#those conference room chairs my god

[spockvarietyhour]

Still holding out hope for a DS9 treatment a la TNG.

[targaryenluvs]

— BEST LIFE

pairings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (past), harvey specter x fem!juniorpartner!reader (present)

summary: you’d once been apart of the bau team, but after a situation and a falling out with your boyfriend you moved on. what happens when the bau needs your help on a case, which your boyfriend harvey is also assisting on?

warnings: angsty, asshole harvey cause duh, jealousy (spencer) kisses, cute harvey

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this literally sprouted in my mind and i just needed to write it lmao, if you haven’t watched suits or criminal minds go right now‼️ they’re both my husbands 😋

when jessica had called you into her office, you’d been calm. apparently one of your cases, which had you and harvey working together, was now of fbi interest. your client was currently suing a company for faulty wiring in his home, which caused it to burn down. and it was apparently not the case at all, the home was suspected to be tied into a serial arsonist.

what you didn’t expect was for your client to be accused of being the arsonist.

“you’re sitting here,”

“uh-huh.”

“telling me,”

“yup.”

“that i’m supposed to believe that richard jeena, the fifty three year old little man, is a serial arsonist?”

you shut the file infront of you, meeting harvey’s eye, “sweetheart?” he uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with a sweet smile, “yes?” you leaned forwards as well, “that, is exactly what i’m telling you.” harvey leaned back into his chair, disbelief riddling his face.

“and the fbi is flying here?” you nodded along, “fbi agents?” you nodded again, “probably field agents or whatever they’re called. they’ll sit in on the trial, survey the scenes, collect evidence and all.” the familiar clicking of donna’s heels brought a smile to your face, “profilers.”

your heart dropped with one word, “what’d you say?” donna made her way to the two of you, plopping herself down in the chair next to you, “it’s those fbi profilers. yknow, they look at the room and can tell you if he’s left or right handed, blonde, mommy issues and all. nice little packaged criminal profile in seconds.” you couldn’t help correcting her, having dealt with your fair share of assumptions in your years as a profiler.

“that’s not how it works,” harvey swiveled in his chair as donna looked your way, “oh?” harvey smirked as you sighed, “that’s not how it works, we don’t just walk into a room and have it speak to us. we survey the place, fresh eyes and open minds. we look for the things that everyone else seems to miss. we put ourselves in the minds of the criminals themselves, to get a better understanding of them, why they did it and all. you work your way back, start from the victim maybe, see where they’ve been, what they did in the last week, who they talk to. sometimes the killers in their personal circle but not always. every case is different, we try our best to provide an accurate, unbiased profile.”

“i want to take you on my desk, right now.” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriends words as donna stared intently, “we. you said ‘we’, as if you know what they do and their job. oh my god, you use to be one. that’s the job you had before coming here! you have a degree in criminal justice, and you said your last job you were at for what, seven years?”

“i graduated high school early, entered harvard at a young age, graduated, entered the fbi at the same time as a— friend. was also studying law, sat the exam in new york since it’s where i wanted to be. finished up at harvard, i was mid to late twenties when i left, wound up here and am now a junior partner, capiche?”

“could just say your age.” mike stood by the door with a wad of files in his hand, “i’d rather die, mike.” harvey laughed, “please don’t incentivise my lovely girlfriend to killing herself mike.”

“as nice as it is to see you all bonding, and trust me, it hits me right in the heart, jessica wants yourself and y/n in the conference room.” louis spoke from the door as you stood up, “first of all, trust with you is fickle, second, tell it to hit you in the face next time lou.” you smacked harvey’s arm as he held his arms up, “friendly fire, i’ll put it out later.” you shoved him by his back before smiling at louis, “i’m sorry about him, he’s not a big fan of the fbi.” louis nodded as he followed you, “duly noted.”

“she’s right, damn pigs.” harvey joked as you approached the conference room, “your highness,” you grinned, “you never treat me so nicely when we’re at home harvey.” he held his hand over his heart, “now don’t lie sweetheart, i’m as nice as mike.” the snort that left your lips had harvey doubling over, “oh please, nice as mike? you wish.”

your giggles were drained from your throat as you stared at half of your old team.

derek morgan, emily prentiss, penelope garcia & spencer reid. the last name, and face you’d still not looked at yet. thankfully, harvey noticed your tenseness, “y/n? sweetheart, you alright?” there it was, that word, sweetheart. spencer couldn’t help but wonder, was it just a word? you always use to call him it, before you dated, teasing of course.

“yeah, i’m fine harv.” he nodded, even if he didn’t believe you he could always ask later on. pulling out his and yours chairs, you sat next to one another. “harvey specter & y/n l/n?” emily questioned as you nodded, “the one and only. and then there’s y/n.” harvey leaned back in his chair, whilst derek stared him down.

what an ass. is what he wanted to say, it was also what he assumed emily was thinking. “emily.” she glanced over at you, surprised at you using her name, “it’s nice to see you all. how’ve you been?” and the bewildered expression was wiped clean off your face, no remnant left. you were a damn lawyer, if there was one thing you’d learned, it was to keep a straight face.

penelope smiled, “we’ve been good, y/n. but we miss you, back home. you’re a lawyer now huh?” you grinned, “the one and only.” harvey squeezed your hand, you squeezed back. “youngest junior partner, ever. my dream. just hoping to make it to senior partner soon, take the title of youngest out from under this guy. i’m happy here, i hope you are too. but down to business.”

and for the next few hours, you’d sat and listened. overlooking the case files, giving statements, reviewing security footage from surrounding houses. at some point mike ended up in the room, having met with your client and being harvey’s associate.

you’d had the pleasure of introducing spencer and mike, the two undeniably similar. you felt comfortable, even betting with penelope that if they touched the world would implode.

“and how much would he loose?”

“127,478.23.” mike and spencer rushed out as the rest of you fought to suppress your smiles, “well y/n, seems like we’ve got a genius-off.” derek laughed as the two men looked towards you, “don’t worry i’ll still love you mike.” mike scoffed at your words, “what makes you think i’d loose?”

“because i know you, and i know reid. trust me, you’d loose.”

reid. not spencer, spence, sweetheart. none of the above, you’d used his last name. as if he was nothing more than a colleague.

“okay, we’ve been here for far too long. and as much as i’d like to sit here and slowly rot, i’d rather do that at the restaurant i have booked for dinner with two lovely ladies. y/n and i have a trial date tomorrow, 8.00am. i think, we bring him along, show him what’s to happen if he doesn’t confess, than toast victory champagne when said confession rolls through. how’s that sound?” if derek’s grin was any indicator, besides a big fat yes?

spencer wanted to puke, ‘lovely ladies?’ multiple women? this man was insufferable. you gathered yourself and harvey’s files, a hand gestured towards you, the last file in said hand. “thanks reid.” he smiled, “no problem-o.” your eyebrows furrowed, “never change do you?” spencer didn’t have time to respond, his brain was too busy blowing a fuse as harvey opened the door for you. “ready for dinner lovely lady?” they all heard harvey ask as you nodded, the four watched as you walked out, his hand on your back as he pecked you on the lips.

“reid, you alright?” derek’s hand rested on his shoulder, “i’m fine, why wouldn’t i be fine? don’t we have places to be? hotch would want to know their on our side, that they reviewed all the information. they’ll help us get a confession out of him.” derek sighed, “because you just saw your ex, who you haven’t seen in years. the one you never got over, happily living in new york as comfortable as possible. a successful business woman and lawyer, happily in a relationship.”

spencer shook his head, “you don’t know that.” emily directed a sympathetic smile his way, “we sat with them for three hours. we watched them laugh, bounce off of eachother for theories, quite literally finish eachothers sentences. order food for eachother without asking, and get their meals right. they held hands when they could, he continued to call her sweetheart. and now they’re going out to dinner.”

spencer’s shoulder dropped, they were right. he’d come here excited at the possibility of seeing you again, talking to you. maybe even beginning again with you. instead, you’re apparently with some suited up asshole. he was annoyingly sweet when it came to you though.

as if the whole three hours weren’t a slap in the face, harvey’s voice rung out through the hallway, “there’s my lovely lady!” rachel, who they’d all met earlier on, was currently guiding a young girl to harvey’s arms. “daddy!” if hearts were boats, than his was sinking. he may have had a chance beforehand, but now?

“is mommy here?” your daughter was currently situated on harvey’s hip, “why don’t you hug her and find out?” your arms were out in the open as your daughter squealed before running to you, “d’you have a fun day with rach?” she nodded her head rapidly as yourself and harvey smiled, he stood behind you, chest to back. his hand rested on your waist as the other moved aside hair from her face, before moving hair from your own.

“now, my lovely ladies, it’s time for dinner.”

lovely ladies, for once, spencer had made a mistake. harvey was going out with multiple women, but not in the way he thought. his daughter and the mother of his child, you.

his words and actions meant nothing, they would mean nothing. you were happy, so happy. you had everything you wanted, a loving marriage and man, a gorgeous family. something spencer hadn’t given you. a man who knew you could hold your own. spencer knew that too, but he couldn’t help himself back then.

right now, you were living your best life.

[just-aake]

Holiday Teasings

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A festive new addition to Natasha’s usual outfit surprises all of those around her.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 1446

It was the holiday season, but that doesn’t mean work stops at the SHIELD headquarters. Even now, agents continue to tirelessly carry out their tasks and missions, the hallways bustling with conversation and hurried steps.

All of them trained to be efficient and timely with their duties. However, even the most experienced agents find themselves falling silent and stopping in shock at the sight that passes by them.

Normally, the presence of Black Widow would cause anyone to stare in awe, but today, the reason for such a pause is different. 

Only those close to her or brave enough would ever dare to ask or comment about it though, as proven by Agent Hill when Natasha arrives at the door of today’s meeting room. 

“Wow,” Maria exclaims, blinking in surprise as she examines the widow’s outfit. “What in the world are you wearing?”

“It’s just a sweater, Hill. Let’s not make a big deal about it,” Natasha says pointedly, crossing her arms, which only causes the bells at the cuffs of the sleeve to jingle in response.

Maria quickly raises her clipboard to cover her mouth, hiding her smile as she hums and nods in acknowledgment.

Natasha’s bright red sweater stands out amidst the typical dark SHIELD uniforms, easily capturing the curiosity of onlookers around her.

Had it been just a plain-colored sweater, maybe she wouldn’t attract as much attention.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. 

The design on the front depicts the classic suit of this holiday, complete with cotton fluff, a belt buckle, and jingling bells.

The two enter the meeting room together, and Maria continues her questioning.

“How long do you have to wear that?”

“Midnight,” Natasha responds as she takes her usual seat at the large conference table.

Steve comes in the door soon after, and after a brief pause of surprise, he gives his usual nod in greeting to the two and takes his seat beside her.

Natasha raises an amused brow at him.

“No comments?”

He shakes his head firmly.

“Nope, I know better.”

Immediately after his words, a figure comes rushing through the door. 

“Oh my god, it’s true!” Tony exclaims gleefully. He shakes Bruce’s shoulders excitedly when the scientist enters the room.

“Quick, where is a matching hat to complete the outfit?”

Bruce brushes off his hand and distances himself from Tony when he sees the warning glare the Widow sends their way.

“Must have left it back at the lab,” Bruce responds nervously with a shrug before going to his seat.

Like Steve, besides a brief pause and a curious tilt of her head, Wanda does not comment on her attire when she enters.

After a moment, Sam strolls into the room, giving Natasha a grave look. 

“You may need to check on your ride, Nat.”

Natasha straightens in her chair at his words, her brows pinching in confusion about who would ever mess with her motorcycle.

“What do you mean?” 

Sam gestures over his shoulders, nodding seriously.

“Yeah, I just flew in from the roof, and I didn’t see your reindeers or sleigh anywhere.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and slumps back in her chair as Sam laughs at her reaction, patting her shoulder in jest before taking his seat.

Tony leans forward across the table excitedly.

“Oh, I have a question, and be honest with me here, Romanoff.” He pauses for a dramatic effect before saying teasingly. 

“Am I on the naughty list?”

Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs in disgust, shooting him a deadpan glare.

Before she can respond, Natasha catches something at the corner of her eyes, and her glare swiftly turns to the Sokovian Avenger across the table, who fumbles with her phone in hand at the sudden attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Wanda gives her a sheepish smile, waving her phone lightly. 

“I told Clint, and he asked if I could send a picture of you since he can't be here to see it.”

At her apologetic expression, Natasha sighs and waves her hand in resignation, giving Wanda permission.

Tony laughs and claps his hand in excitement at the sound her action makes, remarking, “Hey, can you shake your hands again? The bells really bring out the holiday spirit in here.”

Natasha is about to tell Tony where he can shove his holiday spirit when a stack of folders thrown against the table interrupts her, catching everyone’s attention. 

Fury stands at the end of the table with a reprimanding expression.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s get this meeting started. No more jokes about Romanoff’s outfit.”

“Thanks, Fury,” Natasha says.

Without a beat of hesitation, he replies in his serious tone.

“Anytime, Santa.”

The whole room erupts into laughter, and the meeting ends up having to start much later after that comment.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Your phone chimes, signaling the end of your timer, and you go to the oven to check on your cookies.

Removing the tray of freshly baked cookies from the oven, you place it carefully on the table to cool off. Taking the baking gloves off your hand, you bend slightly to examine the baked treats to make sure that they are perfect.

As you straighten up, your back bumps into another body as familiar hands wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

“Mmm…those smell lovely,” Natasha compliments next to your ear.

You smile and lean into Natasha’s embrace, turning your head to greet her with a soft kiss on her cheek.

Natasha returns your affection, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder, before mumbling.

“It’s not even midnight, yet you’re already making my prize, makes me think you didn’t even plan on winning.”

You laugh lightly at her words before admitting.

“A deal’s a deal. Besides, I wanted to make some extra ones for you to bring in tomorrow too.”

Your hands fall atop hers, clasped around your front, as you play with the bells at the cuffs. The sound rings joyfully in your shared space.

“The others didn’t tease you too badly, did they?”

Natasha shrugs nonchalantly before responding.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“That’s good,” you reply, nodding your head.

As you get lost in her warmth, Natasha moves to take a cookie from the tray, but you notice and quickly slap her hand away lightly in a warning. 

“No, they’re still hot,” you chastise her.

Natasha chuckles at you before turning you around in her arms and leaning in closer, her voice lowering to a tempting tone. 

“Can I get my other prize while I wait then?”

With an amused smile, you cup her face and pull her in for a kiss. 

Natasha’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer in response and deepening the kiss.

After a moment, you pull back, your smile widening when Natasha tries to follow before stopping with a pout when you hold her face firmly in place to look into her eyes.

“By the way, Clint showed Laura and the kids a picture of you in the sweater, and they want you to wear it at their Christmas party this weekend,” you tell her.

“Will I get another reward if I wear this again?” Natasha says jokingly. She doesn’t need any more persuasion to wear the sweater again if it’s for the kids.

You tap your lips as if in fake contemplation before giving her a teasing smirk.

“Well, I did get you something that I think you will enjoy seeing me wear,” you say, leaning in close to her. 

Natasha’s eyes glint in excitement before whispering against your lips.

“Yeah?”

Before she can bring you into another kiss, you pull away swiftly, turning around to check on the cookies.

“Guess we have to wait until after the party to see if you will get your prize,” you tease over your shoulder.

Natasha lets out an amused huff, shaking her head fondly at you, before sneaking a cookie from one of the piles that you’re making.

“Natasha!” You chastise with a small laugh.

She takes a purposeful bite of the cookie, wearing a victorious grin.

You roll your eyes fondly at her, then turn your attention to the piles of cookies in front of you. 

Retrieving your already prepared festive goodie bags, each labeled with the names of your Avenger friends, you begin to separate and place them alongside the corresponding piles you’ve created. 

When you finish, you clap your hands determinedly before declaring, “Alright, for each teasing comment they made to you today, they lose a cookie.”

Natasha’s grin widens in realization, and she gives you a quick kiss on your cheek, returning to her previous position of hugging you from behind before listing out the guilty parties.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading, hope you all have Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

[soullumii]

masked up | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: joel fucks you while wearing his gas mask

warnings/tags: 18+ content MDNI, very self indulgent smut (unprotected piv oops, mask kink 🤭, vaginal fingering, riding joel cowgirl because that is for sure his fav position, little bit of a bulge kink, oral [m receiving]) descriptions of blood and violence, established relationship (married!! whoop whoop!!), making joel call you “my wife” because i’m weak for that shit, soft!joel, protective!joel, this got sappy, pet names galore as usual, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i can’t explain how i feel about joel wearing a gas mask. i swear every time he put it on while i was playing tlou pt 1 i moaned /hj. just HEAR ME OUT PLEEK. JUST WATCH THIS (it’s a tiktok edit) OK YOULL UNDERSTAND.

You don’t mean for the mask to become a thing.

But it does. It becomes a Thing™.

It all starts and ends with Joel, like good and bad things usually do. And this thing is no exception.

But it all begins with something bad.

Coming across spores nowadays is few and far between for you. You're not usually on patrol much, your job being to tend to the crops in the greenhouse and feed the livestock. 

Today, though, you’re not so lucky. With Tommy out sick, you’re filling in for him. Thankfully, though, you’re paired with Joel, your very lovely and very experienced in the art of dealing with infected, husband. So you know if you come across spores, your husband will have your back. 

Spores are annoying, but they're manageable with gas masks. When you and Joel enter an abandoned office building on a new patrol route and you catch sight of the little specks floating through the air, you immediately put yours on, Joel doing just the same. 

The floaty fungal fuckers themselves aren't scary, especially not when you have the gas masks to keep you safe. It's just what waits in the shadows that scares you, because where there are spores, there's infected. Lots of them. 

And usually interspersed in that conglomerate of stalkers and clickers are the big, meaty ones. The kind that have been sitting and festering for years. The kind that could literally rip you into pieces, regardless if you have a gas mask on or not. Bloaters, yeah, those big shits. The fucking bane of your existence.

Unfortunately, the one lazing around in this abandoned office building must somehow pick up on your undying hate for them because within minutes of you and Joel looting the place for all it’s worth, it comes clambering out of what used to be a conference room.

It's a big one. Noticeably disgusting, outrageously hideous, growling and slobbering as it slings mycotoxin at you. It's not very fast, and yet it's so fucking terrifying as it lumbers after you, because you know exactly what it’s capable of. 

You're shooting at it with whatever arrows you have left in your backpack (though they’re mostly just bouncing off it’s thick fungal exterior), and Joel's crunching out shot after shot with his shotgun, but neither of you are hardly making a dent.

God, you wish Joel had brought the flamethrower he keeps in his storage room. You’d make a Molotov cocktail, but with the other infected hot on your heels, there's no time. 

A stalker comes crawling out of the shadows behind you, knocking over an office chair in the process, and you whip around to lodge an arrow right between its eyes. Two more come swinging out of nowhere, and you're so focused on trying to get rid of them so that they can't reach you—can't reach Joel—that you don't realize you've left your back unattended until a large, gross excuse for a hand lands hard on your shoulder, lugging you backwards with inhuman strength. 

Joel shouts your name with increased panic, and you hear his gun fire off more rounds into the bloater's back, but it doesn't care, it's hands finding your head and jaw, gripping you so tight you think it might shatter your mandible.

"Joel!" You scream, eyes squeezing shut as the pain in your jaw multiplies.

This motherfucker is about to rip you clean in half—

You think this is it, I'm about to die in front of my husband by being torn from the jaw down, but, thankfully, death never comes. Instead, the bloater releases you with a pained roar as the sound of squelching fills your ears. You manage to back away enough to watch Joel tug the bloater off of you by the handle of his machete, the blade lodged in its chest. 

He pulls the machete out only to swing it down in an arc straight into its head, repeatedly. Blood splatters all over him as he bludgeons the wretched thing. Over his veiny arms, his black mask. It sinks into the fabric of his flannel.

And funnily enough, this is when it becomes a thing.

The bloater crumples to the floor with a gurgling groan as it finally dies, and Joel turns to you, chest heaving and eyes wide and panicked. They soften, relieved when he catches sight of you physically intact, though, mentally a bit checked out.

Whether that’s because you’re in shock or because your brain is rewiring as it files this new image of Joel away, who knows? Maybe it's a little bit of both. 

“Are you okay?" Joel asks, sheathing his machete to look you over. His hands catch your jaw gently, a welcome contrast to the bloater. He turns it this way and that, checking for any damage or possible bites.

A traitorous thrumming starts up between your thighs as he stares you down through the lenses of his mask. 

"I'm fine, Joel," you say, breathlessly. "Thanks."

“Thank god,” he squeezes your arm lovingly, grateful to see you in one piece. “Let’s get outta here.”

- - -

"Do you like the masks?" You ask him eventually, when you're back outside, the setting sun warming you pleasantly as the tall borders of Jackson rise in the distance.

You both took the masks off the minute you escaped the spores, but a part of you secretly hoped Joel would keep his on.

Joel scratches at his graying beard. "They keep us safe. Don't feel much for 'em at all really." He glances sidelong at you, a curious quirk to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug, "No reason."

Just trying to figure out if you'd wear it during sex if I asked you to, that's all.

“Alright, somethin's up," Joel says. "You've got the look.” 

“What look?” 

“The sex look.” 

You halt in your hike, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Joel fails to stifle a chuckle. “You’re horny. That’s the face you make when you want to have sex. Like you wanna eat me alive.” 

Shit. He’s found you out.

“How would you know?”

He blinks. “Honey, I’m married to ya. Of course I’m gonna know.”

Valid. Still-

"I’m not horny," you try to defend, though you've never been good at lying, and based on the self satisfied smile Joel wears, you know he sees right through you. "We almost died, Joel. Maybe this is my 'loving every minute of my life' look."

"I know that look. This ain't it."

Jesus Christ.

You sigh heavily. “Okay, yes. Maybe I am a little horny.” 

"Because…what? We almost died? That gets you goin'?" 

"No," you grit. You can’t even look at him when you say it. “It’s the mask.”

His brows knit. “The...gas mask?”

You nod tightly. 

“I don’t think I’m followin’,” Joel says. 

Is he seriously asking you to spell it out for him?

You take a deep, steadying breath. You don’t quite know how to phrase this, so you just go for it. “Watching you save my life in the gas mask just sort of woke something up in me. It was hot.” 

“Oh.”

Yup. He definitely thinks you’re crazy.

“So, what, you want me to fuck you while wearin' the mask or somethin’?”

Heat pools heavy and thick between your thighs at his words, your heart hammering behind your ribs. “Something like that, yeah.” 

Joel straightens. “...Okay. I can do that.” 

Your head whips up. “Wait, seriously?”

“You’re my wife. If you asked me to fuck you with a damn jester’s hat on I’d do it.” 

You laugh. “Okay, let’s not go that far.”

“I’d really do it for you.”

“It sounds like you actually want to wear it.”

He chuckles, and you two resume walking back to Jackson. “Alright, so, gas mask on tonight,” he says. “Any other requests?” 

“Since you’re asking…maybe you could wear a cowboy hat sometime…”

- - -

"Jesus, you're really lovin' this," Joel muses.

You're laid out beneath him in your shared bed, his long calloused fingers deep in your cunt, his thumb circling slowly over your clit, drawing out your pleasure, stretching it like taffy. Your jeans are still on, unbuttoned and unzipped, and your soiled underwear is pulled to the side as Joel’s hands unwind you. 

You're grasping onto his muscled forearm for dear life, moans leaking out of you in a steady stream as he fucks his fingers into you, curling up to stroke that spot that has you clenching down hard on his digits as the burning starts in your toes, climbing up your thighs. 

He looks so fucking good with that mask situated over his handsome face, his peppered hair flipping out over the straps that keep it snug on him. His eyes are dark through the lenses as they watch you unravel before him, almost black from how dilated his pupils are.

His jeans are still on, his erection straining hard against his zipper. The flannel he wore earlier is gone, giving you the perfect view of his toned chest and the dark hair that dusts it. There's still some blood stains on his mask. Every time you catch sight of them, your body ignites with something carnal and hungry.

"’Cause, you look hot," you huff between moans. 

Joel laughs, deep and rumbling, and the mask warbles it a bit, adding a distortion to his voice that for some reason makes everything happening so much hotter. “I still don’t really get it, but if it’s makin’ you this wet, I don’t care.”

You moan particularly loud at the sound of his voice muffled through the mask and cant your hips against his hand, the combination of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers fucking up into you has you dangling dangerously close to the edge.

“I-I’m close, Joel.”

His brows furrow behind his mask, and he quirks his fingers inside you even more, and you jolt against his hand. 

“C’mon then, baby. Come for me. Show me how much this pretty pussy loves this mask.”

Fucking shit. When you first met Joel, he hardly spoke a single word, and even when you got him to open up more, he was thoughtful with what he said, chose his words carefully. Unless he was angry, then he could be a bit of an ass.

In bed though? Shit, if you can get him to shut up it’s a damn miracle.

“F-fuck, Joel,” you whine, legs stiffening as your orgasm swells inside you, a match striking, lighting up your viscera as pleasure fast-releases inside your veins. 

“There you go baby, that’s it,” Joel purrs. “So pretty when you come.”

You inhale shakily as the last few shocks fizzle through you, your clit throbbing as you come down from your high.

“Fuck…” you huff, trying to catch your breath.

He strokes your thigh lovingly, and if you could see him behind the mask you’d assume he’s probably wearing that soft smile that he gets sometimes that melts you into a puddle of mushy gushy feelings.

Joel leans back on his knees. “Now it’s time to deliver on that promise,” he says, and your skin tingles at the sound of his zipper. 

“Wait,” you tell him, and he stops, looking at you in concern.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No I just…I wanna show you how much this means to me.”

“Me wearin’ this mask? It’s not a big deal-“

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him down until his back hits the mattress, effectively shutting him up.

You swing your leg over him, situating yourself right on his lap and peel off your tank, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his hands come down to settle warmly on your thighs. 

The muscles in his arms shift as he squeezes your flesh. The drag of the crotch of his jeans against yours has you biting your lip, a zing of pleasure shooting through you.

Joel’s eyes have darkened behind his mask, his pupils swallowing his irises whole besides the thin circle of hazel remaining at the edges as he watches you.

“I’ve never hated jeans more than I do right now,” he says lowly, his gaze dropping to the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

His strong hands slide up from your thighs to your hips to your waist, his dry, calloused skin causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Finally, his palms cup your breasts, unrestrained by a bra because they’re too hard to come by in this day and age. 

He squeezes gently, and your nipples tighten beneath his palms. And then he rolls one between his thumb and forefinger, and your back arches, pressing you further into him. Your hips grind down automatically, and Joel releases a hazy moan. 

“Maybe,” you gasp when you roll your hips again, reveling in the delicious friction against your clit. “You should take them off.”

“Yours first.”

You don’t press him on it. You want your jeans off. So you lift yourself off of him and the bed to tug at your zipper, and Joel watches raptly as you pull your skinny jeans down your thighs, kicking them off your ankles.

And then you’re only in your underwear, and you throw your legs astride him again, the cloth of your underwear catching deliciously on the tent in his jeans. Joel’s hands find your body immediately, like a sweet tooth to a chocolate bar. His fingers dig into your flesh, and he grips your thighs, pulling them apart to set you on him fully. A shudder wracks your spine at the feeling of him pressed against your throbbing core.

“Goddamn,” he growls, eyes roving over you hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You grind down on the hard outline of his cock, and Joel can’t help his reflexive thrust into you, and you sigh. 

“I need you in me, Joel,” you whisper, leaning forward to plant your hands on his broad chest, your fingers messing with the hair dusting his sternum. “Need your cock filling me up.”

“Christ,” he swears, eyes falling shut as he bucks again. “Need’a be in you, sweetheart.”

His hands find your hips and then your ass, squeezing the muscle cultivated there from twenty years of surviving in an apocalyptic world. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties, warm and confident. He lightly rakes his fingernails over your skin, running his calloused fingertips reverently over the stretch marks on your hips. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers through the mask. “Wish I could kiss you.” 

You shiver and your arms loop around his neck. His back is scarred beneath your hands, and you rub gently into the muscle of his traps, causing Joel to release a groan. 

His hand gravitates from your hips to the apex of your thighs, and your breath catches in your throat at the warmth radiating from his fingers when he positions them just below where you want him most.

He circles your clit again, smooth pleasure seeping through your nerve endings and your head falls back in a relaxed moan. You grind against the hard outline of his cock and the pads of his fingers against your clit, each slow drag of your hips causing pleasure to fizzle through you, like a flavored tab in a glass of water.

Your hands travel down his chest and stomach, outlining the thick, jagged scar there. Over his dark happy trail that starts just above his belly button and leads down to what your body is desperately craving. A little treasure map. 

You deftly undo the button and zipper and Joel makes a wrecked noise in the back of his throat when your hand brushes the hard outline of him through his briefs. 

“Wanna show you how much I like you in the mask,” you purr as you palm him. “How hot it gets me.” 

“Fuck,” his head falls back when you tug him out of his briefs, stroking his thick length to full mast. “Please, baby.”

You inch yourself down his legs so that you’re face to face with his weeping cock. Joel’s eyes widen and his hand comes up to gently stroke your hair appreciatively, tucking a lock of it behind your ear. He looks at you with adoration, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you, y’know that?” He says, softly. 

You can’t help but get a bit misty-eyed, always a fan of Joel when he gets soft like this. “I love you, too.” 

He smiles, and glances down at his dick, maneuvering it so that the head skates across your lips, leaving a trail of precum. His heated eyes find yours again. “Go on and show me then.”

“Yes sir.”

You keep eye contact as you lean forward to give his cock little kitten licks, and his head drops against the pillow with a groan, eyes lidded. “Shit, you can’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

You just smirk, and lick a long stripe up a prominent vein and kiss the tip of his cock sweetly before slowly taking him into your mouth. You take in as much as you can (which isn’t much, he’s pretty fucking big), and your hands find whatever you can’t fit.

You start sucking him in earnest, pressing the flat of your tongue against the ridge of his cock, delighting in the way the hand that had softly petted your hair before is now gripping it tight when you tongue that sensitive spot that always gets him reeling.

“That’s it, honey,” he groans, his hips twitching with tiny little thrusts as he tries to hold himself back. “Just like that.”

You moan against his cock, which has him bucking up reflexively, shoving his dick further into your warm mouth. Your throat spasms around the head of his cock when it hits the back of it, gagging lightly and tears forming at the edges of your eyes.

“Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he says, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb.

You shake your head slightly in reassurance, moaning around his cock again, and he releases a heavy breath, eyes fluttering shut once more as you continue to suck and bob and lick, effectively ruining him.

“Okay, okay, baby,” he says after a little while, lightly tugging on your hair to try and get you to stop. “I’m gonna come if you keep doin’ that.” 

You release his cock with an audible pop and send him a pout, “But that’s the whole point.” 

He chuckles a bit, sliding the mask off for a second so he can pull you up to kiss you softly, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moan gratefully into his mouth when he tilts his head to deepen it, opening up greedily. As attractive as you find the mask, you certainly do miss being able to kiss him. You sigh happily when he pulls back to mouth at your jaw and throat, sucking and nipping his way down. 

“I wanna be in you when I come,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough and gruff and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. “How’s that sound?”

You moan softly when he bites down on your throat, his beard and mustache tickling your skin. “Sounds…sounds good.”

He gives you another kiss before tugging his mask back down over his head, and your skin ignites, pussy fluttering.

Joel laughs. “I can literally see the cogs in your brain turnin’ when I put this on. You really do like it, huh?”

You shrug with a guilty smile. “The heart wants what it wants.”

And what it wants is him. Real bad.

So you drift a hand down to pull your panties to the side and shift your hips to position yourself over him, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. You sink slowly down, his length filling you.

The two of you moan in tandem.

“There we go,” he sighs.

“Mm, so big, Joel…” you whimper, and his dick jumps inside you.

You both just hang there for a moment, suspended in time as you get used to the feeling of each other. You’ve done this so many times, know each others bodies inside and out, yet it’s still a brand new experience every time.

You always have to adjust to his thickness. 

You break the spell with an experimental roll of your hips, and Joel’s hands clamp down on your hips with a vice grip.

“Christ—“ he swears. “You’re so good, so good for me.”

He’s filling you so fully, so deeply right now, you’re practically speared on him, and each roll of your hips has your clit brushing against his pelvic bone, amplifying that white hot pressure building inside you. 

When you and Joel first started getting intimate together, he was quiet in the bedroom. Probably a bit nervous around you—he was the one that fell first, after all.

But now after years together, he lets it all out.

Grunts and moans leak out of his gritted teeth as you fuck yourself on top of him. He’s dousing you in praises, telling you what a good girl you are. How perfect you are. How lucky he is to call you his wife. 

It’s all so very adorable and very sexy and you just love him so fucking much. 

Joel plants his feet down behind you, just to get some leverage so he can thrust his hips up into you at a steady pace. Your hands find purchase on his chest, keeping you upright while he fucks you.

His large palm slides around the front of your stomach, pressing down, and you can feel the way his cock moves inside you as he does it.

“You see that, baby?” 

You haven’t really looked down, so focused on the way he looks in the mask, how his breaths are coming out heavier and rougher through it. The way he sounds wrecked. But now that he’s asking, you do. 

You look down, only to see a slight bulge in your stomach with each thrust of his hips. 

A pleasant shudder runs through you. “Oh fuck.”

“Love seein’ the way I fuck you,” he rasps.

You watch his cock disappear and reappear with a slack jaw, eyes glazed as his hands stray to your thighs, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

You’re losing strength in your arms, your nails scraping through his chest hair as you try and remain upright, but the effort of matching his thrusts with your own along with the steady ecstasy filling your marrow is enough to have you collapsing against his chest, boneless.

And now Joel can really take the reins. His big hands grip your ass, holding you still as he pounds into you, your cheek smushing against his pecs with each heavy thrust, your clit rubbing against his sweat-slicked skin.

“F-fuck, Joel. Oh my god—“

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts. “Atta girl.” 

Within moments you’re already there, eyes squeezing shut, brows pulled together in ecstasy as your climax crashes over you in rolling waves. It ebbs and flows within you as you listen to the heated pants modulating through Joel’s mask, watching his eyes gloss over as he chases his own release. 

It’s so fucking good. So right. Your husband never fails to give you exactly what you want.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he follows soon behind you, the fluttering walls of your cunt pulling him over faster.

“I’m comin’,” he grits. And then he’s grinding his cock into your pussy, holding you still against him as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum, releasing a long, drawn out, wrecked moan of your name.

You lay pliant on his chest, practically drooling on him as you both come down and his cock softens inside you, slick and cum running down the inside of your thighs. His heart pounds under your ear, a steady reminder that he’s alive and here and that you, thank fuck, didn’t die earlier today.

“Thanks,” you mumble against his perspirant skin.

He tugs the mask off, his hair sticking to his sweaty temple. “‘Course, darlin’. Though as hot as that was, I dunno about having sex wearin’ that again. I think I was startin’ to get light headed from the lack of air.”

You giggle, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I liked it. But now anytime we have to wear them again I’m just gonna be thinkin’ about this. Gonna get a damn hard-on when I’m on patrol.”

You smirk, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He opens up beneath you immediately, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Maybe that was my goal all along,” you mumble, smiling into the kiss.

He pulls back with a quirked brow and crooked grin. “You are into some sick kinds of torture.”

“I mean, if it gets you coming home to me quicker…”

“Oh I’ll be comin’, alright.”

Your face scrunches. “God, you’re sick. Why did I even marry you?”

His eyes melt, one hand squeezing your ass cheek, the other stroking your jaw. “Because you love me.”

That causes tears to well in your eyes again, because despite everything, despite all the fucked up things about this world, you do love him. You’re capable of loving him. And you’re grateful that, even with the terrible way life has treated him, he’s capable of loving you too.

“Yeah, I do,” you say.

He kisses you again, sweet and passionate and filled with all the things he never knows how to say. “I love you, too.”

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Safe and Sound

“Sweetheart, if you keep running like that, you’re gonna fall,” you advised your overly confident 4 year old as she raced through the squad room. Sure enough, just as she was about to turn the corner, her feet got tripped up and she took a small tumble. Nothing you were worried about but Tony had just happen to see and your daughter knew that if she started crying, he would come running. So that’s what she did.

“Oh no, did that evil carpet trip you?” Tony picked her up off the floor and sat her on his hip, wiping her crocodile tears away. You made your way over, smiling and setting a box of take out on your husband’s desk.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger Tony. All she wants are those Italian crackers you keep in your desk.”

“Crackahs,” your daughter mimicked, proving your point.

“Ah yes. The cracker tax will be paid, fear not young padawan,” Tony told her while setting her down in his desk chair and opening up his drawer to pull out the little stash. You shook your head and smiled as your toddler happily munched on her favorite snack, dropping crumbs all over Tony’s desk.

“Where’s Jethro?” you asked, also noticing the other missing agents.

“He’s with Bishop questioning some lady who might know where our suspect is hiding. Been gone a while, shouldn’t be too long of a wait.”

Jethro had told you their day was a bit slow since they hadn’t had any new leads so you decided to surprise him for a late lunch. You knew he wouldn’t want to leave the office so you brought food from his favorite Chinese restaurant. Figured you 3 could eat in the conference room or something.

“Oh, would you look at that. Bishops calling me now.” He picked up the phone while sitting at the edge of his desk. “Your ears must be burning Bishop-

He stopped his joking as his face got serious, catching your attention.

“What happened?….Did he get away?…..What hospital?”

You hoped to God they weren’t talking about Jethro as your worst nightmare started playing in your head.

“Alright. I’ll grab Ducky and Palmer and meet you there.”

He hung up the phone and you waited for his next words.

“The suspect was hiding out at the house. He shot Gibbs in the shoulder but he’s fine. They brought him to Sibley Memorial.”

Without another word, you were out of your seat and scooping your daughter up before heading for the elevator.

————

“Where we going mommy?” your little girl asked from the backseat as you drove.

“We’re gonna go see Daddy sweetheart. But we gotta be really gentle when we see him because he just got a big ouchies on his shoulder, ok?”

“Ok. How come Daddy got an ouchies?”

“Sometimes he gets ouchies when he’s working. Remember the ouchie he had on his knee?”

“From the bad guys!” she resolved proudly.

“That’s right. But don’t worry. Daddy got the bad guy.”

“Yay!”

She didn’t ask anymore questions after that thankfully. Sometimes it was difficult explaining Jethro’s job but she actually understood a lot of it, making it easier. She got all the smarts from Jethro you’re sure of it.

Once you arrived, you headed straight for the nurses station.

“Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He’s my husband, I believe he was brought in a little bit ago.”

The nurse typed a bit on the computer before nodding. “Looks like he just came out of surgery. Room 323. Third floor.”

You showed her your ID and received your visitors sticker, your daughter taking it immediately to stick it on herself. Then the two of you made your way through the hospital till you found his room. You were surprised when you saw him out of bed, buttoning up his dress shirt.

“Leaving against medical advice again Jethro?”

He looked up surprised and gave that half grin when he saw you two.

“Daddy!”

Your daughter dropped your hand and raced over to him as he crouched down to her level.

“Remember be gentle honey,” you reminded before she reached out for a hug.

Jethro picked her up easily with his good arm and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“How’s my princess? You learn anything new at school?”

“We did numbers. And colors!”

“Wow. You are so smart, you know that? You’ll be taking Uncle McGee’s job before you know it.”

You just watched the two of them have their conversation with a smile. She loved talking with her dad. Whether it was about her favorite show or asking him what every one of his woodworking tools did. She was definitely more of a daddy’s girl than mommy’s. But you loved it. You loved the way Jethro’s face lit up everytime he saw her. He could be having the worst day at work and she would be the one to make him crack a smile.

“And mommy got you food,” she continued.

“She did? Well I’m hungry as a bear. And if I don’t eat something soon, I just might eat you!”

She squealed in laughter as he gave her kisses and walked over to you.

“You gave me quite a fright today Mr. Gibbs,” you chastened as he set your daughter down.

“I’m sorry about that Mrs. Gibbs. I’ll try harder not to.”

You two kissed deeply, happy that his injury wasn’t too severe and he was safe.

“Did I hear my daughter correctly when she said you bought me food?” he mumbled against your lips.

“Mm-hm. It’s at the office. Room temperature, just how you like it.”

He chuckled and gave you another kiss before taking your daughter’s hand in his and leading the way out of the hospital.

[larryfanfiction]

Hockey Fics

🏒 The Smell of the Ice by ourownstrings @ourownstrings (3k, T)

Louis had loved the smell of the ice since she was little. Since the bottom of her driveway froze into a pond and she learned to skate by leaning on an old lawn chair – the enamel paint mixing with the ice shavings. She loved it up to the moment when the smell of ice was replaced by antiseptic and a doctor telling her to forget that hockey career. Until she’s offered an unlikely chance – cross training a figure skater who is trying to get back into the sport. If only Harry wasn’t such an ice queen. Inspired by The Cutting Edge. Written for the Girl Direction Winter Fic Fest 2020.

🏒 sensitive to pressure by momentofclarity @gaycousinlarry (4k, E)

Harry’s breath stutters on its way up his throat, his cheeks heating more with each step as Louis gets closer and Harry can’t move. Feet stuck to the carpet, heavy and unwilling, unable to shuffle away or take control, stuck in place and waiting.

🏒 On Thin Ice by Neondiamond @neondiamond (16k, E)

As the goaltender for one of the best hockey teams in the world, Harry never expected participating in his second winter Olympics would be so eventful. His hidden long-term relationship with the captain of their biggest rival team may have something to do with it.

🏒 i've got something to confess, i keep you in my pocket to use by babylwt (16k, E)

"You made Harry Styles practically swoon over you, admit you’re beautiful to basically the world, he asked for your number and you said no. Like, you have to be joking.” Bella tsks as she sits up straight, grabbing Louis’ computer off his lap and putting it off to the side. Louis moves to reach for it, sighing in defeat as he leans back against his pillows. “You know how it goes with those sports guys. They’re just after having a good time before they have to go to the next city and play another game and find another person to swoon.” Louis explains. “It just wouldn’t have worked and I’m too busy right now.” Louis shrugs. “Too busy to fuck Harry Styles?” Bella asks with a raised brow. “Yes, even too busy to fuck Harry Styles.” Or Prompt 251: Harry is a hockey player and he's in the middle of a press conference when Louis, a journalist, asks him a question. Harry sees him ans says something like "oh my god, he's so beautiful" to his teammate and only realized his mic was on when the pretty boy blushes and the room breaks in a laugh

🏒 On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche @zanniscaramouche (47k, E)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane. Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes. A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

More Masterposts

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 3.1 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

18+ Only! Heavy adult situations ahead.

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  Part 3.1: Another time jump, nearly two full years.  One word summary - time.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations.  Oh so much sex in this one.  Oral, anal play, masturbation (m), talk of birth control.  

Word Count: approx. 7.5K 

Once again, a huge thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddness - they really are the best.  *mwah*

CD&FE, Part 3.1, Her POV

     “Be safe,”  he said, his mouth hovering just over mine but not crossing the microspace that would land those lips to me in the way I so very wanted him to.  

     “Yeah,”  I answered, unable to hide the hitch in my chest.  “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”

      I heard them calling his name from the doors.  Time was up.  He dropped his chin and began to retreat.  A knot the size of the state seemed to appear in my chest as he took a look over his shoulder to yell back he’d be right there.  I watched as his chest expanded.  He was struggling the same as I was.  I worried bites into my bottom lip as he brought his hand to my face, the pad of his thumb crossing my lip to get me to stop. 

      “I will see this beautiful face again,”  he said, all of his heat radiating out to blast across my frame and envelop me in all of him.

      I watched him smile down a hard swallow before he turned away and disappeared into the world beyond…

~20 Months Later~

      I had been sitting in meetings all day and my legs ached with every minute.  I was no longer a team leader, having been promoted to management and editing designer.  I oversaw several teams.  I was good at my job.  I had built a reputation that was solid and had a talent that was sought out by established clients as well as new faces to our company.  Yes - our.  I had shares in this place now, and having actual stakes in the game was driving me towards goals I never thought I would ever entertain as possible.

     I would be lying if I said I didn’t date.  I would be a bold faced liar if I said I didn’t date often.  I was by no means sleeping with all of them, but it was like I had an appetite that Jake had left me with that could not be quelled.  At first, he sent random assed texts of greetings.  Almost like he didn’t know what else to say.  But what was worse was the silence that followed.  Perhaps I was trying to fill that void.  I met a lot of nice people.  I had sex with a wide variety of those people.  None of them, however, were him.  At the end of it all, my skin did not call out to any of them.  My words may have thanked them kindly, but my thoughts were always away.

      I was listening to pending fiscal needs as my eyes drifted closed.  I could still hear his sounds.  I could still feel the way he moved within me, sans condom.  I could still fucking smell him at times.  What a way to live.  To have Jake Kiszka haunting your ass at all times of the day and night.

      It was a rainy day in April.  The wind would whip against the tall windows with a crash, sending everyone in the little conference room a jolt of surprise.  I felt a notification vibrate in my phone and I thanked whatever god there was to excuse myself to handle whatever the situation could be on the other end.  Secretly, I was hoping it would be bad enough to keep me out of the rest of the meetings of the day.  I trailed into my office before I unlocked my phone, sliding behind my desk and bringing my screen to life before actually looking at the text.

      Jake.

      .

     I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh.

     .

     Jake: If I were to fly into the city in a few days, would you be there?

     .

     Really?  My eyes roll to the back of my head.  This man’s timing was…  Goddamnit.

     .

     I returned to my meetings like a big girl and prayed that the rest of the day would go quickly.  Finally - we wrapped closer to six pm than I would’ve liked, but I was my kind, professional self, putting away all my shit and double checking my schedule for the next day before grabbing my light trench and bag and waved as I strolled out the door.  I met Patty and his professor friends for drinks and a light dinner.  It felt good to just fade into the background, letting Patty carry the conversation and just soak up his presence.  After my last run in with Jake, he had listened to me lament.  He had listened to me attempt to explain what was between me and that man.  He just teased me, but let me lean on him despite not truly understanding what the hell was wrong with his dearest friend.

      At home, I ran a bath.  Something I had not done since Jake had run one for us.  The little book of poems was still on the bath tray.

      “Claim me your safe harbor, and I will ever be faithful.”

      I sucked in a trembling breath as I dropped my robe and stepped into the heavily scented water.  I tugged the tray towards me to set my phone down.  I had wondered for weeks if that line had been a misstep on his part.  If he had not meant to say it, but in the moment, could not help it to pass through his mouth.  The corners of my lips turned down.  No.  Not a misstep.  We had shared so much - kept our words honest.  My heart constricted just as it had when he said those words.  I wanted to repeat them right back.  I wanted to whisper and shout them and sing them if I had to, for there was nothing more true than that statement.

       “Fuck,”  I sigh as I unlocked my phone to look at the message once more.

       It was almost eerie - the timing of the text.  The timing of his availability was…

      I open the text to respond, weighing my words carefully.

     .

      Y/n:  I’m leaving for vacation.

     .

      I sent it.  I set the phone back down and rested back.  There was no way he would get back –

     .

     Jake:  With a partner?

     .

      Y/n:  No. Alone.

     .

      I bit into my upper lip.  I wasn’t meaning to be evasive, but seriously.  I got nearly a month off a year, plus more time for holidays.  I treasured this time.  And yes - most of these vacations, I was fucking alone.

     .

     Jake:  Where are you going?     .

     He was about to discover something new about me and I wasn’t sure if he would like it.  Fuck.  I blew out my cheeks as I typed into the phone.

     .

     Y/n:  North.  Cottage near Duluth.  

     .

     The three little dots danced as he typed a reply.  Those dots stopped.  They started again.  Then stopped - again.

     .

     Jake: No Patrick?

     .

     Y/n: Alone means alone.  

     .

     Jake: Sounds

     .

      I grimaced at the text.  It was obviously not finished.  I waited.  The bathwater was getting cold.  I waited another five minutes before I set the phone back safely on the tray and got out with a shiver.  Just as I was wrapping my fuzzy robe around me, my phone was blaring out that ring and I let it go for nearly a full cycle before I answered.

      “Would it be rude if I said I would like to invite myself on your little getaway?”  he said after I uttered my hello.

      “Yes,”  I responded, grabbing a towel for my hair and drifting out of the bathroom.

      I grin at his laugh.  I made my way to the living room and took my spot on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.

      “Where is this cottage, if I may be so bold,”  he pressed, sounding like he was walking.

      “North of the city with a pretty view of Island Lake and just a few miles from the big water.”

      He hummed.  “Why are you going alone?”

      “I thought you wanted to join me?”

      “Tease.”

       It was my turn to laugh, and I did, feeling his smile cross through the phone.  “I discovered a few years ago that I like taking my vacations alone.  I don’t have to answer to anyone unless I want to.”

       There is silence on the other end, but I can hear him still moving at a brisk pace.  The idea of having more than a few hours with him was filtering through my brain and I could not find the words that would convey that interest.  

      “Okay, out with it.  What are you doing?”  I asked after I pulled the phone away to glare at the huffing on the other end.

       “I’m trying to make a flight.”

       “Home?”

       “You.”

        My lips parted as I inhaled sharply.  

       “I’m leaving London now.  I have a layover in Boston then into Minneapolis.”

       My gut sank.  On one hand, he was taking a chance that I would even be in town when he arrived, but on the other, he just kind of assumed I would be able to even see him - unattached.  Ouch.

       “How long do you have?”  I found myself asking, leaning forward.

       I hear him suck his breath through his teeth.  “Weeks.  We’re on break for the next month.”

      I squeezed my eyes shut.  Time.  The one thing we’ve never had.  My core whimpered at the thought of actual time.  “How does a cottage on a lake sound?  I’ve got it for ten days.”

       I heard a soft curse pass across the phone, but there was a smile attached to it.  Then there was another curse, this time it was a bit rougher.  “My flight gets in at after eleven Friday night.  When do you leave?”

       “Saturday morning,”  I said quietly, knowing right well it would be closer to midday before I’d get my packing done and head out the door.

       “I’ll be there.”

     I had taken Friday off to make sure I would pack, easing into my nearly fifteen days off.  I had Joni Mitchell playing in the background as I checked in with the family.  Patrick stopped by with lunch.  We were sitting at the kitchen table when my phone chimed with Jake’s notification.  He looked at my phone on the other side of the room and back to me as I just focused on my coffee between my fingers.

      “Work?”  he asked.

      “Why would you say that?”  I asked back, rocking from side to side on my stool.

      “Because you’re always working,”  Pat grumbled, before looking up at me.  He turned his body towards me, his eyes holding a wicked gleam and a smile that matched.  “Who the fuck are you taking with you?  I thought you were going alone again.”

      “I was going alone,”  I replied as I moved to get the phone.  “Now, I’ll have some company.”   

      “Fun company?”

      I raised my eyebrow as I looked down at the phone.  I couldn’t help the grin that hit, nor the flush that painted itself on my cheeks.

      “Only one man that does that to you,”  Patrick said with a pair of hand slaps to the counter.  

      “Yep,”  I sighed, rereading the words that he would be at my doorstep before midnight.  

      My eyes fixed onto the time - shit.  That meant less than twelve hours.  I had butterflies all over the place and my dear friend could feel each one of them from across the room.  His eyes fucking sparkled at me.  SPARKLED.  Bastard.  

      “You’ll be careful, right?”  he said as he was getting his stuff together.  “I mean - still let me know when you’re heading out.  It’d be a shame if he killed you out on the water or in the woods or something.”

       I rolled my eyes.  That was our deal - every vacation alone, anytime I headed out to do anything, I sent him a text on my way out and he’d expect one when I was safe.  It got him though knowing I was alone in the great wide world.  Got me through, too, knowing I had some kind of safety net.

      “I think you just like taking your breaks at this time knowing that I can’t leave during this point in the term,”  he grumbled.

      “Well, if you worked in the real world like a normal grown up…”  

      I watched as he left with a hug and a wave, with a last second whorish comment to get under my skin in his playful way.  I stood before my wall of albums and picked a Beatles album before heading back to the bedroom to dig out my luggage.  There were a few delays with calls from work.  I redirected or took care of issues accordingly before getting back to my task at hand.  I did call the cottage owners to inform them that there would be a second guest, instead of just me.  I knew there would be a tiny extra cost, but honestly…  Who the fuck cared if Jake was the second guest.

       I debated just how much I wanted to take.  It was more like what I wanted to take that was tripping me up.  Alone - it would have been easy.  But now…  Did I want to take anything pretty, lacy, frilly, slutty…  I opted for simple instead.  Sort of.  Of course I had to take something little and sheer and a touch pretty.  

      I made the round of phone calls to family before tucking into putting the finishing touches on the packing and putting everything by the door to just be ready to go.  I combed through the kitchen, eating up the last few leftovers to be rid of them before tucking in with a book and a movie.  Jake had texted that he would get an uber over to the house.  My eyes kept darting over to check the time, feeling like it was reversing instead of getting closer to the midnight mark.  I was just beginning to drift, warmed through by my favorite throw blanket and lulled by the outro music of the movie when there was a knock on the door.  I tried to focus on the time that was on the phone, but it felt like my eyes were crossing with exhaustion.  How the hell had I missed a few hours when the minutes were just dragging by a few moments before? 

       The soft knock came again as I rammed my shin into the coffee table.  I blurted out a sharp curse as I tried to maintain my feet.  I grimaced, knowing that the strike would cause a mark.  I fumbled to the door, sure I looked frightening and not the sexy kitten that he was perhaps expecting.  Yeah.  Not this night, precious.  

      I opened the door to find a very tired, handsome man with a sleepy smile and a mustache.  I reached for him and he pulled me close.  What was it about him that caused me to melt and swoon and feel like all the armor that I needed to keep in place to keep me safe disappeared without hesitation or care.  His mouth brushed against mine before landing in heat and passion.  Every molecule of me was lit on fire as he wove his fingers into the back of my t-shirt to be as close to me as possible.  It was as if no time had passed from our last encounter.  

      I tugged him over the threshold to close the door and he pressed me into the wall with a groan after he set his guitar case to the side.  He gave me just enough room to look into his face, really look and take in the weariness of his eyes but the light that he harbored there.  Just for me.  I couldn’t help but to touch his face, to keep my hands on him like he would disappear if I let him go.  He seemed to be feeling it as well as his hands ghosted over my arms, my waist, my cheeks, as he planted tiny, welcoming kisses to my lips.

      He finally said a raspy ‘hello’ as he started to slide his backpack from his shoulders.  I frown at the fact that all he is carrying is said backpack and guitar case.

      “Do you not have anything else to take along?”  I asked as he tucked the pack in next to my bags.

      “Nope.  I may have to stop and get  a few things.  Most of my stuff is home already,”  he said as I took him by the hand into the living room to turn off the tv.  

      “Hungry?”  I asked as he pulled back close to him.

      “No,”  he whispered against my cheek.  “Shower and a bed sounds perfect right now.”

      I hummed against his skin as leaned back into me.  “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll meet you in bed.”

      He grinned as he pointed down the hall as if he right well did not know where he was going.  Jake might’ve only been in my home once, but those hours were spent well in my room.  I watched as he seemed to drag himself to get his pack and head where he wanted to go.  I cleaned up my nest and grabbed a couple glasses of water.  By the time I locked up and had lights out, he was standing under the spray in my bathroom.  I ducked in to brush my teeth and wash my face.  All the while, I was breathing in the smell of his soap, his shampoo.  I stripped down to just the t-shirt and undies and turned down the bed.  

      He was toweling his hair when he appeared in nothing but his boxer briefs.  I was snuggled down and drowsy as I took him in.  Soft in all the right places.  Toned in all the favorite spots.  Lord, that man’s thighs flexed as he turned back to finish out his sopping wet hair.  I might have drooled a bit at the sight before me.  He reached for his water with a ‘thanks’ when he returned.  He slid in between the sheets and reached for my frame to draw close.

      “Would you be insulted if I said I just want to make out and fall asleep with your tongue in my mouth?”  he asked with a smile.

      “Sounds dangerous,”  I quipped as I pretended to think about it.  

      I didn’t have to think too hard though, he rolled me back and invaded my space in the most tender way.  God, I loved how this man kissed me.  I loved his taste and how he touched me when he kissed me.  Yeah.  Making out and sleep sounded like a good plan.

     Waking to Jake is an otherworldly experience.  Sure, I had woken to plenty of lovers in my bed across the years.  But I had only woken to Jake once.   To look at him, lips parted to emit soft snores and his features completely relaxed is a whole different kind of pretty.  I couldn’t help but to lean in and kiss his forehead before I got up to head to the bathroom.  Relieved and teeth brushed, I was brushing my hair when I saw Jake moving in the room behind me.  There was no way he could hide the huge bone in his underwear as he walked behind me.  I watched as he hooked his thumbs into the thin fabric and walked out of them without stopping.

     “Good morning,”  I managed as he grabbed hold of my hips and ground into my bottom.  “I see someone got some good rest.”  

     “I’ve missed seeing this ass,”  he whispered into my hair.  “Look at how beautiful you are, Y/n.  Look at how beautiful you make me feel when you’re like this.”

      I watched as he drew his one hand around to the front of my hip, dragging my shirt up over my breasts in one long pass.  Shirt was discarded immediately as he wrapped one arm around my middle to nuzzle down into my neck.

      “May I fuck you this fine morning?”  he asked, sucking and lapping at whatever skin he could reach.

      “If you don’t, I’m going to leave you here during my vacation,”  I growled as he started to crouch down, tugging my panties down with him.

      My hands came to rest on the counter as he bit into my ass cheeks, soothing the marks with gentle kisses, only to bite once more.  He parted my legs with one hand and swiped my folds with the other.

      “Fuck, you’re already that wet for me?”  he asked before sliding his tongue across me for a taste.

       “Jake,”  I gasped as he lapped a second and third time.  “Just in.  Get that fucker into me now.”

       I was quick to shove everything on the counter to the side as he pulled my hips back.  His hand threaded through my hair and pressed me down to open all the way for him.  There was no question I was about to be pounded.  I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and felt the corner of my mouth curl.  He was nothing if not consistent.  I turned my eyes to the mirror to watch that man become unhinged as he slid his length into my dripping pussy.  The jaw drop, the lips pulled tight across his teeth, the fucking eyes turning into smoldering pools of lust made my core suck his cock deep within me and hold on for pure joy.  

       My body knew - he was not going to last long this first time.  I needed to soak up every second that he could give me.  His fingers were digging into my flesh in a near painful grasp as he slammed his dick in as deep as I would allow.  He was already twitching and pulsing, his breath hitched with each strike.

       “Pet that clit, baby,”  he demanded, our gaze meeting as he ground into me.  

       I struggled to get space enough to reach down, but god, the moment I touched, he swiveled in such a way that made a sound escape my throat that sent instant color to my cheeks.  He did it again and again, that same move as I jacked my hard clit off.  It didn’t take much before I was afraid my legs were going to give way and I was coming undone around him.  He let out a barrage of grunts as his thrusts became erratic.

       “Give it to me,”  he said, his voice full of strain.  “Fucking mark me.”

       I looked into those eyes and I was forcibly shoved into a realm that was not my own.  My mouth dropped open as my breath carried out every ounce of my pleasure.  I could feel my cum dripping down my thighs as he let out a near animalistic hiss.  He came hard into me, jolting my body once more into a euphoric state that held me in a grip tighter than anything I had felt before.

       He landed sloppy kisses against my spine as we slowly came down from our highs.  I felt the moment he fell from my cunt and whimpered over the loss.  He breathed out a warm laugh as I struggled to regulate my breathing under him.  

       “Damn, I almost forgot how good we are at that,”  he remarked as he reached for the drawer that held the washcloths.  

       I found it endearing that he remembered where everything was in the bathroom.  We were slow to clean up, holding on to each other with gentle touches and warm kisses.  We skated out of the house with to-go cups of coffee and bags in the car.  I snapped a picture of us at the car to send to Patrick to let him know we were on our way.  His comment, of course, was all about big dicks and wet cunts.  What a slut.

      We stopped at one of those big box outdoor sports stores so that he could get a few flannels, an actual coat because it was going to be cold on the lake, and hiking boots.  He also asked to stop at the bookstore, since he laid eyes on my few books that I was taking for quiet time.  He walked out with three titles that made my eyes roll.  Pirates, history and snooze seemed to be the topics of the day.  We got on the I-35 and took off like a shot.  Traffic was already thinned by those looking to get away from the cities, so it was an easy drive to Duluth.  We stopped for essentials at the grocery, forming a loose menu for a few days.  To see him in such a domestic setting was different.  It wasn’t that I didn’t know him, but at the same time, I really did not know anything of him being out in the actual world.  It was a strange realization to strike when looking at produce.  

      There was no hesitancy, however, in actually being with this person I could only describe as a near-stranger.  We had fucked.  We had fucked hard and passionately.  We had shared honest words of feelings.  But had we actually been out on a date - a real one where we actually dress to impress the other and pretend to eat a dinner but can’t because of the butterflies in our stomachs?  Had we shared space with nothing happening between us?

      No.

      No, we had not.  

      And yet.  Here we were about to spend ten days with no one else around.

      Ah.

      There were the butterflies;

      As if on cue.

      With the shopping done, I brought up the directions once more to follow out to Island Lake.  Jake was quiet.  I wondered if he was feeling apprehension.  Or maybe excitement.  God, I hoped he was feeling the excitement that I felt beginning to prickle and simmer in my own bones.  Turning off the interstate to the two lane highway was enough to set my skin to jumping with anticipation, but to turn off the highway to an unmarked, barely there road with snow that was still clinging to the ditch-line made me smile.  In fact, many of the evergreens were still holding tiny lines of snow frosting and ice.  It was a fading winter wonderland and it was beautiful.

       The small cottage was on the island portion of Island Lake.  We had to navigate across a one lane bridge and through some seriously dense woods, but there it was - all wood sided with cream white trim and a rich green roof.  The deck had been cleared of snow, as had the lower deck that was closer to the water’s edge.  I couldn’t hide the smile as I parked.  It was like my whole face was buzzing with electricity.

       “This is…”  Jake’s voice was hushed as he shifted in the seat.  He was leaning forward, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, eyes taking everything in.  “This is lovely.  Perfect.”

       “It’s way better than where I was this time last year.  That place - I actually left two days in it was so bad.  Should we go inside to get the lay of the land first, or should we go ahead and get our bags and drag everything in?”  I asked, rubbing my hands together as the heat of the car was already fading.

       “Why don’t we get the lay of the land first.  Everything should be fine out here,”   he said with a smile.

       “I’m hoping that it’s as pretty inside as it is on the outside,”  I replied as I pushed open my door before bracing for the cold wind that was skating through the air to greet us.

      I pulled up the cottage key on my phone that had been sent to me as Jake shivered without his coat, but patiently waited.  I quietly apologized for not having it ready ahead of time, but pushed the door open and waved him in first to get out of the cold.  To say we both froze at the entrance would be accurate.  Inside was better than the outside, wrapped in clean lines of natural wood, the softness of quilts and fuzzy blankets, and it all seemed to be something out of a damn greeting card.  

      The kitchen was not big, but functional.  There was a tiny dining room that flowed into the small living room.  Floor to ceiling windows framed the lake view while the walls were wrapped in light washed wood that held pictures and artifacts of the region.  There was a fireplace and a small tv that rounded out the comfy living space.  The bedroom sent nothing but cozy vibes through me with its king sized bed, a heavy denim quilt over the top that was lined with dusty red flannel and more than enough pillows to sink into.  The small bathroom was fine and functional.  Guess the bathroom sex at home was to be it for the vacation.  Oh well.

      We wrestled our bags and groceries in, putting everything away before falling onto the couch together.  I felt like my eyes were falling closed before I even fully settled down into the lush, cozy cushions.  Jake threaded his fingers through mine.  I looked over at him and sure enough, his eyes were shut with his head resting back on the pillows.  I felt the smile bubble up from my gut as I reached over and booped his nose before I could stop myself.  

      “Oh my god, you didn’t just,”  he grumbled, grabbing hold of me and swinging me around so that we were horizontal on the cushions.  I might’ve squeaked more than a little bit as he tickled my ribs until he wrapped around me to hold me still.  “There.  Trapped.  What’cha gonna do now, little mouse?”

      He had me totally immobilized: arms around my torso and arms, legs around my hips and thighs.  And it felt good.  Too good.  I raised up the best that I could and looked down into his playful expression.  Jake was one of those men who just had it.  He could probably be way less handsome, but still make anyone believe that they were hot shit just due to his charisma, his grit, and most of all his confidence.  He was by no means arrogant, but he knew himself, knew what he offered to anyone at any given time.  With no way to really move anything, I grinned and captured his lips in between my own.  He did not instantly let go until I started to feel myself melt into him, deepening the kiss until we were both struggling to catch our breaths.  He hummed against my cheek as I nuzzled into his neck, finally able to bring my hands up to thread into his hair.

      “Hello,”  he purred before tugging my lip into his mouth once again.  

      “I’m glad you’re here,”  I said simply.

      “I’m glad you invited me,”  he replied, tucking my hair behind my ear.  

      I laughed as I had to worm my way down his body in order to get my feet under me.  I put an over the top kiss to his exposed tummy before I pushed myself away.  I was rewarded with a groan as he tried to swipe for me once more.  

     “So, confession time,”  I said as I fixed up a glass of water.

     “That sounds ominous,”  he returned as he walked towards the kitchen.

     I paused to take a drink, my eyes on him like he was in for it.  “I’m not one of those people who have to have something to do every day of vacation.  In fact, I need a few days of just nothing.”

      His brow furrowed for a long moment, eyes turned down as if he was thinking about what I said.  “No four am wake up calls for a ten mile hike before breakfast?  No driving like an idiot at high rates of speed to not be late for a scheduled guided tour?  No…”

      “No.  Well.  At least not every day.”  I watched as he processed the words.  “Is that okay?  I mean, I don’t even have anything scoped out yet.  I was just hoping to ease into things up here.”

      I watched as his body physically relaxed.  “Sounds perfect.  Everything on tour is measured and scheduled and regulated.  Even downtime is planned and timed on a fucking calendar.”

      I blew out a breath that I was holding.  “So, tomorrow it would be all right if we just stayed in?  Read a little, cook a little?”

      “Fuck a little,”  he sighed with a devilish grin.  “I like it.”

      I dug out my little set of Bluetooth speakers and ran some music on my phone while he started to dig around the kitchen.  To watch him cook was sexy.  His eyes moved over what was available and his hands just settled into what needed to be done.  He told me to sit and start to figure out what we wanted to do on full day two - perhaps something on the water?  Wasn’t there a cute little zoo?  I accepted a rich glass of wine from him as he bent down to kiss my mouth.  

      The scene was very domestic.  There was no denying it.  It was a feeling that I could get used to all too easily with him.  I found a few things that might be interesting, more than a few art museums, of course, the big mansion run by the university, tours of all sorts…  My eyes skirted back to the man that was working to feed me and I caught him with a grin looking back at me.  

      “Is this weird?”  he asked before taking a sip of his wine.

      I shrugged.  “I don’t know about weird.  It feels like…  I don’t know.  But it’s not weird.”

     “Somehow that leaves me more confused,”  he snorted a soft laugh.  

     Huge, predatory bird sized butterflies attacked my chest as I looked across the rim of my glass at him.  Fuck.  The moment was calling for us to be actual real humans towards each other.  We were good at that.  At least in those moments after the high of sex had worn down to a simmer, and honesty was the only path that would bring a smile to either of us.

      “In trying not to sound like a professional asshole here,”  I started, feeling like I was about to jump out of my skin, “I, um…  I think this is where we get to actually know each other, yeah?  I mean, we’ve talked childhood stuff.  School stuff, too.  Family shit and friends.  But all of it was just the starting stuff.”

      “All right.  Then tell me about your job.  Let’s start there.”

      “My job?”

      “Yeah.  Makes up a lot of your time.  I have no clue what you actually do…”

      I couldn’t help the big eye pop but settled in, moving to the end of the counter to be closer to him as I tried to explain what I did.  He asked a few questions here and there - especially when I said that I was a full partner in the company.  He had not realized that I had gotten a promotion.  I explained that I was not just leading teams on projects, but actively seeking and hosting new clients, as well as having final say on the directions of projects.  Those projects were no longer just venue based.  I was working with much larger clients.  Yes.  I was doing well.  I had worked my ass off for it though.

      I slipped in behind him as he was working on the cooktop, sauteeing veggies.  I figured why not clean up as he cooks - less to do after.  I felt him take a quarter step back, just to move nearer as he was talking about the next direction of a pending album.  Although most of the tracks were already written, they were still working on an overall concept before lyrics and then stitching together the whole show to the music.  He was being vague, but that was fine.  I just honestly enjoyed hearing him talk about his process.  He was trying to describe going from these huge sonic movements to something a little bit - simpler, less amplified.  

      “Accustic, then,”  I snarked as I continued doing dishes.  

      He leaned further back into me, our backs lining up to press against each other.  He merely turned his face a fraction and was able to brush his lips against my shoulder.  I dared to look into the depths of those eyes and felt an instant wave of swoon that overtook the air in my lungs.  He pressed his mouth to mine in a fleeting kiss.  It wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t ever enough, was it?  He leaned in and I savored the taste of wine on his tongue with a deep hum in my chest.  Before I could stop myself, I reached up and around him with dripping hands, getting us both wet.  My back arched as he deepened the kiss hungrily.  He turned to pull me flush against him, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth with a husky growl.  

       Both hands landed on his ass as he blindly pushed the hot pan off the heat and turned off the burner before walking me out of the kitchen.  “I’m not so hungry for food,”  he whispered before our kiss crashed back together.  

       He pawed at my sweater, fingers tugged at the hem while I made quick work at his t-shirt.  Skin.  Hot, supple skin beneath my fingers set a wave of lust between my thighs that sent shockwaves through my entire system.  Yeah. This was what…

       Jake pulled at my leggings and I shimmied to give him a bit of assistance.  Fuck this man could kiss me like no other - setting loose a raving lunatic whose sole purpose was to be fucked silly.  Clothes were gone for both of us and he lifted me to the edge of the table.  He paused briefly as if seeing if the table was where he needed me to be.  Our eyes met with a naked fervor.  He fell to his knees before me, hooking his arms under my thighs to pry them as wide as I would allow.

       “I crave…”  he whispered as he planted a kiss on the inside of my knee.  “No one is like you.  I fucking crave you…”

       I watched, mouth hanging open as he dug his tongue into my exposed folds like a man starved.  For a long moment, I wondered if I had heard him correctly, but then… fucking magic and all thoughts turned to pixie dust as he devoured my cunt.  It was not that I had forgotten how he did this to me.  How he seemed to turn me into some kind of fluid with the consistency of jelly that he could manipulate to his whim.  It was more like how I had to deliberately forget how he did this so I could enjoy much lesser mortals trying to replicate his man’s mouth and fingers.  

       Just as I began to quiver under his touch, he turned and sunk his teeth into the flesh of my thigh.  I might’ve blurted out a curse as he laughed to catch my attention once more.  I reached for his face but he retreated just enough to keep out of touch.  The corner of his glossy lips curled up as he swiped a finger down through my folds.

       “Is it still fuck any hole?”  he whispered before placing a soothing kiss to the inflamed skin that he marked only moments before.

      I hummed as I bent over him.  He tilted his face towards mine enough that I could skate my tongue across his mouth.  He let out a pussy scented breath as I landed a kiss to his brow.

       “May I fuck any hole for you?”  I asked before plunging my tongue deep within his mouth like it was a cock - pressing in and out with a pace that made him groan.

       His hands wrapped around my thighs and gave my whole body a bounce as he struggled against my kiss.  “I’d never say no to you.  Now if I can get back to my meal,”  he whispered as I nibbled at his puffy lip.

       With a firm hand, he pushed me all the way back to lay flat on the table.  I expected him to go right in once more, but instead sat back on his heels, eyes squarely on my pussy.  He traced the lines and folds and dips and velvet of my all.  I could feel my legs begin to tremble with anticipation once more as he rested his head against my knee.  He swirled a finger at my core before dipping it down to my back entrance.  I heard a soft hum escape him as he finally began to move, leaving a trail of tiny, wet kisses against my thigh that led right to my clit once more.  He was killing me with his talents and he knew it.  I came hard but he ignored my recoil, opting to lap across all my intimate parts as I cooled.  He brushed his cum glazed fingers across my belly and found purchase as I threaded my own fingers with his to hold tight.  

       In the stillness, I heard it.  I started to sit up, but he held me down.  “Jake,”  I groaned, tipping my chin up to the ceiling.  “Just fuck me already…”

       He was sliding his hand over himself as he jacked himself while on his knees.  “Don’t wanna lose the view.”

       He leaned forward again, tongue out to send me back over the edge.  To know he was getting us both off with those hands…  fuck.  I let his hand go and he immediately returned it to my core, sliding three fingers in to coax a groan that made my whole body flush.  I was desperate to see his face, but could only catch glimpses of the curve of his cheek or his hairline as he began to become unhinged against me.   He curled his fingers as I heard his pace quicking on himself.

      “Give me one more,”  he grunted thickly against me.

      The vibration was enough to begin my withdrawal into a pause.  He sucked my engorged clit in hard, the sound sent waves of lust into my system as if lighting the wick to explode.  He was whimpering as he came and I couldn’t withhold my shot, blowing into his face and mouth and hair as my back bowed against the table.  I gasped out in whorish fashion and he laughingly joined in as he slowed his work to bring me down gently.  He returned to resting his head against the inside of my knee, allowing me to sit up but still holding fast to his hand.

      “Why did you do that?”  I asked, letting my body fold and meet our foreheads together.

      “I didn’t want to stop to get a condom,”  he answered, his breath slowly returning to normal.

      I let out a huff before I kissed his brow.  “Okay, I appreciate that you are conscientious of this, but I’m on the depo shot.  If you feel comfortable enough, you don’t have to use one of those things with me.”

      His eyes were slow to meet mine.  “It’s current?”

      “Current?”  

      He swallowed with a nod.  “Are you up to date on the dosage?”

      “Like clockwork, Jake,”  I answered.  “Afraid of getting one of your groupies-”

      The heat that flared in his eyes made me stop.  “You’re not a fucking groupie, Y/n.”

      I let out a soft breath to recollect myself.  “Okay, afraid of getting one of your ‘friends’ knocked up?”

      “Just not the time for any of that,”  he said dryly as he stood up.

      I watched him walk into the kitchen to retrieve a towel and wash his hands before returning to me.  I grimaced as I came off the table to wash up.  He collected our tossed around clothes before yanking on his ink black briefs with a smirk.  

      “Now, I’m hungry,”  he declared as he buttoned up his pants, leaving his shirt folded over the chair beside him.  “You need more wine, but stay out of the kitchen.”

      “Why can’t I help?”  I asked as he was quick to pour our wine.  

      “Get that pussy by me and it’s so distracting that I may have to do that all over again,”  he warned as he set back to work.

      “Promise?”

      He laughed across the rim of his glass.  “Promise.” 

They make me smile.  I hope you liked the first part of Chapter 3.  Let me know what you think!  Thank you for the likes and reblogs.  It means a lot.  See you next Wednesday! 😘😘

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[lokisgoodgirl]

Needs [Loki Laufeyson x Female Reader] 18+

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki is truly desperate during a meeting. And it just keeps getting worse…thanks to you. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Light omarashi. Light(ish) Smut. Masturbation. Language. A/N: Thanks @lokischambermaid for the encouragement to try out some omo! I hope it lives up to your high standards.

By 7.15am, Loki really wished he’d gone to the bathroom before the meeting.

Rogers was taking his sweet time. Ensuring every name on the long list of attendees was ticked off and ratified with methodical accuracy. Making time for inane chit chat. He was intolerable. Loki grimaced as he straightened in his seat.

“Brother, are you quite well?” Thor whispered from across the long rectangular table, a subtlety which at any other time would be worthy of sarcastic commentary but not this day. Not right now.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Loki muttered under his breath, noting Roger’s stare flickering towards him disapprovingly. A minute passed, slowly.

“Laufeyson.” Steve called inanely, his gaze focused on his accursed clipboard as the god rolled his eyes.

“Here. Clearly.”

Steve ignored him, continuing down the list of names.

Loki squirmed; trying to find a position for his hips that didn’t feel as though his aching bladder was being squeezed by the Hulk’s meaty fist. He rested his elbows on the table, lowering his torso subtly towards his thighs. No. He pressed his back against the chair, breathing deeply to extend his stomach muscles. No.

He sighed; the resulting pressure on his core making him wince. He really needed to go.

Ever since he had walked out of one of Roger’s infamous 7am meetings under the guise of a phone-call and not returned, he had been banned from unattended departures. The God of Mischief would not be treated like a child having his hand held while he relieved himself under guard. He would not give the eternally smug Rogers the satisfaction. He would not.

He closed his eyes, brow creasing in concentration as he tried to focus on the pompous words coming out of the Captain’s mouth, willing himself to be interested.

“…now that we have the formalities out the way, let’s welcome Y/N from Operations who’ll be talking us through the logistics of the Croatian H-mission…”

Loki’s eyes snapped open in alarm. Y/N? Why was she here? He really should make a point of reading those electronic letters once in a while. A sharp stab in his groin reminded him of his unfortunate situation. He groaned, loudly.

“Laufeyson?” Steve announced pointedly, his eyebrow raised in suspicion. “You got a question already?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed towards the Captain as you walked across the room from where you had been quietly concealed and stood at the head of the lengthy table. Gods above, you were beautiful.

He allowed himself to enjoy a stolen moment of voyeurism as he ran his eyes up your body. Low heels complimented your shapely calves, the defined muscles flexing through your pantyhose – or were they…suspenders? He shifted in his seat, the pang of need dampened temporarily by his keen observations.

You were wearing one of those damned pencil skirts that clung to your hips like hot wax on a fingertip. Norns how he wanted to peel it off before taking you roughly against the conference room wall.

A silk blouse clung against the curve of your breasts as you gathered your notes, the innocent movement of your graceful hands making your cleavage shift tantalisingly beneath the luxurious fabric. He could rip that thing to shreds.

“Psssssst…Loki!?”

His head whipped round to face Thor with malice, the crease of his hip causing his overfilled bladder to scream for attention.

What?” he hissed.

Thor innocently offered up a water jug, tipping the lip to pour the liquid painfully into a waiting glass below before stretching his arm across the table.

“…No!” Loki spat.

He just needed to get through your presentation. He would focus on you. On the beautiful distraction of your intelligent words. On thoughts of you enthusiastically partaking in every incredibly filthy sexual act in his repertoire. Preferably in his oafish brother’s bed.

He subtly thrust his hips involuntarily at the thought, the hot twang of desperation piercing his groin as you began to speak.

“The mission destination is Plitviče Lakes National Park – Croatia. We believe that a Hydra base has been operating underneath one of the sixteen terraced lakes there, joined by waterfalls scattered around the area. At the moment, we don’t have an exact location – so this operation is likely to involve underwater ops.”

Loki pressed his lips together in a silent moan of horror as you began clicking through a slideshow of dramatically crashing falls and underwater caves.

“…we believe the most likely site is the Veliki Slap, a 78m-high waterfall…”

“Oh come on!”

Loki’s eyes widened as he realised his desperation had caused his inner thoughts to spurt outward, feeling every pair of eyes in the room turn towards him as he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Laufeyson?” His name on your plump lips made him want to cum in his pants where he sat.

Loki leant one elbow on the table as his jaw angled towards you, hollowing his cheekbones in concentration as he looked up in a manner he hoped was casual. Stylish. Cool. Collected. And absolutely not about to wet himself.

“I just meant…it seems unlikely” he drawled, “…all that electronic equipment behind a…in a…”

“…a waterfall?” you finished, expectantly. He clenched. The ball of tight pain clawed for release underneath his skin as you began an explanation about mission intelligence.

Loki sank back in his seat, feeling Steve’s incredulous gaze burning into him from the side as his eyes began darting around the room looking for anything to fixate on that didn’t edge him closer to soaking his trousers.

He pressed his fingertips to his brow, scribbling haphazardly on a pad of paper as he retreated to the safe haven of fantasy. Familiar thoughts of you lying wantonly on his bed with that heavenly cleavage encased in emerald lingerie, legs spread…begging for your King. Yes, this would do nicely.

Minutes ticked on before Loki realised he had another growing issue. And it was growing fast.

Your silky tones relaying the team about mission specifics had pushed his covert thoughts about ravishing you to the next level, his hardened arousal straining obviously against his trousers.

He crossed his legs without thinking, the sharp crushing in his groin hitting as his face screwed up in a silent curse. This was torture. And it was all the fault of that damnable Rogers.

Loki balled a fist to his mouth as he bit down on his knuckles, feigning interest in the logistics of underwater exploratory espionage.

His cock throbbed between his thighs, the constricted blood pumping tauntingly as it keened his bladder to relent with every beat. Desperately he pressed his forearm down against his thick girth, a small whine escaping as a whistle between his pursed lips as you thanked the team and mercifully left his line of sight.

The effort to control his aching body was too much to focus his mind, his magic useless to conceal himself. One by one, the team left the room when the meeting ended. He had made it this far, he could hold it another few minutes to maintain his modesty.

When the coast was clear, Loki sprinted without grace through the door. His long legs straightened as he propelled through the hallway, making a beeline for the bathrooms at the end of the corridor.

Skidding across the tiled floor, Loki almost crashed into the wall of the cubicle as he slammed the door behind him and fumbled messily with the fastenings of his trousers.

He grimaced with frustration realising his conflicted body wouldn't cooperate with the relief so tantalisingly within its grasp. His selfish cock strained with lust; unwilling to yeild to his more immediate needs.

He groaned in desperation, slamming a palm forcefully to the wall as he considered his limited options.

Loki leant back against the side of the cubicle, closing his eyes as he pictured your curved ass in that tempting pencil skirt. Could you wear panties underneath something that tight? He thought not.

Fingers gripped firmly around his exposed length, rubbing his foreskin over the tip leaking pre-cum as he braced himself against the sharp pain in his bladder beneath his core.

He exhaled deeply as his hand began moving with force along his length, squeezing relentlessly as he mercilessly chased his release.

His needy pants rang around the tiled walls, low moans escaping through gritted teeth as he pictured his lips toying with your nipples through that silk shirt, his tongue seeking them out as you let him worship you. Would you let him shoot his hot, sticky load over your perfect tits? Of course you would-

“Oh godddddds….fuckkk…yesss…”

His seed spilled quickly over his waiting hand, understanding the urgency as a thin stream of clear urine followed from his softening cock. He moaned loudly as the staggered stream left his tip, hitting the back of the bowl with ringing force.

Loki sighed with relief. The sharp discomfort faded as he braced one hand on the wall above him, resting his damp forehead on his bicep as he emptied at a steady pace under heavy breaths. It was over.

Finally satisfied, he opened the cubicle door– freezing in place as he saw you standing by the sink, casually drying your hands with a paper towel.

Your amused gaze raised to meet his in the mirror, running your eyes down the reflection of the bedraggled god who looked like he needed to go back to bed.

“You know this is the women’s bathroom, right?”

“I…I - what you heard I…” Loki stammered, his legendary silver tongue well and truly absent without official leave.

You turned to face him, wetting your lips as a coy smile flickered across your features.

“Don’t worry Laufeyson, your secret is safe with me” you winked, “...everyone has needs.”

__

Taggos

@lokisninerealms @lady-rose-moon @mochie85 @gigglingtigger @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @holdmytesseract @mcufan72 @brokenthelovely @xorpsbane @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @november-rayne @lyn-soso @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @thedistractedagglomeration @lokis-tigress @wheredafandomat @mischief2sarawr @chantsdemarins @demoiseller @ravenwings73 @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater

[exquisiteserotonin]

I haven't written fic in such a long time, but Pedro is such a muse. Also I initially thought my writings were going to be on my original tumblr, but I decided to move them here for organization. Enjoy! <3

Better Than Vanilla

Mr. Ben x F! Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing: Mr. Ben (SNL) x F!Reader (HS English Teacher)

Warnings: 18+,MDNI, Explicit content, SMUT, language, oral sex (male and female receiving), light bondage, PIV sex, praise, Mr. Ben is the consent king.

“So, when you get a steal, you have to conference with your team,” you emphasize, hoping that your exasperation wasn’t obvious.

One of the 6 students in your classroom began crunching on a snack he reached for in his backpack.

“Ugh!” exclaimed one of the female students, snapping a dirty look at him. “He’s not being serious!”

The student raised his hands and shrugged, “What? I’m hungry? Coach, pleeeease?”

The urge to roll your eyes grew as you heard the student whine. Ben, your colleague and academic team co-advisor, snatched up the packet of Voortman vanilla wafers.

“Thanks for the snack, kid!” he quipped as placed the wafers on your desk with a wink before turning back to your group of students. “I think we’re gonna call it a day, don’t you think?”

A sigh of relief floated from your students as they hoisted on their backpacks to leave. You also felt a weight lift off your chest and shoulders as the left. A small smile was all you could muster as the last of them shuffled out of your room. Two students lingered behind giggling as they asked Mr. Ben for extra advice. You sauntered over to your desk and sunk into your chair, organizing the mountain of papers screaming to be graded. Meanwhile the two lingerers continued their giggles as they left your classroom. Their goodbye to you was friendly and quick, the opposite of the one they offered to your counterpart.

“Bye, Mr. Beeeeeeeen.”

It escaped their lips like a squeal. Adding a groan to your eye roll seemed apropos, but you managed to keep your composure. Supervising and sponsoring an extracurricular club full of hormonal teenagers was a small price to pay, especially if it meant more money in your paycheck. You at least had the company of a colleague despite him being the object of infatuation for nearly half the student body of St Lawrence High School. Ben sat at the corner of your desk, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater and button-up shirt.

“Thanks for taking those, by the way,” you commented as he grabbed the confiscated vanilla wafers and popped one in his mouth, savoring it.

“God, I love these!” he declared, devouring another one after the first.

“Ugh, why,” you questioned, “they’re so boring.”

“You’re probably eating them wrong,” he teased. “If you let the wafer sit in your mouth a little bit, you can feel the vanilla cream just kind of melt all over.”

You cleared your throat at his description. It sounded sinful and gave you enough pause to briefly reconsider the wafers as an inferior snack. Lifting your gaze to him, you reaffirmed your resolve, “nope, too vanilla.”

He was interested in you, that much you could sense. A combination of professionalism and apprehension prohibited you from any kind of active pursuit.

A little flirting is harmless, your mind spoke. Right?

He shrugged before finishing the last of the wafers.

“How do you think they’re doing?” He asked, pointing his chin towards the door where your students had exited.

“They’re so smart,” you replied and tapped his forearm with pencil , “but I think they’re easily distracted.”

“By me?” He scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t get it,” you teased, “Must be the way you wear your tie.”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” he said dryly, playfully tossing a white board eraser at you as you opened your laptop. “Are you seriously doing more work right now? It’s Friday.”

“Hey, I’m still considered the new girl in town,” you replied as you set a stack of papers next to you to grade, “I still have to earn my keep.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching your classroom. In the doorway stood Jenny, a close friend to you and best friend to Ben.

Her arms crossed in front of her, she tutted before speaking, “you’re not seriously working this late on a Friday?!”

“That’s exactly what I told her!”

“You’re coming out with us, right?” Jenny asked. “With me, Ben, and Kate?”

“I’m trying to be good and finish these grades up; I’ve been procrastinating,” was the explanation you offered.

“It’s Friday, we’ve been here all week; do it tomorrow,” Ben suggested, giving Jenny a hug before bouncing out of your classroom. “I’m gonna head home for a minute and I’ll meet you guys there.”

“You got it,” Jenny agreed.

“Make sure this one doesn’t stay here too late,” he commented, directing his eyes to you.

Jenny nodded and you furiously began entering grades in your laptop as he left. Grabbing a student chair, she parked herself in front of your desk. The quick clicks and clacks of your typing echoed over the peaceful silence of your room. Soon she was leaning over your desk with a grin and a raised brow. She knew you well enough to realize that it wouldn’t take too much convincing to close your laptop and join her for some post-work revelries. Instead of continuing to try to convince yourself to be productive, you gave into the invitation, but not before gauging the situation a little further.

“Wait a second, this isn’t a work thing, is it?”

“Oh god, no!” Jenny sneered. “You know they’re not exactly our people.”

Your agreement with Jenny was an understatement. It wasn’t that you disliked working at St. Lawrence. The prestige that came with being a student there was also bound to the excellence of the faculty and staff. The administrators would beam at any good news that followed the people that worked at the school. This also meant being hired at the school was no easy task, especially when parents paid for a certain level of prestige. A sense of entitlement would sometimes extend to their colleagues, sometimes making team building insufferable.

“Kate’s going?” you asked Jenny, speaking of her girlfriend who did not work at the school.

She nodded, helping you pack your things and walking you out of the building and towards her silver Honda Civic.

“Do you need a ride?” Jenny teased, “you know, in case things get a little bit wild.”

“Sure, we can carpool,” you agreed. “And please, things aren’t going to get that wild.”

You took off your too-formal blazer that you had worn for most of the school day and straightened your pencil skirt before you sat in the passenger seat. You looked over with suspicion at Jenny and noticed her making an extra effort to maintain a reserved silence. As she started to drive, she glanced at you, tightening her lips.

“Are you going to give Ben a chance this time?”

You rolled your head and eyes towards her and an exasperated, but involuntary laugh escaped you.

“So, there it is.” You sighed, now fully aware of her intentions. “Why do you always try to set me up with him?”

“Because you are attractive, he is attractive, you’re both intelligent and single,” Jenny stated matter-of-factly. “And I love you both dearly and you two would make the cutest couple.”

You smiled in appreciation of your friend’s efforts. With it only being your second year of teaching at St. Lawrence, navigating friendships was still difficult as many of the teachers had been working there for a decade or more. You latched onto Jenny quickly, first as a department colleague and next as a kindred spirit in personality and interests. She urged you to sponsor the academic team this school year, knowing that her best friend in the math department, Ben, would be co-sponsor. Trusting her judgment, you knew that he was at the very least safe and respectful.

“What are you thinking?” Jenny's eyes twinkled. “You know he thinks you’re pretty hot.”

“Jenny, shut up!”

You shifted in your seat, trying to suppress your increasing intrigue. Aside from his math expertise and help in planning the academic team, “Mr. Ben’s” good-natured reputation among staff preceded him. He had always been friendly and managed to bring entertainment to even the most mundane faculty meeting. And of course, you also were most recently inundated with the way students giggled, blushed, and ogled him as he walked through the halls. As much as you hated to admit it, especially to yourself, he was pretty cute. The TikTok incident at the school assembly was to blame, you convinced yourself.

“I mean,” you paused, an image of him eating vanilla wafers at your desk flashed in your brain, “I guess he‘s cute, he’s just—he just seems so…vanilla.”

“VANILLA?!” Jenny’s voice squeaked incredulously, and it caught you by surprise. “Are you serious?”

“He wears pullover cashmere sweaters!” You cried with laughter.

“We can’t all be perfect!” she laughed with you.

Before you realized it, you had arrived at a restaurant far enough from campus, decreasing the likelihood that you’d run into any teachers or parents from your school. Jenny studied you as you got out of the car. She undid the top two buttons of your dusty pink blouse, revealing a slinky, tan, lace bodysuit you had beneath.

“Ooh, you hussy,” she teased, adding with a wink, “by the way, Ben is probably about as vanilla as you.”

The last few words silenced you. You felt your eyes get wide and felt heat growing on the apples of your cheeks.

Trying to recompose yourself, you followed Jenny inside. Ahead of you, Jenny spotted her girlfriend, Kate, who gave her a bright smile and a sweet peck to her lips.

They then lead you to a u-shaped booth with plush, rich, teal fabric peaking at the edge. And then him. Ben. You stole a glance at Jenny before she pushed you in front of her and into the booth.

“Hey Mr. Ben,”  you greeted.

“Just Ben,” he replied with a boyish grin, “we’re not at work, we don’t need to use the formalities.”

You nodded and slid closer to him, as Jenny followed you into the booth. The proximity provided a different window for you to look at him. His brown wavy hair was perfectly mussed; his shoulders were loose, relaxed, and he had even discarded the confines of his tie and cashmere sweater. Amplifying his breeziness was how he had not one, not two, but three buttons undone on his pale, terracotta colored shirt. They whispered to you to peek at his neck and chest which always remained hidden during the school day. It was as though you were bearing witness to something you weren’t supposed to see. The thought warmed your cheeks.

Maybe Jenny was right. Maybe he wasn’t as vanilla as you presumed.

“You didn’t take my advice from earlier,” he stated plainly, “you stayed at work late!”

“Hey, it wasn’t that late,” you retorted, teasingly pushing into him with your shoulder and hip.

“Jenny texted me that you almost didn’t come out with us,” he murmured, a trace of disappointment soaked in his words as he took another sip of his beer. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

He pressed into your side so your shoulders touched.

“Hmm,” you mused, wondering what more you could pull from him, “really glad, huh?”

“Well,” his lips appeared poutier in thought, “I had to see if you were more than just an amazing…brain with a good work ethic.”

His tone had you thinking sinfully again, just as when he described the vanilla wafers.

“I guess you’re about to find out,” you replied, the words coming out with ease and your tone like honey trapping a fly with sticky sweetness.

Ben looked at you with surprise, giving you a smirk and a wink. That wink was dangerous.

“What are you drinking?”

“I should ask you that,” you stated, grazing his thumb that rested on his beer mug, “is that a bock, pils, a lager?”

Ben looked at you with a raised brow, impressed. He tipped his beer towards you in acknowledgement and beckoned for a waiter to come to their booth. The response was quick, a young woman rushing to your table.

“My friend right here will have a Yuengling, like me,” he touched the small of your back and then leaned over you to get Jenny’s attention.

A tingle climbed up your spine, like electricity climbing up your back, and down again igniting every nerve ending. You fidgeted in your seat and fixed your gaze at him. You tapped your foot, counted inside your head, and observed to see if the electricity would leave. It didn’t. 

Fuck, you thought. This is new.

Your attention found its way back to you. It was possible that Ben had asked Jenny what she wanted to drink, since you heard her request for an Old Fashioned. A different kind of clarity took over you as you kept your eyes on him, like seeing something in high definition. His nose was prominent and strong. His facial hair grew in endearing patches. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, revealing a dimple on his right cheek.

“What convinced you to finally come out with us?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” you replied thoughtfully, “the promise that there would be no unwanted co-workers here.”

Ben scratched at the patchy facial hair on his chin and turned to you. His chocolatey brown eyes were big, expectant, and you swore you noticed a not-so-innocent twinkle in them.

“How’s that working out for you?”

Before you could answer, the server returned with your drinks. She handed Jenny her Old Fashioned but before you could reach your hand to take your beer, Ben took hold of it and handed it to you. It was an authentic attempt at being charming. A self-study of the consistent butterflies fluttering in your abdomen floating up to your chest, neck and shoulders declared to you that his attempt was working.

“I guess the kids were right, Ben,” you admitted, “you are in your assembly era.”

He guffawed, his voice rich and throaty. He shook his head and ran his right hand through his hair.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

With an up and down nod of your head you confirmed his answer and turned towards Jenny, “and neither are you, mommy.”

Jenny nearly choked on her old fashioned as you reminded her of her role in the fancam debacle.

“First of all, yes, I am mommy,” she affirmed and looked intently at Ben before shifting her eyes to you to wink, “and second of all, those kids don’t need to be messing in our romantic business anyway.”

Suddenly, Ben became bashful. You swore his cheeks turned the same shade of reddish pink as his shirt. Vanilla or not, you decided that Jenny’s testament of him as a good human being was worth further exploration.

For the rest of the evening, you and Ben traded life stories over intermittent drinks. Things you discovered about each other included siblings, your older brother to his  older sister and younger brother. You found he was passionate not just about teaching, but math as well and was too much of a kid to work with adults 24/7. His favorite part of teaching, like yours, was to advocate for students who never had anyone to believe in them. And a shared love of late 90s, early 2000s alternative rock led you two to engage in heavy critique of the cover band playing for the evening.

“What do you think of the band?” he asked at one point during their set.

“If they play Creed, it’s over, I’m peace-ing out,” you replied in a deadpan voice.

He keeled over in laughter, leaning over towards your shoulder.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. He smells so good.

You found yourself staring at his neck and the hint of chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt. It made you feel shallow. You glanced at your watch as a distraction, noting it was nearly midnight. Jenny had been ushered out at Kate’s behest, indicating that the whiskey was making her extra drunk and extra sleepy. You were now without a ride.

“My driver left me,” you sighed to Ben.

“Oh shit,” Ben remarked, “I would offer to take you home, but I might have to Uber it---I’m not sure I can drive.”

An inspired proposition entered your mind. A conflict waged in your mind, contemplating all the ways this evening could end and the one way you wanted it to, “Um…well, we could share an Uber.”

“Well, sure,” he replied earnestly, “if you don’t mind.”

He followed you as you beckoned him outside with a single look. As you stood before each other, you noted the broadness of his shoulders as he reached his hands over his head to stretch, rolling his shoulders up and then down the length of his back. You caught a glimpse of the elastic of his boxer briefs and his belly. The physicality of his movements was enticing and kept the tingling flame you felt earlier in your stomach alight, willing it to travel lower between your legs.

I’m fucked. You thought to yourself.

Ben opened the car door for you. You slid in and he followed, his knee brushing against your leg where your pencil skirt had slid up a few inches. Ben slid in, reaching over, grazing the exposed skin of your thigh with his hand. He looked up at you holding your gaze captive for what seemed like minutes.

“Sorry,” his voice came out in a gravelly hush.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you countered, biting your lip involuntarily.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you spoke softly, keeping your eyes on him.

A grin grew on Ben’s face. “Same.”

Emboldened with desire, your hand caressed the mapwork of veins on his forearm, gently tracing the curve of his knuckles, and the lines on his fingers until he opened his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You watched, transfixed, as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He turned to face you, your noses just a few inches apart. You tilted your head and perused the shape of his pouty lips, soft, and inviting. Nuzzling your nose to his, your lips nearly touched his sweet pout.

“I’m going to ask you in,” the confession melted off your tongue.

He took another deep breath, and you swear that once again, for the third time that evening, his cheeks were quickly painted red. The car began to slow as you noticed it approaching your neighborhood, until it stopped in front of your modest, but adorable mid-century home. You slid out of the car, leaving your door open for him to follow. When he did, your exhalation threatened to consume you. A hot-blooded thumping coursing through your body. He closed the car door gently behind him, thanking the driver with a wave before he turned to follow up on the walkway to your door.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him close in behind you, feeling the heat escaping  from your body and his. A tiny gasp escaped as you felt his hand behind you, touching you first at the small of your back and then circling around to land at your hip. He stepped forward and pulled your body close. Instantly, you felt a tenting build in his pants, pressing himself against you while you unlocked the door. Reverberating tingles vibrating over every inch of your skin. His other hand caressed up your triceps, to your shoulders, gently brushing the hair away from your neck leaving goose bumps behind in their wake. Replacing his hand, his nose caressed your neck, breathing you until you felt his lips taste you with gentle kisses.

“Fuck me,” he panted, warms breaths leaving him as your touch pulsated through every cell in his body.

“That’s the plan,” you smirked and growled at him

You rushed into the house, shoving the door closed behind you. Your lips caressed his Adam’s apple, breathing him in as you licked, kissed, and nibbled on his neck and ear. A growl rattled from him to your ears, his heat rising from his body with each touch. You pressed your lips hungry meeting his soft pout. Instinctively your hands weaved through the soft waves of his hair, until you tugged at it. Not too hard, not too soft but just enough for him to open his mouth with a gasp, allowing you to savor the taste of his bottom lip with your tongue until you met his tongue with fervor.

You pulled from him to take a breath of frenzied desire as you simultaneously attacked each other’s buttons. You marveled at his broad chest and shoulders as you pulled back his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. A wanton dizziness took over you as his large hands pulled you effortlessly towards him. His bulge throbbed against you as you pressed your pelvis into his, gasping and heady with desire. Electric desire moved through you, your skin on fire as a primal lust darkened his eyes while he studied your tits and how your nipples stood at attention, beneath the tan, lacy fabric of your bodysuit.

“Fuck, baby,” the way he growled at you was decidedly not vanilla, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

Lips hot and swollen you grabbed him by the belt loops of his slacks, pulling him towards your bedroom. A giddy gasp escaped you when the jingle of his loose belt buckle reached your ears, sliding it free from its confines tossing and onto your bed.

Ben caressed your shoulders and began to play with the thin straps of your body suit pulling them slowly down your arms, down the fabric covering your breasts, ruching the fabric as he slid it down to your waist. A moan escaped lips as he pulled you with one hand at your waist and the other found a home at your neck with the perfect amount of pressure. A yelp left you as he pushed back against you until you felt the edge of the bed behind your knees, where you fell together.

His mouth found your right nipple licking the numb in tight circles before taking a small bite. The fire on your skin grew hotter from the wet heat of his tongue and it left you panting for more. His deep laugh rumbled from his chest to yours. In his dark eyes he reveled at how he was slowly making you come undone. That pout of his traveled the valley of your chest and gave your other nipple the same attention.

You felt his hardening cock against your thigh and your core began to pound and cry for him. Reaching your hand to his boxer briefs you pull at his cock, eliciting a low moan as your hands slid off the barrier keeping you from his thick hard member. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size. An astonished gulp left your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your grip barely closed around its girth as you stroked up and down his entire length. A tear of precum escaped the tip. You look up at him deviously and bring your tongue down to taste the saltiness of him. You then wrap your lips around him, taking as much of him in as you possibly can, causing your cheeks to hollow. The taste of him was a perfect combination of sweet and musky and sometimes salty as a hint of more precum coated your tongue.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “Stop, wait.”

You released him with an audible pop, pouting a little bit.

“I just want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck, are you real?” He sighed, brushing his hands through wavy locks.

You nodded and then gasped as he grabbed you and tossed you on the bed like a rag doll. An excited moan leapt from you through heaving breaths as you savored the feeling of his naked body as he crawled over you. A different expression took over his gentle face as he caressed you and kissed your inner biceps as he raised both of your hands above your head. His hot breath branded you as he began to whisper into your ear.

“Can I cuff you with my belt,” he growled.

A whimper escaped you. You were no stranger to being cuffed, but the offer from Ben was…unexpected. The wetness at your core grew when he asked and all you could do was nod.

“Good thing you picked the correct answer,” he sighed, satisfying his hunger with a taste of your lips.

“I like this,” you keened, “this side of you.”

“Good, because you’re going to do exactly as I say,” the demand made you breathless. “You’re going to move when I say you move. You’re going to cum when I let you cum and I’m going to fuck you, when I’m ready.”

“Ben--,” you called out his name like a mantra.

He grabbed his belt from where you had tossed it on the bed. His hands moved with the quick competence of a man who had definitely done this before. The deftness in the way looped the leather as he cuffed your wrists with the perfect amount of pressure left you panting.

“You sure this is OK?” he asked, his fingers gingerly stroking your face and lips.

You opened your mouth taking one digit, swirling your tongue around it, and sucking the tip.

You nod and replied, “Consent is so fucking sexy.”

He smiled and kissed your lips, neck, and breasts. He pulled your pencil skirt from your body, but tortuously left you in your bodysuit, damp with heat of your desire. Your breaths were heavy with anticipation as he traveled to your ankle, up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thigh, until he floated closer to your center. His nose breathed in the scent of your wet core and his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, licking at the fabric that separated her from his tongue.

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” he moaned, kissing, and licking the fabric again causing shivers to erupt all over your body.

“Ben!” You cried and you writhed beneath him. “Please.”

Your wrists strained against the thick leather of his belt, desperate to touch and grip his body with your hands. our back when you heard him chuckle as he pulled the thin fabric of the bottom of your bodysuit to the side. He flattened his tongue, pressing it through your folds and up to your clit. Like a man starved, he devoured you licking up and down, up, and down and then circling and sucking at your clit. Then he took sanctuary there, making it his place of worship, circling you, sucking you and then licking you again, between maddeningly slow and unbearably fast. A jolt twisted through your body when he slowed down to a stop.

“Oh fuck, Ben, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please, let me cum.”

“You sure?” his voice full of wanton lust.

You bucked your hips towards him, and you felt his soft pouty lips smirk into your core. His large hands ripped the thin, cheap fabric of your bodysuit, tossing it to the floor. A lascivious chuckle rumbled from his chest as his hands seized your hips before putting his mouth back to work on you. You were devoured, as if you were the last and best meal he would ever have. You trembled slowly at first, your core beginning to quiver and quake. The quaking moved outwards from your core, ready to erupt within your body, as he teased, licked, and sucked, slowing down, or speeding up until you cried out his name begging for mercy.

“Oh god, Ben; you’re so good,” you wailed, the leather becoming tauter around your wrists. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes while your breaths became more and more ragged.

“Yes, sweetheart, cum for me, cum for me then I’ll fuck you.”

An order, not a request.

A tightness began resonating outward from your core, as Ben latched his mouth to your clit and suddenly you felt him push not one, but two fingers deep inside you, finger fucking you relentlessly until you could do nothing but cry out and scream his name. Your own personal mantra. A merciless spark took over your body until every inch of you trembled, as a wetness spread onto your sheets beneath you.

“Wow, baby, you are amazing,” he sighed, granting you a moment to regain your composure.

It felt as though you had run a marathon, you were breathing so hard.

“Was that?” You asked in shock through breaths, “did I?”

“Yes, and it was amazing,” he confirmed, releasing your hands from his thick leather belt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never squirted before.”

You shook your head vigorously, the freedom of your hands allowing you to pull his face towards you in a passionate kiss. He growled over you, capturing you by the waist, allowing your bodies to savor the heat and sweat from one another.

“You taste so good,” he praised. “Sorry about your bodysuit, I guess I’ll have to buy you a new one.” 

It didn’t matter. Clothes just seemed like an annoying inconvenience. You needed to be naked with him. You felt how rock hard his member was, upright and ready for you.

“Ben, please, I need you inside me.”

“Condom?”

You held his gaze before speaking, “I’m clean and protected, you?”

The excitement rose within you again at his confirmation. He leaned over you, his eyes almost black with lust. He pushed your legs apart with his muscular thighs before kneeling upright, his large, capable hands dragging your hips towards him. He wrapped your legs around his hips as he grabbed the base of his throbbing cock, slapping it to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your heart pounded into your ears as he lined up his tip to your glistening entrance. He pushed through your slickness, inch by inch, agonizingly slow, rewarding you with his pulsating girth . You threw your head back, nearly sobbing as he stretched you. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as he rolled his hips into yours, moving his length in and out.

“You’re so big, you feel so good,” you praised as you felt him increase his pace.

“I’m never leaving this pretty little cunt,” he groaned as he rolled and thrust into you.

“Faster, baby, fuck me harder, faster,” you implored.

His thick fingers pressed into your hips, and he began to drive into you exactly as you asked, pounding into your tight, wet cunt. Your name left his lips in repeated growls through gritted teeth. It was like he fucking owned you. A gravelly hiss leaves his throat as your walls rippled and squeezed his thick cock. He thrusted deep into you, hitting your g-spot and you gifted him with a loud moan of his name, your voice unable to form any other words.

His left hand pressed down hard at the base of your neck, and you felt his thrusts begin to roll into you at a slower pace. With his right hand, he lifted your knee towards your chest, hooking it over his shoulder. A pleading whimper escaped your lips when it felt like he was almost completely out of you. But as quickly as the thought drifted in, he pounded into you even harder than before. The pleasure was amplified one-hundred times with the newfound angle. The way his cock pounded your g-spot was somehow better this way and just as you thought it couldn’t get more perfect, Ben took his hand from your neck and began circling your clit with his thumb.

You let out a long, loud moan, crying out his name in a never-ending chant. “Ben! I can’t, my pussy can’t, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he moaned with each thrust. “Wh—where, can I?”

“Cum inside me!” you demanded.

His cock throbbed and reverberated in you, until you found it impossible to contain everything you felt. Your orgasm washed all over you, your core quivering and every part of your body shaking as he thrust in with every bit of strength he had. Not once, not twice, but three more times, he chased your high with his own until you felt him fill you with ropes of his sweet, hot cum. Your voice cried out with him as he hissed and moaned through his own orgasm. His cock stayed sheathed within you, savoring how your core pulsated around him. He released his hands from your hips and slowly he pulled out of you. You let out a luxurious gasp, feeling a twinge of sadness from not feeling him inside you anymore.

A breath of satisfied exhaustion left him as he rolled next to you, but he also deftly found a way to wrap you in his arms, pulling you close into him. You came down from your high together and you listened intently to his heartbeat as you caressed his chest gently with your fingers. He brought his left hand to yours and began to mirror your gentle touches, bringing your palm to his lips kissing the inside of it. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you even closer, your legs tangled together, your bodies still glowing. You closed your eyes, breathing him in as you felt the velvety soft touch of his fingers caressing your hair and your shoulders. He pressed his soft lips to your forehead, a kiss so gentle it stood in direct contrast to how relentlessly he had fucked you. And it all felt right.

You looked up at him and he held his gaze to yours. A serene smile grew on your face, your cheeks flushing with a rosy warmth. 

“Wow,” was the only thing that could leave your lips as you caught your breath.

The balmy air of sex hovered over you. A feeling of surprise and giddiness mixed in with the afterglow as you thought of the pale pink impressions the leather of his belt left on your wrists. Just thinking of the way he controlled your body with his tongue, hands, and cock was almost enough to make your arousal reawaken.

“Mmmm, that was not…vanilla,” you exhaled, chuckling at the thought of him eating those snack wafers, “you are an enigma, sweet Ben.”

“Thank you, I think?” He laughed.

Your hand traced up his Adam’s apple, snuggling against him and caressing your fingers along his endearingly patchy facial hair. You propped yourself up and brought your face close to his, nuzzling your nose against his, inviting him in for a sensual kiss.

“I promise you, it’s a good thing,” a giggle escaped your lips. “Even just laying here with you is…it’s something.”

“Something you want to try again?” he asked, his breath hitching as he waited for your answer.

“Fuck yeah,” you replied without hesitation. “But…”

“Uh oh, there’s a…butt!” He laughed, as he smacked your behind, tingling your core again with desire.

“Ben,” you laughed with him, gently caressing the soft skin of his pelvis, “what I was going to say is, ‘yes, there is a 100 percent chance of this happening again,’ as long as you take me out on a real date.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the most attractive and radiant smile.

“How does breakfast sound?”

“Mmmm,” you whispered, pulling your soft bed sheets over the two of you, “I would love that.”

Thank you to my darling friends @legendary-pink-dot & @blueheat1-blog for beta-ing this for me! &lt;3

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier

Did I mention this fic is self-indulgent? Because it is. Also, not me hoping certain writers I respect accidentally stumble onto my work and enjoy it.

Chapter 4

(~2.3k words, see chapter list here)

You feel like an idiot.

You probably look like one, too. In the past twenty four hours, you've jumped off a fifty-foot wall, literally asked a god to kill you, and been shuffled back to the Knights' headquarters by three familiar faces who were definitely not expecting you to blurt out, "Please don't bow to me, we should check what color my blood is first, just in case!"

...To be fair, they were probably more surprised about not being able to understand you rather than what you said, but still. An idiot. You can already tell this is going to be one of those things you lie awake cringing about years down the road.

Your sole saving grace is the fact that it was still early when the four of you arrived back in town. So as the three women ushered you through the winding streets and up the stairs, you noticed only two other citizens milling about, both of whom seemed too preoccupied with their own business to take much notice of your group.

Of course, your mind is running a mile a minute the whole time. How was I supposed to know this wasn't an imposter au??? Because it certainly doesn't appear to be, if the kneeling and relieved looks are anything to go by. You try to tell yourself that you couldn't have known, that it was better to be safe than sorry once you saw the statue and heard the whispers, but it's hard to convince yourself as you watch Jean slump down into her office chair the moment you return, rubbing her temples and looking like she hasn't slept in weeks.

Apparently, hearing your god went for a stroll through town before jumping from a high ledge and disappearing will do that to you.

Lisa pats her back sympathetically while murmuring something you can't make out. Meanwhile, Amber energetically inserts herself into your field of vision. "Tgi o zkm aue mtonzetg xaue kigxm? Kbgn aue ejgkxrg tkzgk? Jrauc aue kqor mtonzksuy uz qtoxj?"

You stare blankly. She smacks a hand to her forehead in obvious abashment. "Nmg, yvuunc, exxuy, o zumxul... sxk... rro zyap zkm aue g yygrm lu xkzgc." She sighs a little - mostly at herself, it seems - before smiling sheepishly and gesturing wordlessly toward the conference table on one side of the room. Hesitantly, you move to take a seat. She beams. "Egqu! Rro kh znmox qigh nzoc zgnz xkzgc-"

"Xkhsg," Jean cuts in, making both of you look in her direction. She gives you a slight nod before focusing in on Amber. "Rro kqgz kxgi lu zgnz. Ykxknz ksuy krvukv jo kqor aue uz xknzgm jgkzyto."

Amber salutes, and Jean rattles off what you assume are orders of some kind before the outrider gives her a firm nod. Turning to you, she sweeps a bow before offering you a cheerful wave and disappearing through the office door. Lisa gives Jean one last pat on the shoulder before heading out herself. (Whether she has her own directives or she's simply out to brunch, you're not sure.)

Meanwhile, the Acting Grand Master rummages around in her desk before pulling out an alarmingly thick stack of papers. Yikes. You certainly don't envy her workload. You watch as she selects a couple sheets from the top, places them on the center of her desk, and proceeds to bring the rest... over to you. They're blank, you realize, as she sets a feather pen next to the stack in front of you. Curiously, you look at her, but she just gives you a vague smile and gestures towards them before disappearing out the door as well. You listen to the click as the door closes behind her. For a moment, you do nothing but stare at the plain stack of papers in awe.

Did... did I just get Klee'd?

Jean returns a short while later to find you scribbling furiously. You've already gone through four... five sheets of paper, though none of them are full. You give her the barest hint of a nod as she offers you a glass of water, before she returns to her desk and whips out a quill to do her own work.

You're writing down everything. People, mostly. Every playable character, future playable character, might-be-a-playable-character makes the list. You've got one for each nation that's been released so far, one for what you know of Sumeru, and one that covers both Snezhnaya and Khaenri'ah, labelled "People to avoid (just to be safe)". Good-looking or not, some of those people are definitely psycho; now that you're safe, you remind yourself that you're too young to die. Maybe after you've met all the other characters, finally seen Fontaine and Natlan, and learned how to do all that over-powered magic shit isekai protagonists usually do, then you can seek them out. But that's at the bottom of your list for now.

The top of your list being, obviously, figure out a way to communicate and find out what the fuck is going on.

You furrow your brow thinking about it. As things stand, it seems inevitable that you'll have to learn this strange language of theirs in order to get by, but... in all honesty, you're not sure you can. Not just because languages aren't your forte, but because you're literally not sure your vocal cords have the same capabilities theirs do. There are so many guttural sounds and long, vowel-less mishmashes that they often strike you as a keyboard smash vocalized. If it weren't for a few slight regularities you're starting to pick up on, you'd almost believe it was just that.

A light tap on the door makes both you and Jean look up. There's a soft click as it opens, and a giant stack of pancakes enters confidently.

Oh my god, that's Noelle.

Said maid-knight breezes over to the conference table, shifts the loaded platter easily to one hand as she offers you a delicate curtsy, then holds it out to you with a smile. Evidently, this ridiculous amount of food is all for you.

Come to think of it, I am pretty hungry, you realize. The apple you ate with Venti was surely hours ago now, if the amount of light breaching the windows is any indication. Hastily, you straighten up the papers and push them to the side. She sets the platter down and takes a step back, watching and waiting attentively as you spear a large bite and stick it in your mouth.

If the apple was good, the pancakes are heavenly. They're thick and fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness, and they practically melt on your tongue as you dive back in for more. At this rate, maybe you really will eat them all. You did skip dinner yesterday, after all. (For no reason, in retrospect. Thanks, unnecessary paranoia.) Noelle beams when you give her a thumbs up and go for another bite, and in the background, you notice some of the tension ease from Jean's shoulders as well.

Then a hand reaches over the table and grabs your papers.

"Mmm!" you object, with a mouth full of food.

The culprit raises his hands in defense. "Es ykomuruvg, xaue kigxm, zah jo kqor uz kqgz g quur zg yonz, lo aue ztuj jtos," Kaeya says coolly, and you wonder when he even came in. It must have been right after Noelle, but you were too focused on the pancakes to notice. You eye him warily as he pores over the top sheet - Mondstadt - before sighing and shaking his head at Jean. "Kbo xkbkt tkky yonz zvoxiy kxulkh. Aue egs ztgc uz qyg xau erkbur tgoxgxhor, zah zo yquur kqor kbkc zum xau qxuc zai zau xul ya."

You assume that's the long way of saying "I can't read shit", because Jean sighs for the nth time as he returns the papers, not even bothering to flip through the rest of them. "Ykny mtoquur xul etg jtoq lu yjxuikx tu knz tuozgazoy znmox cut," she responds. "Zah kny ztykuj zikvdk uz jtol mtonzetg. Eh rrg yztauiig, yonz ztygc jkyuvvay uz tkvvgn."

At this, everyone in the room turns to look at you. You stiffen, and your gaze flits from face to face, trying to figure out what might have been said. After a moment, you offer them a shrug, not knowing what else to do. This seems to be an acceptable (if not expected) response, though, and Kaeya turns back to Jean. "Unc kyrk joj aue jtky xul?"

"Xul cut, zyap g krvaui yxknzu. Xkzlg egjxkzyke, o ztuj ztgc uz srkncxkbu sknz. O qtonz jzo kh zykh lo kc tgi kxamol zau erzigdk enc yonz yo mtotkvvgn lo kc tgi."

He nods, casting another glance your way before moving to sit down at the other end of the table. This seems to be the end of the conversation, because Jean lowers her head to refocus on her work, while Kaeya stares pensively into space, mindlessly running his thumb over the ridges of a coin in his hand. Only Noelle turns back to you and offers a reassuring smile.

She still has yet to say a word, and you realize that's her way of being considerate of your situation. Still, between her and Venti, you're starting to realize just how much you can communicate with only a look. You give her a small smile back, and gesture to the chair beside yours - she's been standing attentively the whole time, but she's going to be there a while if you're really going to eat all of these. She shakes her head and waves her hands as if to say she couldn't possibly, but when you gesture again, she relents and takes a seat. You give a satisfied nod and return to eating. For once, the silence is almost comfortable.

You're almost finished with the food when the next interruption comes.

Correction: you are finished, the food is not.

You push your plate back to Noelle, a slightly guilty look on your face, when there's a series of sharp taps on the door. You jump a little, but no one else does; in fact, Kaeya and Noelle have no reaction at all, while Jean only looks up long enough to say, "Kygkrv ksui to."

This time, it's Eula who enters, looking equal parts graceful and imposing as she strides over the threshold. She scans the room like a hawk, and when her eyes land on you, she takes several steps in your direction before dropping to one knee and placing a hand on her chest. "Zo yo g zgkxm xutun uz zkks aue, xaue kigxm. Nmaunzrg knz ztkxxai ykitgzysaixoi kxg zyus kzgtazxulta, kygkrv cutq zgnz o sg zg xaue kiobxky."

To your credit, you do not blurt out the same stupid thing as the last time someone kneeled to you. Instead, you give her a slight bob of your head, even though it's somewhat off-putting to see someone so prideful kneeling before you. On the other hand, you suppose it's actually quite in-character of her to be so formal, so you try not to be too bothered by it. "It's nice to meet you, Eula."

You think that might be the first normal thing you've said so far.

She gives you a searching look before dipping her head in acknowledgement and rising to face Jean. "Xul knz kqgy lu eitkoiollk, xkhsg jtg o zorvy knz zyor. Erkzgtazxulta, ujkhrg jtg kyuxiay zyas kh zau to knz jrkol kxkncksuy, kyagikh knz vsgi tu ktovytumgxj ygc ezvsk."

Jean nods, looking disappointed but not surprised. "Juuzyxkjta. Qtgnz aue xul mtoum rrg knz egc zau kxknz. Kygkrv kqgz g zgky, aue ejgkxrg cutq unc kxkc mtozogc xul, tknz."

Eula nods, dips her head to you again, and then takes a seat across from her fellow captain. Meanwhile, Noelle rises with equal grace and takes your plate, curtsying again before leaving without a sound.

This time, the ensuing silence is infinitely more awkward. You no longer have anything to occupy you, so you sit stiffly, listening to the tick of the clock on the wall. Eula seems to be doing the same, and Kaeya flips his coin idly. You're not quite sure what you're all waiting for, mind you, but you figure it's best to just go along with it at this point.

You consider working the lists some more, just to make sure you didn't miss anything, but you already know you didn't. Let's face it: anything worth remembering, you were way too invested in Genshin to forget easily. The mere existence of your little lists was just the result of sheer boredom, and not because you thought they'd actually do anything for you. Still, you're considering reading back over them, just to feel busy, when a sudden commotion erupts in the hallway.

Three voices blend together: one annoyed, one gruff, and one whiny. Evidently, the racket has caught the others' attention as well, because every single one of you is looking towards the door when it suddenly bursts open, revealing a straining outrider. "Tkbk lo xkzygs iaroj yvuxj knz ykmxgni, knz mtozig jtgxm xkzygs rrozy jkzykawkx xaue kitkykxv!" she exclaims, dragging... something you can't see from here... behind her. Hers is the annoyed voice.

The whiny one, possibly the 'thing' being dragged, responds. "Ng, ztgi kc zyap zxuy yonz zau xkzgr? O kbgn ykigrv uz kh, ymtuy uz mtoy!"

The last voice is drowned out by the scraping of chairs as both Jean and Eula rise to their feet. Amber gives one final tug, and she and a figure clad in green go tumbling onto the office floor.

Now you're on your feet as well. "Venti!?"

Rubbing the back of his head, the bard peels himself off the ground with a sheepish chuckle. "Urrkn, xaue kigxm."

You gape at him. Your brain is rapidly churning out questions: Why did you dump me at Windrise and leave? Why did Amber bring you here? How did she find you? ...Why was she dragging you?

All of those questions fly out the window, however, when Diluc enters behind him, looking past everyone else in the room to address Jean. "Sorry xul knz egrkj," he says calmly. "Yg you tgi kky, we zon tg jkzikvdkta vsah to knz jgux."

......whAT?!

[oiwxa]

UMAZANE MISLI (teaser) | c.bg

or, the one where beomgyu hates that he's your biggest fan.

STARRING: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Beomgyu thought that a life of academic excellence, popularity contests, and ego trips were left behind the moment he graduated from a prestigious private school. However, he found himself locked in an intense, three-year rivalry with you. He always had to be number one in everything that the two of you were involved in, but god damn, your band makes incredible music. Lord knows what would happen if one day, you find him moshing to one of your basement shows. Alas, you were oblivious, and he managed to convince himself that an oversized hoodie immediately transformed him into a spy that infiltrated your band's smelly, sweat-infused, beer-rotting basement.

ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 25-30k

RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

DIRECTOR'S CUT: please listen to umazane misli by joker out omg that band has a massive chokehold on me since eurovision smh

© oiwxa 2023. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

The sound of the drums resonated in his ears as he watched you effortlessly strike each component of the kit with what he thought looked like large chopsticks. Yes, those large chopsticks that his grandmother often used to cook meals in the Choi household apparently doubled as a percussive instrument played by some of the greatest musicians alive. It also just so happens that you were on his list of being one of the GOATs—he just refused to say it to your face. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a fanboy of you, nor did he want to believe that he had a giant, most likely unrequited crush on the persona you developed as a drummer. He just refused to let you bask in your own ego at the thought that he, Choi Beomgyu, had a hoodie on at the mosh pit to a band you held under wraps as one of your best-kept secrets. If you were to find out that the Choi Beomgyu never missed any of your band’s shows albeit being incognito, he knew you would never let him get away with it.

That was because, on campus, you were his biggest rival in everything. While he was the captain of the school’s well-to-do soccer team, you commanded the once dejected and loss-ridden volleyball team with an iron fist. On every test and assignment that each professor had to offer, the two of you were neck and neck, always first or second, but never third. Sometimes, the two of you felt sorry for every match that the debates club managed to compete in, because the entire competition would consist of you and Beomgyu bickering about whatever topic was assigned—leading both of you to utter controversial and extremely questionable comments about women’s rights, human trafficking, or space exploration. One time, both of you took things too personally at a model UN conference that tackled the gender pay gap. Even if the two of you were chairs that oversaw the entire assembly, there always had to be a competition in who spoke the most or who passed the most resolutions. The quality of these resolutions didn’t even matter when the two of you were constantly arguing about who was the most neutral voice in the room. The worst part about it all? It was a charity conference that your university hosted, with high schoolers as the main participants. Both of you weren’t even the main contenders for the event, and yet Beomgyu still found a way to make it a competition.

For as long as Beomgyu could remember, he always had the deep-seated urge to defeat you in everything—which was why he could never let you know that he was perhaps the biggest fan of your band and the music you produced with them. He contemplated starting his own band ever so often, but to him, the basement was a sanctuary that had to be protected. In these small, cramped, and beer-reeking venues, he could finally be himself, free from the bondage of academic excellence, gym locker insecurities, and the pressures of finding a fruitful and successful career. It was where he could cut his sleeves off and display all of the tattoos he’s poked in his skin with a cheap, 20,000 won tattoo gun that he bought on impulse after losing to you by half a mark on a finance exam. It was the place where he didn’t need to find an enemy in you—a place where he could be in the same room as you without wanting to rip your head off or beat you up into a fine, neat pulp.

—IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE CREDITS FOR THIS FILM, DON'T HESITATE TO SEND AN ASK OR FILL OUT OIWXA MEDIA'S PARTICIPATION SURVEY FOR FUTURE RELEASES.

[smurphyse]

Are You Ready For This? | Spencer Reid

Series Masterlist | Smurph's Masterlist

Part 18 of Room 405

Warnings: angst, vomiting, pregnancy tests

Summary: Spencer and JJ have a talk, the witness' father comes by the BAU. Later, you and Spencer talk before you both head to work for the evening...

Spencer strolled into the BAU the next day grinning like a fool. 

He was going to meet your husband, to finally start the process of being fully in your life. He was going to meet your kids, all of them and on purpose this time, and words could never explain how excited he was. 

You were everything to him. Your family would be too, all of them. Even Chuck, and he was determined to get him to like Spencer… especially if he was going to marry you someday. 

He spent most of the day going over case files with renewed vigor, combing through data on their newly discovered female unsub and trying to make heads or tails from the profile. Alone in the conference room while the rest of the team went over information on other cases, he poured through files slowly and methodically. 

After a bit, his mind fog of crime scene photos and geographical data was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He looked up to spot JJ lingering in the doorway with that embarrassed-but-sorry look on her face that she usually got after they fought.

“Hey,” she said awkwardly, waving a hand at the piles of paper. “Mind if I join you?”

“I’m not mad at you, JJ,” Spencer said pointedly, but he smiled softly at her.

“Yeah, I’m mostly mad at myself,” she muttered, looking down at her shuffling feet. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“I would have,” he replied, and she looked up at him and made her way over.

Sitting on the edge of the table, JJ gazed out the half-shuttered windows and swung her legs. Spencer leaned back in his chair and watched her amusedly, an expectant smile on his face. They did this a lot after an argument, and by now it all seemed a bit ridiculous.

She chanced a glance his way, and they both broke out in stupid grins, laughing lightly. JJ scoffed and scrunched up her nose, “I just want the best for you.”

“She is,” he said simply, and JJ nodded.

“Good,” she murmured, “you deserve it, Spence.”

Spencer licked his bottom lip and twirled his pen in his hand, watching her with amusement, “That’s it? No scolding or yelling? You think I deserve a married woman with kids?”

JJ chuckled in slight annoyance and shot him a look, “I think you’ll get exactly what you deserve in the end, you dick.”

Spencer laughed lightly to himself and stood, the chair rolling out behind him. He sat on the edge of the table and wrapped an arm around JJ’s shoulders, and she wrapped one around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“She’s really pretty,” JJ said, and Spencer burst into laughter. “And those shoes, oh my god… Do you think she has a good connect for them?”

“I can ask,” Spencer chortled, shaking his head. The things the women in his life decided to hyperfixate on. 

“Are you happy?” JJ asked quietly, giving his waist a small squeeze. 

Spencer nodded and kissed the side of his best friend’s head, his heart swelling painfully as he answered, “I’m happy. Very happily in love. I’ll explain it all sometime soon, but she’s got a… unique situation we’re working around.”

“Unhappy marriage?”

“Mm-hmm,” Spencer grunted, frowning. “Happy marriage, they’re just not actually together anymore. Haven’t been for years, but they stayed married for the kids. Title only.”

JJ hummed and nodded against him, “That’s some dedication. Are you sure you’re ready for all that?”

Spencer pulled away expecting judgment, but of course JJ’s eyes held only concern for him. Her eyes welled nervously as she expected anger from him as their arguments tended to go, but Spencer sighed and nodded, “I’m ready for all of it, JJ. I’m gonna meet her husband this week for dinner, and if he’s ready I can meet the kids sometime. I want a life with this woman and her family, even her ex. She loves him, and I wouldn’t ever take that away from her.”

“Stepdad Spencer Reid…” JJ smirked, but then her smile faded. “Does she want more kids? You always wanted kids of your own.”

Spencer shrugged, “She says she’s willing to have more but… I don’t need kids that look like me to be a good dad, y’know?”

“Yeah, of course I know,” she scolded him like he was an idiot, slapping at his chest. “I’ve been waiting to be an aunt for twenty years. It’s about time you gave me some kids to spoil.”

Her face lit up and she grinned wide at him, “Garcia’s going to lose her fucking mind! All those kids will be so spoiled by us.”

Spencer laughed as he looked down on the excitement on her face, but a noise coming from the bullpen made both of them turn. Yelling sounded through the hall, and Spencer and JJ flashed one another a look before running down the ramp to see a tall blond man slamming his hands down on a desk as he yelled at Hotch.

“... just a kid, and she’s not sleeping,” the man pleaded, hands shaking as he looked at a pained faced Hotch. 

“Mr. Arends-,” he began but the man cut him off. 

“My wife is losing her mind, Agent Hotchner. You need to find this woman and put her away,” he begged, and tears visibly rolled down his cheeks. “I can’t… I can’t help her like this. She’s too scared.”

“Hotch?” JJ asked, and both men turned to face them. The blond man was taller than Aaron, bulky beyond belief with muscles that coiled dangerously under his shirt. But his desperate gaze betrayed any signs of rage, instead it was full of grief.

Hotch sighed and waved a hand between them, “Charles Arends, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and SSA Jennifer Jareau. They’re two of my team, two of the best and we are all doing everything we can to find the woman your daughter saw.”

Charles nodded, tugging on his fingers anxiously, “Charlie. Look, agents, my daughter is traumatized. I know you want to talk to her again, but… I don’t think she can take it.”

“She seemed more than willing to talk to us the other day,” Hotch started, but Charlie shook his head.

“After the screaming fit she had this morning, my wife will gut you all before she lets you near her again.”

“Yes, I got her voicemail…” Hotch grumbled, but then his dark eyes lit up with an idea. He waved a hand at Spencer, “Dr. Reid is one of our best when it comes to talking with children. I’m sure if your wife met him she’d open up to the idea of us interviewing her again.”

Charlie eyed Spencer and his awkward wave critically, “I think she’d snap that guy in half.”

“How about this?” Hotch offered, “We’ll come by the Nocturne tonight and introduce them. If she gets… upset, we’ll reevaluate. I think your daughter is our best bet at finding this woman and knows more than she thinks. A cognitive interview with Dr. Reid might even help her begin to heal once she’s finally able to talk about it.”

“I’ve had a lot of success with them,” Spencer said when Charlie made a face. “Basically, we go through the event together, but she can stop it at any time. She can hold my hand, your hand, her mother’s… it’ll help her feel like she wasn’t alone during it.”

Spencer sighed, remembering a few of his own after his traumas, “It’s the first real step to moving on. She has to get through it first.”

“My wife goes on stage at nine,” Charlie decided, eyeing Spencer with hope and distrust at the same time. “The kids are with a babysitter on nights when we both work. I’ll be on stage with her but we have a break at ten.”

“We’ll be there,” Hotch told him, and Charlie nodded.

He turned to walk away, but something in Spencer screamed at him to reach out, so he hustled over and opened the doors for him, “I’ll take you downstairs.”

Neither man said much even as they got to the elevator. Charlie leaned against the back wall and sighed heavily. The big man seemed so small even though he was nearly a head taller than Spencer, and he couldn’t help himself as he said quietly, “It doesn’t seem like it now, but it will get better. It takes a lot of work.”

Charlie rolled his head toward Spencer and nodded, “My wife is very protective. She had our oldest when she was pretty young and she raised her by herself before we met.”

A prideful respect ripped through him. It sounded like you and your own dedication to your children, so fierce and mother bear-like, Spencer couldn’t help but smile.

“My girlfriend is the same way.”

“She also crazy?” Charlie chuckled, but it was full of exhaustion. Spencer could tell the man hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time, and it was weighing heavily on him that he couldn’t help his own daughter. 

“Yeah, she’s nuts, but I’m in love with her,” he huffed, and Charlie chuckled and nodded to himself. 

As the elevator opened, Charlie set a heavy hand on Spencer’s shoulder and gave him a small squeeze, “Thanks, doc. I’ll see what I can do, but… my wife is feral when it comes to keeping those kids safe.”

He took a step out, his hand sliding from Spencer to his side. Spencer held the door and called out, “I’ll keep her safe, Charlie. You guys just need to let me.”

Charlie nodded, giving Spencer a feeble smile in return, “My wife would like you. She’d say you have puppy eyes and make fun of you, but I think she’d like you.”

Spencer smiled, “Then I’ll put on my best face tonight when I meet her. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, doc,” he muttered, giving him a wave, and then he headed out the door. 

-------------------------

You sighed as you laid in bed with Tulip, spooning her as she slept fitfully. You’d come home to Charlie trying and failing to calm her down after a nightmare, then spent the whole day coddling her while Corrinne took the rest of the kids to Charlie’s house.

She’d called and said Charlie went to talk to Agent Hotchner, but you didn’t really care as you’d left a scathing curse-filled voicemail for him anyway.

You couldn’t seem to get comfortable, still feeling bloated and a bit sore after your night with Spencer. Your night together had been wonderful, but you were quickly realizing that those nights would be further and fewer in between if Tulip kept having trouble. 

You wished he were here right now, holding your hand. You were sure he’d sit on the edge of the bed and rub your shoulders, that he’d comfort Tulip the best he could… you couldn’t wait to introduce him to Charlie. He’d really like him.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you quickly rolled over to snatch it and answer. Tulip stirred as you held it up to your ear, turning to squint up at you.

“Mom?” 

“It’s okay, baby, go back to sleep,” you murmured as you heard Spencer’s voice on the other end. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” she grumbled, nuzzling back into the pillow and tugging the covers tighter over her body.

You slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind you, going to sit on the edge of the tub and put your head in your hand, “You still there?”

“Is this a bad time?” he asked softly, “I can let you go.”

“No,no,” you insisted, feeling relief just at the sound of his voice. “I’m just about to get ready for work.”

“Ahh, well we’re twinning tonight,” Spencer chuckled. You heard clothing shift on the other end, no doubt his tie slipping from his collar. “I’ve got to work tonight too. Just thought I’d hear your voice a bit before.”

“Are you okay? You sound tired.”

“Yeah, just… a long night ahead of me,” he replied quietly. “Trying to finish something up so we can have dinner this week without interruption.”

“Y’know, I still don’t know what you do, Spencer,” you realized, dread washing over you in the same instant. 

“And I don't know what you do, sweetheart,” he returned, but it was light. “All in good time, I’m sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Spencer shuffled around the room, going through drawers. “Hey, I’m trying to look casual tonight and not stuffy. Is a button up with no tie casual?”

You laughed quietly, “You got a hot date?”

He made a noise of disgruntlement, “Eh, more like a work event I’m not looking forward to. I’m just nervous, it’s not really my scene.”

“Wear some dark slacks and one of those patterned purple button ups,” you offered, “Unbutton a few at the top just for me.”

You bit your thumb as he laughed on the other end, “Okay, just for you I will.”

Your stomach churned as you sat there listening to him move around, and you let out a long sigh to try to calm it. You heard him stop, “You still feeling sick?”

“I’m okay. I’ve got five kids, Spencer, they probably gave me something.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, and you could hear his frown through the phone. “Maybe you should take the night off.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said quietly. You listened for Tulip on the other side of the door, satisfied when you heard her snoring instead. Biting your lip and eyeing the door, you whispered, “I love you, Spencer.”

He chuckled lightly, and you found yourself blushing, “I love you too. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go. I love you, stay out of trouble.”

“Never,” you replied devilishly.

He laughed once more before he hung up, leaving you alone in the bathroom. You set the phone on the sink ledge just in time for your stomach to lurch once more, and you barely got the toilet lid up in time before you emptied it into the bowl.

You tried to keep quiet as the nausea was gone just as quick as it came, staring in horror as realization washed over you. The bloating, the nausea, the sore and tender breasts… you hadn’t felt like this since…

Since you were pregnant with Poppy.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you flushed the toilet and crawled over to the sink. Opening the cabinet underneath, you dug through it until you found a familiar pink box you’d stared at four times before.

Quickly you ripped open the box and went about taking the test, sitting anxiously on the toilet as you struggled to gain enough courage to even pee on the damned stick. It took ten minutes of leg jiggling and trying to calm yourself down before you finally managed to do it.

Snatching a paper towel and setting it on the counter, you grabbed your phone and opened the screen only to be confronted by a photo of your family. You, Charlie, all five of the girls… Tulip, Daisy, Ivy and Willow, and Poppy all grinning back at you. 

Were you ready for more?

Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the thought. You didn’t know enough about Spencer to know if you were ready this quickly. He didn’t know your job, your past, all your kids’ names… he hadn’t even met Charlie yet! So much was happening so quickly and you didn’t know how prepared you were for it.

He said he wanted to marry you… but that was just talk, right?

You set your timer for three minutes, sitting with your back to the edge of the tub and trying not to stare at it. Your fingers rubbed anxiously along the strand of delicate pearls Spencer had gotten you. 

You knew Spencer would be a great dad, that he not only wanted kids but wanted the kids you had and a life with you. He would be perfect and Charlie would love him… but you hadn’t talked about so much. What would his reaction be when he found out his love was a former stripper with a sordid past? Would he leave?

You’d still have Charlie and the kids, but the thought of Spencer rejecting you brought terrified tears to your eyes. Your chin wobbled and you thought about calling Charlie, confessing your fears to your best friend and having him comfort you, but the girls needed him and Tulip needed you. 

The only real way this could be happening was if your IUD dislodged… you'd have to go get it removed and checked out. 

It felt like years before the tinkling chime echoed through the bathroom, signaling time was up. With a shaky hand, you reached up and grabbed the test from the counter.

You looked up at the ceiling, praying for good news, even though you weren’t sure what you wanted. Pulling in a shaky breath, you held it and counted to three before letting it go.

One. 

Two.

Three.

Turning the test over in your hands, your jaw dropped when you spotted two lines inside the little oval screen. The stick clattered to the floor with an earth shattering clack as you stared wide eyed at nothing at all.

It was positive.

You were pregnant with Spencer Reid’s baby.

Notes: **GASP** Sweetheart's pregnant! And Spencer's going to The Nocturne tonight... where she'll be performing... WHAT do you think is going to happen?????? Are you excited to see a night at the Nocturne?

CM Taglist:

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks  @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo 

Room 405 Taglist:

@rexorangecouny @nomajdetective @halloween-is-my-nationality @spenciesprincess @hoely-scripture @gspenc @princesssmooshie @loveeee2134 @reidslefteyebrow @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @hotchandspencearedilfs @barbietiingz @riverjane-d @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @simplyparker @thebloomingeagle @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @fangirling-galore @randomhoex @drspencerreid80 @kbakery@fortheloveofwonderland @athenabrown @yukachankyu @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @baciamisottolalucedicentostelle @athenabrown @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @elhotchner

[billthedrake]

GROUPIE

I thought he'd be nervous, but it was clear he'd done this before. I followed him into his hotel room, one of the higher-up suites with a great view of downtown. It's hard to capture just how much bigger a professional football player looks in real life. I mean, I'm tall and have a pretty good build myself, but this man was must solid beneath his tailored navy suit. And he was one of the leaner-looking quarterbacks in the league.

"Sorry... what's your name again?" he asked.

"Kevin," I replied, not in the least offended. I'd met him just a couple hours ago after his press conference. I probably wasn't supposed to ask for an autograph, but I couldn't help but take advantage of the opportunity. This pro athlete hunk had eyed me up as he scribbled out a signature, before leafing through my notepad to another page and writing his Four Seasons room number on the paper, along with "8:00."

I was there now, eight on the dot, watching the hunk take off his suit coat. He was without tie and if the tailored jacket looked great on him, the trim dress shirt was amazing in the way it foreground his hard muscle. Mr. QB was 37 and old for a pro player, I guess, but I loved the combo of his seasoned muscle and top conditioning.

"Why don't you get comfortable, Kevin?" he urged.

I nodded. I started undoing my button down and kicking off my sneakers. I'd spent a lot of my 20s closeted, whether on my lacrosse team or in my fraternity, and even after, playing the "shy," career-focused dude who couldn't get a steady girlfriend. Those years let me focus on my body, lots of lifting, lots of watching my macros, and I had a build I was proud of.

"God, you're cute," QB grinned as he untucked his shirt from his trousers and started undoing the buttons in a mirror image of my disrobing. "Don't know what it is about you sports reporter types, but you guys are always hot fuckers."

Coming from this man, it was a hell of a compliment. "Well, I'm a huge fan," I gushed, then regretted not playing it cooler.

Thankfully, QB laughed as he removed his brown leather shoes. "Is that right?"

I blushed but nodded, undoing my trousers. "Um... you do this often?" I asked.

QB didn't miss a beat. "With guys as hot as you in every city... what do you think?"

"That's cool," I answered, glad to be part of the special club. "Don't worry, I'm discreet."

QB nodded his acknowledgment of the fact, then shucked his trousers down. Holy fuck, even through his boxer briefs I could see a hard heavy dong that was considerable in length. As I scrambled to catch up in the disrobing, he pulled that underwear down, too, and let that long dick swing up and out. Kicking the briefs off, he sat down in the hotel chair, spread his legs, and watched me strip for him.

The man had 8 years on me, and a hell of a lot of fame and athletic success. And I was starstruck as hell. But in a weird way we felt almost like we were coming together as equals, two horny men in our prime wanting to get off.

I felt my own dick get rock hard as I walked over to him, QB's eyes eating me up. His hands ran up my outer thighs and his touch made my cock get over its nervous jitters and stand up straight.

QB laughed. "You got a well-trained puppy there," he hissed.

"Yeah," I said dumbly. I wasn't even sure how this was gonna play out, but the athlete seemed focused on my regular-sized cock. This guy may outsize me, all over, but I still liked my dick. It was a good looking dick, meaty and symmetrical and steel hard. QB was into it, for sure.

“Don't cum too soon,” he ordered then leaned in and started going down on me. I almost didn't follow his instructions. I mean, I almost couldn't. His mouth was silky smooth, with just the right amount of suction, and some amazing stimulation from his tongue as he worked me up and down. But mostly it was the mindblowing idea I had an NFL star giving me head.

I stood, posture erect, hands down by my side, not daring to touch the man. Until I got up the courage and started running my fingers through his hair. Softly, encouraging him. I was thrilled to see that turned him on. QB moaned around my cock and started bobbing a good inch further down toward the root. It was incredible.

My toes started curling, and I think QB had a good sense I was about to nut. With a slurp he pulled off and blew some air playfully onto my twitching erection.

"You like that?" he teased in a sexy version of the voice I'd heard in so many press conferences and interviews.

"Fuck yeah," I growled. "Don't take this the wrong way, man, but you're an incredible cocksucker." I was being bold, but that was a sign I was relaxing into the scene.

QB winked and patted my outer thigh. "Turn around, dude."

I did as instructed and felt two very strong quarterback hands feeling up my thighs, my hamstrings and my gluteal muscle. I was very thankful of my gym dedication at that moment, because QB just massaged my buns and growled, "That ass is off the hook. man."

I flexed my glutes a little, teasing him some. He felt me up some more then leaned in and buried his face right into my cleft. I knew what he was after of course, so I parted my legs some and leaned forward to braced my upper body on my quads.

QB had full access to my hole now and he ate it like a pro. Deep tonguing, and a hell of a lot of round-the-rim teasing. He was fevered and unpredictable as he ate me out, and he just kept fucking going. Even to this date, that was hands down the best rimming I've ever experienced.

It went on for a while, but like a hungry man who gets his fill at a buffet, QB stopped eating at last. He pulled back and smacked my buns. "Get on the bed, man, I gotta fuck this."

Normally, I wasn't into dudes ordering me around like cavemen, but QB could do whatever he damn pleased. I was rock hard as I stood fully up and strutted over to the bed. I looked over, seeking instruction. This star athlete was running the show.

QB was lubing up his cock now. It wasn't massive, but it was big fucking tool. Thick, meaty, and long, with two heavy testicles hanging an inch beneath the stalk. I was glad then I wasn't virgin, but I instinctively knew QB had broken in more than his fair share of cherries. For some reason that idea made me very turned on.

"On your belly," he said, voice normal, not commanding. "I like a lot of foreplay but when I fuck I get off real quick." From his tone, I couldn't tell if he was warning me or seeing if I was OK with this. Whatever, I got on the mattress and stretched out, belly down and ass up.

I felt the bed sink a little as 225 pounds got in place behind me, pushing my legs apart some. His lubey hands kneaded my buns some more, just for a few seconds, then he stretched his athletic body on top of mine.

I felt his kisses along my neck, then the nudging feeling of him guiding his cock into my crack. He was good at this, real good, and his experienced in dicking groupies showed. I felt that greasy-slick cock penetrate me.

"Unnngh!" I let out in a soft, choked cry. I wanted to take this man like a trooper, but I didn't bottom all that much.

"Easy, buddy, you got this..." he cooed. His hands playfully massaged my forearms and his kisses along my neck turned to playfully sexual licking before he asked, "you done this before?"

"Yeah," I replied. God, I'm normally not submissive, but I wanted to be QB's best fuck. "But it's been a while."

"I can tell, man," QB growled, his hips now doing this micro-thrust thing that was working me right the fuck open. "Hot, tight frat boy ass."

He was halfway on the mark, and for the rest I'd be whatever QB's fantasy fuck was. Especially now that his multimillion-dollar cock was boring me in soft but deep thrusts. Now fucking me.

"Shit, you fucking frat guys are the best goddamn lays," he hissed, now getting real into. "I love nailing your horny asses."

I gripped the sheets. QB wasn't kidding. He'd gone from the gentle working-me-open part of the fuck to pounding me into the sheets. The mattress bounced in time and I felt his hard athletic body, covering me tightly, thrusting into me. There was some discomfort which kept the cum from being pushed out of me, but my prostate was also loving this more than I expected, and each shove interacted with the star struck lust in my brain.

"Oh shit!" I heard in my ear and then felt a frantic energy to the pro athlete body on top of me. QB wasn't lying. He didn't last long in an ass. I felt his cock pulse, combined with some harder thrusts that seemed intent on planting his seed as deep up me as possible.

That orgasm lasted maybe ten seconds and like that I felt the hotel-room cool on my back as QB rolled off me, fully sated.

I slowly raised my head and looked over at him. He had a kid-like smile on his face. "That was incredible man," he said. Then, "you need to get off?"

I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but I did. So I nodded and rolled onto my side.

QB reached over and then quirted some lube on my cock. He started at me and I knew he expected me to jerk off. Normally, I'd crave more. A blow job, a kiss, or something. But I had 6-foot-4 of professional baller in bed with me, and I knew it wouldn't take long to get off just looking at him and masturbating.

And it didn't. Especially not when he scooted his naked body closer and reached around to cup my ass, digging into the cleft.

"You got a Pro Bowler's cum in ya, buddy," he growled as his digit rooted around the cummy mess in my crack. "I dumped a good one in ya."

His naughty words had me firing, right onto his furry torso. It was a crazy deep orgasm, too, and QB laughed some at the intensity

QB now had a relaxed, content look on his face as he looked over at me and patted my bare thigh. "I'm afraid I don't have guys stay the night," he said simply. "No offense, stud."

I guess the afterglow was over. "None taken," I assured him. "That was amazing," I said as I scooted out of bed and went to find my underwear. I could clean off when I got home.

As I got dressed, I watched his tall, athletic body walk to the bathroom to piss and rinse off. I was just getting my shoes on when he came out, that magnificent body damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

I could read on his face that he was ready for me to leave. He'd gotten what he wanted. Then again, I had, too. I'd actually made it with a pro athlete, and I knew I'd be reliving this evening in my head for many future stroke sessions.

"All right," I said, standing up and nervously patting my pockets to make sure I had everything. "I'm off."

"Take care," he flashed with a winning grin. God, I'd never be able to look at QB the same way again.

It took some willpower to avert my eyes from his half-naked body as he went to check and scroll through his phone, but I left him and left the hotel room, letting the heavy door shut behind me.

The hallway was cool and smelled like some aromatherapy scent, a contrast to the masculine smell of QB I'd just experienced up close. I shook my head and actually laughed, unbelieving that this just happened. I was dying to tell someone, my buddies, anyone, but I promised to be discreet.

I walked down toward the elevator and saw a man approaching me. A little older, maybe mid to late 30s. Thinning hair, normal married-suburban looks, it was only when he got closer that I could tell he was actually rocking a pretty jacked body beneath his sweatshirt and faded jeans. As he was walking toward me he seemed to be checking his phone and looking up at the room numbers.

"Hey," he acknowledged as we saw me right before we passed each other.

"Hi," I mumbled but already the man was walking onward, on a mission. Fuck, he wasn't going where I thought he was, was he?

He was. I stopped right before the elevator bank and looked back. There was that Suburban Fan, standing in a nervous stance before knocking on the room door.

"Hey, man," came his surprisingly deep voice as the door opened.

"Hi, buddy," I could hear QB say. "Come on in."

[raineandsky]

#39

Contrary to popular belief, being a court jester has more perks than one would assume.

It’s a simple job, really. Easy to do. You just have to know how to juggle and make crude jokes on the spot and that’s about all it takes to get into the royal palace.

Anytime he’s not entertaining or sleeping off such he’s exploring. There’s a calm—and use—in figuring out the twists and turns of the corridors, the views from the windows, the hidden corners that no one else seems to know exists.

Today is about as normal as the rest of them. The jester is ushered up horrendously early, dressed in his frankly embarrassing entertainment clothes, and dumped at a crude kitchen table with a bowl of whatever slop has been made this morning. Not even twenty minutes after greeting the waking world he’s trekking through the halls and shoving the doors open to the king’s conference room.

“Bless the gods of good humour for your existence,” is the greeting the king gives him. It’s a new one, that’s for sure. The general is standing next to him, looking as dour as always at his entrance, and for a moment the jester questions whether he read the call for entertainment right.

“I’m unsure if my existence warrants a blessing for those already blessed, my liege,” the jester says lightly, and the king positively roars with laughter. It barely deserves a pity laugh in his mind, but he’s learnt the intricacies of the king’s humour in his time here. What the jester thinks is funny doesn’t even see the light of day when he’s working.

“Close the door, my boy, these are private matters.” The jester isn’t exactly sure whether he means to shut them on the way out, but after a moment the king adds: “I could do with something a little lighthearted in a moment like this.”

His general frowns worriedly as the king sinks into his throne with a content sigh. “With all due respect, my liege—” which the jester has learnt means ‘I’m about to insult your god-given authority’ “—you are right, these are private matters. I’m unsure if an audience is a good idea.”

The king waves him off idly. “The boy is hilarious, and in times like these a little fun never hurt anyone. I could use a good mockery of the little brats on our borders, anyway.”

The jester glances at the general with the hopes of conveying the question of ‘what?’, but all he gets is blanked. “My liege—”

“The supposed queen is bringing forces to my walls, general.” The king leans back in his chair, his eyes perusing a map splayed out on the table. “What do you suggest we do?”

The general’s gaze finally flits to the jester, but the boy’s question has already been answered. His eyes are locked to the map instead, staring at the little wooden soldiers circling the kingdom. “From what I can see, they’re aiming to cut off our entrances,” the general says after a moment of deliberation pointed blatantly at the jester. “Anywhere they’re not doing this, there’s been sightings of catapults. They’re going to bring this city down if they can.”

“So?”

“So…” His stare casts onto the map as well, stepping forwards to shift some of the figures about. “We catch them early. There’s an exit they don’t seem to have noticed in the North—if we can beat them to our walls we have the element of surprise and the advantage of not bringing the fight to civilians.”

“I like that idea, general. Has the queen been sighted with her men?”

“Not that I’ve heard, my liege. Most likely she’s hiding in her own kingdom.”

This has all been too much of a shitshow to comprehend, let alone make fun of, and all the jester can think to say is; “what a coward.”

The king glances at him like he just remembered he’s there, but he chuckles regardless. “Indeed. We have the advantage of fear if we know this. We can strike her while they’re busy trying to destroy us.”

“And once they get news of their own kingdom being attacked, they’ll no doubt retreat,” the general adds, and the king gives him a hearty slap on the back that would probably topple anyone else. “We have a plan. We split our forces—some to hold the fort here, and some to destroy their army from the top of the food chain.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

The general and the king frankly look a little incensed at the jester’s input. Shit. It wasn’t meant to come out, but he’s already here, he supposes. “They’re sending their entire army to us,” he continues. There’s a loop on his belt at hand level that’s suddenly getting a lot of love with the rising anxiety of talking out of line. “Shouldn’t we focus on defending ourselves first? If we split, she’s already won.”

“Do you suddenly understand the strategies of war, jester?” the general spits. “I can’t say you’re particularly humorous today.”

“I agree,” the king says, and his tone is that of a business deal. “Thank you for your time, boy. You’re excused.”

He would say something else, but the glares he’s getting are enough to get him executed. So he bows to the king, calmly lets himself out, and bolts.

He comes across one of the cooks when he bursts into the kitchen, who looks a little startled to see him. “Jesus, did you run here or something?” she asks over his haggard panting, and she sighs when he manages to give her the slightest nod.

“Get… get someone else to… take over this,” the jester says between desperate breaths. “We have to go. There’s– there’s horses in the stables that we could probably take–”

“Slow down, kid,” the cook interjects quickly. “Is something going on? Did someone find out?”

“We have to tell the queen to retreat. There’s a secret exit that they want to use to catch her forces by surprise, and the king wants to kill her while she's separated from her defences. I– I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but… oh god, we don’t stand a chance.”

The cook has taken to staring into the distance in thought, before she suddenly abandons her pot on the table with a hearty clunk. “Grab the horses. The army’s still a few days away from here—we can beat them to it if we run.”

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Hellsing Rewatch: Episode Two Thoughts

(Picking this up a full year later)

Why is Van Helsing German 😭 In the novel he also throws in random German phrases. Sir you are Dutch??

Forever a funny choice to give Alucard a black coat in the flashback and Van Helsing the red coat. Alucard wants to be him so bad

Love that Van Helsing looks like an amalgamation of Integra (eye color), Arthur (the hair), and Anderson (the general shape of the lower half of his face

We went off topic for a bit thinking about a btvs and Hellsing crossover, and how much Integra and Buffy would dislike each other. Also my one and only Hellsing face cast opinion is that Seras would look like a young Sarah Michelle Gellar so that would be funny. Also the entire Zorin fight would be so so devastating to see her act out.

Joshua!!!!

The way the front of the Hellsing estate looks so dry and withered. I like to think that’s Alucard’s impact.

Jan is so annoying jesus

Is… is the mist in the Hellsing hallway always there?

How exactly does Integra guess that they have a security leak? Anyway rip rip her going from “We have a security leak” to talking to Walter in the same breath

Or like the spears in the painting, is that just a trap they always have set up? How many soldiers and like random staff have these people accidentally killed because the manor is so full of dumb traps

There are SO MANY paintings in the hallways. Integra will not furnish her home but by god she will decorate the walls.

Jesus even in the conference room. I wonder how much tax evasion is happening with those paintings

“I don’t know who armed and trained these creatures” SURE YOU DON’T WALTER

Luke choosing to dramatically break down the door instead of just… opening it?

Rip Alucard just sitting in the dark like a fucking weirdo.

The way he has NOTHING in his gloomy ass basement room. Just a single chair and a tiny side table. He truly gets no enrichment in his enclosure. No wonder he’s so unwell

WALTER CUM DORNEZ

Walter is basically just evil Giles, yes?

I forgot how horny this show is for guns holy shit

The falling wine glass is a very fun visual to highlight how quickly they draw and shoot their respective weapons

LOLLL Alucard laughing and the Luke starting up a couple seconds later because he doesn’t want to be left out

::shuddering:: Jan’s arm comes off so easily

Still really pissed that they took out the “Welcome to Hellsing”

Alucard’s so gross 💖💖💖 all the centipedes and the eyes and the baby screaming sound effects!!!

It’s also genuinely such a fun choice to have his head and hands fall away like that, it really gives the impression that they’re like just for show.

He’s so excited to be fighting with someone, and then like so genuinely mad and disappointed when Luke isn’t up to par lmao

The way he keeps calling Luke a punk in the subtitle translation 😭😭

Love that he apparently knows that the rest of the gang are struggling against Jan upstairs but he still chooses to do nothing

The cooldown hug 💖💖💖

I like to think that Walter is so defensive of Islands blaming Integra for everyone in the manor dying (lmao) because it was his fault. He’s like hey she couldn’t have foreseen this!

I do think it’s still absolutely ludicrous that no one survived sjdjdhdfs

The way Integra’s never fucking heard of Star Wars. God I wish that were me

[whumblr]

was reading drive and GOD dennis is that one friend everyone needs. i love that dennis is so compassionate and silent in his own way when it comes to jay talking out his own unprocessed trauma

i really wanna see more of such instances, just a 'lore drop' for dennis and how it works between them, pls give us more when u have the time 🙏

now im thinking, jay repeated twice that 'it was horrible', how did he look to dennis at that point of time? like im picturing jay just pretty distant, maybe even half dissociating through it

sometimes my heart really breaks for jay ngl, super strong mentally

Jay is pretty distant when he tells these things, yeah. He doesn't make eye contact, he just looked down at his coffe, drawn into his memories of the event. Have some more lore drop :))

-

"What's this?"

Dennis waved a hand in front of Jay's abdomen, pointing at something as they both spread out their laptops in the small conference room.

Jay glanced down, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, looking for a stain or— His heart skipped a beat.

Two little pinpricks blinked in his shirt, the white of his undershirt underneath stark against the dark blue, like two stars in the night sky.

Oh shit. Shit! He'd just tossed that shirt onto his laundry pile after Zayne had jabbed those holes into it, jabbed burns onto his body. His skin tingled underneath, still red and sensitive and, luckily, hidden. With the aftermath of the cattle prod incident, he'd completely forgot about the barely noticeable pricks.

"Nothing," he bleated out, too fast, effectively betraying himself with the single word. Why couldn't he just play it cool with a 'huh...' and leave it at that?!

Dennis glanced up, his hands planted on the table leaning over his laptop, waiting for it to boot. He looked again at the two tiny holes in Jay's shirt, and Jay could see him put two and two together. Suspicion clear to see on his face, he looked Jay in the eyes a beat longer than was comfortable. But then his gaze dropped, his attention back on his laptop and he just said, "Okay". He pulled out a chair, sat down, and didn't say any more.

Jay hesitated. He could interpret this as Dennis realising he had unintentionally breached a topic he hadn't meant to, now wanting to back out, unwilling to pry. But Dennis, unlike Jay, didn't seem uncomfortable and the silence between them was tense. Which Jay, of course, fully interpreted as a silent way to call him out on his lying bullshit... He sighed and pulled up a chair as well.

"Zayne sometimes had his experimental moods," he said, casually, typing in his password on his own laptop.

He waited for some sort of 'I literally didn't ask, man', but that break didn't come.

Dennis glanced at the pinpricks again. "Like with the noose?"

"Like wi— yeah."

"I'm guessing it didn't involve acupuncture?"

Jay gave a wry smile, not really sure if he wanted Zayne to pick up acupuncture... "Actually these are burn holes."

Dennis’ brow furrowed in confusion.

“From…” Jay stopped again, wondering which explanation would flare up Dennis the least; taser or electric shock. He didn’t even consider the words ‘cattle prod’. “They’re from a taser…” he settled on, eyes on his laptop.

He heard Dennis take a deep, sharp inhale. A curse under his breath. Then a longer, calmer exhale.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay looked up, flustered, finding Dennis’ eyes already on him. “Don’t—”

“I’m sorry you had to… experience that.”

The soft words completely caught him off guard. He swallowed hard and looked away again, feeling tears prickle behind his eyes.

“Yeah… me too.” He wanted to reassure his friend, words like ‘it wasn’t that bad’ immediately bubbling up in his brain. But memories of the event, of both electrical events, forced its way up as well, reminding him cruelly of the truth: it was bad. “I thought I could handle it… just a ‘bam, you’re out’. Y’know, like in the movies. But that didn’t happen… it just burned.”

He mixed the two electric events together. The taser had felt wildly different from the prod, more paralysing, while the cattle prod were 'just' quick little zaps. While he felt more calm sharing these things now that Den already had a basic understanding of what happened to him, he didn't want to go into too much detail.

Unlike Jay, Dennis didn’t hide behind his laptop; he listened, to more than just Jay’s stuttered words, he paid attention. And while it was… uncomfortable, to constantly feel his gaze – not yet meet his gaze – Jay also felt grateful having him so attentive. Having him care. Too deeply, really… It was a double-edged blade. For both of them. Telling this stuff hurt. Hearing this stuff hurt. Both unable to protect the other like they wanted. But hiding it… eventually just made things worse.

Dennis nodded, leaving a silence for Jay in case he wanted to tell more. He didn’t of course. Then he pulled up the protected files they had on Emery and Zayne and said: “Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Jay smiled, having no clue what was going to be waiting for him that evening. “Yeah… let’s.”

-

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