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#oscar isaac
pedrorascal · 9 hours
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#babygirlcore
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ozarkthedog · 1 day
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃
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summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.
pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.
warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k
author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.
huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
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The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 
Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.
What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 
When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 
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It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 
Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.
An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 
His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.
He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 
“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 
His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 
The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 
The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.
Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.
You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.
He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.
You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 
Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”
You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”
Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   
He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.
A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 
“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.
“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.
He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”
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You were truly and utterly fucked. 
It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.
You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.
A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.
Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 
“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 
“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 
Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.
Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.
You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   
“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.
Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”
You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 
You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.
You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.
You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”
“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.
You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 
He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.
“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."
The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.
“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”
You wanted to scream. 
“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.
“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"
It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 
“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”
You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.
“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.
You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.
“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.
Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”
“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.
“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.
You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”
“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.
His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”
“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.
Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.
“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.
Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”
You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 
“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.
You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.
“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 
Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 
Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”
The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  
 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”
The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.
Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 
His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 
Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."
In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 
“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 
“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”
Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.
You forgot about the other man in the room. 
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 
He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.
Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 
His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  
Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 
You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 
“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”
Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 
Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.
You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.
Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 
Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 
When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 
Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.
You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.
Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.
It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.
A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 
Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 
"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.
Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 
Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 
It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.
“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.
Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 
You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 
You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.
They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 
Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 
“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 
Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 
He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 
You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.
“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.
"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.
"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 
Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.
You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.
He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 
"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.
"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 
You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.
He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"
The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.
“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 
He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 
You nod quickly under his grave stare. 
He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 
He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 
He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.
You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.
Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
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feel free to scream at me -> 💌
*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*
->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-
follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!
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Rydal Oscar being a cutie 😊
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estellaestella · 1 day
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Father I found my way to it 😌
Oscar Isaac in INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS (2013) // Timothée Chalamet in A COMPLETE UNKNOWN
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nkp1981 · 2 days
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Oscar Isaac On The Set Of "The Force Awakens"
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yesttoheaven · 2 days
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I watched DUNE PART 2 today and I felt like a widow 😭 THAT'S NOT FAIR!!!
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my-secret-shame · 3 days
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ominoose · 3 days
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𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
Pairing: Android!Nathan Bateman x GN!Depressed!Reader Summary: Your therapist advises you buy an android as a companion. He's a pain. Warnings: None, just fluff. WC: 1.5k Thank you @jinjersnapz for beta reading :*
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The moment he stepped out of the box you wanted a refund. Thinly veiled disappointed creased his eyebrow and tugged down his lips as the android, Nathan, took in the cabin. It wasn't much, that you'd concede, wooden floors, walls and roof with a bathroom, office, kitchenette, living room and bedroom. The basic rooms filled with what one needed to live, or as your therapist called it “bare essentials” and “not willing to take up your own space”. Bullshit, essentially.
And now the result of not listening to said bullshit was taking in your abode like it was a one star Air BnB that posted fake five star reviews. He probably wanted a refund as much as you. That was an accurate description of life since he was shipped into it, ‘I want a refund.’
“You're wasting time.” Said the most annoying alarm clock since the creation of alarm clocks.
You only responded by turning over and pulling the covers over your head before they were ripped off the bed and cold air attacked your now exposed and cold skin.
“Stop spending all your time in bed just to go bitch to your therapist about how you're worthless and your life has no meaning. Either get your ass up or I'll dismantle the bed and hide the screws.”
The petty, blunt asshole would. Last week he messed with the dryer's wiring, leaving your bed sheets wet until you finished your book (that he'd recommended, ordered on your Amazon and held you at laundry point to read), citing “intellectual enrichment” as the reason.
Getting out of bed was rewarded with him asking for a cup of coffee while he worked out (apparently the extra use of his metal tendons strengthened them over time), knowing full well he'd only complain about it being cheap. It was a hellish routine, but a routine nonetheless,  as your therapist annoyingly felt the need to point out every session. Begrudgingly, you'd also be forced to admit it was the truth. He got you out of bed, engaging with the house, energizing yourself and having some sort of start for the day. 
“Why don't we go out for a hike?” Nathan rounded you to grab the steaming cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste. 
Broad shoulders rolled openly, clad in simple grey tank top and black joggers. Despite knowing he had no skin, no actual flesh underneath the tanned synthetic layers stretched over his biceps looked soft enough to bite. Not that you'd let the android know.
“A hike? Outside? Today?” The spontaneous request caught you off guard, already openly reluctant. 
The deadpan stare he gave you behind the silver frames wasn't fond. 
“You live in Butt-Fuck Nowhere and want to just sit in this shitehole. Wasting your innate opportunity to explore nature's beauty.”
“Yeah, I do. Have a fun hike Nathan.” That statement was meant to be closed by you swiftly turning and walking back to your room, but a warm, calloused hand gripped your arm sternly and rooted you to the spot.
“How am I meant to have fun if you aren't there to bug? A walk in nature is an easy hack to ease your disease riddled brain and you don't take advantage of it. It's a wonder androids haven't taken over yet.” 
The way he refused to handle you and your depression like a porcelain doll was something you loathed to love about him. How odd that an arrogant android treated you with the most humanity.
“I'll upload a virus into your cloud if you don't let me go, see who has a ‘disease riddled organ then.”
“An STD threat, how cute. Try successfully updating your Sims mod folder and I'll personally walk you through the virus myself.” Logically, there shouldn’t be a lively spark in his eyes, but it was there all the same, goading you into spats with him, time and time again.
“I bought you, the least you could do is fix my Sims!” Another thing you hated needing from him was the way he fed and stoked your fire, turning you from dying embers to a roaring bonfire. It always happened before you were aware of it, always when he got that cocky smirk as if this was exactly what he wanted.
And following routine he simply walked away, rolling those ridiculously handsome shoulders to add salt to the wound and leaving you to seeth.
“Hurry up and get ready.”
When you finally crested the hill, sun shining down through dark pine trees, birds chirping around you, part of you conceded it was worth it. The other part was whining over the stitch aching at your side.
“God I feel like death.” The panting breaths came out as a fog in the cold forest, but Nathan paid no mind to the temperature or your whining. 
You never once questioned his ability to enjoy the cold whistle of the wind, whether or not he could feel the numbing chill in his finger tips. Why did it matter why his favourite spot was the waterfall, always cold no matter the season, a hint of a smile plucking at synthetic lips when the mist tickled his beard. It didn’t occur that it should matter, but it was noticed by him the way your mouse didn’t entertain the news articles discussing the ethics of how closely androids now resembled a human, drawing comparisons to fictional history of Dune.
Nathan knew more than anyone that you weren’t the academic, whizzkid genius he was. Your mind physically could not scramble through numbers and piece together advanced mathematic equations. You weren’t book smart, but it wasn’t something he considered lacking. 
You dismissed stupid opinions (like the aforementioned article) as if they didn’t exist to you as easily as you stood toe to toe with him to defend other stupid opinions (Aristotle was just some annoying old guy). You were acutely aware of your depression, the way your mind functioned against you and plodded on, taking it in your stride your own way.
As you keeled over, huffing out cold whisps, his dark brown eyes scanned every inch of you. There was no part of you he hadn’t cataloged and stored carefully in his memory banks, no quirk or habit was unfamiliar to him. Yet it always felt like a small surprise to see them unfold in the intimate privacy of the small bubble you both shared.
“Why’re you staring? You better not say I told you so, I’ll ship you back and enjoy going back to my solitude inside.” 
“You wouldn’t have to be alone. You’re pretty enough to coax someone into your little hovel.” Said like a passing comment on the gathering clouds.
“Pretty?” Said as a reaction, completely caught off guard.
“Yeah? How many times do we need to go over how your mind will distort how you perceive reality before you finally listen to me, sweetheart?” How was he managing to still be so condescending while arguing about how beautiful you were, how the softly filtered sunlight through the trees settled against your hair like the sun was made to do just that
No wonder humans had wasted so much time on artsy poetic bullshit since the BC’s, beauty really could be all you had the capacity to think about.
“Based on what? I thought you didn’t abide by societal constructs Mr Bateman?” It was a shoddy attempt at acting normal, but the supercomputer android would’ve already noticed the quiver in your voice and the red dusting your face. Maybe if you pretended you didn’t know he could do that, he just wouldn’t. 
“I’m abiding by my standards.” His eyes stared right into you. The words words hit you right in the stomach, no time to brace.
And he takes advantage of the hesitation.
“We both know I’m capable of noticing when you ogle me when I work out. We both know I'm equipt to sense when your heart rate picks up, which it does every time I lean over your shoulder to correct your shitty work. We both know I can literally measure the heat in your cheeks right now, want me to?” 
The speed at which your head shook had your hair lashing your face, something that only grew his smirk.
“You sure?”
“Fuck yo-” 
His lips were warm when they cut you off, subtly soft in contrast to the calloused hands cupping your face. Your mind instantly jumps to satisfaction that you’d been right in your assumption about the feel of his lips until the actual realisation that he was kissing you kicked in, and by that point he was already pulling away. You didnt even have time to savour how the cold metal of his glasses pressed against your nose.
“Lets go, it’s gonna start pissing down and I hate fogged up glasses.” 
Nathan was already walking back home, back turned until he realised you weren’t already trailing after him. He turned. You were still staring, lips slightly parted and wide eyed, not yet finished processing what had happened. His smirk turned soft.
“C’mon sweetheart, I need my shitty cup of coffee.”
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valsnotgothstuff · 1 day
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duke leto, stilgar, gurney halleck and more lady jessica fics??
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and for reader not be related to irulan and or an atreides lol
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eyelessfaces · 2 days
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he stinks of llewyn energy in those
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and I'm here for it
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Play Pretend
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Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •
Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.
🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜
A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.
Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 4909
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Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him. 
He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together. 
He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.
There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close. 
It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own. 
He shifted again. Maybe he could-
“You okay?” 
He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’. 
You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?” 
“Hmmhmm.” 
For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that? 
“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold. 
“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?” 
You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants. 
“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.” 
You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.” 
“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.” 
You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it. 
He shivers. You know what you’re doing. 
“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle. 
“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary. 
While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him. 
He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him. 
Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”
You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words. 
“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.” 
“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say. 
He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake. 
“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.” 
The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers. 
“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?” 
Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince. 
“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?” 
“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”
He raises an eyebrow at you. 
“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.” 
Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”
You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.” 
He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.” 
You stroke his cheek as he talks.
“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”  
You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time. 
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” 
As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.
“You could never disappoint me, Jake.” 
He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?” 
“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.
“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”
“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease. 
Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands. 
“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter. 
“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.” 
You grin and kiss his nose. 
“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning. 
“You want me to…?”
He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”
You smile cheekily. “You watch?” 
He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” 
“Almost all the time.” 
“Almost?” 
“99.9%.”
“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice. 
“I’m sleeping.” 
His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly. 
“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again. 
“You don’t mind?” 
You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”
“I’m definitely not doing that.” 
“Steven won’t care.” 
Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.” 
You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment. 
“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.
He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.” 
You tut.
“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.” 
You poke your tongue out at him. 
Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.”  He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction. 
You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive. 
“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?” 
Jake nods once. 
“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”
“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily. 
You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”
“Driving’s not very comfortable.”
“Jake-”
“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”
“Jake-”
“And everyone’s an asshole.”
“Okay, that’s true.”
He grins. 
“But, humour me, yeah?” 
He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.” 
“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”
“I’m on the wrong side.”
“Jake.”
“I’m on your left.”
“Well, we’re in America now.” 
“How did we get here?”
“Jake.”
“Did we fly?” 
“Jake.” 
“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”
You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective. 
He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth. 
You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous. 
He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips. 
“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked. 
“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his. 
You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants. 
You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you. 
His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck. 
You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing. 
Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly. 
You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down. 
Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time. 
The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him. 
Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue. 
You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.
He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy. 
You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. 
“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold. 
Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing. 
You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.
Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides. 
You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue. 
He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth. 
“This okay?” You ask between licks. 
“Yes, ah,  yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.” 
“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds. 
You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily. 
“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air. 
His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat. 
He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush. 
Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly. 
Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips. 
“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth. 
He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you. 
He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around. 
You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.
“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.” 
You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches. 
When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering. 
“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?” 
You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning. 
“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.
You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.” 
He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture. 
“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh. 
“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside. 
“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy. 
“You.” You manage to stammer out.
“Me?” 
“You.” 
“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. 
You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls. 
He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.
Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you. 
“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.  
“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back. 
You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore. 
You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on. 
He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal. 
He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock. 
He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.
Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge. 
“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time. 
A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat. 
He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again. 
You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain. 
“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly. 
He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly. 
“Fuck, Jake, I-”
He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace. 
When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch. 
He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear. 
You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises. 
You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.
Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-
Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair. 
“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words. 
He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air. 
His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity. 
“Please what?” You whisper. 
Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.
You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips. 
With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?” 
It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement. 
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”
“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before. 
“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”
You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his. 
“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down. 
Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside. 
He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still. 
You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?” 
He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.” 
“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.
But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”
“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”
He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly. 
He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage. 
His fingers don’t falter though. 
The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second. 
You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.
His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour. 
“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly. 
You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still. 
You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 
You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans. 
“Amor…”
“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same. 
He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace. 
The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin. 
Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again. 
“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it. 
You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”
“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.
The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. 
Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”
It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants. 
You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend. 
He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe. 
And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe. 
“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you. 
He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.” 
You snort. “Oh, do you?” 
“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.” 
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gt-icons · 2 days
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tsunami-watch · 3 days
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Outrunning Karma
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Main Story: 1 
Summary: V meets Nathan, the beginning of our adventure. 
Ships: (Nathan Bateman x F!V!Reader) 
Word count: 1767
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“This could be big for you, don’t fuck it up.” Rogue’s warning rang in V’s mind as she entered the conference room.
The room was monochromatic with minimalist decor, nothing really clueing her in to who this “Nathan Bateman” guy was. No personal effects or awards, just some plant that looked fake in the corner and a geometric table with two chairs. She scans the room, finding nothing of note, just a security panel and a thermostat. She shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs, tapping the table under her fingers. She had gotten from Rouge was that this guy was “Unlike any other corpo.” and that could mean anything. She sighs and leans back in her chair as she looks up at the paneled ceiling, after a brief moment of pretending to play tic-tac-toe with its gridded pattern she’s startled by a low voice.
“Anything interesting up there?” She jumps slightly and turns quickly in her seat about to curse out whoever scared her when she’s face to face with him. She’s surprised by  the man in front of her, not a scrap of visible chrome on him. She starts up her scanner for a habitual scan, but before she can even get a glance at the info, he vanishes from her field of view in the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of wind whipping across her face from the movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan’s voice comes from around the corner. 
V instinctively flexes, Mantis blades springing into action, she takes a defensive stance, anticipating the worst.
“Woah, chill honey. Not gonna hurt you.” Before she could even react, her blades retracted, plates shuffling and closing back to their inactive state.
“What the- How did…?” She felt significantly less chill. 
“So, can we talk or are we gonna keep this back and forth going for a while longer?” Nathan asks. 
“I’m happy to talk, I don’t know why you vanished in the first place.” She stands up straight again and leans on the table, Nathan comes back around the corner.
“Trust me, you don’t want to randomly scan me like that, just might end up another fried corpse in a trash heap if you’re not careful.” Nathan stands in front of her and relaxes slightly. “Now go ahead.” She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask anything further as she proceeds to scan him. As she's skimming over his NCPD file she's surprised to see his middle name vanish from the file in real time, glancing back at him it appeared he had been following along her reading. 
"Much better." He mutters
"Hamlet? Really?" She chuckles. 
"We don't talk about it." He crosses his arms with a sigh.
“Noted.” She looks around the room again, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, what's the deal? You’re definitely not like the other CEOs of megacorps, pretty sure most of them don’t even look the mercs who do their dirty work in the eye, much less invite them into their freakishly minimalist space.” Nathan laughs.
“I guess you could say I’m not like the others.” He walks past her and sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. She sits down, her eyes still trained on him. Rogue wasn’t wrong, he was different from any other corpo she’d ever met, Ditching the expensive restricting suits for a soft waffle-knit white sweater and some dark slacks, his head shaved, and a full well groomed beard. After a longer examination she could tell he didn’t have any optic enhancements either, somehow wiring the typical display functions of cyberoptics to the silver wireframe glasses perched upon his nose, leaving his eyes a natural deep brown, which was almost unnerving, she was so used to the bright artificial colors and slight glow that most had, seeing pure natural eyes, she understood what all those old poets meant by the eyes being the windows to the soul. Nathan gives her a slight smirk, leaning forward in his seat with interest. “Not every day I meet someone who knows nothing about me.” 
“Sorry, don't mean to bruise your ego.” She says leaning back in her chair, keeping a comfortable distance between them. 
“No, No…I quite like it. You have no expectations, you aren’t expecting some genius bullshit that blows your mind. It’s nice, no performance, no need to please or meet some expectation of grandeur.” Nathan also takes the time to examine her more closely. Sure, she was here to do a job for him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It's not often someone who looks like that waltzes in, toned muscle and soft skin fading into the harsh telltale lines of combat cyberware, fire in her cybernetic eyes. He blinks lazily, taking a second to refocus. “Alright, the gig should be easy enough. I just need you to get something for me, and if necessary, zero the choom who has it.” She’s slightly taken aback in his casual choice of words but nods. 
“Okay, what exactly am I looking for?” She asks, her eyebrow raised slightly. 
 “Long story short, a Braindance. I got drunk at a party and a doll got a BD of a conversation I had, where I gave up some information I shouldn’t have. I can’t have that getting around, top secret shit.” She watches Nathan talk, as much as she was listening to the details of the gig she was amused by the way he talked with his hands, the expressions he makes, she couldn’t help but feel at ease with him, not something she had felt so easily with anyone in a while. Nathan had picked up on that feeling, her body language going from tense and on edge to seemingly relaxed. Her shoulders lowered, her head tilted to the side a bit, ankles crossed in front of her. She had let her guard down just a little bit, the corners of his lips turning up slightly in a smile. “It should be simple, get the BD, by whatever means necessary.”
“Seems easy enough, who am I looking for?” 
It was jarring to have information transferred without seeing the familiar blue flash from the optics of the transmitter. “Amethyst Bronte.” Her NCPD database file didn’t have anything notable to speak of besides a tie to The Mox, which was not unusual for a doll. 
“Sure it’s her? She seems remarkably…unremarkable in her records for an NC citizen.” V did another once over of the squeaky clean file. “Only offense was trespassing…to feed stray cats on private property. This upstanding citizen if NC’s ever known one, snagged a BD of you giving up classified info? Choom-”
Nathan quirked a brow at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Another tab appeared in V’s view, the ice blue backdrop and text looking oddly familiar, as she skimmed through the extensive file including images, video, and audio attached that did not seem like they were recorded with the subjects’ knowledge. This file painted a very different picture of Amethyst, a data broker who sold information to corps and gangs alike for the highest offer, the file even included insights into her personal life, broken family, little to no friends to speak of, just trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. “Thought you’d know better by now than to judge a BD by its title, choom.”
“Where- The fuck? How did you even get this much information? I know the place this was taken, there’s no cameras-” He silently stared, waiting patiently as realization dawned upon V. “No, no, they’re real? Those fucking, conspiracy theories about Tsunami?”
“Tsunami Watch.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair, expression only describable as with the pride and arrogance of a man who thought himself to be God. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from other corpos after all. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about all that, just enjoy the extra deets.” Nathan waves dismissively, she doesn't know how to feel about the sharp contrasts of emotion he’s made her feel in the short timespan she’s known him. She shakes it off with a hesitant nod, she needs to focus on the job, get through this and get home. That's what matters. 
“Sounds good, I’ll keep in touch.” V says calmly as she stands up and gets ready to go.
“Oh and V, be careful. You never know who's watching.” 
It took over a day to track down this Amethyst character even with the additional deets provided, despite having her life in a neat file she posed more of a challenge than V initially expected. When V finally found her, it was in amongst the pounding beats and sweaty bodies of the most popular club in Night City, Riot. As she entered the establishment she was greeted by the familiar sound and sight of Johnny’s engram flickering into existence, leaning against one of the lobby’s brutalist concrete walls.
“You should try taking me somewhere this nice sometime V.” He snarked with his usual tone of arrogance-riddled sarcasm. V rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing past as he flickered out of view. She decided to observe Amethyst from afar, having spotted her bright purple streaked hair through the crowd, chatting with someone as she moved to the beat. Calculating her next move, V carefully moved to the bar flagging down the bartender, watching out of the corner of her eye as Amethyst approached the opposite end of the bar. Perfect timing. 
“A shot of house tequila, neat, and whatever she’s drinking.” She said tilting her head in the direction of the other woman. The bartender silently nods in acknowledgement, pouring and setting the drink in front of her with the flourish of practiced efficiency before turning to get Amethyst's order. V knocks back the shot, letting the familiar feeling of the burning amber liquid ignite upon her tongue as it slides down her throat. It was only a moment before Amethyst approached, holding her own drink of a dreamy pink and purple hue.
“Thank you for the drink Miss V, I think I have something you’re looking for.” She smiled as she slid what looked to be a metallic cigarette case across the table, motioning for V to open it. V cocks an eyebrow at her before cautiously popping the case open to find a datastick and a handwritten note, a mix of shock and irritation crossing her face as she reads the note.
“You passed. Congrats. -N”
~
Masterlist
Credit: @winniethewife @burymesanti
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Farce force or fast force?
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onevolon · 3 days
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Idk why but this is my favorite "normal" photo of him
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nkp1981 · 3 days
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Oscar Isaac As Peter Malkin In "Operation Finale", 2018
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