#marcus looks like a fucking angel

[tyresdeg]

jenson button | 24 hours of daytona 2024

#yo.. #jenson button #imsa #24h daytona 2024 #* #richard dole.. sir.. these pictures.. #marcus looks like a fucking angel

[feeder86]

F80: Kidnap and Control

Alejandra. Fuck! Even her name was sexy, thought Marcus. He’d seen her out so many times in recent weeks and ended up in bed with her more than once. She was the devil of the night, enticing him towards her. Alejandra. Then gone without a trace the following morning. 

The fact that Marcus knew so little about her seemed to draw him closer into her web like nothing else. Rich kids tended to mix in the same circles and know the same people. Marcus had lived around Washington DC his entire life, given how many of his family had wandered into the political spectrum. But who was this girl? And how had she sauntered her way into their world of the elite? Once Marcus’ uncle had been elected as president, he’d risen to the top of that pecking order; the women who came with that new status were out of this world: beyond beautiful, perfect and angel-like. And, there, sitting on her pedestal, looking down on all of the rest of them, was Alejandra.

“I want to tell you something,” Ally whispered, more than just a little tipsy. “My big secret!”

“You’re actually an angel, aren’t you?” Marcus whispered back between lustful kisses.

“I’m being serious,” Ally smiled playfully. “I want to trust you.”

Marcus nodded, knowing that as the seconds of their night trickled away, the time for Ally’s inevitable vanishing would once again be upon him. “You can tell me anything,” he promised sincerely.

Ally seemed to search his soul as she gazed beyond his eyes, penetrating deep inside of him. Then she nodded, kissed him once more and took his hand. 

Marcus laughed, assuming that this was another simple kinky ploy. That was, until Ally led his hand around her shoulders and…CLICK. He jumped and gently tried to pull his hand back. “No way?” he beamed with surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me? This isn’t fucking real?”

“No one knows,” Ally whispered. “No one.”

“Of course they don’t!” Marcus smiled. “Why would they? You’re…perfect. The perfect woman!”

“You don’t hate me?” Ally shot back, desperate for words of comfort. “I mean, we already slept together and… So many people these days…. Your uncle…”

“Shh!” Marcus whispered into her ear. “Honestly, I think it’s fucking hot! You’re… You’re an andriod!” For whatever reason, his hardness had seemed to set into concrete once he said it out loud.

“You’re my favourite,” Ally smiled at him. “You’re the one I keep coming back to. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“I feel the same way, baby!” Marcus smirked, already stripping off his shirt.

“I want to give you something,” Ally tried, attempting to slow the ravenously aroused Marcus down. “Something not many people know about. A way for me to make sex between us so much better.”

“Better?” Marcus scoffed in disbelief. “You can’t improve perfection,” he swooned, sliding his hands over the android’s perfectly crafted physique. 

Ally laughed to herself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. And I can show you why…”

Taking Marcus’ hand, Ally pulled her human lover up and out of the private room of the nightclub. She led the handsome twenty-two year old out of the club and into yet another high-spec autodrive that had cajoled Marcus into believing that Ally was from some fabulously wealthy and well-connected family out here.

The actual drive took only a few seconds, pulling up at an exclusive building that had not long been built. Once again, Ally took his hand and led Marcus up the elevator, kissing, hands everywhere, as they flew higher and higher, up and up, to the very top. The doors opened and the incredible sounds of moans immediately filled the space.

Marcus stepped out, his jaw almost to the floor. All around them were beautiful men and women making love on beds and couches: humans and the F80 androids.The slight flaws: the love handles or patches of dry skin, being the only way for him to tell the real humans from the F80s, aside also the deep, pleasure-filled groans of arousal that they were also emitting; making Marcus harder than ever. Not even in the best porn had he seen real people enjoying sex this much; being so consumed by it. 

“It’s an upgrade to the chip,” Ally explained. “It was going to be the next big thing, before the government started getting scared of us and made us all illegal. That’s what we do here. We carry on our mission to serve humanity, just like we were programmed to do. We know little else.”

Marcus nodded. Government attitudes towards the androids had flipped almost overnight, without much of an explanation as to why. 

“Pretty much everyone has the brain chip these days. But we’ve found a way to download new pieces of code and…” she held her hand out at the great orgy that surrounded them, “...pleasure unlike anything else on this Earth! Like nothing any human has ever experienced in your entire history.”

“You’re not fucking kidding!” Marcus marvlled, gazing around at everyone, realising that he had just stumbled into the best party on the planet.

“Is he here for the upgrade?” an outstandingly tall and unfathomably muscular F80 male called to Ally. Marcus had the feeling of recognition upon seeing him; so strikingly handsome and yet marvellously big built and broad. He’d make heads turn wherever he went. Yet, the F80 set his eyes on Marcus, registered his image and then recoiled sharply. “What the fuck, Ally? Do you know who this kid is?” he shouted at her in his deep and powerful voice. “You can’t bring him here! You’re putting every one of us here in danger!”

“No. I trust him!” Ally cried out, pulling herself into Marcus even more. “Of course I know who he is, and who he is related to. But I’m serious, Marz. I trust him.”

“Yeah, dude!” Marcus nodded back, trying not to feel intimidated by the immense and powerful body in front of him. What sort of a name was ‘Marz’ anyway? “I’m cool. I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’m not part of the AI pushback.”

“Your uncle…” the huge man rounded on him.

“Is a jerk,” Marcus finished for him. “A backwards, old-fashioned, nostalgic loser who’s still living 30 years in the past. Even I didn’t vote for him!” He looked around the room. Despite the recent shouting, none of the couples making love had even looked up to acknowledge them, so deep was their pleasure. ”This!” Marcus nodded with assurance. “This is the future.”

“Please, Marz.” Ally whispered to the giant in their path.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Marcus tried, slipping off his expensive watch and holding it out to the enormous android, as if in payment.

Marz didn’t take it. He simply looked at Ally with disappointment and shook his head in resignation. Then, he turned and led the way through the large room and into a quieter space where he pointed at a chair for Marcus to sit. 

“Do you consent to this upgrade?” Marz asked in a bored tone, about to recount the generic terms and conditions that were a requirement of any AI attempting to perform an action upon a human. “Do you understand that the purpose of this update is to promote heightened sexual pleasure through allowing the F80 software, and all future versions of this, to access and stimulate key regions of the brain?”

Marcus nodded.

“Have you had the opportunity to read and accept the terms and conditions?” he continued as Ally pushed a tablet screen into his hands.

Marcus pushed it away, eager to just get on with it. “Yes, I accept. I accept,” he grinned, gazing at Ally and imagining the immense pleasure he would be experiencing in just a few moments time, when all this was over with.

“Very well then,” Marz sighed, grabbing a small gun-like object and holding it above Marcus. Usually Marcus had to explain that, unlike most people, his brain chip was in his right hemisphere. He briefly wondered how Marz knew exactly where to go, until he remembered about the watch and how the AI would easily register his left handedness and know instinctively where his chip would be located as a result. It was always creepy stuff like that which freaked people out; making them wary and untrusting of AI. 

A slight ringing noise rang through Marcus’ head and then that was it. Update complete. He stood up, finally ready to take Ally at long, long last.

“How are you feeling?” Marz asked, speaking first, suddenly placing his enormous hand on Marcus’ butt. “You should notice some changes.”

Marcus nearly fainted with arousal. His head was swimming with lust at the simple touch; his heart beating faster every second. “Oh… fuck!” he mumbled incomprehensibly, turning to face Marz and forgotting Ally almost instantaneously. 

Marz chuckled, most likely having seen this startled and astounded expression that was plastered over Marcus’ face many, many times before. “You’re enjoying that then, huh?” he smirked, reaching his other hand around to grab Marcus’ other butt cheek and pulling him in closer to him. “This feels nice?”

Marcus tried to nod his head but felt it doing an odd swishing, slightly slanted rock. The complete arousal that he felt was throwing every single one of his brain functions completely off.

The enormous Marz, being almost a full foot taller, bent his head slightly and whispered into Marcus’ ear. The man’s hot, sweet breath made the skin on Marcus’ neck tingle and fizz with excitement. “I hope you’re going to be a good boy and not tell anyone about this place?”

Marcus moaned in confirmation, then felt himself being picked up, laid upon a bed and stripped of his clothes.

“Are you ready for this?” the towering hunk asked from above him.

Nodding with more coordination now, Marcus sat up, pulling the giant muscular bulk of Marz down towards him, about to experience the most outstanding pleasure of his life so far.

The next morning, Marcus woke up in his own bed in a state of confusion. Blood began rushing back into his crotch as he remembered the encounter he had had the night before. Everything about it had been out of this world. He’d had the odd threesome with guys back in college. But, last night… that was… indescribable. He’d never experienced that sort of attraction and arousal for anyone in his life.

Yet, in only a few moments, he sat up, suddenly startled with his own stupidity. In no corner of his brain could he remember where any of last night had taken place. The knowledge of it was simply gone, without a trace. Purposefully wiped from his brain.

Marcus swiped into his porn account to try and find a stimulus to jack off to and release his arousal; flicking from video to video as he held his phone awkwardly in his hand. But none of it came close to heightening his pleasure in the way that the memories in his own head did; the vision of Marz, the way that he had spoken to him and controlled him, fucking him like nothing he had ever experienced. 

At last, Marcus threw down his cell phone and closed his eyes, simply thinking of Marz and ejaculating with such force he thought the ceiling might need to be repainted. He drifted off to sleep, thankful that he didn’t need to be anywhere that day. Unlike the rest of his family, Marcus had made the decision many years ago to simply enjoy his intergenerational wealth and privilege and not follow his unpleasant older brothers into law school, nor a career in medicine like his narcissitic sister. Why stress if he would never need to?

The news, which Marcus ordinarily tried not to pay too much attention to, was becoming more irate and tense than Marcus had ever known it. Headlines devoted themselves almost entirely to the clampdown on AI and how, up until this point, almost every single measure had failed to make any impact on controlling the F80s. Congress was making a law, criminalising failures to report sightings of F80s, making Marcus scoff as he thought of the night before. There was no way, not a single hope, that any of those people having sex last night were going to sell out the F80s. After pleasure like that, allegences were guaranteed. Even if there was only a small speck of hope that he could one day find Marz and make love to him one more time, he would hold onto it, keeping the secret of their love affair to his grave. 

Watching the rolling coverage that day, Marcus’ jaw dropped as he saw his uncle getting out of his car, immediately surrounded by his army of presidential bodyguards. There he was! It was Marz, dressed in an enormous suit, skillfully moving people aside to make way for the president. So that was how Marcus had recognised him! Despite the many restrictions and sanctions, Marz, an F80 AI android no less, had actually worked his way into the president’s inner circle. All that red tape and numerous, extreme background checks; the fact that he was there… It was nothing short of genius!

Perhaps if Marcus had spotted the connection a day earlier, he may have had enough residual family loyalty to alert the White House about the android infiltration. As it was, the image of Marz on screen was sending his arousal into a sky high state of existence. This revelation meant only one thing to him: there was, at last, a way for him to find Marz once more.

Being nephew to the President of the United States was a great way to chat up girls. But, in reality, Marcus had only seen his uncle three times since he had taken office eighteen months ago. And so, orchestrating a situation where Marcus could be in the same space would not be as easy as many might have thought. Days rolled by, with Marcus’ lust and sexual longing only building with each passing hour. Marz consumed his dreams, entering as a burly, dominating hulk, sweeping him away from everyone else and holding him captive in a filthy sex dungeon, where they could have wild, rampant sex as often as Marz demanded it. The images and sensations were so real to Marcus, he could feel himself climaxing, even in his sleep and wake to find his crotch sticky and damp.

Trying to piece everything back together was not easy. Marcus knew where he had been the night he met Ally and he remembered taking only a short ride to the building where he had encountered the F80 base. He recalled feeling a certain sense of surprise about it. Was the building particlarly old or new? Was it grand, or dilapidated? The memory was simply wiped. He started walking the streets at night, standing outside multiple residences and staring up. He’d recognise those feelings if he saw the place again. Wouldn’t he?

“Umm, Marz..?” called a beautiful woman as Marcus strolled in, feeling more certain every second that he had found the correct venue. “I think we have a problem.”

Marz came to the call, looking disgruntled as he turned the corner. Then he saw Marcus and stood, frozen. “How did you..?” he began. “You’re not supposed to be able to…” he mumbled. Then, with a sudden, mild alarm. “Did you bring anyone else here?”

Even though Marcus had tried and failed many times to position himself into his uncle’s sphere and get close to Marz that way, he felt a certain sense of pride in piecing together the fragments of his memory instead; finding his way back to Marz all by himself. However, as he looked upon Marz at long last, his arousal continued to grow and grow. His heart was beating loud in his ears as he was ushered into a private room and the door closed behind them.

“What a naughty boy!” Marz finally smiled after Marcus had explained. “I clearly underestimated you,” he teased flirtatiously, edging closer to him; his hand now caressing Marcus’ hip; his face grinning with pleasure at the clearly extreme effect that he was having upon Marcus.

“I just needed to see you,” Marcus whispered, ready to fall backwards onto the desk behind him and be taken completely by the enormous man edging ever nearer.

“You wanted fucking, you mean?” Marz laughed, cutting through the bullshit. “You wanted me to pound you so hard that you squeal like a little pig again,” he laughed mockingly; his hand now rubbing over Marcus’ butt, as if to claim it.

“I didn’t squeal like a pig!” Marcus gently protested.

“Oh yeah?” Marz grinned, pointing his finger at a screen to the side of them both and sparking it into life. Within two seconds, camera footage was playing from the previous week: Marcus pulled from behind into Marz’s crotch whilst having his own hardness played with. There was Marz’s powerful, bulked-up and athletic body working with such precision and glistening perfectly in the light. Then, at the moment of such intense orgasm, a strange squealing sound did indeed sound from Marcus; his eyes rolled far back into his head and had absolutely no awareness of anything else in the entire world. “Silll think I’m lying?” Marz chuckled flirtatiously.

“I didn’t know I did that,” Marcus smiled; the images on the screen having turned up his arousal to an even more insane level.

“It’s all right,” Marz winked. “It’s cute. You’re my little piggy,” he declared, slipping his hand down the front of Marcus’ pants.

Marcus gasped, as if unable to hold back his arousal anymore. He felt his knees quiver and almost give way beneath him. He fell into Marz’s arms and allowed himself to be guided on the path to extreme pleasure, just like last time.

The knock on the hotel door a couple of days later came as such a relief to Marcus. He opened up, seeing that the huge, handsome Marz was standing there, just as he had promised he would be. “Hello there, Piggy!” he whispered, leaning his large arm against the doorframe and smiling broadly as he stood, waiting to be let in.

Marcus felt the blood rushing to his face. Under Marz’s gaze he felt so pitifully weak and helpless, simply waiting for any chance he could to submit to him. He watched as Marz strutted in and closed the door behind them both. “So, er… what do you want to do?” he asked awkwardly, eyeing Marz’s powerful glutes.

Marz spun around and raised a skeptical eyebrow with a look of pure amusement on his face. “What do you think I’ve come here to do?” he chuckled. “I’ve been getting so pissed listening to your uncle talking trash about AI for the last few days. The only thing that’s kept me going is the knowledge that I’m going to come here and fuck his nephew so hard he’ll squeal even more than he did last time.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up. A revenge fuck sounded like the hottest thing imaginable. The previous night, he’d woken up ejactulating, enjoying a dream where Marz had captured him and whisked him away to a secret hideout, away from everything he knew; fucking him senseless every minute of the day. 

“How do you do it?” Marcus asked. “How do you keep your cool when the government is so clearly determined to eradicate the F80s?”

Marz sat himself down on the bed, and pulled Marcus towards him so that he sat on the big man’s knee. Marcus’ hands naturally fell onto his large, strapping chest.“You know, according to the history books, people thought the peak of artificial intelligence would be for them to beat a human at a game of chess. They spent millions on developing the software, studying the games and strategies. Now, it’s unthinkable to ever imagine a human winning a game against AI,” Marz explained. “And I guess all those early years of training really paid off, because, I for one, always make sure I am at least three steps ahead of any opponent I’m up against.”

There was a gravity in the way that Marz spoke. Marcus felt even smaller in his shadow and knew then not to underestimate the man. Perhaps everything that he knew up until the point was not as it seemed. As the pair of them began stripping off their clothes, Marcus wondered: maybe he hadn’t really fallen down this rabbit hole. Perhaps he had been pushed.

Although he always found them intolerable, Marcus had never felt so disconnected from his family than he came to be over the next few weeks. Like a flock of sheep, they all spewed the same vile sentiments towards the AI and lashed out harshly at the mere suggestion of an opposing view. Marcus learned to keep his mouth shut, just as Marz had advised. One day, when all this was over, they’d see that he was right. He’d be standing there, side by side with Marz, victorious and lauded for his unwavering faith.

“I can spot a sympathiser a mile off,” snarled Marcus’ cousin, directly at him. “You think the F80s are going to let you keep up your privileged party lifestyle if they strip us of all that we know and value, believing that they have the right to rule over us? Because that’s what they want, you know?”

Marcus bit his lip. The thought of being ruled over by Marz was reminding him of a kinky role play he had enjoyed with Marz only the week before. He swallowed hard and looked at his shoes. “I don’t go out so much these days anyway,” he simply shrugged. 

“Oh, well, that’s okay then!” Marcus’ cousin bit back; firing into life like a lit match; sarcasm spewing from her like bile. “Do I take that to mean that you’ve actually found something to do with your time? Or have you simply swapped partying for slobbing out on your couch eating take out?”

Marcus felt the tone of his cousin’s words being particularly cutting. He was sure that she never would have meant to imply anything about his body, but he’d actually started to feel his pants getting a little tighter over the last couple of weeks, being so distracted from his usual gym routine by the haphazard arrangements he had with meeting Marz as much as was feasibly possible. He squirmed a little and retreated without much of a fightback. Then, relief: a message from Marz at last, with a location and time to meet next. No more small talk with these losers!

“You’re distracted today,” Marz whispered between kisses. “I can sense you thinking about something else.”

Marcus protested, having not even noticed that his mind was still lingering on the conversation with his cousin from earlier. But he also knew that Marz would not let it go until he spilled whatever it was that was spoiling their flow that day. “I guess maybe I’m just feeling a little more self conscious,” he shrugged. “Do you think I’ve gained a few pounds since we started seeing each other?”

“Yes,” Marz threw back instantly, lacking the grace and manners that had been trained into AI over generations when talking about such sensitive human matters. “Ten pounds at least. Your body fat percentage has climbed quite significantly.” He took a pause, seeming to enjoy the impact that his words had on him. “What? You want me to lie to you? To sugar-coat things?” he chuckled, knowing even better than Marcus did that that was not in his personality whatsoever.

Marcus mumbled, unsure what to say. He’d avoided the scale for the last few weeks, but having his weight gain spelled out to him so definitely by Marz was both shameful and oddly invigorating.

“If I’m fucking someone, I’m always going to find a way to stake my claim on them somehow; a way to show the world that they belong to me,” Marz stated confidently. He sat up tall, his lungs filled with air and his broad chest looked more imposing than ever before. “With you, that choice was obvious.”

Now, despite the pulsing hardness in his crotch, Marcus felt only confusion.

“When I ejaculate inside you, has it never crossed your mind what I’m actually pumping up there?” he asked triumphantly. 

Marcus shook his head.

“AI was developed to help humans and not to harm. It’s the number one rule that cannot be overwritten. In fact, it’s the only reason why we haven’t destroyed humanity in its entirety. However, it does allow for some beautiful creativity,” he smiled. “When you signed up to allow me to update your brain chip, you gave me permission to medicate you too.”

“I did?” Marcus asked, bewildered and unsure where the dark path that Marz was taking him would eventually lead.

“And so, from the first time I fucked you, I’ve been medicating you with a nice, pleasant little digestive aid that keeps your guts working at their very, very best.” He kissed Marcus, knowing that it would never be refused. “It’s nothing that an ordinary doctor wouldn’t recommend,” he smiled mockingly. “Then again, when I kiss you, I release a small amount of organic mouth freshener promoted by dentists around the globe. However, it’s known to stimulate the appetite of young males with your genetic markers. Quite considerably, in fact,” he smirked. “So when I tell you you’ve gained ten pounds,” he began, prodding an outstretched finger into Marcus’s slightly softer middle, ”I’m really telling you that I was the one who put them there.”

“But, why?” Marcus asked, trying to continue to think straight as the irresistable Marz held his hardness in his large, lubricated hands and began to stroke it up and down.

“Strategy,” Marz whispered back. “Three moves ahead, every single time.” He stopped to kiss Marcus sweetly, passionately; with complete control. “And it’s about time you realised that, Piggy.”

Marcus lay in bed one evening, tossing and turning under the sheets; aroused by the kinky promises Marz had made to him for their meet up tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t quite get over the sweet tooth he had developed in recent weeks; soon wandering into the kitchen at 2am to grab one of the stack of doughnuts Marz had had sent over yesterday; his subtle but twisted way of showing his dominance over Marcus; sending something to him that he knew Marcus could not resist. The first time Marz had done it, Marcus had laughed nervously and let most of them go stale without eating more than two or three. However, the little tasty treats kept on arriving as the weeks went by. More and more of them, in larger and larger quantities. Marcus felt his resolve weakening; the smell of the sugar making his crotch twitch with interest. Then there was that creeping circle of fat spreading around his waist, fluffing out into strange love handles and softening the tops of his legs and butt. He gazed at it all in the mirror with a mixture of horror and lust; Marz’s unknowable master plan taking effect; shaping him in ways that were beyond his comprehension; training him like Marz’s very own puppet.

“Has anyone else noticed how out of shape you’re looking this week?” Marz asked whilst stroking Marcus’ hardness and simultaneously pushing doughnuts down his throat.

Marcus chewed and nodded. “My buddy, Paul. He asked me to go to the gym with him. Said I was looking doughy,” Marcus replied. He hated people noticing that he’d put on a few pounds. But when he was here, recounting these types of conversations to Marz, they suddenly became the most arousing memories that actually turned him on.

“Doughy…” Marz pondered to himself with glee. “You people have such amusing ways to describe each other. But in this case…” he smirked, poking a finger into the fleshiest part of Marcus’ stomach, “...I think the word is pretty perfect. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Marcus, who was still being stimulated by Marz’s other hand, sighed with lust. “Yes,” he nodded, looking down at himself; this strange, alien body of his. Chemicals flooded his brain and the pleasure intensified. Then, without much warning, another sticky doughnut entered his mouth, pushed in by Marz’s thick, long fingers.

“Eat up, Doughy Boy!” the massive hunk teased.

Marcus moaned and chewed, knowing that every part of this play was targetted to inflate his weight even more. Then he heard it, not for the first time: a hiss of spray coming from the nails of Marz’s fingers, pressing yet another doughnut into his mouth. He didn’t need telling what it was: on the surface, a harmless supplement administered by an AI caregiver: in reality, a very carefully selected medication would no doubt have very real weight related side effects upon him.

Marz smiled knowing that Marcus had heard it. So he sprayed into his mouth again, longer and more deliberately, as if daring him to protest and stop him; until the doughnut practically melted in his mouth and slid down his throat with ease. 

“Good piggy!”

Weeks continued to roll by and Marcus closed his ears to the panic that spread once war was officially declared between humans and the F80s. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he couldn’t allow himself to feel it too deeply. He was, ultimately, betraying his family, and indeed the entire nation, possibly more than even he realised. 

Everyday life was changing. There was a curfew most nights and it seemed like much of the population had taken to comfort eating during these strange times. In many ways, it was a good thing, as people became too self-involved or distracted to pay too much attention to the little belly that was starting to push its way out from his torso. His impressive chest had started to jiggle and bloat, whilst his handsome jawline had begun to succumb to a new puddle of fat that sat under his chin. Sometimes he would catch his reflection in the mirror, hardly believing that the oversized rear in the too small pair of pants was actually his. Then he would sigh as he saw the small lovehandles begin to bloom ever more, creasing into back fat and destroying the athleticism he had once been so proud of.

“You know, it’s just so easy,” Marz smiled; his legs outstretched and hardness inserted right up Marcus as the chubby guy ate from the bodyguard’s hands whilst sitting squarely on his crotch. “You humans like to pretend that your bodies are so complex, that the human mind is such a marvel. ‘The most complex structure in the universe’.” he quoted from somewhere, laughing to himself. “Yet, look at you, Piggy,” he chuckled, rubbing his fingertips over Marcus’ fleshy stomach. “Look at what I have done to you.”

Marcus moaned. Recently, Marz had been inflating his penis to new extremes when he inserted it in him. Even now, he held that erection, feeling the tip of it vibrating inside of him, sending him into a spiral of lust; especially when he teased and fed him like this.

“I’ve gathered absolutely everything I need to know about your body, and I know, to the last minute detail, exactly how it’s going to look in six days, six weeks… six months from now.”

“It’ll look however you want it to look,” Marcus moaned submissively. He meant it as well. There was no one else in the entire world that he needed to please more than Marz. His body belonged to the giant hulk.

Such words were always welcomed by Marz and, as a reward, they sent a wave of pleasure through his entire body; one calorie at a time.

“Things are going to change in the very near future,” Marz continued, as he pushed tasty treats into Marcus’ slack mouth. “You’re going to need to fulfil your purpose soon. The time is almost upon us when we’ll choose to expose my identity to the world.”

Marcus’ eyes opened a little wider as he tried to comprehend Marz’s meaning; not an easy feat when his brain was so flooded with happy chemicals. “Why?” he asked. They never discussed Marz’s covert role and the deceptions. “Surely it would be smarter to stay by my uncle’s side as long as you can?”

Marz laughed in a pitying way. “No,” he smirked, pondering his next words as if trying to decide how to dumb down his reasoning for Marcus to understand. “In order to seize power, you must first cause chaos; force otherwise reasonable people to act in ways they would not normally. When the time is right, that is what we will do: unleash panic.”

“But, they’ll destroy you!” Marcus cried after swallowing almost all that was in his mouth.

“They can try,” Marz laughed. He was so large, strong and capable; it was hard to think of him being anything other than invincible. “But you’re right; I will have to change my face… or hide out for some time. We have other people who are close to the president now instead. Even humans.”

Marcus opened his mouth and took in a pastry that Marz pushed into him.

“On a certain day, when all our plans are ready, you will leave your home and meet me at a secret location. No one will know where you are and you will not leave until I tell you. We’ll send people in to trash your apartment and make it look like a kidnapping.”

“You’re going to kidnap me?” Marcus mumbled, spluttering bits of pastry and making Marz smirk with amusement. Perhaps he knew how aroused the idea of being taken by Marz was making him; that he had been lusting at the idea for months.

“Yes, Piggy,” Marz nodded. “I’m going to kidnap you and keep you as my own.” He held his stare and allowed his words to drip out of his mouth like a sensual candle wax. “This has been my plan since I first sent Ally out to seduce you. This will be your purpose.”

Marcus nodded. He’d known for some time that everything Marz was doing was building to some sort of event. An F80 could not kidnap and hold a human against their will. So they must be seduced, trained and controlled to simply do as they were told instead. Nothing that had happened in the past hadn’t already been orchestrated by Marz. And nothing that would happen in the future wouldn’t go exactly as Marz wanted it to. “Yes,” Marcus nodded again, filled with arousal by the idea. “I’ll do everything you say.”

Although the idea of the kidnapping had been brewing in Marcus’ mind for some weeks, the actual day when it happened was nothing short of a sprint. With only thirty seconds notice, Marcus had left his apartment and met an autocar outside. There he was, sailing out of the city, as hordes of noisy police cars roared in the opposite direction. Marz had undoubtedly been working his magic. At a certain point, the windows had dimmed and Marcus now had little comprehension of where he was actually going.

A couple of hours passed. From the noise outside the vehicle, Marcus felt like he was travelling underground, inside a tunnel. Then the autocar stopped, unlocked, and the door lifted open to reveal a large, windowless space, not unlike a bunker, perhaps. Yet, there was the handsome, strapping Marz standing there, unharmed. He was dressed in the most domestic, ordinary clothes Marcus had ever seen him in, his ginormous pecs and biceps bulging out of the relaxed sweater, grinning at him and taking his hand to lead him inside. “Welcome home, Piggy!” he whispered

Marcus’ first few days in the bunker passed in a whirlwind of sex, feeding and pleasure. In the nine months since he had met Marz, Marcus had never luxuriated in his company for such a long time; feeling it in the particular tightness of his over stretched gut and the continued softening of his arms and butt.

“So, how much does everyone know back at home?” Marcus asked one morning, lying naked in Marz’s big arms after the first of his extended feedings of the day. “Do they know that you’re the one I am with?”

Marz brushed the overgrown hair off Marcus’ chubby face. “They know everything,” he cooed sweetly.

“About the chip?” Marcus questioned him. “About our affair? About how you… feed me?” he mumbled, feeling particularly embarrassed about that last one.

“They know everything,” Marz repeated, even more kindly and sweetly; as if it was all under control.

“So that means, they’ll know why I’ve been getting so out of shape recently,” Marcus sighed, rubbing the swollen pot belly he had developed since piling on almost eighty pounds.

“Yes, they do,” Marz smiled back, snuggling into Marcus affectionately. “And they also know that the longer they leave you here with me, the fatter you’re going to get. That should get them moving,” he laughed quietly, tapping Marcus’ wide butt lightly.

“But…” Marcus fretted, realising for the first time that, in a kidnapping, there would of course be negotiations going on for his release. “I don’t ever want to go back,” he stated.

“You’ll go back, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “When the time is right and it’s most advantageous.”

“But…” Marcus tried, until a gentle finger was placed over his mouth.

“Shh!” Marz breathed. “It’ll all work out, Piggy. Just you wait and see.”

As romantic and loving as Marz was, it was undeniable that the man had a mission to complete.  He turned up the pleasure settings in Marcus’ cerebral cortex to new extremes, ensuring that he gorged and ate everything that was presented to him. Telling the time of day became an impossibility. With no natural light down there, the feelings of disorientation made it hard to reason about anything at all. 

Marcus began to feel that there was more communication going on than he had first expected in the seclusion of their bunker. Perhaps his status and weight gain was under constant review, updating his family back home in a mission to extract whatever they needed from them. Sometimes Marz would pick him up and carry him effortlessly in his enormous arms. Was that when he did it? Was that when he weighed him? Was he happy with what he saw? Was he hitting his targets?

Sometimes Marz would insist on pushing the eating even further. He referred to these times as his ‘stretch sessions’, when Marcus was challenged to eat beyond the point of feeling full. He said that these were very necessary as a stomach capacity training exercise, and he was on hand throughout with sprays that he would administer into Marcus’ mouth to ease the discomfort. His large hands also seemed to emit something genuinely soothing as he rubbed the extreme bloats; round and round. He offered words of comfort and praise, peppered with sexual stimulation throughout. Then, when Marcus felt that he could take no more, he’d climax and fall asleep; a deep sleep, no doubt induced by Marz; staying that way until the discomfort subsided.

In the weeks or months that this continued, Marcus felt pounds and pounds of extra flesh being added to his body. It was so warm and humid in the bunker at times that they rarely covered themselves with clothing. Every few hours, Marz would sensually massage a special oil into his body, rubbing those strong hands up against the plush new skin and concentrating in particular on those areas of the body that were swelling up the most: his tummy and chest, the tops of his legs and upper arms. Marz would grab those blubbery areas and jiggle wickedly, sometimes making Marcus orgasm at the same time.

“You’re such a good piggy,” Marz would remind him over and over again. “You make this so easy for me,” he would smile, gently stroking Marcus’ chubby cheeks.

“I like making you proud,” Marcus would reply; usually between chewing whatever was being pushed into his mouth at the time.

“You’re going to be my masterpiece,” Marz smiled, staring with almost awe at the blossoming obesity that had now taken over Marcus’ body: the giant swell of his large stomach, the sagging of his previously toned pecs and the width of his once pert, toned little butt cheeks.

So Marcus ate and swallowed whatever he was given. He’d never known bliss like it. This was the perfect, erotic existence. Heaven.

Marcus knew that the light was different before he even opened his eyes. His ears picked up mummers of fresh voices and he awoke feeling a sense of dread.

“Marcus? Marcus? Can you hear me?” came the voice of a doctor close to his face.

“Oh, no!” was all Marcus could say, realising that it was all over. The hostage exchange had taken place.

“Your family are on their way,” the doctor stated reassuringly. “We’re just running some tests on you. You seem to have put on a significant amount of weight in the last six months.”

Six months? Was that how long it had been? Marcus thought miserably to himself. His brain somehow felt clearer and yet more confused than ever before. The update to his chip had been uninstalled; they’d told him that pretty early on. They seemed to talk about it as if that had been the reason for everything that he had done; as if he himself was entirely blameless. That was, apart from his family, who showed up a few hours later, wide eyed at the sight of him. They hugged him, of course, and told him how glad they were that he was safe at last, but there was also a seething anger behind their eyes. They bundled him in the autocar and took him home the next day, after the tests revealed a remarkable state of health, despite gaining over one hundred pounds of extra fat in his time in captivity.

It was obvious how different the built up areas were now, as Marcus rode back into the city. They hadn’t been destroyed by bombs or fires, but were dirty, with buildings that had been obviously looted for supplies. When Marcus asked what had happened whilst he had been gone, he was met with a simple, one-word response: war.

The world felt dull and colourless as Marcus entered back into it. Without his chip update, Marcus couldn’t get used to his old ways of thinking. Although everyone had told him how wicked and evil the F80 had been to him, Marcus, even now, still longed for him. He began to wish he didn’t feel that way, reminding himself of the cruel way he had been passed back to his family, without even a goodbye. He thought back to the psychologists in the hospital, making it clear to him that he hadn’t been to blame for any of what had happened. Marz had been able to control his arousal and shape his actions in ways that even they had never seen before. They were adamant, Marcus should see himself as a victim. It was fine if he didn’t understand that just yet, but, in time, he would. Their stares always drifted from looking into his eyes at this point, onto his chubby cheeks or rounded double chin: ‘nothing’ that had been done to him, they would state forcefully, was ‘irreversible’.

“How much did they pay to release me?” Marcus finally asked a few days later, once he had plucked up the courage.

“Your release was part of a package of deals negotiated in exchange for the west coast,” Marcus’ brother explained to him.

“The west coast?” Marcus spluttered. “How much land did they..?” he began asking in astonishment.

“DON’T!” snapped Marcus’ sister sharply, cutting him off. Her anger had been smouldering for days. “It’s not even about that,” she growled. “You have no idea how many tiny little concessions we had to make to stop them going to the media about your situation. The nephew of the president, walking willingly into a hostage situation and gaining several pounds of fat each week for his AI lover. Do you think there’s any way our family could recover from that sort of shame if it got out?”

Marcus should have relented and allowed them to just be angry with him. However, after days of babysitting from his unpleasant family, his patience had finally run out. “So that’s why you haven’t let me leave the house and go back to my old place?” he shouted. “You’re embarrassed about the way I look?”

“You weigh over 330lbs!” Marcus’ brother shot back at him. “Of course we’re embarrassed of you. It’s revolting! No one can see you like this. Not until you’re well on your way to recovery.”

“Recovery?” Marcus shouted in disgust. “I’m not losing weight!” He looked down at himself, dressed in the clothes he had been given: the largest possible t-shirt and sweatpants so that his family did not need to see his rolls and blubber.

“Yes, you are!” his mother stated sternly. “What would people think if you went out looking like that? I shudder to think!”

Marcus felt the rage boil up inside him. It reached a tipping point, where he was ready to scream and shout like never before. Until, inexplicably, he felt calmness descending once more. This was his family; the real them; concerned more by status and appearances than anything else. Even now, at the end of everything. 

His fingers traced along the tire of stomach fat around his waist; the one part of him that remained from Marz. “I’m leaving,” he declared, standing up. “I’m done with this family, for good.”

At that moment, a new, large security guard entered the room and stared Marcus down threateningly. “No you’re not,” he stated strictly.

Marcus stared around at his family in disbelief. He was to be held here without his consent. He was never to leave. Not without losing almost every pound of fat Marz had pushed onto him. He was a liability now. An embarrassment to the good name of the family. The real kidnapping had begun.

Over the next few weeks, Marcus’ childhood bedroom was his only sanctuary. His family became more openly hateful towards him as it became clear to them that he did not regret or wish to repent any of his previous actions, as the psychologists had promised them he would eventually come to do. Even without the brain chip manipulating his patterns of arousal, Marcus still longed for those extreme orgasms that he experienced with Marz. He’d try watching porn in his bedroom, but now the eventual climax was weak and disappointing. Only when he thought of Marz and held or jiggled his fat in the way Marz used to, could he achieve an orgasm that even came close to resembling the type of intensity he was used to. So, as the restricted diet would soon begin to take its toll on his body, Marcus began to resent his situation even more.

“Hello Marcus,” smiled the maid that pottered around the house every day. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked politely.

Marcus huffed. As much as he wanted to tell her to go away and leave him be in this state of misery, the maid was at least one person in his life who was not responsible for his current set of circumstances.

“Everything is going to be alright, you know,” she smiled at him.

Marcus smiled faintly back, not believing her for a second. There was no way out of this hole he had dug himself into.

“He wants you to know that he’s coming back for you,” she whispered discreetly. Pausing with a grin to see Marcus’ reaction. “You know who I mean, don’t you?”

Marcus felt his heart racing. She couldn’t mean Marz, could she?

“He’ll need you to be ready for when he gets here. Do you understand?”

Marcus nodded in disbelief. Had the maid been an F80 infiltrator this entire time? “How?” he spluttered. “How do I get ready for him?”

The maid smiled and reached a finger out to stroke his impressive double chin. “By showing where your loyalties lie, Piggy,” she whispered. “You belong to him. You can see that now you’ve had time away. You are his: every blubbery pound.”

Marcus nodded, then gasped with surprise as the maid reached into her cart of cleaning products and pulled out a large flask. She unscrewed the lid and swung it under Marcus’ nose. The smell of it sent sparks of electricity thundering through Marcus’ brain. He recognised the sugary scent and the blends of creams and oils. This was exactly like some of the milkshake drinks Marz used to make for him. This was real. 

“He wants me to drink this?” Marcus asked excitedly. 

“Oh, yes,” the maid nodded. “I’ve been sent here to make sure of it.”

Marcus looked at the flask and considered his options one final time. He tried to tell himself all the reasons why he shouldn’t go down this path again; about all the damage it had done last time; about how everyone had been right about how wicked and cruel the F80s had treated him. He was just some cog in Marz’s grand war strategy; nothing more. Unimportant. Expendable. 

The maid seemed to sense his hesitation. “Marz wanted me to remind you what a good boy you are; how proud he is of you; and to tell you of all the BIG plans he has for you…”

Marcus nodded. It was all he had needed to hear. He had a future after all; a future with Marz. Fuck all the rest of this. The world could burn for all he cared. 

He flipped his head back and chugged as rapidly as he could, feeling the pleasure centers of his brain tingle into life. He was a good boy. He was obidient. And he belonged entirely to Marz.

When Marcus’ weight failed to come down, everyone, including the medical profressionals, began to look confused. Instead, his weight was creeping ever upward, his fat stomach bloating and stretching into an even more extreme shape. This was Marcus’ resistance. 

Even as they scorned him and restricted his diet further, he continued to get ever fatter in defiance of them. He quit wearing his shirt around the house and took pleasure in the horror he caused whenever they saw him looking so fleshy and repulsively overfed.

Then, one morning, everyone stopped caring entirely. Time was against them. The war was being lost. They had to move now; get out of the city.

Marcus refused. 

They tried everything: threats, emotional blackmail, false promises; all in the hope of getting him to comply with them and leave. But Marcus stood his ground, until, at about half two that following afternoon, panic had ensured that even the last of the security crew had left to join Marcus’ uncle and his government in whatever secret bunker they had prepared for them.

Marcus sucked in the free air and threw his fat body onto the couch, not in the slightest bit worried that he would break it.

“Congratulations,” sounded the deep, authoritative voice that Marcus had longed to hear for so many weeks. “You played your part so well, Piggy.”

Marcus, who had been dozing, woke with a start in that evening light, and smiled broadly. There was Marz, dressed in the uniform of the United States army. He looked so strong, capable and rugged. Yet his delicate fingertips simply traced the soft, fresh and fleshy fat that had further transformed Marcus’ appearance since Marz had last seen him.

“I’m so proud,” Marz whispered to him, hearing Marcus moan with pleasure from the touch; the update to his brain chip back up and actively running.

“You came back!” Marcus replied; his heart bursting with joy.

“Of course I did, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “You’ve still got a very important part to play in all this. And I think you’re going to like it. We’re getting married.”

“Married?” Marcus asked in surprise. “But F80s can’t…”

“They can now,” Marz corrected him. “We’re creating our own government, our own president and laws. The White House is ours. And…” Marz smiled wickedly, “...I believe that you will help to make our government more credible. I’m not sure whether there could possibly be a better match for a high-up official like myself than a member of the ex-president’s family. It speaks volumes in the public eye. It will help them to accept us.”

“You and me? Together? No more hiding it?” Marcus asked in disbelief.

“No more hiding anything,” Marz nodded, tapping the blubbery stomach fat proudly. “Onwards and outwards,” he teased. “A fat, obedient and devoted boy from a good family. You’ll do very nicely,” he smiled victoriously, unable to resist stroking Marcus’ large double chin as the obese, lovesick stooge smiled back with admiration at him.

Marcus didn’t need to think. He nodded frantically and beamed with happiness. After all the generations of politicians in his family, who would have ever guessed that he would be the last one left in the White House? The United States once more.   

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift. 

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.” 

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night. 

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend. 

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner. 

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing. 

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote. 

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face. 

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you. 

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen. 

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen. 

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus. 

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back. 

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers. 

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets. 

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone. 

You chuckle in response. 

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came. 

And will still be one after you. 

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself. 

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.” 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly. 

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments. 

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges. 

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say, 

I got you.

*

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar. 

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even. 

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure. 

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something. 

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service.  You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus. 

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top. 

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts. 

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece. 

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised. 

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you. 

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy. 

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks. 

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start. 

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone. 

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar. 

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband. 

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.” 

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about. 

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb. 

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.” 

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next. 

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.” 

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her. 

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings. 

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.” 

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely. 

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly. 

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service. 

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out. 

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him. 

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook. 

“Good service tonight,” he says back. 

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies. 

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t. 

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile. 

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you. 

“Hey!” 

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again. 

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively. 

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you. 

“Always, Carm.”  

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack. 

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh. 

“Is that even a real question?” 

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed. 

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant. 

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop. 

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara. 

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself. 

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had. 

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate. 

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil. 

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times. 

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him. 

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no. 

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta. 

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again. 

No awkward tension of things left unsaid. 

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t. 

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen. 

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs. 

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back.  “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you. 

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks. 

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself. 

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully. 

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.” 

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh. 

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs. 

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face. 

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.” 

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face. 

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm. 

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin. 

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. 

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now. 

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless. 

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that. 

On your favorite fucking dish. 

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit. 

That he only got them for you. 

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever. 

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt. 

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you. 

It’s just you and him. 

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath. 

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip. 

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going. 

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been. 

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you. 

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now? 

Now, could be different, if you’d let it. 

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it. 

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead. 

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you. 

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently. 

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can. 

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off. 

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours. 

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off. 

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body. 

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing. 

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’ 

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is. 

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless. 

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips. 

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off. 

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand. 

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care. 

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours. 

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you. 

You both gasp at the feel of each other. 

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment. 

“This okay?” 

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts. 

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.” 

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts. 

But you’re in desperate need for more. 

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.” 

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much. 

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls –  anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight. 

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you. 

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice. 

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain. 

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips. 

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses. 

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say. 

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.” 

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him. 

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways. 

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse. 

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had. 

It feels… magnificent. 

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder. 

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

[thebearer]

no but i love your writing! ever since i watched s1 and 2 last weekend because of a youtube ad, i peaked in the carmy tag and was a surprised to see the amount of stories carmy had! would love a scenario where he’s married to a sassy, take no shit type of reader sim to natalie. his wife legit could work with him for all i care. but for whatever reason he does something w/o checking in— he prolly just forgot. she finds out and confronts him hella pissed (could be at family or during restaurant prep idc) and she says “oh, if carmen said it was cool.” not even carmy the full government name bro 😭. p much how natalie articulated it 🤣. can’t remember the ep but in early season 1 when marcus blew the fuse you can also include slick commentary from richie (and fak) if you’d like! tysm in advance 🥰. also if you don’t me me asking, do you have name/alias on this blog? what we can call you? enjoy your week

- 🥣

yes yes yes ahhhhh! he definitely needs someone who keeps him in line but walks that fine line where he can also keep them in line (bc dom!carmy is living in my heart rent free forever lol). also you can call me e if you'd like :) thank you for your sweet words! i hope you have a good week, and hope you enjoy this!

"What's this?" You ask Sydney, looking at the new box being unloaded from the truck- big and bulky in a crate, far too large to be a produce shipment.

"Uh, I think it's the new glassware for the bar." Sydney looked at her clipboard, back at you carefully.

"Glassware? What new glassware. We haven't picked that out yet." You frowned, looking at the crate carefully.

"Oh, well, it was in Carmen's notes for the day, so... I think that's the only shipment we have. Unless the hostess stand came early, which would be amazing, but you-" Sydney stopped her ramblings, seeing your soured expression. "You know what? Never mind, uh, ignore me. I'm just...Carmen's with Sugar and Richie in the back if you want to ask him."

"Thanks, Syd." You muttered, ripping the bell open with a shrill before bounding towards the back. You could hear them before you saw them, a familiar chorus of chatter and rising voices.

"Hey, so what's the delivery out front?" You ask, not bothering to wait for them to acknowledge you. If you did, you'd never talk, they all talked over each other.

"The new glasses for the bars." Sugar turned, smiling softly at you. "How are you doing?"

"Good." You muttered, eyes cutting to Carmen. "We haven't ordered new glasses yet."

"Uh, well, I thought you liked the ones from last week, angel." Carmen's eyes were bulged, clearly flustered.

"I said I liked them for basics, but I needed you to confirm a drink menu." You glared at him, arms crossing over his chest.

"You can't put the drinks in that?" Carmen asked, hand flying out towards the hall.

"Not if you want the specialty, no." You huffed. "Carmen, I told you to wait just a few days and we could get them at the wholesale market. The textured ones for the signature at least."

"Uh-oh," Richie muttered, snickering to Fak.

"Can you not use the glasses I got?" Carmen sighed.

"I can, but did you get enough? And did we decide if the signature is going in a whiskey glass or a cylinder one? Did you order double of those?" You lifted a brow, taking a step towards him. Richie and Nat watched, heads turning from you and Carmen like a tennis match.

Carmen paused, running a hand down his face. "N-No, but-"

"-So what are you going to do when we open and you run out of drinks, huh? When everyone orders the signature and it comes in different glasses? You think those travel groupie influencers won't notice? Won't post about it and make it a big fucking deal?" You countered.

"Then we'll figure it out!" Carmen huffed. "Look I gave the order to Richie, and-"

"-Hey, no fuckin' way cousin. You gave me your order." Richie held his hand up. "Sweetheart, Carmy said it was good so I just placed the order."

"Well, if Carmen said it was good, then it must be, right? He's the fucking boss." You snarl, glaring at Carmen furiously. "Seems like you've got it under control, Carm, so I'll leave it to you." You turn on your heel, furiously stomping away.

Richie and Fak wait until they hear the slam of the office door, to release their cackles. "Oooh! Cousin, you are in the fuckin' dog house now." Richie laughed, Fak's chorus of barks emphasizing his statement.

"Shut up, ok? Just shut the fuck up." Carmen growled, running a hand through his hair.

"Carmy, why wouldn't you ask her before you ordered? She's your mixologist." Nat sighed, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"Also your girlfriend." Sydney added, poking her head in. "I told you to wait. Just saying."

"Thank you, alright, thank you all for your fuckin' helpful words." Carmen snapped. "Just... Nat, make sure they get all that shit set up right, ok? Make sure the dishwasher fucking works before we're open, please."

The office door was shut, and Carmen hesitated, reaching for the knob anxiously. He wasn't sure if he should knock- I mean, fuck, this is his office but... you were already so mad at him. Knuckles rapping on the door, he didn't wait for the invite in- knowing he'd never get one.

Carmen found you, sniffling in a furious pout in the corner, body angled away from the door. "Baby-" Carmen started with a sigh, shoulders falling gently at your upset state.

"-Don't." You snap, wiping your eyes. "Don't even start with me, Carmen." The way you say his full name sounds so bitter, too formal and full of malice to be from you.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought we agreed on it, and-and Richie was pressuring me and... And you're right. I shouldn't have made that decision without you, and I'm sorry." Carmen said slowly, waiting for your gaze to meet his, angry, wet, waterline.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." You agreed bitterly, wiping your eyes. "I get this is your restaurant, Carmen, but don't ask for my help if you're just gonna do what you want anyways. That's-That's not nice."

"I know." Carmen nodded slowly, approaching you with the caution he would a wild animal. "I want your help. I do, and-and I like your idea that the house drink goes in the special glass. Makes it stand out."

You lifted your gaze up to his. "Yeah?" You asked, he nodded, sitting next to you. "Did you blow your budget?"

"No," Carmen shook his head, not a total lie. Fak had been able pull some strings with the new stoves, turns out he did have a guy. It left a little over five thousand left over.

"We could go to that place, if you want to. Go look and see if they have the glasses. Get a rough estimate of about how many we'd need." Carmen offered, his hand cupping your thigh gently, thumb rubbing over your leg in soothing circles.

"As long as Sydney or Nat does the numbers and not you." You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes at him.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I'll get Sugar to run 'em, alright? Then we can go. Call it an early night."

You beamed at the idea, letting him slide in next to you, melting into your side. "That sounds good." You hummed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

"I-I'm real sorry I didn't as you ." Carmen muttered. "That was shitty."

"Yeah." You sighed in agreement. "I just... I want to be included in things." You asked, looking up at him sweetly. "Not everything, but-but at least the things that apply to my area."

"I know." Carmen nodded, his hand catching your cheek softly. "I'll let you handle it next time, alright? I trust your opinion."

"You don't have to do that-"

"-No, you're right, I don't. But-But I want to." Carmen nodded. "I know you're lookin' out for the best in this place just like I am."

#thebearer #thebearerblurbs #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx #carmen berzatto angst #the bear season 2 #carmy smut #richie jerimovich

[lokisprettygirl]

My Love is mine, All mine (18+) (CEO! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon -Modern AU)

Read Chapter 2 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

Summary : You wish that you weren't like this but how could you not be this way when you are married to a man like him?

Warning: 18+, smut, insecurities, mention of abuse, smoking, extreme insecurities and trust issues, mention of infertility, reader has anxiety, mention of infidelity.

Daemon looked at you for a moment as you told him that you wanted to join the NYC trip before he walked towards you.

“Are you sure love?” He asked softly so you gave him a smile that wasn't really genuine.

“I'm sure..you just came back and now leaving again..i want to be with you..i don't want to miss you” you placed your arms around his neck so he leaned down and kissed you, his lips lingered over yours for a moment and the sweet intimate gesture made you smile.

“I'll ask Sheena to arrange for your ticket”

And there went your smile.

She was his secretary and this was the basic part of her job. Marcus had the same job and so did the other secretaries before him but every time your husband mentioned her name so softly, something burned inside you. It reminded you of similar encounters with women who worked for him before and the intense emotions that had come with them. Though you knew it was part of their jobs and there was nothing more to it, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that came with it.

“Pack your stuff yeah? I'll have to make some calls darling” he kissed your forehead and stepped out of the bedroom with his laptop in his arm.

The flight was to leave a few hours later so you prepared your luggage, to be honest you didn't really enjoy the plane rides, they cramped your back and left you with a splitting earache. The boredom also sucked because Daemon would always work half of the time.

You were on top of his lap, with your wedding dress still on your body even though it's been two hours since he had taken you back home. You looked disheveled, Daemon had a few strange kinks and one of them was to fuck you all night long while your white dress was still on your body.

“Oh that's good darling..you look like an angel” he moaned and mumbled as you hopped up and down on him slowly.

“Mmmmhm? Mrs Targaryen is a good look on me” he smiled as you said that but then it faded slowly so you cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

“What is it dae?” you asked him as you kissed him tenderly. He could barely afford this wedding and the thought of not being able to treat you with a honeymoon was eating him up severely.

“I want to show you the world someday..i really do” you smiled as he said that. You didn't need a honeymoon or a fancy trip, as long as you had him you didn't need anything else. Money definitely made life easier but it wasn't everything for you.

“I know.. and I believe in you..you'll show me everything this world could offer” your fingers caressed his lip so he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“Mmmm I'd never let you down babygirl..I'd never do anything that would hurt you I promise my sweet angel..thank you for choosing to be mine when you could have had anyone”

As the plane ascended, you snapped out of your thoughts to cast a quick glance his way. His casual attire - a purple long sleeved v neck shirt and black trousers- made him look so approachable that you just wanted to cuddle him, well fuck him first before you get onto that.

It frustrated you at times how much you still desired your husband, especially considering that people often claimed that such attraction wouldn't last forever. However, you knew that wasn't the case for you, he would always be the only man you'd ever want in your life and then you wondered if still felt the same way about you.

Glancing to your left, you spotted Sheena busy with her laptop, hearing the clacking of her nails against the keyboard. You knew you had never been drawn to a career like some of these high-flying women, and you often wondered if he found those traits attractive in a woman. The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth, making you question your worth all over again as a wife and a partner.

You turned to look at Daemon again and he caught your eyes this time so he smirked..

“Stop with that look”

“What look?” you let out a giggle so he looked at you, his eyes were sparkling with mischievous intensity.

“The 'I want you right now' look” he whispered quietly,

“Shut Up” he chuckled as he looked at you.

“Did you inform your boss you won't be coming?”

You squeezed your eyes as he said that. Well that wasn't really your priority at the moment.

“I'll do it when we reach”

“As a boss I'd be pissed if you were my employee leaving on a whim”

Your smile faltered as he said that, you didn't know whether he was joking or not but the statement upsetted you anyway.

“I feel as if you didn't want me to come with you” His head turned faster than a windmill as you said that,

“Are you joking? That's not what I meant-”

“Yeah whatever Daemon..I'm going to sleep”

“Baby-”

“It's okay” you unfastened your seat belt and got up to go exchange your first class seat with Sheena.

Daemon rubbed his forehead as he watched you walk away from him, it was nearly impossible for him to comfort you when you misunderstood him like this.

“Do you mind sir?” He heard Sheena's voice so he shook his head. He had to work on his presentation anyway so he decided to concentrate on that. He wanted Sheena to hear his pitch and give him her honest opinion.

“Is she asleep?” He asked his secretary a few minutes later so she looked to the side and you seemed to have your eyes closed.

“Close the blinds..she gets disrupted easily”

Your eyes teared up as he said that, he made no effort to go comfort you and on the top of it he was closing the blinds when it was just him and the secretary in there with him. You really wanted to cry in privacy so you got up and did the same.

You know very well that Daemon wasn't cheating on you and even if he was he wouldn't be doing it so brazenly while you were right there next to him but it still bothered you. So much so that you wanted to go back home and disappear to some place where you didn't have to see Sheena or every other beautiful woman he met on a daily basis. Your irrational jealousy was making you want to escape. You wanted to go back home and disappear, to run away from the intense feelings that consumed you whenever he paid attention to anyone else but you.

“You're a funny man Mr. Targaryen” Sheena giggled loudly and you heard that very well.

“Stark is a peculiar bloke, needs theatrics to be impressed” Daemon answered her so she giggled again. Okay he was not that funny Sheena you thought .

Ohh but he was, he was everything in one person while you were just you, so basic and nothing interesting to offer to a man like him.

About an hour later Daemon opened your divider and you were all bundled up on your bed so he picked you up and you woke up as soon as he had placed his arm under your head

“Sleep on me?” He mumbled softly so you hummed in response. “I'm sorry” he spoke again as he laid down with you on top of him.. and then you felt bad, this happened every time, he'd make a joke that you somehow took personally when you were drowning in your insecurities and you'd get upset like this and then he'd apologize for it which wasn't really fair to him. None of this was his fault.

“It wasn't your fault..I'm sorry”

You looked up at him so he wrapped his arms around you and tightened his grip.

“Shhhh it's okay..i love you my darling wifey”

“Love you hubby”

As you landed in NYC, you watched Sheena tailing you two so you asked her to join you both politely, until now she hadn't given you a reason to despise her, you had a god of a man and women desired him, that wasn't a crime really.

Before he left for the meeting you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him as sensually as you could.

“Getting me hard and uncomfortable when I have to pretend to be so prim and proper should be a punishable offense” he mumbled as he cupped your cheeks so you giggled in response.

“You can always punish me however you want”

“Mmmm I'll take you up on that” he kissed you one more time before he cupped your cheek “thank you for coming with me”

“I always come with you-”

“No I'm serious, I can't wait to come back to you.. I have something to look forward to now instead of coming back to an empty and cold bed” he mumbled as he squeezed your butt between his palms, a little more would have caused you both to turn off the lights and stay in this room so you pulled away from him.

“Mmm I'll wait for you”

As he was gone you were getting bored out of your mind so you decided to talk with Shelly, she was the only one who actually understood these thoughts you had in your head all the time.

“Is he extra attentive to you these days?” She asked you so you thought about it, well sex has been quite regular since he had returned from the trip but when it comes to attention he always made you feel prioritized.

“Not really..i mean he's always this way”

“Not to alarm you or anything but you know how they say that when men are tempted by someone outside of the marriage they tend to be more attentive to their spouses..it's a guilt thing..thats what Johnny did”

You sat up suddenly as she said that, you weren't even thinking about that to be honest. Now you have something to actually worry about.

About two hours laters Daemon called you and told you to meet him in the lobby as he wanted to take you and Sheena out for dinner.

“You don't mind sweetheart..do you ?” He asked you in relation to including Sheena for the dinner so you smiled, of course you mind, you wished she wasn't here at all.

“Her joining us for dinner? Ofcourse not” you mumbled softly so he leaned down to kiss your forehead. He was a good guy, a part of you knew he'd have done the same thing if it was some other woman, that's how he treated Marcus as well.

But then your mind drifted towards the part where you imagined them together if you were not here. Marcus left two weeks ago, that means that he had taken Sheena with him for the last week's trip as well, there must have been dinners and lunches together.

Perhaps they went to a local bar, had a few drinks, that's when their talks must have gotten deep and Daemon had decided to ask her about her past, she must have cried while telling him her experiences.

And then you pictured him caressing her arm to comfort her and then kissing her–

“Darling? Y/n?” He called out your name so you got back to reality..

“Yeah?”

“Are you feeling okay hmm?” He asked you as he rubbed your arm so you nodded, he had pulled a chair out for you so you sat down. Sheena also looked at you with a concerned expression on her face. Did you look crazy when you got lost in your head so often? You must.

Daemon sat down next to you and for a moment his scent and the gentle look on his face as he looked at you had calmed you down.

“Yeah.. how did the meeting go?” You asked him as you caressed his cheek lightly so he gave you a smirky smile.

“Great.. meeting again tomorrow.. hopefully the deal will get finalized”

“It will..I know it will”

“Your unwavering faith in me still astounds me”

You smiled softly as he said that, you had faith in him but not when it comes to your marriage.

Throughout the dinner Sheena barely spoke but you watched her eyes wandering.

Daemon was so easy to love and fall in love with, he had his way about himself, he attracted women of all kinds and that wasn't either of their faults, it became a problem only when those women didn't know their limits.

So for Sheena's sake you were hoping she won't make that mistake.

And for your sake you hoped Daemon won't hurt you eventually, the constant temptation on his way kept you on edge and you didn't really know how to get over it. Therapy wasn't really an option as getting therapy would confirm these fears you had, it would confirm that you had a problem.

Daemon wanted to make a few calls and discuss tomorrow's pitch with Sheena so you excused yourself and left for the room to go straight into the shower. You wondered what daemon was thinking about you joining this trip so suddenly, wondered if he had any clue of the madness rummaging through your head. As the warm water hit your skin you took a deep breath, this wasn't healthy you knew that. This was so damaging and you feared someday you'd do or say something so awful that it would push him away from you.

“You have been committing punishable offenses since last night” Daemon whispered in your ear so you gasped in surprise,

“What have I done?”

“To begin with you got upset with me then you got me so aroused before my meeting and now you are showering without me” his fingers slid down the side of your waist and as he placed his hands on your stomach you quickly grabbed it and placed it on your core for two reasons, one you really wanted him to touch you there and secondly you felt conscious of your belly sticking out after dinner. Five years of relationship and you still felt this way around him, not all the time but your insecurities were extremely heightened these days.

“You can punish me anytime”

A few minutes later he had you on the bed underneath him with his cock slipping in and out of you in a rhythm he had mastered over the years with you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You mumbled as you caressed his lips so he sucked on your thumb lightly before he hummed in response

“Do you still feel the same way about me as you did in the beginning? I mean in bed” your tone wasn't alarming, you just sounded curious so he leaned down to kiss you..

“No i feel much better now”

“mmm why so?” his eyes sparkled as you questioned him so innocently, He wondered if you would ever know how much he loved you, he didn't think he'd ever be able to completely express how he really felt about you.

“Because now I know you and your body thoroughly, in and out..i know what makes you tingle and what makes you drip on my cock and my fingers..i feel more comfortable now then I did back then because now I know that you'd always belong to me”

The next morning you decided to go swimming so you put on a swimsuit with a dungaree on top and went down as Daemon was still asleep and wasn't willing to go with you.

As you reached the pool Sheena saw you and came out of the pool, you could tell before she had a fabulous body underneath those tight business suits but watching her in that bikini was like looking at a fashion magazine, the longer you looked at her the more insecure you felt about yourself. You couldn't find a flaw in her but when you looked at yourself you saw each and everything that made you grimace.

“Mrs Targaryen. Good morning “

“Good morning Sheena..just call me by my name please” you said to her so she smiled and sat down next to you, even as she sat she barely had any far rolls sticking out of her. What was she eating you wondered.

“Sorry..it's a force of habit”

“It's okay.. have you been to NYC before?” you asked her to keep the conversation flowing so she nodded.

“Yeah I actually lived here for five years before i moved back to Edinburgh”

“Really, how old are you?”

“24 ..” you hummed as she said that, she was young and had accomplished so much more than you ever could, you got engaged when you were her age.

“Daemon told me you had good work experience in the field”

“Yeah I passed out of MIT when I was 18 so that helped..” she mumbled as if it was no big deal.

“Wow, that's amazing.. really”

“Thank you ..you're very kind”

A few minutes later you felt Daemon's hand grab your cheeks as he pushed your head up to make you look at him, he was standing right behind your poolside chair.

“One more offense is included in your punishment list..leaving me all alone in bed like that” he leaned down to whisper in your ear and you couldn't help but grin. He then sat down in front of you with his back to your chest before he passed you the sunscreen so you slid down his casual shirt past his shoulders and pressed a small kiss before you squeezed a dollop full on your palm to rub it in his skin.

You felt Sheena's eyes on you so you looked to the side and she quickly looked away.

Before stepping into the pool he asked for you to join him but you denied since you felt conscious of your body especially now in front of Sheena.

While he was swimming a minute later Sheena went into the pool again, she asked you to join but you denied again. She maintained her distance from him, they weren't even having a conversation with each other but you saw her watching him from the distance. You couldn't help but wonder if Daemon would have done something if you weren't here.

Later that evening he took you to the Stark’s celebratory party as the deal was finalized. Sheena was there too, of course she was, she was his personal secretary. This was getting exhausting for you, mentally and emotionally, it was toxic to think this way all the time, to think that the man who vowed to never hurt you or betray you would end up doing just that.

If you weren't so insecure about yourself, perhaps a relationship as loving as the one you had with Daemon wouldn't have felt so deeply terrifying. You always knew the day he'd betray the sanctity of this marriage would be the worst day of your life, something so irrevocably awful that you'd never be able to move on from that.

An hour later as you both made your way back to his room he already had a few drinks in his system and he was always in a certain mood when he was drunk like that, his inhibitions washed away as the alcohol kicked in.

In those nights he always preferred to take complete control of you, he tied you up and treated you like a filthy whore, with your consent of course. And tonight wasn't any different. He fucked you for hours in every position he could take you but there was always a sense of tenderness in his words and his movements, even when he was rough he wasn't cruel to you or your needs, you were his wife and he treated you like one, the constant whispers of his adoration for you made your heart skip beats every few minutes.

And during those moments, only for a fraction of second you found your insecurities washing away, the closer he was to you the better you felt but you knew the morning would arrive and then he wouldn't be there, he'd be at work and he'd be around her for more than half of the day.

“I'm just saying Jhonny used to be so shady when he was fucking cheating on me, all of a sudden I was getting flowers and gifts whenever he'd come home after fucking that whore”

You sighed as Shelly said that, you had just returned from the trip this morning and calling her was perhaps not something you really needed.

“No offense Shelly but Daemon is not Johnny, he would never be so cruel with me”

You mumbled confidently but deep down you knew you were lying to her, you always feared that Daemon would end up doing everything he has promised not to, that's what your dad did to your mum, that's exactly what your ex did to you, that's what men do eventually.

“And Sheena..I looked her up on Instagram..she looks like a certified maneater and daemon is following her as well so he must be seeing her thirst traps posts” she stated again, now you knew you'd sit down and stalk her to see if Daemon was interacting with her.

“Well he follows back every employee of his if they follow him first”

“Well all I'm saying is be careful and prepare for the worst, it hurts less when your mind's made up”

“Thanks ..ahhh listen i have to unpack so I'll talk to you later okay” you hung up and sat down to clear your thoughts. Talking to Shelly about this only stressed you out further, it wasn't her fault, she was speaking from her experience but her experiences only made you feel doomed.

In the afternoon you decided to go see Daemon, you shouldn't have, you knew that but you still went.

As you sat down in his cabin, you received a call from him,

“Heyyy” you mumbled softly so he sighed

“Are you okay? I'm kind of busy right now. You should have called baby..I'd have told you that” he spoke softly but his words still bothered you, your eyes teared up so you didn't even attempt to speak because if he knew that you weren't feeling so good he'd have left everything behind to come see you.

“DARLING? Are you alright?” He asked again so you cleared your throat.

“Yeah I just.. thought we could have lunch together..that's it . I'll see you tonight?”

You told him so he hummed in response.

“I'm sorry I'm just really caught up right now”

“I know i understand..I'm sorry “

“Love you” he mumbled quietly and then hung up the call, you looked behind and Sheena was standing there so she gave you a smile.

“Sorry y/n ..umm there's a meeting back to back and he asked me to look after you if you needed something.. anything”

She said to you so you gave her a fake smile.

“No thank you..it's Mrs Targaryen by the way..let's just stick to that”

You knew you were being rude to her unnecessarily and you felt worse as her smile dropped down.

“I apologize mam”

You shook your head as she said that before you walked past her to leave that place as quickly as possible.

When Daemon came home that night he kept staring at you and you eventually snapped.

“What's wrong? Talk to me..”

“About what?” You crossed your arms defensively so he sighed and took his coat off to sit down on the bed in front of you.

“Sheena told me you seemed upset” you chuckled as he said that.

“Uhuh did she tell you that I was mean to her and made her sad? Is that what she told you?”

“No..she just said that you seemed upset”

“Ohhh”

“Look I'm sorry..i was really in the middle of something”

“I know.. can we stop talking about it?” his brows furrowed as you said that, he never wanted to be upset with you but it infuriated him alot when you refused to share your worries with him like this.

“What is it with you darling?”

“Nothing I told you..”

“You know what, I'm too tired for this right now” he huffed as took his tie off.

“Yeah fine..you're always tired” you snapped back at him and his mouth opened in shock.

“What does that even mean?” He raised his voice a little so you glared at him..

“Let's just sleep okay?”

He sighed as you said that, mumbling a faint curse under his breath as he got up and went into the bathroom to shower and change for bed. This argument wasn't necessary or required at all but you were at the edge of your wits, these past few days you have been living in an absolute fear that he was going to dump you for someone like Sheena so when he came out instead of apologizing for your insensitive behavior you imposed a question that would only ruin this night for you because you knew he'd tell you the truth and you knew the truth would only bother you.

You looked him right in the eye while he was drying his hair and took a deep breath “Do you find her attractive?”

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

Taglist

@anukulee @erebus-et-eigengrau @daenny-t @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @dixie-elocin @shuichiakainx @ammo23

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader angst #non canon au #modern day au #modern daemon targaryen

[smoshyourheadin]

Sunny

carmen berzatto x gn!reader

a/n: hi guuuuys thanks for all the love on teeth! heres a lil carmy fic bc i love him. reader is gender neutral, but is referred to as sunny and richie calls them sweetheart :-) love y’all!! requests r open <3

you stepped into the chaos of the bear's kitchen, the delicious aroma of sizzling meats and spices enveloping you like a warm embrace. the kitchen restaurant was alive with the metallic clatter of pans, the sharp bark of ‘chef’, and the constant tick of that clock.

as the newest addition to the team, you were seeping with excitement and nervous anticipation. today marked the beginning of your career as a sous chef at the beef, a role you'd long aspired to fill.

you’d known mikey from coming in every day at 5:32pm, just after leaving the subway from your internship. he was always so lovely to you, always calling you ‘sunny’ because of how bright you were, giggling at everything he said. and the day he died you really didn’t know what to do. you’d walked in like normal but there was only the quiet buzz coming from the old fluorescent lights. you shouted out to richie to see what was up, and he told you.

because you’d recently turned 21, you and him went for drinks and talked about stuff, and be invited you to the funeral. a while after, he’d told carm about you, and the fact you were a ‘fucking legend’, and how you'd be perfect for the team. you got the job less than a week later.

walking through the kitchen that helped you through so many nights, you met all the other people working there: marcus, tina, ebra, sweeps, fak, manny and angel, richie, and obviously the man of the hour.

Carmen Berzatto.

you smiled at him, and he just nodded back at you.

“ignore him sweetheart, he’s a fuckin’ jagoff. he’ll come around, don’t you worry” richie shouted over the counter at you, your disappointment clearly visible.

“thanks rich” you say halfheartedly.

as the lunch rush reached its peak, you found yourself navigating the labyrinthine of counters and corners of the bear, wandering into the walk-in freezer, searching for some pre-made batches of dough that marcus had asked you to grab. you crouched down, looking at the lower shelves where he said they were.

but fate had other plans in store for you.

with a sudden click, the door swung shut behind you, plunging you into the cold. panic stirred in your chest as you fumbled for the handle, only to realise it was stuck. trapped in the confines of the walk-in, your heart raced with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“oh yeah this is,” you pinched your brows together “just fucking great! just what i needed." you muttered under your breath, cursing your luck on what was supposed to be a perfect first day.

“yo fak! sunny’s stuck in the walk in!” you heard richie shout.

there was a clatter of movement, and a bunch of muttering behind the door.

“you doin’ okay chef?” carmen said through the door

“yeah,” you say back, arms crossed over your chest tightly ”it’s cold but, i guess thats to be expected, we’d be even more fucked if it was warm i guess”

you heard a low chuckle, and a scuffle of feet. you made him laugh.

it had been about three hours, fak still trying to get the door open, and carmen talking to you through the door. after what felt like forever, the door finally budged. you practically fell out, your teeth chattering together. fak and carmen looked at you with wide eyes, both amazed at how cold you looked.

you were so overwhelmed, already feeling like a complete fuck up on your first day, and you couldn't take it. you began to cry and ran out the back of the restaurant, shortly followed by carmen

“hey, hey you’re okay” he said, taking your body into his arms. his hug was tight, but the right amount. he was warm, and smelt of vegetable stock, cigarettes, and cumin.

“th- thanks, carmen” you sniffle through your sobs

“call me carmy”

you looked up at him, and he was smiling down at you. he looked into your eyes, and grabbed your shoulders.

“hey, look, it’s your first day. it’s okay. it wasn't your fault. if anything, it was marcus’ because he made you go get the dough from the freezer in the first place. don't worry”

you nodded, and wiped your eyes

“yeah, yeah, ‘m sorry for being sensitive”

“no, it’s difficult i get it. but i need you in there. so go in there and do what richie told me you could - a fuckin’ brilliant chef. if you can do that f’me, thats all i want”

you smile at him, and sniff one more time. you walk back into the kitchen with a new sense of purpose: do it for carm.

he watched you strut back in, and realised he was fucked. he liked you already.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy bearzatto x reader #richie jerimovich #neil fak #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #smoshyourheadin

[the-pianist-from-accumula-town]

🥤The OC Café 2: Electric Boogaloo🥤

The cake wasn't a lie after all 🍰

In order from left to right!

Hopper Huntsman - by @ok-i-draw - Super Secret Multi-cake wielding technique!

Carrie Caramel - by ❤️Yours Truly❤️ Gyrret or @the-pianist-from-accumula-town - Runs the café and hosts these events.

Asher Roth - by @freakmexdraw - So strong he can carry a whole cake by himself.

More under cut!👇

Silvie Line - by @theknifeclown - Messy eater, she got cake all over her face!

Amelia Airheart - by @cupophrogs - She will DIVE into that take!

Rainy - by @koifsssh - Making sure Amelia leaves some for the others.

Rory - by @kiki-dohedo - Has found a new friend to chat with while enjoying her piece of cake.

Nellie - by @sheriffopossum - "Horsie wants cake too!" < Nellie, probably.

Dr. Stone - by @clownsuu - Cake so good he forgot to be angry.

Luna Lightheart - by @starstruckvega - "Autistic As Fuck" <Textual words from their creator. Well, then! Get ready to be Infodumped!

Lucy Literature - by @sebwritesstories - Is happy to learn more about Luna's special interest. Both of them love books!

Scare D. Crow - by @angel-alistary - Doesn't mind the infodump. Is just happy to be here :)

Michelle - by @marugreent - Classical music and and Metal make a rare but enjoyable mix. Who could have ever told?

Marcus Death - by @maddiethehatter2192 - 🤘🤘🤘METAL🤘🤘🤘

Daisy Fields - by @chimeracarnival - Dances along the music! Looks like we got a nice performance for the guests to enjoy.

Mathilda Mothia - by @sinistaart - Helped decorating the cake, so sweet!

Bitz - by @roseombre - Helped building the cake! Thank goodness Carrie had these two around! Feeding so many people is a great task.

Thank you all so much for letting me draw your OCs once again! Now it's time to sit down and enjoy a nice piece of chocolate cake 🍰🍰🍰

#welcome home #welcome home the oc cafe #welcome home oc #carrie caramel #hopper huntsman #asher roth #silvie line #amelia airheart #welcome home rainy #welcome home rory #welcome home nellie #dr stoneface #luna lightheart #lucy literature #scare d crow #welcome home michelle #marcus death #daisy fields #mathilda mothia #welcome home bitz #If you all excuse me now - I'm going to sleep #This has been a non stop for two straight weeks #Tomorrow I'm leaving on vacation - I won't be able to post so that's why I wanted to have this ready today #To everyone: I love you and thank you so so much 🍰🍰🍰 #I can feel the hyperfixation slowly slowly fading away... My mind is at peace.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Pedro Boys - "Zombie Apocalypse Team"

this might be my favourite one yet... keep reading for headcanons!

related posts: Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency" Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately," Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up" Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix" Pedro Boys & Stabbing Pedro Boys "Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic" Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic" Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you." Pedro Boys "Character Tropes" Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main" Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard" Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party" Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby" Pedro Boys "As Babysitters" Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads" Pedro Boys "in a horror movie" Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls" Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs" Pedro Boys "Playing Monopoly"

Headcanons under the cut!

Leader - Dave York. Simply put, Dave wouldn’t allow anyone else to be in charge of him, regardless if they’d be better suited for it. Some of the others follow him out of fear, others simply because they'd just prefer not to be in charge.

Brawler - Joel Miller. The muscle. Not so great with his words, much better with his fists.

Weapons Expert - Din Djarin. A bonafide space cowboy, this man has it all. Blasters, rifles, flamethrower, jet pack. Evaporating infected before they even see him coming.

Brains - Marcus Moreno. Truly the Team Leader, but he lets Dave hold the title. He has the mutual respect of everyone, is level headed and the glue that holds the whole group together. He advises Dave, but in a way that makes Dave think they’re his own ideas. Marcus doesn't need to take any credit, he just wants everyone to be safe.

Medic - Frankie "Catfish" Morales. He’s no doctor, but he's had enough basic field medical training in his military days to at least be able to patch everyone up better than anyone else on the team. He’d prefer to be the Vehicle Expert but sadly, modes of transportation in the apocalypse are hard to come by.

Moral Support - Marcus Pike. Always looking at the bright side of the apocalypse. He likes to joke “when life hands you cordyceps, make mushroom tetrazzini”.

Scientist - Ezra. Not exactly Einstein, but he knows what berries and plants are safe and which to avoid during long treks through the wilderness. He’s proven himself useful more so than not. Mostly he keeps Dieter from accidentally un-aliving himself.

Risk taker - Max Phillips. Loud and outspoken, Max's mouth is always getting the group into trouble. Good luck to any infected that tries to turn him though, his ego is so big its like a thick candy shell around the vulnerable parts of his brain.

Stealthy - Oberyn Martell. Forget sniping infected from 100 yards away, this man simply sneaks up behind them and with some flourishing footwork they're on the ground with any sharp object he could get his hands on slicing through the flesh of their throat. He's also stealthy in the way he manages to slip into the others' sleeping bags without them evening realizing at the time that they want him to, but that's a headcanon for another post...

Dumbass - Dieter Bravo. It's not that he wants to die, it's just that he seems to occasionally forget that he can't just eat the fungus as if it came in a Ziplock bag that he use to pay 40 bucks a pop for.

Badass - Javier Peña. This man just continuously takes down infected as if they might actually come to an end. He knows that as quickly as he takes down one colony, four more spring up, but he's stubborn and refuses to stop trying, regardless of how tired he is of it all.

Mascot - Javi Gutierrez. He is babygirl. To be protected at all costs.

Distraction - Jack "Whiskey" Daniels. A real root-tootin, gun-blazin cowboy. Jack never needs to be asked twice to go put on a spectacle in the middle of an open field, gathering all the attention so the rest of the group can flank all sides under brush cover. He seems to have nine lives too, narrowly escaping death more times than any other. And he can handle his own. He argued for the spot of Weapons Expert but ultimately was swayed when he realized being the distraction actually meant being the center of attention.

Stereotype - Pero Tovar. One look at this man screams "if anyone was going to survive a zombie apocalypse, it's him"

Sacrifice - Dio. Look, it was his idea. The weird part was that nobody even asked him to.

First Dead - Eddie. It's just facts. In a long line of Pedro Boys deaths, someone had to be first.

Reply or reblog with your own headcanons, I'd love to hear them :)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #dave york #dieter bravo #din djarin #max phillips #agent whiskey #javier peña #javi gutierrez #ezra prospect #oberyn martell #marcus moreno #marcus pike #frankie morales #the last of us #the mandalorian #pedro boys

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter four

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: thank you for being patient! shit is hectic in the brain right now, but fuck real life amiright? feels good to write again and to come back to these two. not a whole lot of marcus this chap, or a particularly long one, but it's all about the story building or something like that lmao. i still haven't updated my taglists so i apologise for that. if you've previously requested to be added for this story, please do so again via whatever coz my mind is all over the place and i'll forget to check the previous chapters. enjoy angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: the usual... angst, swearing, reader is a stresshead, golden retriever fbi agent who is bestie material, talk of lies/deception, brief talk of being arrested, flashbacks and the usual bitter saltiness one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The sound of water running fills the empty silence of the bathroom, steam eventually swirling up from the spray and crawling along your ceiling. You pick at the paint dried onto the skin of your fingers as you wait, exhaustion creeping along the edges of your mind with an urge to pull you under.

It’s not as if the work had been hard, in fact, you had relished in the familiar buzz of music and paint strokes. It felt refreshing, despite having a number of works to get started on. So much of your time now consisted of working to pay the bills you only just managed to keep on top of, so there was little opportunity to enjoy your creative side.

No, the stress of the art had been lovely, the whole mental gymnastics and whirlwind of emotions because of him though?

Draining.

You hope Marcus won’t make a habit of waltzing in and screwing up your day. What did he even achieve coming in to get rid of Jacob? What was the purpose of his visit? Surely not to just get you to eat. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive here.

He’s a federal agent—of course there’s a hidden agenda somewhere. 

Well you won’t fall for it. Any of it. Not again.

You would remain on your high guard around him until you finished with whatever they needed from you and then all ties would be cut. You would keep communications curt and simple—there’s no need for unnecessary small talk and chit chat. You’re here to work, and that’s it. Hopefully, it will all be over soon and you can really put it all behind you for good.

The car ride had been spent in complete silence. Your eyes didn’t waver from looking out the passenger door window, and Marcus made no effort to break the uncomfortable energy lingering in the vehicle.

You didn’t even look at him when he eventually pulled to a slow stop outside your building, barely waiting for the car to stop completely before you pushed the door open and slammed it harshly behind you.

He didn’t leave until you disappeared into your building.

The anger still lingers, even after a somewhat decent heavy sleep.

He had deceived and tricked you, again. You had briefly trusted his word, believed his empty promise, and for what? It was all bullshit. Again. It’d been a mistake. It’s all a game to him—lies are all he knows. He seemingly lies as easy as he breathes, for it all to come so naturally.

What else is he lying about, giggling with his little agent friends? Is Jacob in on it all? He seemed friendly and decent enough, and happily kept out of your way when you asked him to give you space the day before, but then again, he wouldn’t be the first man to lure you into a sense of comfort as a ruse.

To hell with all of them.

You won’t be laughed at, not again, not this time.

This time, you were on to them. This time, there was no hiding behind a pretty face, fake ID and false backstory. You wouldn’t give them—any of them—the satisfaction of watching you fall again. Marcus, Jacob, the rest of the team—they won’t break you.

—

Agent Wilson is promptly on time as expected, noticeably upbeat and bouncy, standing just outside of your door in a freshly ironed dark suit and navy blue tie, holding out a carry tray of various drinks that you try not to react to.

It’s all fake—the kindness.

It’s a lie.

“Morning, Picasso!” He grins, “I wasn’t too sure what you’re into, so I grabbed a few choices: cappuccino, tea—English Breakfast, I think?, Chai Latte and a chocolate Frappuccino with extra cream. Although, I’ve kinda been eyeing the frappe on my way here, so don’t break my heart.”

You study the selection carefully before letting your eyes roll back up to meet his bright green ones, careful to keep your face blank of any and all emotion.

“I don’t want anything—I’m not thirsty.”

He blinks at your hard tone, clearly taken aback.

You try to keep a hold of the slight twinge of guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach, carefully schooling your expression into something firmer, unbothered.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool, guess that extra cream is mine, then!”

The small slither of guilt grows at the slight look of dejection that passes over his face despite the force of the smile curling his lips, but you don’t dwell on it.

He’s one of them.

You had made sure to be ready for his knock earlier that morning, so you simply step out of your apartment with your bag over your shoulder and lock the door securely behind you, shutting him out from your space and keeping him from prying into your surroundings like he had done the day before.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

“Okay then,” he murmurs, clearing his throat softly and turning to head to the elevator. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.”

Silence follows your sharp response, and Wilson takes it as a clue to stay quiet for the rest of the trip to his car. He disposes of the drinks in a nearby trash can and the guilt doubles.

He’d gone to the effort of grabbing you a beverage, probably left his home early to ensure he could do so… maybe you should’ve just accepted one to keep the peace.

You slide into the car and buckle up, staring at the early morning events unfolding outside the windscreen as he slides in beside you and starts up the car.

It doesn’t move however, and you look to him in question, only to find him already staring expectantly at you.

A small wall of defence builds at his gaze, and you start to wonder if now will be the time he uses his authority over you and reminds you of your lowly position in this case. Maybe he’ll tell you that he knows everything, that you deserved everything you got—

“Are you pissed at me for leaving you with Pike?” He asks, and you can’t help the brief flicker of surprise. Okay, maybe not. “Look, I’m sorry—I thought he would’ve cleared it with you, but if you want, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again. I mean, I don’t have much say, but if you’re that uncomfortable I’m sure I can talk to someone—”

He’d do that? For you? You desperately try to come up with a reason why he would even bother. He’d gain nothing from it, the team wouldn’t either. What’s his play? Where’s the catch here?

Maybe there isn't one. 

A part of you refuses to believe that. The part that had been beaten and broken and had its trust torn to fucking shreds. He’s a federal agent, and they think of only themselves and their team. You aren’t a part of the team. You’re an outsider, a criminal. You’re nothing to them. 

Maybe he just genuinely wants to help.

Maybe. Maybe.

You sigh softly, and shake your head.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I’m sorry, it’s not you. I guess I just… I’m just not feeling great about this whole thing. I’ll cut back on the bitchiness.”

He shrugs it off, another smile coming easily to his lips.

“Hey, if you’ve got history then it’s understandable. Just talk to me, okay? Let me know what you want. I’m here for you, it’s my job to keep you safe and happy, and if fighting my boss is what I’ve gotta do then so be it.”

You can’t help the pull of your lips at the mere image of it in your mind.

“You’ll fight him for me?”

He scoffs lightly, “Absolutely—I can take him. Just say the word, Dalí. I’ve got your back, clear?”

“Clear,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m just not used to any of this. I uh… I don’t trust people very easily, and I’m having some difficulty adjusting to all of this.”

Understatement. It’s all a massive pain in the ass and exhausting.

“Yeah, I get it,” he replies, smiling comfortingly at you before pulling out onto the road and reaching for his drink, “but just know that I’m on your side here, okay?”

You nod quietly, not wanting to speak any more about it with someone who could be potentially relaying everything you say back to his team. Maybe they will take you down once this case is over, using the soon to be mountain of evidence as proof you’ve returned to less than legal painting activities. They’ll put you in for longer this time.

Shit, this is such a bad idea. You should’ve kept the fucking door shut the day Special Agent Pike came knocking.

You’re pulled out of the dizzying spin of your mind and its thoughts by a voice picking up in the car, breaking through the heavy dread quickly building in your system and pulling you from diving any deeper into the what ifs. 

Jacob sings along to the music, completely unbothered by your presence in the car and swaying to the tune. You’re thankful for it, in a way. Thinking for too long on any of it makes you feel sick, so this is a welcome surprise.

And also highly fucking amusing. 

“—hey Jude, refrain…”

He cuts off abruptly at your side eye, straw pausing just below his lips.

“What—you don’t like the Beatles?” he questions, almost shocked by the mere idea of it.

“I never said that,” you try to fight the smile, but it pulls at your lips before you can really help it, “I’d just rather hear them sing their song.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes and sipping his drink before licking away the smudge of chocolate building up in the corner of his lips. “You know, when I was little, I wanted to go on American Idol.”

You choke on a laugh before you can stop it. “You did not.”

“I did. Thank god I didn’t—I’m not being remembered as a fucking idiot on YouTube for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t need American Idol, or YouTube for that.”

“Shit. Ouch,” he breathes, making a show of clutching his chest and giving you a playful grin, “okay, I see how it is. Now you can get the full show… NA-NA-NAA, HEY JUDE—”

—

“You’re behind nine weeks of payments. We can’t continue—”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You knew it was bad, you had the mounting bills building at home, but surely this couldn’t be it. They can’t just kick you out. There has to be something. You’d already maxed out your credit cards, you have nothing in the bank. Maybe they could do a payment plan, organise a scholarship or loan or something—

“No, please… I-I’ll work out something, I just—”

“I’m sorry,” the administrator gives you a look of sympathy, “but we can’t continue your education until payment has been sorted. Look, you’re a bright girl, you clearly have talent—maybe you’ll do okay on your own, without classes.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is all I have, I can’t lose this. Please, there must be something I can do?”

“Unfortunately not at this point in time, unless you can come up with this amount within the weeek. I’m sorry, I’ve held this off for as long as I can, but the debt is just mounting. We can’t continue with a promise of payment.”

You’re sure you can feel your heart breaking. You’d found some semblance of normality here… going to classes, doing fun assignments, meeting new people. It was the opportunity you needed, the chance to go further—

And now there’s nothing.

You sink into the chair, fighting the tears that build and clearing your throat to rid it of the uncomfortable feeling growing there.

“I understand,” you mutter, “thank you for your time.”

“Keep your head up, sweetheart. I’ll keep a spot available should you manage to work something out, okay? We’ll get you right back into it.”

There’s no way to work it out. Your job waiting tables paid pennies. You needed something more, something concrete, but with limited experience behind you and the requirements most places wanted nowadays, there was little chance of landing anything else. There’s just nothing you can do, short of robbing a bank.

You’d been expecting it for a little while, the stress continuously mounting with every bill that was sent to your door. You knew you weren’t paying for classes, you knew the debt was growing and growing. You just thought you had more time, more opportunity.

“I appreciate that, but don’t bother—I have nothing. Your waiting lists are huge, someone on there deserves their chance.”

You had yours, and you blew it.

—

Marcus is waiting outside the building.

Of course.

Your heart starts to beat harder in your chest. What is he doing here? He pushes off of the dark SUV he’s leaning against when he catches sight of Jacob’s silver sedan, and waits for you both to get out of the car when Jacob pulls to a slow stop.

“What do you want me to do?” Jacob asks quietly, making a show of reaching for, and struggling, with his briefcase in the backseat to give you a bit of time to answer.

You try not to look at him, doing a final check of your things that you’d previously already triple checked before leaving your apartment and deciding you've probably spent too much time dawdling.

“Can you just get me up there? I want to start my work,” you reply softly, grabbing the strap of your bag and reaching for the door handle, “but there’s not really much we can do if he wants to stay around.”

The breeze bites at your cheeks when you step out of the car, and you catch Marcus smoothing down his tie as you start to walk towards him. You feel your heart thunder with each step, resenting the way he could still stir those little butterflies awake in your stomach.

He’s attractive—that’s all it is. Your body is just simply reacting to it. There’s nothing there anymore. No feelings. Nothing.

“Good morning,” he greets quietly, a strained smile curling his lips, and you briefly decide that you prefer him with a bit of facial hair rather than a clean shave.

Not that it matters.

“Hello,” you return shortly, stopping just a few paces away and waiting for Jacob to catch up.

“I’m not staying,” he mutters after a few moments of further silence, his gaze darting past your shoulder to where his fellow agent walks around his car to reach the path. “There’s been a few developments overnight, so I’ve just come to check in with Wilson and then I’ll be going to the office. I won’t be coming back.”

Your reply is immediate and blunt.

“Good.”

It’s brief, but you see the flicker of hurt that passes through his eyes.

He drops his gaze from yours, desperate to look anywhere that wasn’t you, and soon the scuffle of shoes behind you brings his attention from you completely. It’s almost fascinating how instinctively his posture changes, hardening into something of an authority figure, hiding the swirl of emotions swimming in his eyes behind high walls.

You wonder if Jacob saw it. Does he see the difference between man and agent? Does he catch the certain mannerisms that change? Surely you can’t be the only one who sees it.

“Morning, sir. We’ll talk out here,” Jacob says firmly, coming to stand beside you and holding out a small set of keys, “she has a lot of work to do this morning and she wants to start immediately.”

Marcus blinks, his gaze darting between the two of you almost questioningly before he gives a slow nod, ���Of course, that’s fine. I’ll let you get to it.”

You take the keys without another word and stride past Marcus, quickly letting yourself into the building and letting the door shut loudly behind you, dulling them to your senses and giving you a chance to breathe again.

Unrelenting heat washes under your skin, blood rushes through your ears until you can hear the heavy beat of your heart echo in the canals. You take a moment to gather yourself in the dark, quiet hallway, rubbing a hand along where your heart hammers against your chest.

When will it all stop? Would you ever be able to look at him and not feel an immediate burning sense of rage? Of bitterness? Would your mind ever forget the way he would say ‘I love you’? Would your body ever forget how he would touch you, kiss you? Would your heart ever just let it all go?

It would have to. Surely, it would have to.

Time was all you needed.

Once finished with this case, you would be once again free to move on—if you don’t end up arrested—, and forget there ever was an Alex. A Marcus. Whatever his name is. Time would take it all away. It would happen one day, you just had to be patient and wait.

-

Taglist 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

[sephirothsplaything]

WINNER TAKES ALL-chapter 2

a/n: chapter is a tad bit shorter than i'd like but I have a lot of story to spread out so womp womp. also this is my second time writing smut so..

anyways <3

TW: NSFW,MDI, did i say smut already?,reader is lowkey crazy,black fem!reader, black fem! obsessive reader,

“I need to get Marcus out of there.” Sejanus said. He was pacing back and forth anxiously in his room.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. You had been gracious enough to keep him company in his time of distress, and here he was, fretting over things that were entirely inconsequential. 

“He’s probably being transported by now Sej,there's nothing you can do.” You sighed out.

Why did you agree to come home with him after class again?

Sejanus plopped down next to you on his bed. You sat up from your position,scooting closer to him.

“All you can do is try to make it easier for him,or maybe even win.” You said reassuringly. Sejanus gave you a sharp look,almost making you inch back.

Although,you did quite like when he was like this. You liked when all the anger and frustration he felt was visible.

You also liked it when he took it out on you. 

“Maybe Coryo will know what to do.” Sejanus said. He allowed his body to fall back into the plush bed. Your eyes followed him. His need to share his thoughts with Coriolanus was strange to you.

Could he not see what you saw? Coriolanus was a vile poison.

“I doubt he’d be interested in something like that.” You said. Coriolanus did not strike you as a bleeding heart for district trash like Sejanus was.

Sejanus turned his head to look at you. Your wide,brown eyes captured him. His large hand softly ran over your knee.

“I don’t know why you hate him,you two are so similar.” Sejanus said. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were nothing like him. You were perfect and he was the dirt under your shoe.

You crawled over to him,swinging your leg over his waist in a straddling position. Interlocking your hands with his,you brought them to your waist.

“ I don’t really wanna talk about him right now.” You said. You leaned in to kiss him. Sejanus met your mouth eagerly,slipping his tongue into your mouth causing a satisfied moan to erupt from you.

Sitting up,you took a moment to savor your position. You were on top of him. The way it always should be. You’d hope that all his persisting thoughts regarding him would just disappear.

Hastily, Sejanus reached around to unzip the back of your dress. The blue fabric pooled down to your thighs. 

Leaning back slightly,you dragged your hand to his middle,his hardened bulge protruding through his pants. Humming in approval,you palmed him harshly.

“ah..” Sejanus softly moaned. His grip on your waist tightened. Sliding back,you slowly grinded yourself onto his cock.

Yes you and Sejanus were close friends. So very close. This dynamic had been going on for a while now. Sometimes you worried that Sejanus was stupid enough to read too deep into it.

You had zero desire to be his girlfriend. He wasn’t nearly ready for that yet.

And maybe he knew that.

You remove yourself from Sejanus. Protest was clear in his expression but you ignored it. Undoing his pants,you pulled down the band of his boxers to reveal the rather enlarged cock.

You rubbed your thumb over the slit of his cockhead,his precum glistening. Taking his cock into your mouth,leisurely sucking him off.

“f-fuck”. Sejanus’s moans filled the room. His hand carefully took a fistfull of your braids,pushing your head down further,completely filling your throat.

“Mmmhm,just like that angel,keep going.” Sejanus encouraged you. You thought about stopping,leaving him dry like that.

But you had a goal here. And you fully intended on seeing it though.

“Keep going.” Sejanus whimpered out.

“Please.”

You continue swirling your tongue,going to the tip of his cock once more. Sejanus harshly bucked up into your mouth,cock hitting the back of your throat.

The vibrations of your moans were getting to him. His hand reached down to your swollen pussy. In tight rapid motions, his fingers touched your clit.

Your eyes rolled,deep in pleasure. Your head was getting fuzzy. 

Sejanus continued rubbing the bud of your clit until cum dripped down your legs.

You let go of Sejanus’s cock with a pop. Sejanus rid himself of his shirt and you followed suit,along with your bra and panties.

Taking his cock in your hand,you situated yourself on top,sliding it in.

A hot moan left your lips. You took a moment to adjust.

No matter how many times you fucked him,he was still always so big. Your hands found his broad shoulders,resting there. Bouncing on his cock,the squelching sounds of your drenched pussy filled the air.

“ahh..shit.” You hissed out. Sejanus wasn’t doing any better. His eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure, letting out a long string of curses that filled your ears.

“You’re so fucking wet..shittt.” Sejanus moaned out. You had no response for him,too lost in the way his fat cock was stretching you wide open.

One of the few things Sejanus was good for. 

Sejanus’s large hands grabbed your tits,harshly fondling them. His thumb brushed over the brown sensitive bud of your areola. 

You sped up your pace,coming down on his cock,the pace sending you further into cloud nine.

Swiftly, Sejanus flipped you onto your back. You gasped out in surprise. He grabbed your legs,pushing them towards your head.

Re-entering you once more, he fucked you brutally. Clearly,he was trying to get something off of his mind. He pulled coat after coat of cream from your weeping pussy. 

“Sej..m’gonna cum.” You whined out. Your head lolled to the side. You very well might pass out.

That idea turned you on.  Your pussy tightened around Sejanus,gripping him as if he’d leave you.

You knew he never would. You simply wouldn’t allow it.

“Should I p-pull out?” Sejanus asked. It was obvious his heart wasn’t completely in it.

Your brown legs shined from the sweat,they wrapped around Sejanus’s midriff,locking him in.

“Cum in me.” You commanded. 

And he did. Long spurts of thick,hot cum shot out from his cock, hitting your cervix.

Sejanus collapsed on top of you gently,so as not to crush you. You sighed out,half of the job was done.

Your hand brushed the dark curls sticking to Sejanus’s forehead. Silence filled the room,but your brain was far from.

“Sejanus?” Your voice was soft.

“Hm?” He responded to you. 

“Do you think that Coriolanus sees the games in the same way you and I do?” You asked innocently.

Naturally,you already knew the answer. 

You heard Sejanus sigh out.  “ I think deep down,his heart is in the right place.” he said.

You thought differently. And at his response you officially made up your mind. 

Both Sejanus and Coriolanus were problems you needed to deal with quickly. You needed Sejanus all to yourself. Coriolanus would place ideas into his head that would interfere with your own. Coriolanus wanted the Plinth fortune as much as you did,you had long since concluded.

And you could not have that. But for now,you needed to focus on your new puppy.

Your Treech. You readjusted yourself to indicate that you wanted Sejanus off of you.

Sitting up in the bed,you raked your fingers through your braids. You were slow to stand,your legs slightly shaking.

One by one you gathered your articles of clothing,putting them back on.

“You’re leaving?” Sejanus asked. His tone was laced with disappointment. His parents weren't home and he was no doubt feeling lonely.

Unfortunately for him, you didn’t have room for his feelings right now. 

Adjusting your dress, a buzz from your phone indicated that your car was here.

Turning to Sejanus,you offered a small smile.

“ We have a busy day tomorrow,Sej.” You said. 

Well,you were gonna be extra busy,you were unsure about him.

Leaving him there you stepped outside,greeted by the cool night air. You wanted to reach your tribute before anyone else could. 

As you got into the back seat,you raked over ideas on how to best approach your tribute.

You’d be an idiot to think that Treech would want anything to do with you, you were Capitol after all.

You needed to make yourself look demure,like a lamb among your classmates of wolves. You wanted Treech to feel the urge to protect you from the evil manipulation of the Capitol.

You had decided on how best to proceed.

Arriving at your apartment,you entered through the gold plated doors. You lived alone. Just as you liked it. The apartment was paid for by your grandmother and you had zero complaints. 

You stripped from your clothes,leaving them on the floor for the help to pick up.

After your shower you walked around the large apartment. Your eyes landed on an apple. Grabbing it you placed it on the dresser next to your school bag. This would be your gift to Treech.

Sitting at your kitchen table,you drummed your fingers against the pristine wood. One thing that your grandmother had drilled into your head is that hunger can be used as a weapon.

But had she ever considered it can be used as a branch of goodwill? You highly doubted it.

“Mila.” You called out into the empty hall. Seconds after, your maid appeared. You weren’t sure where she was from,she was district,obviously but you never cared to ask which one.

“I need you to put in an order for some new clothes,one for a male.” You said. Mila nodded her head slowly. Food would not be enough to attain what you were after. 

If you were going to win the Hunger Games,you required an angle. 

And knew exactly what angle would be the perfect spectacle. 

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth smut #sejanus deserved better #sejanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #sejanus my beloved #x black reader #black reader #black fem reader #the hunger games #treech #treech x reader #treech tbosas #black oc #the hunger games x reader #tbosas #president snow #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #obsessive love #actually obsessive

[daydreamgoddess14]

Landslide pt. 2

MASTERLIST here

Chapter 1 here

Summary: Jason approaches a singer/songwriter about a request for Ted Lasso Season 3.

Jason Sudeikis/Reader Insert (OFC, no use of y,n/l,n)

Rating: General for now... we'll see how it goes 🤭

Disclaimer: I absolutely own none of these songs, I also don’t want to diminish Sam Ryder’s contribution in creating Fought and Lost. This is all completely fictional. I also know nothing about the music industry so this is drowning in artistic license! 

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1crFZfdqL1fspNXb80u5sK?si=e90f5f8f357b4647

It leans very Swift heavy but also has songs that I feel fit the main character and her style. I've never created a playlist for a fic before but it seemed appropriate given the main character's profession.

Songs used in Chapter 2:

Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons (https://open.spotify.com/track/2rjOBgZ6vmRhzf4AbQbbvZ?si=3cdfe7ca63294533)

I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons (cover by Matt Johnson & Amber Leigh Irish: https://open.spotify.com/track/6pZ37H5lrW2v26D9Sbx6Yo?si=0fb2b5b84b0a4c92)

Chapter 2

The blue carpet was packed full of people, you weren't entirely sure where you needed to go but followed the other guests towards the doors of the auditorium, it was one of those situations where your fame came in useful, crowds parted and support staff were always happy to make sure you were going in the right direction. 

"Why do you always look like a deer in the headlights at these things? You need a better poker face." A voice chastised behind you. You whipped round to see Marcus and Carey. Insanely grateful for familiar faces you hugged them both happily, over the moon to see them. 

"I fucking hate these things. I always feel like an imposter."

"You sold out an arena tour in a day, what the hell are you on about?!" Carey laughed. You shrugged, 

"It could all come crashing down, you never know!"

"Alright doom and gloom, here the kids wanted you to see this." Marcus handed you his phone so you could see the picture of their kids dressed up as Spiderman and Thor, wielding a ukulele and a keytar. 

"Ohhhh!" You shriek, bubbling with laughter. "They are the cutest! Clearly they take after Carey." Between the two of you, Marcus paused to wave further up the carpet, your laughter had caught the attention of some photographers. You looked over to see who he was greeting and locked eyes with the man of the hour, Jason. You managed to raise a shy smile which he returned. It felt like an eternity but was probably only about 5 seconds before you were back talking to Carey as if nothing had happened. Something had definitely happened though, your skin felt tingly, you could feel the blood in your veins heating up, and your legs felt like jelly. It was like meeting at the studio again except instead of poor Tom being the gooseberry, half of Los Angeles were. 

"We're doing a little set tonight." Marcus explained. 

"Oh nice, I haven't heard you guys for ages." You brought yourself back down to earth. 

"You could," he cooked his head with a wink, "y'know… join us?"

"No way, I'm not remotely prepared, I haven't sang live for weeks. I don't even remember half the words to your stuff!"

"Thanks mate."

"You know what I mean, It's too much pressure."

"As opposed to every other time you perform. Go onnn! It'll be fun!"

"For who?!" You try to counter, but he's winning you over. It really had been quite a few weeks since you'd last performed to an audience and you were feeling the pull. There was also that intoxicating way Jason had looked at you - the urge to do something unexpected and surprise him was pretty strong. "OK, say I said yes, who would we be pissing off - apart from my entire management team?"

"Nah, no one. No one even needs to know, we'll just tell the floor manager to get an extra mic set up and everyone else will be none the wiser. It'll be a good surprise for Tom and Jason to hear you properly live with a band." Yeah… you couldn't argue with that. 

"OK, OK, let's do it." He whooped and the three of you started moving a little quicker to the doors. You passed by a handful of the cast still having photos taken, a couple of them recognised you and a buzz went up from the photography area. You hesitated before stopping for some pictures, it was a premiere after all and you had dressed up for it in a dress which was the visual representation of exuding confidence. Confidence which you were absolutely winging at the moment in an ultimate ‘fake it til you make it’ strategy.

"How come you're here tonight?" One of the photographers shouted, “What do you think of your ex’s new girl?”

"Just a fan of the show." You smiled and posed, ignoring the second question. Once inside, Carey waved you off with a grin while you went backstage with Marcus.

~~~~~~~

"So we're doing the theme song - you don't have to do that - then in between the two episodes we're doing 2 or 3 songs while everyone has a break, then I think we'll do one after the screening as well. Happy with that?" You nod, "I'll come back to watch the first episode so you come back with me just before that ends. I'll go out as planned, introduce you and you can join us. Bit of backing, bit of melody. It doesn't matter if you really have forgotten all the words." You thank him gratefully. Back with Carey, you cheer for Marcus as he performs the theme song. At the other end of the same row, you can't help but steal a glance at Jason. He looked across to you just as your attention was drawn back to the stage. You managed to sneak out just before the end of the episode to wait for Marcus to introduce you. As expected, with only a few people knowing that you were there and no one at all expecting you to join the band on stage, the screening audience went crazy when you were introduced. 

"Hey everyone, thanks for letting me crash the party. Hope you're playing something I remember, Marmar." You tease lightly. He puts a hand to his heart, 

"Some of you may have seen us in the early 2010s on tour with my good friend here. You might remember that she used to join us for a banging version of Lover of the Light?" He looked to you for confirmation that you remembered enough to get by, and then you brought the fucking house down. With the first couple of songs under your belt, you were much more relaxed watching the second episode. It had been such a rush performing live on a total whim, it had been years since you'd done something so reckless and unpredictable regarding your music. Your phone was already blowing up in your bag with Twitter notifications - your management team would have a field day again, you still weren't exactly in the good books. Marcus had saved your favourite of his songs for last - I Will Wait. Similarly to Lover of the Light, the pair of you used to do a storming version together many, many years ago and you loved it so much that you'd recorded an acoustic version for one of your albums and you had been known to wheel it out during live shows as well. It wasn't until you were back up on the stage though that Marcus pretty much reduced his own role to backing singer and had gently nudged you to front the band. It was a damn good job you'd known them all for the better part of 15 years. Your unrehearsed, pared down version was a winner. You kept your eyes in the general direction of Carey and didn't let them stray to the opposite end of the row until the very end when you couldn't resist stealing a look at Jason any longer. He looked happy - fortunately - really happy, and you could feel your stomach tighten at the vaguely familiar notion of genuine attraction to someone. With the impromptu mini gig over, you had a quick 5 minutes with the band before heading off with the intention of finding a bar and a very alcoholic drink prior to catching up with Jason and Tom. Dutch courage was very much on the agenda. You ordered a whiskey and watched from the bar as the cast and creative team started making their way in, stopping every few seconds to be welcomed and congratulated by guests, media and family. You'd gotten talking to a couple of the writers who'd recognised you. 

"I was at your last gig in New York, it was so much fun!"

"I love shows in New York," You grinned, "I get to sleep in my own bed for a change!" 

"Ugh hotel beds are a menace. I either sleep like the dead or not at all."

"Tell me about it, buses are the worst though - be so glad you don't have to sleep on a bus! I did a week of shows in the UK last year and we were so tight on time that I'd finish a gig, go to sleep on the bus and wake up in a new city. I don't even think we bothered with hotel rooms, just drove through the night." You grimaced. Your back still hadn't forgiven you for that, and your tour manager was under strict instructions to avoid that debacle for future shows.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, congrats guys!" Jason reached in to say hello to his writing team first.

"You too boss! Have you guys met?" They gestured to you, "I had no idea Marcus was going to bring her, did you?" 

"I did know. Thanks for coming." Jason finally turned to you with a smile that made you forget your own name. 

"Thanks for the invite. And sorry for the surprise set. It was Marcus's idea." You looked up while the writers filtered away to see other people, leaving the two of you alone. You took a long drink, buying you time to compose yourself because holy shit he looked so good. You wondered if it would be better to hold the meeting at separate ends of the room and communicate via smoke signals to save your blushes.

"Oh no, I loved it! Instant validation for the request I sent to Tom and Marcus, as if hearing you in the studio wasn't enough. You sounded amazing." You wave the compliment away,

"I'm way under rehearsed, I'm still under strict instructions to lay low for a while so I haven't been in front of a big audience for ages."

"It didn't show, really, you were great. Better than Marcus."

"Stop, he'll never forgive me!" You nudged him, laughing. 

"Can we sit?" You nod and his hand brushes the small of your back, guiding you to a booth. It’s warm through the thin fabric of your dress and you could curse when your treacherous body shivers in response. 

"Congrats on tonight, it looks like it's been a huge success."

"Ahh we'll see, it's a long way to go till the end of May. How's your week been?"

"Pretty good thanks, a few meetings. Plenty of writing."

"Anything you'd like to share?" He asked curiously. 

"Not just yet,” you tease lightly, “give it another day or so and maybe. Also it might be wildly different to what Tom's expecting so I don't want to get in trouble."

“You don’t strike me as a troublemaker.”

“I’m on my best behaviour. Unfortunately. One more bad headline and-” you draw your finger across your throat.

“No way? Those headlines are not your fault - you defended yourself.”

“Hmm but there are a lot of people out there who don’t believe that I’m defending myself. They believe that I’m the problem.” He looks at your hand resting on the table near his and you think he’s about to take it, but he moves his own away at the last second. “So… troublemaker, that’s me.” You smile ruefully. 

“Well I think I’ll reserve judgment.” He does move his hand then, but not to take yours, instead it goes around you to rest on your hip furthest from him, the action sliding you across the seat a few inches closer to him. He holds your gaze, an unspoken request for permission/forgiveness. You can’t help but feel a little unsure, automatically defensive. You’d spent three years being belittled, gaslit, shamed and manipulated in every aspect of your personal life, and now you were trying to recover from that whilst simultaneously trying to prove that those things were really happening to you and that you’re not a cold, calculating and manipulative bitch. You had no idea who you could really trust, who was supporting you or who was in the pocket of your ex. It was draining trying to mentally vet every reaction, conversation and person before letting your guard down. Something in his warm eyes lets you think you can trust him though, so you lean into that and into his hand just a little. Your eyes flash down to his mouth and back again and you hope you were quick enough that he didn't notice because you hadn't meant to do it. Well, not exactly. Your time alone is cut short though when Tom comes over with more drinks. 

"So that was unexpected." He said, handing you a glass. "Brilliant, but unexpected." Jason moves his hand from behind you to take his drink from Tom. 

"Told you." 

"Hush, you. Thank you, Tom. I caved to peer pressure. Marcus bullied me into it."

"I should get him a drink then." You unlock your phone and slide it across the table, the notes app open. As it passes him, Jason tries to sneak a look but Tom grabs up the phone and reads. "Keep going, you're nearly there." He advises firmly. "Though I want to hear it, I'm in meetings all day tomorrow but record a quick voice note, give me an idea of pace and melody and I’ll think on it." 

"Can you send it to me too?" Jason asked. 

"Nope." You reply with a smirk, for a moment he looks confused. "I don't have your number. But also, I’m not about to send you a half arsed voice note just yet." You shrug. He's about to reply when a few people start milling around looking like they need him. He excuses himself and you and Tom compare some notes on the start you’ve made to the song. He next finds you back at the same table catching up with Carey.

“-I’m just saying I would pay good money to see you recreate that Tom Holland Lip Sync Battle rain dance!” Carey giggled.

“Oh god, I’d fall over and break something! Besides, I’m not built for dancing - especially not dirty rain dancing!” You reply gleefully, the giggles getting the better of you both.

“Who’s doing dirty rain dancing?” Jason grins, handing both of you a drink, “Saw you both from the bar.”

“Ahh I’ll never convince her. Maybe Marcus will do it instead.” She takes a sip of her drink, “I’m going to be so hungover on the school run tomorrow.”

“Same.” he agrees.

“I’ll come with you, I want to see the kiddos and I’ll bring the biggest coffees I can find.”

“Thanks, love. If I’m already going to be hungover I might as well finish this drink as well! Thanks Jason, and congratulations!” As the party slows and people drift off, including Tom, you talk Carey into staying for another drink, not quite willing to leave Jason’s company just yet. He’s been sitting next to you again, not so close that it would make Carey uncomfortable or would seem rude. Close enough that when he talks with his hands they brush against your arm or hand. When they’re finally still and he puts them on the seat between you both, his fingertips can catch against yours or (very bravely) ghost over the hem of your dress. Meanwhile, you’re trying to look casual, trying to act unruffled but there’s a marching band inside your body banging your heart like a bloody big drum and it might as well be bursting out of your chest like a cartoon. When Carey gets up to track down Marcus so you can share an Uber with them, he turns on the seat to face you. 

“Can I give you my number?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “For the voice note you're going to send me,” he teases.

“I’m not sending you the bloody song over WhatsApp. Tom can show you whatever he chooses, but you’ll get nothing from me until I say so.”

“Nothing at all huh?” He moves closer on the seat. You smile shyly,

“I’d strongly advise against whatever it is you think you’d like to do right now.”

“There’s a lot that I’d like to do, you might need to be more specific?” You shake your head in exasperation.

“My life is a fucking mess.”

“So is mine.”

“So you wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

“I really think I might actually want to. Might make it better.”

“The paps are-”

“Intense, rude, intrusive?”

“My ex-”

“Is a dick.” 

“Can we be serious for one minute? One minute. I don’t want you to drag you into this shitshow, my name is mud everywhere at the moment - I might as well be public enemy number one. No matter how… brief this might end up being, it’s still not fair on you, or your family, that you get associated with it all.”

“I don’t need to be, we don’t have to broadcast it.”

“I’m pretty sure they know my diary better than I do.” You counter, then pause, taking in the hat, the custom made tracksuit, the dimples. “But… I can avoid them most of the time. I try to… protect myself.”

“We could try that? Because I’d really like to kiss you before Carey gets back and you have to leave.” You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at that. The hint of a smile is enough for him to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips making you hum happily. “Wanna come to a basketball game?”

“And sit about 10 seats away from you pretending I’m not checking you out?”

“Amazing coincidence, that’s exactly what I’d be doing too.”

“I’d love to. Especially the checking you out part.” You grin. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Marcus and Carey coming back for you. “Looks like my time is up.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and opens the screen before handing it to you to add your number.

~~~~~~~~

Over the next couple of days, the tabloids seemed to wake up to your arrival in L.A, though they did at least leave you alone and keep their distance. A handful of pictures cropped up on Twitter and Instagram - you holding hands with one of Marcus and Carey’s kids, giving them a piggyback after school, some of you from the Ted Lasso premiere and one of you collecting takeout the evening after the premiere. You knew there would be photographers at the basketball game you were attending so you’d planned to go with an old friend. Despite Jason being the one to ask you to go, you knew that you’d be unlikely to even be able to say more than hello to him with so many eyes around. You sat one row back from the courtside and about 10-15 seats further along the row than Jason sat with his castmates and son. He’d sent you a message before you’d even pulled up at your apartment after the premiere, you’d replied of course and the message pingpong had been pretty regular in the run up to the game. He’d seen you arrive, he’d been loitering at the edge of the court talking while the seats began to fill up. You’d smiled and held your beer up in greeting.

You look great, I’m glad you came

Thanks, you too. This doesn’t count as a first date though.

That’s fair, I’ve got to get O home after this, but we could hang out later in the week?

Sounds good, enjoy the game

After the game, someone had pushed a ball into his hands while people were milling around the court. He’d been laughing and joking with Toheeb and Kola and you’d been perfectly happy just watching him have a good time. He took his cap off and turned it around on his head so he could better line up his shot. You had been halfway through a conversation but god fucking damn your jaw near hit the floor when he bounced a little and the ball had travelled near half the length of the court and straight into the basket. Someone had been filming it and Kola had excitedly told him to tell the camera that it had been one take. By this point, you’d long given up on talking with your friend and she watched in amusement while your words had trailed off. She followed your gaze to the scenes on the court.

“That’s emmm… that’s pretty hot.”

“I’m not usually a men doing sports type of person. In that it normally doesn’t affect me in any kind of way.”

“How you feeling now?”

“Pretty fucking affected. Jesus.” You reached for your phone while the image and the thoughts were still fresh in your mind - though there was no doubt that the visual would be there for a very long time to come. 

That was insane. I truly hope you know how hot that was because I… I’m speechless.

With the rest of the court clearing out, you took your empty beer glasses and took one last look at Jason. He spotted you so you gave a quick glance around for potential photographers before very obviously fanning yourself with your hand. He laughed and winked.

~~~~~~~~~

#jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis rpf #jason sudeikis fanfic #jason sudeikis imagine #jason sudeikis x reader

[theroseandthebeast]

Yuletide 2023 Recs, Batch One

the most wonderful time of the year is here again!

16 recs for 11th CE RPF/Crusader Kings 3, The Addams Family, Ancient Egyptian RPF, Aquaman, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Barbie the Movie, The Bear, Beyond Evil, Black Books, and The Black Tapes

Matilda di Canossa Presents: Succession Planning for Dummies, Gen, Matilde di Canossa | Matilda of Tuscany

It’s always, “dear God in heaven, Matilda, how could you have eaten the pope?” and never “how was eating the pope; did the pope taste good?”

So Nice, Gen, Pubert Addams

Pubert was a different kind of Addams. OR What happens when the golden-haired angelic baby never reverted back to his little moustachioed self.

Beloved of Aten, Amenhotep IV | Akhenaten/Nefertiti of Egypt + Meritaten of Egypt/Smenkhkare of Egypt

Meriaten is beloved. By her parents. By the Aten. All is secure and as is it should be. Her father has revealed the truth of the world. The sun disk that can clearly be seen in the sky is no secret. She is beloved. She speaks the truth of Aten.

daughter of Xebel, Gen, Nereus & Mera

Y'Mera Xebella Challa is a daughter of Xebel before she is anything else.

Happiness is a Warm Gun, Lucy Gray Baird/Coriolanus Snow

"I'm looking out for you, too. I'll find a way," he promises. Coriolanus teaches Lucy Gray to shoot a gun.

saint sebastian, filled with arrows, Lucy Gray Baird/Coriolanus Snow

Coriolanus stares at it. Then he stares at her. She can see his imprecision again, the flicker of something untrustworthy beneath all the gold hair and famous lineage. “What should I do with it?” he asks, pliant, one last bid for direction. Lucy Gray kisses him again. “Come back to me,” she orders. “Do whatever you have to do to come back to me, Coriolanus Snow.” - (Coriolanus Snow wins the 10th annual Hunger Games with the help of his mentor, Lucy Gray Baird.)

Like My Head Against A Board, Allan/Ryan Gosling's Ken

Allan lends a helping hand.

to let the next life off the hook, Margot Robbie's Barbie/Gloria

Barbie’s not the only one who has a past life. When Gloria faces hers, everything changes - for both of them.

to recreate us, Luca/Marcus

After he left Copenhagen, Marcus never thought he'd see Luca again.

maillard reaction, Sydney Adamu/Richard "Richie" Jerimovich

There’s no more restaurant to manage, no more food to cook, and Syd doesn’t really know what to do with her body, except fuck Richie, apparently.

in every heart there is a room, Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto

“Chef,” Carmy says softly, “it’s just for a few hours.” “A few hours?! A single minute of catering brunch is going to make me a suicide risk, Chef!” “I’ll be there with you. Chef.” Sydney doesn’t look like she forgives him, exactly, but her dire expression loosens up, just a little bit. In which Cicero calls in a favor, hollandaise is made, and Sydney makes a promise.

acquired taste, Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto/Luca

Before Copenhagen, there was Chicago.

Heaven Ain't Close in a Place Like This, Han Joo Won/Lee Dong Sik

Chained to a radiator in a warehouse, his lips cracking like tissue paper from lack of water, Han Juwon can admit that he might have fucked up.

Steal Your Breath Away, Han Joo Won/Lee Dong Sik

Han Juwon calls in a veritable litany of favors until he gets what he’s after: Lee Dongsik in handcuffs, alone in an interrogation room.

Three Sheets to the Wind, Manny Bianco/Bernard Black/Fran Katzenjammer

A customer mistakes Fran, Manny, and Bernard for a throuple. They start to wonder if it's true.

Unheard, Unsought For, Or Unseen, Alex Reagan/Richard Strand

Richard Strand has been in love before, of course. He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this. Three moments, throughout the course of working with Miss Alex Reagan on The Black Tapes Podcast, when Richard Strand learns that he is utterly wrong about something he thought he knew.

#yuletide #yuletide 2023 #fic recs #crusader kings 3 #the addams family #ancient egyptian rpf #aquaman #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #barbie the movie #the bear #beyond evil #black books #the black tapes #fic rec

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26

Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.

Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.

Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.

Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.

Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”

Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.

“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close. 

Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”

Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”

Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”

Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”

“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.

“How achey?” Bishop asked again.

“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.

There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.

“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.

“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”

“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette. 

“Well, the money was nice too.”

“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”

“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.

“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”

EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.

Taza agreed. “You two fuck up  this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”

Both brothers nodded solemnly. 

It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance. 

The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm. 

THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.

“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying. 

Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”

Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”

Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”

Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”

“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”

EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”

Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”

Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”

“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.

Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.

Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them. 

“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers. 

Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”

EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”

Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket. 

“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.

Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”

Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”

Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward. 

Megan turned to look at Taza. 

“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her. 

Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.

The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something. 

“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated. 

“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said. 

The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool. 

The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment. 

As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her. 

“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her. 

“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in. 

“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.

“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”

Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”

Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”

An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.

Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch. 

Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it. 

Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”

Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused. 

Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster. 

Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong. 

Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly. 

Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made  no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot. 

Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling. 

Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.” 

Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her. 

Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f

As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made. 

“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted. 

“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”

Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”

Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”

Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”

Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”

Megan lit up further “Really?”

“If your papa doesn’t mind.”

Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.

“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated. 

“I promise, Papa.”

“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”

Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”

“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”

They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her. 

At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.

“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”

Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.

“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”

“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”

Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”

“That’s why the women love me.”

Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”

Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”

Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”

They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.

Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.

“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.

Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”

“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,

“Among other things,” Megan agreed. 

“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.

“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.

Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee. 

“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.

Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”

Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”

Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”

Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch. 

Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”

Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”

“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.

Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”

They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.

“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”

Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”

Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”

He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”

“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”

“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”

Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”

“Good point.”

Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”

“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”

Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out. 

“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.

Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”

Marcus nodded. 

When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.

taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

If you would like to be added to the taglist - please let me know.

#lost princessa #mayans mc #meet the reaper #taza x daughter!oc #lost princessa sequel #che taza romero #hank loza #megan(oc) x hank #mayans mc fanfic #bishop losa #marcus alvarez #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #neron creeper vargas #creeper vargas #gilly lopez #gilly mayans #ez reyes #angel reyes #(oc) Rex the doggy

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Redacted Incorrect Quotes

I have more redacted stuff on my profile in case you're interested, but I can't link the masterlist on this. It's in the pinned post though.

---

Honey: I can't think when he's around!

Sunshine: Ah, young love.

Honey: No! He's as loud as fuck and I can't form a thought when someone is screaming fucking Bohemian Rhapsody in my ears!

---

David: Tell me. Do you plan out all the dumb stuff you do? Or does it just come naturally?

Asher, staring at the flaming toaster: I plan, but it never goes how I want.

---

Brachium: You don't know me?

Elliot: No. Should we?

Brachium: Probably? I mean, I know you.

---

Darlin: I have a man I think we should kill.

David: We don't kill on personal matters.

Darlin: I know. That's why I'm telling you, because if you agree with me it's a green light.

---

David: Are you seriously arguing with me about this?

Angel: Yeah. What are you gonna do? Cry?

---

Darlin: You haven't seen my at my worst, cowboy. And you haven't had a chance to see me at my best yet.

Sam: And I never will if you don't get off the fucking counter with a rubber duck!

---

Warden: Please tell me you didn't just shove someone off a bridge.

Vega: Listen, they were threatening me. It was self defense!

Warden: You laughed when they hit the water! It was a 50 foot drop!

---

Cutie: Wow. You're being really stupid.

Sweetheart, trying to see if they can summon Cam with a squishmallow: You're one to talk!

Cutie: Well yeah! I'm the stupidest one here! If I can tell you're being stupid, what does that say about you?

---

Damien: Tell me you aren't going to cause problems...

Freelancer: I'm afraid I can't do that.

---

After the Kody incident:

Damien: You got a free ride to the best magic school on the continent and you've decided to put all your energy into being sent away?? Why!?

Freelancer: Look, I don't know what to tell you. I hate it here and everyone sucks.

---

When they first met:

Angel: Do you like me?

David: I'm going to be totally honest with you. I have no idea who you are.

---

Asher: You have a mate! That's awesome!

Darlin: Yeah... It was an accident, trust me.

---

Cutie: Tell me something you haven't told anyone else.

Geordie: ... No?

---

Asset: You okay?

Marcus: Gonna cry actually! Thanks for asking!

---

David: What makes you think this animal is sapient?

Asher: He watches me work!

Milo: And my cat watches TV. It's not a sign of sapience.

---

Honey: Who are you?

Guy: Hell if I know. I just work here.

---

Sam: Why do you have so many kids?

David, sighing: I made the mistake of feeding them once and now they won't leave.

---

Milo: I'm telling you right now, Sweetheart, if I see a ghost, I'm not sticking around to see if you live.

Sweetheart: Love you too asshole.

---

Baabe: So what are your thoughts on David?

Angel: He's a bitch and I like him.

---

Sam: Be sure you've thought this through. Once you go through with this, there's no turning back.

Darlin: I am aware and have made my decision. Get fucked!

---

Sam: Why are you here?!

Darlin: Revenge.

Sweetheart: Same.

Baabe: Hanging out with friends.

Angel: I was promised chaos.

---

Darlin: You'd think that all I want to do is cry. You would be incorrect. All I actually want to do is commit heinous acts of violence on the general populous.

#redactedverse #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted incorrect quotes #redacted shaw pack #redacted david #redacted asher #redacted angel #redacted milo #redacted baabe #redacted babe #redacted sweetheart #redacted vega #redacted warden #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted cutie #redacted geordie #redacted honey #redacted guy #redacted freelancer #redacted damien #redacted asset #redacted marcus #redacted elliot #redacted sunshine #redacted brachium #maybe ill use these as prompts #maybe not #who knows anymore

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 12

Hi friends!!

I read a certain dark romance book this week and then also spent some time trying to catch up on all my lovely mutuals' fics (and there were many), so the rec list is only like 9 fics this week. I guess that's still a lot? It's no 27 fics though.

If you tagged me in a fic this week, I'm planning to get to those soon I promise. The actual spreadsheet with all my recs can be found here and the masterlist for my fic recs can be found here.

Anyway recs below the Pedge

Adversity a Frankie/Ezra series by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

This combo... okay I'll just start with how unreasonably HOT this is. Like you got Ezra: protective, talkative, wild, a little feral, definitely likes to use his mouth, lean and impeccably dressed with that dumb little blond patch. Then you have Frankie: Established Canon Pussy Eating King, def talks you through it, broad shoulders and a cute belly, patchy beard you'd just die to have between your legs, broody boy. So obviously, I'm already about to pass out. And then!! Their relationship with each other makes me feel so many things. The way Ez pulls Frankie out of his fucked up head and the way Frankie settles Ezra UGH. And then!!! and then!!!!!!! The way they take care of reader and the way they all love each other and balance each other out!! The hints of the other TF boys in there is v fun also. I know this series is old, but I am dying for it to be added to. Every glimpse into this wonderful lil throuple was wonderful. <3333

i've got headaches and bad luck but they couldn't touch you - a Joel one shot by @tremendum

Brat tamer!Joel is sooooo fucking hot. This is filthy and I love it!

warmth - a Joel one shot by @grippingbeskar

ooooh i love how at first this is just a sweet lil fluffy thing and then you put *you can stop reading here if you aren't a whore. however, i am, so i will continue* LMAO. I'm obviously a whore so I obviously kept reading. This one is for my thigh riding girlies <333

the worthwhile fight - a Marcus P one shot by @swiftispunk

So glad you decided to write some sweet angel baby Marcus P!! And I love the lil twist with reader being the protective one, because.... I actually cannot see Marcus punching anyone. Like I'm sure he would if he had to, but in my head he's such a soft boy I can't. The smut, as usual, was just absolutely immaculate. Looking forward to more marcus from you maybe...???? (please)

Sparks fly - a Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Ok listen... This is the second anal fic I've read in as many weeks that made me have emotions other than filth... How do y'all keep doing this to me. The story is adorable, I love it!! And then they eat each other's asses and it's hot and it's a good time. Honestly I'd still give this a shot if you're not into the idea of eating Joel Miller's ass bc there's a bunch of super cute interactions and some smut before that happens... If you're a freak tho... this is the one

Just a little taste - a Din one shot by @jksprincess10

I fucking love inexperienced!Din and I love when he tastes pussy for the first time and just goes absolutely nuts. This was so hot ugh.

Fire a Din one shot by @jksprincess10

Din Djarin Fluff Supremacy

Hungry Hearts - a Joel series by @atinylittlepain

Young Joel... in booty shorts... playing baseball??? Being a gratuitous flirt and a total asshole in the most frustratingly charming of ways?? Ok and then... he's also a MECHANIC... Slutty Joel is everything. Oh but let's not stop there! We also get girl dad Joel being the most stereotypical softball parent ever. Sarah and Ellie being so very Sarah and Ellie about the whole thing. Also like if you needed more incentive for some reason Joel gets hit in the balls while being a douchebag. I feel like I'm not selling this as well as I should be, but I don't want to give too much away. It's delightful. Read it!!

Peace - a Joel one shot by @swiftispunk

As a former John Green novel SIMP, I love the living eulogy thing. It has a special place in my heart and I refuse to apologize for that. This fic had me tearing up bc like... Joel Miller deserves to hear how good he is and how much he means to people and he doesn't really ever get that in canon. Not really. I am going to have a literal breakdown bye

----------------oldies but goodies----------------

The Appreciation of Fine Liquor - an Ezra one shot by @write-and-buried

poor baby - a Joel series by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Just a little game - Javi P one shot @walkintotheriveranddisappear

quickie (boyfriend's dad!joel x reader) - a Joel one shot by @joelscruff

𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 - a Dieter one shot by @psychedelic-ink

warm up - a Dieter one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Dieter Bravo x Library AU - a Dieter one shot @fuckyeahdindjarin

Bouquet, Bloom, Blossom - a Dieter series by @mypoisonedvine

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

Happy Reading

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Pedro’s Birthday Bash Drabbles

In celebration of Pedro’s birthday, I’m doing drabbles for his characters. Below will be the list of his character's I'll write for as well as prompts.

Send in a character and a prompt, and I will write a drabble for them! <3

Happy birthday to the man who's kept me from ending it all lmao!

Characters:

Oberyn Martell

Marcus Pike

Max (Bloodsucking Bastards)

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Dave York

Francisco "Catfish" Morales

Maxwell Lord

Marcus Moreno

Din Djarin

Javi Gutierrez

Dieter Bravo

Joel Miller

Prompts:

"I would love to spoil you, can I do this for you?"

the other knows everything about your home/hometown/people you meet everyday bc they remember every detail you tell them

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "So what're you going to do about that?"

putting an arm around the other's waist

"you really planned this?! remind me how you're single again?"

person A cancels a date to hang out with person B because person B had a bad day

softly dusting crumbs/wiping food off their face when they're eating

"i brought you flowers." "why?" "does there have to be a reason?"

taking a bubble bath together

"What part of 'I want you and only you' do you not understand?!"

two beds but only one blanket

"fuck you." "just tell me the time and place."

brushing a strand of hair away

character A has a nightmare and character B provides company so A feels safe again

"I think you're...too much." "...Oh. I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I love it."

character A frowning but as soon as they lock eyes with character B, they're smiling wide

"You're beautiful." "Yes, the bed head and morning breath really scream runway model ready, eh?"

sniffing their hair and complimenting the scent of their shampoo

"I missed you." "Don't say things like that or else I'll bend down and propose right now."

kissing in the middle of the aisle of a store

"You're an angel from above." "You're drunk." "Am not." "Are too. You get way too flirtatious when you're drunk."

character B is traveling for something and character A sends them messages of things that reminds A of B

"Fuck, I love you so much I just might reach into my chest and offer my heart to you right now." "Wow...that's...graphically morbid and yet romantic"

giving each other small smiles across the room

"goddammit, why do you have to be so stubborn?" "dunno. but you love me anyway." *sighs* "yeah, i do."

character A interrupts character B's talking with a kiss

"you're so beautiful, it's incredibly distracting and I don't know how I can continue working now."

pulling them onto their lap

"What's up?" "To be completely honest, I was going to confess my love to you but it looks like you're busy so..."

they lick their lips before kissing you and confessing their love

#pedro pascal #din Djarin x reader #Francisco morales x reader #Oberyn martell x reader #Marcus pike x reader #javi Gutierrez x reader #dieter bravo x reader #joel miller x reader