#i wish i was this good with backgrounds it's so detailed! :>

[leapdayowo]

them <3

I’ve been experimenting with a red smoke motif with helsknight, and so this was born :3

[f0x-meets-w0lf]

tbqh the most annoying part about being a detail-oriented artist is being like fuuuuck yeahhh i’m SO gonna draw tommy and buck fully making out in buck’s kitchen and it’s gonna be sooo good

and then realizing i actually personally have to draw the whole fucking kitchen in order for them to be making out in said kitchen

[outeremissary]

Just the art from this prompt post.

[sunnnfish]

You guys I love The Comic (tm) so much I can’t wait to finish it and show it to everybody….

[midnapanda]

Me, staring at the Equestria Girls necklaces/pendants again for the first time in years: fuck which one do i kin.

[yeleltaan]

// merry christmas!!! have a cayin with an alternative hat

//GOSH. Look at him. This is lovely.

[dizzybevvie]

in an emotional HTTYD mood

[charliemwrites]

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

[aliceramblez]

Dating The BroZone Brothers 🎤🎶

Tags: Gender-neutral reader, Fluff, Some Angst (mostly for Branch lol), Also Broppy isn't canon here, obviously. But I love them dearly so don't come at me!

Follow me @taruchinator for more structured content and/or feel free to leave a request here in asks. Enjoy!

John Dory

We all know this man is a bit self-centered, and that doesn't stop at your relationship.

He'll find any opportunity to show off for you— anything from singing, to dancing, to just his ‘incredible leadership skills that make him the perfect boyfriend!’

He also definitely introduced himself as a member of the old boy band BroZone, which you may or may not have heard of, which may or may not have left him flabbergasted.

Despite all his faults though, John Dory will do his best to be a good partner for you. It's what you deserve, after all!

Keeping you safe from wild creatures, making sure you're always happy because he loves your smile, and also being the overprotective boyfriend who'll square off against anyone who even dares to make you uncomfortable even if they're 10x his size.

Small detail, but he also loves the fact that Rhonda took a liking to you instantly.

“She knows how to pick the good ones,” he'd say with a wink.

Talks about his brothers CONSTANTLY, but always in a way that makes it seem like he doesn't care and that it's their fault the band broke up in the first place. He obviously really cares about them, though.

Some nights, he'll reflect and regret all the stuff he said and did to them, and wishes he could go back and make it right. You reassure him through most of it, trying to convince him that he was young and just didn't know any better.

He stares at you in awe and disbelief because how could ANYONE think that what he did was justifiable? Abandoning his younger siblings all because of his stupid ego and personal insecurities.

“I really don't deserve you...”

Give him some time he's just emotionally constipated.

Also you BET he's gonna show you off to his brothers once they're reunited, so just let him. He just wants the most important people in his life to meet.

You can also expect them to try and embarrass John Dory with stories from their childhood, so be ready to have a good laugh as your boyfriend plots for murder in the background.

Spruce/Bruce

Probably the one who's best equipped to be in a relationship out of everyone in the group.

He is a family man, after all.

Speaking of which, if you think him settling down in the movie and having kids of his own was cute, it really is! But that just indicates that he has a way with children.

If you have a child or younger sibling, expect them to get dotted and taken care of to DEATH by this man.

He may not have been the sensitive one of the group, but was definitely the most reliable of the eldest, so he's got experience handling little trouble makers that come his way.

He still opens a cantina in Vacay Island, which is where you two met for the first time, and so you help run it occasionally whenever you have the chance. And even though you don't go there 24/7, all the regulars just think that you're the co-owner since you're dating Bruce.

You're the one who finds out that he's actually ‘Spruce’, the member of old boy band BroZone. You just happened to stumble upon an old record he kept in his room, and after confronting him about it, he reluctantly confirms your suspicions.

It was hard to recognize him since he was much older now and his body had definitely... grown over the years.

Bruce doesn't like preaching about those days, since he's quite embarrassed of the ‘immature ladies man’ he used to be back then.

But he won't deprive you of them either, since he'll happily share any stories on his misadventures with his brothers, funny backstage incidents, etc.

He misses them dearly and wishes they're all doing okay.

Two words: Hopeless. Romantic.

He's ‘The Heart Throb’ for a reason.

Roses, chocolates, dances— he can do it all!

Bruce will always make time in his busy schedule to spend time with you, taking you on dates to your favorite spots around the island, getting you meaningful gifts, and just overall expressing his love for you in any way he can.

He loves singing to you because it always serenades you and it puts a smile on his face.

People always joke that he's going to propose to you out of the blue one of these days, which always leaves him a flustered mess, but he never denies either.

“What can I say? I might be waiting for the perfect opportunity...”

Clay

Poor baby doesn't know what he's doing but he's trying, okay?

The two of you meet in the abandoned Bergen Golf Course, where you and Viva welcome him with open arms, and everything pretty much plays as in the movie, except that he really likes spending time with you and ONLY you, which he doesn't quite understand?

You're the one to ask him out cause otherwise you'd be playing this back and forth forever. He says yes.

He's never had a partner before, so he's justifiably worried that he'll mess up in some way, or that you'll end up finding him too boring after a while.

This becomes much more apparent after a particular bad night, in which after mumbling incoherently because of a nightmare, you find out that he has brothers and used to be in a boy band.

He doesn't open up about it at first, so you give him some space and reassure him that you'll be there when he needs you. Just give him some time and he'll tell you eventually.

He talks about how he could never be himself, since he was always expected to be ‘The Fun One’, and now he's basically tried to become the complete opposite in hopes of gaining some control over his life.

But he also worries that others will think he's too dull, and that he just isn't interesting enough to be around. Especially you.

You immediately take his face in your hands and look him in the eyes.

“I fell in love with Clay. Not ‘The Fun Troll from BroZone’ Clay. Also, you're fun in your own way!”

He basically falls for you all over again after hearing this.

After that, he becomes slightly less uptight and allows himself to enjoy the little things. You sometimes actually catch him dancing when he thinks no one's looking and you find it's the most adorable thing in the world, even after he realizes he's not alone and wants the earth to swallow him whole.

“Don't mind me, I'mma just crawl in a hole for a while...”

“No, no- Babe, it was amazing! I loved it! Pleaseeee show me more!”

Overall, he's a pretty good boyfriend all things considered.

He's incredibly overprotective of you, and will always give you advice and tools he thinks will be helpful if you're thinking of venturing outside of the Golf Course.

He asks Viva for dating advice CONSTANTLY and she DOES NOT let him live it down. Of course she has good ideas, though.

He'll pretty much do anything for you, even if it means going out of his comfort zone.

Floyd

Another great candidate for being in a good relationship.

Need I explain myself with this man?

His entire personality revolves around being caring and understanding, so he's definitely always on the lookout for anything that makes you sad or uncomfortable and will fix it ASAP.

Floyd is the kind of person who will ask for consent with pretty much anything you do— from holding your hand, to kissing you, to giving you a hug; he will ALWAYS make sure that you're okay with it even if you've given him the green light in the past.

He's not huge on PDA due to his somewhat shy nature, but if you are, he'll try his best to keep up with you.

This doesn't mean he dislikes physical affection, in fact it's his love language. He'll go out of his way to try and sneak in as many hugs as possible throughout the day and maybe a kiss or two if you'll allow it, which of course you do.

You also try your best to get involved in his own interests, because that's only fair after everything he does for you.

It isn't until one day that he sings for you that you compliment him and he nonchalantly comments that he used to be in a band when he was a teenager.

Cue the reveal of him having four brothers and you begging him to tell you all about them.

Which he does, but you can't help but notice the melancholic expression on his face, so you immediately stop him and apologize for being pushy on the matter and that he doesn't have to share anything he doesn't want to talk about.

He only looks at you with a small smile and shakes his head.

“No, I'm glad you asked. I haven't talked about them in years, so I like remembering the good times, even if they're in the past now.”

So he'll go on and on about them, one by one, and go into excruciating detail about what kind of person they are and what he loves about them. He's especially fond of his little brother Branch, based on everything he tells you.

When he gets kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer, you immediately go to Branch for help.

Once you're reunited, you two basically run to each other and hug with tears streaming down your eyes.

“Did they hurt you?!”

“No, I'm okay! Did they hurt you?!”

“Who cares?”

“I do!”

Floyd is then incredibly happy to introduce you to his brothers, who begin to affectionately tease him about getting himself a partner and you happily step in to protect him from any unwanted bullying.

You also tell him that you like the new hairdo, which only causes him to giggle and kiss your forehead affectionately.

Honestly you guys probably have the healthiest relationship out of the whole group.

Branch

I was really debating whether to include him or not since there's many Branch Reader Inserts out there, but I don't wanna leave my baby out so here we are!

You have a classic childhood friends to lovers situation with him, since you've known him ever since he was a member of BroZone, only being about a year older than him.

You'd help him practice for his concerts and would always give him pep talks whenever he felt worried that he'd ruin the show.

You're basically his number one fan— never missing a concert even if it meant dragging your parents with you so they'd let you get in.

The moment the group disbands and Branch is left all alone, you're there for him and wait alongside him for his brothers to return, reassuring him that ‘siblings would never break a promise’.

Cue his whole childhood trauma and him losing his colors, but it's only because of you that he doesn't completely isolate himself from society. He still builds his bunker though, since he's pretty much scarred for life thanks to the Bergens.

Just like with Clay, you're the one who takes initiative and asks him out, and he's just left gaping like a fish because why would you want someone like HIM?

After reuniting with John Dory, he's also dotting you about how big you've gotten and treats you like a baby, which actually irks Branch much more than it does to him.

He makes sure to remind his brothers that you both are grown adults, thank you very much.

Once the band gets back together, you kinda become a manager of some kind and help them in organizing their performances. Branch is eternally grateful and thanks you for staying by his side all these years.

[darantha]

How to Spot AI images (Hopefully)

So, I did see GailyNovelry's excellent post on this (Link here), but saw that there also were some confusion and they were using a environment image as their example, so I thought I'd do a breakdown that was more character centric.

The key thing with AI images is that the program does not know what it is making. And, arguably, they thrive on that we are currently conditioned to not really look at things for too long before we hit that engagement button and/or just scroll onwards to whatever next the algorithm feeds us.

It's hard to fight that urge, I know, but if you just pause and look, you'll soon start spotting things that just do not make sense, and I don't just mean that the pretty booby elven fighter is sporting seven fingers on one hand. Those are the obvious things. I'll try to cover the general sort of artefacts that tend to tip me off to the fact that a image is generated rather than actually hand-made by someone making informed design decisions as opposed to trust what amounts to RNG. I think this is important as there's those who do not tag their images as AI generated, and try to scam people with commissions.

And, as the saying goes... The devil is in the details.

To start with I picked this image from deviantuser CeiEllem. At first glance, it looks... very impressive. Sharp looking elf lady with killer hair. 10/10 wish I could rock that haircolour.

But, it is AI generated. Aside from the general tell that is this hyper rendered, near photorealistic style that AI images often have, there's a lot of details that tips it off to just not having been made by a human who actually made the decisions.

Since AI is just working off patterns and not actual decisions, things like hair is a immediate giveaway that you're looking at a AI image.

(Deviantart users: daralyth, DavidZarn and lunayokai)

In all these three images you can see just how hair whisps off into weird nonsense shapes or even meld into the background or clothing. Because, again, the AI doesn't know what its doing, just working with shapes. Similarly, background elements that just stop and start randomly is a dead giveaway, like the tail in the first image.

As I've said, details is the key to spotting these images, and another giveaway is the sheer density of details that is just noise.

This is from users Rigtorok7, and the details are so noisy, absolutely miniscule in scale, and hypersharp, yet have no actual design to them. Artists imply details all the time. We don't render out every single nook and crevice, and since we actually know what we want the viewer to look at, we'll pull back and simplify things so you don't want to look at the big chunk of very noisy hair ornament or necklace instead of the face of the character.

For comparison, this is how it looks when I, personally, indulge in doing 'overdetailing' of something (because I am forever weak for painting jewelry).

BUT I want to stress that the key here isn't that detailing equals AI generated. The key is the lack of design choices IN the details. There's a lot of artists out there, and someone painting out all those nooks and crannies in something doesn't mean they are a AI user. This painting by Leighton is super detailed but you see the intent with all the details. You have a focus with the people in the boat and secondary read of the figure in the door, where the details are a lot more implied and less sharp.

AI can't do that, because AI isn't making any decisions.

I couldn't find any good example once I went looking, but if you're into fantasy art: look for people just holding weird 'swords'.

AI is rapidly evolving, so who knows how much this'll help in 3 months, but for now, this is how I spot things.

But, in the end, the biggest giveaway that someone is using an AI generator is that they've filled up page after page on deviantart/artstation/wherever in the past like... six to nine months, and often swing between wildly different styles. If you're unsure, look up the source of a image. Another clue can be generic 'untitled' or just 'elf lady' sort of titles, since someone uploading 30 images a week isn't going to make unique titles for each image.

Also, commissioners. ... you should ALWAYS get a sketch and progress image from a artist that you hire. My art directors would have my head on a plate if I didn't send them a rough sketch and progress shot before finalising the image.

[flaticeball]

a jew review of: nhl team happy hanukkah posts

good evening and chag sameach to my hanukkah-celebrating pals out there on hockeyblr. today i bring you: a non-comprehensive and entirely subjective review from one (1) jewish hockey fan of the graphics posted by various nhl teams in celebration of the first night tonight. i definitely missed some, and some teams didn't post any at all, so it's a bit patchwork. here we go.

vancouver canucks: this is an extremely serviceable graphic. love the blurred dreidels to give the effect that they are spinning. very funny. props for the detail that there is a shadow of the menorah on the ice. straightforward. icemenorah is a themeTM but some did it better than others and this is a classic. 7/10

post continues under the cut for the sake of your dash and mine.

carolina hurricanes: obsessed with what the canes have done here though i cannot comprehend it. the weird techno style textured background. the out of focus magen david around. THE HURRICANES. IN HEBREW. WITH THE LITTLE CANES LOGO THING I FORGET THE NAME OF ON THE HEI? INCREDIBLE. points for creativity. overall baffling vibes. 6/10.

pittsburgh penguins: this is just adorable. you hired someone to draw this. spectacular work, guys. it's giving a bit of 'we browsed the target hanukkah deco section for inspo' but it's too adorable for me to care. it's team themed, it's hockey themed, it's holiday appropriate. love everything going on here. they get points for doing what very few other teams are doing and remembering this is night one, so only one candle is lit. most everyone else is getting a bit a head of themselves. 9/10.

washington capitals: and here we have another edition of the icemenorah, with a minimalist twist. this graphic screams 'oh fuck wait is that tonight' which to be fair is also how i, a jew, felt about realizing tonight was the first night of hanukkah. could'a done more, but it's perfectly fine. 6/10.

new jersey devils: this fucks. it's got devils themes. it's got a cool style. it's got vibes. it's got: more hockey stick menorahs which i am always excited about. that shamash candle is a graphic design nightmare but other than that i am all on board. 8/10

vegas golden knights: i love the gold foil effect and that you remembered there was more to hanukkah than candles, that's nice, as is involving the other affiliates! however. where are the vibes. this is not the vgk wishes you a chag sameach, this is a greeting card i got on etsy. 6/10 just bc i KNOW you can do better. where's the neon, babes.

los angeles kings: oh this is fun. it's icemenorah: WITH A TWIST. the art style is cute, it's got plenty of hockey theme, it's also very obviously LA-y, i'm giving them points for this one. the shadow is insane but that's okay, it's ~stylistic. it's cute. 7/10. UPDATE: definitely AI. boo hiss. 0/10.

montréal canadiens: this is probably my favourite for sheer vibes. you got: levitating icemenorah. you got: action-shot candle lighting. you got: remembering this is night ONE. you got: the implication that the torch is the shamash candle????? you got: JOYEUSE HANOUKKA!!!!!!!! (and like happy hanukkah or whatever i guess). obsessed. it's so funny. it's amazing. 9/10.

[rosipuree]

"you wish you never ever met her at all..."

G.Satoru x f!reader|

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That smirk that plastered your perfect little face. How Satoru would love to fuck it right off your face. He hated you. Satoru loved the attention he would get from the uni campus, but you took it right from him ever since you came.

Now you are crashing his party, which you weren't invited to. Walking in with that little black dress that perfectly hugged your curves. Oh, how he loved it. And so did many others as most eyes were on you. Starting small conversations with everyone you walk past.

What he hated the most was that he didn’t even hate you.

The very first day when you arrived Satoru tried shooting his shot. Immediately, you rejected him. Which lowered his ego way more than he anticipated. Seeing you talk to many other men who weren't even half as good looking as Satoru.

"The hell are you doing here?" His brows furrow as you finally walk up to him. He wasn't stupid though. He knew you'd come.

"Was I not invited?" You pout as you trace your finger along his chest onto his biceps. 'Fuck.' He thought to himself.

"You knew damn well you weren't invited." He shoves your hand that was wrapped around his bicep. Though he loved the thought of your little hands wrapping around him as he fucked you relentlessly.

You looked around acting confused, "But everyone is here, why not me?"

Before he could even bite back, you walked off. 

He’s been eager to see you all night but he was unable to find you. That is till he catches you leading some underclassmen into the bathroom of his house. He felt heart rate increasing, pushing past people while he fumes with anger.

He forces the door open to see you sitting on the sink as the random boy leaned up all in your neck. How your lips were plump, hair all messy and the skanky dress revealing your lace black thong. “What the fuck are you doing in here.” 

The underclassman swiftly turns around, seeing Satoru furious.“Hey man I’m sorry…she came at me-” 

“Get the fuck out.” Satoru says staring deeply into your soul as all you could do was just smirk at him. While the underclassman runs out the bathroom, Satoru slams the door closed.

“So this is what you do? Fuck around with me?” Satoru grabs your face bringing it closer to his. “Wanna act so fucking hard to get with me? Then fuck around with these little boys?”

You squirm trying to get out of his grasp, “They wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” 

“And you do?” You attempt to say as Satoru’s grip around your face tightens. It started to hurt, feeling his fingers dig through your cheek. 

“I can fuck you till you can’t even form a proper sentence.” He grits his teeth, rapidly letting go of your face. 

His lips crashing onto yours, your lips tasting like the strawberry glossed you always use. You nibble his bottom lip as the kissing gets slopier. Your hands slid down his abdomen, removing his shirt that defined every muscle he had. But looking at his bare skin was much better. 

“God you're so fucking hot.” Seeing the way his lips plumped up and turned red, his hair messed up from removing his shirt. 

“Save it for later…” he carries you off the sink, pushing your head down as a sign to get on your knees, “I’m not sucking your dick.” You bark at him but all he did was smirk. 

“It’s not really an option.” 

The pornographic noises of you sucking his shaft as the music from the party plays in the background. Satoru whispering small ‘fuck’ ‘shit’ ‘good girl’ as he has one handful of hair in one hand while the other holds up his phone. Making sure to get every detail. Your mascara running down, saliva running down from your mouth onto your tits. 

“Keep going..almost..there princess.” Satoru sucks in a sharp breath; feeling your cold little hands fondling his balls. His free hand forces your throat to take his dick deeper; repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. 

“mmm’look at you..gagging on this dick.” He points the camera closer to your face, hungrily fucking your mouth feeling himself reaching his max. He takes his dick out and gives it a few strokes before it paints your face. The frosted liquid drips from your eyebrow onto your eye and some into your mouth.  

“Show them my cum all over your face…” he pants while moving the camera all around your face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue following with a high pitched ‘ahh’. 

“Should’ve gotten some on those pretty tits of yours” putting the phone down as you heavily breathe for air. Satoru helps you up by your arms and turns you around to look at yourself in the mirror. “Do those little fuckers make your pretty mascara run like that?” you nod, boosting his ego even more. 

He bends down examining your tiny wet cunt, giving soft kitty licks. Your body squirming; feeling his soft tongue sucking the juices from your pussy. The pornographic noises are now coming from him as you're begging for him to give you more. “Mm..More Satoru.” you can feel his smirk form on your pussy. His hand now flicking your clit while his tongue explores your warm cunt. You can feel your body quivering under his touch. 

“Toru~ m’gonna cum…” 

His fingers now thrusting inside you coming in contact with the rubbery gushy spot that made you feel so good.Your legs crossing as he keeps abusing the same spot in your pussy while every now and then he pinches your clit. “Cum on my fingers f’me princess.” 

You loudly moan as you feel your climax reach, Cumming all over Satoru’s fingers. “Good girl, do they make you cum just by fingering you?” He whispered as he shoved his fingers inside your mouth. You nod again, and of course Satoru smirks. 

“Have you ever done anal?” He nibbles your ear while your body was already so fragile.Bent over the sink as you slightly shiver. He takes a picture of your cunt while he waits for your answer. “Answer me.” 

“No.” you breathlessly say, pushing the strands of hair on your face behind your ears. “Do you want it? My dick up your tiny asshole?” He kneads your boobs while peppering your neck with little kisses. 

“Yes, daddy.” He could feel blood rush to his shaft, he wasn’t really expecting you to agree with his idea. Nor did he expect you to call him daddy. “Look at you~” He praises you while sending small slaps to your ass cheeks.

He has you bent over the bathroom sink again, this time he gathers a bunch of spit from his mouth and spit on your asshole. Slapping his tip on your ass before positioning himself. “It’s gonna hurt a little.” He warns you, delicately placing soft sloppy kisses on your back. 

‘mkay...hurry’ you whined. 

And he did, slowly pushing his cock into your tight asshole. Moaning out your name as your tight ass suffocated his dick. ‘Hurts toru~’ You sob. His pace increases as you cry out. ‘shhh i know…’ he watched your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as the sobbing turns into lewd moans. ‘Fuck this ass feels sooo good.’ he grunts. 

‘Mhm..yeah..’ you moan as you try to reach for his hand. Grabbing his hand and guiding it down to your clit. He chuckled breathlessly, he had already fucked you dumb. Not being able to use your words. Only hearing the high pitched moans coming out of your sweet mouth. 

Satoru rubs your clit as he thrust deeper and deeper into your ass. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his climax. And he knew you were too, the moaning getting louder and your body shaking as he increased his speed.

Before he knew it, your asshole filled with his cum. How sexy it looked oozing out of your pretty little ass he couldn't help but snap another picture. One with his dick inside your as and one without. 

His hand still rubbing your clit as your moaning took over, your own liquid running down your legs now, ‘Fuck toru~” 

Your body was limp and your eyes could not stay open, “Do those little boys fuck you like that? Hmm?” He cleans off all the cum and helps you redress yourself. 

“Oh shut up.” You say adjusting one strap to your dress as Satoru was redressing himself now. You whimper as you feel a slap on your right ass cheek.

“Answer me..” he kisses your lips and wipes the mascara from under your eyes as much as possible. 

“No they don’t.” You smiled. 

“atta girl..that smile suits you more.” He opens the bathroom as you wrap your arm around his. 

The embarrassment consumes you as you see many people giggling at you two leaving the bathroom together; looking like you guys just had the time of your lives.

I mean you guys did.

[wardenparker]

Mother Knows Best

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk. Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club. Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶

"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.

Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.

"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.

"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.

"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"

"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.

"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."

"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.

“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.

"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"

“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”

“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.

“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”

He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.

******

You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.

Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.

Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.

Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.

There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.

You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.

He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.

“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”

You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."

"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."

"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.

Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.

He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.

"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."

It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.

The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"

“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”

"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."

“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”

"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.

“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”

"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."

He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”

Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."

“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”

"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."

“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”

“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”

“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.

“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”

“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”

“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”

“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”

“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”

“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”

“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”

“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”

He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”

“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.

“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.

“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.

"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."

He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.

"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"

“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.

“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”

“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”

“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.

“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”

“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”

“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.

“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”

“It’s like not liking classic movies.” He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”

“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”

“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”

“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”

“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”

“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”

“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”

“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.

“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”

“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”

“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”

“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”

“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”

“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”

“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”

“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”

“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.

"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."

Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”

"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.

“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.

"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."

“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”

“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.

“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”

The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”

“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”

"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"

“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.

Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"

There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”

He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”

“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.

“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”

“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”

******

“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”

“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.

“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”

“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.

“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”

Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.

“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.

“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”

“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.

“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”

“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”

“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.

******

“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”

“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”

“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”

“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.

“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”

“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”

“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”

“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”

Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”

“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”

“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.

“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”

“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”

Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.

It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."

He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”

"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."

“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”

"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."

“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”

"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."

“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.

It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?

When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.

You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.

“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”

"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."

“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.

"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.

“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”

He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.

“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.

"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."

He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”

The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.

Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”

"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."

“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.

"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"

“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”

"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.

Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.

"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.

“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”

"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"

“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.

"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."

At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.

It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."

“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”

"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."

“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.

“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.

He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.

“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”

“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”

“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”

He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”

“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.

“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.

"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.

"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.

"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."

"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.

"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."

"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."

"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."

"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.

"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."

"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."

"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.

"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.

"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."

"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”

"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."

“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.

"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.

“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”

"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."

“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.

"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."

“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.

"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.

It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"

He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”

"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."

“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.

He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."

“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.

He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.

Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.

“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”

“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.

“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”

“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.

“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”

“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”

“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”

“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”

“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.

“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”

“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.

When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.

“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.

“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”

“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.

“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.

“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.

“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”

“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.

“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.

It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.

“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.

“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.

“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”

He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.

“Not at all.” In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”

“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.

Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.

It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.

For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.

"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.

“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.

“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.

“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.

“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.

“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”

Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.

It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.

He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.

“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.

Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.

“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”

There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”

“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”

Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”

“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.

“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.

It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.

It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.

"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.

“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.

"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."

“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”

The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.

His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.

Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.

Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.

Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.

The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”

“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.

He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.

The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.

"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.

“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.

“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”

Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.

“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.

"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.

He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.

It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.

Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.

The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.

Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.

"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.

"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"

It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.

He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.

The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.

Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.

"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.

"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."

"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.

“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.

He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.

“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.

He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.

Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.

Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.

"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.

"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"

"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.

"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.

That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?

"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.

"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.

Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.

Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.

Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.

"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."

“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”

"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."

You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”

He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.

Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.

His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.

“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."

“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”

"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."

That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.

Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.

The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.

His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.

Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.

Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.

“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”

Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.

It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.

Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.

“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”

The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”

The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.

"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.

Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”

"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"

The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.

He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.

“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.

He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."

“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”

It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."

You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”

"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."

“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”

"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"

“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”

He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."

"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.

"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"

"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.

"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"

"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."

"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."

"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.

He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.

______

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[megamindsecretlair]

When It Feels Right

Pairing: Lamont Diggs x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, protected PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word. Drug use.

Summary: Lamont invited you to his studio to help work on his new beat. You help him in more ways than one.

Word Count: 5,057k

A/N: Hello, my loves. I have been feral for this man since watching this show. This was LONG overdue. This is the winner of the Fic poll, thank you to everyone who voted! ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @wide-nose-and-wonderful @hereformiles @flydotty @blackerthings @notapradagurl7

Lamont released a heavy cloud of smoke in the air. You bobbed your head to the new beat he made. Lamont matched your bobbing head, a slow grin working its way across his face. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trying to feel the beat without him coloring your opinion.

Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean that you couldn’t lay down the truth when needed. The good Lord knew that he didn’t need an even bigger head. 

As the beat faded and came to a close, Lamont clapped his hands in the too silent studio. It was a rare night where he didn’t have Melissa, couldn’t sleep, and his boys weren’t in the background smoking up all the weed. 

“Go on and tell me that’s hot!” He yelled and clapped his hands again. He played with a few switches on the switchboard and then swung his chair to face you. You swung idly on your own chair, back and forth. 

You gave him a funny look, not willing to admit that it was good. Of course it was good. Dude really knew his fucking craft. 

“It’s aight,” you said and dismissed him with a wave.

“Bullshit!” Lamont yelled. The joint hung from his lips as his long, delicate fingers flew over switches and knobs and he ran the track back. The deep bass thumped through the speakers once more and he turned to you, brows furrowing to gauge your reaction.

“Damn, I’m playing!” You said and giggled. You pushed away from his too intense stare. He sucked his teeth and pushed you back.

“Tell me what you really think, damn,” he said. 

“Nah, that shit is fire, Lamont. Seriously, you tore this up,” you said.

“Thanks, thanks. Just need some dope lyrics on it. Tired of them mumble rapper m’fucka’s,” Lamont said. 

He shook his head, his locs tussling over his face and dropping into his eyes. Your hand itched to push it away so you could continue looking at him. You swung your chair away from him so that your face didn’t give you away. It was the weed talking, nothing more. 

You played with the sleeves of your sweater, swinging around and around in circles until his studio became a dizzy array of green and red. Like Christmas. That was a much safer line of thinking. You could think about lights, gingerbread houses, and pinecones and not about how Lamont’s lips poked out, ready to be kissed.

Lamont turned down the beat and deposited the joint in the nearby ashtray. The smell was loud, filling your senses with its aroma. You smacked his shoulder as you passed him and then smacked it again until he relented and handed it to you.

You took a lungful, holding it in and rolling it around your tongue before releasing it back out into the studio. You watched the smoke lift towards the popcorn ceiling, wishing it would take your thoughts with it. You smoked so that your brain could pause like a TV show. So that you could stop to take in the details around you and make sense of it. 

Your stomach turned and roiled so you stuck your foot out to slow your spins. Lamont was on his phone scrolling through Instagram.

“You always on that damn phone,” you said, grinning as you realized that you sounded like your mama. 

“Okay, Ms. Etta,” he said.

“Shut up! That is not my mama name!” 

Lamont peeked at you from the curtain of his locs and smirked, holding out his hand for the joint. You took one last inhale, the burning embers at the end filling your peripheral vision before you handed it back to him. He dumped the ashes and then took a puff, putting it down on the ashtray. 

Lamont returned his attention back to his phone, head slightly bouncing to the beat he made. Your eyes slowly tracked over all of the mini orange, red, and green lights blinking from the switchboard.

This was the kind of laid back music that would be in a lounge somewhere. Your mind’s eye filled in details of blue ambient lighting. Black men and women and those in between dressed in their finest business casual. Men in deep, monochromatic suits and shiny shoes. Women in dresses a hair shy of too short, showing off long, thick legs and strappy high heels. 

You pictured glasses clinking, words whispered amongst friends, and glances thrown across the room. Ballers sending trays of drinks to the group of women at the bar knowing exactly what they were doing by leaning over it. 

It was a type of sexy beat that you felt in your inner thighs first. The thrumming bass making your thighs jiggle. Warming heat working its way up your spine until you couldn’t help but nod your head, bump your shoulders, and look at your friend to see if they were feeling the beat like you were.

You turned to Lamont, ready to tell him, when his nose was buried in his phone again. You groaned and reached out to slap your hand over the phone.

“You said you wanted no distractions tonight, remember?” You asked.

“I’m done with the beat though,” he said. He moved his phone out of your way and you leaned over a little further to try and snatch it from his fingers. His arms were longer than yours and he easily held it away from you. 

“You said not to let you get distracted. Hand it here,” you said. You snapped your fingers. Lamont shook his head, his locs whipping across his face. His gold chain glinted in the low lighting and it was stark against his white T-shirt, dyed green in the studio lighting.

“You ain’t gon’ snap yo fingers like you somebody,” he said.

“I AM! SOME-BODY!” You cackled at your own joke, eyes wide and smiling so big that your cheeks ached. 

“Goofy ass. You need to stay off this shit,” he said. 

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you said. You continued to reach across the short space between you, trying to reach his phone. You were high, but not that high. Your thoughts were coherent and slow. Like you could pluck each of them out and lay them on a blanket. That you could take your time and choose between them like choosing your outfit. 

“C’mon, watch out,” he said. He nudged you back but you were undeterred. Your tongue stuck out of your mouth, so deep in your concentration. Lamont chuckled, effortlessly fighting you off. 

You huffed and you huffed but you could not blow this wolf down. You sat back in the seat and sighed. “For real, Lamont. I did not come over here, at midnight, just for you to play on your phone. I wanna see some magic,” you said.

“Girl, I just showed yo ass the Magic Kingdom,” he said.

You laughed at his corny ass line and shook your head. “One beat is all you got?” You asked.

“All I got?” Lamont scoffed, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. 

You inwardly grinned, using your knowledge of him to your advantage. He always rose to the occasion. He was almost too easy as he sat forward in his seat. His left hand dropped the phone in between you while he focused on the board once more.

Where you only saw switches and gears, he saw instruments. This board was a modern orchestra and he knew exactly which sounds to pull from it. Which drums sounded dirty enough to warrant adding snares and strings. 

You snatched his phone from beside him. He instantly balked, trying to get it back from you. You didn’t have the length he did, so you had to resort to putting it behind your back and trying to slide your chair away from him.

He put one hand on your chair to stop your retreat and then the other went in search of his missing phone.

“C’mon, stop playing!” He laughed as he struggled to get the phone from you.

You only had so many places to stick it. You kept moving it like you were playing hot potato with it, tossing it from one hand to the other. “You come on! I know why you call me here. So I can keep yo ass focused!”

“I focus just fine without you. Ever think I just want your company?” He asked.

“Duh, you always want my company,” you teased, still moving the phone every two seconds while he lunged for it. A giddy feeling swelled in your chest like a balloon, filling up all of your hollow crevices and giving you the feeling of floating despite feeling heavy. 

“Always? You loud and wrong,” he said. He sat back with a huff, eying you. You grinned, looking for any type of eye twitch or flicker. Anything to indicate that he would make a sudden move and try to snatch it from you. 

“Oh? I guess I should just leave then,” you said. You leaned out of the chair, butt hovering over the seat that was practically molded to your ass by now. You felt a few twinges. The side effect of sitting too long. All this cushion in your ass didn’t mean shit. 

“Man, sit yo ass down and hand me my phone. Please?” Lamont asked. But the please was not sincere. You stuck out your tongue while you placed the phone down your shirt.

The warm metal laid across your skin and you grinned at Lamont’s expression. His face kind of froze. Or paused while he stared at your chest. It was nothing new for the two of you, so you couldn’t name why it made your belly flip. 

“You think that’s gon’ stop me?” He asked. Was it you or did his voice get a little deeper? A little rougher? 

You adjusted the phone against your cleavage and threw up your hands. “What you gon’ do?” You asked.

Lamont licked his lips, a small smile forming on his lips. “You know I can just turn you upside down and shake you like a toy?” 

Nope. That did not make your pussy flutter. You did not imagine shaking for entirely different reasons. 

There was always this thickness between you and Lamont. A sort of sticky, gooey middle that kept you glued to his side all these years. You had been friends for so long, you didn’t remember the exact number. Where one went, there went the other. There was always a lingering look, a hand on the hip placed too long, a bite to the lip. 

You never crossed the line. The timing was never right. Either you were with somebody or he was. He was nursing your broken heart while you were getting him turnt up for his. He had an entire baby with Mia who had him wrapped around her tiny manicured pinky. Despite his protests otherwise. 

Now. Now you were both single. Unattached. No messy drama getting in the way. 

“Whatever, Lamont. I am here to keep you on track,” you said. You shook your head and smacked your lips. “Literally and figuratively.” 

“Gimme my phone,” he said, that same rough voice dancing along the sticky gooeyness that made your toes curl. He didn’t need to see the way you looked down trying to get yourself under control. 

“What you gon’ do?” You asked, rolling your neck for emphasis.

He smiled and shook his head. He waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and you smacked his hand. 

“What you gon’ do? What you gon’ do?” You kept asking, waiting for him to reply. To say something. Anything. You were tossing out the question like a fishing line, baiting him with delicious chum. With the irresistible urge to either latch on and let you know that it wasn’t just you or toss it aside and let it drop once and for all. 

“Say it one more time and I’ll show you what I’m gon’ do,” he said. 

“What you gon’ do?” You said slowly, enunciating each word so there were no misunderstandings.

Lamont’s hand shot out and pulled your fuzzy sweater away from your chest. His other hand snuck up your shirt and went fishing around for his phone. But his hands roamed too broadly, lightly squeezing your titty every so often. 

“Lamont!” You yelled. 

He licked his lips and got closer. His breath fanned across your face, a subtle mix of candy and weed. His hand continued to roam while he slowly closed the distance between your lips. He looked at you the entire time, giving you ample opportunity to back away.

But you wanted this. You casted that fishing line out into the ether, so you closed the distance for him. You pressed your lips against his finally. Your dreams didn’t come close. It was nothing like what you thought it would be and everything you dreamt it could. 

His lips were soft against yours. Smooth tongue running over your lips and sloppily slanting against yours. You hummed, low and softly but you were sure he heard it. His hands continued to roam under your shirt, no longer seeking his phone. 

Instead, his hands found your breasts and began to knead them, fingers grappling for your nipple. As soon as his fingers found that little pebble – no bra because you hadn’t felt like throwing on one just to chill with Lamont – he squeezed and rolled it between his fingers.

“Oh shit,” you said against his lips, finally pulling back far enough to get some air. Some room. 

“Mhm,” he moaned. “You think I ain’t been paying attention these past few years?” He asked.

“Wh-what you mean?” You asked. He rolled his lips around yours, kissing you but only just so. His wide nose danced against yours. One thing about high sex that you loved was how sensitive you became. How the little hairs on your skin picked up the different changes in temperature or tingled with every brush of skin. 

“All them nasty ass stories you liked to tell. About how men never hit it how you like,” he said.

He switched his hand to your other titty, seeking your nipple a lot faster. He rolled it in between your fingers and your breath stuttered. 

Already, he was leagues better than half the guys you’d been with. Or perhaps it was your lingering, previously unclaimed chemistry, doing most of the work for you. This was inevitable. Your lips would always meet his. His hands would always press into your skin. 

“You remember that?” You asked.

“Kept hoping it would be me in one of them stories. ‘Cept, I know what I’m doin’,” he said.

You giggled and pushed away from him. “Big fuckin’ words, boy,” you said.

Lamont had a playful frown on his face, considering your words, before he slapped his hands onto the arm rests of your chair. He caged you in your chair while he leaned down for more kisses.

His lips were like little clouds of heaven. Each one sweet, soft, and lazy. He lowered himself to his knees, still too tall for his own good. He kept kissing you, even while his hands went roaming again. 

He pulled your sweater off and took in the white tank underneath. His lips found yours again as if he didn’t want to be gone too long. He mixed in nips and licks to keep you on your toes. He grabbed his phone from out of your tank and placed it on the edge of the switch board.

He returned his attention to your body, kissing and biting you through the fabric of your tank. You felt him, but you didn’t really feel him. You lifted the tank and threw it over your head.

Cool air from the studio hit your upper body and you immediately shivered. Even with the thumping beat and lingering smoke, you weren’t warm enough. Lamont helped you lower your leggings and panties, pulling them off and throwing them across the room.

You were fully naked, staring into his dark eyes while he was still dressed. He leaned back, took in your curves, dips, and valleys with a satisfied grin.

“So that’s what you look like underneath all them damn sweaters. You been keepin’ this from me?” He asked.

He rubbed the goosebumps from your arms, scooting in between your legs and making you spread them wider to accommodate him. He looked you in the eye while he lifted one leg, kissed it, ran his tongue right behind your knee before placing it on the arm rest.

You felt ready to explode. He did the same to your other leg, but trailed more kisses down the length of it before placing it on the arm rest.

“You gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Waat?” You asked. 

He chuckled. “You were just gon’ keep hiding this from me?” He asked.

“I-I wasn’t trynna hide it,” you said. Your words were slow to form and even slower to get out. 

“You wasn’t? Then why I ain’t never get a taste yet?” He asked.

He leaned across your body. His cotton shirt was almost too rough against your skin. You hissed, moving away from him but he moved forward anyway. The shirt tickled your skin but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to giggle. 

Anticipation flipped in your belly, like it was playing hopscotch in there. You didn’t know what he was going to do next. You were on an infinite precipice of waiting.

He didn’t make you wait long. He kissed you, moving his hands between you to brush his fingers along your wet seam. You jerked in the chair but he had you effectively pinned. You had nowhere to go. Trapped in the chair with him covering your naked body. 

You moaned, licked your lips in between kisses, and then went back to feeling those sexy lips on yours. 

His fingers pushed in, separating your pussy lips and dipping into your heated essence. He moaned into your lips, tugging on your bottom lip. “You always get this wet?” He asked.

“Uh-uh,” you said. 

“No? I just bring that out of you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You had no words. With every swipe of his fingers, he pulled them out of your head. Each pass of his fingers around your clit made one more word disappear like air. 

“So that means I get to taste it right?” He asked. He moved his nose against yours and you sighed, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Uh-huh,” you said, lips finding his again and again. His wet, suckling kisses made you see stars behind your eyelids. 

His knuckle nudged into your clit and you hissed, releasing the air in short bursts. “Oh, she a little excited,” he said.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. “Don’t tease me.” 

“Don’t tease you? I like teasing you. I finally know how to shut that attitude up,” he said.

“You too damn cocky,” you moaned. 

“Still running that mouth,” he said. He moved his fingers to dip in and out of your pussy, pushing his fingers deep to his knuckle. Your mouth dropped open, eyes turned bruising. 

He moved his lips to your jaw and kissed down to your neck. He sprinkled kisses across your chest and then licked your nipple into his mouth, suckling. “Oh my god,” you gasped, back lifting from the chair.

Your pussy greedily sucked his fingers inside. “That’s right. Grip them fingers. Show me you like what I’m doing to you. Getting wetter over here, I’m gon’ have to buy a new chair,” he whispered around your nipple.

Your hands came up to play with his locs, rolling them between your fingers and loving the feel of them. You were in sensory overload. Everything was too much and not enough. Lamont’s filthy words had you screaming towards a climax, thighs shaking and pussy gripping him tighter.

“That’s fuckin’ right. Been dyin’ to know what you look like when you cum. You gon’ look like that riding this dick? Huh? How many pretty faces can you make while I’m rearranging your guts?” He asked.

“Lamont!” You twitched. 

He continued to pump his fingers as you calmed down. It was like he was exploring your pussy with his fingers. Trying to gauge how deep you could take him. Your grip tightened around his neck and he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

When you relaxed against the chair, Lamont slowed down his fingers until stopping altogether. He licked his fingers and moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good. You doing okay?” He asked.

You nodded, loosening your grip on his neck. You wiped up run away drool, feeling a bit embarrassed that a little finger action made you cum quicker than a man in a porn store. 

Lamont shook his head, shaking the locs from his face as he pressed his face into your pussy. He took a loud, deep breathe and blew air between your pussy lips.

“Oh shit!” You screamed, hands flying back to his head. You gripped his hair while he began to eat you out in earnest, using his tongue first. 

He leaned back and hummed, slapped your pussy. “Damn,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good.” He was a messy eater, digging in like it was his last meal. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He brought his hands up to roll your nipples between his fingers, squeezing and squeezing until he pinched them.

“Fuck, fuck. Lamont! Damn,” you moaned, biting your lip. Fuck! It felt too good. So damn good with his lips between your thighs and his locs tickling your skin, and your hands digging into his head. Smashing his face into your pussy, giving him free rein to explore this thing between you. 

“Name sound sexy on your lips. Say it again,” he said, coming up for a bite of air. 

“Lamont,” you said with a grin. His eyes flicked to yours while he continued to make out with your pussy.

“Again,” he said, muffled against your wet core. 

Lamont!” You moaned while your orgasm was cresting the surface. Pressure built in your lower belly, getting so close with each new flick. Each new lick. Each new moan that told you he liked what was between your thighs. The thought that you could please him, even by the small act of being wet for him, turned the tide.

Your hand flew back to the back of the chair to steady you while your back arched. “Oh shit, Lamont!” Your neck rolled against the top of the chair while your body twitched and convulsed. Your body turned limp, riding the orgasm wherever it took you. However you looked while you spasmed. 

“Tasting so fuckin’ good. Fuck, I been missing out,” Lamonst said into your pussy. He continued to lap like a cat to cream. “So fuckin’ sweet. So fuckin’ good.” 

He lumbered to his feet, tossing off his white shirt. His chain bounced against his dark skin. His tattoos were darker still, spread out all over his body. You watched him through slitted eyes while he unzipped his pants. 

He freed his dick and rubbed the hardened length. Shit, he was perfect. Big and girthy. It was always the skinniest niggas that packed the biggest punch. It had a slight curve to it and your pussy clenched just seeing it.

He dug into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, flipping it open and grabbing a condom. He tore it open, found the right side, and then pinched the tip. You watched him as he rolled it onto his dick, adjusting here or there until it was fully on.

He pushed your thighs back on the chair. It protested with a loud groan, conflicting with a different beat in the background. Something laid back, lazy, and slow. Light danced over his features while he leaned forward, towering over you bent like a pretzel in his chair.

“You feelin’ aiight?” He asked.

“Yes, nigga!” You said with a smack of your teeth. He chuckled, grabbing your throat with his left hand. Your eyes rolled involuntarily, hand flying to grab his wrist. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To push for more pressure.

He obliged you, squeezing harder until you were ready to cum just from that. “You must need some dick to get you right,” he said. 

“Umph, yesss,” you moaned. 

He used his right hand to grip his dick and run it through your damp folds, getting the condom slick with your wetness. He pushed in slowly. You hissed, pushing against his thighs. 

“Uh-uh, don’t push me away. Move them hands,” he said.

“But Lamont–”

“Move. Them. Hands,” he growled, getting close to your face and squeezing your neck.

You moved your hands with a whine. He was too damn big. He rolled his hips, sliding inside of you and working his way deeper. Your hands flew back to his thighs, pushing at him.

“Move them fuckin’ hands,” he rasped. 

“Please,” you begged. You were going to pass out. There was too much pleasure. Too much desire and lust. Too much of him. His scent, his sighs, his scorching looks. He lit fires in your veins that made you whimper and pout.

“Move them fuckin’ hands right now,” he said.

Again, your hands slid away from his sweat-slick thighs with a whine. The sound was needy and desperate. You had no way of slowing this down. Slowing it down to a pace you could quickly adjust to.

His dick didn’t hurt, he just stretched you deliciously. So much so that you had a goofy smile spread across your lips like icing on a cake. You moved your hands back to his hand on your neck.

He rolled and moved his hips, stroking into you with deep, long thrusts at a steady pace that stole your breath. You whined, choppy hums in your throat. “Why you doin’ this to meeee,” you moaned. 

“‘Cause I been waiting too long to get in this pussy. I’ma enjoy that shit,” he said. He smirked and dropped down to kiss you while he stroked deeper still.

You sank onto his dick while he rolled his hips, moaning with every glide. He lifted his head and rolled his neck, closing his eyes. You watched his face while he stroked, watched as he found some type of groove like your body was the switchboard and he was making a complicated beat.

He lined up perfectly. Your back arched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there, right there, Lamont,” you moaned.

“Right there?” He asked. He kept hitting your sweet spot, not deviating in the slightest. 

“Right there, oh my god, I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned.

“Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy grippin’ this dick. She feel so fuckin’ good. Wrapped around this dick. This what you needed? Huh? This what you needed? Them other niggas ain’t have all this for you, did they?”

Each of his questions grew fainter as your orgasm came closer and closer. Your hand pushed against his chest. Your eyes were too far in the back of your head. You were worrying a groove into your bottom lip by biting too hard. 

“You still with me? This dick got yo tongue?” He asked.

“I’m-” You came with a loud moan, louder than you had ever moaned before. You twitched in the chair, the groans from it sounded violent. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Feel so good, Lamont!” You cried out. Yelled out. 

It was a good thing that you were in a proper studio and there was no one around to hear you. Had you been at your place, your neighbors would know his fucking name. 

Your hands scratched at his stomach while he chuckled and kept stroking. “Fuck. You squeezin’ the fuck outta me. You ain’t trynna let me go, huh? Now that you know I know how to hit it right. What got you screaming. What got you moaning. What got you cummin’ on this dick like that,” he said. 

“Oh baby,” you moaned. 

“I’m baby now? What happened to my name?” He asked.

At this point, you didn’t know your own name. You clenched around his dick and he cursed, slamming into you one more time before you felt him twitch inside. You had an errant fantasy about him cumming inside you, spilling his fat load into you and then fucking it into you. 

You tucked that particular one to the back of your mind while Lamont dropped against you, loosening his grip around your throat. Your matching pants and gasps made the moment soft but fuzzy around the edges. Like when you first woke up from a good nap and didn’t know what year it was or what you were doing beforehand.

Lamont slipped out of you, stumbling back. He took off the condom, tied the ends, and threw it in the nearest trash can. He sat in own chair. He tucked himself back in but didn’t zip up his pants. 

You slowly lowered your legs from the chair, feeling thoroughly fucked out. You looked towards Lamont who was studying you in the same way. He smiled first. Your smile matched his as the gravity of what you just did sunk in. 

Sunk down deep into your bones. There was no going back from this. There was no way to pretend this didn’t exist. That he wasn’t just deep enough in your guts to still feel the lingering effects. You felt empty without him. 

“We wasted too much fuckin’ time,” he said softly. You nodded and licked your lips.

You tapped the tips of your fingers trying to reorient yourself. Bring yourself down to reality. The reality of you with Lamont. You smiled. “Let’s not waste anymore.”

You had sex again on his red, leather couch. Nasty, intense sex where his hands were back around your throat, he was stroking deep in your guts, and staring into your eyes while he continued to shatter your world over and over again. You grinned and giggled in between his nasty words and your faint pleas for mercy. 

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but you were excited to find out.

THE END

Psst, over here! The Secret Lamont Files.

[jaeminify]

a game of tic tac toe.

synopsis ☆ mark would much rather spend his afternoon lazing around his apartment with just you in his clothes with a movie playing on in the background, but hanging out with his friends around was quite fun too.

warning/s ☆ mention of food/amount of food being eaten but it isn't specific!!

author's note ☆ hii! this is one of my second works posted onto this account and compared to my jaemin one shot, this one is much more mundane and while a little suggestive -- not so as compared to finders keepers >< please stay tuned for more works from me!! i'll do my best to put out better imagines and one shots <3 any feedback is much appreciated!

Mark can't seem to keep his hands off of you.

While that may seem like a regular occurrence, his hands are reaching out for yours more than usual, his head rests on your shoulder at least twice as more times when he's sat next to you, and when you're seated beside his close friend, he can't help (he could, he doesn't care) but pull you as close as possible even when the three of you are sat in a booth across his other friends.

"Need something, handsome?" You whisper as your eyes scan through the menu he's holding up for you.

He has one arm slung over your shoulder, holding the menu on the table for the both of you to read. It's easier for you, but the display of affection is a little surprising for you.

Discreetly, Mark leans his head down to give you a kiss. He lets his lips linger on yours one last time when he gives you a second peck, then he kisses the top of your head.

"You're so pretty today." He exhales, resting his head on your shoulder as he points to the meal he wants. "Wanna share that? Looks good."

"That's too heavy," You pout "We have dinner with your family tonight. I don't want to be rude by not ordering."

"I'll finish whatever's on your plate baby, I got you." Mark laughs but finds your concern over the tiniest of things (to him) endearingly cute. He likes that you pay attention to detail, even if it isn't so obvious to him.

"You could just sit there and they'd love you," He reassures. "I know I already do."

"Mark," You laugh. "The way you love me and the way they do is completely different."

"What's different in the way I love you?"

"Mark—"

"Okay, lovebirds! Need you two to put your hands in. We're playing tic tac toe and we need witnesses." Yuta belts, smiling innocently when Mark throws him a glare over your shoulder while you laugh at the paper they show you.

Tic Tac Toe Tournament is written at the top of their paper; you don't know where they got it from, but it's written in Jaehyun's writing so you know who was the mastermind was.

"It's gonna be Yuta versus Jaehyun first, then Jungwoo and Taeyong."

"Hey, how come I don't get to play?" Mark pays more attention this time, sitting up to accentuate his voice more. The arm that was looped over your shoulder instinctively drops lower to your waist, resting there.

"You were too busy staring at Y/N to even hear our question," Taeyong laughs, looking over at the couple with fondness in his eyes.

Even if he does teases Mark at how dense he becomes to his surroundings when you're around, he thinks you two are a good match that he adores.

"Wish you could've seen yourself. It was like cupid shot arrows in your eyes." Yuta grins.

You lean back into Mark's embrace and pinch his cheeks, not thinking too much about how his friends were with you two. You were aware that certain boys disliked affection or being coddled by their girlfriend when they were around their friends, but you were lucky because Mark never minded that. He'd even be the one to proudly ask for more hugs when you were around his friends.

Jaehyun, who had grown accustomed to your antics, shakes his head with a laugh.

"Not even cupid could compare," Jaehyun grins. "Cmon, pick a side." Jaehyun slides the paper over to you.

"I have to pick a side?"

"Have you been to a football match, Y/N?" Taeyong asks, smiling to show you his words were lighthearted. "You either sit on one side of the stadium, you can't cheer for two teams."

"Or so they say," Yuta winks at you, making Mark throw a tissue at him.

"Okay, I'll root for Yuta and Taeyong."

"Whaaat! Y/N I've known you the longest," Jaehyun whines.

"I cheered for you during your FIFA game, I can't keep cheering for one person."

"Especially when she has a boyfriend, Guys. Right here, by the way." Mark says, poking fun when he raises an arm to point at himself. "Sucks that I'm not playing, Y/N's great support."

"Her support for you would be a pity vote."

"In tic tac toe?"

"Especially in tic tac toe."

"That makes no—"

"What did I miss?" Jungwoo comes back to the booth with his phone, having left it at the theatre hall they watched their movie in previously.

"We're playing tic tac toe." Yuta says, beckoning him to hurry back into the seat so they could start playing.

"I'm against taeyong again?" Jungwoo squints his eyes, "Piece of cake. Hope you didn't bet against me Y/N."

"Not betting." You point out.

"So you voted for Taeyong?" He asked dryly.

"...Yes."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Can we start the game?" Jaehyun asks, impatiently grasping the pencil in his hand trying to pass one to Yuta.

The four boys start the game in front of you and Mark. The two of you don't really have to be paying attention much since it was a simple game, but you watched with interest when Taeyong would make side comments at Yuta placing the X's in the wrong boxes while Jaehyun drew hearts instead of O's for his turn.

In the midst of their bantering, Mark rests his chin on your shoulder and subconsciously, you place a hand on his knee to let him know in a subtle way that you're here and that you're still paying attention to him even when you tell Jungwoo to stop smudging Yuta's X's.

"I could totally win at tic tac toe." Mark mumbles just for you to hear.

You can't help but smile at how sulky he's gotten, knowing that he's only showing a straight face to not let the guys tease him. He doesn't really care if they do, he just likes sulking to you more than them.

"You could baby," You say to him, low enough only for him to hear. "I'd even cheer you on."

"I know you would, Angel." He smiles, "With how pretty you sound in bed your voice is music to me."

"Hey," your head turns sharply to face him, placing a finger up between you and his lips, Mark has to bite back a smile at how cute you are, choosing to kiss the tip of your finger before he lays his head on your shoulder again.

He pokes your side to get your attention but your focused suddenly shifts to the match between Jungwoo and Taeyong. Jaehyun wins the first round against Yuta, the latter saying he wasn't focused because he hasn't played in a while.

"How do you even lose at tic tac toe?"

"You're living it, Yuta. That's literally you."

"Shut up and start the game," Yuta groans, passing Taeyong his pencil after hearing his friend tease him.

"You sure you don't wanna change your mind, Y/N?" Jungwoo pokes fun, drawing the lines for the game to start after he scribbles down his and Taeyong's name.

You shake your head at Mark's friend, "Nope. I trust Tae, I know he'll do well."

"Wish I had that confidence," Taeyong mumbles.

"It's just tic tac toe..." Mark breathes out, shaking his head when he sees how worked up his friends are getting over one game while waiting for your dessert.

Mark tunes out the conversation, only turning his head to look over at what you guys are doing when he hears you laugh, or when you move forward that Mark doesn't feel your skin on his that makes him tune back in to what the guys are saying.

Mark almost falls asleep when he realises it's been drizzling outside, raindrops pattering softly onto the glass pane he leans on, but when he feels you move again, he turns his head again and notices the way you've now brushed your hair to rest on one side of your shoulder. The clasp of your necklace sits prettily on your neck, making Mark realise you dressed up more than usual today.

Don't get him wrong, you looked gorgeous in anything you wore (much more when you were wearing his clothes, he would debate), but what catches his eyes is the way your shirt lightly raises the more you lean forward. Granted only Mark is privy to see such exposure of your skin; let alone your back, but his mind gets the best of him and before he can stop himself, his hand reaches out to lightly graze his hand over your waist.

You jump a little at how light Mark's touch is, but you don't pull away from your argument — whatever it was about with Jaehyun — to look at Mark.

Mark's a little dazed and empty-headed when he focuses on your skin against his palm. It's not like he was looking to start anything, he loved holding you. Maybe physical touch was his love language, but he liked having you near him. You did too, but Mark enjoyed it maybe a tad bit more.

When you finally scoot back to be closer to Mark after concluding who had won this match, you rest your back against Mark's chest and he locks you close to him, the hand that had been tracing random patterns on your skin only slid to the front of your body to hug you. Mark quietly watched the next game of tic tac toe begin between Taeyong and Jaehyun.

Looks like you won both of the bets; even if no money was involved.

You laugh at something Jungwoo says and Mark feels your laughter through your body against his and soon, like most days, he's smiling against the top your head, leaving light kisses on it.

The four boys get caught up in their game, demanding another rematch, this time between Yuta and Jungwoo.

When you tell them to handle this game on their own, Mark volunteers to play the next match against Taeyong.

Although Mark would prefer a quiet day in spent with you with movies being played in the background while the both of you lazed around in your most casual attire, he couldn't lie that moments with his friends and you were just as good.

His favourite people with his person; his most adored person in his world as of right now. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[roxtron]

YIPEE IT'S FINALLY DONE

spent the past like, month redrawing the sb cover art (original for side-by-side reference)

rambling under the cut

WOOO I'm so happy to finally have this done. I spent forever working on it, I wish I kept track but I'm pretty sure it took a month to fully finish, I've been working on it like every day for the past couple of weeks and I'm really happy to finally have it finished :D I'm really proud of the rendering/shading on this one, the text was probably difficult which is why it looks the least accurate. I didn't want to just re-render it and re-draw the human characters so I changed the designs a little bit for this, first time I've drawn any of them. I thought it'd be fun to make their desgins fit a bit closer to the cartoony art around the pizzaplex and just smaller details I find fun. (if monty is allowed to have spikes on his chest cavity i think freddy should be allowed fluff.. he looks so bald, if you count chica's feathers he's literally the only animatronic without hair LMAO) I accidentally made some colors a bit more pastel or desaturated but overall I tried to replicate the rendering as well as I can, it was really good practice for understanding lighting better and stuff. (Roxy had like, 3 different color light sources I think? Monty had the most though..) But anyway! I'm really happy I got this done so I can work on other stuff lol. I might use it for background stuff and I kept all the assets so I can edit them for pfps if i or other people want in the future. Hope you enjoyed :)