#Venture Whisky

[ringo-stalin]

[oldshowbiz]

The Ventures follwoed by Jr. Walker and the All Stars

[atrwriting]

thinking about logan only being soft with you.

when you first met him, you didn't think there was a soft bone in that man's body. all broken glass and rough edges, forced to tip-toe around trauma that you couldn't see and he wouldn't talk about. he was like that with everyone, though - and that's what you tried to tell yourself when it bothered you when he didn't return a hello, a smile, a wave...

until he did.

it was at night, after a long day. the rest of the crew that day was asleep and had been for hours. you sat in the kitchen - staring at nothing, and thinking about nothing - with a glass of whisky in hand. you weren't supposed to have it, especially not where the students could access it - but after a day like today? you figured it could slide.

logan had ventured in not too long after, much to your surprise. you didn't know he had trouble sleeping, even though you probably should've. you don't have rage like that without chasing ghosts everyday. he ignored your presence (no surprise there), and went straight for the fridge.

he usually ignores greetings, but would he ignore whisky?

"want something stronger?" you asked with his back turned to you.

he stayed still and silent for a moment, then cocked the side of his head over your shoulder.

when he brought over his own glass, you filled it with three fingers worth. you didn't want to bother him with small talk, especially after he had pounded his glass and you refilled it. he wasn't in much of a mood to talk, and you weren't in much of a mood for him to glare at you if you asked the wrong question. the silence wasn't the slightest bit comfortable, but you both had too many ghosts behind your eyes it seemed t see what the other had to share.

when you finished your glass, you slid the bottle towards him. "i'm heading to bed. finish it, if you want - or lock it up when you're done."

he only nodded in response, the day's exhaustion weighing heavy in his eyes.

after you had retreated back to your room, a few minutes or so had passed before you heard a knocking at your door. you were wearing your pajamas - shorts and a tiny sweatshirt - but at this hour? you were only worried if a student was hurt or needed help.

to your relief - and dismay - logan appeared when you opened the door.

"returning this," logan grunted, handing you the bottle.

"thanks," you spoke.

he stood there for a few moments after he nodded, silent, and you weren't sure why. maybe it was the whisky, maybe it was the lack of sleep... you weren't sure. in your case, it was both - and both were the reasons you asked, "do you... want to come in?"

he kept his brow lowered, but his gaze flicked up to meet yours. you barely interacted with him... you didn't know what he was thinking, and you figured he couldn't tell what you were thinking.

"it's hard sleeping alone," you admitted, holding his gaze.

his jaw tightened as he slowly nodded, understanding greeting his features. he followed you into your room, shutting the door behind you. he stripped himself down to his boxers and white tank top, and you tried not to stare. he was so damn handsome, but you couldn't make this weird. you just couldn't. sometimes talking didn't do anything, especially not when two broken people just want to be held.

when you both slipped beneath the sheets, your back turned to him, you pulled the sheets over the both of you. he settled in behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your midsection, tugging you up and against his strong chest. your ass rested on his thick thighs, and all you could feel was heat. not the heat that a space heater, blanket, or shower provided - but real heat. the kind that cured loneliness when you're not sure who you're missing. the kind that doesn't make the bed feel so big and empty when you have to get through the next day. the kind that makes you forget about every single fucking ghost you struggled to forget and remember at the same time...

and when he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his soft breaths sent shivers up and down every nerve ending. it was okay. everything was okay. you could feel it - it was tangible, and nothing and no one could take that away from you. bumps rose on every inch of your skin, but you welcomed the foreign feeling. your heart was blooming with adrenaline and excitement, but the exhaustion and the comfort was stronger. for the first time in what felt like forever - there was peace, and you almost couldn't believe it came in the form of the least peaceful man you had ever had the pleasure and displeasure of becoming acquainted with.

you rested your arm on top of his as you scooted back into him, letting your eyes drift closed. "goodnight, logan."

he pulled you closer. "goodnight, darlin'."

------

"goodnight moon" lolololololool -L xoxox

[amyispxnk]

Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

[fipindustries]

one thing venture bros always did fantastically well, indeed i would call it its biggest strength and main appeal, was conveying how the brutality of the past broke the generations before us.

and when i say brutality of the past i dont mean like, agrarian civilizations or feudalism or whatever, im talking about the insanity of the mid 20th century. venture bros truly makes you feel that past where uranium was sold in chemistry kits for kids, where people put radium in the clocks, where every available surface was covered in asbestos, when lead was the main ingredient in tap water, when doctors would smoke on the operating table and when the entire world ran on whisky and cocaine. and like, people just had to learn to live in this world, to just deal with it.

this is not just about how rusty was traumatized by his childhood but also how, when you look at action man, at the gentleman, at jonas and all the others, for all their bluster and power and masculinity they were clearly broken men, they were people with something decidedly wrong in them. there is a sense where you can tell some of them were veterans who saw horrors in the war, spies who had to sell their soul a thousand times over, or they were witness of truths mankind was not meant to know that cost them their humanity.

and while a lot of this is product of the wacky setting and what not, i feel is also a great metaphor that explains why there might have been something slightly off with our grandpas

[wheredafandomat]

Club Paradise 🫦

1 | Dirty Martini

Avenger! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut, alcohol

Bringing the glass to his lips, Loki took a sip, swirling the whisky in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, the burn in his throat keeping him vigilant. Placing the glass back against the bar, the melodic music merged with the intoxicating liquid left him feeling almost placid. Almost.

“You need to relax more, so many knots”

“You’re late” Loki answered as your hands massaged his shoulders.

“Can one really be late to such an affair?” You teased.

“Are you wearing what I sent you?” Loki asked, ignoring your gaietyness.

“Buy me a drink first” you replied before Loki exhaled, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“A martini” Loki spoke as the bartender looked at him “please” he added, more as an afterthought.

“Extra dirty” you added, turning from the bartender to Loki before opening your coat a little, revealing the emerald lace bralette you were wearing underneath. Reaching out to touch you, Loki’s eyes widened slightly as you grabbed his wrist before placing it down.

“Down boy” you smiled sultrily before the bartender placed your drink in front of you. Bringing the thin stemmed glass to your lips, you took a sip. “Good comes to those who wait” you smirked at Loki as he watched your movements.

“I’m an impatient man,” he replied sternly.

“Not for me” you grinned “for me you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Please” Loki answered, his brows raising a little as his hard exterior began to crumble.

“Please what?”

“Please can we go upstairs?” he almost pleaded.

“Take this as a lesson in delayed gratification Mr Laufeyson” you smirked.

“Loki,” he corrected.

“Is that what you want me to call you tonight? Loki?” You questioned.

“Yes, just Loki,” he nodded.

“Well, Loki, once I’ve finished my drink we can go upstairs, okay?” You smiled “good.”

The ride in the elevator was silent as you looked at yourself in the mirror, ignoring Loki’s piercing gaze fixated on you. You bit down your smile as his eyes ventured across your body, his nostrils flaring as he fought down his primal urge to take you right there. Delayed gratification your words echoed in his head.

Pushing the door of the suite open, Loki was hot on your tail, practically slamming the door closed behind him before pushing you up against it and pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. It had been weeks since he had seen you last, too busy with missions and everyday he craved you more and more. He needed you. You barely broke the kiss as he pushed your coat off of your shoulders before it fell to the floor, pooling at your feet.

“Magnificent” Loki uttered, taking you in. Your body draped in his colours.

“Kneel” you leered, Loki wasting no time to drop to his knees in front of you. Your gazes met for a moment before his eyes roamed your body, falling to your legs as he began pressing kisses against them. You stepped out of your heels as his kisses met your ankles. Looking back up into your eyes, Loki’s hand began moving up your leg, venturing dangerously close to your inner thigh. Your breath escaped you, your eyes almost falling closed as his hand moved higher. The panties were crotchless so there was no barrier between his hand and your needy pussy.

Closing his eyes, Loki reveled in the feeling of his hand moving through your soft folds as your breaths began to quicken.

“Get on the bed” you ordered, trying to remain forbidden, rhadamanthine, just like Loki wanted you to. He obeyed, quickly standing to his feet before making his way onto the bed. “I read your note” you spoke, stepping towards him “about what you want to do, what you want me to do.”

“Yes?” Loki pleaded, excited at the prospect.

“Well, you know what to do next Loki” you smirked, saying his name pointedly as you reached the bed. Loki laid back against it as your hand found the bulge straining against his trousers. “You’re already so hard for me, good boy” you praised as you straddled him. Loki bucked his hips as you rolled your hips against his. “But this isn’t where you want me, is it?” You teased as Loki shook his head furiously no. Smiling, you moved yourself up his body, Loki’s hands guiding you exactly where he wanted you as one of your knees found the side of his head. You barely had time to find your balance before Loki was dragging your other leg up, yanking you down on top of him. You placed your hands against the headboard for stability as Loki began exploring your centre.

“Eager I see” you giggled as he held you down tightly against him, his arms wrapping around your thighs. “Ughh” you moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking. “Just like thattt” you guided, gyrating your hips as Loki flattened his tongue against your pussy.

“Mhmmm” he groaned against you, the vibrations travelling through you in a pleasing buzz.

“Fuck!” You almost came, hips moving to and fro as Loki sucked your clit again “I need you Loki, I need you now” you implored, your roles changing as you begged him to fuck you. Loki was quick to unbuckle his belt as you got off of his face and moved back down. Straddling him, you both exhaled as you took him inside of you.

“Norns, I’ve missed you” Loki almost sighed, content in the feeling of being inside of you.

Your eyes fell closed as he lifted his hips, fucking into you with ardour as you bounced above him. Your jaw was slack, moans and chants of his name falling from your lips as your clit hit his pelvis with every thrust. You were so close and so was he, you could feel it. His thrusts grew sloppy as he neared his orgasm.

“We’ll never leave it this long again” Loki grunted, slamming his hips up into yours “promise me” he continued, swiping his thumb against his tongue before rubbing it against your clit “promise me we won’t go this long without seeing each other again”

“I-I promiseee” you nodded desperately, your pleasure swelling.

“That’s my girl” Loki smirked, stilling his movements as he came inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls.

“Fuckk” you mewled breathlessly as your arousal gushed out of you, dripping down Loki’s cock.

“And next time don’t be late” he spoke, coming down from his high as you got off of him.

“Whatever you say, Loki” you smiled.

Tags 🖤

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @asgards-princess-of-mischief @anundyingfidelity @buttercupcookies-blog

[utterlyotterlyx]

Wicked Game

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

Eris x CassianSister!Reader

Summary - Eris did everything, everything he could to protect you. He'd never thought that he'd ever have a mate, that he wasn't worthy enough, until he met you, Cassian's sister and everything fell into place.

Warnings - death, blood, mentions of torture, heartbreak, kidnapping, shattered bonds, angst.

I'm so sorry.

Eris would find any reason he could to not leave you. No reason was good enough to pull him from your arms, to disrupt the bubble of serenity he had made with you.

He had been dumbfounded, the shock evident on his face, when he had met you, spied you across the ballroom wedged between Cassian and Azriel, both of whom growled at any lingering eye. It was obvious that you felt uncomfortable as you trailed behind the inner circle, with your shoulders slightly hunched and eyes glued to the floor. You were too beautiful to feel so out of place, forest green fabric clung to your figure with shimmering gold embellishments hanging from your shoulders, and a high slit up your right thigh, exposing golden skin and tight muscle.

It had snapped for him then, the moment your scent soared through the room, fresh rain and rosemary with a hint of oak that he inhaled, gulped in and held onto, allowing it to drown his lungs.

That night was the first night he had spoken to you, the bond hadn't snapped for you yet, and he was rather content in listening to you, learning about you without the pressure of the mating bond in your words. He watched your full lips move as you told him who you were, Y/N, a sister of the inner circle, Cassian's little sister, Rhys' and Azriel's by proxy.

No wonder they were snarling at any male who tried to get close to you.

Eris couldn't keep his eyes off of you, ones that reminded you of aged whisky, swirling pools of amber and speckled gold. You told him about your love of helping others, evident in the school you had opened for orphaned Illyrian children where you taught them how to bake and paint, to sing and dance, you helped them heal from the trauma inflicted upon them in the Illyrian camps.

After that night, Eris had found any reason he could to venture to the Night Court, citing political cooperation as the reason for his visits which wasn't exactly a lie. Mor wasn't happy about it at first, but Rhys had told her they were working on a way to usurp Beron, to change the course of the Autumn Court for the better, that Eris wasn't as bad as he seemed.

Eris had visited you at your school that Rhys funded without question, your wings were cruelly taken from you as a child, no one could stop it, and the crescent moon scars peaked out from the back of any dress you wore. You had assured him it was fine, that they rarely ever caused you pain whilst you rubbed small circles into the skin of the small child wrapped up in your arms, soothing his anguish away with your touch.

He had noticed your gift on his first visit to the school, how the small girls whimpering in pain found immediate peace after your touch, you were able to take the pain away, able to bring peace upon the most tormented of souls. It made him adore you even more, as if those spheres of brown and sage green didn't have him in a chokehold already.

"You're her mate?" Cassian's hazel eyes ignited with rage, his fingers dug into the arms of his seat, threatening to rip the leather apart if he'd apply just a whisp more pressure.

Eris had told Rhys on his fifth visit, he had told the High Lord that the bond had snapped for him at the Autumn Ball six months ago, how he hadn't told you and was happy to wait until it snapped for you too. Then the cavalry had been called in, and he found himself sat in front of the entirety of the inner circle, all of them present but you.

"Yes," Eris couldn't show his nerves, telling your family of the bond was something he foresaw you doing together, as a couple, but you were still none the wiser to his affections. "She doesn't know, and I have no intention of telling her. I would have already."

Azriel thought about it, how much happier you were when Eris was around, which had become often for the heir. The wide smile that showed your gleaming teeth, the twinkle in your eye as you answered his genuine questions, the more often than not moments where you dazed into the sky with that lovestruck vacancy whilst holding one of his letters in your fingers.

No one was particularly thrilled about it, not after what had happened to Mor, but amongst all of the bickering Azriel was the voice of truth, "She loves you, Eris," it pained him to say it, to say that he saw it even if the bond hadn't snapped for you yet. Azriel turned to Nesta, the closest thing you had to a sister, "You know it."

Nesta nodded sadly, you were everything to her, her best friend, a sister by extension, you understood her pain and torment, you had helped her to heal, to put herself back together piece by piece, "Yes," she looked to Cassian, "She does. She told me."

Hope jolted in Eris' chest, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute, the need to reach you almost overwhelming him. Eris didn't see the eldest Archeron sister stand to soothe her mate, he didn't hear her tell him that this was what you wanted, what made you happy, that it was what you longed for.

Cassian looked to the Autumn heir, a softer expression falling over his features, "Y/N deserves the best, she deserves everything good and pure. Can you give that to her? Can you give my sister the life she deserves?"

"I can," Eris showed no doubt, and suffered under the gaze of the inner circle, he'd suffer for however long he needed to if it meant you, gloriously perfect you, were waiting on the other side.

"Not right now you can't," Mor stood at the back of the room, arms folded against her chest as she looked down on Eris with a mixture of disgust and fear, "Not when Beron is still ruling over Autumn, she wouldn't be safe with you, not when Beron suddenly decides he wants to hurt us."

"I can protect her-"

"You couldn't protect me."

Eris had always carried guilt with him for how things had played out with Mor, but this was different, you were his mate, his fated companion.

"I couldn't stop what happened to you, and I'm sorry that I was the cause of so much pain for you, for all of you. I wish I could go back and say no, that I would be brave enough to spit in his face and defy him," Mor knew he was telling the truth, that deep down he did regret everything that had happened, and her gaze softened, "Y/N is my mate, I have spent months getting to know her. Y/N is bold and beautiful, the most caring soul I've ever encountered, parts of all of you live within her. The best parts of you. She has Cassian's humour and Mor's wit, she loves painting and reading and nature, she welcomes the shadows like old friends, and she's consumed by her love for you all. She loves you all so much."

"He's right. I do," gravity fell from beneath Eris as he turned to see you standing in the doorway, no one had noticed you creep in, no one had heard the door open and shut, no one had heard the padding of your feet sound across the floor.

The sun surrounded you, almost illuminating your figure as you leaned against the doorframe, your long pale green dress brushing against the stone floor and eyes flittering across the room before finding Eris. Your mate.

"You stupid male," you told him with a smirk, a curled strand of hair fell over your shoulder, your arms rested at your sides and your eyes held a playfulness to them.

It clicked, that golden thread tying you to him that was once quiet, searching for the other side, now hummed, no, it sang. "You knew?"

"Since your first visit to the school when you scooped Pippa up into your arms and sang that Autumn lullaby to her, she's never let anyone hold her like that. I knew you were meant to be mine from that moment," you tugged on the bond and his hand shot to his chest at the sensation.

"Yours," the word fell from his lips and the room pulsated with that uniquely vibrant power that radiated from the fulfilled mating bond, it was stifling, nothing anyone could move against.

Eris had moved to you then, you pushed yourself from the doorframe as he approached, allowing him to take your face in his hands and run them through your hair whilst you became lost in his whisky amber eyes. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and his breath fanning across your face, "We can wait, I don't want you to feel pressured into accepting this."

"Just kiss me, Eris," your voice was barely a hush above a whisper, you peered up at him with pleading eyes, telling him that you were ready, that you wanted this. Him.

The gap between you closed and his lips met yours in an embrace that could only be described as reality shifting. It was like your soul had ignited, like it was now entwined with a twin flame and they danced together in perfect sync. Eris' lips were soft, and his kiss was so tender and gentle as his tongue swept against your bottom lip, it savoured every piece of you that you offered to him, and he drank you in without doubt, with no care at who was watching.

You were his forever, and he was your eternity.

Eris couldn't breathe as he hurtled through the halls of the Forest House.

You were meant to be in Velaris, you had told him you'd be there waiting for him.

It wasn't safe to leave you in Autumn without him, it had been decided that you'd reside with your family whilst he was away dealing with treaty issues with Spring and Day by order of Beron, which had become easier now that Tamlin and Helion knew of your mating bond.

Eris had entered the House of Wind with only one thing on his mind, you.

The bond between you was muted, he hadn't felt you for a couple of weeks, which was normal. You had decided to mute the bond, turn it off, whilst he was away, he didn't need to be scared and pulled away from another meeting when pain passed down the bond toward him. The pain you took from others seemed to travel to him and he had always thought something had happened to you. So, it was easier to turn it off, to send the odd tidal wave of adoration down it every now and again so he'd know you were waiting for him.

His world tumbled when he entered the house to bewildered expressions once he asked where his mate was, only to be told that you had returned to Autumn two weeks ago, that you had received a letter from him and disappeared with a love sick grin of barely contained excitement on your face.

"I never sent that letter," he told Cassian whose eyes widened with horror and fear, he screamed for Rhys and Azriel, for Mor and Nesta, telling them what had happened and that Eris hadn't felt her in two weeks.

Eris disregarded Rhys' words, to find her together, as a family, he couldn't wait. Eris winnowed right into the main foyer of the Forest House, sniffing like a bloodhound for a speckle of your scent.

It lingered in the air, rosemary and oak, the freshness of last nights rainfall mixed in with something else he couldn't quite decipher, and he sped toward it. Eris ignored all of the guards and servants who looked at him with pity and sadness, he ignored the solemn tinge to the atmosphere, he just needed you. His mate. The love of his life. His everything.

"I love you," the words fell from your lips, you couldn't stop them. The fire roared beside you from the place on the floor, your body entangled with your mates as he traced faint circles around the crescent moon scars on your back and peppered kisses into your hair. "I love you more than the wildflowers crave the autumn breeze. I love you more than the ocean loves her creatures."

Eris rolled you over as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, he caressed your cheek and ran his thumb over your wobbling bottom lip, "I love you more than you could ever love me, my sweet, perfect mate," he pressed a kiss to your lips, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket, "I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you, I never thought I deserved a mate, or anyone for that matter. Then you came, you came and made my life make sense, you gave it a purpose."

You listened intently, you felt his touch rolling down you arms and across your stomach, already so familiar with every scar and perfect imperfection of your body as you told him, "If I ever one day leave this world, I will look ahead to the next adventure and hold its hand, and I will look back with my other entwined in yours. Wherever my soul may wander, I know it will always find you. Our love isn't made to last just one lifetime, it's made to extend across universes and worlds. Even when I am stardust, floating around in nothingness, when the last part of my soul begins to fade away, I will love you."

Eris followed your scent, that melody of beauty, all the way down the deepest parts of the Forest House, his stomach twisting in agony as he realised where you were beckoning him.

Turning a corner, all the air in his lungs was ripped from him, he called your name, pleading you to sit up from the stone table where you lay. The room was covered in blood and discarded weapons, iron clung to it. To you.

Eris took a step forward, the only light in the room was on you, the light had always found you. It came from a skylight that displayed the stars above, it illuminated you in their glow, and your head was tilted to it, as if you were idly staring at the sky and dreaming like you usually did.

A sob caught in his throat, "No," his face twisted and he reached for you, taking your cold hand in his own as he forced himself to look at you.

Your eyes were open and staring at the world beyond the skylight, your lips were bloody and chapped, there was no light in you, no golden hue to your skin, no joy in your eyes. There was nothing. Eris wasn't breathing as he looked at your body, as he looked at the fourteen long tally marks that had been carved into your stomach and the purple bruises coating you hips and legs, as he found your still tear stained cheeks and the emerald ring he had proposed to you with still on your finger with a depleted shine.

Eris cried, he roared as he felt that fire consume his body, "I love you. Please, I'll do anything. Please," he begged as he pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your matted hair with his hand, tucking it behind your pointed ears of which the tips of had drooped slightly.

He pressed his lips to yours, that burning fire that caused your own to dance now waltzed alone.

Then he felt it, he felt the bond completely shatter, he felt that tendril of golden thread pang back to him like broken elastic. A once burning love that consumed everything he was, now a broken tether dancing in a storm cloud with nothing to attach to, with no light on the other side.

Eris was broken.

He didn't feel the bodies enter the room behind him, he didn't hear their sobs, he didn't hear Cassian's cries as he collapsed into Nesta. Eris looked at you, he looked at the side of your face and remembered you lying next to him, hands raised to the ceiling as they played with his own, he remembered how your chest vibrated when you laughed, he remembered the love you gave him in your eyes and all of the promises of ruling together and creating your own herd of beautiful red haired children. Promises of changing the world.

With a strangled voice, Eris whispered to you, tears streaming down his face and pattering against the stone where your lifeless body lay, "Even when I am stardust, floating around in nothingness, when the last part of my soul begins to fade away, I will love you. It was always you, my sweet, perfect mate."

Authors Note

Ngl, I actually cried writing this. I think I got a bit carried away.

I apologise to myself and to you all profusely.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 6)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Your plot for revenge against Tommy begins to take shape, but he becomes suspicious.

Author's Note: I intended this to be the last part, but there will be at least one more. Oops 🙈 Side note, Polly died of tuberculosis in my AU.

Warnings: language, medical discussions, gaslighting, mention of pregnancy

Part 5

You talked for what felt like hours with little more than a nod from the man in the white coat sitting across from you. Finally you stopped to inhale deeply, before asking, “Well? Do you understand what it is I need from you?”

“I do,” he nodded quickly, sitting forward to rest his elbows upon his desk. He broke eye contact as he stared out the window of his office, fingers laced tightly and brow etched with concern.

His speech came haltingly, aware of your position, but more keenly, that of your husband. “I understand your predicament, Mrs. Shelby, but I can’t say I agree with this…method,” he attempted not to offend you. “The falsification of medical records, lying to a patient simply to confine him in hospital…it’s…it’s unethical,” he stressed the last word with such distaste your rage bubbled to the surface before you could contain it.

“Unethical?” you scoffed. “What of the months I spent in the care of your nurses and doctors for nervous disorders and fainting spells fabricated by my husband when I couldn’t remember anything about myself? And when you released me, you gave him medication to sedate me at will. Where was your sense of morality then?”

You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from trembling, but managed to hold the doctor’s gaze firmly. As you did so, you noticed his eyes widen, realizing the harm caused by his miscalculations in judgment.

Clearing his throat of the lump that had formed he began, “Your husband was quite convincing and I wasn’t aware of his intentions to confine you in such a way." He searched your eyes, hoping for forgiveness as he apologized as sincerely as possible. "I am truly sorry for your pain and anguish," he added, lowering his gaze shamefully. Taking another moment to sit with his thoughts he finally leaned across his desk to confide in you.

He glanced toward the door to be certain no one was approaching before adopting a low, conspiratorial tone. Then he advised, “I may be able to assist you. If your husband has these fits, as you say, a case could be made to persuade the layperson.”

You nodded in silent agreement, afraid to give yourself over to hope too quickly. “Please go on, what happens next?” you ventured breathlessly.

———————

“How was the appointment at the hospital, darling? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Tommy apologized as he helped you remove your fur coat.

Turning to him with a tight smile you replied, “The baby’s heartbeat is strong.”

Tommy beamed with pride as he pulled you toward him for an embrace, but the large manilla envelope between you stopped him.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyes darting up to yours suspiciously.

“As I was leaving I saw Dr. Holford and he asked me to give you this,” you informed him as you proffered the envelope carefully. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath, waiting for Tommy to take the baited trap, until he whisked it from your fingers moments later. The air seemed to leave your lungs in one great breath as he strode away from you into his office.

Standing alone in the hallway you found yourself unable to move when you suddenly heard a crash. Rushing toward the noise, you surveyed the damage of the broken carafe lying in pieces and Tommy leaning over his desk, rubbing his eyes. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked sweetly.

“I told the girl to refill the whisky this morning. It’s still empty,” he muttered through clenched jaw.

“Frances will see to it. I meant the envelope,” you gestured where the contents had been scattered.

Clutching a letter in his hand, Tommy turned toward you slowly as he accused, “What do you know about this?”

You gulped as you watched his eyes darken, head tilting as he scanned your face in painstaking detail.

Heartbeat thundering in your chest, you swayed slightly in your heels from fear and exhaustion. Playing to his recent sympathy for the well-being of your child, you asked permission to sit, stalling for time.

Tommy nodded, pulling out a chair, but waited by your side.

“The doctor told me it was urgent…something to do with an x-ray they took from when Polly was ill,” you spoke the lines you’d rehearsed in the car as best you could with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the back of your neck.

Tommy scoffed. “After all this time, now they tell me?” His hand tightened around the back of your chair, causing the wood to crack beneath the pressure and you winced to yourself, wondering if his fingers might creep toward your throat next. He emitted a long, low sigh as he confessed, “Tuberculoma…what the fuck is that?”

As he hovered over you, he pulled an x-ray from the pile of documents and held it to the light for you. “I don’t see anything, do you?” he asked with irritation, shaking it a bit too harshly to straighten it when it folded in on itself.

“I’m not a doctor, Tom,” you demurred, worried his stubbornness would cause the entire plan to fail. Resting your head in your hand you wondered, Why did I believe this could work? But you had to try so you added gently, “Invite him here so he can explain it properly.”

Striding away from you suddenly, Tommy rounded his desk to pick up the phone. As he waited for the operator to connect the call he promised, “We’re all going to have a chat very soon.”

Part 7

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@lovemissyhoneybee

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

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@perseny

[brewed-pangolin]

Inspired by your thoughts on tea, since we know Soap makes fun of Ghost during the Alone mission for asking for a cuppa... do you think Soap would make tea for his wife? Tease her about it but always make sure her favored brand is in the pantry?

Umm...I might have gone a little overboard with this. Oopsies. (But I loved it so much!!)

Johnny would absolutely tease his love for your certain affection and acquired tastes towards tea.

Always muttering little quips under his breath as you meticulously scrutinize the herbal tea aisle of the grocery store for the better part of half an hour.

--

"Steamin Jesus, gonnae be growin' roots inta th'floor if this takes any longer."

You roll your eyes at him. Too lost in mulling over whether to go with the tried and true chamomile tea bags you've been using for years, or venture out and take a chance on the loose tea you've been reading so much about.

You decide, after much internal deliberation, to go with both.

Once at the checkout lane, you survey the ever growing line of products and can't help but notice that two of your newly cherished items seemed to have miraculously disappeared.

"What's th' bloody difference?" Soap's sudden interjection pulls your eyes towards him. Holding both boxes in his hands, eyes shifting back and forth to give each parcel a quick yet thorough inspection.

"Th's ones tea in a bag. And th's ones loose. So what, ones caged and th'others free range?"

"It's basic chemistry, smartass," you snap back. Snatching both boxes out of his hands, adding them back to the line along the grocery belt.

"You should know something about that, Soap. Being a demolitions expert and all."

"Aye, I am. Rarely havin' to deal wit botanicals though, sweetheart."

An amused sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head as you point to each box and explain in lamens' terms the difference to the ill educated Scot.

"Tea bags are good for quick steaps, inexpensive and easily accessible. But they also grow bitter quickly, are only good for one-time use, and generally have one dominant aromatic note."

You give him pause, narrowing your eyes and gander whether he's understanding your descriptive breakdown or altogether lost like a deer in headlights. His cocked eyebrow indicates the former, allowing you to continue.

"Loose tea has numerous aromatic tones, a longer shelf life, greater variety, and one scoop can be brewed multiple times. Yes, they're quite a bit more expensive and take longer to steap, but the pros outweigh the cons pretty unanimously."

"So why ya buyin' both then, bonnie?"

"The same reason you buy two bottles of the same whisky? One single malt and the other blended. Different brewing styles bring out different keynotes in taste. It's simple chemistry and, why are you looking at me like that?"

You question abruptly. His cerulean eyes gazing upon you with the warmth of a summer's dawn. And carrying with it a smile that would make any young mare weak and tremble at the knees.

"Yer so fuckin' cute when ya go on a tangent like that, bonnie. Cannae help but get lost in ya," he whispers. His thumb gently wrapping around the curve of your chin as he leisurely closes the distance between you.

"Um. Excuse me?"

A sudden, unfamiliar voice tears you both out of your enchanting eye lock, forcing you to break from his gaze and focus on the somewhat embarrassed expression of the young cashier.

"That'll be $78.95, ma'am."

--

Not even two months later, you turned John MacTavish into a class act tea brewing connoisseur. Something about the chemical intricacies of it seemed to pull at the explosive alchemy that flowed so easily within his mind.

Boiling the water to the perfect alloted time and temperature. Pouring it carefully over the filled infuser that he measured out like an artisanly skilled brewer. He even had an app that would indicate the steeping time for each distinct batch of tea leaves.

And as he brought the expertly steeped brew up to you in bed, you couldn't help but give yourself a theoretical pat on the back to turning the once tea scoffing Scot into a true master brewer.

"Simon would be proud, John." You teased, bringing the porcelain rim of elegantly decorated cup to your lip.

And Soap answered first with a icy glare, followed quickly by his typical brogish banter.

"Donnae fuckin' dare, lass."

Drabbles Masterlist

[sgiandubh]

The Lady and the Unicorn

This made the news a while ago, with the usual imbecile speculation on trademark infringement (that particular troll has no idea, of course, and I shall immediately explain what I think). Today, though, there seems to be some ironic reaction from S to the fact that Beyoncé's own white label bourbon, a supposed nod to her family's past, seems to closely mirror The Sassenach's bottle design:

People did not seem to have understood it at all, as they should have considered also the other story he immediately added to this one:

And of course, the Gay Troll went with her sad, tired, mendacious couplet about The Unicorn in the Room, heh. That particular cretin seems to have forgotten that a unicorn also means...

Or, for our beloved Spanish Mafia girls...

Of course, SS is still frolicking somewhere around the Minicorn Pasture (meaning that its market value would be, in my book, evaluated somewhere between 1 and 3 million USD - based on absolutely nothing else but common sense and my personal hunch), but his pun is just about S being confident that his business ventures will be successful, nothing more - as shown in the medals' story also featuring an unicorn, of course. And mark me, I see absolutely nothing hostile towards Beyoncé: it's just ironic and well, it has no legal implications whatsoever, as a design similarity does not qualify as a trademark or copyright infringement, except in very precise situations, such as when iconic brands are involved.

The above was not invented by me, but stated by the US Supreme Court, in its very recent (June 2023) decision in Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc. v. VIP Products, LLC (you can read it all here, including Justice Kagan's very clear legal opinion on SCOTUS' interpretation: https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/22pdf/22-148_3e04.pdf). In a nutshell, the design of a product will always be protected by the provisions of the Lanham Act, only if unfair use (such as a parody of the product by a toy maker, as in Jack Daniel's decision, or a close copycat) could dilute a 'famous mark' (meaning by this either cause unjustified prejudice or cause confusion among the consumers). In all the other situations, the SCOTUS' legally binding precedent, in the Wal-Mart Stores, Inc v. Samara Brothers, Inc affair (2000), applies:

Or, in Justice Scalia's unanimous opinion: 'design, like color, is not inherently distinctive' . Neither that horse, nor that unicorn, are yet iconic and therefore the trademark infringement discussion is empty and void. As is the slanderous insinuation that SS copied a Japanese whisky brand's bottle design - Suntory's Hibiki being the brand quoted by the Mordorian experts.

If anything, Suntory's Hibiki eerily resembles that FMN gin bottle design - but why embarrass ourselves with facts, huh?

as compared to...

[drewharrisonwriter]

No Ties

Henry Cavill x Actress OFC

Summary: You don't do commitments, and it looks like Henry may be down for it.

AO3 | Masterlist

You had just wrapped up a movie with your Hollywood crush, Henry Cavill, not more than a week ago, and now you were sailing in a catamaran across Italy with him and your closest friends, Pedro, Oscar, and Sarah before the press tours.

Your admiration for Henry had been a long-standing affair, something you'd made clear long before you began working together. You'd even cracked jokes during the previous year's Oscars where you won Best Supporting Actress, cheekily thanking him in your speech, despite not having worked together at that point.

With the movie-making behind you, you were finally able to relax with the people who made you feel most at ease, including Henry.

"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking," you told him candidly, causing him to snort and nearly spill his drink. The warmth of the whisky tingled the roof of his mouth and the back of his nose.

"That's not what—"

"May I remind you that I'm nearing my 30s," you continued, adding a playful twist to the conversation.

"I–I am just curious because, you know..." He stammered, clearly wrestling with his words. You understood what he meant; to Henry, you seemed young, and he had no confirmation of any public relationships. You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I'm sorry," he began as you settled beside him, tucking your feet up on the cushioned booth of the catamaran's dining area.

"I, uh... am just curious, you know, and I am not here to judge—"

"Are you attracted to me?" you blurted out with an almost deadpan expression, catching him off guard. His cerulean eyes widened in surprise, and he held his breath.

He remained still in mild shock at your words, and you continued, "Because why else would you be so interested in what I've done in the sack?"

"Can't a person be curious?" Henry tried to play it cool, taking a sip from his glass as you pouted and shook your head lightly.

"I'll have sex with you, if that's what you want. Gladly," you stated bluntly, leaving him with his mouth hanging open in complete shock.

Despite the public knowledge that you were a huge fan of him, likely mentally dating him for years, you made it clear that committed relationships were not your thing. It's just the way you lived, you told people.

You had been a professional singer for over a decade, and your rise to stardom had been meteoric. Each album, each single, each tour was a resounding success. In the past three years, you had ventured into the world of movies and achieved success there as well. 

Sarah once told you that everything you touch turns to gold, and Pedro humorously referred to you as Queen Midas. 

Given the way you were living your life, the last thing you needed was a relationship that could potentially hold you back.

"Did you finally break him?" Oscar chuckled as he descended into the kitchen, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. Pedro and Sarah followed him, removing their sunglasses as they took a seat opposite you and Henry.

Henry took another sip from his glass, suspiciously longer than necessary.

"Did she give you the 'I don't do relationships' spiel?" Pedro laughed, and Sarah rolled her eyes, but a huge smile was plastered on her face.

Henry gently set the glass down on the table, his eyes locked onto it as he seemed to contemplate his response.

"I'm—surprised. Your songs are so... romantic. That's why I asked, I mean... you must have experienced strong feelings for people for you to pen and sing those songs," he finally spoke, his gaze still fixed on the glass.

"Do you want to know her secret?" Sarah asked excitedly, biting her lower lip. Henry looked up and nodded his head with a shy smile. "She writes about our experiences. Not hers..." She giggled.

"That makes sense."

Later that evening, as your friends dozed off in the living area of the catamaran, you found Henry on the deck, gazing at the distant view of Amalfi, a drink and cigar in hand. You announced your presence by lightly knocking on a nearby pole. He turned around and warmly smiled at you as you walked toward him, slipping under his free arm.

Surprised and uncertain of what to do, you guided his free arm to wrap around your waist, and he relaxed in response.

"So what..." He began, "Are we a thing now?" You both exchanged glances and laughed as you wrapped your arms around him, leaning against his chest.

"You could say that. Just let me know if you want to stop, and everything stops," you assured him.

"Is that how this works? What do you do when you catch feelings?" Henry asked with a hint of curiosity. You giggled in response.

"Well, that's the thing. No feelings. Just... fun and company." you stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't know how I feel about that."

"Well, you can start by not telling me how you feel about that." You chuckled and he was smiling, amused as he shook his head in disbelief. 

You looked up at him, and he was already looking down at you, slowly leaning in. You closed your eyes as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm and carrying the scent of whisky and cigar—intoxicating. You inhaled it slowly, and his lips finally met yours. You leaned back and loosened your arms around him, tiptoeing to meet his lips where they were.

It was your first real kiss, not something rehearsed for a music video or a movie, where dozens of people scrutinized your every move for the audience.

This was... real life.

"So..." He breathed, "No feelings, huh?" A smile curled up on your face as you shook your head, leaning back in to kiss him some more.

"Yeah. No feelings. That's the only rule." You whispered. 

"Wanna take this inside?" He nodded, and you both made your way back to your room.

"This is not how I pictured our first time would be," you mumbled as you slowly unbuttoned his shirt while he untied your robes. He sucked in a breath as the fabric fell on the floor, revealing everything for him to see.

"Commando, huh?" He looked up at you, a sudden intensity in his usually soft blue eyes. You cocked your head back in a slight laugh.

[nayziiz]

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 5

The grand ballroom of the opulent hotel shimmered with the soft glow of chandeliers and the murmur of polite conversation as the elite of society gathered for the annual charity gala. Distinguished guests adorned in their finest attire mingled amongst one another, their laughter and clinking glasses filling the air with an air of sophistication and elegance.

As the guests mingled and the air buzzed with polite conversation, the Rossi family made their grand entrance into the gala. Among them, Amelia stood out like a beacon of grace and elegance, her every movement exuding a quiet confidence that drew the gaze of all who beheld her.

Dressed in a stunning light green gown that hugged her curves in all the right places, Amelia glided effortlessly through the crowd, her presence commanding attention at every turn. Her father, Harold, walked by her side, a proud smile gracing his lips as he watched his daughter navigate the sea of guests with poise and grace.

Beside him, Marilyn Rossi, Amelia's mother, radiated an aura of sophistication and grace, her elegant gown shimmering in the soft light of the ballroom as she moved with effortless grace.

As Amelia weaved her way through the crowd, her eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity as she greeted each guest with genuine warmth and charm, Lando stood aside with his father, Adam, watching her with a mixture of admiration and longing.

With a glass of whisky in hand, Lando took a sip as he admired Amelia from afar, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that belied his cool exterior. He couldn't help but marvel at the way her gown accentuated every curve of her body, the slit revealing a tantalising glimpse of smooth, tanned skin that sent a shiver of desire coursing through him.

Lost in his reverie, Lando found himself captivated by the sight of Amelia, her beauty transcending the confines of the crowded ballroom as she moved with effortless grace and elegance. And as he watched her, his heart swelled with a longing that he knew he could no longer ignore.

Amelia's presence at the gala didn't go unnoticed by George, also in attendance with his father, whose gaze was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. From across the room, he watched with a mixture of admiration and envy as she effortlessly charmed her way through the crowd, her beauty and grace captivating everyone in her orbit.

As Amelia smiled and laughed with other established individuals, her expert socialising skills on full display, George couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He had known Amelia for years, but tonight, she seemed to shine brighter than ever before, her radiance casting a spell over everyone she encountered.

Despite his best efforts to maintain a composed exterior, George found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Amelia, his heart pounding with a mixture of desire and longing. He had always admired her from afar, but tonight, as he watched her move with effortless grace and elegance, he couldn't help but feel a surge of attraction that threatened to consume him.

Steve's words cut through George's thoughts like a knife, snapping him back to reality with a jolt. He turned to his father, his brow furrowed in concern as he considered the implications of Steve's statement.

“Her father is going to kill her when he finds out what she's been doing.” Steve reiterated, his tone laced with a hint of malice.

George sighed, feeling a sense of unease settling over him at the thought of the impending confrontation. He knew firsthand how strict Harold Rossi could be, especially when it came to matters of reputation and family honour.

“Is it really necessary to do it here?” George wondered aloud, his voice tinged with apprehension.

He couldn't bear the thought of Amelia being subjected to public humiliation and embarrassment, especially not in front of the other esteemed guests. Steve shrugged dismissively, his expression cold and calculating.

“Sometimes, a little public spectacle is necessary to drive home a point.” He replied, his tone dripping with disdain.

George glanced back at Amelia, his heart aching at the thought of what awaited her once her father discovered the truth. He knew he had to find a way to warn her, to spare her from the fallout of her actions, but he also knew that time was running out.

George's heart sank as he watched Harold approach Steve, his fears of a confrontation escalating with each step his father took. Despite his best efforts to intervene, he found himself rooted to the spot, powerless to prevent the impending clash between the two patriarchs.

With a forced smile etched on his face, Harold extended his hand to Steve, exchanging pleasantries with a practised ease that belied the tension simmering beneath the surface. George held his breath, his stomach churning with anxiety as he awaited the inevitable moment when their conversation would turn to the topic of Amelia.

As the two men shook hands, George could sense the undercurrent of animosity between them, the tension palpable in the air as they exchanged polite niceties. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Steve revealed the truth about Amelia's actions, and he braced himself for the fallout that would follow.

“Gentlemen.” Harold's words cut through the tension like a knife, momentarily diffusing the palpable atmosphere between the two men.

George breathed a sigh of relief as his father exchanged pleasantries with Harold, his heart lightening at the temporary reprieve from the impending confrontation.

“Good to see you, Mr Rossi.” George added, offering a polite smile as he joined in the exchange.

“Likewise, George.” Harold nodded in acknowledgment, his expression one of forced congeniality as he replied.

But it was Steve's next words that caught everyone off guard, his tone light and jovial as he turned his attention to the topic of Amelia.

“I must say, Harold, your daughter is a force to be reckoned with.” Steve noted with a hint of provocation in his voice.

“She is. I wouldn't expect anything less from her.” Harold chuckled, a proud gleam in his eye as he responded. The tension seemed to dissipate further as Harold continued, his words laced with humour. “Did she talk you out of buying another Mercedes?”

“Not this time, Harold.” Steve replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “But I must say, your daughter has quite a compelling charm. I’m sure she has you wrapped around her finger.”

Steve's words cut through the air with a hint of jest, but Harold met them with a hearty laugh, his jovial demeanour belying the tension that had been simmering just moments before.

“Ah, you're not wrong there, Steve.” Harold replied, his voice tinged with pride as he glanced fondly in Amelia's direction. “She does have a way of getting what she wants.”

George couldn't help but smile at Harold’s words, knowing all too well the truth behind them. Amelia had always possessed a magnetic charm and an uncanny ability to win people over with her charisma and grace.

As Lando's eyes fell upon George, Steve and Harold standing together, a wave of unease washed over him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, sensing the tension lingering in the air like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Determined to shield Amelia from whatever trouble may be looming, Lando made his way through the crowd, his steps purposeful yet cautious. As he approached her, he felt a surge of protectiveness welling up inside him, a fierce determination to keep her safe from harm.

With a gentle touch, Lando snaked his arm around Amelia's waist, drawing her close to him in a gesture that took her by surprise. She turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise at the sudden contact, but a warm smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she met his gaze.

“Dance with me.” He instructed, his tone firm yet playful as they moved to the rhythm of the music.

“Well, hello to you too, Lando.” She teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she matched his steps with practised ease.

As they twirled and swayed to the music, Amelia couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her in Lando's arms. Despite the uncertainty of their situation, she found solace in the familiarity of their connection, the unspoken bond that had always existed between them.

“Charles here?” Lando inquired, his voice soft as he looked into her eyes.

“He had business matters to tend to back in Monaco.” Amelia responded.replied, her tone tinged with regret. “And, Zara?”

“She had a shoot in Milan.” He explained, almost dismissive in his tone.

“Very nice. She seems to be making her way up in the world.” Amelia responded, her voice laced with fake amusement.

“Why is your father speaking with the Russells?” Lando suddenly asked, changing the subject completely.

Amelia's expression clouded slightly at Lando's question, her brows furrowing in concern as she followed his gaze to where her father stood in conversation with the Russells.

“I'm not sure.” She admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But it can't be anything good. You don’t think they’ll tell my father?”

Amelia's words hung heavy in the air, the weight of uncertainty settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Lando could see the worry etched into her features, the lines of concern deepening with each passing moment.

“You know we can't trust them.” Lando replied, his tone grim. “They'll do whatever it takes to further their own agenda, even if it means betraying us.”

“What do we do then?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Lando's jaw tightened with determination as he met her gaze.

“Deny everything and ask for evidence.” He stated firmly. “We won't let them destroy us without a fight.”

“This has become quite messy.” She murmured, her voice tinged with resignation.

“Just trust me, okay?” Lando asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.

“Of course.” Amelia replied without hesitation, her trust in him unwavering despite the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

Feeling the weight of the looming threat, Lando pressed a gentle kiss to Amelia's cheek, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support and protection. Drawing her closer into his embrace, he held her tightly as they continued to dance, their movements synchronised in perfect harmony.

As they swayed to the music, Lando kept a watchful eye on the men standing on the opposite side of the room, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. He could feel the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment, a silent reminder of the danger that lurked just beneath the surface. But despite the looming threat, Lando refused to let fear consume him. With Amelia by his side, he felt invincible.

When Adam approached Harold, Steve, and George, Steve saw the optimal opportunity to put his plan into action.

“Adam, good. You’re here. I have some rather... interesting information to share with you.” Steve announces. Adam and Harold exchanged a curious glance, their interest piqued by Steve's cryptic words.

“Go on.” Adam prompted, his tone laced with anticipation. Steve leaned back against the wall, a smug expression crossing his features as he revelled in the attention of his esteemed peers.

“You see, it seems your dear Lando and Amelia have been engaging in some rather... illicit activities behind our backs.” Steve admitted.

Adam's heart sank at Steve's revelation, a mixture of disbelief and anger coursing through him as he struggled to process the implications of his words. He exchanged a troubled glance with Harold, their shared concern evident in their expressions as they grappled with the shock of the news.

“Are you certain?” Harold asked, his voice tinged with desperation as he searched for any sign of doubt in Steve's demeanour. Steve nodded, his smug expression unwavering as he revelled in the discomfort of his colleagues.

“Quite certain.” He replied, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “It seems your children have been playing a dangerous game, and it's high time it's put to an end. Just ask them about the cars in her showroom.”

Harold's mind raced as he considered the implications of Steve's revelation. He couldn't believe that Lando and Amelia would be involved in such activities, but the evidence presented by Steve left little room for doubt. He felt a surge of anger rising within him, a fierce protectiveness for his daughter and a determination to get to the bottom of the situation.

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Steve.” Adam replied, his voice cold and controlled despite the turmoil raging within him. “We will address this matter immediately.”

As Steve sauntered away, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, Adam turned to Harold with a steely determination in his eyes.

“I swear, if your son has Amelia involved in something illegal…” Harold started.

“We need to find out the truth.” Adam interrupted his friend, his voice resolute. “And we need to do it quickly, before this situation spirals out of control.”

As the music swirled around them, Adam and Harold approached Lando and Amelia mid-dance, their expressions grave as they beckoned for their children to follow them to a secluded area where they could talk in private.

Lando and Amelia exchanged a worried glance, their hearts sinking at the seriousness of their fathers' demeanour. With a silent nod, they followed Adam and Harold to a quiet corner of the room, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other guests.

Once they were alone, Adam and Harold turned to their children, their expressions a mixture of concern and disappointment.

“Lando, Amelia.” Adam began, his voice heavy with emotion. “We need to talk.”

Lando and Amelia exchanged a nervous glance, their hearts pounding in their chests as they waited for their fathers to speak.

“It's come to our attention that there have been... allegations made against you.” Harold continued, his voice strained with emotion. “Allegations of illegal activities.”

Lando and Amelia's eyes widened in shock, their minds racing as they tried to make sense of the accusations levelled against them. They exchanged a worried glance, their hearts heavy with dread at the gravity of the situation.

"We need to know the truth," Adam said, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "Are these accusations true? Have you been engaging in illegal activities?"

Lando and Amelia exchanged a silent glance, their expressions grave as they prepared to confront the truth of their actions. With a heavy sigh, Lando spoke up, his voice filled with remorse.

“No. We’re not involved in anything illegal.” Lando lied.

Adam and Harold exchanged a sceptical glance, their expressions betraying their uncertainty at Lando and Amelia's vehement denials. They could sense the tension thickening in the air as the weight of the accusations hung heavy between them.

“Amelia, speak.” Harold instructed, his tone firm but tinged with concern.

Amelia's jaw tightened with frustration, her eyes flashing with indignation as she bristled at her father's request.

“I’m slightly offended that you would think I would ever get involved in something illegal.”She snapped, her words cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Watch your tone, Amelia.” Harold warned, his voice a low growl of warning.

But Amelia pressed on, her anger fueling her defiance as she continued to defend herself and Lando against the accusations.

“I suppose it’s Steve Russell who mentioned something to you?” Amelia queried.

“Correct.” Adam nodded.

“George has always been jealous of Lando and I. He could never accept the fact that we didn’t like him, so he runs to his father and creates a false narrative. You remember what happened back in high school, when he spread those God awful rumours.” Amelia explained, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Adam and Harold exchanged a troubled glance, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place as they considered Amelia's words.

“Lando, I know you’ve done some questionable business before, but you need to assure us that you have not and will not involve Amelia in any of that.” Adam began, his voice filled with concern

“Of course not, I swear.” Lando lied, the weight of his deception heavy on his conscience. Lando met his father's gaze, his expression earnest as he spoke.

“I’ll choose to believe you, but if I find out that you’ve lied to me, Amelia, you will suffer the consequences.” Harold threatened his daughter.

Harold's words hung in the air like a dark cloud, his threat echoing with a chilling finality that sent a shiver down Amelia's spine. She swallowed hard, the weight of her father's warning settling heavily on her shoulders as she met his stern gaze with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“I understand.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of her father's anger.

Harold's expression softened slightly at her response, his eyes betraying a hint of sadness beneath their steely exterior.

“I hope you do.” He said quietly, his voice tinged with disappointment.

With a heavy sigh, Adam shot Lando a knowing look, a silent reminder of the gravity of their situation and the consequences of their actions. Lando met his father's gaze with a solemn nod, his own guilt weighing heavily on his conscience as he prepared to face the fallout of his deception.

And with that, the fathers disappeared back into the main hall, leaving Lando and Amelia alone with their thoughts and the weight of their secrets hanging heavy in the air. As they watched their fathers depart, a sense of unease settled over them, their minds racing with the implications of Harold's threat and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Lando reached out, gently placing a hand on Amelia's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“It's okay.” He murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself.”

Amelia nodded, her expression still clouded with guilt as she struggled to come to terms with the weight of her deception. 

“I've never lied to my father before. At least not about something this big.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Lando squeezed her shoulder gently, offering her a small smile of encouragement.

“Sometimes we have to do things we never thought we'd have to do. But you have me, so you shouldn’t have to worry.” He said quietly.

Despite Amelia's outward strength and independence, Lando had always seen the vulnerable side of her that lay beneath the surface. She may have excelled in martial arts and possessed an impressive knowledge of cars, but he knew that deep down, she still craved the reassurance and comfort that came from being truly understood and accepted.

Growing up as an only child, Amelia had often felt the weight of loneliness pressing down on her, her solitude echoing in the empty spaces of her heart. But Lando had been there for her every step of the way, his presence a constant source of support and companionship in a world that often felt cold and indifferent.

He had always made sure that she never had to face her struggles alone, dragging her along to parties and introducing her to new people, determined to keep her from feeling isolated or forgotten. In those moments of shared laughter and camaraderie, Amelia had found a sense of belonging that she had never known before, her heart lightened by the warmth of Lando's friendship and the love of his family.

Despite his efforts to focus on the task at hand, Lando couldn't shake the persistent dreams that had haunted him for years. In those dreams, Amelia always appeared as an ethereal figure, her presence radiant and pure, like an angel clothed in white. She seemed too good for the troubles that surrounded them, and yet she remained steadfast by his side, her unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness.

But even as Lando grappled with his feelings for Amelia, another complication arose in the form of Zara. She was caught in the tangled web of their lives, aware of the special connection that existed between Lando and Amelia. Despite her best efforts to ignore it, Zara couldn't help but notice the way their gazes lingered a moment too long or the way their hugs held a hint of longing.

It was a forbidden dance, one in which they were unable to express the depths of their true feelings for each other. And as Lando found himself torn between his loyalty to Amelia and his growing affection for Zara, he couldn't help but wonder if there would ever come a time when they could cast aside the shackles of their secrets and embrace the love that had always been just out of reach.

“I think I might just kill George, honestly.” Amelia grunted as they made their way towards the main venue. Lando glanced at Amelia, a mixture of concern and amusement flickering in his eyes at her blunt statement.

“As satisfying as that might be at the moment, I don't think it would solve our problems.” He replied, his voice tinged with wry humour. Amelia huffed a laugh, her frustration evident in the way she walked, her steps heavy with determination.

“Maybe not.” She conceded, her tone sharp with frustration. “But it sure would feel good.”

Lando placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, offering her a small smile of understanding. 

“I know it's frustrating, Amelia, but let's focus on getting through tonight first. We can deal with George and his family tomorrow.” He said softly. Amelia nodded, her expression softening slightly at his words.

“You're right.” She admitted, her anger beginning to subside in the face of his calming presence.

As the charity gala unfolded around them, Lando stayed close to Amelia's side, his presence a reassuring warmth against the backdrop of the elegant ballroom. They moved together on the dance floor, their steps perfectly synchronised as they swayed to the rhythm of the music. Lando's hand rested gently on the small of Amelia's back, guiding her with a gentle touch that spoke volumes of his care for her.

In between dances, they found a quiet corner where they could steal a moment alone. Lando brushed a stray lock of hair away from Amelia's face, his touch feather-light against her cheek as he gazed at her with affection. They shared stories and laughter, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they revelled in each other's company.

As they made their way to the buffet table, Lando's hand found hers, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent gesture of solidarity. He watched with adoration as Amelia's eyes lit up with delight at the sight of her favourite dishes, his heart swelling with love at the simple joy she found in the little things.

Throughout the evening, Lando remained attuned to Amelia's needs, offering her a comforting arm when she grew tired and a supportive shoulder when she needed someone to lean on. And as the night drew to a close, they found themselves reluctant to part ways.

“Just come home with me.” Lando suggested as they made their way out of the lavish hotel.

“I can’t.” Amelia whispered, not meeting his eye.

“I don’t want you going home alone and dealing with your father.” Lando explained.

“Lan, I have work in the morning.” She argued, finally glancing up at him.

“Then I will take you to work.” He countered, ever resilient in his pursuits.

“Lan.” She mumbled as he started leading her to his parked McLaren.

As Lando led her towards the sleek, powerful McLaren, a rush of emotions flooded Amelia's mind. It felt surreal, almost like a dream, to have Lando pleading with her to come home with him. The memories of their past encounters flickered through her mind like a reel of film, each moment etched in vivid detail.

Their first time together, the raw passion and intensity of their connection, still lingered in her memory. She could almost feel the heat of his touch, the electric thrill of their bodies moving as one in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.

And then there was that unforgettable night in the kitchen, when they were both overcome with desire and couldn't resist each other any longer. The sound of their breathless moans echoed in her ears as they lost themselves in each other's arms, the sensation of his lips on her skin still sending shivers down her spine.

But then, inexplicably, it had all stopped. The intimacy between them faded away, leaving behind a gaping void that Amelia struggled to fill. In the midst of her day-to-day life, she found herself consumed by thoughts of Lando, her body responding instinctively to the mere memory of his touch.

On those days when the longing became too much to bear, she sought solace in the arms of Charles, her body craving the release that only he could provide. But even in those moments of pleasure, it was Lando's name that echoed in her mind, his image filling her thoughts as she surrendered to the fantasy of what could have been.

As they reached the McLaren and Lando opened the door for her, Amelia felt a rush of anticipation course through her veins. She would allow herself to indulge in the fantasy, to lose herself in the intoxicating allure of Lando's embrace. And as they drove off into the night, she knew that for just a few precious hours, she would be able to forget about the uncertainties of tomorrow and simply revel in the ecstasy of the present moment.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 02)

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

THE NEXT DAY

The Ettrick was the best pub in town, and you could smell the spicy blend of their famous curry halfway down the block. It was close enough to Pidge’s house to walk but far enough to be a bit of a trek, and so you were trailing behind her and Hamish as you made your way out to dinner. Hamish had called up some friends, and Pidge had done the same, for a little impromptu celebration party. You were not a fan of crowds, really, but you had promised yourself (in some small secret way) that you would be the best maid of honor there ever was for your best friend. If that meant partying down at the local bar, so be it. 

After bringing you and Pidge your morning coffees, Johnny had taken his Jeep and sped off somewhere, saying he “needed to clear his head.” But, even though he promised to show up to dinner tonight, you doubted he would show. Pidge had rolled her eyes and shrugged at you, expressing her doubt as well. 

You weren’t supposed to be worried about him though. You needed to focus on the goal: Pidge having fun. Be fun. She needed you to be fun. Smile, or something, c’mon. Your internal pep talks exhausted you, and you grew frustrated with yourself. Surely you could stand to be in a crowd for just an evening?

Lachlan Black, Hamish’s man of honor and college roommate, was already at the restaurant. You could tell because his lime green Aventador was parked out front, covering both the street and the sidewalk and shining like a penny. Stepping around it as carefully as you would a coiled snake, you squeezed past the car, making sure not to even breathe too roughly on it. 

When Hamish opened the door for you, you stepped inside to find Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise already waiting for Pidge, half-circled around Lachlan and Johnny like hungry birds - waiting to be fed more sweet nothings, you assumed. The three girls were Pidge’s friends from grammar school. They had grown up with Johnny and Pidge, and they knew them well, but they were not the most reliable bunch. If there was a party, they would turn up, but if you needed a ride to the airport, better call someone else. There was a reason none of them made the cut for maid of honor. 

“Pigeon!” Johnny shouted from his end of the bar. 

He had changed clothes, and he was in a half-open, rolled-sleeve button down with a pair of black canvas pants. Casual, but he looked like he was built to party. Lachlan, on the other hand, looked like he owned the party. You didn’t know what kind of fabric his clothes were made out of - probably something to do with baby alpacas - and he was shining all over. His high (surgery-induced?) cheekbones and bright blond hair made him look like a movie star, and the girls doted on him as if he was one. He had thrown an arm around Cherise, and she seemed perfectly content to be nestled there in his expensive armpit. 

Johnny hugged Pidge and shook Hamish’s hand. He didn’t know what to do to you, so he just leaned back against the bar and shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling at you and mouthing the ghost of a “hey.” You did the same, matching that awkward energy and immediately regretting it. 

“Hey, babes,” Lachlan smiled at you in a sort of sneer, “Aren’t you that bird from…New York?”

“Florida,” you corrected, tearing your eyes away from Johnny’s and looking hard at Hamish’s friend.

“Right, well,” he took a swig of his whisky, “All the same, innit?”

Hamish shook his hand, and then, he sort of pulled him off balance a bit to speak to him closer,

“No, mate, it isn’t.”

They laughed, but you could tell that Lachlan had been temporarily cowed. 

“Good to see you again,” Cherise kissed you in the French sort of way, the imaginary cheek smooches that you were supposed to have memorized when you crossed the pond. Did you lean left first or right?

“You, too, Cherise. Glad you could come,” you tried to be as friendly as you could, but Cherise was into her own ventures and there wasn’t much that could shake her from that. She was tucked back into Lachlan’s side, trying to return herself into his missing rib. If she just squeezed in close enough, maybe…

“Can I get you a drink, from one Of Honor to the next?” Lachlan showed you his teeth again. White. Straight. Sharp.

Before you could say a word, Johnny moved in front of him and held out an outstretched hand. He gave you a full whisky cocktail, complete with an orange rind on top - something Pidge already had a copy of - and shrugged,

“Sorry, mate. You can get the next one, yeah? Here ya go, bonnie.”

The way he looked at you was meant to be dismissive, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to look at you at all. Johnny barely glanced your way, pale irises hiding under thick, dark eyelashes that then quickly fixed themselves back down at the counter. But, the look in your eyes must have called him by his name, because he found himself caught in the snare of you. His gaze met yours in a second glance and studied your skin, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your mouth, covered in sticky gloss and glitter, shining under the warm glow of the bar. 

You watched him study you, his enormous Adam’s apple bobbing along his scruffy throat as he swallowed, and his face wore a mask of heightened uncertainty and… rejection? You couldn’t tell what emotion he was trying hard not to outwardly express. It was not a swoon, that was for sure. It looked as if he was concerned. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you broke away from him, muttering a thanks for the drink. Staring down at your hands, suddenly feeling insecure, you became hyper-aware of everything he could have seen and had apparently found wanting. 

A soft hand grabbed you around the arm and pulled you in,

“C’mon,” Pidge said, “Let’s get a booth.”

You took a sip of your cocktail as you were dragged away by your friend, and the whisky stung you like a hornet. One of these would be enough to put you down, and Christ did you want to be put down. 

Seeing Johnny dressed like that had been enough to shake your determination, but his look of dismissal or distaste (or whatever it was) had shattered your self-esteem. To make matters worse, you couldn’t get away from him for a single second. He had given you a drink at the bar. He walked behind you as you moved deeper into the pub, and he slid around the slick pleather crescent of the booth seat, finally sandwiching you between him and his sister - the last nail in your coffin. You could smell his cologne, a musky, woodsy scent that mixed with his earthy citrus that you knew so well. You remembered the arch of his muscular shoulders as he squeezed himself into the seat, and you could almost taste his sweet breath on your tongue as he talked over you to his sister. If you were still in grade school, you thought about having to write: “I will not fuck my best friend’s brother” five hundred times on the chalkboard - or however many it took for it to sink in. How many sticks of chalk would turn to dust just to slake your forbidden thirst? 

You felt his huge thigh, warm and tight, press against your bare leg through his slacks. The thin cotton was a poor barrier, and all you could think about was the skin underneath it. Was it covered in dark coarse hair? Shaved smooth like a swimmer? Did it have black, inky tattoos or jagged scars? Sharing his heat was unimaginably difficult to deal with. Your body stirred, wondering why you were hiding your interest from him. Your traitorous heart was joyful like a bird with a juicy worm, expecting revelry and finding only cold, white-knuckled repression.

“A wee toast!” Johnny lifted his cup, smiling in that half-cocked way that he wore in all of his photos, “To Hammie and Pigeon; and whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, this happy harmony would make them none. Congratulations, sister. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath!” The tables’ voices rang out with proud approval. 

Pidge rolled her eyes, but she wore a sweet smile,

“Thank you, Johnny boy. That was not the toast I was expectin’ from you, you weapon.”

Johnny, who had been wearing an innocent grin, turned it into a cunning one that a wolf might wear,

“Ya mean, this one?”

“No, Johnny, don’t -” Pidge tried to pull him down, reaching over you to get at his arm.

He broke through her grip as if she was a petulant child, and stood, raising his glass and his voice so that the entire pub could enjoy his toast,

“Let’s drink our drop o’ barley bree,” boisterous cheering came from the older menfolk who recognized the rhyme, “Though moon and stars should blink tae’gether, to each leal lad wi’ kilted knee…” a pause for effect prompted raucous whistles and table-pounding, “and a bonnie lass among the heather!”

Loud, jeering applause filled the cozy room, and Hammie was being shoved by his mates, blushing like a nun. Pidge cut a sharp glare at her brother, red not for shame but for fraternal rage. 

You wanted to stick up for her, being stuck between them as you were. So, you put on a wry smile and raised your eyebrows to deliver your sarcasm,

“Wow, Sergeant, didn’t realize you were such a poet.”

While he was laughing and basking in the crude attention, he now paused and swiveled his head over to you, looking at you intentionally this time, and there was no second take. He laughed a little lower, and looked ruffled that you would challenge his poetic authority. He needed to save face, so he made quite a show of clearing his throat and settled himself nice and close to you before he said,

“Perhaps the bonnie lass would like to hear another?”

You noted his tone on the callback line, and you shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Of that quality? No, thank you,” you tried to erase all traces of interest from your voice. 

He was not to be deterred. Johnny’s face turned serious, and he delivered the next lines as earnestly and without satire, taking your request to heart,

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go, always a little further. It may be beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow, across that angry or that glimmering sea…” 

When he stopped his performance, the applause and the cheering erupted again, praising him for his fancy delivery. Thinking he’d won your little challenge, he took a big sip of his own straight whisky and grinned like a cat who caught the mouse. You snuffed it out with the frigid precision only a graduate student would possess,

“White, on a throne, or guarded in a cave,” you enunciated as clearly as you could, matching his volume, and you watched as his pompous attitude was extinguished. He froze, just like a fox caught in a trap, staring at you with wonder. You continued, 

“There lives a prophet who can understand why men were born. But, surely we are brave…”

He said the last line with you, his face blank in disbelief and his voice almost a whisper,

“Who take the golden road to Samarkand.”

More cheering than before. You’d won. You borrowed his smug attitude and looked at him, sipping your drink as he did, pleased as punch. He looked wounded but blissfully happy about it. Everyone around you went back into their conversations, chittering and drinking and eating the appetizers that were waiting for you. But, Johnny kept you locked in his sights, staring back like he was seeing you again for the first time, just like when he thought you were a thief. You wondered what it was that you had stolen this time. His pride? The other bridesmaids’ admiration?

“You know Flecker?”

You nodded,

“I’m at Glasgow. Doing a bit of graduate work in poetry, actually. Shakespeare, to be specific.”

You tried to be casual about it. In truth, the “bit” of work was a mountain, and if you were being “specific”, you could talk for days and still not cover the details in full. But, normal people didn’t want to hear about that sort of thing. 

Johnny was about to say something with a wide grin on his lips, but it fell as soon as Lachlan interrupted from across the booth’s table,

“My father is an Emeritus at Glasgow. He’s hardly in residence, but he could help you get into the ARG, if I put in a good word.”

There it was again, that sharpness. You smiled genuinely, refusing to be unsettled by his intrusion and his mention of the invitation-only advanced research group, 

“I’m running my own research in the ARG now, actually. But, thank you. That’s very generous.”

Johnny was speechless for a moment, but there was something dark roiling around in him as he cut his eyes at Lachlan,

“Aye, mate. Very generous. Did you attend uni as well, or just your da?”

A cruel dig. Everyone knew that Lachlan hadn’t been accepted to his father’s own department. Johnny was dragging out the skeletons of his vast, walk-in closet, a dog with a bone. 

Lachlan Black was not one to be bullied, though, 

“I went on invitation to Oxford, actually. A full merit scholarship…”

Johnny wasn’t done playing with his food,

“Och! Of course. I've been forgetful lately. And what, uh…degree was it, then?”

Silent tension struck the table like a too-tight guitar string, ready to pop someone across the cheek. Lachlan was clearly rattled, but he recovered with ease. He took a sip of his nearly empty glass and rose as if to get a refill, reigning hellfire as he did so,

“I had already made my first million by the end of my starting year. So, I thought I’d leave the monastery to the monks, right boyo?”

Lachlan stayed standing over the table for a beat, making sure the dog he’d kicked stayed down. Johnny didn’t produce a comeback, but he was close enough to you that you could feel his body prepare itself to deliver one in a more physical format.

When Lachlan left the table, Cherise in tow, Pidge spoke across you again,

“Johnny! What’s gotten into you?”

Her brother rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to you, emboldened somehow even in defeat, 

“Another round, hen?”

He pointed to your glass, and you nodded,

“Sure, but let me get it. Pidge? Do you want another?”

“Yes! And tell them to bring two tequilas. My wee brother is driving me to drink.”

“I’ll help you carry ‘em back. C’mon, then,” Johnny held his hand out to help you out of the booth, and as you slid your fingers across his palm, he grabbed it with confidence.

He led you to the other side of the bar, as far from Lachlan as he could get, and let you place the order. You sat on the stool to wait and he stood beside you, one arm on the bar and one on the back of your chair, caging you in,

“So, Shakespeare, huh?”

“Yep,” you nodded, hesitating to elaborate. 

“You’re after his poems, I take it?” Johnny’s face looked like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

You sighed, steeling yourself for the ordeal of telling someone all about your project only for them to respond in the most milquetoast way. You told him,

“I’m trying to determine why Sonnet 145 has such an abnormal structure. Some scholars have even claimed that Shakespeare didn’t compose it. It’s the black sheep of the collection, and I am performing an analysis on its rhyme scheme and meter.”

“Do you know it by heart?” He asked, practically begging for a performance. 

“Here are your drinks, love. Tha’s twenty pound,” the barkeep stopped you from delivering your encore. 

You paid him and balanced the cups in your hand. Johnny took the majority of the burden and made his way back through the crowd with you trailing behind him.

“Ahh!” Pidge squealed with pleasure, “Shots! C’mon, babe. Show these nuggets how it’s done in America. This girl’s a real cowgirl, she is. Watch this.”

You grabbed the salt from the center of the table, shy and miffed at Pidge’s callout, and licked the meat of your thumb to wet it. You sprinkled the salt on it and reached for the lime. Then, you licked the salt, downed the shot, and sucked on the flesh of the fruit, keeping your face as straight as an arrow. Pidge clapped with joy. 

“Okay, me next.”

“That’s quite the process, cowgirl,” Hamish commented, admiring your shot-taking ritual.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that downtown Miami didn’t have any cows, but you just smiled, folding yourself back up into hiding in the booth. The conversations left you behind and your head began to swim from the alcohol. By the time everyone was ready for their next beverage, you were done. Pidge didn’t notice. She’d moved on to champagne and spritzers. You were alone in a crowded room again, as usual. 

“Hey, you feelin’ alright, bonnie?”

Johnny’s voice seemed too quiet for a loud bar. You smiled weakly, 

“Mmm. Just drank too much, I think.”

“C’mon. I’ll get you home.”

Before you could protest, he was helping you out of the booth and onto your feet. You heard Pidge shriek,

“Johnny! What did I say?!”

“Pigeon! Is that really what you think o’ me? Gonna tuck her in, and tha’s it. I’ll be right back.”

“I swear on Christ and -”

“Yeah, yeah, and all the actual saints. I heard you, you wee dafty. I promise. Not a hair on her head, yeah?”

“You can touch all the hairs on my head, Soap,” Bekah cackled, and the table laughed with her. 

Johnny laughed too, which felt like a knife twisting in your chest for some reason. You’d forgotten all about his nickname. Everyone except Pidge used it for him. You thought it was a callsign for the military, but you’d never had to call him anything, so you didn’t remember. But, Bekah did. She called him the right name. You had failed, obviously. Put it on my tab , you thought. You screamed it in your mind, punishing yourself for your mistake: Soap, Soap, Soap…

“C’mon,” he held you by the arm, “I’m out back.”

He loaded you into his Jeep and climbed into the driver’s side, adjusting the knobs for air and music. Some early aughts alt rock was blaring too loudly, and he cut it down, apologizing under his breath. His car smelled like cigarettes and beach sand. It was cleaner than it should’ve been. You felt too hot and too cold, and you wanted to sleep, so you did. 

You woke with a jolt after the short ride had ended, and he had you in his arms, nestled close to his chest. He felt you come to and he whispered, 

“Shh, lass. We’re almost in. Gonna get you some water and a paracetamol, and you’ll be right as rain in the mornin’.”

“God,” you groaned, “Soap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really eat anything, and I -”

“Tha’s fine, hen. You’re alright. We’ve all been there, trust.”

He deposited you on his bed, pulling off your shoes and tucking you in. Then, he was gone and back in a flash of your semi-unconscious state. He handed you the pills and the water. It was cool in your hot mouth. 

“Here, lass. Take that for me. Tha’s it. Good girl.”

You groaned, feeling sick with drunken stupor and sick with drunken desire all at the same time. 

“And, hey,” he bent his face so he was eye-level with you as you lay back down, “Call me Johnny.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 03

[ashestoashes7]

NEIL WEARING ANDREW'S CLOTHESSSSS <33333

happy wip wednesdayyy

Thank you! I’m excited to start this one

WIP Wednesday

- Sharing Clothes -

It started with a jacket.

The Foxes rarely ventured out during preseason, but after an invitation was extended and Kevin’s antsiness reached the threshold of unbearable, Coach Wymack decided to accept the invitation before the campus police would be forced to launch a murder investigation. Andrew could practically see the headlines—Son of Exy: Murdered By Jealous Teammates?

They weren’t jealous, and Andrew was sure if the jury knew the torture that was weeks of Kevin’s undivided and unrestrained criticism, they would consider it a public act of service.

So, in an attempt to avoid telling the ERC yet another teammate had met a painful demise, the Foxes were crammed onto the traffic cone of the bus and shipped out to the lovely home of the Wilkes-Meyer Hornets. According to Neil, they were tolerable. But in the opinion of Neil ‘I’m fine’ Josten that could mean anything that wasn’t actively trying to murder them, so Andrew wasn’t getting his hopes up.

The moment the bus came to a lurching stop, Wymack made his first mistake of the night and charged Andrew with waking up the two sleeping Foxes. His words and cross-armed demeanor were bold, but the resignation buried in his eyes revealed it for what it was—a bribe.

It wasn’t whisky, but the idea of fucking with a sleeping Kevin was pleasing enough for Andrew to accept before Wymack could take back his decision and bring them back to the waking world through a much less enjoyable manner.

Next—>

[wheredafandomat]

Carnal desires

Loki x female reader

18+| contains smut, a lot of smut and like barely any plot. My smut feels so repetitive 🙄 or is it just meeee?? Anyways I thought let’s change it up a bit with diff scenarios - these will be very random 😂

Scenario: imagine you and Loki being at some kind of party together maybe with friends etc and the drunker you both get the more you’re giving each other the eye, the I wanna tear your clothes off and bang you right here eyes but you know you can’t so you occasionally smile knowing that as soon as you get home it’s game over.

“I think we’re going to head home now.” You announce, refusing the shot being offered to you by Natasha.

“Home? The nights just beginning.” She insists, looking around at your peers for support.

“Me and Loki need to be up early tomorrow” you lie “besides, I’ve already had too much to drink.”

“Yes, me too.” Loki agreed, wondering why you both had to be up tomorrow.

“Yep, so we better be going.” You smile politely at everyone, grabbing Loki’s hand before dragging him out of the club and slamming your lips onto his in a kiss that leaves you both dizzy.

“Why do we have to be up early tomorrow?” He asks breathlessly.

“We don’t.” You answer, kissing him again before breaking the kiss to order an Uber.

The whole journey you and Loki barely pull apart, either kissing each other or subtly touching hoping that the driver is none the wiser. The more your lips moved against one another’s, the slower the kiss was as if you were savoring the flavour of whisky on his tongue. His lips moved to your neck as your head fell back against the headrest behind you, granting him further access as your eyes fell closed before feeling the car come to a stop.

“Loki, baby, we’re home.” You spoke, making him look up at you as the driver cut his eye at you in the rear view mirror.

“Home.” He repeated, pausing his administrations before getting out of the car and almost falling as he sped to your side of the car, opening the door. You stepped out, Loki offering his arm for support as you walked back towards the apartment.

The elevator ride up was passed with giggling and quick pecks before you finally reached home. You struggled putting the key in the door as Loki kissed your neck from behind you. Once you were finally inside, you almost tripped in before Loki caught you, spinning you around to face him before pulling you into a passionate kiss. He pressed you against the wall, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, kicking the door closed in the process.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night.” He spoke between kisses, unbuttoning his shirt, the both of you sobering up a little at the prospect of finally being able to give into your carnal desires. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off of you.” He continued, leaving open mouth kisses across your collar bones. You pushed his shirt off of him before running your hand down his bare chest, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to touch his skin. Your hand ventured lower before you moved it against his growing length still covered by his trousers.

“Oh I think I have an idea.” You grinned as Loki lifted your dress. You helped free his cock knowing that this was going to be a quick, hard fuck. There wasn’t going to be any pleasantries exchanged, this was going to be two people chasing their orgasms like a moth to a flame. Your head fell back against the wall behind you as he lifted one of your legs, securing it against his waist as he used his free hand to venture between your thighs.

“You didn’t wear any panties” he almost cooed “good girl.”

You bit your lip at the praise, hearing the sound of his fingers gliding through your slick folds. You continued palming him before he retracted his fingers, spreading your arousal along his length before pressing it against your entrance. Your lips met as he entered you. He set a fast pace, fucking you against the wall as your moans filled the space. His hand crashed against the wall next to your head as he steadied himself, feeling your walls gripping him. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he continued moving against you. You were both so close, Loki panting in your ear as you dug your nails into his back, moaning his name.

“I’m gonna cum.” He spoke in your ear, licking the shell of it as you spoke incoherently, saying a variation of the same. He thrust a few more times before stilling his movements, shooting his load deep inside of you spurring on your own orgasm. You stayed like that for a few moments, unmoving, basking in your joint high before you felt a mixture of you both leaking out of you as Loki began to pull out. You smiled to yourself knowing that sex like this was always followed by a shower together.

Scenario: imagine inviting Loki over for dinner at your parents house before they suggest you both stay the night considering it’s late now and home is a long drive away.

“Loki we can’t” you insisted, deciding to give him a hand job instead of the full throttle which is what you both truly desired “my parents are right next door.”

“Then we’re just going to have to be very quiet aren’t we.” He winked, turning his head towards you and kissing you.

“We can’t.” You said again, breaking the kiss as you tried to stroke him to completion knowing that feeling his erection against you all night was going to make you give in and ride him to the high heavens so it was better this way.

“Say you don’t want to and we won’t.” He assured, looking into your eyes lovingly as you narrowed your gaze at the annoyingly handsome man. Of course you wanted to. Wordlessly, you stopped the movement of your hand around his cock and kissed him. Loki made his way on top of you, pressing you against the bed as you widened your legs, welcoming him between them. Reaching between you both, Loki pulled your panties to the side as his cock rested against your hipbone.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, looking down at you.

“Gosh, yes.” You stressed before Loki smiled, mostly to himself and entered you slowly. You instantly regretted this, the feeling euphoric as he bottomed out. It was going to be torture to keep silent.

“You feel so good.” He grunted, thrusting into you.

“Shh.” You answered, eyes tightly shut as you tried to focus on not making a sound. He moved slowly, not wanting the headboard to bang against the wall but it made the feeling even more overwhelming. He filled you completely, barely pulling out before filling you again. You felt him everywhere, shrouding you as you bit into his shoulder trying to stifle your moans. He moved his hips differently, grinding into you as your eyes flew open.

“Fuckk Lokii.” You panted.

“Shh.” He warned cheekily, continuing his movements as you clenched your walls around him causing his eyes to roll backwards. Before long he was whispering in your ear, telling you how perfect you were, how good you felt as you quietly moaned, your climax threatening to consume you. One of your hands played with his hair as he increased his pace, his words turning into breathy moans as you both lost control. Needless to say, Loki was never invited to stay over again.

Scenario: now imagine being an Avenger and avenger Loki takes a bullet for you during a mission. Despite being on the same team, you didn’t get along very well so this was shocking to say the least and definitely definitely erotic.

Once you got back from the mission, Loki was carried away to the infirmary whilst you followed along, wanting to ensure he was alright considering he had lost a lot of blood. Despite being shot, he asked you if you were alright after shoving you out of the way of the bullet which left you falling to the floor. You quickly nodded before his leg gave way, sending him to the ground as you called for backup. Since then, you had been comforting him on the journey home despite not being on the best of terms with Loki most of the time.

“Y/n, we’ll take it from here.” Banner stopped you, gesturing to himself and the nurse accompanying him.

“No, I want to go in too, I promised.” You insisted, strangely protective of Loki.

“You can visit him once he’s stable.” He stated, Steve pulling you backwards before you gave up, knowing he was in safe hands. Ignoring whatever pep talk Steve was giving you, you made your way to your room, slamming the door behind you before making your way into the shower.

The water streamed through your hair and down your body as you replayed the mission. If you weren’t so careless with your danger perception, Loki would be fine right now. This was all your fault.

You changed into some comfortable clothes before making your way back to the medwing where Thor was leaving Loki’s room. You felt nauseous, expecting Thor to reprimand you for allowing his brother to be harmed but instead he hugged you.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” He spoke into the crook of your neck as you hugged him back.

“How’s Loki?” You asked, confused as to why Thor wasn’t angry.

“He’s fine, just asleep, however Banner said that if the bullet had hit you, it probably would have been fatal.” He continued as you paled.

“Fatal.” You uttered, shocked at the prospect of having potentially died today.

“It was vibranium, it would have severed your artery and gone straight through you. You humans are very fragile, too mortal.”

“Oh” you answered, still shocked “yes.”

“But don’t fret” he beamed, breaking the hug “you’re healthy and Loki is fine, he’s already healing.”

“Good.” You smiled.

“Come on, let’s go get something to eat, he’ll be awake later on and you’ve probably not eaten since breakfast.” Thor suggested. You went with him, thinking about how Loki had saved your life.

Once you had eaten, you went back down to the infirmary hoping that Loki was awake now. Through the blinds you could already see that he was. You knocked the door before pushing it open, eyes meeting Loki’s.

“You know you really are stupid.” You spoke.

“Oh no, I know” he dismissed, waving one of his hands “I take a bullet for the girl and she berates me.” He huffed, causing you to smile, him mirroring it.

“How are you?” You asked, making your way to him.

“Well my thigh is killing me and now I’ve got to call the nurse to change the dressing.” He answered.

“Oh don’t bother calling the nurse, I’ll do it.” You offered knowing it was the least you could do.

“You can change a dressing?” He asked incredulously.

“You can change a dressing” you mocked, mimicking him “yes I can change a dressing, I can also stitch together a wound and roundhouse kick you to the floor.” You warned.

“Oo, scary.” He grinned.

“Come on, let me see.” You prompted, sitting at the edge of the bed as he uncovered his thigh. You were intrigued by how much it had healed already and couldn’t help but run your hand around the area. Loki watched you as you stared down at the cut intensely before feeling your hand just a little too high causing him to flinch.

“Stop!”

“Sorry.” You quickly apologised leaving him regretting his outburst.

“I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just—” he began before pausing.

“Yes?”

“I’m-I’m a little—sensitive.” He rushed out.

“oh OH oh, sorry, yes of course.” You answered, ignoring how flushed you felt at the realisation before you exchanged an awkward smile with Loki and began setting out the things you needed from his bedside table.

Loki bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to focus on remaining as flaccid as he could despite how tenderly you were touching him. It felt impossible, like pushing a huge boulder up a mountain although, he was sure he could muster up enough seidir to do even that unlike this. Sweat began beading on his forehead, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he wondered how long this was going to take. He tried to remove his focus from you and your dainty little hands and how they’d look caressing him and focus on something more morbid instead. Asgard burning, No, NO, he scolded himself thinking about how much he’d like that. Right, think of something else, he began internally until you interrupted.

“Um” you uttered, just above a whisper noticing that Loki was now sporting a semi. Hearing you, Loki was aghast as he realised.

“Oh norns, y/n, I’m so sorry.” He apologised.

“No it’s fine, it’s nice—NATURAL, it’s natural” you quickly corrected yourself before dropping the gauze which fell under the bed. Huffing, you made your way onto the floor to pick them back up before lifting your head and realising that you were now kneeling between Loki’s legs, eye level with his erection. You glanced up at him as he looked down at you with an unreadable expression as you began talking, unable to stop yourself. “Well considering this is all my fault” you began, running your hand up his uninjured thigh “maybe I should take care of your little problem.”

“Little?” Loki scoffed before apologising as you rolled your eyes.

Licking your lips, you freed his cock, moving your hand up and down it soothingly as Loki released a breath. Moving closer, you lowered your head before licking the tip of his cock, reveling in the taste of him. You took him in your mouth, flicking the tip with your tongue as Loki began to pant. One of his hands bunched up into she sheet below him as you sucked his cock, picking up his free hand and placing it against the back of your head to guide your movements.

“Oh y/n, who knew you were so naughty” he sniggered, hips thrusting up a little as you deepthroated him “naughty naughty girl.”

You wrapped your hand around the base of his length, looking up at him as you sucked just the tip, a smirk painting his face. You continued until you felt his body tensing, hips stuttering as he came into your mouth, you swallowing.

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the corner of your mouth as you released him, standing back up. “Well that’s one way of thanking me” he smiled “I should take bullets more often.”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to anybody.” You warned.

“Of course.” He assured before you spun on your heels to leave and relieve the tension growing in your abdomen at the sight of Loki’s erect cock let alone the taste.

“Y/n wait” he called after you, “the wound.” But you were already gone.

Now I want more 😂 hope you enjoyed! The last one was my favourite

Tags:

@lokisninerealms @lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @lokilvrr @evelyn-kingsley @strangelockd @xorpsbane @lovingchoices14 @donaweasley @sailorholly