to prove that he was a heterosexual; in a similar way they constantly had to deliver proof they were not some kind of communist as well. After all, Mr. Ives worked closely with a lot of queers like Tennessee Williams and was even filmed naked along side a half-naked raging fag, Rock Hudson, just a year or so before your ‘encounter’. Although I might say there’s probably a little pink in his blanket, Big Daddy sounds like a man who was not ‘light on his feet’, in fact, quite heavy handed like your story implied, which I found to be most intriguing. I think you’ve not only made a believer out of all of us in the room, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of us are going to start chasing after men like Sebastian Cabot – you’ve certainly piqued my curiosity about a kind of man I would have not previously considered and for that, I am indeed charmed.”

But it was another lady who might have had the best explanation: “did you ever consider the fact that although Big Daddy was a bit of a sex symbol in the 50’s, that Burl Ives in the 60’s was starting to get typecast too much in children’s and family shows to the point where the public was referring to him as asexual? If I were him, I’d want to prove to my collogues that I was a fully functioning sexual person with sexual needs and abilities. After a while, no matter what he said, chances are, his peers didn’t believe him until he found a way to show proof that he had a thriving sex life.” Maybe they were all correct. Maybe he was just another creep. Maybe he was someone really special. I do cherish those memories, and I still keep his private calling card with me in my purse all these years.

The End.

Copyright 2024 BrimleysBears

Feel free to share posts, however please copy only with permission, thanks, BB

Part 1

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743973229412106240/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743962348439666688/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 3

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743868840199536640/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 4

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743867190420307968/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

[manicpixiefelix]

at the other end of the leash

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

@vannyangelxoxo asked: can you write Felix beating someone’s ass for reader? Summary: You convince Felix to go with you to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in one of the last weeks of Summer before you begin your first year at Oxford University. While out on the town during the Festival, Felix finds himself enchanted with one of the performers, an avant-guarde acrobat named Magnus. The perfect night quickly goes south, however, as Felix discovers someone trying to take advantage of you, and he immediately steps in. Of course.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Set at the end of Summer before Felix and Reader start their first year of university at Oxford. Established Bi Felix.

Warnings: heavy themes; reader is slipped a roofie at a club and a stranger attempts to take them home, and it's heavily implied that he plans to assault them. felix gets there in time, which leads to the second warning of VIOLENCE. felix beats that motherfucker to a bloody mess. it doesn't get super gorey/explicit but there is a lot of blood. also there is discussions of nudity, non explicit sex, and recreational drug use in the club.

A/N: 6053 words. well, would you look at that. another request that got outrageously out of hand. this is also a personal homage to Edinbugh Fringe Festival, my beloved, my home for 6 weeks of the year. id also like to state that it's a wonderful place to be; the roofie plot is 100% fictionalised. the rest of it is a pastiche of real things that i have actually experienced. i cannot stress enough the raw animal attraction of a man named magnus who can and will flirt with anyone and everyone while getting drinks after his shows, who performs several times a week with his dick out, wearing eyeliner, heavily tattooed, who smokes and has pretty eyes. that's all i have to say about that.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

"Come on Fi, it's the last weeks of Summer before we start uni," you'd been rather desperately imploring, as if Felix had ever known how to refuse you when you actually wanted something, "you know Monty Python started there before they were even Monty Python," you told him knowingly, which was certainly interesting, though not particularly relevant. Finally you sighed, splaying yourself out over the sofa you'd been sitting, looking up at him from as he entered the room. Now you were spread out foolishly, childishly, looking up at him with imploring eyes, "Fi we've spent a month lazing around the house and I know your parents have no other events planned before we go back, except for the party on the second last night; we'll be back before then, I promise! I want to spend time watching strange show, meeting people I'd never imagine, and drinking cocktails named after famous poets from rustic bars!"

It had been your suggestion to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a few days, and despite the exhaustingly long train ride and the hotel prices that would probably cripple anyone less well off than you - Felix had agreed. Of course he'd agreed; you sounded so hopeful.

Which is how you'd found yourself in an underground club on a Friday night, dancefloor packed with more bodies than sense, and a twenty minute line for drinks. Tonight he'd been feeling especially bold, forgoing a jacket altogether, spending time in the mirror with you before heading out to see the show you'd chosen for the evening - a compelling one-man show about being gay in Australia, in a less compelling, cramped venue. So now here he was, in one of his more fetching dark, silk, button-down t-shirts, eyeliner on his waterline, mascara even though he claimed to not need it, a touch of glitter by his temples, and his favourite brown lipstick that he'd agonised over.

Not long after you'd come out, you'd tried wearing eyeliner with the male, private school uniform - I can- I should be allowed to do whatever I want, right? - and the minute after Felix had gotten out of suspension for smacking a kid who called you a slur, he went out and bought his own eyeliner. His collection had only grown from there. It really was a shame that people seemed to think it was reserved for femininity. Well, as it turned out, people who weren't part of things like Fringe Festivals.

Felix fit right in tonight.

It's a little thrilling; these people, in neon underwear and wigs and makeup that would forever outshine his own efforts, they look at him differently. Drugs passed around him - oh darling, would you like some? But once he'd ask what they were and the kind soul goes to check, they're pulled away by some other shiny thing to focus on. Always too close, tits out with nipple pasties being sweated off, he's sure he saw someone's dick out on the dance floor, the most beautiful, feminine, sculpted faces on the hairiest male bodies sporting only a gold speedo. Confusing and foreign and everyone smiling at him.

Felix wasn't quite sure where you'd gotten too, especially not since he'd found himself caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a stocky punk with a face tattoo and carefully loose hair pulled back into a low bun. Nose piercings and ears with stretched holes that Felix could see all the way through, black silicone bordering the void almost like it was intended to match the black makeup around his eyes, though it looks worn, half sweated through. Still, Felix can't help but be enchanted by the way it made his blue eyes peak so brightly through. Felix didn't think he had much of a type when it came to guys, but he'd always found something very charming about dark hair and blue, mischievous eyes.

"Magnus," he'd introduced himself as with much confidence and yelling over the music, and when Felix introduced himself, asked if he was here for the festival, Magnus smiles wider. Felix thinks very distinctly of biting. "Actually here blowing off steam after a show," a performer then, "part of an avant guarde acrobatics troupe," a very flexible performer.

"How... long have you been doing that?"

"About three years now," Magnus squints into the distance as he tried to recall, "since I was nineteen."

"Oh," Felix brightens up, adding without thinking, "I'm nineteen." And immediately hangs his head with embarrassment. Thankfully, instead of calling him a kid - despite only being twenty-two; everyone in their twenties seemed to like calling him a baby, even if they'd turned twenty yesterday - and laughs.

"Oh thank god," he claps Felix on the shoulder, "because I was definitely going to ask."

"It's a pub," Felix points out, as if no-one underage has ever snuck into a pub ever. Magnus gives him a sidelong smile.

"With no security in sight, mate," he snorted. Felix had noticed that drugs were being passed around like candy, but he hadn't really considered it beyond that. Magnus, however, points to a couple that have been grinding on each other on a bar stool several feet away, "he's been fucking her like that for the past fifteen minutes." Felix's brows shot up.

"Really?!" He gasped; Magnus grinned like the Cheshire cat, mentioning in a far too offhand way that they were also friends of his, "should we move?"

"It's the furthest you're going to be from some kind of sex act unless you want to go outside," he gave a loud, pleased sigh at the environment, seeming entirely at home. Felix is struck with the immediate and vivid image of Magnus in his beautiful leather jacket pressing him up against this very wall, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Felix's pants; the freedom of everyone seeing and nobody caring and -

"What's avant guarde about it-" Felix clears his throat awkwardly, "the acrobatics, I mean, if I may ask?" Felix tries to remain polite while he knows he's blushing all over. All he hopes is that this man beside him that he's just met can't tell how loudly he's thinking holy shit have I met someone who could throw me around the room with ease? Is that something I want? He's never really thought about it before -

"You ever seen three people stand on each other's shoulders all at once in the full monty?" As if that's a real question Felix is supposed to have a real answer to, but Magnus stood just a little taller, just a little prouder, "I'm the lad at the bottom, holding us all secure, cock out for the world to see." What a fucking mental image.

Magnus also informs Felix that the tattoo on his face, the delicate dagger, has its match somewhere else on his body. It's with a staggering amount of confidence that immediately flusters Felix that Magnus tells him he can either buy a ticket to the show, or buy him a drink if he'd like to see it. He's pretty sure he's never been so directly and effectively hit on before in his entire life. Yes, counting the trips you, he, Farleigh, and Venetia took to France that Summer in high school.

Standing in line, thinking about beautiful, punk, acrobat Magnus and what Felix can only assume is his tattooed cock, it takes him a long while to realise that he's nearing the bar and has been staring at some guy's drinks for a full minute. Something colourful and fizzing, something with vodka he's pretty sure. It takes another moment to register something falling into one of the drinks from between the man's fingers as he goes to take them away -

"Hey!" It could have been an accident, it could have been nothing, but Felix wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it wasn't, "dude, hey!" He tries to snatch at the guy's denim jacket, but he slips into the crowd. Trying to jam himself up to the bar, despite everyone else's annoyance, he tries to tell the bartender, but the man's already disappeared too far.

Vaguely distressed, but mostly dejected, he steps back to his place, and waiting another few long moments for his turn at the bar. Even as his gaze roams the crowd for the potential bastard, he can't seem to see him. But he looses track of his thoughts on the matter when he gets back to Magnus, leaning against the wall with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and those gorgeous blue eyes drinking in Felix as he approaches.

"Was almost worried I'd lost you there," he slings an arm around Felix's waist, drawing him in close, accepting the drink with a grin, and all Felix can think about is how warm he is, how he smells sweet and like rich herbs and smoke. He asks what Felix does, and Felix tries his very best not to sound as young as he suddenly feels -

"Remains to be seen," he leans into speak into Magnus's ear, musting the confidence he knows he usually has in spades, wrapping his own arm around Magnus's shoulders, "about to start at Oxford in a few days -"

"Oxford!" Felix isn't sure if Magnus is teasing him or not. He's also not sure that he minds, he kind of wants the man to keep looking at him- keep smiling at him like that.

He's so enraptured by the company he's found for himself that it almost startles him when you come stumbling out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, beaming and sweating, holding a half-finished drink.

"Fi, there you are- oh my, hi, hello!" You're already giving Magnus a million watt smile, clearly quite drunk. Felix catches you with his free hand, having finished his own drink not too long ago.

"Hello, sweetheart," Magnus greets you warmly, but with an unmistakable hint of reservation, gaze momentarily flicking between yourself and Felix, trying to reassess the situation in the blink of an eye. You don't seem to notice that, however, simply standing a little taller, subtly preening at the pet name.

"Y/N is my best mate," Felix leans in close to Magnus to explain, voice fond in his ear, "the reason I'm here at all." And there's that smile again, all warm and amused and Magnus' eyes shining in a way that makes Felix want to let him do terrible, unspeakable things to him.

"Lucky for us both then, that you have such a darling friend."

Performers are a different fucking breed of people, Felix can't help but think to himself, even as Magnus turns - arm never leaving it's place around Felix - to properly introduce himself to you. He thinks it again watching Magnus charm you just as easily, even if he wasn't trying to outright hit on you the way he had been with Felix.

"I was just- I was just-" you stumble over your words, taking another sip of your drink - something colourful and fizzing, vodka something, you'd said with an offhand frown, a lovely guy I've been dancing with bought it for me - while you take Magnus' offered free hand to steady yourself, "I was thinking of heading back to the hotel pretty shortly, I'm a bit -" you make a vague hand gesture. Before you can even finish the sentiment, however, the next song begins and you light up. Finishing your drink, you grab Felix's free hand with your own, tugging them both towards the dance floor, begging them for one dance.

"How could I say no to a face like that?" Magnus teases, letting himself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Felix adding with a fond smile.

"Trust me, I wouldn't know."

Glad for the company, you gleefully let loose amongst the crush of bodies, and there's something both endearing, and endlessly attractive, about how happy Magnus seems to match your energy. The three of you jumping around to The Sex Pistols, Magnus shouting along with all of the lyrics and seemingly impressed that you and Felix at the very least seem to know some of them.

After the song, however, you seem to slip back into the crowd on the dancefloor, as if once more transfixed by the lights and movement and heat of the night. Magnus, however, leans in and asks if Felix smokes.

Outside it's far easier to breathe. It's cooler too. Still, Magnus pulls off his leather jacket, ties it around his hips, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt. Felix has known in a roundabout way that he wasn't straight for quite some time, but damn did reminders like this not feel like being hit by a truck. Covered in tattoos and with the kind of arms and shoulders the Greeks could model statues of gods from, Felix knows he's staring but quite literally does not know how to stop.

Except then Magnus is pulling out an actual, metal cigarette deck, offering it to Felix for him to take one, and Felix is pretty sure this is the coolest person he's ever met in his life.

"I love these," Magnus takes Felix's hand in his free one, clicking the cigarette deck closed and sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, "these are cute," he's looking at the silly, little collection of stars tattooed on his hand. They look like nothing compared to the ink all over Magnus, but he seems genuine in his interest.

"Surprise gift for my sister," Felix hears himself say, cigarette between his lips as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter.

"For your sister?"

"Well it was a surprise to me too," Felix chuckles at the memory, "Y/N and I organised for me and Venetia to get matching tattoos of her choice for her birthday."

"You... didn't know?" Magnus snorts, dropping Felix's hand to take the half-cigarette out from behind his ear, holding it out for Felix to light.

"Well I'm not opposed, I've got a couple of tattoos - nothing like yours," he grins, and Magnus's gaze meets his, flashing with that same amusement and attraction as in the club that had so captivated Felix in the first place, "but I'm kind of surprised that that's what Y/N gifted her?"

"Did your sister not like it?"

"No, that's the thing, I've actually never seen Ven react like that to a gift before," Felix muses; smiling at the memory, "of course she was a menace about it at first; I was worried she'd been given too much power," he snorted, tipping his head to look at Magnus, only to see those blue eyes gazing back, as if hanging on Felix's every word, "do you know how close I came to having a tramp stamp?"

"As if you wouldn't look fantastic with a tramp stamp," Magnus snorted.

However before the story can even be finished, the door to the club opens and both turn at the sound of your voice.

"No, I need some water first -" you sound very wrong. The person beside you, a man who looks vaguely familiar, though Felix is sure it's not his face, is setting almost too brisk of a pace.

"Come on, there's water back at my place, remember?"

"I need to go back to the hotel," you tried to insist, "and water- 'm gonna throw up in the taxi."

"You'll be fine, I promise, I've got you." The man's hailing at taxi, while you're swaying on your feet, looking even more out of it than you had when they'd last seen you.

Felix is moving on instinct, without hesitation, without even thinking.

"The fuck are you doing?" His voice raises, and the man turns right as a taxi is pulling up, looking at Felix with blatant irritation, not appearing to be intimidated in the slightest.

"Back off man, my friend isn't feeling well-" the bastard lies through his teeth, even as you of course recognise Felix, and take his arm, mumbling that you felt sick, "see?" He actually tries to pry you away from Felix, "I'm taking care of them, no need to worry -" but Felix puts his hand on yours, secure. Just as well, since you start to list and lean and lose your balance.

"Fi," you mutter weakly, pitifully, "help."

And that's when Felix realises what he recognises about the man; the jacket that slipped through his fingers at the bar. The man he'd seen dose your drink, as it turned out.

Felix has never seen red in his life the way he has in this moment.

Fury simmers white-hot just beneath his skin, though he keeps himself calm and collected as he gently walks you over to the wall of the club, easing you into a sitting position. All the while the bastard that was with you is berating him, saying you just needed to get somewhere to lie down. Magnus, however, seems to understand what's happening, and sits himself down beside you at the wall, quietly asking one of the many onlooker to go inside and grab some water for you.

"Fine, sit 'em on the filthy fucking pavement in the middle of the city instead of letting them lie down in a bed to sleep it off; you feel good? You feel like a hero for not letting me take my friend home -?"

There is an audible crack when Felix's fist makes impact with the bastard's nose. He knows once his adrenaline wears off it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but it's worth it. More blood splatters across them both than Felix was anticipating from his wonky uppercut, but he doesn't care. The man half recovers, unsteady, but he gets a hit on Felix's cheeks with a fist full of rings, but he seems almost disorientated. Felix goes for the throat this time, satisfaction being the sound of the man choking on his gurgle of pain.

Felix isn't quite sure what it was that sent the bastard crashing to the ground, but he does know that he's tearing through that man's coat pockets like a feral beast before he finds the bottle of pills like the one he saw fall into your drink.

It's like the entire world stops for this one second.

His knuckles ache, covered in blood that isn't his own, clutching the same roofies that were now coursing through your blood, making you weak and vulnerable and prey to bastards like this. His head spins, fury spitting in his veins, blood singing to tear this man apart. There were on lookers, a gasping crowd, but for some reason no bouncer in sight, no-one stopping this.

And you, sitting against the wall of the pub, tucked up against Magnus who had a protective arm around you and was looking at the man beneath you with something cold in his eyes. His other hand was balancing a glass of water on his leg next to you, for you, but you didn't move, just looked at your hands, helpless. Magnus's cold gaze slides to meet Felix's, and there's something approving in his eyes. He gives the faintest nod.

Felix kind of blacks out after that.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into a taxi rather frantically, hearing Magnus shout - well get him on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood before the ambulance arrives. You're already in, leaning against the window seat, gazing vacantly out of it. Felix gently touches your shoulder once the door shuts behind him- fuck that seems like a lot of blood? When did that happen? You make a vague hum of acknowledgement, so Felix shuffles over to the middle seat and coaxes you to rest against him.

"Fi?"

"Of course," he cradles you against him.

"Fi," your voice is weak, he can hear you beginning to sniffle. Your words come out awkwardly, slurred terribly, "feels wrong, c'nt.. m've."

"I know, I'm sorry," Felix feels the tears in his own eyes, "you'll be okay, I'm here, you'll be okay." He can't believe he let this happen. The front door opens, and Magnus's voice greets the driver.

"Sorry about the state of them in the back -"

"'s Friday, laddie," the terribly aged, terribly Scottish taxi driver says blithely, "where shall I be takin' yas?"

Magnus looks over the back to you both, expression concerned, but genuine, and asks for the address of your hotel. Felix takes a moment to compose himself, but finally gives it, and the drive commences in silence.

It seems only natural for Magnus to also get out once you've all arrived, easily sliding into step with Felix as they both wrapped one of your arms around their shoulders and helped get you back through the hotel and up to your room.

"Thank you, Magnus," Felix says softly as he fishes the key from his pocket, "I'm so sorry about how the night turned out." Magnus actually laughed at that, and Felix opened the door.

"Felix, if the context weren't so dramatically, disgustingly awful, this would be the most fun night I've had all Fringe." And you all shuffle inside, Felix guiding you all towards the bedroom to lay you down, "nice room by the way," Magnus looks around as he passes through, "who's cock did you have to suck to afford it in the middle of the Fringe?"

"I..." Felix hesitates, "don't know if that's a first meeting kind of question."

"Well played, Oxford boy," Magnus says, but there's no malice behind the nickname, "I have my theories, though." Part of Felix is glad Magnus is there, to help lighten the load, lighten the mood, even a little.

They lay you gently on the bed, and Felix is just glad that you seemed to finally have fully passed out. He can't begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside your head. Then it's just the two of them. And the built in wardrobe across the room with it's floor to ceiling mirror.

And all that blood on Felix.

"I look the fucking American Psycho," it's fucking horrific! What did he do? Magnus, sitting on the end of the bed with one knee crossed over the other gives an amused smile.

"You actually kind of do."

"It's not good!" Felix approaches the mirror like he's in a damn horror movie, scrubbing at his cheeks with little success, but with a surprising amount of sharp pain, "the fuck did I do? Is this all his?" Magnus, in the mirror, is looking at him curiously, "Magnus, seriously, the fuck did I do?"

"You were fucking beautiful, Felix," Magnus says, sounding almost awed. Felix stopped; there was nothing flirty, nothing about it that wasn't genuine. Wait holy shit, Felix realises, are these fucking butterflies in his chest? Now of all times?

Then, in the next moment, Magnus blinks, clearing his throat loudly, like he hadn't meant to say that. For the first time all night he looks genuinely flustered, dropping his gaze.

"You hospitalised a fucking rapist, is what you did," he said matter-of-factly with a nod - he'd nodded before, it's the last thing Felix really remembers - "proved your point to everyone there finding those fucking pills; that was a good move. I mean, I had to explain what the fuck was happening to our little audience while I was dragging you off him - didn't think you wanted to kill him."

"Thanks," Felix says weakly. Then, softly, looking down at his shaking hands, "should I go to the police?"

"For doing a public service?" Magnus snorts, shaking his head, "no, there's at least a dozen girls who will attest to him acting threatening, and to Y/N's behaviour - who was thankfully taken away by an actual kind friend - and that he admitted in a fit of rage to spiking the drinks. He'll be the one in jail if anything." It's so... easy. So nonchalant.

When Felix asks, confusion, disbelief, innocence in his voice, Magnus just smiles like the easiest thing in the world, and says he's an actor, it's his job.

"You don't have to be doing all of this," Felix covers the room in a few short steps, knowing he'll never have the words to thank this stranger for all he's done tonight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be telling this story for the rest of my life," Magnus grins brightly, and his eyes shine just like that had hours ago, before everything went to hell. He leans in conspiratorially, "you broke his fucking ribs."

"I think I broke more than his ribs," Felix says with a tentatively proud smile. Magnus nodded in absolute agreement. Then, after a moment.

"Have a shower, Felix," he said, "I'm going to go downstairs to the petrol station, see what they have there, and be back in a bit; is it okay with you if I crash on the sofa -?"

"You don't have to do all this, seriously, it's late, please go home," Felix implores, taking Magnus's face in his hands. Magnus, however, looks at him like he's a fool.

"I'm going to make sure you're both okay," he pets Felix's hand on his cheek, smiling so sincerely, "and besides, if I'm down getting stuff, that way you can have a shower and know I'm not using that time to be a creep towards Y/N while you're busy."

After a moment of deliberation, Felix pulls Magnus in to press several kisses to his forehead, calling him an absolute Godsend, while Magnus laughs to hide how flustered it makes him.

The shower is where the adrenaline really starts to wear off and the ache of the fight sets into his muscles and bones. The mirror mists over and the droplets still cling where he wipes his hand over. His knuckles are bruised, as is his face, scratches and split lip and gashes where the rings had punctures his cheek. The makeup and eyeliner that he didn't think to properly remove before his shower probably makes it look a little worse than it is.

There's scratches on his throat, his collar, shallower on his chest where the bastard had tried to get him through his shirt while he was trapped beneath Felix on the ground. Scratches up his arms as the man fought a losing battle.

He takes one of the makeup wipes from the pack and cleans up his face as best he can as the first step. It helps, but not by a lot. Back in the bedroom, once he's dry, he searches his suitcase for pyjamas, getting himself dressed.

In there, there is a long few moments where he watches you sleep, watches the steady rise and fall of your breathing and sees the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Fi, help."

God, he's tearing up at the memory. He should have stopped that cunt at the bar when he'd had the chance, when he first saw it happen. Never in his life has he heard you sound genuinely weak until tonight; his hands shake.

Before he gets you cleaned up, however, he feels like he needs to check... Magnus really didn't have to come back. Yeah, sure, he said he would, but if he got tired, if he needed to call it a night, Felix would not blame him in the slightest. He really was surprisingly lovely, and part of Felix would probably regret not getting his number, but it was understandable -

Magnus is sitting cross-legged in the hall, across from his door, eating a slice of white bread from a grocery bag by his side. In his other hand, he's texting.

"Give us a second, just letting the troupe know I'm fine."

Felix blinks at him. Felix waits. Magnus's thumb works the digits of the Nokia he's focusing on, before he must hit send, satisfied. Then, tucking the phone back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he looks up, eyes still that same, bright blue. He looks genuinely pleased to see Felix. Felix, for his part, is genuinely pleased to see him too. Surprised as well, if he was being honest, but pleased.

"You look much better," Magnus comments, and pushes himself to his feet. Bag looped in his arm, Felix sees it's a few basic supplies, bread, maybe some spread, something he can't identify, and something bright red. He offers to pay; Magnus tries to shrug it off, but Felix finally gives a self deprecating smile, gesturing around to the rather luxury hotel room they were in. Magnus gives himself a moment to take it all in again, and finally sighs, smiles, gives in.

He does, however, insist on making them both food.

Grilled cheese; all he could find on short notice since it was getting to the early hours of the morning. Felix watches for a few long moments, the way Magnus moves around the kitchenette with practiced ease, like a man used to these spaces, to life on the road. Felix finds he enjoys just watching Magnus; perhaps this is how people have often felt about him. Magnus doesn't watch him, he feels rather free.

"Do you want to take off your makeup," Felix pipes up just as Magnus reaches for the stove. Magnus freezes, "if you're staying, and being so kind as to make me food, the least I can offer is for you to make yourself comfortable."

"Should have suspected you'd be a good host," Magnus grins over his shoulder, and gently puts the pan down, leaving the stove off for the time being. So Felix directs him to the bathroom and tells him to take all the time he needs, and himself heads to the bedroom. Fishing his wallet from the jeans he'd discarded for the night, he pulls out two fifty pound notes. It's far more than the contents of the grocery bag, but Felix definitely doesn't care. It's so little for how kind he's been.

Opening the bedroom door, however, and he almost runs into Magnus, startling the both of them. Even with the remnants of his makeup still clinging around his eyes, the faintest traces of stubborn eyeliner and mascara, he looks fresh-faced and beautiful. Startled, both by the abruptness, and the fact that he might be even more taken with this man without his makeup on, all Felix can do is hold out the money. Magnus seems to thaw first, chuckles, shakes his head, and calls Felix incredibly generous. Unsurprisingly, Felix insists that it's not generous, it's simply fair compensation for his kindness.

After a moment, Magnus peers around Felix, asking how you were. Felix finally relaxes, assures him that for now you're fine. Magnus's expression is understanding, but still very knowing, as his gaze flicks between Felix and you.

"You take care of them, I'll take care of food," he insists gently. Before Felix can even ask how Magnus knew what that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Magnus pats his chest fondly, "you beat a man half to death for them, I assume you want them to sleep in comfort."

Yeah. Fair. Good assessment of the night, and of Felix.

So Felix smiles, thanks him, and trusts him in the kitchen.

Felix treats you with such reverence in these moments, wiping off your makeup with such care, changing you into your pyjamas while he made sure there were no bruises, no scratches, no sign of this bastard anywhere on you. But no, thankfully not. He could have killed that bastard. Sounds like he almost did.

You frown in your sleep. Felix's heart hurts. But there's nothing more to be done for now.

Magnus is humming softly in the kitchen, a gentle sound amid the comforting sizzle of butter in a pan. Felix watches from the doorway for a long moment, the gentle, neutral expression, the focus on the food, the way he's retied his hair to catch all the hair that had so casually been hanging around his face back at the bar. There's something else different about him, however, and it's not the lack of leather jacket or makeup, it's something Felix can't put his finger on for a good few moments.

"Did you get shorter?"

Magnus stops humming. His gaze slides to Felix out of the corner of his eyes, expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the ground, and Felix follows; Magnus is wearing Christmas socks on the cold tiles. After a beat, Felix puts two and two together, and Magnus gives a vaguely sheepish laugh the minute he stalks around the kitchen island to the door. There's a pair of gigantic, black boots sitting primly by the door.

The absurdity of this, on top of everything else, finally has Felix laughing, collapsing against the kitchen island, face in his hands, as Magnus cackles quietly by the stove.

"What even is this night?" Felix groans through his fingers.

"One to remember," Magnus responds sagely as he served the first of the grilled cheeses onto a waiting plate, "the good parts, at least, and the good in the bad," immediately he puts another blob of butter in the pan, "and when you look back, you won't see the rage or the fear," he puts the second set of bread and cheese in the pan before picking up the plate with the first, finished dish, "you'll simply recall the love that inspired it all."

"You're so wise," Felix sighs fingers curling down so he could rest his chin on his fists, glad for the man he'd met by chance just a few hours before, "how'd you get so wise doing backflips in your birthday suit, Magnus?" He can feel himself growing tired, finally, as a yawn hits him, "is that something I should try?" Magnus laughs once again, putting the plate of food in front of Felix. He settles across from him, mirroring with his chin on his hand over the kitchen island.

"I take chances on people who intrigue me."

Somehow this terrible night has come full circle; you're comfortable and safe, there's nothing to worry about, and Felix desperately wants to kiss this damn acrobat who's in his hotel room making him grilled cheese at three in the morning.

"Magnus?"

"Yes, Felix," he murmurs back, smiling softly.

"Is that why you're still here, being so... lovely?"

But there's something in Magnus's eyes that dims at the question, just a little. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, his smile turns a touch awkward as he pushes off of the counter to check on the stove. Felix follows him with his eyes, confused, unsure of what he could have said that was wrong.

"I suppose that could be the short answer," Magnus offers, idly. Felix is quiet, crosses his arms on the bench and sinks down to rest his head there, almost childishly, waiting, "don't know if this is a first-meeting discussion either." Magnus finally comes to, though his tone is thankfully lighter.

Silence. Slowly, Felix sits himself back up and starts on the grilled cheese in front of him, quietly thanking Magnus who once again assures him it's no trouble. They sit and eat in silence together; it's not awkward, but Felix is growing more tired with each moment that passes.

"I'm five-seven," Magnus offers without prompting, halfway through the impromptu meal. Felix snorts so hard he starts almost choking on a lump of cheese. Magnus claps him on the back, snickering to himself. Felix, while trying to blink away the way his eyes are watering, peers over to the boots by the door once more, "six inch platforms."

"Fucking hell, how do you walk around in them?" Felix says between thankfully clearing coughs, "you don't perform in them, do you?"

"Fuck no," Magnus grins, "it's not that hard -"

"They'd make me near about seven foot!" Felix crows.

"Maybe next time you can try them on."

Next time.

Even as Magnus spends the next half hour tending to Felix's wounds, advising on how to take care of his muscles, Felix can't stop grinning to himself. Then Magnus says it again, wearing a grin of his own;

"I'm not kidding, I'm going to make sure you're taking care of yourself next time I see you."

"You promise?" Felix wears a wide, goofy grin, clearly giddy at the prospect, enough so that Magnus can't help but finally pull him in for a kiss.

"Promise, Felix."

[radiant-reid]

The Right Person

request:

things spencer would say to his ex who’s his ex but not really his ex bc their hearts always belong to the other but is actually his ex bc they called it quits but just bc it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over cuz he’s just: last slide

Summary: Right person, wrong time... at least until there's a part two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst, sort of)

Content Warning: a tiny spicy moment

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist | Navigation

Spencer has always jumped into things too quickly. It's the cocktail of being a romantic, coming from a broken home, failing with most social relationships, and the desperate need for a family.

So when Y/n came along, all smiles and beauty, he moved too fast. Fell is probably a more accurate verb. He fell in love so quickly without any logic that he couldn't help proposing a year in and marrying her six months later.

She offered him support and unconditional love. And for the first time in a tough five years in the FBI, he felt like the world wasn't completely terrible.

The whirlwind relationship would have been much better if taken slowly. It might have even worked out. With their fast pace, neither of them could keep up and after four years, trying to make it work wasn't worth it. The therapy, fights, and long periods without speaking wasted time and drained them both emotionally.

It was like fire. Hot and heavy or warm and comforting, but they were destined for a burn.

Sure, they loved each other more than anything, and they would forever argue that they're soulmates and the timing was at fault.

When Beatrice was nine months old, it was clear things wouldn't, so for her sake, Spencer moved out, the fighting stopped, and they could be friends.

For three months, they've been doing well with their co-parenting routine. Since Spencer had spent so much time away during their marriage, Y/n didn't have to get over the feeling of loss.

Maybe some of that could be accounted for by the fact it still felt like they were dating, the magnetism between them still volatile.

It's Saturday when Y/n's baking in the kitchen. She's yet to enquire about selling it, probably because they're yet to properly get divorced. Somehow, it doesn't feel weird for her to live in their marital home. She ignores how little it feels like they're broken up, especially when she's eagerly anticipating him coming home back from a case. He's not even coming to see her, but she's changed out of her pajamas and put makeup on.

"Guess who?" A voice says while the matching fingers block her vision.

If she didn't know that voice like the back of her hand, she would have freaked out. "You're so close to losing your key, Spencer Walter Reid."

He pulls his hands away, resting his back against the bench with his body facing her. "Boring answer. I would have accepted sexy ex or the smartest man alive." He says, smiling his perfect wide smile.

He looks good, a golden glow still surrounding him, and his shirt fits him tightly around his muscles. She's allowed to say that as his eventual ex-wife, right? It's more of a compliment to herself for attracting attractive, intelligent men. That's how she justifies it anyway.

"Who's been inflating your ego, loser?" She teases.

Repartee of their level is something no one else could ever offer him, and he cringes when other people try. "Jealous?" He asks.

Yes, she is. She'd love to shower him with compliments. Tell him about how nice his hair looks a little bit longer, how he should wear more light blue because it really is his color, how good he smells, and some less innocent things as well. The jealousy boils in her at the thought of someone else doing that. Still, she resists.

"That someone else has to vacate the bathroom for hours each day so you can do your hair? No." She lies. It's a lie on all levels.

Unimportantly, he doesn't spend that long in the bathroom, and he's about the furthest thing from a narcissist there is, but deeply, she would jump at the opportunity to be locked out of the bathroom while he spends far too long in the shower and be greeted with the gorgeous sight of a towel wrapped around his hips and his chest showing.

"Okay." He lets it go, and it annoys her that he won't believe the time. "Can I have some cookie dough?"

"Say please." She directs.

He pouts too much like Beatrice. "Please." He complies before opening her mouth.

She frowns, unsure if he seriously wants her to hand-feed him cookie dough. The answer is yes because he doesn't shut his mouth and tell her it's a joke. She scoops some up, putting her fingers into his mouth. He doesn't let them sneak out without wrapping his lips. It's suggestive, and it doesn't disgust her.

"You'll get salmonella." She tells him when he finally lets her fingers out of his mouth. She tries not to blush like mad while she wipes her fingers on a kitchen towel.

"You'll have to look after me then," Spencer says, justifying it. "As the person who gave it to me."

She shakes her head. "Gross."

"Why are you baking on a Saturday?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. He's suspicious whenever things change in her behavior, more so than anyone else's.

"I'm anticipating being busy tomorrow." She answers ambiguously.

It was on purpose, but the goal wasn't to make him curious and ask more questions. She just wasn't jumping at the opportunity to hear his opinion on her love life.

Unfortunately, his curiosity peaked when she started speaking. "Why?" She mumbles out an answer that he doesn't catch. "Come on, don't be shy."

"I'm going on a date." She says finally, avoiding looking at him.

That knocks him off guard, the smile slipping from his face as he steps back. Quickly, he forces himself to say something recoverable to hide the hurt and shock he's feeling at the unexpected news. "Does he know you're married?"

He knows he has no right to be upset about it. Not only are they not exclusive, but they're, in no way, romantically involved. It's why there's no bite in his words, nothing vicious in his tone.

It hits him harder with every passing second. Her statement is something he never expected, and questioning why that is while standing in the middle of their kitchen with her in a beautiful new top, yeah, it's gut-wrenching.

She holds up her bare left hand, shed of a wedding ring. "He doesn't, no."

"What's his name?" Spencer asks next. There are a million questions on his mind, but he keeps the conversation casual.

"Bradley."

She feels guilty for it, unsure if it's cheating guilt or mom guilt, and she's forced to constantly remind herself that it's okay, she's allowed to say yes when she gets asked out and be swept away by someone else.

His next move, to her, seems predictable. Whenever he's looking for more information, he stays quiet, waiting for her to feel awkward enough to elaborate. Even though she used to read him like an open book, she can't see that he's processing, replaying their worst moments-the moments that led them here- in his head.

She keeps talking, annoyed that his old trick is working when really she's just breaking his heart more. "He's a defense attorney, but he accidentally took my coffee the other day."

Spencer resists the urge to scoff because 'accidentally.' He's seen Morgan use the move a hundred times: pretend to mix up the coffees, apologize, and seal the deal by asking if he can make it up to her. "Switching teams, I see." He interrupts, predominantly so that he doesn't have to hear anything else. "And a new top." He mentions. Again, a tactic to get her to stop talking. "What color is it? It would look really nice as a feature wallpaper."

He does that, too, only complimenting things adjacent to her. Talking about fucking interior design instead of just saying she looks nice pushes her buttons, and she knows where his are.

"Yeah, I was wearing a jacket in a similar color, so I'm hoping it's a subliminal message." She admits. "Plus he's tall and very attractive.”

Spencer wants to scream something along the lines of 'I'm 6'1, I have three PhDs, you've told me I'm handsome after you held my hair up while I puked after drinking far too much, and I'm so goddamn in love with you,' but he can barely admit the last fact to himself.

"So he's got brown curly hair and sparkling brown eyes?" Spencer teases her, and she rolls her eyes. That dumb eidetic memory would never let him forget the descriptors she'd given him, and his cocky attitude would never stop mentioning it. "It's not your fault you have a type. Scientifically-"

"Shh." She requests, pressing her finger to his lips.

Without thinking about it, like it was second nature, Spencer purses his lips and kisses her skin. After letting it linger for a moment, she takes it away and turns back to what she's doing.

Again, he draws her attention back to him, cupping the cheek furthest away from him and turning her face to look at him. Once she is, eyes locked on his, he holds her other cheek. He steps forward so that he's so close to her that her breath gets trapped in her throat.

Those fingers on her skin make her feel things she shouldn't be feeling, and her heart starts to thump in her chest when she sneaks a glance at those beautiful veins. Maybe her skin is hot or maybe his fingers are just cold but the contrast sends shivers all over her. It's hard not to think about all the times they've been inside her or how they look wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with her sex.

"Y/n, if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god." He says threateningly, and it would worry her if she didn't know him so well and if it wasn't so hot.

"You don't believe in god." She calls him out, raising her eyebrows in challenge.

"I can find anyone, anywhere." She can't debate that. "And if he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him or put him in jail for the rest of his life. Your choice."

He's acting like he's doing her a favor, letting her decide how he'll hurt someone who hurts her. It's an odd declaration to be making, contradictory to every bit of his sweet nature, and she doesn't hate it.

"What if I ask- beg for it?" She questions him.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that." He's really not.

He would do immoral things that would make him lose his job and even go to jail if someone hurt her, but the deep feelings he's disgusting as an overprotective bravado against someone assaulting her is really just because he can't stand the thought of someone else being with her.

He's not worried about it sexually. She might be anticipating not being home for the night, but she's not the type to ask a first date to get rough with her. What's got him on edge is her being someone else's emotionally. They might be telling everyone they're not together, but if her heart belongs to someone else, there's no chance of him getting her back, and that's all he wants.

His lips are so close that she could kiss him, but the magnetism makes it challenging to resist. She yearns for the feeling of warm lips against hers, more specifically, the pretty pink ones she's peeking at.

They've had slips before. It's been three weeks since their last one. Every time, she swears she won't do it again, but she's ready to tear his clothes off and fuck him in the kitchen.

She's daring him to make that dangerous leap, and he's about to.

The cries of a woken-up one-year-old through the baby monitor snap them back into a harsh reality before their lips can touch. They both wonder if it's horrid that they forgot why he's there. Spencer lingers for a moment with her face in his hands before he breaks away from her painfully.

"I'll go." He says, leaving her standing there stunned with cheeks hot and a pounding heart.

She has a moment to recover, but it's not enough, and soon Spencer's back in the room with the sweetest baby in his arms. She's giggling, clinging to her dad, who she loves dearly. If Y/n didn't love Beatrice wholeheartedly, she'd be jealous she wasn't enough for Spencer to spend time with. But she can't be. Not when Bea has the greatest dad in the entire world, and she deserves every inch of his love.

"Kiss momma." Spencer directs, holding her up to Y/n's cheek.

She plants a kiss that's mostly saliva on her mom, and despite how messy it is, it makes Y/n grin. "How'd you sleep, baby?" She asks, knowing they'll be no reply. Her vocabulary is limited to three words: mom, dad, and love.

"Not so well last night," Spencer answers like it was intended for him.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sitting Bea in his lap. "Spencer," Y/n warns, glaring at him.

"Your mom's mad at me." He stage-whispers to Bea. "I never know why."

"Should we start with lying to a child?" She wonders, but it's playful, not insulting. "Add in some pesky comments."

Spencer pouts, holding Bea up so she can see it and copy her father. "Oh, she loves them." He assures her. "And I love you. So much."

Y/n smiles in adoration. He might be difficult to be in love with, but he's the best dad ever. Spencer catches her staring, it's pretty obvious when the bowl of cookie dough sits abandoned on the counter.

"You look so similar." She says, trying to prevent the awkward since and slightly too romantic looks.

"Need another one to look like you?" He jokes, or maybe it's an offer. She can't really tell.

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm alright, thanks."

"But she's so perfect." He coos, her entire hand holding his pinky finger. "How could you not want another one?"

She chuckles at his baby fever. It is practically impossible to not want another child when theirs is so incredible, but they're only masochistic towards each other.

"Don't go getting random girls pregnant, Spencer." She jokingly advises him.

“I’m only ever going to get one girl pregnant.” He tells her.

He’s messy. In fact, they’re messy together, and he can’t keep his dick in his pants, but it’s not a problem he has with anyone else.

"That's possibly very nice." She says, frowning as she tries to figure him out.

"You're lucky." He rephrases.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're lucky I don't kick you out now."

"Whoa, I get it." He teases. "It's someone's time to get lucky, hang a sock on the door and all that."

"I highly doubt you got any in college." She reminds him.

"Or now." He adds.

It should be weird. Who casually discusses sex with an ex?

"Yeah, I noticed one of your hands seems stronger than the other." She quips, although there's no discernable difference. They're both equally delicious.

"Mm, reminds me, I need more lotion." He mentions, playing along with the joke. "Vanilla, right?"

She fake-gags. "That's literally disgusting." She chides. "Do not go and get the same lotion I have to jack off."

He shrugs casually. "It's a free country."

"You're disturbing." She reiterates, reminding herself he said it to get her flustered.

"Don't flirt with me like that, or I might start thinking you like me." He warns, fluttering his eyelids at her.

She does feel like she's falling in love all over again with him when it's all flirting and comfortable.

"You'd be begging if I was flirting." She assures him, and it's true. Spencer begs like no one else.

"Alright, I think that's time to go." He decides, clicking his tongue and looking at Bea again. "Your mom's too into me for her own good."

That is hitting the nail on the head. She's into him and she always will be, but it's not wise, and it compromises her self-respect time and time again.

He gets up, bouncing Bea on his hip and walking around the bench. She leans forward to kiss her happy baby before playing with her soft hair. "Just admit you lost, Spencer." She tells him.

A little grin lights up his features as he refuses to comply with her directions. "I never lose." Oh, except for his one true chance at happiness and a family with the most remarkable woman in the world.

"Those beautiful big brains." She coos, moving her hand to his hair to part his curls properly.

"I'm sure yours are equally, if not more, beautiful." He says, once again making her stomach slip with the eye contact. "Smaller of course."

She scoffs out a laugh. "Bye." She says. "Her bag's in the hall."

"When do you want her back?" Spencer asks, holding the baby up so her cheeks can be kissed an obscene amount of time.

Their custody arrangement is nonexistent. With Spencer's hectic schedule and their good relationship, there's never been a need to make it official. Bea's always his priority when he's in the District, and that keeps Y/n happy.

Not fully happy. She'd like to see Bea, and her dad, every day, and she's too far from that with the latter Reid to ever be completely satisfied with her life. Months later, she's still convincing herself she can one day not look at him and wish for something unrealistic.

"Whenever." She says. They start walking towards the front door, slowly, both lingering and dragging it out. "If you need to go, you can bring her back."

"If you're in the middle of a date?" He wonders cheekily, grabbing Bea's bag from the floor.

She glares at him, not finished with her sentence. "Otherwise, I'll text you."

"Call." He insists. "We're not texting people."

"Fine." She agrees, swinging open the door. She takes Bea into her arms, giving her a tight hug. "Love you, sweet baby."

"Mom, love," Bea mumbles back, placing her hands on Y/n's cheeks.

Spencer gets the sinking feeling in his chest that he always gets leaving, but it's worse when he's taking Bea, who's Y/n's entire world. It makes him feel nauseating amounts of guilt. How can he be okay with putting her through the loneliness of a house that big being empty?

He smiles at her as he takes Bea back. "Thank you."

She not sure what for and she doesn't have a chance to ask before he's walking out the door, strapping Bea in her car seat. She waves at her mom, looking as happy as always.

Spencer stops before he gets in his seat. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?" She asks, straightening up her posture.

She's hoping he'll say what she wants to hear, although she doesn't know what that is. A Spencer fact would keep things simple, but saying something about how they can get back on track, that she shouldn't go out tonight, would ruin their carefully stacked house of cards.

"He's a lucky guy." He says, and it kills him to know that it used to be him taking her out, watching her grin from across the table, making her laugh until she's begging him to stop, driving home with his hand on her thigh, watching her take off her makeup and become more beautiful, and ending up cuddling in bed, their baby just a room over.

And he can't ever have that again, not with her, and he can't fathom it with someone else.

Y/n goes back inside once he's driven away, hoping for once, after he leaves, that she can not think about him.

It doesn't work. As always, she's stuck thinking about Spencer.

Tell me what you think

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[lewisvinga]

Can you write something about vini maybe? Like maybe him begin jealous/overprotective of u when someone from barca tries their luck with u?(like maybe gavi or de jong since they kinda have beef)

my girl ! | vini jr x fem reader!

warnings; jealous & protective vini🤞🤞

note; this is so late SORRY 😔 but vini is too fine i love him sm

masterlist !

Real Madrid and Barcelona’s rivalry often became physical on the field. However off field, they often tried to keep their peace. Vinicius just wanted to be peaceful with any rivals off the field, mainly due to not wanting to be fouled over and over again on the field.

He tried really hard. He truly does.

But having the most gorgeous girlfriend all dressed up at some event while a certain youngster keep ogling you, it didn’t help.

You excused yourself to go get a drink at the bar while Vinicius was talking with Eder, Rodrygo, and Raphinha. You were ordering a cocktail when you felt someone appear behind you.

“Whats a lady like you doing here alone?”

You turn around and make eye contact with the Spanish midfielder. Pablo Gavira. Probably your boyfriend’s biggest rival. He stood next to you as you watch the bartender make your cocktail.

“Getting a drink.” You mumble

“Alone?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? Shouldn’t he be accompanying his gorgeous girlfriend? That’s not being a good boyfriend, is it?”

It took everything in you to not lash out on him. He was starting to get on your nerves. His smirk, his words, his sudden closeness to you. Everything was annoying you. However, you weren’t one to lash out or be openly rude to someone so you stayed silent.

“Cat got your tongue, huh-“

“Leave her alone.” Both you and Pablo look up and see a very jealous and angry Vinicius in front of you. Thankfully, the bartender set your drink down on the counter so you quickly grab it and take a step closer to the Brazilian.

The Spanish player holds his hands up in defense as he lets out a taunting chuckle. “I was just joking, no need to get all riled up. I understand though, pretty girl you have.” He says as his lips curl into a smirk.

Vinícius scoffs, taking a step closer to him. “You’re sick. Stay away from her.” You watch the two cautiously. From the corner of you eye you can see Rodrygo and Raphinha watching. They were both contemplating on what to do.

You attention went back on the two men in front of you.

“Or what?” Pablo asks.

You swore you could’ve seen stan coming from Vinicius ears from how angry he seemed. You quickly grab his arm and tug him towards you. “Let’s go, amor. Não desperdice sua energia com alguém tão desesperado por atenção que quer flertar com a namorada de seu rival.” [Don't waste your energy on someone so desperate for attention that they want to flirt with the girlfriend of their rival. ]

Pablo’s eyes furrowed in confusion from the sudden language shift. You gave him a glare as you drag Vinicius away. You were leading him back to your table and he kept rambling under his breath. “Você pode acreditar nele? Ele teve a audácia para a minha garota?” [Can you believe him? He had the audacity to talk to my girl?] He angrily mumbles.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as you to say down. Your boyfriend looked at you in confusion. “Why are you laughing?”

“No reason,” You reply with a shrug, “I like it when you get protective and jealous.”

He raises his eyebrow and leans in close to you, “You do?”

You nod in response, a smile adorning your glossed lips. “I do. You look attractive.”

“Can’t help it. Você é minha, minha garota.” [you’re mine, my girl] Vinicius smiles, reaching over to gently cup your cheek. He knew Pablo was watching and he couldn’t help but feel cocky at the whole situation. After all, he has the girl.

You lean in, and before you pressed a kiss against his lips, you whisper, “Always and forever yours, meu amor.”

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 12)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: post business cocktail

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

Table of Contents:

PART ELEVEN

“I’m yours.”

Isobel repeated the sentiment as her soft lips moved from his to press against the skin below his jaw. He sagged into her at the feeling of her brushing his skin with her mouth. Her words made his entire body tremble in satisfaction, and there was nothing he could do to stop the groans from rumbling out of his throat, not with her lips on his body.

Two words could mean so much, those two words that she was whispering with every kiss she left meant so much. They made him feel whole and satisfied, yet somewhat terrified that the person that could make him feel so inexplicably fulfilled was laying right there under him—like he found a hidden artifact that he wasn’t supposed to.

Just for tonight he wanted to pretend as if Isobel was his to keep, to hold, to protect, to feel these confusing feelings towards—because when he thought of her as his they made sense in his head.

Isobel bent her left leg so her knee was up in the air and resting against Drew’s hip, swallowing a sigh as his pants brushed against her inner thighs. She loved the feeling of having his wide frame covering her own, his hard body tucked firmly against her with one of his hands gripping her waist at the feeling of her tongue caressing the veins lining his neck.

The sounds coming from her sensual kisses in the silent room went straight to his dick, pulling a low groan from his mouth. He was so shameless with the noises he made, another thing high on the list of what turned her on the most about him. His openness to display how much he wanted her.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, her body was under his but she had all of the control at the moment, especially with that declaration leaving her lips. Her hands were everywhere, rubbing his shoulders, slowly trailing down his chest, her fingers running over every contour and muscle. Isobel hummed in content as her lips lifted to meet his once more.

“Isobel.” Drew sighed into the kiss, satisfaction laced deep in his tone, her stomach twisted at the sound of him calling out to her.

Drew rolled onto his back as her manicured hand pushed his chest, he didn’t even think of what he was doing as his back hit the mattress, he just felt her touch and he fell—that was becoming a familiar feeling with Isobel. She chased his mouth when his head hit the pillow, reconnecting their lips and wrapping her arms around his neck. Isobel licked his bottom lip with her tongue and tasted the strawberry flavor from her lip mask she put on after her shower. His mouth opened at the feeling and then they were tasting each other.

She knew they should probably pull away before things got too heated—before they got in too deep—but with Isobel and Drew all it took was the smallest act of affection and they were already forgetting all inhibitions. Kissing felt so intimate with Drew, in a way that made her feel as if she was baring every inch of her being to him. It made her feel needy and desperate for him to take her and stick his tongue further down her throat, to squeeze the fat of her behind in his rough fingers a little tighter, and to pull her further against his hard body while wrapping an arm around her waist with a groan to show her how much he needed her too.

That should be enough for her, knowing that he desires her physically because that’s how things were supposed to be between them, but still her wandering mind longed to hear Drew backup his sudden interest in her, “Tell me why you want me, Drew.”

He hummed in question against her lips, the vibration from the sound tickling her face as she disconnected their mouths. Drew stared at her in a trance as his tinted blue eyes watched her pointer finger trace her lips.

“Tell me why I’m yours tonight.” Isobel reiterated as she sat up on his lap, ignoring the way his belt buckle was pressing in between her legs and the tent in his slacks swelling up against her ass. She always ignored the feeling of his arousal when she felt it brushing against her when they were in bed, she had to because if she gave it attention she wouldn’t be able to leave it alone—to leave Drew alone.

Drew was choking, struggling to catch his breath as he felt her ass grazing the hard-on he was pitching in his pants just from a little tongue kissing. Kissing always got him somewhat turned on, it was always a good start, but with Isobel everything was different. The smallest form of foreplay when it came to the beautiful woman staring down at waiting for his next words got him harder than he’d ever been. It was a mind fuck and the reason he was always so eager to put distance between the two because he honestly didn’t know how his body would react whenever they took that next step.

“You’ve always been mine in someway, Isobel.” Drew rasped in response, he stared directly into her chocolate brown eyes and it seemed as if that connection pulled the emotions out of his mouth he’d been burying deep in his chest, “Mine to protect, mine to annoy, and mine to take care of.”

It was moments like this that she hated she knew Drew, that she had been around him long enough to pick up on his cues because when he ended a sentence with her name she knew he was being serious, and that for him she would be his not just for tonight but for the days following so long that he remained interested. She also hated that the knowledge of knowing he could be harboring those feelings calmed her nerves, so much so that things potentially going south between them wasn’t something she could convince herself to dwell on because for some reason with him she felt safe.

Isobel noticed he was always so willing to express what he could promise to her, but what he needed or expected from her always remained floating in his blue eyes in unspoken emotion. That look in his eyes when he so openly admired her always unsettled her in fear she wouldn’t live up to that idea he’d formed of her in his head, but she’d be selfish to not to try to fulfill those perceptions of herself for him. And she would never know if she couldn’t live up to them if she ran from him.

“Don’t you want me to ever take care of you?” She asked in a small voice. Isobel had given herself to a man and spread herself thin to fulfill all of his desires but it wasn’t enough—she wasn’t enough to keep him interested in only her.

It was scary for her to offer that part of herself up to someone again, but there was something about Drew that just made her want to give and offer herself up for his taking. He just made her feel a slither of hope that he wouldn’t throw her efforts back in her face.

“You can do anything you want with me, baby, I just need you in ways I can’t put into words.” Drew began and she was hanging onto his every word like everything he divulged could potentially widen that slither of light she had thawing her chest into a beaming ray, “I look at you and it’s enough, anything else you give me makes me feel like the luckiest guy alive.”

Isobel’s mouth spread into a toothy grin, her cheeks red at his words, and Drew couldn’t help but melt further into the bed at the devastating sight. She was gorgeous when she showed her happiness—that wasn’t the sad aspect of it all—it was how easily his heart was tuning itself to beat just for her. It was uncomfortable to have the breath stolen so quickly from your lungs like his heart had skipped a few beats at how fast he seemed to be falling.

“You know I can see why you have so many girls falling for you back at school, Drew.” Isobel noted with a smaller amused smile playing at her lips, “You’re a sweet talker.”

Drew couldn’t even form a face in his head of any of the girls he’d entertained on campus, not when she was effortlessly destroying the standard of women his brain had developed over the last twenty two years. When he thought of women and beauty, intimacy and longing, and stability and the future his mind now drifted to Isobel, “Are you saying you’re falling for me, Izzy Bear?”

“No! that would be absurd, it’s only been two weeks.” She denied a bit too quickly for her liking, and the amused look that formed in his eyes annoyed her beyond lengths. It wasn’t him thinking that he could make her fall for him just like all the girls that unnerved her, it was the possibility that him thinking such would put him off.

Two weeks, Drew thought to himself that’s all it had taken for the monsoon of feelings to embed themselves into his head and deep in his chest. And it wasn’t the end, it didn’t feel that way in the slightest, everything with Isobel felt like the beginning of a lovely demise of who he used to be. It had been so much longer than two weeks, they both knew that, but realizing the big picture of it all—of Isobel and Drew—was hard to do in such little time.

“Yeah, that would just be insane.” He agreed, it felt like the right thing to say in the moment, but it didn’t feel that way when he actually heard the words leave his lips. If feeling for Isobel was wrong he would proudly be labeled as a maniac. These emotions were new for him, but Drew had been feeling for Isobel for years, sure they were untapped or dormant in a sense but still they were there.

And now they were hitting him all at once.

Silence overtook the two for about a minute as they gazed at each other. There was so much intensity in the silence as if everything they were withholding was being leaked in the absence of their words. That heavy look he was giving her made heat swarm her gut, it was dangerous how Drew’s bare minimum could affect her.

Drew thickly swallowed when Isobel leaned towards him, pressing her bra less chest that was covered in a thin tee into his and placing a glossy kiss onto his left ear. As expected the simple touch pulled a groan out of him, his arm slinging over the back of her waist and harshly gripping the fabric covering her skin. Her lips then began to move as she let her tongue slip out to slowly trace the she shell of his ear in torturous strike of the sensitive skin. She smiled at the small moan he gave her, and she knew he felt her amusement from the pinch he gave the side of her ass. She giggled in his ear and he grunted before suddenly pressing his hips up in between legs against her heat and now she was the one gasping for air.

Isobel was immobile for a few seconds as he continuously began to slowly roll his hips into her dampening cunt. Drew had stolen the control with his arm locked tightly around her waist, forcing her hips to stay pressed into him as he used his hips to grind against her, “Fuck, baby.” He mumbled, his eyes left hers as he looked down and watched the connected parts of their bodies rub against each other. Isobel yelped when one of his big hands roughly squeezed her ass cheek during his distracted glance, the skimpy pajama shorts she was wearing not leaving much to the imagination.

Somewhat pulling herself out of the pleasure of feeling his erection and the fabric of his pants rubbing against her, she continued her ministrations on his ear as she sucked the lobe in her mouth and bit the skin, “Shit, what are you doing to me, Is.” He grunted out.

“I’m going to take care of you.” Isobel whispered into his ear. Her tone sounded womanly, there was finality yet a sense of open-endedness in her statement like it applied to more than just tonight and it warmed his chest.

Her lips found his once more, leaving a noisy peck to which he tried to prolong into a passionate kiss, but she’d already moved onto the center of his throat as she left kisses down the column of his neck. The lower her mouth traveled the more her back began to arch and the view he got of her full ass perched into the air made his dick throb between his legs—he was fucked.

Isobel’s lips got to the top of his chest and glanced up to see his eyes were closed, the girl took the opportunity to slip one of the glossy buttons on his shirt out of the hole revealing more of his built chest to her, “Isobel.”

Her eyes shot back up to his at the warning tone in his voice, his eyelids were back open but he kept them trained on the ceiling above them. She rolled her eyes at his obvious weariness, but it made the arousal grow in her belly at the authority he always attempted to exert over her.

“I only undid one button, I just needed a little more room.” She lied through her teeth, she would’ve undone more if he hadn’t objected, actually his shirt would’ve been ripped open as soon as he walked in her room if they weren’t expecting her parents eventual arrival.

So Isobel made due with what she had, covering the revealed skin under his button-up with her sweet kisses as he laid there and relaxed above her with his large arms now resting behind his head. After kissing and nipping at what she could get to above his shirt she continued on to his fabric covered chest, her lips dragged down his sternum before pausing and his eyes snapped down to hers at her lack of movements. She made sure his eyes remained on her as she moved to press a wet kiss over his right nipple, suppressing a giggle when she saw the gulp he took while watching her tongue trace the hidden skin in teasing circles.

Drew couldn’t speak, he’d made a mistake of looking at her in this state, she was sin the flesh, every dirty fantasy he’d conjured up in his dreams there before him with her ass swaying in the air. His eyes on her lewd actions seemed to make her speed up her descent as she skipped over his lower stomach, causing her breast to lie on his arousal. There was mischief in her dark eyes, there always was when they were in a position like this, but he always registered it far too late because in one moment she was giving him an innocent smile and the next she was untucking his shirt from his pants as she slipped the hem up past his abs. She glanced down at the muscles for a moment, but looked back up to Drew for second before making anymore movements, “It won’t take you anytime to tuck in your shirt again right?”

“No, you’re good, Is.” He smirked, he was fucking smirking and enjoying her little games and it lit her blood aflame and encouraged her to keep trying her luck.

Isobel’s lips found the skin of his lower stomach, loving the way his body twitched underneath her and the never ending groans escaping him. The sounds he made were driving her insane, and the feeling of his eyes watching only drove her to want to give him more. She’d given his ears and neck copious amounts of her attention, but the closer she got to what she truly craved—to what she knew he was trying to convince himself he didn’t need—she was losing her patience.

She flattened her tongue on the trail of skin leading to the button of his pants, reaching between their bodies to undo the buckle of his leather belt, “Are you gonna let me do this for you, Drew?” She asked as she slowly began to pull the belt out one of loops so she could get to the buckle to unlatch it.

Drew couldn’t think of one excuse to get Isobel off his dick not even the fact that her parents could be on the way was deterring him in the slightest thanks to the arousal clouding his judgement, he wanted this and he could only deny her so many times—it truly was up to her at this point.

“You’re asking to put my dick in your mouth, Princess?” His voice was low, a complete contrast to how his body was internally reacting to all of this, like this was his first time with a woman, and in a sense the notion kind of held some sort of truth to it. His heart rate doubled when she nodded with those dark eyes trained on his own, but he needed more than that, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, Drew, I want it.” Isobel pouted, eager to get his pants unzipped and finally see him. She knew he was well-endowed from the numerous times she’d felt him against her the past couple of weeks, but this would be her first time seeing his dick in the flesh.

Drew reached down and took over, unfastening his belt while Isobel watched his large hands work and eventually unbutton and drag down the zipper of his pants. He brought just one of his hands back up to rest behind his head, and she took that as a cue to work his pants down his hips, not pulling them past his mid thighs. Before she could remove his black boxers his hand moved to his dick and squeezed the thick flesh right in front of her face, cursing to himself at the pleasure that shot up his spine, “I might cum fast, Isobel.” He stuttered before removing his hand and bringing it up to run his fingers through her thick hair as he watched her grab the band of his boxers just enough for his cock to slip out and fall toward his stomach with a heavy slap.

When Isobel was scared of things her mouth usually dried from the anxiety pooling in her belly, but as her eyes scanned over the unnerving size of his dick, saliva threatened to fall from her lips. Her mind blanked, completely forgetting what he’d just said to her a second ago. She could only focus on his member in front of her and his hands in her hair.

When she leaned down and flattened her tongue against his leaking tip his movements froze and his fingers squeezed the hair threaded between them as his entire body convulsed. Above her Drew released a groan that could be mistaken for someone being tortured but she continued.

Isobel spit on his dick, her eyes heavy with pleasure trained on his own hooded ones as her saliva slowly dripped onto his throbbing skin, and only did she divert her attention away from his heated gaze when it began to run down the base. She then wrapped her lips around him as she began to work the warm length of the velvety skin into her desperate mouth. She moaned at the feeling of him being inside of her with the wetness of her mouth encasing him and his hand shot up to his head as she looked to see him running it through his dark, buzzed hair, “Fuck, Izzy.”

She was practically dripping wet in her underwear at his exasperated reactions to her, nothing turned her on more to than seeing him display his desire. It was a paradigm, as if he had no control of how she was making him feel but also just natural instinct. She gave up on trying to get him to the back of throat figuring she would get there eventually, Drew wasn’t overly big he was just bigger than what she was accustomed to. She wrapped a hand around the base to jerk the part of him she couldn’t reach as she fucked her mouth over the expanse of him that she could.

“Baby, that’s too fucking good—you’re too good for me.” He moaned while also finding a moment to compliment her in way that mattered, in a way that went straight to her heart.

She hummed deeply around him and his words of endearment turned into mindless babbles. Slowly she was able to get him further down her throat and use less of her hand as only her thumb and pointer finger was wrapped around him, but she still needed that final push, “Push it more into my mouth, Drew.” She whined when she removed her mouth to catch her breath.

“You’re going to make me cum, baby.” He hesitated, his voice shaking from the pleasure she was giving him.

Isobel rolled her eyes at his delay, “That’s the point, Drew.”

He still looked hesitant to proceed as he stared down at her, so she took matters into her own hands. Isobel placed her mouth back onto his angry looking dick, taking him as far as she could and reached down to his balls to massage them in her hand, the groan he let out sounded inhumane as he roared her name. His hips snapped up into her mouth, and she got exactly what she wanted. The room was quiet save for his sporadic moaning and the slick sounds of him fucking his dick into her mouth as his hips rose and fell in swift movements.

There was one particular thrust that had Isobel sputtering when one of his hands returned to her head and held her in place as her nose grazed his skin and his tip pushed deep in her throat as she loudly gagged around him, “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He chanted.

He continued to repeat the words when she pulled back to take control and moved her mouth to his tip and used her hand to bring him to his climax. His dick never left her mouth when she felt him twitch, letting ropes of cum spurt inside of her as she used the extra lubrication to help her lips move swiftly up and down his dick, “Shit, Isobel.” Drew dragged out in a groan that could also be taken for a whine when she stopped sucking and began to clean his cum off his dick with her tongue and swallowed every drop of it.

Drew’s orgasm hit him like a strike of lightning shooting down his body as his back stiffened and his toes curled tightly in immobilizing pleasure. He hadn’t came like that since the night with Isobel in his truck, and it was safe to say that the energy depleting orgasms she was capable of giving him weren’t one hit wonders.

“You came so fast.” Isobel smiled, moving back up to face him and hugging his neck. Everything he did had her pathetically obsessing over the man and him cumming in her mouth was another bullet on the list, “Did I do good for you, Drew?”

“Yes, Izzy, you just made cum like I’ve never gotten my dick sucked before.” He was still trying to catch his breath as he spoke, but even as he tried to recollect himself she could sense he was somewhat embarrassed.

She refrained from smiling not wanting him to think she was finding amusement in his insecurity about what just happened. Isobel just marveled in the realization that this was new for him—the way he felt for her wasn’t comparable to anyone he’d been with before. The thought of alone made her vibrate with want for him as she laid against his heaving chest.

“I thought it was sexy, I’m the only girl who gets you like this?” She questioned the breathless man in a sweet tone.

He was now giving her an amused smirk as he lifted his hips to help her blindly pull his pants up after she reached down to tuck his semi-hard dick back into his underwear, and he loved the way her delicate hands handled him with familiarity, like he belonged to her. He let her get as far as pulling up his zipper before turning their bodies to the side and pressing her lips to his own, “You’re nasty, Isobel.” He mumbled against her mouth with all intentions to shift the attention to her, then the sound of incremental buzzing filled the air from across the room on her coat rack, he barely heard the sound in between the smacking of their lips but it was there.

“How long has that been going off?” Drew panicked, letting go of her waist causing her to fall onto the mattress as he got up and stalked over to his jacket she hung up earlier.

He hadn’t gotten there in time to accept the call, but when he scanned his notifications there were four missed calls—three from Chandler, and the most recent from his father. Hidden in between some of the missed call notifications were messages from Chandler informing him of Charles’ impending arrival.

“Isobel, Charles is about to be here.” He explained in a hurry, walking back over to slip his dress shoes back onto his feet.

Isobel instantly hopped out of the bed, and rushed over to him in a haste. When he leaned back up from tying his laces she yanked him towards her by his belt loops and tucked his shirt back into his pants and fastened his belt.

Drew could even get a word out before she was shoving his blazer in his arms and pushing him towards the door. She’d gifted him with a life altering orgasm and now she was rushing him out of her room, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought of it.

“Wait!” She called out, he had just slightly pulled her bedroom door ajar before she reached from behind him to slam it back close.

Isobel moved to stand in the small space between the front of his body and the wooden barrier and reached up to swipe her thumb across his lips that were shining from her sticky lip mask transferring onto them.

Drew absolutely loved when she did that.

“What would I do without you?” Drew heard heard an engine outside the house reminding him of their predicament, but still couldn’t help but lean down to softly press a gentle kiss to her cheek before backing out of her room and twisting towards the stairs.

Drew jogged down the stairs while looking at his phone with the intention to return his father’s call, but before he could even press the contact the handle of the front door twisted as the door pushed open to reveal an annoyed looking Charles, “You coming from upstairs?”

“Yeah, I was just telling Isobel I was leaving after Chandler let me know you were coming.” The lie thankfully came easy to him, but he struggled not to stumble over his words with what had really been going on up there fresh on his mind.

Charles gave him that familiar hum laced with an octave of suspicion, but he left it alone as always. He never pushed or pried, he just made sure that Drew knew in the most vague way that he doubted his word, “Alright, let’s head home.”

“Wait, where’s Cooper and Lora?” Drew asked, he hated he was leaving Isobel alone when she’d expressed to him that’s the last thing she wanted to be after what happened at the cocktail. When his father turned his head to glance behind him and sighed in what looked to be pity, the reason for Drew asking was painstakingly obvious.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes, Richard had to grab some things before they left.” Charles answered while wrapping an arm around Drew’s shoulder so the two could exit the door together. Sure it was stiff and sort of felt second nature to the father and son, but still he felt a sense of support.

They didn’t talk on the car ride home, their house was not too far from the Cooper’s, but the silence felt thick with tension making the ride feel far longer than a few minutes. When Charles pulled into the driveway and put the car in the park he made no movements to get out, he just sat there and stared down at the wheel. Drew awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck at his father’s weird behavior. Eventually the younger Starkey reached to unbuckle his seatbelt, and as if the click of the buckle was a trigger Charles turned his neck to glance at him with a complicated look.

“Remember when you charged that kid for targeting your teammate that one game your senior year? I remember it like yesterday—that look of determination in your eyes as you marched over there.” His father’s eyes softened as the memory seemed to be playing out in his head, “I see that same look in your eyes when you entertain the idea of working at C&S, it’s minor but it’s there.”

Drew’s mind drifted to all those years of baseball he played, he definitely missed the sport, but most of all he missed the camaraderie that came with having teammates. He was the team captain his last year of high school, the one who was supposed to lead by example, but if someone was fucking with someone on his team he didn’t have a problem getting tastefully violent to get his point across. It gotten him some violations, but he never got in trouble for it, not by his coach and interestingly enough never by his father. The man who loved to critique his every move and to ensure his every action was made in favor of his future never had anything to say in those moments.

Charles continued despite Drew’s silence as if he expected it, “But today it was full blown, just like that day on the field all those years ago.”

His eyes snapped to his father’s at his reference to having to stop Drew from tearing through the crowd at the ballroom and putting his hands on that man who dared to touch Isobel. Though, tonight was different than baseball because he wasn’t defending some friend on his baseball team, he was fighting for Isobel, and he didn’t know himself the lengths he would go to protect her.

There was no question that Charles had caught on to what was going on with him and Isobel, but Drew wouldn’t be the first to say it aloud, so he bit his tongue.

“I can’t tell you who you can be with but I can advise you, if you do not believe you are man enough for her then end it, but from my perspective it looks like the damage has already been done.” He went on with a sigh of indifference as if he’d already accepted there was nothing he could do about it.

“Why do you have to say it like that—like if I touch her she’ll burn.” Drew’s tone was incredulous, he hated that Charles’ input could so easily work up that amount of emotion within him.

Charles eyes twinkled as he gave his son a once over. That look of understanding from earlier present in that glint of light.

“You’re the one who’s been burned, Son, but in regards to Isobel I don’t think ‘burn’ is the right word—I don’t blame you, though, I’ll never fault you for shooting for the stars.”

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART 13

[ghostofskywalker]

Can I request a tech x gn reader where the reader gets injured upon landing instead of him?

warnings: spoilers for tbb episodes 1 and 2!!

hello! here it is, i hope you enjoy!! side note, i was researching what a broken femur felt like (i've never broken a bone so i have no clue) and from what i can tell, the pain is literally unbearable, so either tech is a hell of a lot stronger than people give him credit for, or they totally downplayed how painful this injury is!

words: 2,033

summary: after you get injured in the cargo container, it's clear that tech is worried about you, and you can't help but wonder how your injury will change the team's dynamic.

clone troopers masterlist

Why Serenno Isn't Exactly The Best Place For a Vacation

The crate came flying at you too quickly to move out of the way in time, and the crushing pressure you felt when it landed on your legs made the hope of escaping unscathed completely out of question. You barely registered the shouts of your name from the other members of the team, and even when they removed the offending object from your legs there was no break in the pain.

Constant and unfathomably sharp, the feeling of absolute agony took over to the point where you were blinking tears out of your eyes and trying desperately to think about anything but the ever-growing feeling of horrifying torment. “Are you okay?” you heard Omega ask, and you knew she only meant well, but you were in no shape to answer.

“I believe that you have broken your femur,” Tech said after he took out a scanner from his belt and ran it over your leg. “This is a very serious issue, and we will need medical attention as soon as possible.”

“Let’s hope we can get out of here soon then,” Echo responded, and you couldn’t help but agree with him.

There was no hiding the pain now, and you just let the tears flow freely instead of trying to downplay the cocktail of horrors you were currently experiencing. Echo and Tech climbed up the side of the cargo container to hopefully be able to see where it had landed, and Omega stayed by your side, her little hand finding its way into your larger one. You knew that she was worried about you, and you tried your best to offer a smile of reassurance, but you were sure that it probably didn’t seem that convincing. After being pulled up by a wire and eventually landing on the clifftop, you laid on the ground and stared up at the sky, desperately hoping that everything would all be over soon.

There was still so much at play and so much danger all around you, but it was going to be hard to focus on anything but the terrible pain in your legs at this moment. You closed your eyes in hopes that you might be able to trick your brain into believing that you were anywhere but here right now, and you heard snippets of conversation between Echo, Tech, and Omega.

“Can’t move well, if at all…”

“It’s dangerous to be so open and exposed…”

“Nothing we can do if…”

You floated in and out of consciousness the entire time, still trying desperately to cling onto happy memories of the past even though it has proven so far to be ineffective against this particular torment. You thought you heard Echo say something about checking out the area and searching for cover, but the next thing you truly registered was the sight of Tech leaning over you, a worried expression on his helmet-less face.

“What’s happening?” you managed to slur out, the pain starting to affect your speech.

“Echo and Omega are going to search for a suitable shelter while we wait for Hunter and Wrecker to return with the Marauder,” he said. “But unfortunately there is not much I can do to help you at this moment. The fracture that you sustained inside the cargo container will require more medical attention and skill than either Echo or I have to give.”

You nodded in understanding as Tech took your hand and gently pulled it up to place a soft kiss to your palm. The gesture did calm and ground you, even if just for a fleeting moment, and you were thankful that he stayed behind with you instead of Echo or Omega.

While you couldn’t ever put an exact label on the relationship you had with the Bad Batch’s resident genius, it was certainly more intimate than the one you had with the other members of the squad. But due to your own worry and the fact that neither you nor Tech were really great at expressing your feelings, the few kisses you had shared and obvious affection you felt for one another never received a specific designation, instead remaining as open and nebulous as the galaxy itself. But you did know one thing, and that was the fact that even though the pain in your leg had yet to subside even for a single moment, you couldn’t help the way you wanted to pull yourself off the ground and place soft kisses all over Tech’s worried face.

But clearly you couldn’t, so you had to be okay with simply holding his hand until Echo and Omega returned with an elderly gentleman in tow. It seemed that neither of them noticed the way your hand pulled away from Tech’s or the way he stood up quickly as they approached, and soon you were being gently pulled up and supported as you began the short (and immensely painful) trek to Romar’s dwelling.

The only thing that provided a little bit of hope once you reached shelter was the single painkiller capsule Tech found in his kit. It didn’t kick in right away, but by the time things got serious, the feeling of intense agony had started to fade, even if it only left you with a feeling of less intense agony.

When Omega disappeared, you kicked yourself for not noticing quicker. Tech and Echo had immediately ran out to check the war chest, sure that was where she had gone off to, and you sat there, wondering what you should do. It felt wrong to just stay here and do nothing while your teammates were out and likely experiencing immense danger, but the pain in your leg had simply not subsided, and you had a feeling that you would be stuck with this feeling for the considerable future, even if you were able to find some form of treatment for your leg.

But when neither Tech nor Echo returned to Romar’s home for a while, your mind took a turn for the worst. Pulling yourself up to a standing position, you hobbled to the door. “You won’t get very far in your condition,” Romar said gently.

You knew that it would probably be better if you stayed, but you just couldn’t stomach the idea of letting your team down. Being a member of this squad meant more to you than you could ever put into words, and you refused to sit by and stay out of the inevitable fight that was coming. “I’ll manage,” you responded to the old man, trying to hide the pain you were still feeling from your expression.

“Your friends seemed to foresee this happening,” he responded, and you turned around to see Romar holding a blaster out to you. You took it, overcome with an emotion you didn’t quite know how to explain, and after you thanked the man for all his help, you were stepping out into the night air and doing your best to ignore the horrible sensations you felt in your injured leg.

By the time you reached close to where you thought the cliff was, the pain in your leg had grown to nearly be unbearable, but you couldn’t focus on that now, because there were two troopers up ahead, their Imperial armor devoid of all the color and other things that made the Batch’s armor unique.

Stunning one of them was easy because they didn’t know you were there, but once your position was given away it got a little more difficult. Blaster fire scattered all around as you to took cover behind a tree, and you thanked the Maker that it only took one or two more shots to stun the other trooper. However, you weren’t out of the woods just yet (both literally and figuratively), because you had no idea whether or not more reinforcements were on the way, and you hadn’t yet seen Tech, Echo, or Omega.

As you took a tentative step forward, the uneven ground beneath your foot made you stumble, and the pain in your leg sent you careening forward. You threw your arms out as to not let your face hit the ground, but you were now completely stuck as you laid there, not enough strength left in your body to pull yourself back up.

The pain capsule from before was starting to wear off as the adrenaline from the fight also started to diminish, and you could barely register the sound of others approaching you, but you couldn't really recognize their voices. Hoping it was Tech, Echo, and Omega, you allowed your eyes to close, the inky blackness enveloping your mind and body like a warm hug.

***

The sound of steady beeping is what brought you back to the land of the living, and you were immediately startled by the brightness of this new location. The feeling of stabbing pain in your thigh had become a dull ache at this point, still intense enough to pull your concentration from anything else but significantly less powerful than it had previously felt. You shifted slightly in the cot you were laying on, and suddenly a hand appeared in your vision, gently landing on your shoulder to keep you from sitting up. “Calm down, you’re going to be okay.”

“I-”

“You shouldn’t move too much, it will disrupt your bandages.”

You knew that voice, and that familiarity is what got you to pause. Looking up, you got a better image of where you were. It was clearly some kind of medical facility, from the look of the beds and machines all around you, and you were laying on a cot. It was Tech that had stopped you from moving before, and he had a worried expression on his face. “Where am I?” you asked.

“Medical facility, courtesy of Rex’s information,” he responded. “They set and put a cast on your leg, but you will still need time to heal. Wrecker and Omega are currently picking out a cane to aid you when your leg has recovered enough to walk, apparently there were many options and they wanted to make sure you had the best one.”

You smiled slightly and nodded. The fact that your injuries had been treated explained the significant difference in pain level, but you knew this injury was not something that was just going to disappear. “When are you all going to leave?”

“Leave?” Tech’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in your question. “What do you mean?”

“I highly doubt I’ll be able to go on missions with you guys, and I wouldn’t want my injury to slow you down,” you said plainly. “I didn’t think you were going to wait for me.”

There was a moment of silence before Tech answered your question, and he reached down to gently take your hand in his. “There is not a single member of this team that thinks that we would leave you behind,” he said, his usual matter-of-fact tone having taken on a slightly softer edge. “And there is plenty that you can help us with even if you cannot be in the center of the action.”

“Really?”

Tech nodded. “Truly. I could not live with myself if we left you behind, just seeing you injured has been painful enough.”

At his words, you scooted over in your bed and tapped the spot next to you. “Come cuddle with me,” you said, hoping your silly request would be accepted and he wouldn’t find it odd or strange.

“But what about if the others see?” Tech’s eyes were wide behind his goggles, and if you were completely healed, you would have moved up to place a kiss on his cheek or nose.

“I don’t care if they do,” you responded. “I just want to cuddle with you.”

It took a moment, but Tech eventually obliged, gently slipping into bed next to you. When he placed his arm around you and felt you nuzzle gently into him, he immediately decided that he didn’t care what his brothers thought either. And besides, if the way Echo had looked at him when they were watching over your unconscious form on the ship was any indication, they probably already knew something was happening.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[slamminslamminmcgill]

joel getting off of a carpenter job all sweaty and smelling like lumber and probably a little beer and uhhhhhhhhh stealing his sweaty shirts and huffing them when he goes to shower. what who said that 🧍‍♂️

rl quick shoutout to my dilf friend who hosts the orgy he smells rly good and i huffed his pits last night so this one’s your fault babes mwah

anatomical terms: cunt, dick

Is this how drug dogs feel?

When some idiot’s trying to sneak weed through customs, is this how excited they get when they catch a whiff?

Well, probably not this excited, and either way, it’s not the smell that hypes them up, but the promise of a treat afterwards.

You, on the other hand, were attracted to the smell itself, or at least the idea of it. Specifically, Joel’s scent as soon as he walked into the apartment, face flushed, brow dotted with sweat, wet patches pooling under his armpits, sawdust sprinkling him from head to toe, ripped jeans with paint splatters on them. He looked gorgeous, so masculine and powerful. Jesus was a carpenter too, wasn’t he? Yeah, that tracks. No wonder he had twelve dudes following him all the time. Joel’s smell was as conspicuous as lighting a blunt in the airport, something that’d surely attract the dogs.

He wiped his Timberland boots on the mat, then knelt down to untie them. You watched, entranced, as he kicked them off and unbuckled his tool belt. You wanted nothing more than to rush him and face-plant into his armpits, but you figured you should show at least some restraint.

“I’m’onna take a shower,” Joel said matter-of-factly, dropping his tool belt on the counter. “Scream if ya need me.”

Shit, if that’s all it took, you’d scream for him to suffocate you in his pits and let you huff that glorious Man Smell™️ until you pass out, but that wasn’t what he meant. He meant “Unless you’re being murdered, don’t bother me for the next 20 minutes”.

No matter. You could easily keep yourself busy in that time.

Once the shower was on, you cloaked your footsteps under the sound of running water. Slowly, ever so slowly, you tiptoed to the bathroom and cracked the door open. Joel wouldn’t have been able to see you through the shower curtain, anyway, but you didn’t want him catching on. You slid your arm through the gap and blindly felt around for the first piece of clothing you could grab. At the first touch of cotton, you hooked your fingers into it, yanked it through the door, and inspected your prize: his t-shirt. Jackpot.

Having snagged your precious treasure, you shut the bathroom door and practically skipped off to your room. You flopped onto your bed, held the balled-up shirt to your face, and took a big whiff. Sweat, lumber, testosterone, and what you guessed to be either Modelo or Corona. Whatever it was, it was just one ingredient, one splash in this hedonistic cocktail that made it all the more intoxicating. Your cunt was already crying for attention, so you slipped your fingers in your underwear to soothe it. Rubbing along your own slit, spreading the wetness around, pinching your dick and stroking it, you tended to your needs as best you could, the musky shirt muffling your moans. You’d gotten so invested, so focused on your task, that you forgot to listen for the shower turning off. You only realized your mistake when it came barging through your bedroom door.

“Hey, have you seen my-?” Joel started, and then stopped mid-question when you answered it for him. Yes. Yes, you had seen his shirt. And now he had seen it, balled up in your desperate fist, while your other hand rubbed your even more desperate cunt.

No fucking shot of explaining your way out of this one. He knew immediately.

Joel snorted at the pathetic sight before him, “Oh my god, that’s… What is wrong with you, kid?”

You laid frozen on the bed as he approached, surely taking his sweet time to let your embarrassment fester. Once he was within range, he snatched the shirt out of your hand, and said,

“Don’t go stealin’ my shit, boy. Next time you want somethin’ from me, use your words and just fuckin’ ask.”

[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

[security-chief-odo]

The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 4

Elliot Spencer x Reader

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Note: Thanks for your patience. My life has been crazy as of late. In exchange for bearing with me, I offer you, probably my favorite chapter so far of any of my fics.

Word count: ~3.7k

Description: You and Eliot pine for each other throughout the reception. Will your ex get in the way of your happiness?

• • •

After the ceremony, you and the rest of the bridal party are asked to hang back for photos. As the rest of the guests file into the reception hall for the cocktail hour, Eliot makes a brief detour to give you a peck on the cheek. “See you inside sweetheart.” he says softly before rejoining the rest of the guests.

Your mind occasionally wandered to Eliot throughout the photo process, whereas his mind never left you from the moment that he left the bridal suite this morning. You looked gorgeous in the dress your sister had picked out for you. Maybe he could blame the dress for why he spent more time focused on you than on the actual wedding.

Though that is the beauty of this whole plan, there would be nobody to explain it to as he was supposed to want to stare at you. There would be no moment where Hardison calls him out for staring at you for a little too long. There would be no explaining, rather lying, to Parker about how protective he gets over you on a mission. There would be no knowing look across the room from Nate or well meaning advice from Sophie. There would be nothing but his own thoughts and delusions that you would ever want him to be more than just your fake boyfriend.

When the bridal party finally makes their entrance into the reception hall, his eyes are searching for you. Despite how happy you are for your sister, a feeling of relief nearly consumes you once you find yourself by Eliot’s side once again. Though, as you make your way to the table, your relief falters slightly at the realization of who you’ll be seated near. Your ex is seated at the same table as you, only two seats away.

Eliot’s warm embrace calms you though. This is what he was here for ultimately, to be a barrier between you and your ex. To make the night go better for you. And in a small way, he was already doing just that.

After the couple shares their first dance, dinner is served. You desperately try to avoid giving your ex any attention, and Eliot makes that easy. He eats slowly, taking time between bites to shower you with little bits of affection. His hand rests on your thigh through much of the meal and you hope that the flush that crosses your cheeks isn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. You could get used to these casual touches, if only they weren’t for show.

“How’d you like the food?” you ask, hoping that a bit of small talk can keep your wishful thoughts at bay.

“It was alright.”

That response alone was very telling so you quietly finish the sentence he was too polite to complete. “But you could’ve done better?” You raise your eyebrow at him as he half nods.

“I’m just sayin’ I know what these wedding caterers charge and they should take a bit more pride in their work.”

You can’t help, but chuckle at this as the DJ announces the father daughter dance. You turn your chair towards the dance floor to watch your father and sister share this moment and Elliot does the same beside you. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. You can’t help but lean into the touch. You probably don’t need to do as much as you are to sell the act, but damn it, if this is your only opportunity to be this close with Eliot, maybe relishing in it a little isn’t a bad thing.

After the dance, cake is served and this time Eliot has no complaints. The cake is as close to perfect as any cake could be. As you finish, you remind yourself to ask your sister where she got the cake from so you could maybe stop by the bakery on your own before you leave town.

As the dance floor opens up, you take this opportunity to go talk to your parents. You haven’t had enough time with them this weekend and you really have missed them. Ever the gentleman, Eliot insists on tagging along to properly meet them. He is far too good at this fake boyfriend thing.

You greet your parents with a warm hug. “I’ve missed you guys!” you say trying to be heard over the music. “It’s been too long.”

“And whose fault is that?” your dad asks.

Your mom nudges him and gives a disapproving glare at his bluntness. “You should visit more. Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to introduce us to this handsome fella.”

“I’ve been telling her the same thing.” Eliot steps in with the charm offensive in full force. “I’m Eliot.” He shakes each of your parent’s hands. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad things I suppose?” your mom asks teasingly.

“Hardly. She’s told me so many fun stories about your family. Though maybe a few of those stories could be classified as embarrassing.”

It’s nice to see your parents get along with Eliot, though it shouldn’t matter to you. You will have a fake breakup in a few weeks and this will be nothing but a memory for both of you. A damn good one too.

You’re broken out of that train of thought when you hear your mom reply, “Oh, is that so?”

“She’s got plenty of embarrassing stories of her own.” your dad adds in. Eliot lets out a hearty laugh at the prospect.

“Oh? Any worth telling?” You bury your face in your hands in fear of the mortifying words that may come next from either of your parents.

“How about you buy me a drink and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about our dear Y/N?” Your mom suggests.

“Gladly” Eliot guides your mom to the bar and out of your earshot as you sit with your father.

You sit in silence at first, just enjoying the shared time. Minutes pass before your father speaks again, without even looking directly at you, “He’s good for you, you know.”

You figure the best way to avoid being caught in a lie is to just stay as close to the truth as possible, so you tell your dad your real thoughts on Eliot. “I know, he’s a really nice guy. He’s funny and caring. I really love him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He turns to fully face you. “I just haven’t seen you this happy in some time.”

“Oh.” you say, stunned. This statement catches you off guard but luckily your father continues, so you don’t have to fill the silence.

“You seemed so sad before, especially with James. You used to force those tight lipped smiles that you thought we didn’t notice. This new guy has brought back your infectious smile. The one you don’t even seem to notice, you just do it.” He pauses slightly, “I missed that smile.”

This conversation comes to an end as your mom and Eliot return laughing loudly. Once he approaches the table, he stops in front of you. “Care for a dance?” He offers you his hand.

You gladly accept and follow him out onto this dance floor.You dance through several upbeat songs, joking and laughing at each other’s goofy dance moves throughout. For a moment, you forget how painful going back to normal life may be because having this much fun with Eliot reminds you how important your friendship is. The heartbreak could never break this bond. The bitterness of pining could never overpower the sweetness of these moments you share.

He spins you around and holds you close to him, your back to his chest. As you sway together to the music Eliot whispers in your ear, “You know, your mom told me some interesting things about you.”

“Oh god. What did she say?” You brace yourself for whatever ungodly stories from your youth your mom may have dug up for this occasion.

“Nothing too bad. I actually thought it was cute.” You turn in his arms to face him and raise your eyebrow as if to ask him to elaborate. “First she told me about the time you cut your own hair.”

You let out a chuckle, mostly in relief at how benign of a story that was. “I can still remember the terrible bangs I had in my school pictures that year. It felt like it took forever for those to grow out.”

“So is that why you convinced your sister to do the same just two years later?” He looks at you accusatorily and you know that your mom had to have given him more ammunition if he’s already digging in on the teasing.

You raise your hands defensively, “I just handed her the scissors and told her I thought she’d look cute with bangs. What she did after that is not my business.”

You wrap your arms around Eliot as you continue to dance as you bicker. “Oh I’m sure it was all her own idea.” His smile only widens as he continues, “She also showed me this picture of you as a kid where you were laying face first into your plate of mashed potatoes. It was cute. You’re still pretty cute when you get all sleepy like that.”

This catches you off guard because it’s just one more moment that’s a step past friendly without any reason for it. Nobody could really overhear your conversation over the music. He said that just for your benefit, or maybe just to sell the act. Maybe in a different life Eliot could have been an actor, he certainly played the part of lovestruck boyfriend pretty convincingly.

Trying not to focus much more on his words, lest their implications consume you, you add, “Did she tell you how I used to fall asleep at my bedtime so religiously I would sleep sitting up at family gatherings or in the cart at the grocery store?” He shook his head in response. “Yeah I wish I was still that committed to my sleep schedule.”

“Well ain’t that the truth sweetheart.” There’s a softness about him that is so rare and nearly indescribable. It’s a nearly magnetic force and you find it impossible to look away from him. It feels like if you even glance away for a second, the levity will be gone and the weight of the world will once again return to rest on his shoulders.

Soon you have to shift your focus as the DJ announces the bouquet toss. The men clear off the dance floor as all of the unmarried women gather. Sure, it doesn’t really mean anything if you catch the bouquet, but you find yourself reaching for it nonetheless. Maybe it was fate or maybe just luck or maybe it was set up by your sister considering her earlier remarks, but regardless the bouquet is in your hand and you’re staring down at it in shock.

Your sister hugs you and you know it’s going to break her heart when you and Eliot “split up.” Though by now, you’re too deep into it and so you have to act excited about this turn of events. A small part of you is excited though, the part that has clung onto every romantic moment this weekend as if it’s more than a fantasy. Perhaps that part isn’t so small.

On the side of the dancefloor the excitement over your purely hypothetical future builds in Eliot too. Fuck it. He won’t have many more chances to do this. He makes his way across the floor to you and happily pulls you to him, first in a tight hug, then into a lingering kiss. One that he has to hope you can’t just feel the sincerity of his desire dripping from.

You could get used to being kissed like this. Though, as your family is currently about half of the room, you pull away from Eliot, you can’t convince yourself to go very far away. Your foreheads rest against each other and the tension is palpable. Damn. He really is committed to convincing your family. He would have you convinced if you hadn’t been the one to set up this whole ruse.

Around you the dance floor fills again as the DJ turns on a slow song. You and Eliot hold each other close as you dance. Eliot softly sings along in your ear. His soothing voice slowly erases every worry you’ve had about this night. You feel safe and at home in his arms, and even if it won’t last, you can’t help sinking further against him. Truly if your heart must be broken, there’s nobody you would trust more to break it kindly.

You and Eliot are lost to the world around you as you both relish in what little time you have left to hold each other. That momentary bliss comes to an abrupt halt as the song fades out and you notice a presence looming just behind you. Just then you hear James’ voice behind you as his hand touches your back, sending a chill down your spine at your own unease. Speaking to Eliot he asks, “May I have her for this next one?”

Something seems off to him, but you reassure Eliot that it’s fine with a polite nod. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, of course this was never real so he should have been prepared for rejection, but it still stings seeing you in someone else’s arms. Maybe that’s why you invited him, not to avoid your asshole ex, but to make James jealous.

Eliot goes to the bar to drown in something other than his own self pity and insecurities, and is met with your mother inviting him to sit next to her. Despite his own feelings, he won’t ruin things with your family so he orders a drink and sits at the open stool she has offered him.

“You’re good for her, you know?”

“I try to be.”

“I mean it. She’s happier with you than she has been in a long time. She still thinks she doesn’t deserve you though.” your mom looks at him with a sad sort of smile.

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“She’s always been a worrier. You can see it in the way she holds you,” she pauses in thought before correcting herself, “in the way you hold each other. You’re both so scared the other will leave. You don’t think you deserve her either, do you?”

It’s a relief in a way to be able to be truly honest for once this weekend. “No ma’am. I can’t say I do. I’m happy to have her until she realizes that though, and that’s enough for now.” He waves to the bartender and orders a second drink.

“You’re both idiots, I swear.” Your mother lets out a long sigh. “Do you treat my daughter with kindness?”

Suddenly, under your mom’s gaze Eliot feels like he’s sitting in the principal’s office facing detention. He feels small. “Of course.”

“And you love her?”

“Yes.”

“So are you saying Y/N doesn’t deserve your kindness and love?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s going to leave you. That girl loves you, anyone could see that, so why are you sitting here with me at the bar, drowning your sorrows?”

He hangs his head in defeat, he couldn’t argue the point of your affections, not without ruining your plan, so he settles on the easier argument. “She already has a dance partner.” He gestures to the dance floor.

Your mom finally glances over to you and rolls her eyes. “God I’ve always hated that son of a bitch.”

Eliot can’t help the deep belly laugh that escapes him. Your mom cursing in anger is funny when it’s not directed at him. It’s then when you turn to where he can see your face, your features lined with sadness. His protective instincts finally kick in and he heads your way. He tries to hang back to get the full scope of the situation.

As Eliot was at the bar, your ex had been saying truly awful things. As Eliot reapproached, he continued. “He’s gonna leave you, you know?”

Eliot couldn’t make out any of what was being said, but he knew from the tension in your body that you weren’t happy. He’s kicking himself now for letting his own insecurities put you in the exact kind of situation he was here to help you avoid.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you plaster a fake smile on your face and through gritted teeth say “I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking business James.”

“I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that” you cut him off.

He continues, not acknowledging what you said. “I may have moved on, but I still care about you. You don’t deserve to be hurt when he finds a prettier girl and runs away with her.”

“Fuck off, James.” Eliot isn’t going to stay with you, but that doesn’t mean you need to tolerate James’ bullshit. You pull yourself out of his hold but he follows behind you.

Eliot quickly approaches as he sees this and is in earshot finally for the last insult James throws out. “You know, I don’t know why you bothered catching that bouquet. Nobody is ever going to love you, much less marry you.”

In an instant, James is grabbed from behind, turned, and pinned against the nearby wall. You barely hear the commotion behind you as you exit the reception hall and finally let a tear run down your face.

Inside all eyes are on Eliot and your family has gathered as he begins yelling at James, “What’s your fucking problem, man?”

All too cocky, James smirks, “Here to ask if you can have my current girlfriend when we break up? You clearly love my leftovers.”

That earns him a broken nose. Eliot’s fist makes sharp contact with his face and the blood from his nose quickly stains his white shirt. “You need to shut the fuck up and leave Y/N the fuck alone, or you’ll find out just how quickly I can break another bone.”

Ever the idiot James opens his mouth to reply, but, before he can, your sister yells at him, “Better yet, get the fuck out of my wedding.”

With the bride’s blessing, Eliot and your father drag James out to his car and, seeing he’s been beat, or perhaps fearing being beaten again, he leaves without another word.

He sees you sitting on a bench outside the reception hall and breaks into a jog, wanting to comfort you. He holds you to his chest as you gently sob. As much as you didn’t like that James was saying it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right, but you let that insecurity burrow further inside your heart as you realize something far worse. You probably just ruined your sister’s wedding.

You sit up abruptly and wipe the tears from your face, “I need to go apologize to my sister.” You run inside, leaving Eliot to slowly follow, though he washes your ex’s blood off of his hand before re-entering the reception hall.

Your eyes scan the room and finally land on your sister. The anxiety makes the words practically spill out of your mouth, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your wedding. I know I can’t make it better, but I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Both of you are crying now. “You didn’t ruin anything. I shouldn’t have let him come, even if he was dating one of the other bridesmaids. If anything you fixed the wedding by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

“Well I’m pretty sure the getting rid of him part was more Eliot than it was me.” you chuckle. He walks up behind you, as if summoned by the mention of his name.

He looks toward your sister and her now husband as he wraps his hand around yours. “I am so sorry for,” he pauses and gestures vaguely towards the spot he had pinned James, “well, all of that really.”

Your sister laughs, “No need. We’ll just call it dinner and a show, and it was quite the show.” she leans in towards you both and in a far more serious tone adds “I heard from some of the others what he was saying before. You did the right thing, you could’ve gone a bit further to teach him a lesson if you ask me.”

He looks to you, now remembering that your ex had plenty of time in his absence to say far worse than what Eliot heard. “Wish I would’ve.” he lets out a nervous laugh, still unsure where he stands with everyone else. “I’m just glad he’s gone though and can’t cause any more trouble.”

Your sister replies, “Agreed. Though maybe try not to hit anyone at the next wedding?”

“I think I can manage that.” He smiles, glad to see that everyone is still in good spirits.

The groom, also seeming to relax, throws in, “You’d better because if those flowers are anything to go by, it’ll be your own.”

Eliot wraps his arms around you, and with more sincerity than you were prepared for says, “Hopefully.”

Trying so hard not to get lost in your imaginary future with Eliot, you change the topic. “Your wedding was really beautiful by the way. Congratulations.” You hug your sister. As you pull away, you lean back against Eliot and say. “I think it’s time for us to go back to the hotel though. I think we’ve created enough of a story tonight.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Have a good night. Thank you both for coming.” Then as you walk away, your sister calls after you, loud enough for about half the room to hear, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lovebirds.”

This leads to a few hoots and hollers from the other guests, just trying to tease and embarrass you further. You flip your sister off as Eliot guides you out of the room.

• • •

Next chapter

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[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

part 3 to p1, p2

It's time to tell you exactly what makes me your soulmate. Disaster dinner continues.

20:19

Is it possible to miss someone you've never met? In what strange corner of the universe would this make sense? It felt just like that to Lando - as if he just reunited with an old friend and desperately searched for a way how to connect again. Where to start?

Anita solved that one for him. "Y//N is one of the medics on grid. She was so lovely today. Helped me a lot!" She turned to Lando and then Y/N in a search of some reaction, but those two were stuck in their own silence. She brushed it off and continued. "I figured it would be nice to take her out for a dinner. Wanted to have her join for the club later, but I am afraid it's for invited only, sorry..." she said, with fake modesty. Lando scoffed, completely unbothered by anyone noticing. Anita was doing it again, luring people in and then making sure she nonchalantly pointed out that she is more "VIP" then they are. He usually brushed it of and sometimes found it funny, but this time it made him fuming.

"You are more than kind to do this," Y/N replied and Lando had to close his eyes in order to hide how overcome he was instantly by hearing her speak. Her own voice was always blurry in his visions. Hearing it now, in real life...It was like getting new headphones. "But remember, you should not drink today after the heatstroke...I just need to point that out, can't stop myself," she said semi jokingly.

"Oh course, sweetheart," she replied and took a sip of her cocktail.

Y/N felt a little out of her place in the restaurant, not really sure what she was doing there and why she agreed to come with them. They were a couple, so why was she there playing the third violin? She tried to stop all her intrusive thoughts about Anita's boyfriend. But how could she, the most gorgeous and alluring guy was sitting right there. She secretly watched all of his little moves, the way how he twitched his fingers while holding the menu and wondered how his skin would feel on her own. She cursed herself for being so easily distracted by him. Barely glancing at the menu, she waited for what the two would order and was planning on matching them.

A charming waiter came, shared few words with Anita and recommended some dishes from the special menu.

"I'll have the truffle pasta, sounds great," Anita said, smiling flirtatiously at the waiter. There was an awkward silence, which Y/N tried to fill in. "Yes, I'll have the same, sounds great."

Lando did not even think twice before speaking up. "Um, actually, I really think you should try their salmon. It's to die for. I think you'll love it." He was not able to look at her, while she did the exact opposite. She was taken back by his forward comment. Salmon was her absolute favorite dish. What a strange coincidence that he would recommend it. "Can we get two of the salmon dishes? If that's ok with you, Y/N," he continued, this time finding the courage to look at Y/N. She panicked. "Yeah, yeah. Salmon. Great."

It was like a fire was lit in Lando. He opened the can of worms and there was no way going back. Suddenly, he had all the answers right at arms lenght. And the questions just started flowing.

"How do you like working at the formula 1 medics team?" "Will you be tracking the whole season?" "Do you like traveling so much?" "Are you missing your friends and family?"

It might have been too much for someone to be bombarded with questions, but she found herself excited and eager to overshare. Those two danced a dance of their own, laughing gently and speaking over each other, while also eagerly listening to what the other one had to say.

Anita felt like she was sinking into the chair deeper with every minute that passed. She knew the feeling all to well. Lando, without knowing probably, found anyone apart her interesting. Practically inhaling every word Y/N said. Or at least that's how it felt. Poor girl had absolutely no idea how different this situation was for her this time. Unlike Lando, Y/N still took Anita into account.

"So, Anita, you're a model, right?"

She came back alive and started sharing model related stories, while Y/N listened. Ever-so-impatient Lando just stared at her and started biting his lip in order to stop him from speaking for a moment, realizing that he is in fact not alone with Y/N, but still in a very much public social setting. Y/N listened to Anita, while all familiar phantom pain kicked in, this time in her lips. She kept glancing over to Lando, because it was just too hard not to look at him, when she noticed how vigorously he was biting his own lip. It sometimes happened that her own inexplicable pain aligned with the actions of other. Nothing special.

Lando was at the peak of rude that evening, impatience getting the better of him. "So, Y/N, why have you decided to study medicine?" he said, when Anita took a breath, fully intending on continuing her story. The same way as he interrupted her, she did not give Y/N any room to answer.

"You know what Lando, I am getting real sick of you publicly making it obvious that you don't give a shit about me or what I have to say," she said straight to his face, internally begging for him to deny it.

"I'm sorry, it's just....not every day you meet someone who really does something special with their life," he said, as if Y/N was the first medic he had ever encountered.

"Wow, that's rich. So on top of you not caring what I have to say, you also don't think what I do is interesting."

Lando knew she was right. He knew it all along, but he was also aware of the fact that most of the times, the relationship had been beneficial to both of them. So many emotions mixing in him got him holding his fragile glass real tight.

"Don't play the innocent card," he started, looking deeply into Anita's eyes. "We both know the moment I'm not on the grid, you're jumping to someone else."

The walls felt like they were closing on Y/N. Witnessing couple's fight, however quiet, was never pleasant. All the more when you'd literally just met these people. They played their little verbal tennis, while keeping the decorum composed, as they seemed to be quite skilled at that. Until Lando slipped up. His tight grip on the thin crystal finally ending up with a thousand tiny shiny glass pieces everywhere. It was like a slap to the couple, making them wake up and notice their surroundings. The good old clean up and apology dance began between the guests and the waiters, all of them rushing to help the F1 star with a minor cut that bled crimson drops on the white table cloth. Everybody was so focused on him, that they all missed the second wave of drops hitting the table, this time coming from Y/N hand. She stared at her hand and time stopped. It's not that she was scared of blood. It wasn't that it was the first time something like that happened out of nowhere. It was precisely because it did not happen out of nowhere. Her veins were rushing with panic, instead of blood. She grabbed one of the napkins and pressed hard on her hand, praying that nobody had noticed. Thousands of ideas appearing out of nowhere. So wait, anytime he got hurt, she got hurt as well? Or was it more people? Another coincidence? Her brain was an analytical one. She ran through all the possible little pains that a formula driver could have. It somehow checked out.

She stared at him, completely missing the whole scenery happening in front of her. Anita making a scene, waiters rushing around and Lando trying to calm everyone down.

"When did you crash last time? Like a big one, hospital one," she shot out, as if it was the most important piece of information known to mankind.

Lando felt her panic and intensity for a few moments before she managed to silence everyone, but was equally surprised by her question as everyone else.

"Um, I'd say...yeah, Las Vegas, November." He gave her a questioning look, trying to figure out what was going on her mind, while gesturing the staff of the restaurant to leave them alone.

A massive wave of panic settled over her, images of herself getting admitted to a hospital at that time flashing by. She had to get out there, immediately. And Lando felt that.

"No! No, you're not going anywhere. This is important, you can't just run away like you always do," he said, before she even had a chance to move, because he knew what she was doing. Seen it enough times to recognize the look. If nobody stopped her, she'd be out of there in seconds, not even saying goodbye. A true flight type of person. As if she hadn't been perplexed enough by this point.

"How do you-" she started to ask before being interrupted by Anita, who had have enough.

"I'm sorry, but do you guys know each other?" she asked, with a tone of annoyance barely hidden behind a fake smile.

Lando froze once again, like he had many times that evening. It was not his fault. His soon-to-not-be girlfriend set this seventh circle of hell up. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Y/N hesitantly responded. "No, of course not. I mean, I've only worked with the team here for few weeks anyway."

"Seems like you do, by the amount of questions you're asking" Anita said directly at Lando, fully ignoring Y/N at that point.

"If I had known her, I would not have had to ask questions, right?" he responded, failing at letting his sassy side dormant.

"Is that why you never ask me any questions? Because you know me?"

He bit his tongue. Lando was trying to be good.

Anita made her signature "I knew it" smile once again, which finally set Lando off.

"One asks when they want to hear an answer."

"Great. Charming as ever. You know what? I've had enough."

"Ani, I am really sorry. This is going to sound incredibly rude. I apologize. It's nothing personal. But this is really between me and Y/N."

Absolutely mortified Y/N did not even dare to look at Anita. What the fuck was his game. That was his girlfriend, she was just a random girl.

Anita replied, without missing a beat. "You two can go and play your weird little game without me."

Heavy silence fell, as Anita hastily grabbed all of her things and walked out. Y/N was waiting to see if Lando would even consider getting up and rushing over to her, but knew well enough that that was not the case.

Lando cared. He deeply cared about what Y/N thought of him. "Before I say anything else, please know that I plan on breaking up with her and sorting it out like an adult. This is not how I usually am."

"Ok. I mean, you do you. This is all very...personal," she said, her mind still caught up in her recent discovery. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound strange, but bare with me, this evening is already so much drama, this will not be a great addition."

She was talking to him! Getting curious. Lando would be willing to sit there for hours and listen to her. "Go for it".

"Do you get that weird pain in your left elbow?"

"Yes, after a heavy work out."

"Do you bite your tongue out of nowhere?"

"Only when I'm nervous."

"Ok, ehm. Your wisdom tooth is growing, right?"

"Yup, and it hurts like hell sometimes." This time, it was her shooting questions and him trying to follow in a direction he could not yet fathom. But it was like she was in a trance.

"Ok, ok. You'll think I'm crazy."

"I know you think that," he smirked, knowing they were reaching break through.

"What?" she snapped out of it back to reality.

"You first. I think I also have something you should know." Lando was half excited, half terrified to get his truth out. After all those years, this was all happening in a matter of hours. His life was turning upside down.

Y/N took a deep breath. "The reason I went into medicine is because I have a condition. Random inexplicable pains, cuts, bruises with no real cause of correlation to what's happening with my body. Nobody knew what it was when I was growing up, so I was determined to figure it out on my own." She took out her own blood stained hand from below the table. Lando's eye's went wide. She reached out with her other hand to gesture him that all is fine and no help is needed.

"I think my body mirrors what happens to yours."

"I can feel your emotions. And see glimpses of your life," he blurted out, unable to hold this in for any longer.

//

They did not stay in the restaurant for long. Felt all to public for this type of conversation. Instead, they were back at his hotel apartment, having to sneak in to avoid any unwanted publicity. Once again, they were sitting opposite each other in his living room area.

"So wait...you feel everything I feel? Like physically?"

"Apparently," she said, flabbergasted. For some reason, the two emotions mixing with each other was anger and relief. Her biggest life mystery solved, in the weirdest way possible. Without saying a word, she kicked him in the shin.

"Ouch," he said and she flinched.

"Yep, checks out."

"I can feel your anger, you know? And frankly I don't understand why you're mad at the moment." He was fascinated. The possibilities that laid ahead of them were thrilling.

"I believe at this stage you should also be able to see my anger. Pray tell me why, why did you have to pick a career that is so physically exhausting!" she moaned, causing him to laugh out loud. Yeah, that was really unfortunate on his part. He made a note mentally to hire a physical therapist for her one day.

She calmed down a bit, slowly coming to term that her emotions were not a private thing anymore - well, technically they never were.

"So what, you just casually know what I feel and see random glimpses of my life?"

"I think it's the strong emotions I feel. It seems the closer I am, the stronger it is."

She was silent, hoping to get a little more out of him. He took a deep breath, desperately trying to ease up the mood.

"Your first nights at the university apartment you shared with those three loud girls. No idea about their names, but I remember the excitement about leaving your home. And jesus, the massive mess the four of you made the first week. How at one point you had to wash your dishes in the bathtub, because it was just too much. And how much fun you'd had while doing it."

She couldn't help but smile at that very specific memory. Gone were the unhinged early uni days, for better probably. It was absolutely breaking her mind in two, knowing he had these random glimpses in her life.

He saw (and felt) the positive emotions that entered the chat, so he tried to sway the conversation that way. "Oh, and the incredibly awkward morning when your brought that one guy home, did not realize that one of the girls was in the room the whole time and how in the morning it turned out to be her ex."

"My god, you saw that?" she said, absolutely mortified. He just nodded, his heart jumping when he made her squeamish.

"It was like being there during the incredibly awkward breakfast."

"Well," she gulped, trying to switch attention from her. "Nobody knows this, but...pain is not the only thing I feel."

She dropped the ball and watched it rolling, wondering if he'd catch up.

"What do you mean? Like exhaustion?"

"That as well."

He was still not connecting the dots.

"Had a fun night last night, didn't you?"

His eyes went wide and a strange rush of guilt washed over him. He just stared at her, finally getting why one of her first reactions was an angry one. Not that he felt that way, but the level of intrusion he must have presented to her was a lot to take in.

"Well...you're welcome, I guess?" he said cheekily, smirking because he knew exactly what she would do.

Shocked, she opened her mouth and smacked his hand jokingly, not realizing it would hurt both of them.

"Fuck this shit," she exclaimed and once again, he could not hold his laugh in as she tried to shake the pain out of her hand.

"This is going to be very funny."

"I'm sorry, Lando - this all just so bizarre. I'm barely taking it in. Literally don't understand how you're so calm."

He laughed gently. "Well, I did have few extra days to process. And hearing my name roll of your tongue is distracting enough," he said flirtatiously.

Her cheeks went red and her mind stopped, mind getting filled with desire and arousal. Lando lips turned into a wide smile, him feeling her arousal as if she was screaming it loudly to his face.

"Glad to see my words have an effect on you. This is indeed going to be fun..."

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Earned (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content, dom/sub foreplay Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After a bad day at work, Benedict intuits what you need to regain your confidence.

Author's Note: I don't know what this is. It just played out in my head tonight 🤷‍♀️ A little emotional dom filth.

Relief was already seeping in as you skipped up the stairs to his flat. Thank god this was one of your scheduled days. You would have been tempted to send him a desperate text otherwise. Your day had been so shitty, so full of blame and scorn and disappointment that it was making you question your worth in your profession. Though a decade of exceptional experience was there to prove you wrong, one error and one pissed off client was potent enough to nearly topple your self-esteem. You needed connection, release. Above all, you needed someone to value you.

A rapid knock on his door and he swung it open, a glass of whisky in hand, dressed in black with burning eyes. He was some kind of luciferian temptor and you were so grateful to have found him. He beckoned you inside and took your coat. His obnoxiously chic surroundings were bathed in dim light. This was your routine. He’d always be waiting for you in the glow, drink at the ready. It was transactional, but you liked that. No need to muddle through social niceties or feel out when the other person was ready to progress. You both knew precisely what you were there for, though you hadn’t given it a label. 

You had met through a string of acquaintances when someone told him to email you for professional advice. You hadn’t been able to help him but your written banter was so friendly it carried over into texts, then into a meeting where you were nearly paralyzed by how attractive he was. Tall, lean, cocksure with dark hair and sparkling eyes - he was a checklist of everything you found attractive. It was hard to say at what point the text conversations turned dirty. He probably tried to one-up you in a playful sparring match by suddenly issuing commands. All you knew was that your hands started shaking with excitement when you realized he was a dom. You went along eagerly, elated to have found a man, and one as unbelievably handsome as him, that you could play with. The texts soon turned into sessions, the two of you giving over to the full expression of your sexual desires with a freedom you had never experienced before. He made you want him more desperately and come more relentlessly than any predecessor. He was an addiction, a cure-all that soon became a necessary realignment for your brain and body to function normally otherwise.

He snaked a broad hand up the curve of your shoulder, under your hair to your nape and rounded to stand in front of you. His eyes were full of menace but it melted away immediately once he read your face.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

Not a commanding opener but truth be told, this was why you adored him so much. He was intuitive, an interpreter of your moods who never failed to give you the precise cocktail of control and praise you needed. You knew you must have looked as awful as you felt.

You closed your eyes, annoyed to feel the hot sting of tears at their edges. “Please, Ben,” you pleaded. And that was all you had to say. You opened your eyes at the sound of his footsteps walking away. He moved to the coffee table in the lounge and set down his drink, then turned to you again. His face was set in that beautiful mask of control you had been longing for all day. All angled shadows and glints of light off his eyes and hair.

“Take off your dress.” He growled. 

Without a moment’s hesitation you unzipped it and pulled it over your head.

“Shoes.”

You stepped out of your heels, now standing in his entryway in nothing but your bra and knickers. 

“Will you do as you’re told?” He arched a brow. It wasn’t a real question, it was a signal. The official start of playtime. Nearly shivering with gratitude, you sank to your knees in a submissive pose, lowering your head until further instruction was given.

Slowly, he traipsed back to tower in front of you. You almost wept when you felt the spread of his massive hand rest gently on the top of your head. He trailed it through your hair and around to cup your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. 

“Are you a needy little thing tonight?” Set under his stern brow, his eyes lit with concern. It never ceased to amaze you how he could do that, hold multiple expressions simultaneously. He was playing his role, but his attentiveness was undeniable.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, your voice small.

“Did you do something bad?” There he went, intuiting everything just the way you needed him to. Still holding your chin he slipped his thumb between your lips. You welcomed it into your mouth as he hooked it against your bottom teeth, letting you suckle. It was cool from the ice in his glass. You nodded and looked up at him, eyes begging for absolution.

“So you want forgiveness?” His voice was a soft rumble.

You licked the tip of his finger and pulled back. “I want to please you, sir. I want to know I did a good job.”

He released his hold. “Go get my drink.” 

You started to rise to your feet.

“Did I say you could stand?” He barked and immediately you dropped back to your knees. A shiver curved your spine and broke gooseflesh across your skin as you began to crawl on all fours into the lounge. This was what you needed. Subjugation. Punishment. To be told what to do by someone you actually respected, with the reassurance that you would always be rewarded in the end. This was the realignment necessary to overcome the wretchedness of your day.

You felt his gaze burning into your backside and made sure to crawl as sensually as you could, swaying your hips until you reached the coffee table. You hadn’t realized he was following softly behind you until you picked up the glass of whisky and felt a hand on your waist. You froze, balancing on three limbs while you held the drink in the other. His fingers splayed across your bottom, kneading it as you felt him crowd over you. He was on his knees too, lying across your back and enveloping you with his heat.

“So you want to do a good job?” He murmured in your ear. He was so all-encompassing, his voice so laden with silk and dark promise that you faltered, locking your elbow. “Don’t spill.” He chuckled. Then the hand moved to trace the gusset of your underwear, already damp from his commands alone. You could hear the haughty smile in his voice as he shoved the fabric aside and slid two fingers into your folds. “How about you take all of me in here?” he hummed. “You are so very good at that. Lie back and do a good job just letting me fuck you senseless.” His teeth clamped on the rim of your ear.

His touch instantly clouded your mind, your hips already gyrating to match his movements. But you knew you needed to be more than just a recipient of his attentions that night. You needed to work for your own redemption. 

“Sir…” you slurred as his slender fingers began circling your clit.

“Speak up.” His other hand suddenly tugged your hair, bending your neck until you faced forward.

“I want to…I’d like it to be my actions that bring you pleasure.” You gasped.

Your hair was released but he toyed with your swollen bud for a moment longer. “I see.” With an air of nonchalance he removed his hand and stood. “Turn around and give me my whisky.” You did so, pivoting to kneel before him and offer up the glass with both hands. You felt like a supplicant, bringing offerings to a god in hopes that your soul would be cleansed. 

“Excellent,” he grinned his ruinous crooked smile. “Already you are doing so well.” He lifted the glass from your hands to his lips. You breathed heavily, acutely aware of the slick mess he had caused between your thighs as you watched him down the dark liquor in one swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously in the center of his strong neck.

With a satisfied sigh he looked back at you and licked his lips. You knew it was more intentional than reflexive, but it worked to make you clench.

“How else do you want to please me?” he asked, his voice the very definition of sin.

You were completely in his thrall, completely uninhibited in sharing your true desires. “I’d like to suck your cock, sir.”

He smirked, bringing a hand to rest on your head. “Oh yes? You want this?” In one fluid motion he guided your face into the seam of his expensive trousers, thrusting his hips lightly so you could feel his stiffening cock through the fine fabric. 

You nuzzled into it, your favorite plaything, practically salivating as the heat and scent of him flooded your senses. “Yes, sir.” 

He continued to grind into your face, his long fingers mussing your hair. “You want to serve me on your knees and choke on my cock until I am satisfied? Until you know you’ve earned my approval because I’m coming down your throat?”

“Yes, sir, very much,” you moaned, ready to start licking him through his clothing. You had been thinking about this all day, craving the taste of Benedict, the fullness of him in your mouth and the encouraging, needy noises he would make as you proved your talent. In the morass of your awful day, all you had wanted was to be the sole focus of someone powerful who would be awed by your abilities and loud with their appreciation.

He pulled back, clearly aroused but not letting his veneer slip. His hand dropped to stroke your cheek and he held your gaze intently. “Alright. How can I refuse? You are so very good at what you do.” He leaned closer, his voice commanding but his eyes carrying that same softness that he could never disguise. “I never want you questioning that, do you understand?”

You whimpered, overcome by a swirling gale of gratitude and lust. With his incredible beauty and predilection for play that was compatible with yours, you were already lucky enough to find Benedict as a partner. You could never have expected that he would bring his kindness into your sessions as well. That he would use his incomparable knack for ferreting out your true needs and fulfill them with his words, his body, or both simultaneously. The events of the day had made you question whether fate was on your side, but looking at Benedict silenced those doubts immediately.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, vowing to obey.

With a smile he straightened and reached for his fly.

No tags, just goofin.

[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 10 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 11

Summary : You are there for him in the moments of insecurities.

Warning: mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, self deprecating behaviour, Melissa, some much needed steam , 5k words (if I was dividing this chapters we would have had 15 chapters by now), Discussion of Erectile dysfunction and Impotency (it will make sense i promise)

“I’m here to take revenge for last night, you lied to me sweetheart, you didn’t think I’d let it slide so easily, did you?”

You looked where you thought he was because you could feel the heat radiating off his body or in his case, the cold breeze. He smiled as he saw your confused expression so he placed his finger on your jawline and turned your face so you were looking right at him. Of course you couldn't really respond to him and he was going to have so much fun with that prospect but at first he had to make sure you were comfortable with him causing such nuisance, the last thing he wanted to do was irk you with his behavior.

He noticed the black cocktail dress that went past your thighs and you looked divine as usual, he hardly ever saw you in colors that weren't black.

You gulped as his arms wrapped around you again and he placed his lips on your neck to suck on it lightly, both of your palms clenched onto the edge of the counter, he was going to be the death of you today but boy you'd be lying if you said that you weren't just thinking about him and had not desperately wished for him to be there. Strangers and social situations always made you anxious so him being there was calming for your soul even though he came there to mess with you.

You wondered if people could tell you were getting your neck sucked like this, probably not

"Princess" he whispered in your ear before he kissed your earlobe so you hummed in your mouth, thankfully nobody had their eyes on you, except that weird guy from 5th floor who couldn't stop staring at you.

"Is this alright? I can leave if this is bothersome, i would never want to hurt you like that" your mouth opened slightly as he said. You didn't want him to leave. Please don't leave.

You looked up and shook your head lightly, hoping he'd understand the gesture.

"I'll stay" a small smile crept on your lips as he said that.

"Hii…Y/n can you make a sandwich for your mom?" Mrs Geller said to you so you nodded. Why were you nodding still?

"Yeah ofcourse…ummm should we get the music going? You know danciiiiinhgg" You said excitedly as you rolled around your arms, hitting Loki right in his torso. It probably just felt like a tickle to him though. You walked towards the living room and before she could even answer you used the stereo to play the music and you made sure it was loud.

This way you could pretend to lipsync without being suspicious. You stepped back into the kitchen and got behind the counter to make the sandwich and then you felt him holding onto you from behind, his lips latched onto your neck again and your hands were starting to shake because of the tingling sensations you were feeling all over your body. And inside your body.

"Loud noises, nice play darling, but it's still not going to be enough"

"I'm going to kill you" you mumbled as you bobbed your head to the rhythm of the music and he chuckled

"But what if I kill you first?" you gasped at the comment but you had no time to react because your mom was walking right towards you. Why did that comment arouse you? You had issues.

"Let me know if at any point of time you'd want me to turn her into a frog"

You chuckled as he whispered in your ear and your mom looked at you confused,

"What happened?"

"Uhhhh nothing..just .. some people look so funny when they're dancing" she turned around to look but nobody was actually dancing there.

"Here…are you having fun?" You asked her as you passed her the sandwich so she smiled.

"Yeah you know Becky wants me to stay here, girls night she said" she giggled so you smiled at her. You were so used to calling Mrs Geller as Mrs Geller that you almost forgot she had an actual name.

"But I told her that I was going to stay with you sooo" Oh no stay here. Stay here. That way Loki could spend the night at yours.

You felt his fingers playing with the zipper of your dress and you gulped as he lowered them down a little.

"Maybe I should take this off right now and put you in my clothes, haven't stopped thinking about it since last night sweetheart"

"Ohhh dear God" you mumbled so your mom looked at you all perplexed.

"Is everything alright with you? You look drained"

Not drained. Wet. You were wet.

"No I just..you can stay here, I mean you guys have become such good friends right?" she hummed as she munched on her sandwich.

"Friends? Like us?" He whispered

"Definitely not like us"

"What?"

"I mean that she likes you so much and it would mean alot to her, it's her birthday and you know..her husband passed away a few years ago, she's lonely" you said to her and her face contorted in sadness.

"That's so sad, okay maybe i'll stay here"

You smiled so wide as she said that, she went back to the living space to tell her that she was going to be staying here. Thanks Mrs Geller.

"You want something to eat?" You mumbled as you looked down so other people won't see you talking to yourself.

"No but you need to be fed, make one for yourself"

"Not hungry"

"Do it"

"Yes sir"

Erection charm stat.

He couldn't stop touching you while you were making the sandwich, his hands trailed down from the side of your waist and you took a deep breath as his fingers pulled your dress up and caressed the insides of your thigh.

"Look at you, you're trembling like a leaf" he whispered in your ear and it only made the matters worse for you.

"I know you adore my cold temperature but I always wonder if you'd be sensitive to extreme cold" you glared at him as he said that. "Perhaps i should put the theory to a test" he conjured an ice cube and you felt it rubbing against your bare back, it almost knocked the wind out of your chest. Your knees felt weak, if it wasn't for him holding you so tightly you probably would have collapsed.

"I wish I could watch you suck on it" "Okay alright"

You got away from his hold because you felt afraid you'd moan or do something worse, grabbing the plate of your sandwich you stepped out of her kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

Mrs Geller asked you so you smiled so widely that it seemed unnatural.

"I'll be right back I just uhhh..i don't like eating in front of people " she looked at you for a moment before she shrugged

"Ohh okay come back though..we have cake "

"Definitely I'll be right back " you walked out of her apartment and quickly went into yours, you kept the door open and you smelled his cologne as he walked in, that's when you shut the door with a thud and he made himself visible. His long hair seemed as if he had just shampooed it, he was in his Asgardian garb, a long black tunic with the same colored pants, you walked towards the kitchen to put the sandwich down, glaring at him all the way.

"You think you're funny huh?" You stormed him so he smiled.

As soon as you reached closer he picked you up in his arms and kissed you as passionately as he could, it's been more than 24 hours and you had tortured him last night with that little teasing play.

He sat down on the sofa with you on top of his lap in the usual position.

"That was a reckless thing to do" you mumbled between the heated kisses and it made him smile.

"Well I am reckless"

You got even closer to him, almost sitting on his crotch , your hips moved slowly on him and the moan that escaped deep from his chest was something that would keep you wet and your fingers working late at night. But then you didn't feel anything as you moved against him, he wasn't hard, like at all, now you may not have had plenty of experience in this department, you hardly ever stayed zoned in whenever you had sex with those men, by men you meant those two men you actually dated but atleast you knew he was supposed to be hard. Right?

You pulled away from him and shifted yourself back onto his thighs

"What happened?" He asked you so you smiled, your lips latched onto his neck and he leaned his head back on the couch as you placed your hand on his clothed cock and rubbed it slowly.

Should he stop using the charm? You wanted to touch him right?

You pulled away from him and he was looking at your hand movements while you were looking at him

"Lo?"

"Mmmhmm"

"Oh baby ..it's okay " you cooed to him and it only confused him further.

"What?"

"You know..that " you gestured towards his cock and it took him a few second to realize what you meant. Did you really think he couldn't get an erection? You pressed a soft kiss on his cheek then you pecked his lips to comfort him, you just hoped he wasn't embarassed by it, maybe you shouldn't have pointed it out.

"So it is okay that I can not get it…up?" you looked at him as he said that.

"Ohhh honey..it is okay..it's alright, it really doesn't matter" he chuckled at the response.

"It does not matter?"

"I mean it's more common than you think..it happens alot..yeahh" you brought your hands up and started to massage his shoulders for some reason, you seemed nervous and you were trying to not hurt him in anyways. Okay maybe he can have a little fun with this.

"Well it would certainly matter when I am not able to fulfill your desires" you bit on your lip as he said that,

"Umm has it always been this way?"

"Ofcourse not, it's only since I found out about my heritage, it is some kind of defect in our genes, we can not get it up for some reason" ohh that's why you never felt him get an erection while you two cuddled so intimately.

"Ohh I'm sorry baby, it's going to be okay I promise" he bit on his cheek to hide his smile as you comforted him with sweet words and gentle kisses, your fingers caressed his scalp.

"That is it, that is all you have to say?"

"Mmmhmmm"

"So you do not care about this?"

"I care about you lo"

Okay he started this joke but now he was actually getting sentimental. Were you really just going to be okay if he actually was impotent?

"What about sex, your needs? I'm assuming we were going to do that at some point" you looked into his eyes as he said that.

"Well there are ways.. several other ways, it's really not a big deal for me I swear to god, i swear on you" you assured him again and it made him smile, his eyes did seem teary though.

"You're so precious my darling" he cupped your cheeks and kissed you as passionately as he could, his fingers waved once and then he grabbed your hand to put it back on his crotch.

"Lo I know.." you were going to say something to comfort him further but then you felt it, you felt him hardening instantly at your touch. God of mischief right? Ofcourse he was messing with you.

"I see..that was a prank"

He smirked as you said that but as you started to rub your hand up and down, the smugness was wiped off his face

"I was using a charm all this time" he gulped as the sensation began to build in the pit of his stomach, why was he such a putty in your hands?

"Why?"

"To..ahhhh–" he moaned as you cupped his bulge with your hand, he felt so big, you have never felt anything like this before "Didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable"

"Well who is precious now?" You cooed in his ears.

"I am still in awe of you willing to stay with me despite that situation" you tilted his head as she said that and then you stopped touching him.

"What kind of girl do you think I am? Do you think I'll just ditch you if you're having some stupid performance issues?" You crossed your arms and he sighed.

"Well isn't fornication an important aspect of a romantic relationship?" He asked as he tucked your hair behind your ears and caressed your cheek with his fingers because he could feel you were starting to get agitated a little.

"Look loki ummm.. would you leave me if I was ..ummm.. Wait, what's the female equivalent of erectile dysfunction?" you got off his lap as you started to think about it "Oh my god there's nothing.. ohh wow you guys really do have to stress about this thing huh?" He smiled as you said that.

"I don't..i am a god"

"Ofcourse"

"Come here" he raised his hand forward so you sighed before you placed yours on his and sat down on his lap again.

"Would you leave me if for some reason I can't have sex with you?"

"Noo"

"Well why? Isn't hornyfication an important aspect of a romantic relationship?" He smiled and cupped your cheeks to kiss you before he answered.

"Someone once said that there are several other ways to derive pleasure"

"Are you stealing all my answers?"

"Yes, because you're so good at them"

You giggled as he said that.

"No but really answer me, would you not want me anymore if I couldn't do it the traditional way for some reason? By calling it traditional I'm assuming that's how you do it in Asgard and frost planet as well..like the whole dick in vagina process" he laughed as you said that.

"I'd always want you sweetheart, because there is a friendship involved and I value that relationship more than anything"

"Okay I'm going to steal your answer and say ditto" he smiled.

" Besides we are just friends who kiss sometimes"

"And don't see other people" you retorted.

"And don't see other people"

You smiled and kissed him again, you weren't lying to him or trying to get into his good books, you just cared about him way too much to let anything ruin this bond for you two. He was a precious baby and deserved all the love, you were glad though that he was able to get hard because you weren't able to stop touching his bulge since he had magicked the magic away from it.

"I'm afraid I would do something dirty if you'd continue to touch me like this" he giggled but his breathing got heavier as you gave him a squeeze "Call me baby again "

"Awnnn you like that?"

"Mmmhmmm it makes me feel so small, so tiny in your arms"

"Well you're anything but small, I can tell you that little babyyy" you whispered in his ear and he placed his head between the crook of your neck to suck on it

"Ohhhh darling"

"Are you going to stay the night?"

"That is so licentious of you madame"

You chuckled as he said that. You were going to pretend you understood whatever he meant by the word.

"I had to beg Thor to bring me here, I can stay but I'll have to leave early in the morning"

"Godd make me stop..i can't stop" you bit on your lips as you continued to caress his clothed cock so he grabbed your hand and lifted it up, you both needed a moment to calm down after that "Mmmm well atleast I got you for a few hours and Mrs Geller is keeping my mom so yayyyy" you kissed his forehead and he purred like a kitten.

"Did you tell Thor that you appreciate his help?"

You questioned him as you got off his lap. You really wanted to eat that sandwich now. Wow being horny sure made you hungry.

"Noo" his voice came out so meek so you looked at him. Their relationship always bothered you, you knew both of them cared about each other but so much had happened that it must have been difficult for them to talk to each other now.

"He's doing something nice for you..just tell him you appreciate it, that's it" you told him so he hummed. You took a bite of the sandwich and it was so good you couldn't possibly deprive him of that could you?

"You eat this one, I'll bring more, I don't think we need dinner after this oooh and there's cake" he smiled at your excitement so you leaned down to kiss him briefly before you went back to Mrs Geller apartment.

That night he stayed and you cuddled him like usual, the only problem was he wasn't really trying to hide his beastly erection anymore so it kept rubbing against you all night, you barely got any sleep, how could you when all you wanted to do was hump against him like a bitch in heat.

As soon as he went back to the tower he had to go train with Cap. For some reason Rogers was in a nasty mood today so he took it all out on Loki, there were several cuts and bruises on his face and he looked way worse than he usually did.

"Gotta say your brother is a better fighter than you any given day" Rogers said to him but he ignored it. He could have killed him right there if he wanted but he didn't want to waste his energy. As he stepped out of the training room he found Melissa and Thor chatting up like old buddies in the hallway. What in the name of hornyfication?

"Geee were you both trying to kill each other in there?" Thor smirked as he looked at Loki, Melissa came forward and tried to touch his cheeks but he stepped away,

"Awnn baby you're hurt"

"I'm not a baby, I'm a god, address me as such"

"Calm down Loki, she's your lady, respect her" Thor teased him, he probably found the situation funny but Loki didn't find it amusing at all. There was an awkward silence amongst the three before Thor spoke again

"Oh I have to go polish my hammer, have a good day lady Melissa, pleasure talking to you" Thor took her hand to give it a formal kiss, making loki roll his eyes.

Loki was about to walk past her but she spoke out of turn again.

"You know your brother is so much better than you could ever dream to be Loki?" he didn't miss the venom dripping from her words

"Then why don't you go fuck him?" He was done being respectful.

"I wish I could, he's so much hotter and sexier, so manly, and ohhh he would never get so bruised like a peach in a fight, no wonder he wasn't discarded at birth and no wonder your daddy picked him over you all your life" she smiled as she finished her sentence before she walked past him.

He shouldn't have allowed her words to affect him, she meant nothing to him and she just wanted to hurt him for whatever agenda she had ongoing but her words still reminded him of who he was, he was the second best, the villain, he could never achieve greatness in his pathetic life because he was merely a pawn in everyone's game.

He stood under the cold shower and tried to forget about the whole day, he truly wished he was free to just stay with you, at least you won't hurt him like this.

He walked towards the mirror and those bruises somehow made him look uglier, he slowly morphed into his jotun form, his natural form, but he couldn't even look at himself for longer than a few moments, that bald protruded head, those monstrous ruby eyes and those scales on his skin only made him feel disgusted. His eyes welled up even more as he continued to look at himself.

He felt so alone in the moment, all he wanted to do was talk to you and hear your voice so he quickly put on pants and sat down on his bed to dial your number.

"Hi, are you missing me already?" He heard your voice and it made him smile between the tears,

"I always do" he heard you smiling at the comment.

"Lo I'm going out with mom and Mrs Geller so I won't be able to talk but, can I see you later? She'll leave in the evening" he nodded as you said that but you couldn't see him, he wished you could have stayed longer and he knew you would have if he was to tell you the truth about how he was feeling at the moment.

"Sure darling" you smiled as he said that, for some reason he sounded sad, maybe you were overthinking but his voice didn't have the usual chirp

"Are you okay ?"

"Yes I am Princess, enjoy your day, I'll see you soon hopefully" he lied to you and you paused for a few seconds before you answered him.

"Okay ummm..I.. take care okay?"

"You do that too"

He hung up the phone and now you felt anxious, why did you have to go right now? Maybe he wanted to talk about something?

You tried to keep yourself distracted throughout the day but his sad voice kept ringing in your head, you almost yelled and screamed at your mom when she started to discuss how much she hated Loki and why she thought his image makeover was just another political agenda.

When she finally left you decided to shower and you kept looking at your phone to see if he'd call but he didn't, you even dialed on the telephone number but he didn't pick up either.

"Aren't you going to see your lady today?" Thor asked him, he was looking for Loki and he was nowhere to be found so he went to the roof and there he was, sitting on the ledge as usual. It always terrified him whenever he found him there because of what had happened that night on the bifrost.

"Oh I just saw her, I am assuming you're talking of lady Melissa right?" Loki snapped at him so Thor sighed deeply.

"I was just joking, lighten up" he chuckled.

"Your jokes have never been humourous Thor"

"Look i didn't come here to fight, if you want to go see lady y/n now is the time" Loki stood up, ofcourse he wanted to see you and hug you, and kiss you.

"Where do you go after you drop me off?"

Loki questioned him and Thor's face flushed all of a sudden.

"Nowhere, i come back here"

Loki squinted his eyes at the response, he knew Thor was lying but he didn't want to get into it for now.

You were in the kitchen making tea when you heard the knock on your window so you ran towards it. You smiled as you looked at him but you noticed those awful cuts and bruises on his face.

"You are hurt" you made him sit down on the sofa and he sighed.

"It will heal"

"How did you get hurt lo?"

"Captain was in a sour mood, he went hard on me"

"And you.. didn't fight back?"

"I didn't want to"

"Why??"

"I don't know"

"You're a god, you're much stronger than them all, don't let them treat you like this" You huffed as you said that, your eyes seemed teary though "Besides what are they even training you for? You are a prince, have been in battles and wars, you know how to fight"

His brows furrowed as he looked at you, the puppy look on his face immediately melted your anger so you climbed on his lap, you weren't angry with him but for him and he understood that but he didn't want you to be so upset because of him.

"Is that why you called, you felt hurt, that's why you called?"

He nodded so you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, then you placed soft kisses on his cheeks one by one, making sure to kiss all those wounds before you pecked his lips

"Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't look up as you questioned him, a tear rolled down from his left eyes so you wiped it with your thumb

"What's bothering you baby, talk to me" his arms wrapped around your waist and he put his head down on your chest for a moment before he hid his face between the crook of your neck.

You immediately embraced him in a bear hug. He told you what Rogers said and what that horse Melissa said to him. How dare she say something so cruel to him? She was lucky you weren't there at the time.

"You are not going to listen to her and take her lies to your heart are you? She's just being nasty because you won't give her the attention she thinks she deserves from you" you said to him in an affirmative tone.

"But she didn't lie, did she? She said what I have heard all my life, he's better than me, he always has been and the only person who never discriminated between us was our mother, but in the end she chose him didn't she? She chose him over me" your eyes welled up at his words, his mother claimed to love him but if she really did then why didn't she tell him the truth? Why did she allow her childrens to hate on Frost Giants when she knew Loki himself was the one? Probably it wasn't your place to judge but you were judging her.

"And how unfortunate that is lo? Not for you but for them, I'm sorry you were made to feel as if you were someone to be forgotten like that but you are not, you are Loki, you're a god, a majestic powerful god and you deserve to be treated like one, you deserve to be loved for who you are and I don't know about everyone else but I'll always choose you over anyone else, always" he sniffled before he placed his head down on your chest again.

Maybe that's all he needed to hear today, he just needed to be chosen for once, he just needed to be prioritized and that need couldn't have been fulfilled by just anyone, he desired it from you, only you. You once said to him that you wanted to be there for your man for those rough and difficult moments, he knew you surely meant it and those weren't just words. He stayed engulfed in your arms like a child for as long as he needed before he pulled away,

"For a god I sure do weep a lot " you smiled as he complained.

"And that's absolutely fine, crying is good you see, you feel better now?"

"A little, but not enough" he mumbled so you kissed his forehead then his nose and finally his lips.

"You look so pretty, your cheeks are flushed, lips so red, you're the prettiest thing I ever known of"

"I am not" he wasn't looking at you but playing with the fabric of your shirt as he spoke, your words definitely made him feel bashful.

"Okay maybe I can pamper you some more, would you like that?" You asked him and that made him look up, he didn't miss the tender voice you were putting on just for him, he had always desired to be treated like this so when it was finally happening he couldn't even believe his luck.

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Would you like more kisses maybe or hugs? Cuddles? Or maybe something naughty" you whispered in his ear before your lips trailed down to his neck. He was squirming in your hold and you couldn't fathom how a god was so affected by your touch, did you really affect him this way or he was just too nice to deny you?

"Explain Naughty, what does it entails?" he asked you so you smirked before you lifted your hips up and scooted even closer to him so you were sitting on his crotch,

"A bit of this" your hips gyrated back and forth and it made him moan ever so timidly, his cheeks were flushed again, as much as you hated those bruises on his face they did give him an edge, he looked so battered and hurt and you just wanted to keep pampering him in every way until he was all healed and happier.

Your palm cupped his bulge and he placed his head down on the back of the sofa, you felt his fingers digging in your hips but it wasn't hurtful, far from it.

"A bit of that" you mumbled against his mouth before you kissed down from his jawline,

"Darling" he let out a whiny little noise of resistance so you looked at him "I want this, I do…norns I want you to keep going..I just.."

"Too soon?" You asked him so he shook his head. It wasn't too soon for him but maybe it was for you, you wanted to take things slow and he knew once you both were to indulge in anything this sexual he wouldn't be able to stop and he didn't want to do anything with you that you'd regret later, you meant too much to him for you to regret him like that.

"It's okay baby, it's ok" you stopped teasing him and cupped his cheeks to kiss him as lovingly as you could "Goddd you're so cute" you giggled.

"Cuter than those puppies you seem to adore?"

You looked at him as he questioned, a devious smile evident on his face

"Equally cute..okay moreeeee" you mumbled nervously and it made him chuckle but then his eyes moistened again.

"Thank you princess "

"Well it's just the truth"

"No..for.. everything..i really needed this"

"You have me lo, i promise, i have you baby" he sighed in contentment as you hugged him tightly.

A part of him wanted to reveal everything there was to him, all those ugly parts that he wanted to show you, perhaps you'd still find him cute in his natural state, it certainly was a wishful thinking but there was a possibility that it could happen or maybe he'd make you feel disgusted, maybe you wouldn't want to touch him at all once you see him all blue and bald and scaly, that possibility scared him, but he knew he'd never show you those parts of him again if you'd feel offended by his true self, he knew if you were to be disgusted by his real self then he'd willingly suffocate and kill that giant inside him just to appease you.

He knew he'd do anything for you as long as you'd continue to hold him and care for him like this. And that's what scared him the most.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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[mamawasatesttube]

oh my god I need to tell you. so I. a while ago I did a whole bunch of research on touch starvation. and did you know babies literally die if they aren't touched and held. and did you know regular physical contact between a child and their caretakers is important for the child being able to self-regulate their emotions. and did you know that when someone hugs a child what happens is it syncs up their nervous systems. if the child is upset or scared their heart rate calms and they produce less stress hormones etc. and through that the child's body learns to do that on its own. so babies that die from lack of physical touch are literally dying of too much stress. and children who don't get enough touch can have problems like stunted growth, weak immune systems, low weight, and stunted mental and emotional development.

AND KON WAS GROWN IN A TUBE. HED NEVER EVER BEEN TOUCHED. AND THEN HE LIKE, ALMOST NEVER GOT TOUCHED IN A GOOD WAY

I mean granted, the scientists probably figured out a way to inject some kind of cocktail of hormones and chemicals to stimulate the physiological effects of touch so that kon developed properly but like. he never actually experienced it

Cadmus is like, we're gonna make a teenage clone in a test tube, this surely will not result in a kid so desperate for human connection that even terrible relationships will feel good to him

also I just think the first time kon got one of Martha or Jonathan's hugs he must have felt like he died and went to heaven. and at the same time felt really weird, like WHY DO I FEEL IT IN MY BONES WHY DO I WANT TO CRY

WAAAAHHHHH YEAH ABSOLUTELY YES YEAH DEFINITELY YES. touch-starved kon who doesn't even realize how desperate for human connection he is. this kills the man (me)

i just think if you put him in the middle of a group hug pile between ma, pa, and clark, he'd literally start bawling. he'd have no idea why and he'd be so embarrassed but he would just be so overwhelmed. because he has never had prolonged sustained physical affection in any healthy relationship before and he's only little and . AUGH!!!!!

incidentally the touch-starvation is part of why i think kon and bart are so so tactile especially with each other. "raised in a tube" and "raised in vr" both do not very much healthy human connection make. and bart's at least got his family around him but he still sees a kindred spirit in kon. so they will both simply snuggle even while bickering wildly about every topic under the sun just for bickering's sake. any and all friends are more than welcome to join the snugglepile; the toll is just that they have to put up with the konbart bickering game.

but god. god yeah. yeah it ruins me a little bit. he's just a little boy :( and he doesn't even know.

[libraryofantiquitea]

𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x civilian female reader

summary: you and jake go out for a drink after meeting at the hard deck the night before. you aren't at the bar for long.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! it's smut - just pure smut. cursing, grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand job, face sitting, dirty talk, and jake's ego.

word count: 4.8k

author's notes: this is my first contribution to the top gun fandom and i'm so excited! special thanks to @wildbornsiren for the set of eyes and just in general, since she's the reason i'm here. thank you for sending me pictures of glen powell until i ultimately caved.

and so much love to my fellow fightertown gals for being so supportive and welcoming!

title lovingly stolen from minus the bear’s “my time.”

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

next: pt. ii | tokyo summer

You worried that the two of you wouldn’t make it back to your place, despite it not being that long of a walk from the cocktail bar to your house. When you had said that what you needed was for Jake to take you home, he’d stood up like a shot, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and throwing probably too many bills onto the table before grabbing you by the wrist and helping you up from your chair.

He wasn’t rough with you, but you wanted him to be.

It occurred to you as the two of you walked back to your place, only periodically speaking as a manner by which to distract yourselves from the fact that you so desperately wanted to misbehave, that you hadn’t even kissed. Aside from Jake kissing you on the cheek the night before, your affections had been expressed through touch alone. Which made you even more desperate to kiss him.

The streets back to your home were relatively quiet, which would’ve made for the perfect opportunity to duck behind a tree or into the space between two buildings and make out like sex crazed and starved teenagers. But all that transpired on your brisk walk was Jake pulling you against him, and you inhaled sharply. He seemed to weigh the pros and cons of kissing you there and then, and denying himself of that just a little bit longer seemed to win out.

You felt like you might drop your keys as you tried to locate the one for the apartment. Jake stood behind you, pressed against your back - and god you could feel him - hands on your hips, breath hot in your ear as he whispered, “C’mon, baby. Hurry. Fuckin’ need you ...”

You dropped the keys. “Jake,” you gasped, head tipped back against his shoulder.

He turned you around, shoving you roughly against the still locked door. Your arms went around his neck, and he pressed his forehead against yours. You still hadn’t kissed, and you weren’t sure how much longer that you could take it. Your hips instinctively canted toward his, and he closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose before muttering a curse.

“Keys,” you murmured, lips mere centimetres from his. You wanted to kiss him so badly. But you also wanted to draw this out for as long as you could, wanting to savour the desire and the need.

“Keys,” he agreed, and reluctantly let go of you so that you could bend down and retrieve the keys from the floor.

You managed to find the correct key for the door, and when the lock clicked, you instantly turned the knob and pushed the door open, reaching behind you and grabbing a fistful of Jake’s plaid shirt as you  hauled him beyond the threshold.

No turning back now. You realized you never had any intention of doing so.

As soon as the door was closed, Jake was on you, and you had precisely zero complaints about that. His mouth attacked your neck with fervor, one hand settling on your hip and the other descending even lower to grab a handful of your ass. You weren’t so much shoved against the wall as you fell back against it, hauling Jake with you so that he collided against your boy, then pressed you harder against the wall with his hips.

“Jake,” you gasped desperately, the sound punctuated by his own responding moan. “Jake. Please. Your mouth. Give me your mouth.”

Your breath quickened as Jake curled a hand at the juncture where your jaw and neck met, thumb brushing along your cheek, the calloused pad against your soft skin causing you to shiver. You tilted your head up slightly to better meet his gaze, watching as he drank in the sight of you slowly, like the whiskey he seemed to favour.

“You are,” he whispered, “one of the most enchanting creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

If you weren’t wet already, that would’ve done you in. 

“Kiss me,” you murmured, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. You hadn’t intended for the act to be so sensual, yet you felt him twitch against your thigh.

“Fuck,” Jake gasped, eyes sweeping over your face one last time before he crushed his mouth against yours.

You did as you had wanted to do the moment you had first laid eyes on Jake at The Hard Deck the night before. You tangled your fingers in his blond hair and tugged as his tongue split the seam of your lips, delving inside slowly..

There had been quite a few people that you had kissed in your life - some were fantastic, memorable kisses that made you blush if you thought about them for even a moment. And naturally, there were ones that were clumsy and awkward, too wet with too much tongue. Part of you had hoped that Jake would be an atrocious kisser, but his tongue and mouth were talented in ways that you hoped translated well in other areas of your body. He licked into the corners of your mouth, as if searching for something, while his soft lips moved gently against yours. You pulled a little harder on his hair, and he moaned into your mouth.

“You will be my undoing,” you gasped in the moment that Jake came up for air.

“I look forward to it,” he said coyly, his hands coming up to push your jean jacket off of your shoulders, down your arms.

Your breath hitched as those talented fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his face, watching him intently as his eyes followed the paths of his hands, brushing gently over your bare arms. Realizing that you should probably do something than stand there, you reached and began to gently pluck open the buttons of the red flannel that he was wearing, revealing the white v-neck underneath. Even the act of removing clothing that was simply a barrier to more clothing felt incredibly heady, and as soon as the shirt was unbuttoned, Jake shrugged it off, the gentle rustle of fabric hitting the floor the only thing that you could hear over your rapidly beating heart and his breathing.

“You can tell me to stop,” Jake murmured, his fingers hooking over the straps of your tank top and bra, pulling them off your shoulder and letting them slip down your arm. Everything about him told you that it was the last thing he wanted to hear. But the fact that he was giving you an out? You appreciated it, even if you had no intention of taking it.

“Please,” you began, meeting Jake’s eyes with more assuredness than you had ever possessed, “don’t.”

He didn’t.

His hands settling on your hips, he pulled you against him, and you gasped into his mouth as his lips descended upon yours once more. You wanted to lap up the taste of him, all of the whiskey he’d consumed that night, and also something that was emphatically Jake. Your fingers curled into the front of his t-shirt, the fabric soft and yielding beneath your hands as you tugged, making it very clear that you wanted it anywhere but on his person.

In that moment, Jake pulled away from you, and you chased his mouth, whimpering softly at the sudden loss of it. You briefly wondered if he’d had a change of heart. But when you met his gaze, you knew that neither of you were leaving the house for a long time. Jake held your eyes for a moment before he began to sink to his knees, and any query that you had died on your lips at the sight. 

His hands, palms and fingertips rough from working with various equipment and machinery most days, slipped under the hem of your tank top, gently touching your stomach. You gasped quietly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as your fingers found their way to his head, carding gently through his hair. Jake plucked open the button of your jeans with nimble fingers before gently tugging the zipper down, and your heart exploded behind your breast, unsure that your will and the wall would be able to keep you upright.

“Jake -” you rasped.

“Let me,” he rumbled, lifting his eyes to look up at your face. Passion and warmth lay beyond his gaze, and he offered you a smile before his hands settled on the waist of your jeans, tugging them down slowly. Your hips canted forward and he huffed a slight chuckle - nothing born of malice, but of being appreciative of how eager you were. Getting your jeans down to your knees, he settled his hands on your thighs, and inhaled slowly. “Fuck. You’re soaked, sweetheart.”

The back of your head connected with the wall in a loud thud, and the sound that came from your parted lips was not one that you’d ever made before. He’d barely touched you and already you were in danger of coming undone.

With that, he leaned in between your thighs, face pressed into the space between them, tongue darting out to taste you through your underwear. The feeling of his mouth on you had your legs quaking already, and you moaned at the feeling of his tongue against you, even if it was only through the cotton. You couldn’t imagine how it would feel against the soft folds at your center.

“Christ,” you whined, fingers tugging gently on his hair.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Jake hooked his index and middle finger into the hem of the fabric at the crotch and gently pulled it over to the side. The tip of his tongue ghosted over the most sensitive part of you, and you cried out, leaning forward slightly.

“Please,” you gasped. “Fuck, it feels - it feels like too much.”

“Whatever you need,” he said, looking up at you, eagerness and understanding in those green eyes, which held onto the same bravado that they had the night that you met him.

What you needed was to lay him down and sit astride his face as he licked up into you, light stubble scratching against the insides of your thighs. You ached from the thought alone. And suddenly gravity began to win its war on your already trembling legs.

Jake’s hands were immediately on you, settling on your waist and helping to guide you slowly down to the floor with him. You went willingly as he laid you onto your back, and watched as he tugged your boots off of your feet, and then pulled your jeans from your legs. You lay there, looking up at the man hovering between your legs and suddenly wanted to feel every inch of him. 

You reached up and tugged at his t-shirt before pulling it over his head, drinking in the sight of him. Your hands went to cradle the back of Jake’s head and haul him closer, and he seemed to get the idea, covering your body with his own. You loved the weight of him on top of you, and hooked a leg over his hip in an attempt to draw him closer, lifting your hips from the floor.

“Shit,” he gasped against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. You’d felt him before, but somehow feeling him now, pressed between your legs, had you wanting to take him inside desperately. But just as with your first kiss, you wanted to drag it out for as long as you could stand it, not wanting the moment to end. “Do you feel me, darlin’?” he asked, southern accented voice laden with lust. “How hard you got me?”

“Yes,” you whined, arching beneath him, pressing against him. “Christ, I want you.”

Jake ground down into you and you whimpered, getting another fistful of his hair in one hand, the other scratching down along his back. “I want you too,” he murmured against the curve of your jaw, before pulling an earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently.

You were content to let him take the reins for the majority of the evening if he wanted to, but just for a moment you wanted to be in control. Wanted to watch his eyes go wide for a moment. And they did when you held him close, wrapped your legs around his waist, and then rolled him over so that he was on his back looking up at you. You’d somehow managed to catch him completely off guard, otherwise you don’t think that you could have pulled off that particular move - he was so much stronger than you. You moved astride his lap, and his hands flew to your waist. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he murmured, grinding up into you.

You leaned over, and mouthed at that spot along his collarbone that you’d been eyeing, and he made a soft noise as his hands moved down over your thighs. One of his thumbs sought out the small bundle that he knew would make you shudder and shake, and you shivered on top of him as he rubbed you through the damp cotton of your underwear.

“Fuck,” you gasped, hips twitching toward his touch.

“Tell me my name,” he whispered hurriedly, reaching between the two of you and undoing the button of his jeans. Once nimble hands seemed to falter and you would’ve laughed if it weren’t so incredibly arousing to see him begin to break.

“Jake,” you whispered, grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head.

“Again,” he said, finally getting the button and zip of his jeans undone and hooking his thumbs into the waistband.

Oh, fuck. You were growing concerned about coming undone without so much as being touched by him at this rate. “Jake,” you rasped as you tossed your tank top aside, and reached behind yourself to unhook your bra.

You watched his eyes get heavy lidded, and he ceased in getting his jeans and underwear pushed down and instead reached up to assist you in getting your bra off. “Again.”

“Jake,” you moaned, your bra falling away from your body and in an instant his hands were on you. He cupped your breasts gently in his palms, thumbs sweeping gently over your nipples. The touch didn’t last long, as he began resuming the task of getting out of what remained of his clothes.

“Again,” he rumbled, his already deep southern drawl somehow hitting an even lower register. You moved up slightly onto your knees so that he could get his jeans off, and it didn’t even hit you that his underwear had come down along with them until after a moment when you realized that he was completely bare beneath you.

He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. You - honest to god - licked your lips at the sight of him, wet and curving up against his stomach, and shimmied out of your underwear, kicking them off your ankle in a very undignified manner. Fuck, you wanted him, all of him, at that very instant. “Jake,” you whined, settling on his length, dragging yourself along him with aching slowness.

It was then that he broke, arching up off of the floor toward you with a growl, whatever animal dwelled deep within him begging to be let out. He kicked his jeans and shorts off of his ankles and with one hand on your hip, pushed you up off of him for a moment. You mourned the loss of contact, but that would be short lived. He grabbed himself by the base and pressed the tip against your entrance, biting at his lip before meeting your gaze. “Again,” he groaned, and he nudged at your hip, easing you down slowly over his cock.

The moment that you began to take him inside, you let out a choked sob. And though your eyes wanted to instinctively close as you gave yourself over to the pleasure, you willed them to stay open, you wanted to watch his face. “Jake!”

Your hand flew over your own mouth when you realized how loud you had been, and Jake laughed breathlessly beneath you, reaching up and curling his fingers around your wrist. He pulled your hand away from your mouth, bringing it to his own, soft lips brushing against your palm.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his breath hitching as you slowly fucked yourselfdown along him. “Let me - let me hear you.”

“Jake,” you whimpered, unsure if you were even able to speak anything else other than his name anymore. 

He moaned your name, and sure plenty of people had done that before, but it was the familiarity in his voice, the way it seemed to crack open at the sound of it on his own lips that had your thighs quaking around his hips.

You splayed your fingers over his cheek, letting out a soft hum of contentment as he bottomed out. Terrified to move at first, you simply lingered there, holding his gaze as you looked at one another, breathless and terrified. If there had been any chance of going back after crossing the threshold of the apartment you were certainly beyond that now. Jake’s thumb stroked along your hip bone, his other hand still curled around your wrist. He turned and kissed your palm once more, still looking into your eyes and lifted his hips from the floor, trying to press deeper inside of you even though there was nowhere for him to go.

“Move, baby girl,” he rumbled.

It felt like such a daunting task, to move as he had asked, for you to take your pleasure. You could feel him, hot, hard, and wet inside of you, your body slowly getting used to welcoming him inside of you. For the moment it was as if nothing was really happening, but then your hips twitched, and you moved instinctively, raising yourself up along him and then sinking back down. His eyes closed, and he tipped his head back against the floor, both of his hands settling on your hips, guiding you.

“Yes,” Jaked gasped, blunt edges of his fingernails digging into your soft skin. “Just - just like that, darlin’.”

You whimpered once more, continuing to move, and eventually Jake began to meet you halfway. Despite how frantic you had both been leading up to this moment, Jake took you with aching and deliberate slowness, as if he wanted to savour every moment of you. You were thankful for it, because you wanted to savour him as well. You weren’t sure if this was forever, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever have this again, but you wanted to take your time, commit every detail of him to memory.

The way he fucked up into you, the way his breath came in short gasps when you swayed your hips, the way you could feel his thighs twitching beneath you, the way he looked up at you like you put the moon in the sky. You felt naked under the intensity of his gaze, forget that you were actually naked, that look felt like it was flaying you open.

Jake sat up slowly, one arm wrapped around you, bracing his other hand on the floor. You reveled in the closeness, sighing happily as his chest was pressed against yours. He didn’t kiss you, at least not immediately, seeming content to trade breaths, his lips centimetres from yours. Jake tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, as he did earlier that night when he had picked you up, and of all the things you two had said and done that evening, that was the action that had you blushing the hardest.

“Jake,” you murmured, unable to keep from kissing him, your lips descending upon his in a flurry of kisses in quick succession.

“What - what do you need?” he rasped, his mouth seeking out the pulse point along the column of your throat, sucking on the tender skin there.

“This,” you replied, tipping your head back to give Jake better access. You sighed, feeling his teeth against your skin, and curled your fingers into his hair once more. “Just like this. You feel - you feel so good.”

“So do you, baby girl,” Jake moaned, rolling his hips as he fucked up into you. You cried out and clenched around him, and he shuddered beneath you. “God fuckin’ damn …”

All told, neither of you moved very much, instead trading touches and kisses. Your fingernails scratched down Jake’s chest while his hands mapped the expanse of your back. He held onto your hips so tightly that you thought they might bruise, and the idea of carrying around marks on your skin left behind by him thrilled you to no end. He held you close, and you didn’t want him to ever let you go.

Jake relinquished his hold on you, and you made a mournful sound as he laid back down on the floor again. He nudged at your hips, pushing you off of him and whimpered, almost mad at yourself for how desperately you missed the feeling inside of you already.

“C’mere,” he coaxed, trying to tug you forward. You were about to ask for clarification, but you didn’t need to, he left no room for interpretation. “Sit on my face, sweetheart.”

The low rumble of his already deep voice had you trying to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate some of the ache that you felt between your legs. You knee-walked up to him, holding his gaze as he wrapped his arms around your legs, urged you forward and down. The instant you felt his warm breath against you, so sensitive and wet, you cried out, and the sound died on your lips when you felt his tongue sweeping along the edges of you..

“Oh god,” you gasped, unsure whether to lean forward, fall back, or ascend to some manner of astral plane. 

His stubble scratched against the tender skin at the center of you, along the soft, unblemished skin of your inner thighs. You had mused earlier that you wanted the burn of his stubble from him everywhere, and it seemed to be that you would get your wish. Tongue flicking against your clit, you cried out softly and ground down against his mouth, almost apologizing until you heard the hum of appreciation from him, which reverberated against your flesh.

You’d never been with anyone who seemed to be as enthusiastic about eating pussy as Jake was. He alternated between licking along your lips, sucking your clit into the warm wet of his mouth, and fucking up into you with his tongue, moaning as he tasted you and remnants of himself. Unable to keep your hands suspended in some manner of limbo where you had no idea what to do with them, you reached down, curling your fingers in his hair, sighing as tendrils curled around your fingers. You tugged gently, pushing his face further up toward you, crying out as groaned against you. He acted like he’d never tasted anything sweeter in his life, and licked and nibbled at you with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Jake,” you whined, riding his face, crying out softly, already beginning to feel the stubble burn from having it chafing against you. “I’ll - I’ll come if you don’t stop.”

He seemed to have no intention of stopping. If anything, the unbridled enthusiasm with which his mouth and tongue tended to you increased, and he unhooked his arms from around your legs. Jake’s hands found purchase in the firm globes of your ass, holding you exactly in the place where you were, and he hummed against you. That was all it took to have you sobbing with relief as you came, the crescendo of your voice echoing off the walls in the house. Your cries died out into whimpers as you came down, hips stuttering against Jake’s face. You’d held onto his hair the entire time and were concerned that you may have tufts of it in your  hands.

Panting, you stilled above him, and looked down to find his eyes open, looking up at you with rapt adoration. That feeling of being naked under his gaze returned, but instead of feeling undone by it, you felt comforted. You didn’t trust your legs, but allowed Jake to slowly ease you up off of him and onto your back on the floor. You were still fighting to catch your breath when Jake moved over you, and your legs instinctively hooked over his hips.

“You taste better than the whiskey from earlier,” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but grin, reaching up and touching his face. Seeing it glistening with your own wetness was more arousing than anything else than you’d seen that night.

You tilted your head up and kissed his mouth gently, licking the edges of his lips, and tasting yourself there surged closer toward him, beckoning him inside of you once more. His cock slid against you, and you gasped, tipping your head back against the floor.

“Fuck me,” you murmured, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around him. You’d felt him already, against you and inside of you, but you hadn’t touched him like this yet. The weight of him in your hand had you so desperate for him. You guided him to your entrance, letting out a sound of relief as the tip slid inside of you. “Jake.”

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured, dropping his forehead against you shoulder, marvelling at how you felt around him.

Where there had been little movement when you had been on top of him, he seemed to want to rectify that now. Pinning you down to the floor with his hips, calloused fingers circling around your wrists and holding you down, he began to move. Slowly at first, and you raised your hips up from the floor to meet him halfway, which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy, if the moan that rumbled through him, muffled against your shoulder, was any indication.

But, oh, how you loved to hear men take their pleasure.

“You … wanted to hear me,” you whispered, turning your head, lips brushing along the shell of his ear. “Now let me hear you.”

Jake’s hips stuttered and he sheathed himself entirely inside of you. Back arching up from the floor, you moaned and wrapped a leg around his middle, drawing him closer, holding him there. Any holding back he’d been doing suddenly stopped, and soft, breathless sounds filled your ear.

He moaned your name, drawing back before sliding in again. “Give me your - fuckin’ - give me your eyes, baby girl.”

You whimpered, clenching around him, and he let go of one of your wrists, curling his fingers along your jaw. He lifted his head, your noses touching, and held your gaze as he plunged inside of you, again, again, and again. You could feel the urgency, the desperation, in every movement that he made, his breathing getting harsher. You reached up with your free hand, curling it in his hair, pulling gently, and he seemed to enjoy that, his eyelids fluttering and his lips parting in a long moan.

“Jake,” you gasped. “Come for me.” Writhing beneath him, you pulled on his hair again. “Please. Fill - fill me up with it.”

“Oh my god, you’re filthy,” he groaned, corner of his lips quirked up in a smile.

“I’ve been known to be,” you added with a breathless smile, before crushing your mouths together. Jake’s tongue slipped past your lips, and you brought your legs up, knees practically against your chest, drawing him in deeper.

He moaned your name breathlessly. “Baby girl. Oh, fuck -”

It caught both of you off guard. You cried out as he slammed into you, trembling between your legs, and he groaned against your lips, the sound dying off into choked off gasps as he spilled inside of you. Each time Jake’s hips connected with your body, you made a soft noise, something not quite whimpering, your fingers shifting from pulling on his hair to cradling the back of his head, scraping gently against his scalp. Once he had finished, he slumped against you with a loud groan, covering your face with soft, tender kisses.

“Ow,” he murmured, chuckling faintly. “Fuckin’ knees.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and once Jake relinquished his hold on your wrist brought your hand to your lips to giggle behind it. “We could have moved, you know.”

“You think I’m going to oppose a good floor fuck, darlin’?” he asked, lifting his head and looking into your eyes. You smiled fondly up at him, and he returned it, smoothing your hair back from your face. “Absolutely not.”

/end.