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forcefulkitten · 4 years ago

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bare my burden

[illumi zoldyck x fem! reader]

summary: feeling powerless and out of control due to his mission not going as planned, Illumi makes you feel the same way.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, rough sex, deepthroating, face-fucking

word count: 1,956

It had been a week since your husband, Illumi Zoldyck, left the estate to complete a mission. He said he’d be back two days ago, and he wasn’t back yet. Punctual as he is, he normally arrived before he estimated. You liked to lie to yourself by thinking he did this to surprise you by his early arrival, but you know that he actually used his timeframes as a deadline and made sure to complete things before then.

The weather out was gloomy on this evening.. Storm clouds filled the sky and heavy rain fell right onto the buds of the beautiful flowers in the Zoldyck Estate. It was always such a sight to see. You had just finished taking a relaxing bath, enjoying a cup of tea and were laying down under your warm comforter when you heard a familiar knock at the door. This knock was Illumi for sure, his signature way to let you know it was him and not one of the butlers. As unapologetic as he was, he always made sure to knock before entering. Two days after his predicted arrival, you were thrilled to finally have him back after missing him and being so worried that things had gone awry.

“Illumi~.” You sang in a tired voice when you heard your door open. Turning around to face him while laying in your bed, your eyes followed his muscular build walk straight into the bathroom as he closed the door behind himself. You thought nothing of this since Illumi loved to jump straight into the shower after he returned from a mission. As you lifted the comforter off your legs, you heard the bathroom door lock. ‘That’s weird’ you thought to yourself. Illumi never locked the bathroom door, since you two always showered together upon his return from a mission. It was routine that you’d jump in and help him clean off and unwind. You then heard the shower water start, and decided to lay back down. He was 2 days late and locked the door behind him, perhaps he needed some time alone. The sound of heavy rain hitting the windows, the warm comforter over you and the subconscious protected feeling of having Illumi back home quickly lulled you to sleep.

“Get up, Y/N.”

“Wake up. It’s too early to fall asleep for the night right now.”

“Y/N.”

You were woken up after hearing Illumi speaking sternly beside you and feeling his grip on your arm shaking you back into reality. You sat up rubbing your eyes and looking over at the time. It had only been an hour since you’d fell asleep and were grumbling that Illumi wouldn’t allow you some rest especially since he needed some as well.

“Illu.. I missed you. You were gone longer than you predicted. Did everything go as planned?” Finally opening your eyes completely and meeting Illumi’s glare, you took note of the scowl on his face. His glare was colder than normal, and if looks could kill then you’d be dead. This could’ve meant a million different things but you assumed it was regarding his mission and attempted to slice the tension in the room by leaning over to kiss Illumi. He leaned back and grabbed you by your chin. “No. It didn’t. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Illumi’s tone was sharp and full of annoyance. He knew that you could pick up on his moods and were always analyzing him to figure things out because the nature of his personality. It was going to be a long, merciless night. Illumi rarely became stressed out about his job. Years of torture masked as “training” subjected him to so many different scenarios that the man could quite possibly survive and endure anything. But when he felt powerless or out of control, you were the one person who felt that wrath while things were temporarily out of his reach. Illumi would always be sure to complete the job even if he has to restrategize, but not before subjecting you to the same feeling he has at the moment.

Illumi leaned back against the headboard and sighed. You crawled over and onto his lap, looking into his eyes that could burn a hole in hell if he wanted to. You wished he would melt into your touch but his frustration engulfed his tense body just like your desire to help him feel better. You fell into his hands so easily all the time, making it your number one responsibility to always ease Illumi into feeling like the human he never got a chance to be. You began to straddle his waist and wrapped your arms around Illumi’s shoulders, leaning your breasts against his chiseled chest. Threading your fingers through his hair while kissing and licking his neck, Illumi didn't give in to your ministrations. “Y/N,” Illumi spoke out, voice void of any emotion like usual and you leaned off of him to meet his gaze. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips into a harsh, needy kiss which made you moan out at the unexpected force. His tongue delved into your mouth aggressively, tongues dancing and heavy breaths eliciting from you that filled the previously strained room with lust. Illumi’s free hands grabbed your ass, playing with your cheeks before spreading them and bringing his hand to your already soaked pussy. He swiped at your wetness and brought his deft fingers to play with your clit. His fingers swirling perfectly, the coil in your stomach began to build while you moaned his name out desperately. Your hips grinded harder against his hand and you leaned in to make out with him, needing something to ground you from your growing orgasm. A few more ruts onto his hardened cock, swollen lips fighting each other and his fingers precisely rubbing your swollen bud made your orgasm hit quicker than you hoped and you rode out your high as much as Illumi allowed.

Your face was flushed, mind clouded and full of desperation for him to make love to you but you were snapped back into reality when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up while scooting himself off the bed. He took his briefs off, long slender cock springing out while you positioned yourself on your knees. When he looked down at you it was with dangerous eyes. You knew the pleasure you felt previously was only a build up for whatever merciless fuck he wanted to put you through right after he used your throat.

You began swirling your tongue around the tip of his length before attempting to take him in fully. Illumi’s cock is big, and you always had to focus on not hitting the back of your throat too quick. Before you could even bring Illumi’s sex fully into your mouth, he weaved his fingers in your hair and began bucking his hips into your mouth. Drool spilled out the sides while you’re focusing your breathing through your nose & bobbing your head back and forth. Low grunts left his lips and hearing his husky, lust filled noises made your entire body feel warm. You didn’t understand how gagging on his cock could bring you such euphoria. Bracing yourself to deepthroat him, you repositioned yourself to get the best angle and began slipping your mouth further onto his cock. You wanted to send him over the edge. This was a dangerous game to play with Illumi. His fingers that were laced in your hair found their way to your scalp and he then moved one hand to the back of your neck before slamming his cock all the way into your throat, your nose touching his body. Illumi’s quite literally fucking your face at this point, and you’re trying so hard not to pass out, squeezing his thighs with your fingers in hopes that he’ll notice you’re nearly past your limit. He continued his ministrations, bucking into your mouth hard just to chase his release. Black is starting to encompass your vision and you think you’re going to pass out before he pulls you off his cock. A slick line of spit from your mouth to his penis breaks and falls onto your chest and you finally bring air back into your lungs. Illumi looks at you with a dangerous, cold look, before grabbing your soaked chin and making you look at him. “Up, now.”

Illumi began kissing you while guiding you backwards onto your comfortable bed. Pushing your shoulders down once you fell seated onto the bed, he crawled above you, caging you between his arms. You leaned up, sucking and biting Illumi’s neck, trying to mark him up. Much to your surprise, he wasn't complaining or resisting even though he always verbalized how much he hated the look of hickies. Humping you slowly, you feel his aroused length prodding your inner thigh and shudder. You want him so badly. He can see that you’re practically begging him to have his way with you, release some tension, you want to feel close with him, you want him to know that he can let go of his frustration with you.

Illumi lined his cock up with your wet slick, rubbing the tip against your clit deliciously before inching himself all the way into your cunt. The stretch always so pleasantly painful. He began thrusting at a slower pace, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and hitting the perfect spot that made you moan out his name incoherently. Illumi leaned towards you, kissing and biting your neck, repaying you for leaving marks on him. You can hear his breathing hitch in your ear and it sent more arousal to your core. “Fuck.” Illumi moaned while continuing to thrust into you with perfect precision. Physically you were there with him, mentally you were on cloud 9. “You’re, squeezing me, so tight.” Illumi emphasized every word with a hard slam into your pussy, all of which threw you back into reality.

Grabbing both of your legs and folding them onto your body as far as they would go, Illumi brought you into a mating press. Using your ankles as leverage, he slammed into your abused cunt with all of his body weight. Each thrust forced a whimper out of your mouth and Illumi loved the helpless look on your face as he overpowered you. You could do nothing but enjoy the onslaught in this position. The room was filled with your wanton moans, his heavy breathing and it felt like everytime his cock hit your cervix that you were about to be sent over the edge. A few more heavy and hard thrusts caused the coil to break again, your orgasm coating your inner walls and spilling all over Illumi’s cock. He continued fucking into you as you came down from your high, so overstimulated at this point. His orgasm hit soon after, and his grip on you became even tighter. Desperate to ride out his orgasm, he continued plunging into you, slower and gentler while he filled your core with every drop of his seed. The feeling of his dick twitching in your cunt was amazing. Pulling out of your cunt, you missed the feeling of him inside you already. He released your legs from his hold, your legs falling onto the bed as he looked at you all fucked out and beautiful for him. Chest heaving, heavy lidded eyes, you stared back at him with adoration. “Feeling better, Illu?” Your words sounded desperate, almost sorry, and definitely vulnerable. Illumi leaned forward and kissed your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “A little, but I’m not done with you yet.”

#hxh illumi #illumi zoldyck #hxh smut #hxh imagines #illumi x reader #hunterxhunter #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #illumi smut #n/sfw #hxh scenarios #hxh #hxh writing #hxh x reader #hxh illumi zoldyck #hxh fanfic #hunterxhunter fanfic #hunter x hunter fanfic #forcefulkitten

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mermaidenisaacs · 5 years ago

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isaac has a fwb

it’s all fun and games until isaac catches feelings for his sneaky link. he’s certain she doesn’t feel the same and it’s killing him not to tell her. but he’s fine with pretending he’s fine. he’ll take what he can get, and anything is better than nothing at all.

friends with benefits, secret pining, workplace au, isaac’s a lawyer and he hates theo

warnings: graphic sexual language

“I just don’t understand why you have to wear tight skirts all the time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love me in tight skirts.”

“I like the view, yes. But they’re hard to take off. And the stupid zippers always get stuck.”

“Fair enough. But you’re cute when you’re frustrated, Lahey.”

She swiveled around, thwarting Isaac’s efforts to slide her respectably tight skirt down her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his curly hair, she mushed their lips together, effectively cutting off the beginning of his next verbal jab, triumphing in his muffled “mmph.”

“So, that’s it then?” Isaac mumbled, pulling away and redoubling his efforts on her neck, sucking on the tender flesh there. “You like torturing me? Walking around the office all day, teasing me in your absurdly tight clothes, just to get me riled up?”

“They’re not that tight,” she muttered. “And I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Isaac snorted. “Such a lawyer response.”

She scratched her nails across the breadth of Isaac’s broad shoulders before sliding her hands down his subtly defined chest. She began slowly undoing his Oxford blue button-down.

“Besides,” she continued, ignoring his quip, “you do the same thing. It’s really endearing how you strut around in fake glasses just to look smarter.”

Isaac didn’t even bother acting embarrassed; he knew he looked good in those glasses. He had decided to try on non-prescription glasses one day just as an accessory to switch up his look, but the positive reception from everyone was incentive to keep wearing them. He was in his late 20s but he still had a bit of a baby face, so the glasses also helped him come off older and more competent to potential clients.

Those were the only reasons he wore fake glasses. It had absolutely nothing to do with the time y/n came over to his apartment and drank three glasses of wine and drunkenly confessed to finding his glasses sexy.

“So what if I strut around in fake glasses?” he said. “Do they do something for you?”

She paused. “I plead the fifth.”

Isaac chuckled in amusement. He watched her undo his shirt and huffed in annoyance at her leisurely pace. He adored the woman in front of him, but few things frustrated Isaac as much as she did, from her parading around the law firm in her form-fitting pencil skirts and sweaters to her pulling him into storage closets and viciously attacking his lips minutes before really important staff meetings.

“If you keep going at this pace, we’re gonna miss Derek’s meeting,” Isaac complained. His squirming did not go unnoticed by her, who seized any chance to get under his skin.

“What’s the matter? Worried you won’t have enough time to kiss the boss’s ass?” she said, smirking at Isaac’s eye-roll. “Just so you know, it would be useless. Derek likes me better.”

And just like that, she had literally pushed Isaac’s last button. His hands found her hips and he spun her around. They were sandwiched between two tall shelves with Isaac pressed into her back. He aligned her with his cock, his arousal prominent against her ass.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” she teased.

Isaac swept away her hair from her neck and bit the supple flesh of her shoulder, eliciting a soft gasp that rang like music to his ears. He bunched up her skirt around her waist and was pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing any underwear, her bare ass exposed and already leaning into his touch.

“Fuck, really?” he said in disbelief. His mind went blank and he swiftly slapped her ass, evoking a surprised yelp from her. It was then that realized he had never done that before. He should’ve made sure it was okay first. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I liked it, actually,” she said, breathless, reaching behind her to tug on his hand. “But you should probably hurry up and get inside me before we miss the entire meeting, yeah?”

Isaac was taken aback for a moment. He had lost count of how many times he’d succumbed to her, fell unapologetically victim to her allure. Despite this, it floored him every time that she could be so assertive, so unabashedly direct about her desires. She used to be so shy and unsure when they first started hooking up.

It should be noted that the first time they fucked, it was by mistake (or so they told themselves).

It happened last year at Derek’s Christmas party. It involved mistletoe, Erica’s spiked eggnog, incoherently babbling her address to a cab driver, making out in the backseat, giggling between sloppy kisses, undressing each other, falling into her bed, sleeping in a tangle of bare limbs, blinding morning sunlight, throbbing hangovers, the crushing weight of reality.

And regret, or, “Let’s just forget this ever happened?” “Deal.”

That first time, they could blame it on the alcohol. Every other time after that--when Isaac texted her to come over and play girlfriend to get rid of a clingy one-night stand, when she let his fingers wander up her thigh during late nights at the office, and all the other times--they had nothing to blame but their own desires.

“Turn around,” Isaac murmured. “I need to see your eyes.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Every once in a while, Isaac would catch her off guard and say something unexpectedly sweet and romantic. It unnerved her. The last person who said sweet things to her was her ex boyfriend Theo. She believed all his sweet words, but in the end, he abandoned her and left her with nothing but trust issues and a broken heart.

Isaac got impatient and turned her around by her elbow, looking into her eyes and affectionately tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She tried her best not to squirm under his warm gaze. He looked like he was torn between wanting to worship her and devour her.

He cupped her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He used his other hand to palm her ass. He firmly squeezed the soft flesh and pulled her body flush against him. She wound her arms around his neck and squealed in surprise when Isaac swooped down to scoop her thighs and lock them around his waist.

“That’s better,” he murmured affectionately against her bruised lips. “You ready?”

She was having trouble finding her voice and managed to give him a meek nod.

“I need you to say it out loud, baby,” Isaac gently reminded her. He always asked her permission and it always surprised her. Her past involved a lot of men taking rather than asking.

“Yeah, I’m ready, please,” she whined.

Isaac kissed her once more and moistened the tip of his cock with her wetness, making her clench her thighs tighter around his hips. He buried his face into her neck and sponged kisses into her skin as he pushed in slowly, allowing her to acclimate to his size.

He pushed in deep, all the way to the hilt, trying to savor the feeling of being inside her. To Isaac, she felt like heaven. She was warm and wet and velvet and exquisite and he had to measure his movements for fear of accidentally hurting her.

She dug her nails into Isaac’s shoulder as he stretched her out, helplessly whimpering for him to start moving faster.

Isaac complied, retracting his hips just to slide back in again, cock freshly slick with her juices. As much as he wanted to take his time with her and make this moment last, he knew they were on the clock at work. He set up a faster rhythm, snapping his hips repeatedly into her warmth.

At one point, he had to clamp his hand over her mouth to contain her satisfied noises. Isaac loved hearing her moan knowing he was the reason, but they couldn’t afford to be loud lest a nosy co-worker should discover them in their compromising position.

“God, you feel incredible,” Isaac grunted into her ear. “You’re so fucking hot. I couldn’t even tell you all the filthy things I’ve imagined doing to you all day.”

“Really?” she panted breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah.” Isaac tightly gripped her ass as he pounded into her from below. “Please don’t stop wearing tight skirts. You look so sexy in them. You look so fucking sexy all the time,” he muttered.

She clung to the curls at the nape of his neck, clawed at his back, all but bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning loudly as he whispered sinful things into her ear.

“Fuck, Isaac,” she whimpered. “I can’t--I’m gonna--”

“Me too.”

After she came, she untangled herself from Isaac and kneeled in front of him. She swiveled her comparably small fist around his cock and kitten-licked the bright red head.

“Fuck,” Isaac breathed.

“I don’t want to make a mess,” she said matter-of-factly, grinning at his incredulous expression. “So come in my mouth, okay?”

Isaac groaned reflexively as her words sent him into euphoria. He released down her throat, coating her esophagus and her tongue with thick, gooey residue. He had to white-knuckle the shelf in front of him to avoid violently bucking his hips into her mouth. When he pulled out, he helped her back to her feet.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Isaac leaned against the shelf behind her. He observed her as she busied herself with pulling down her skirt and smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. Her gaze darted back and forth to anything that wasn’t Isaac as she combed through her disheveled hair and adjusted her clothing. Isaac grew concerned at her distracted behavior.

“Hey,” he said quietly. When she didn’t respond, he took hold of her elbow and stilled her. He gently brushed the sweat-damp hair away from her face. “You okay?”

It took her a second to process his concern. The truth was, she wasn’t really okay, and she was surprised that he could sense that. It had been a long, stressful morning, and coming down from the high of her pleasure brought on a fresh wave of dread: the end of her time with Isaac would mean having to return to work.

She was trying to hide it, but Isaac had picked up on her change in mood. She often forgot how incredibly sensitive he could be. They worked in a realm of cutthroat professionals who cared only about their own well-being, but he was different.

Isaac had once mentioned that he wished he was less sensitive. Being caring wasn’t the best quality for a lawyer to have. He viewed it as a weakness, but she disagreed. She knew that his being sensitive and observant and caring made him a better lawyer. His ability to connect with clients and the jury was the reason he was so successful.

Unfortunately, these same qualities helped him sift through her carefully curated exterior and know what she was really feeling. It was unnerving. She wasn’t used to being seen.

“Of course I’m alright,” she responded casually. She chuckled and shooed his hand away. “I’m just not looking forward to going back to work. Okay, how do I look?”

“Freshly fucked.” He laughed at the scandalized expression on her face.

“Isaac!” She playfully swatted his arm. “God, we’re gonna be so late.”

Isaac shrugged. “Probably.” He buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his pants while she reapplied her nude lipstick.

“Okay, I’m gonna head to the conference room,” she announced. “Wait a couple of minutes before you follow. I’ll cya in there--”

She was cut off by Isaac, who had reeled her in by her waist to give her a searing kiss, one that fogged her newly found bearings. He slipped in his tongue and curiously grazed her teeth, and just as she began to reciprocate, he abruptly pulled away.

“I’ll cya in there,” Isaac said, grinning at her dazed expression. She let out an offended scoff before she turned on her heel and exited the storage closet.

Isaac smiled to himself as he heard the clicking of her heels fade away. He tried to remember his life before she entered it. He found nothing in his memory except a lukewarm existence filled with meaningless affairs with women who only cared about his looks or his money, the endless monotony of work that didn’t interest him anymore, and a sinking loneliness.

Isaac remembered the first time he saw her. It was on her first day of work. He remembered hearing her laugh, soft and melodious, drifting through the cubicles. He saw her surrounded by the other associates, who stared at her with glitter in their eyes and hung onto her every word. Even Derek found her charming.

Her voice, her eloquence, her warm honey eyes, her aura. He found it all captivating. She was beautiful.

More than all of that, he loved her mind. She had joked that Derek liked her better, but he knew she was right. She was better in every sense of the word: smarter, funnier, wittier, and more ambitious. In point of fact, Isaac started caring more about his job after she showed up. It was her drive that sparked his, her passion that geared them into an unspoken competition of who could win more cases.

She changed his life without even knowing it, and somewhere along the way, Isaac started to fall for her.

But Theo got to her first. He approached her with his smarmy smile and slithered his way into her affections. Isaac watched their relationship unfold over the course of eight months. He watched her fawn over him like all the other women in the office, watched her eyes light up when he entered the room. He even walked in on them making out in the break room and lost his appetite for the rest of that dreadful day.

He watched Theo dump her in a heartbeat when he was offered higher pay and cushier benefits at a competing law firm in the city. He watched her fall apart.

By that point, Isaac had convinced himself that he could never have her and his feelings went stale. But as soon as he saw her heartbroken, he didn’t even hesitate to race to her side and give her his shoulder to cry on.

Isaac was there for her. He absorbed her pain and her sadness. He helped her find her drive again and worked on cases with her. The late nights and deep conversations turned into friendship. His feelings returned. He considered confessing, but everything changed the night of their drunken hook up.

She was the one who suggested they should forget that it happened, and then when things continued, she seemed satisfied with being just friends with benefits. It seemed like that was all she could want from him.

So, Isaac kept his feelings to himself and let her use him. It’s not like he didn’t do the same.

He knew she deserved better than casual hook-ups, but he couldn’t confess his feelings or set her free. He couldn’t get enough of her. He selfishly wanted her, in any capacity she would allow.

She had no idea how much power she held over him. He was completely in love with her and slowly being crushed by the weight of his own feelings, but for her, he could endure it.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Isaac adjusted his tie one final time and took a deep breath. He made sure to smooth down his hair as he walked into the conference room; she always had a thing for tugging on his curls and messing them up. Not that he minded.

“Lahey,” Derek announced as Isaac walked in. “Good of you to grace us with your presence.”

Isaac inwardly cursed. The meeting had already started. He took the empty seat besides Boyd and coughed out an apology to Derek. Isaac saw y/n smirking from across the room.

“As I was saying, this meeting concerns tonight’s Christmas party at my house,” Derek said. “Normally I wouldn’t call a meeting for this since I host one every year. But this time, I’ve decided to do things differently. Instead of Christmas sweaters and eggnog, I’ve decided that this year, it will be a formal, black tie event. I’ve also decided to invite the other firms from around the city as a show of goodwill.”

A round of groans ensued.

“But they’re all assholes!” Erica complained, then shrank back at Derek’s miffed expression. “I’m sorry, but they are. The Christmas party is supposed to be for us. It’s supposed to be fun. And they’ll ruin it.”

“I disagree,” Derek said. “I’m sure that if we try to make peace, so will they. I’m hoping to have a good year, one where competing firms won’t try to steal my associates out from under my nose.” Isaac scowled at Derek’s implication: he was talking about Theo. “Anyway, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. As I said, it’s a black tie event, so everyone should dress formally, and--”

Stiles hand shot up in the air.

Derek sighed. “Yes, Stiles?”

“Uh, sorry,” Stiles said, smiling guiltily. “By dress formally, just how fancy are we talking here?”

“It’s a black tie event,” Derek repeated, enunciating every syllable in annoyance. “Do I have to teach you how to dress now?”

“I mean, not now, but if you wanna come over later and help me get dressed...” Stiles grinned as Derek turned red and coughed away Stiles’s flirting. A chorus of faint giggles ensued. It was well known that Stiles had a crush on Derek and made it his mission to mess with their boss.

“Okay, that’s it everyone,” Derek said stiffly. “I’ll see everyone at my house at eight. Don’t be late.”

~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, y/n stared at herself in the mirror.

She had decided on the red, curve-hugging dress that Isaac had once pointed out in her closet. He’d asked her why she’d never worn it before and suggested she should. She had merely shrugged in response.

The truth was, she bought the dress thinking she could be brave enough to wear it one day, but every time she came close, she got scared and put it back. She thought it was too bold. She was scared of the attention the dress would draw in.

That was then. These days, she had no reservations about wearing form-fitting clothing. She didn’t fear attention. Isaac had played a large part in boosting her confidence: he always told her how much he loved her body. It wasn’t like he was the first man to ever call her sexy; Theo had done that plenty of times.

The difference was that Isaac didn’t make her feel like an object when he said it. He made her feel like she was something holy, a deity to be worshipped. The way he touched her sometimes, so careful and so tender, made her feel like she was the answer to his prayers.

But that was just wishful thinking on her part. They were just friends, after all.

Isaac was there for her when she was completely alone after her breakup and he never even let her thank him for it. He swooped in like the knight in shining armor she was taught not to believe in and rescued her from her own grief.

It was embarrassing really, how deeply entrenched he had become in her life. She thought about him all the time. She thought about him when she got dressed in the morning, about what outfits would make his head spin at work. She thought about him when she accepted pro-bono cases, especially those that concerned abusive parents and broken childhoods.

Before Theo approached her, it was Isaac who had filled her thoughts. His smile, his eyes, his laugh when she was lucky enough to hear it. It was Isaac she thought about in the shower while she touched herself, pretending it was him.

Even after she got together with Theo, every once in a while when they were intimate, she’d catch her thoughts drifting to Isaac’s sharp jawline and his pretty blue eyes and imagine that it was his large hands all over her body instead of her boyfriend.

She thought about Isaac tonight while getting ready for Derek’s party, spent a little extra time styling her hair into loose waves and obsessed over the precision of her makeup and wore something she knew he would like. Underneath her dress, she had on the lacy lingerie he brought her back from his trip to Paris, just in case.

She wanted to show Isaac that it was all for him. That she was finally over Theo. Isaac was the only one she wanted.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac arrived at the party promptly at 8 o’clock. He didn’t want to be late for Derek twice in one day.

He entered Derek’s sizable estate and immediately made a beeline for the open bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and exchanged pleasantries with the pretty bartender, passing time until y/n showed up.

Isaac adjusted his collar and scanned the room. Most of his co-workers were already present, but she was nowhere to be seen. Knowing her, she’d probably be a little late.

Isaac remained at the bar, not feeling compelled to interact with his coworkers. He didn’t have issues with them, and he wasn’t typically the anti-social loner who avoided the chattering crowd, but tonight was different. He felt restless.

It was at this time last year that everything changed between y/n and Isaac. The last time they had attended one of Derek’s Christmas parties, it was the first time they were ever intimate.

Even though a year had passed, the memory was still fresh in his mind. He even remembered what she had worn: a black skirt and a red sweater that had a reindeer on it, and a Santa hat. She looked downright adorable. He remembered that she smelled like vanilla and tasted like cinnamon and sugar when he kissed her.

Isaac winced after taking a particularly large sip of his drink. He was feeling sentimental tonight. It was nice to think about the past. Back then, things weren’t so complicated. He didn’t have to worry about whether having casual sex with someone he was in love with did more harm than good.

It was then that a man with a familiar style of perfectly coiffed hair had made his way over to the bar and was sitting about five feet away from Isaac.

“One whiskey sour, please,” he said.

Isaac could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Theo,” Isaac said flatly.

Theo smirked at the sight of his former associate.

“Lahey! It’s good to see you.” Theo extended his hand, a gesture Isaac pointedly ignored. His blood boiled at the sight of Theo standing there so casually, like he could just waltz into Derek’s house after turning his back on everyone there.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Derek invited me. Well, he invited my firm. I figured since it’s the holidays, I should probably come, maybe clear the air.”

“Clear the air?” Isaac repeated. “Oh, you mean after you left with no warning and took all your clients’ accounts with you? Yeah, you could probably make a few apologies.”

Theo raised his brow at Isaac’s defensive response.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t glad I left,” Theo said. “I basically did you a favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My ex girlfriend. I know you always had a thing for her.” Isaac’s stomach lurched at Theo mentioning her. As far as he was concerned, Theo lost all right to talk about her when he left her crushed and devastated.

“You know,” Theo continued, “I’m actually amazed she never figured out you had feelings for her. She was pretty naive though. And in her defense, I kept her occupied with other things.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Isaac seethed.

“Why, what’s wrong? After I left, you had her all to yourself. Don’t tell me you didn’t man up and make a move, especially since she was so broken after I dumped her. You had the perfect chance to swoop in.”

“I don’t really do the whole, preying on vulnerable women thing. That’s more your style.”

Theo scoffed. “Please. You make it sound like I tricked her into dating me. Everyone knows she was all over me. I actually kinda miss her being all over me. Who knows, maybe if I see her tonight, I might try to get back into her good graces, you feel me?”

Rage swelled in Isaac’s chest at the idea of her and Theo together again. All the pain of the past came rushing back in one all-consuming wave and he was pretty sure he heard his glass crack a little bit when he slammed it down on the counter.

“I swear,” Isaac muttered, “if you even look at her--”

“Theo?”

It was her. Too caught up in their verbal stand-off, Isaac and Theo didn’t notice she was standing behind them.

Theo didn’t miss a beat, flashing her his signature dazzling smile.

“It’s so good to see you,” Theo said. “Wow, you look amazing.” He approached her with open arms. To Isaac’s relief, she ignored his attempt at a hug. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here. But… you’re here,” she stated in disbelief. “Why are you here?”

Isaac tried to meet her eye, but she seemed transfixed by Theo. He silently watched them interact, ready to jump into action if Theo made a wrong move.

“I’d like to say I came for the party, but,” Theo paused, then plastered on the phoniest somber expression Isaac had ever seen. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”

Theo’s eyes flitted back to Isaac for a brief moment, catching his gaze and sending a silent message of victory.

“You were hoping to run into me?” she asked, flustered. “Why?”

“Because I miss you, baby,” Theo drawled. “Can we go somewhere to talk in private? There are some things I need to tell you.” Theo reached forward and caressed her arm, and Isaac had finally had enough.

“Don’t listen to him,” Isaac said, catching flickers of indecision in her eyes. “Come on,” he pleaded with nervous laughter.

“I...” she began hesitantly. Isaac’s heart sank when she answered, “I’ll go with you, Theo.”

Isaac was taken aback. Her words felt like a betrayal. “He’s not worth it. You don’t need to do this,” Isaac said, his self-assuredness tapering off.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry! I’ll be right back. Come on, Theo.”

Isaac watched Theo lead her into a nearby empty room. He downed the rest of his drink in one throat-scorching swig.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac checked his watch for the eighteenth time that night. Or maybe nineteenth. He’d lost count. He had been sitting at the bar for the past twenty minutes, waiting for her to return. Isaac hung his head at his own naivety, mentally berating himself for holding out hope for the impossible fantasy that she would reject Theo.

He was stupid to think she could ever want him the way he wanted her. She would always choose Theo over him.

A light tap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. He ignored it. He wasn’t much in the mood for dinner party chatter. The tapping on his shoulder persisted and Isaac turned around to confront the agitator. It was her.

“Hey,” she said.

He faltered in surprise, scanning her face for signs of distress, but she looked more relaxed than when she had left. Theo had worked his magic after all.

Isaac snorted. “Hey back.”

She frowned quizzically. “What’s up?” she prodded.

“Nothing. I’d ask how things went with Theo, but judging by the look on your face, I take it everything went well. But I get it. He’s pretty fucking dreamy, isn’t he? Makes you forget all about the past.”

Isaac’s words were an assault, denting her pleasant mood with accusations. He’d never spoken to her like this before, so scathing and condescending. Her eyes drifted to the glass of scotch in his hand.

She gently placed her hand over his and pried the drink away.

“I think you’ve had enough,” she said softly.

“Of you.”

She visibly flinched. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Isaac threw back the rest of his scotch, ignoring its stinging path down his throat.

She took a steadying breath and her lawyer instincts to kick in. She reminded herself to be calm and rational when dealing with distraught and combative clients. Or in Isaac’s case, indignant crybabies.

She dismissed the bartender when Isaac called her over for another drink. She tightly clasped his forearm, pulling him out of his seat.

“Let go,” he grunted. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to embarrass the both of us if you don’t stop struggling. We’re going upstairs.”

After a couple more attempts to shake her off, Isaac stopped resisting and let her lead him up Derek’s staircase, which was no easy task. He was a large man who was half-intoxicated, but he was sobering up with every step he took.

She led him into a random room and slammed the door behind them. He took in the lavish surroundings and photographs capturing Derek and what looked like his family. They were in their boss’s bedroom.

“You’re mad at me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Tell me why.”

Isaac scoffed, shuffling over to sit at the edge of Derek’s bed. He leaned on his elbows and rubbed his face. He was so tired of it all.

“It’s always gonna be Theo, isn’t it?” he said.

She faltered at the mention of her ex-boyfriend’s name and the undercurrent of defeat in Isaac’s voice. “What’s always gonna be Theo?” she asked.

“You’re always gonna go back to him. It’s you and Theo forever, the way it’s always been. The way it’ll always be.”

She scrunched her brows in confusion and crossed her arms defensively.

“Okay, seriously. What are you talking about? Nothing happened with me and Theo. We just talked.”

“For twenty minutes? I don’t think so. Don’t lie to me. I’m a lawyer.” Isaac chuckled emotionlessly.

“I’m not lying to you. I’ve never lied to you. Why are you acting like this? Do you seriously think I ditched you to go hook up with Theo in the middle of Derek’s Christmas party?”

“You did ditch me. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Meant nothing to me? God, Isaac,” she groaned frustratedly. “Do you really believe that?”

Isaac shrugged noncommittally.

“Isaac.”

Nothing.

She sighed. “Look at what I’m wearing, you idiot.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He scanned the length of her body. He realized that the color of her dress looked familiar, as well as the cut and length. He finally recognized it as the same dress he had asked her to wear a few months back. She had refused to put it on that day. She didn’t say it, but he knew she felt too insecure to wear it, which he thought was ridiculous. She could look beautiful wearing a trash bag.

He blatantly ogled her, taking in the way the delicate fabric draped over her body. She grinned at his reaction. The dress had achieved its intended effect.

“You’re staring, Lahey,” she pointed out.

“You’re wearing the dress,” he said dumbly.

“Good observation. I wore it for you, you know. I wanted to look good for you.”

“For me,” he repeated, awestruck. “But... what about Theo?”

“What about him? He just went on and on about how much he missed me and how letting me go was the biggest mistake in his life, blah blah blah. His little soliloquy was pretty entertaining, but he’s so full of shit. I can’t believe I ever let him touch me. He’s repulsive.” She grimaced.

Isaac felt the suffocating weight lift off his chest. He was finally able to breathe.

“What did you say to him?” he asked.

“I basically told him to go fuck himself a million different ways. It was great.”

“So, does that mean you’re over him?” Isaac asked timidly, still afraid to believe that Theo was a relic of her past.

“Yep. I’m into someone else now. You might know him. He’s tall, got curly hair, gets crazy jealous around my exes, likes to wear fake glasses...”

Isaac covered his face and laughed. She watched him fondly, relieved that he was back to his usual self.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just care about you so much, and the way Theo was talking about you, like he owned you. I just got so angry.”

“It’s fine, I get it. But it’s over between me and him, and that’s because of you. I wanted to tell you that tonight. You made everything better. I wouldn’t have been able to face Theo without your voice in my head, telling me that I was strong,” she confessed shyly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Isaac silently nodded, letting her words wash over him. “I’m glad you stood up for yourself. You deserve so much better than him.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing at his praise.

Isaac nodded. “So… did you really drag me up to Derek’s bedroom?”

She laughed. “I didn’t realize it until we were already inside. My bad.”

Isaac smiled and extended his hand, which she gladly accepted. He tugged and pulled her down to the bed. She sat beside him, their fingers still interlocked.

“I have to confess something,” she said quietly, piquing Isaac’s curiosity.

“What is it?”

She ducked her head, letting her hair curtain her face and shield her from Isaac’s questioning, attentive gaze. “Before Theo came into the picture, it was gonna be you. I think I knew even back then that it was always you.”

Isaac froze. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to contain the nervousness in his voice.

She looked up at him. “I think I always knew that the person I wanted to be with was you. I should’ve broken up with Theo a long time ago.”

“You... you wanted to be with me?”

She nodded. “Before Theo, I used to like you. Even when I was with him, you were still in the back of my mind. And I thought I would be okay with just hooking up and being your friend, but I want more. I was just scared to tell you because I was so traumatized from my past relationships. But I don’t feel scared when I’m with you. You make me feel so safe. I... I love you, Isaac.”

Isaac was floored. Here she was, telling him everything he ever wanted to hear, and he couldn’t believe it. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to express how much he wanted her. He didn’t know how to tell her she could do anything she wanted to him and he would let her. She could carve up his heart into a million jagged pieces and he would just thank her in return.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Isaac said, voice shaky with feeling. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, savoring the feeling of her soft lips. Her pretty mouth, her honey skin. He laid her backwards onto Derek’s bed. He undressed her to find that she was wearing the lingerie he brought her back from France.

They made love. Afterwards, Isaac zipped up her dress and she helped him with his tie. In the silence, they knew they didn’t need to speak. They couldn’t if they tried. There were no words that could contribute anything else to the moment. It was perfect.

They went back downstairs and rejoined the party, walking in holding hands. The stares of their coworkers were hard to ignore; subtlety wasn’t their thing. Derek gave his annual end of the year speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and wishing everyone health and happiness. Derek’s gaze drifted over to them mid-speech. He glanced at their joined hands and rolled his eyes fondly.

Across the room, Isaac caught Theo looking at them. He pulled y/n closer into his side and kissed her forehead, grinning in Theo’s direction.

One whole year of secret pining later, Isaac finally got what he wanted.

fin.

author’s note: this fic was initially posted on my old blog that got terminated. i wrote it for a mutual named addison. i modified it to take out her name and sadly had to leave it in 3rd person. otherwise i would’ve had to edit way too much. as a result, sadly there are a couple of y/n mentions in there lol.

this original fic also had a very different ending that was extremely graphic and sexual, and it made me v uncomfy, so i edited it out completely.

if this fic or any of my other writing makes it seem like i hate theo, it’s because i do. i feel like if isaac had ever met theo, they would’ve loathed each other. it’s fun imagining their dynamic.

anyway pls let me know what you think and interact with me bc i am sad ahaa <3

#isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey smut #daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman smut #daniel sharman #isaac lahey #sneaky link is my new fav expression lmfao #mermaidenisaacs

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jamespotterthefirst · 5 years ago

Text

Lunch Date (Ethan x MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,200 Warning: One curse word, sorry Premise: It is time to finally talk about the next steps after their kiss outside his apartment. Set after chapter 8 of book 2.

_________

With visible effort, she breaks away from his lips to quirk a shapely brow at him. “Is this your idea of 'talking'?”

Ethan is barely listening, his attention fully on her lush lips, tender and red from their kissing. All he wants to do is continue kissing her relentlessly until she makes the sounds that drive him crazy. The yearning is so intoxicating that he holds little regard for the fact that they are in his office and anyone can walk in any second.

He offers her a crooked smile as a response, its effect evident in her hooded eyes and parted lips. Pulled in by the spell of it, Ethan kisses her again, with the same recklessness that overtook him two nights ago, when he had kissed her outside his apartment building.

Lilac laughs against his lips. “Or your idea of lunch for that matter?”

He moves his mouth lower. “Are you complaining, Allende?” he whispers darkly against her throat.

“Not quite,” she returns breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed. “If this is what you had in mind, you could have just told me.”

He had intended for this to be an innocuous lunch when he texted her that morning. He had even gone as far as preparing and packing a meal they could both share.

But above all, Ethan wanted to finally have the talk he had promised her when he had kissed her.

All thoughts of civility abandoned him, however, as soon as her eyes met his during their meeting with June and Baz moments ago. She had given him one of those inviting smiles of hers, eyes alight with promise, and all he wanted to do was push her against a wall and kiss her, a wish he made a reality mere seconds after June and Baz were out the door.

Ethan presses one last kiss to the crest of her collarbone and forces himself to face her. “I did want to talk, actually.”

Lilac says nothing, her eyes studying his face, expression guarded.

He holds her in his arms, hands at her waist, his pulse racing. The words are at his throat but he hesitates. What if saying them is not enough to fix months of pining and torture? He wouldn't blame her in the least.

Sensing his hesitation, her expression softens, one of her hands moving to caress his cheek. Ethan closes his eyes briefly, chest hurting, the realization that he doesn’t deserve her vividly present in his mind.

When he opens his eyes, she is smiling encouragingly at him. “I want to be with you, Lilac,” he tells her at last, his voice even despite the turmoil taking place in him. “If you’ll still have me, I want to do this properly this time.”

A heavy silence follows the declaration. Though he expected as much, he feels a wave of panic in the pit of his stomach.

To his surprise, she laughs softly, shaking her head. “If I’ll still have you?” she repeats with disbelief. “For someone so intelligent, you can be so clueless sometimes.”

Ethan blinks, unsure of what to say. Her smile broadens, so winsome it takes his breath away.

Lilac leans forward to press a tender kiss on his cheek, sending his heart into a fluttering mess. “I want to do this properly, too,” she informs him quietly, eyes bright. “I want a real chance at a relationship with you. It's all I really wanted, Ethan.”

He is unable to help the grin that breaks across his face, broad and incredulous. His chest feeling weightless, Ethan kisses her. She returns the enthusiasm and he can feel her smile against his lips.

When they break apart, her smile dwindles a little as she asks, “How will this work, though?”

Ethan presses his forehead against hers. “We can figure it out together,” he promises. “Whatever you want, Lilac, it’s yours. If you want me to announce to everyone in the atrium right now, I will. Anything you want.”

Her laughter echoes around the office, the sound lovely and musical. “As much as I’d love to see that,” she says, “We can just keep this between us for the time being.”

Her hands move along the lines of his jaw, sending a shiver through him. “It'll help us give this relationship a fighting chance.”

His chest feels as though it could burst with rampant elation. Unable to find words appropriate enough, he simply nods.

Lilac kisses his cheek again with so much reverence that he wonders how he got so lucky.

Completely unaware of the three words plaguing his mind, almost at the tip of his tongue, she smirks at him. “Then, in a few weeks, I’ll post cryptic pictures of our joined hands on my social media with annoying hashtags that will keep people wondering.”

“Many of your followers will be disappointed.”

“Someone has to break it to them that I have a boyfriend,” she says matter-of-factly.

The word sends a powerful thrill through him.

Unable to resist the invisible pull that tethers him to her, he leans down to kiss her again.

This time, their mouths meet with urgency, lips crashing against one another. Lilac moans softly, her mouth opening for him with a willingness that sets his body aflame.

Dizzy and thoroughly entranced, Ethan guides her body to the nearest surface. Her legs obediently wrap around his waist, her arms clutching his body closer. Her teeth graze and tug at his bottom lip, eliciting a guttural groan from him.

“I love that sound,” she confesses in a sultry little whisper.

The words are enough to make his hips buck against hers. Lilac lets out a sound that he very much enjoys. He is unable to tease her about it, however, because a loud crash startles them both.

“Oh, shit,” she yelps when she realizes they had sent his coffee machine tumbling to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.”

Lilac moves to pick it up but Ethan holds her in place, her body pressed pleasantly against his.

“We might have broken it,” she says with a laugh.

“I don't care,” he whispers darkly against her lips.

“You're that serious about me that you don't care about your beloved coffee maker?”

Ethan joins her in laughter. “Glad I finally made that clear.”

They kiss until they're both breathless. At last, when their kiss is reduced to small, delicate pecks, Ethan sighs and steps back with much effort.

“I should heat up our lunch now if we want to have enough time to eat.”

She raises her eyebrows, intrigued. “What did you make me?”

“That honey pepper mac and cheese you sent me,” he says, picking up the pieces of his coffee maker. It was probably beyond repair but he didn't care.

“Really?”

Ethan chuckles at her excitement. “I figured you were serious about it when you texted me the recipe at two in the morning.”

Lilac kisses him one last time before hopping off the small desk. “Five minutes in and you're already proving to be a fantastic boyfriend.”

That word again.

Ethan grins, inwardly sighing at how juvenile it makes him feel. He pushes the feeling away at once, letting himself be unconditionally happy for the first time in a long time.

________

Author’s Note: RIP to the real hero here, that coffee maker.

Yeah, I don’t know what that was. I had a stroke of inspiration and I just started typing. Thank you so much for reading.

_______

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #My writing #playchoices #ethan ramsey fanfiction #Ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

Text

MATT CASEY

“I got you”

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: a bit angsty

Authors note: Shay is alive and Mills didn’t leave

"Morning Casey," You smile down on him. "Already working?" He's crouching on the ground in front of you, fixing up the equipment before putting them back into the shiny truck.

"This equipment won't be fixed by itself." He smiles. You always liked his smile, it made him even more handsome than he already was.

"What a humble lieutenant you are," You laugh. "If I was at your place I'd have the guys do it for me."

Matt Casey always had a thing for you. Nobody knew about it of course but he couldn't help his feelings nevertheless. He loved your personality, he thought you were really pretty and as time passed more and more things piled up.

But he never seemed to deepen your relationship and sometimes he wanted to slap himself.

Make a move Matt, he thought.

"Yeah I bet you would Y/LN," He sent a small wink your way and it made him happy to see the small blush that was tinting your cheeks.

"Well I better settle in before shift starts." The duffle bag thrown over your shoulder slips on cue reminding you that you, in fact came here to work.

***

Peter Mills sat beside you looking as comfortable as one could be.

You just lost a challenge in the kitchen and now you have to give Mills a good ol' kiss. Otis was the first one to bet that you wouldn't do it and so everyone started to put money on the table after that.

"Just so you know... I put fifty bucks in that kiss so you better not make me loose them," Mouch said from across the table. You knew they all put money on you kissing Mills just to guilt trip you into actually doing it.

Mills pasted a big smile on his face and made himself even more comfortable which truthfully made you less nervous about the whole thing.

It's just a harmless kiss. You thought before slowly leaning towards Peter. You could hear the crowd going wild at your actions but the commotion stopped the moment Casey's voice rang throughout the room.

"What's going on in here?" He knew exactly what was going on, he saw it all. But what better way to stop a girl he likes from kissing a guy that isn't him than to act dumb and stop it all from happening with an excuse.

You pull away at his cold tone and the crowd goes into a frenzy. "C'mon Lieutenant I just lost 50 bucks!" Mouch complained before dropping his head into his hands.

Everyone else complained and when they asked you to do it again they were shocked to hear Casey say no first. "I won't have you all play stupid games. Drop it and take your money back."

Was Matt Casey jealous or did someone secretly give you drugs so you were making it all up in your head?

"I'd say he's jealous," Mills whispered into your ear and pulled away, smiling mischievously. You wore a dumb look on your face and you couldn't stop the butterflies.

"Ambulance 61 a man in distress. East Lake 54 63."

You kicked Peter's chair and said "Shut up." before walking out towards the ambo with Shay.

"Oh Casey is so jealous!" She laughed once she sat in the driver's seat and started the ambulance car.

"No he isn't," You defended something you didn't even have to defend. "I mean he has no reason to be jealous, you know? We aren't even that close."

"Look I may swing the other way but even I know when a man is jealous."

You thought over your best friend's words carefully. Maybe Matt was feeling the same things you did. On that very ride you figured that you don't have to be super close to like or be attracted to someone just so you have an excuse to like him.

***

"He's in the room 478!" The receptionist came to inform you. She looked like she ran a marathon.

"There's no way we can take the gurney to the 8th floor," You noted while your hands rested on it. "Where's the elevator?"

She immediately started walking, "We just had it repaired a day ago. But...but it's working!"

Shay looked at you, "Hopefully."

You took the elevator to the 5th floor and found the man on the floor of his bathroom. He was covered in blood, it almost looked like someone attacked him.

"The woman who he brought in did this to him," The receptionist, who's name you learned to be Linda said. She was hyperventilating and both you and Shay told her to sit down and proposed to take a quick look at her. "I called the police... They're after her."

You were surprised at the violence he suffered but got him on the gurney nevertheless. "Let's get him in the elevator and we'll treat him in there."

Shay and you both loaded everything in the elevator, Linda came with you as well. She pressed the button and the elevator started with some wierd sounds.

"Is the elevator supposed to sound like that?" Shay asked carefully as you pressed different guases against the man's stomach and head. He was still unconscious and it made you worried.

Linda shook her head and dropped to the ground when the elevator suddenly stopped.

You were stuck.

***

Linda was having a panic attack at the floor of the elevator and Shay was helping her through it leaving you alone on your own while you treated his wounds. You already notified CFD and you were hoping to see some fimiliar faces soon.

Suddenly, a small part of the elevator above you opened and Matt's face popped in your line of vision. You breathed a sigh of relief and so did he.

To say he was terrified when he found out you were stuck in an unstable elevator at the 6th floor would be an understatement. He wanted you out in one piece and then he said to himself he'd ask you out on a drink - he made that deal with himself in the truck on the way to you.

"We need to get you out now." He said urgently.

"Linda first," Shay said and helped Linda out. Linda grabbed Matt's hand and he got her out in no time. You almost gaped at how strong that man actually is.

"We can get ropes and get him out in a sitting position." Matt proposed and you nodded.

"Shay you go next and wait for him to come out. Once he's out make sure he's lying down immediately." You instructed and helped Shay grab Matt's hand.

She was pulled out and the elevator suddenly moved. Your heart spiked up and Matt saw how terrified you were. "Hey Y/LN look at me. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

You tied the man up with different ropes Matt gave you. Then slowly, the man was raised up and safely out of the falling elevator.

"Now you," You never thought that your first time holding Matt's hand would be a near death experience.

You grabbed his hand and were pleasantly surprised at the sparks you felt. He gave you his handsome smile and effortlessly started raising you up and just at that moment the elevator snapped and dropped to its self destruction.

You screamed and thought Matt and you would fall down with it but instead you were flushed against his rope secured body. The position you two were in was somewhat intimate. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck instinctively and he had you secured safely in his arms.

Matt Casey couldn't help but kiss the top of your head several times. He just realized how nice your hair smelled. He realized that he could drown in your scent too.

"I got you Y/N." He wasn't just talking about the current situation. He really got your back whenever.

"Thank you Matt."

That was the first time you called him Matt and he couldn't believe how much he liked his name on your lips.

I'm definitely asking her out on a drink.

#matt casey x reader #matt casey imagine #Matt casey fanfiction #matt casey #chicago fire imagine #Chicago fire fanfiction #Chicago fire

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Coldflash “Punish Me” (Rated NC17)

Summary: The things that serve Barry should also serve Len, even if Len isn't his husband's sub. So when Barry comes home and finds Len kneeling in the dark, he's curious to find out why. (2953 words)

Notes: A part two to 'Waiting on his Knees' but also written in concert with this post I made about D/s, BDSM, and communication, specifically as it's portrayed in fanfiction, which can be toxic due to lack of research or ignorance.

Read on AO3.

Barry spends the afternoon clock watching, tallying minutes as they flip by, anticipating them down to the millisecond so he can catch the numbers turn. He doesn’t need a clock to know the time, but it’s habit. It gives him something to do in the moments between everything else. But it also reminds him how damned slowly time moves. So he does his best to ignore it, hoping he can get so wrapped up in work that he forgets about the time, then be pleasantly surprised when he checks it and finds that half the day has gone by.

But no luck.

At most, he wastes six minutes.

But Barry zooms off the second the numbers switch from 7:59 to 8:00. He’s dying to get home, dying to get to his husband, more so tonight than any other night. He made Len a promise that he’s been lousy at keeping. He intends to fix that.

He intends to spend all night fixing it.

But above that, Barry has a feeling. Not a foreboding feeling, per se. Nothing urgent. He’d know if his husband were hurt, if for no other reason than Len would text every single contact he has programmed in his phone who knows Barry to let them know he’s in danger.

Len is a brave, strong, capable man, but he has no qualms calling in reinforcements en masse.

Still, Barry can’t get it out of his head that something is wrong.

It takes him no time at all to make it home, managing to expertly avoid Caitlin and her stack of files that have the potential to bog him down for an hour at least. He pauses at his door and puts an ear to the wood.

Nothing.

He can’t detect any movement.

He becomes anxious as he listens for a clue, as if whatever is going on with Len has found a way to settle inside his chest, latch itself to his ribs and crowd his heart and lungs. But their apartment is silent.

Completely silent.

And with Len, as with children, silence is not a comforting sign.

The hairs on the back of Barry’s neck begin to rise.

He unlocks the door and walks inside.

Darkness greets him.

Cold, too.

Unnatural cold.

And quiet.

But it’s not an easy quiet, like the simple quiet of no one being home. It’s a tension-filled quiet. An anticipating quiet.

A quiet like the world holding its breath, waiting for Barry’s next move.

And he’s not alone.

It takes a moment of quelling his stuttering heart and his eyes adjusting for him to notice his husband there, in the center of the room, shirtless and on his knees. Barry breathes a sigh of relief, but not one Len would notice. He goes about his business, doesn’t stop to stare, even if Leonard Snart on his knees makes Barry hotter than asphalt in August.

When he requests it.

And since Barry hadn’t, he has to process this image correctly. He does so by adopting his Dominant persona. It helps him think logically, react rationally, without emotion applied.

“Hello, Len,” Barry says, putting down his bag and hanging up his coat.

“Master,” Len says, more experimentally than confidently, and Barry knows why. Len isn’t sure how Barry will respond. Because this isn’t their dynamic. Len isn’t Barry’s sub. But they’ve discussed this. The things that serve Barry can, and should, serve Len, too. Something about kneeling in the dark serves Len for the moment.

But Barry wants to know what he’s kneeling over.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I need you,” Len says, voice soft but dangerous - so unlike any sub Barry has ever met, it makes him bite his lower lip to keep from grinning. “I need you to do something for me, Sir.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Punish me.”

Barry stops fussing. The room becomes colder, darker than before. “Repeat that for me, please?”

“I need you to punish me,” Len repeats through gritted teeth.

“And why do you need this?”

“Because I’m evil,” Len growls.

“How do you figure?”

“I’m a thief. And a killer.”

“You are,” Barry agrees matter-of-factly. There’s no denying that those things are a part of Len’s personality. Part of Len’s past. It would be a slap in the face to his husband’s intelligence and the hard work he’s put into redeeming himself to sweep those under the rug. Confront them at every corner, whenever they pop up, Barry told him the first few months they were together, when flashbacks and urges piled up in his brain and Barry would find him warming his favorite stool at Saints and Sinners, trying to drink his anxiety away. That’s one of the reasons Barry introduced Len to the Dom/sub scene in the first place, in the hopes of keeping him away from the kinds of temptation that might land him in Iron Heights permanently, convicted of things even The Flash couldn’t swing getting him released from. Confront them, accept them, then put them in their place. “You were. But you’ve put those things behind you. And you’ve worked hard at it. So what’s happened in the past few hours to make you change your mind?”

Len raises an arm, holds something out to Barry - a folded-up clipping from a newspaper, it looks like. Barry takes it from him, fighting another smile. Most of the modern world gets their news from the Internet, but his husband still goes down to the corner store every morning for a daily paper.

Well, Barry is going to do everything in his power to ensure that The Central City Citizen never goes under.

Barry unfolds it carefully. The clip has jagged edges. His husband probably tore it from its page instead of using a pair of scissors. Barry marvels at how neatly he accomplished it. The outer portion is an ad for a local furniture store, but on the other side, the part folded in and therefore protected, is the article Len had saved. Barry reads the header out loud.

“Man fatally shot in alley way.”

Barry glances Len’s way when he notices movement at his feet. Len bows his head, hands folded on his knees like he’s praying, but Barry knows better.

He’s thinking.

Thinking hard for a man in this position.

“A man was found stabbed to death in an alley Tuesday evening, and police are investigating the killing as possibly gang-related …” Barry skims the article, searching for pertinent information. “The victim was identified as 33 -year-old Ricardo de Salva.”

Barry looks to his husband for answers. Len doesn’t see the expression on Barry’s face with his eyes cast to the floor, but he doesn’t need to. He can probably feel Barry’s eyes burning through the top of his head.

“He was a good guy,” Len starts softly, “and I don’t say that often about anybody. Family man. Didn’t wanna be a criminal. I strong-armed him into it.” Len’s voice cracks. The sound reminds Barry of an old growth oak weathering a storm, the way it complains as the wind does its best to knock it over, but can only get it to bend. “He needed a couple bucks, just wanted to take care of his wife and kids. He did one job with us. Not our normal payout, but enough to keep a roof over their heads for a few more months. And he was fine with it - ready to roll and never look back. But after that, we kept him on the payroll anyway, had him run petty errands. I gave him a beeper, told him to call whenever I paged him or else.” The catch in Len’s voice returns. He clears it gruffly this time. “We didn’t need him. It was amusing to have him around, acting as our gopher. When it stopped being amusing, I sort of forgot he existed. Always thought he made it out, but …”

Barry nods. He doesn’t ask Len to continue. He doesn’t need to hear any more. He folds the article up and hands it back to his husband, crouching an inch and holding it in his sight line until he reaches up and takes it.

“So you’re looking for penance? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” Len admits with a barely audible hiss, as if, of all the things he could ask his husband for, this is the farthest down on the list. “That’s what I want.”

“But I’m not your Dom.”

“No, you’re my husband!” Len snaps. “And you’ve Dominated me before!”

“That’s different! That dynamic is different! When we do that, we’re playing! It’s stress relief! And we have those parameters outlined! We know how far is too far!”

“But you could do it!”

“Yes, I could! But I’m not just going to break out a whip and some cuffs and beat you! There are steps we have to take! Discussions we need to have! Contracts we have to draw up!”

Len huffs under his breath and rises to his feet, the air around him dropping in temperature with every inch till he reaches his full height. “You’re not the only show in town, Red. There are clubs all over Central City, owned by guys who owe me favors. I’m sure there’ll be a Dom at one of them that will give me what I need.”

Barry swallows those words - spoken without any hint of warmth or compassion whatsoever - so hard his throat aches. He doesn’t know what to say. He never imagined it would come to this, not over this of all things! “We’re adults,” he says without condescension, though Len might see things otherwise, “in an adult relationship. If that’s how you feel, you’re within your rights. I won’t … I won’t judge you for that.”

Len bares his teeth in anger. “I don’t want them, Red! I want you!”

“You have me! But what you’re asking …” Barry extends his hands with palms upturned, pleading for his husband to listen to reason “… is not something I’m willing to do right this second! We need to talk about this more. A lot more!” He steps forward, puts his hands on his husband’s biceps and kneads gently. “I’m not saying no. Believe it or not, I understand why you might want to do this. I do. I’ve felt this way myself, that I’ve done so much more harm than good in my life that I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me. But it also seems to me like you’re doing this out of self pity.” Barry presses his forehead against Len’s, needing to be closer, needing more touch, and to look deeper in his husband’s eyes. “If I do this for you, it won’t bring Ricardo back. It won’t help his wife and kids. It won’t do anything but make you feel better, and I honestly don’t think it’ll do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Let’s make a plan,” Barry suggests. “Let’s write out a list of things that will actually solve the problem, not cover up how you feel. Because that won’t solve a thing. This pain and anger you feel, this hatred of yourself, will always be there, hiding underneath, waiting for its moment to throw a wrench in your sanity.”

Len sighs, drops slowly back to his knees. Reluctantly, Barry lets go so he can. “The problem is Ricardo’s dead. And if it hadn’t been for me, he might not be.”

“The key word there is might,” Barry points out, holding to it hard. “You can’t make someone else’s mind up for them.”

“You can if you threaten them enough. If you threaten their life or … someone they love. And you have to admit, I have a talent for getting people to agree to pretty much anything.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Barry mutters, squelching the part of himself that occasionally makes him doubt his life choices - particularly his choice in spouses. The part that second-guesses whether or not he did the right thing by trusting Leonard Snart, regardless of how many times he’s proven he can be trusted, that he is a changed man. That he loves Barry Allen more than his own life and would do anything to protect him. “I suggest we start by attending Ricardo’s funeral … talk to his widow … make some kind of amends.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Len sniffs. “I know she won’t. She’ll probably try to have me arrested.”

“Luckily you have a friend or two on the force who’ll vouch for you,” Barry teases. It doesn’t land as he’d intended. “You can write her a note. I’ll take it to her if you think that will make her more comfortable.”

“I do,” Len admits. “Though, to be honest, it seems like the coward’s way out. I should go up to her, let her slug me.”

Barry rolls his eyes. Len does have a point, but he also has a flair for the dramatic.

Len exhales. The breath leaving his body slumps his shoulders, makes him look surrendered. “If I do this … if I go … will you go with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Barry puts a hand on Len’s head. Len leans towards him, rests his forehead against Barry’s thigh and hides his face in the denim of his jeans. Barry runs his nails lightly over Len’s scalp. This is a side of his husband he rarely sees, a side he associates with Len’s memories of his father; the man’s terrible, soul-crushing abuse; of a teenage Len raising his sister - traumas that Len has never gotten adequate help with even though Barry has offered time and time again to help him find it. Barry hopes this will be the positive step in the right direction he’s been waiting for. “Of course, I will.”

***

Knock-knock-knock

“Yeah?” Len grunts in frustration. “What is it?”

Barry opens the bathroom door a sliver and peeks around the edge. He sizes up his husband standing in front of the mirror, navigating the mechanics of a Windsor knot the same way he would any other technical task - with pursed lips and a tightly furrowed brow.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” Len eyes his husband in the reflection and sighs. “Sorry I’m taking so long. This tie you bought me refuses to cooperate.”

“That’s all right.” Barry slides up behind him, pushing a wealth of off-colored jokes to the side. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“So you checkin’ up on me?” Len asks uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to his husband’s eyes, then back to his own reflection again. “Makin’ sure I’m not backing out?”

“No. I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a man of your word. Actually …” Barry chews the inside of his cheek, not so much contemplating, but gauging “… I wanted to give you something.”

Len smirks. “I’m not sure this is the right time for a quickie, Red. I mean, we’re headed to a funeral and all. Might be considered in poor taste.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Here.” He shoves a document into Len’s hands, then turns Len towards him, taking over with the tie so his husband can read. “I drew this up last night. It’s a full Dom/sub contract …” Barry’s voice softens “… with a few addendums. Addendums that are time sensitive. We have to discuss the finer details together, re-visit your soft and hard limits, that sort of thing.” Barry fastens the tie into a Trinity knot, just to show up his husband, then smooths the tail down his chest. “You’re doing what we discussed. You’ve made a plan … a good plan. But if this is what you feel you need, then read through this, sign on the bottom line, and I’ll give it to you.”

Len flips through the pages, eyebrows raised in surprise. Barry probably dashed this out in minutes, but Len wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. It’s incredibly thorough. “You’re willing to do this for me?”

“Yes, Len. I am.” Barry loops his arms around Len’s waist. “I love you. If you need this, then I would like to be what you need … if you’d let me.”

Len grins, draws his husband into his embrace and squeezes him tight. “You’re what I need, in more ways than one.” He buries his nose in his husband’s neck, breathes in deep the spicy scent of his cologne. “But …” He moves back a step but doesn’t leave his husband’s arms. He looks Barry in the eyes, holding him the way he does whenever he’s about to impart something important “… I’ve been doing some thinking and … I want to talk to someone. A---a shrink. Like you suggested. But not someone here. In another city. I don’t want to go to someone who knows me. Knows who I was. Could you help me find someone?”

“Absolutely,” Barry agrees with a smile that refuses to stop. He hugs Len again, with so much enthusiasm, a wave of electricity seeps through Barry’s skin and shocks his husband. Only a little. “I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” Len says, mildly embarrassed. Barry can hear the eye roll in his words. “For everything. For being willing to help me.”

“Hey. That’s what superhero husbands are for, right? I guess we won’t need this then …” Barry reaches for the contract but Len pulls it out of Barry’s reach. Barry watches Len roll the stapled pages together tightly, then slide it into his back pocket. A wicked grin quirks his lips as he leans into Barry’s ear and whispers:

“I’m not saying no.”

#coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #captain cold #the flash

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loveforpreserumsteve · 5 years ago

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Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Sixteen:

Sniffling, Steve wiped at the tears streaming down his face. He was already on his third tissue, and he made a mental note to buy Sam and Nat another box. Being the naturally more sentimental man that he was, he probably should've predicted this. Especially with him deciding to indulge his nephews by watching a Pixar film.

But hell, how was he supposed to know that Onward would tug at his heartstrings more than Up?

Earlier, when the three boys had fallen asleep in the fort, Steve had been divided. They were the ones that wanted to watch the movie, after all. Maybe Steve should've stopped it to finish it another time. Perhaps with his own brothers.

Now though, Steve was glad that he had finished the movie. Did it make him sob like a baby? Yes, yes it did. Did he regret it? Not one bit. In fact, Steve was already itching to buy the film.

As the end credits rolled on the screen, Steve heard the garage door. With perfect timing, his best friends entered the house. Causing Vinnie to perk up, but thankfully, not start barking. Of course, that didn't stop his tail from wagging as he heard the familiar voices entering through the kitchen.

Shutting the TV off, Steve greeted, "How was your date?"

"Good," Natasha grinned, leaning against the frame as she looked over the sleeping boys in the blanket fort. "I take it, you all had a good night."

"Duh," Steve stretched, enjoying the pops that erupted down his spine.

"See," Sam started, stepping up behind Natasha. Setting his hands on her hips and resting his chin on her shoulder, Sam smirked, "This is what I love about when you babysit. Not only do you wash the dishes, but you manage to bore the kids to sleep too."

Playfully rolling her eyes, Natasha elbowed her fiancé and walked around the fort to sit on the couch beside Steve. Folding her legs beneath her, she turned towards Steve, making him know that she was not going to be distracted. Sam must've realized that too because as he sat on the sofa, he reached for the remote.

"Spill it, Rogers," Nat quietly demanded.

Steve chose to avoid her eyes and picked at imaginary lint, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, ya do," Sam scoffed, "You have a crush. We wanna know how to help you and Prince Charming to live happily ever after."

"I would've used, 'Help you get laid,'" Natasha shrugged, "But you get the gist."

Already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, "Sam already knows."

"What?!" Natasha squawked while Sam mused, "I do?"

Nodding, Steve confirmed, "The owner of What's the Batter With You."

"No shit?!" Sam leaned forward in his seat, revealing a large grin splitting his face.

"Who's the owner of --"

"Bucky Barnes," Steve sheepishly answered.

Gleefully, Sam giggled from his seat while Steve bashfully tried to shrink into his. Natasha, however, sat quietly. Which was made Steve blush more than Sam's giddiness. Hiding his face in his hands while his blush stretched to his ears.

Steve's blush grew even more as Natasha teased, "You think he tastes as sweet as his cupcakes?"

"I'm never talking to you again," Steve muttered behind his large hands. When his phone vibrated, Steve was still complaining, "I'm going to change my name and flee the state."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam sarcastically agreed.

"Been there, done that," Nat waved his comment off.

Opening his phone, Steve found a simple message from Eddie: Can you pick me up on your way home???

Sure, Steve replied, easily ready to leave, if only to save him from childish teasing. Even if it was done in the name of love. Leaving now.

Getting the address from Eddie, Steve stood from the couch. Stretching again, Steve informed his friends, "Gotta pick up Eddie."

"Lame," Natasha smirked, standing up to give Steve a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Rubbing her thumb over his pale skin, smoothing down the beard, she instructed, "Drive safe."

"I always do," Steve playfully rolled his eyes like a moody teenager. Perhaps, he was spending too much time with his kid brother.

Sam grabbed him and pulled him into a hug then. Not nearly as tight as Nat's, but still ending with a kiss to the cheek. Sam being Sam, also insisted, "Text me when you get home."

"Don't worry," Steve reassured, giving him a squeeze before looking over the snoozing kids in the fort.

Making sure he had Vinnie's leash, he led the tired dog out to his car. Locking the gate on his way, Steve crossed the sidewalk to his hand-me-down Lexus and opened the back door to let Vinnie inside first. Like the good boy that he always was, he laid down and closed his eyes. Clearly tuckered out from spending his Saturday night with three well-meaning, rowdy boys.

Setting his GPS to the address, Steve took off towards the house. Thankfully, it didn't last too long. It was a pleasantly short drive, and Steve pulled up along the curb outside a gorgeous Tudor house.

Cracking the back windows, Steve cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Walking up the tulip lined path, Steve was caught up in daydreams when he heard a deep voice call out, "Steve?"

Pausing right there on the walk, Steve turned to find none other than the man he was currently infatuated with. The blush quickly covering his cheeks, he greeted, "Hi, Buck." Internally cringing at how casual he was, he amended, "Bucky."

"You here for a kid too?" Bucky asked, flashing a gorgeous smile Steve's way.

"Uh, yeah," Steve confirmed. Suddenly remembering that he was wearing a flannel in front of the very man who admitted that he had a thing for guys in flannels, Steve rigidly turned back to face the house.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring, Vinnie," Bucky mused as he caught up to Steve on their walk to the front porch.

"Oh, uh," Steve nervously chuckled as he gestured towards his car, "He's sleeping."

Bucky looked over at the car, almost as though he was hoping to spot the dog. When he didn't, he redirected his attention forward and teased, "If I had known, I would've brought a pupcake."

"If we eat any more of your cake, we're going to need to run more than once a day," Steve commented.

Mind catching up to his mouth, Steve realized what he said and how it could've been perceived as an innuendo. The back of his neck felt hot, and when he noticed how Bucky's eyes scanned his frame, his ears felt as though they could cartoonishly blow steam.

"I don't know about that," Bucky mused, feigning thought as he playfully assured, "You look to be in good shape to me."

Butterflies tried to escape Steve's stomach when Bucky winked. So, nonchalantly that Steve wondered if he had actually done it, or if it was just wishful thinking. When they reached the door, Steve decided not to ask and stood to the side while Bucky rang the doorbell.

The large door opened to reveal a curvy girl with springy red curls. Giving the men a smile in acknowledgement, she turned to call back into the house, "Tibby, Buck's here!"

"How's it goin' Daisy?" Bucky conversationally asked.

Daisy? Steve couldn't help but internally muse as he assessed Eddie's crush. Admittedly, she was adorable. A sparkle in her eyes that reminded him of Julie, and a softness to her smile that instantly conjured images of Natasha. Although he didn't know much about this girl other than what Eddie had gushed about, he decided that he liked her.

While Daisy told Bucky, "Not too hot. Should've accepted the job at the cake shop when you offered it."

"Tutoring not going well?" Steve curiously questioned. Daisy's brows furrowed, and Steve realized that she had no clue who he was and probably thought that he was some creeper. So, Steve introduced himself, "I'm Steve, Eddie's brother."

"Oh," Daisy's eyes lit up and she pressed her lips together as she turned to look over her shoulder.

As thick as thieves, Tibby and Eddie exited the house. Tibby giving Daisy a hug while Eddie gave a stilted wave, a blush high on his freckled cheeks. After Daisy closed the door and the four started back down the walk, Steve noted how the teens shared a knowing glance.

Suspiciously, Steve narrowed his eyes as he asked, "You two have fun?"

"Yeah," they answered in unison, which only caused Steve's skepticism to grow.

Chancing a glance at Bucky, Steve was relieved to find that he wasn't the only one sensing something off here. Bucky gave him another wink before wrapping his arm around Tibby's shoulders. Reeling her in as he questioned, "You didn't want to stay the night? Don't you usually stay?"

"Oh, uh," Tibby floundered for a moment before she stage whispered, "Aunt Flow came to town, if ya know what I mean."

Steve watched the war on Bucky's face. He wasn't positive, but Steve thought that Bucky was doubting this excuse. It was also obvious that Bucky wasn't going to call his sister out in front of a stranger, and was therefore the perfect excuse.

Instead sighing before dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Waving at Steve and Eddie as him and Tibby crossed the street. Sending a farewell of, "Stop by the shop anytime."

"Trying to fatten me up?" Steve surprised, even himself, with how easy the tease came to him.

Bucky threw his head back as he laughed, "A man can try!"

Biting back his grin, Steve climbed into his car and waved as the brunets drove by. Watching the car in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb, Steve narrowed his eyes at Eddie, "Planned?"

"I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about," Eddie scoffed, but the wide grin was answer enough.

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lilys-little-library-blog · 6 years ago

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You’re Holy To Me (Michael Langdon X Witch!Reader) {SMUT}

Fandom: American Horror Story: Apocalypse Pairing: Michael Langdon X Witch!Reader Word Count: 2,885 Warning: This fic contains EXPLICIT sexual content! Please do not read if that bothers you. Author's Note: This fic is inspired a little bit by @lanawintrs’s amazing http://lanawintrs.tumblr.com/post/179974721180/she-walks-over-me!! This is my first time writing for Michael so I hope I kept him in character :^)

Michael Langdon was...beyond powerful. From the moment you saw him, even before Cordelia informed you that he was the Antichrist, you knew there was something special about him.

And now he was at Robichaux, with you and the other witches, and you had to act like he wasn't the most gorgeous man you had ever seen because Zoe didn't trust him and made you promise to stay away from him.

Almost every witch had a crush on Michael, and how could they not? With his blonde, curly hair and those deep, blue eyes…

You were smitten.

It was making it hard to focus on your studies. Michael was in all of your classes, so instead of listening to the lecture Zoe was giving, you were trying to stop staring at Michael.

Zoe must have noticed that you weren't paying attention.

“Miss __l/n__, please tell me what the last three challenges of the Seven Wonders are.”

“Transmutation, Vitalum Vitalis, and Descensum.” You answered easily, sticking your tongue out at her even though you knew it was inappropriate. If Zoe was going to call you out, she could've actually challenged you.

Zoe rolled her eyes at you before continuing on with the lesson. You were too busy chuckling to yourself to notice the curious glance Michael shot in your direction.

-----

“You infuriate me.” Zoe announced, flinging the door to your shared room open with a flick of her fingers.

“I love you.” You replied and blew a kiss in her direction.

“Can you stop making goo goo eyes at Langdon for one class? Just one class, that's all I ask.”

You tried to fight the blush from rising on your cheeks, but you were positive you failed if the chuckle from Zoe was any indication.

“You do know he's the Antichrist, right?” She reminded, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I don't think that automatically makes him a bad person. I think he wants to be good. He came to Robichaux, didn't he?”

“He did.” She agreed. “But I still don't trust him. Just be careful, alright?”

“Of course.”

-----

You were surprised when you exited the bathroom after taking a shower and saw that Zoe wasn't in the room. You thought she'd be getting ready by now.

Shrugging, you towel dried your hair as you rifled through your closet.

You and Zoe were planning on going out tonight, and you were trying to figure out what to wear.

“Why do you witches own so much black?”

You shrieked and turned to see that Michael Langdon was sitting on your bed.

“Michael?” You drew your towel tighter around your body. “What are you doing here? How'd you get in?”

“I came to talk to you. I knocked, but you didn't answer and the door was unlocked so I let myself in.” Michael looked you up and down, a smirk on his lips. “I hope that was alright.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that's fine. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Michael frowned. “Why would you do that?”

You sucked in a breath. Surely Michael wasn't implying what you thought he was. You hardly knew each other. “What did you say you were here to talk about?”

“I didn't. Yet.” Michael smiled at you. “I came to talk about you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What about me?”

“I like you. You're...fiery. And you seem to be one of the few witches here who isn't afraid of me.”

“I'm not afraid of you because I know I can handle you.”

Michael appeared in front of you suddenly, and one of his hands gently caressed your cheek. “Is that so?” He leaned in close, so that his lips were just inches from your own. “Prove it.”

You let your towel fall to the ground before teleporting yourself and Michael to your bed. You watched as Michael flung his arm out and locked the door. He murmured something, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you just cast a silencing spell?”

Michael chuckled. “Yes. I don't want anyone interrupting us.”

You pulled him down into a kiss. Michael was aggressive, which you had been expecting, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lips while his hands trailed down you body.

You gasped as he slid a finger into you.

“You're so wet already.” He teased and used his other hand to pinch your nipple.

“Michael,” You whined, tangling your fingers in his hair and kissing his neck. Michael groaned, and the sound was like music to your ears. You wanted him to make that sound again and again. You slid his pants off his legs with magic, making Michael chuckle.

“Somebody's eager.”

You rolled your eyes instead of responding and wrapped your hand around his cock. You were pleasantly surprised at the amount of precum you found on the tip of his dick.

You opened your mouth to comment, but Michael, seeming to sense what you were going to say, shoved two fingers in your mouth before you could. You didn't complain, sucking his fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tips.

“You're insufferable.” You breathed out teasingly when he withdrew his fingers.

“As are you.” Michael responded easily. There was no malice in your words or his. You sucked in a breath when you noticed how pretty he looked with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and tangled hair.

“You're beautiful.” You said without thinking. Michael surprised you by surging forward to kiss you deeply.

You kissed him back eagerly, using the hand that was on his dick to guide him towards your entrance.

Michael stilled your hand, and you whined. He chuckled as he grabbed a condom from your nightstand.

“Can't forget this.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Of course.”

Michael looked at you in amusement and awe. “You didn't forget about the condoms. You just didn't want me to use one, did you?”

The look on your face must have said it all because you watched as Michael's eyes darkened.

“That's hot.” Michael murmured and tossed the unopened condom onto the floor. Michael's lips found yours again as he guided himself to your entrance. He teased his dick up and down your slit.

You tried to wiggle your hips to encourage him to get inside, but Michael reached an arm across your hips and pinned them down.

“Michael,” You hissed impatiently. “C'mon.”

“Beg.” Michael purred.

“What? Why?”

“To prove that I'm more powerful and you can't handle me.”

“Okay first off, that wouldn't prove that you're more powerful. Second, even if you were more powerful than me, you have the unfair advantage of being the fucking Antichrist. And third, I never said I was more powerful than you. I did say I could handle you, and that's true.”

“Can you?”

Your eyes flashed, and before Michael could react, you had flipped him over so that you were straddling him. His hands were pinned above his head with magic, and when he tried to move them, you could tell that he was surprised he couldn't break the spell.

You leaned down to capture Michael's lips in a kiss as you lined your entrance up with his cock. You sunk down an inch before pulling off, then repeating the process.

Michael growled as you continued to tease him. “__y/n__,” Michael warned as he struggled against his bonds.

“Yes, Michael?” You placed kisses all over his chest and neck. “Something wrong?”

You blinked as Michael snarled and tore himself out of your restraints.

He flipped you over again, and his hand wasted no time finding your throat. Michael squeezed once before pressing down roughly, and you bucked your hips up as you felt yourself getting wetter.

Michael's nostrils flared. “I can smell you dripping all over your thighs. You must like my hand around your neck.” You nodded with red cheeks, and Michael clucked. “So filthy.”

You whined at his words, and Michael leaned down to kiss you as he lined himself up with your entrance. Michael must've been out of patience since he didn't even try to get you to beg, he just slid in.

You groaned simultaneously, and Michael eased up on the pressure he was putting on your throat.

“You're such a brat.” He announced, pulling out of you completely before shoving his cock back in.

“Why?” You asked, voice scratchy. “Because I wouldn't beg? Or because I'm just as strong as you?”

Michael pressed down on your throat again. “Watch it.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” You taunted.

Michael pulled out of you completely and climbed off the bed in one fluid motion. “I could leave you all alone while you're wet and horny.”

You chuckled and shoved two fingers inside of yourself, using your other hand to cup your breast. “Good thing I don't need you to get myself off, then.”

Michael just stood there for a moment, watching you, his cock so red and so hard it looked painful.

“Mhm,” You moaned as you began rubbing your clit. “Michael,”

Michael's eyes snapped to your face when you said his name. Your eyes were locked on him, challenging him.

Michael growled and climbed back onto the bed. His hands pushed your thighs apart as you removed your fingers from your pussy.

“I hate you.” He hissed as his cock slipped inside you.

“I don't believe you.” You managed to get out in between thrusts. Michael's cock felt so good inside you, you wanted to cry.

Michael's lips caught yours in a dirty, rough kiss. You moaned, and Michael slid his tongue into your mouth. His tongue flicked against yours teasingly.

Michael fucked into you deeply, rolling his hips as he slid a hand between you to rub your clit.

“You're doing so good taking my cock.” Michael murmured, and you keened at the praise.

“And you have such a nice cock, baby.”

Michael seemed a little surprised at the pet name, but the look in your eye showed him that you were enjoying yourself too much to be fully aware of what you were saying.

It wasn't like he minded, anyway.

Michael moved his hand from your neck to your cheek before leaning down and kissing you again. He slowed his thrusts down, and suddenly it felt a lot less like a competition between the two of you and a lot more like something else. It felt almost...spiritual.

And that was not a word Michael used often.

Michael blinked as he felt something wet drip down your cheek. Michael's gaze drifted up to your eyes, and he was surprised to find that you were crying.

“What's wrong?” Michael asked softly, brushing away the tears as they fell.

You brought a hand to your cheek, and your eyes widened when you saw that it was damp.

“I didn't even realize.” You chuckled quietly. “You just feel so fucking good. And you fuck me so perfectly.” You admitted, only a little bit embarrassed.

Michael smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before thrusting in sharply once more.

You moaned loudly, and Michael built up a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts that had you both grunting.

Michael picked up the pace as his orgasm approached.

“Michael, fuck, I'm gonna cum.” You panted as Michael rubbed your clit at a furious pace.

“Not yet.”

You whined petulantly and decided to scrape your nails down Michael's back and nibble on his earlobe before claiming his lips in a deep kiss.

“You can cum...now.” Michael gasped out as his orgasm began.

You sobbed in relief as Michael's fingers tipped you over the edge, and your walls clenched around Michael's cock.

Michael spilled into you, which only prolonged your orgasm because the moans Michael released as he did so were downright sinful.

Michael didn't pull out until he was sure you were done cumming. You whined anyway, already mourning the loss of his body being connected to yours so intimately.

Michael chuckled and moved towards the edge of the bed. You caught his wrist, and Michael raised an eyebrow at you.

“Do you have to go yet?” You asked shyly, and Michael’s eyes softened.

“No. I can stay.” Michael leaned down and brushed a kiss to your lips, and you released his wrist. Michael climbed off the bed and slid his underwear back on. He grabbed your underwear too, but instead of handing them to you, he parted your legs and crawled in between them.

“What are yo-oh.” Your breath caught in your throat as Michael began licking his cum out from inside you.

Michael reached a hand up to massage your breast as his tongue plunged deep into your pussy. Michael began rubbing your clit in time with the thrusts of his tongue, and it only took a few more minutes before you were cumming again all over his tongue. Michael kept licking and sucking until your thighs were shaking and you were too sensitive for him to keep going.

“You taste delicious.” Michael complimented, sliding your underwear back on before wiping his face with the back of his hand.

You just gaped at him for a moment before pulling him up your body and kissing him roughly.

“You are so fucking hot.” You whispered in disbelief as you broke apart and began carding your fingers gently through Michael's hair.

Michael arched into the touch immediately, and as you continued to stroke and pet his hair, Michael's breathing slowed down and he fell asleep.

You smiled to yourself before yawning. You had been going at it for a while, and a nap sounded nice. You curled into his side and allowed yourself to drift off to sleep too.

-----

When you woke up, you were surprised to find Michael staring at you, a tender expression on his face.

“Hi.” You spoke quietly, afraid that if you talked too loudly, you would ruin whatever was happening between you and Michael.

“You're so beautiful.” Michael murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Especially when you're asleep. Or when you cum.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

Michael kissed you sweetly before he climbed off the bed and began to get dressed. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table and cursed.

Zoe was gonna kill you; she wanted to leave almost an hour ago.

You ran to your closet and threw on the first dress you found, which happened to be short, black, and tight.

“Can you zip me?” You asked Michael, and he nodded, pushing your hair out of the way as you turned around before pulling the zipper up. Michael pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before letting your hair fall back down.

You slipped on a pair of thigh high black boots right before Zoe slowly pushed the door to your room open.

“Oh good, you're awake and decent this time.”

You winced. “You came in earlier?”

“Duh, I had to get dressed. I was not expecting to find you and Langdon cuddling in bed.”

“Michael.” Michael corrected, looking only a little sheepish about the situation she had found you in. “Please, call me Michael.”

Zoe smiled at him before turning her gaze to you. She whacked you gently on the shoulder with her hand. “Do you still want to go out?”

You nodded. “Of course I do, Zoe.”

Zoe switched her gaze back to Michael. “Would you like to join us?”

Michael shook his head. “Not this time. I think you two have a lot to talk about.” Michael pulled you into a kiss as Zoe walked into her closet, letting his hands wander down to your ass and squeezing gently before releasing. “But I'll see you both again soon.”

Before either of you could say anything else, he had disappeared from the room.

“So are you like, dating the Antichrist now?” Zoe asked in amusement as she began tying her shoes.

“To be honest with you, I really don't know.”

But you hoped so. Being with Michael was intoxicating and magnetic, and you didn't think you'd be able to find someone else that made you feel how Michael had.

That thought was scary, and too deep for you to focus on yet, so you pushed it to the back of your mind as you and Zoe stepped out the front door.

You were completely oblivious to Michael watching you from the window with a smile on his face.

“Don't worry, darling. I won't be going anywhere.” Michael murmured softly to himself. During his time with you, Michael had become enamoured.

You helped him forget about being the Antichrist and his father and all the other dark thoughts he kept hidden. You challenged him and excited him in ways no one ever had before.

Michael truly did want to be good, and sticking by your side seemed like the best way to do it. He knew you'd keep him in check.

Sensing someone's eyes on you, you turned and were pleasantly surprised to see Michael in the window. You smiled and blew him a kiss. You were even more pleasantly surprised when Michael played along, catching the kiss and putting it in his pocket.

Being with Michael, fucking Michael, dating Michael...was definitely something you thought could get used to.

End. <3

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thecreativeangel · 7 years ago

Text

Gym Class Losers (Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader)

Eddie Kaspbrak x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: P.E. sucks, no questions asked, but when you get hurt during a game of soccer there is at least one cute boy who cares enough to help you. So yeah, P.E. still sucks ass, but maybe it’s not as bad as you initially thought.

Warnings: Guys… if you think this fanfic isn’t gonna have swearing you don’t know me well. This also includes minor mention of blood. Otherwise vERY FLUFFY.

Word Count: 1,459

Ah gym class, art thou the most fucked of classes. You think, wiping your sweaty palms on your gym shorts. You weren’t a loser or a huge nerd (although you got straight A’s), nor were you part of the Populars. You were just (Name), and P.E. wasn’t your thing. Sure, you didn’t fail like some kids, but the jocks made it impossible to even try at being good.

“Pass to me!”

“I’m open!”

Yeah right. You’re on the other side of the gym, trying to elbow a kid away from the goal. You’re about as “open” as a Mrs. Kaspbrak’s asshole. You shudder at the mental image of your new next door neighbor. The point was, even when the teams were an even ratio of athletic to non athletic, the jocks still managed to create a monopoly between themselves, almost entirely ignoring you and the less sporty people. You saw an uncomfortable looking brunette with sort of pudgy cheeks, who was on the other team, struggle to get out of the way as two girls, both known to be soccer players, almost trampled him to death fighting for the ball. You resisted the urge to snicker at his extremely awkward stature.

“So, um, maybe you could actually pass to me?” You ask one of the boys on your team, layering your sarcasm and frustration on thick. You have to walk alongside him as he moves down the “playing area”. If the P.E. teacher saw that you weren’t doing shit, he’d lower your grade, and that wasn’t an option.

“Will you be able to pass the ball?” Your teammate asks, distracted as he dribbles it down the gym, his eyes focused on the ground. You don’t get a chance to answer before another girl yells at him to keep moving and he runs away. The boy probably didn’t mean to be rude; he was just too into the game.

You harshly blow a strand of hair out of your face, feeling the gym teacher’s eyes on the back of your head. Jogging to where the most active players were, you almost begged to get the ball passed to you at least once until finally one of the nicer boys kicked it over. You stopped it with a foot and began to run towards the other team’s goal, enjoying the feeling of just maybe scoring a goal for once.

The cute brown haired boy showed up in the corner of your vision, giving you a nervous thumbs up. You turned back to the goal and stuck your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, biting down to keep concentrated on scoring and not the boy. Apparently you were too concentrated on the ball because seconds later someone came barreling into you and kicked the ball from under your feet, knocking you over sideways. Your face hit the floor, thankfully at an angle that your nose wasn’t broken, but you licked your top teeth and tasted sickeningly metallic ooze. You made a face as your tongue ran over a particularly sore spot, causing a sharp pain to erupt. That was P.E. for you; face planted, knees skinned, body sore, ego deflated.

No whistle was blown, the coach didn’t even look your way, the kid who hit you shouted a “sorry” over their shoulder and kept running. The only person who seemed to care was-

“A-are you okay? D’you need a bandaid? Or some gauze? Wait, no-”

You momentarily forget the aching pain and chuckle, scrambling up to see the person who cared to worry. You knew that voice. From the hallway and from class, you knew the voice of the brunette boy who always wore a fanny pack.

“I’m fine,” You assure him, again having to wipe your sweaty palms because he was cute and you were nervous.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “I can go get my-um… “

You observe him look away, suddenly embarrassed. “Your fanny pack?” You finish for him, remembering him in class, the weird thing always around his waist.

“Yeah…” He mumbles, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Hey Kaspbrain, come over here and play for once!” A ginger haired jock from his team yells.

“H-hey, don’t yell at me! If anything you should apologize! I saw you push (Name)!”

The ginger kid jogs over, towering over you and the brunette boy. “I said I was sorry.” He says flatly, crossing his arms. You eye him up and down, knowing that if this jock asked to “meet you both outside” to “work things out”, you’d quite possibly be dead by tomorrow. For some reason, the usually quiet brunette’s anger only seemed to flare.

“You aren’t sorry! I saw you laugh after you pushed her! God, how can you be s-”

You tugged on the sleeve of his shirt roughly and shook your head, pulling him away from the ginger jock.

“It’s not gonna end well.” You mutter from the corner of your mouth, taking a hallway pass from the P.E. coaches makeshift desk. The coach didn’t even ask why you were going, or if you were going to bleed out on the way. Looking behind, you were pleasantly surprised to find that the cute boy had followed you.

“I’m supposed to walk you down,” He explains.

“It’s fine, really,” You insist, but deep down you were incredibly happy that he stayed to walk you. It’s fine if you talk to me for the rest of the day-I won’t complain. “I’ll just stop by the nurse, maybe even get an excuse to go home.”

“Actually-” He stops walking and turns to the rows of lockers, stepping closer to number 290 and fumbling with the dial. “I have some stuff in my locker. School nurses are sort of useless…”

The brunette nearly slams his locker open and rummages through his backpack, pulling out what must have been at least fifty bucks worth of medical supplies. He turns back to you with arms full of bandages and a sheepish smile on his face.

“This should be enough.”

You sat on the cold tile floor of the teachers bathroom, watching the cute boy wet a cotton ball under the sink.

“So…d’you just…always have all this shit with you, just in case?”

He crouches down at your height and scrunched his nose, most adorably, you must admit. “My stuff is not ‘shit’!”

You snort, earning another small glare from him. “Yeah, okay…”

He tilts your chin up and begins to wipe away little dribbles of blood. You hope your face isn’t as red as you think it is, but it honestly shocks you how gentle he was, like hurting you would hurt him too.

“But really though,” You say as he pulls the now bloodied cotton ball away from your lip. “Why are you being so nice? And what’s your name? I know we have the same lunch and history class, that’s all.”

He sits down next to you, his back on the bathroom wall and laughs lightly. “You probably don’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

“W-well... On your first day of school you were obviously new and the bell was about to ring-but when you saw Victor Criss hit the binders out of my hands…” He stopped to take a deep breath, exhaling as if saying all this was a huge weight off his chest. “You still helped me pick them up, e-even though you’d be late for class…”

You lean your head against the wall, the scene flashing through your mind. You’d helped him because he looked just as lost as you, even though it wasn’t his first day at the school.

“And my name’s Eddie, by the way.”

You whip your head around to Eddie and he grins back. “So this is like debt? We’re even now?”

“No!” He exclaims, a bit too loudly. “I mean yes? Wait, no, it’s definitely not like debt. I just wanted to…”

Eddie mumbles something under his breath, avoiding your gaze.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

He mumbles it again, a tiny bit louder this time.

You try to suppress the smile that was forming on your face. “I seriously can’t hear you.”

Eddie looks more flustered than ever, his cute cheeks dusted with pink. “Wh-yes you do!”

“One more time? Please?” You beg, giving him puppy eyes.

“I want to hang out with you, okay?” He nearly shouts, throwing his hands up for dramatic effect.

The smile on your face transforms into a bright beam. You looked down at the ground to hide your impossibly wide smile. With your cheeks and nose painted a brilliant sunset red, you manage to answer him in the softest, most adorable whisper he had ever heard.

“I want to hang out with you too…”

Authors Note: I know I need to finish “The Town of Forgetting” series, but here, have this instead ‘cuz fuck it I’m a huge procrastinator. @exoticeggos

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abbygkane · 8 years ago

Text

I serve at the pleasure of the president

Summary: Eyeing his wife, Marcus can’t believe that she’s proposing to give him a blowjob in the Oval Office and that he’s actually considering taking her up on her proposition.Before he can even form a reply, Abby has already rolled his abandoned chair backwards, and with a saucy wink she gets on her knees and shuffles until she’s under the desk and hidden from view. She was actually going to do this

AKA White House AU one-shot with Marcus as the President of the United States and Abby as the First Lady

Listen, I can hear you guys thinking, uhm Lore don't you have several prompts + two multi-chapter fics you still need to finish? Maybe BUT this is all the sin-bin's fault, especially @catalan1 and @shefollowedfires , yes you two, don't give me that look. And honestly, the conversation was too good to go to waste so I simply had to write this story. Also this is NSFW, just so you guys know

President Kane nods distractedly at his secretary, Miss Cartwig, before walking into the Oval Office. As President of the United States, not a single day passed without even a small obstacle or interference, but today had been especially tiring.

Taking a seat behind his desk, Marcus takes note of the amount of paperwork that’s still laying on top of it and he swears that for every report he reads two new ones appear, before glancing at the clock hanging on the wall.

How can it be only 2 o’clock in the afternoon?

With a groan, Marcus leans back in his chair and runs his hand through his hair, grimacing when it gets stuck in the gel the hairdresser had used earlier while preparing him for his television interview. He’d been invited to go on FOX and Friends, and like his previous appearances on the network, it had taken every ounce of his self-control and restraint not to snap at the three hosts and give them his unfiltered opinion, which included some words that definitely weren’t acceptable on daytime television. Thankfully, due to his experience as a prosecutor and later as a senator, he had managed to stay civil throughout the interview. Furthermore, he had seen his personal aide, Nathan Miller only wince twice from his position behind the lights, which definitely was an improvement from his past visits.

If there was one thing Marcus hadn’t missed after winning the election three years ago, it was going on all these interviews. But since they were in the midst of his re-election campaign, he didn’t really have a choice, much to his chagrin. The fact that his opponent from the Republican party, Cage Wallace was trying his utmost best to aggravate him on a daily basis didn’t make this campaign any easier. Looking back, his first campaign against Charles Pike had been plain sailing if you compare it with this one. Because Pike for all his faults had been a decent and a straightforward politician with some good ideas, whereas Wallace, the son of a real-estate millionaire, definitely wasn’t. That Wallace had even managed to get this far in the election is still something that baffles and frustrates Marcus. Much to his wife’s amusement, especially when he came home after a long day and started one of his lengthy rants about the idiocy that escaped that man’s mouth.

Closing his eyes, Marcus rests his hands clasped on his chest, deciding to take a short break before his daily security briefing. He almost nodded off when two arms slip around his shoulders and a soft kiss is pressed against his cheek.

“Well hello there Mr. President,” Abby whispers softly in his ear, her breath caressing his skin.

“Hmm,” he reaches out and puts his hands on top of hers, “Hello, Mrs. Kane,” he replies, a small smile appearing on his face at the way Abby nuzzles his neck.

“I saw a recap of your interview on Fox and Friends,” she smirks before sitting on the corner of the desk.

“Did you now?”

Abby merely hums before letting her fingers run across the length of his tie, straighten it.

“I was pleasantly surprised by how composed you were and by the way you managed to answer those questions in a dignified manner, even though I know how much you dislike them. Watching you be all presidential is quite sexy,” she murmurs with a mischievous look.

“It is?” Marcus raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping to her mouth when Abby bites down on her lower lip before pulling him closer thanks to the grip she has on his tie.

“Oh, yes. Very sexy,” Abby whispers, their faces only inches apart and he knows that they shouldn’t, not when he has a security debriefing in ten and they’re in the Oval Office, surrounded by his security detail, but with his hectic schedule there hadn’t been much spare time for him to spend with his wife and he had missed her.

“Well then,” he starts while rising from his seat so he can slip between her legs, his hands coming to rest on her waist, pulling her closer, “I’m glad that at least one of us enjoyed the interview,” he continues before bending his head and brushing his lips against her, feeling a degree of self-satisfaction when Abby immediately opens her mouth with a small moan, prompting him to deepen the kiss.

The kiss turns heated very quickly, especially when Abby opens her legs even further until their groins are pressed each other. Marcus has to bite back a particularly loud moan when she starts to grind herself against the pronounced evidence of his arousal.

“Abby”

Breaking the kiss, Marcus presses heated kisses alongside Abby’s throat, groaning against her skin when she tilts her head back with a soft sigh. At the sensation of her hands gliding into his hair and pulling his head closer, he nips at her skin in retaliation. The breathless gasp that escapes her lips in response makes him involuntary buck against her. Just as Abby drags his lips back against hers, the phone on his desk rings and they both freeze.

“Ignore it,” Abby whispers after a heartbeat before letting her lips brush against his jaw.

“You have no idea how badly I wish I could darling,” he utters, letting his forehead rest against hers.

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” she teases back with a roll of her hips, a smirk playing on her lips at his barely contained groan.

“Be nice,” Marcus warns her before reluctantly removing one of his hands from its position on her ass in order to take the call.

Abby gives him her most innocent of smiles, “I’m always nice,” as she leans back on the desk, giving him more room.

Throwing his wife a disbelieving look, Marcus picks up the phone, “Yes, Miss Cartwig?”

“General Sinclair is here for you daily security briefing Mr. President,” his secretary calmly informs him.

He’s just about to answer her when Abby unexpectedly cups him through his pants, causing him to let a soft moan of pleasure.

“Mr. President are you alright?,” Miss. Cartwig asks, her voice sounding worried and insistent.

Closing his eyes to regain even a shred of control, he reaches out and stills Abby’s hand, before giving her a warning look, “I’m quite alright Miss. Cartwig. You may send the General in in about five minutes,” he manages to get out, hoping that his secretary wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. President,” comes the quick reply before the call is disconnected.

Marcus puts the phone back on the receiver, “I thought I asked you to be nice?”

“It sure sounded like you enjoyed it,” Abby giggles while linking her hands behind his neck, so she can draw him nearer.

“Hmm. Well, as much as I’d like to continue this, General Sinclair is waiting on the other side of the door and I’m sure I look divelished thanks to you.”

With a grin Abby lets her eyes wander over her husband’s body, taking in his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair and especially the large bulge in his pants.

“I think you look absolutely ravishing!”

Marcus can’t help but chuckle at the sincerity in her voice, “I appreciate that, but I doubt that the General will agree with you, so you’re going to have to get off from my desk.”

At this rebuke, Abby pouts but she listens and gracefully slides off the desk, “You’re such a spoilsport,” she playfully complains while running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it less fuckable. Which in her husband’s case is quite the task because she always wants to jump him.

Watching how Marcus fixes his tie, a wicked idea starts to form in Abby’s mind, “How are you going to sort out your not so little problem?” She asks while nodding towards his pants with a grin.

“I’ll just remain seated for the entire meeting. The desk should cover it.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I have a much more pleasurable solution?” Abby murmurs sweetly.

“Really? And what solution would that be?” He inquires with a frown, his eyes briefly resting on the clock before shifting back to his wife.

When Abby merely licks her lips in response, Marcus’ eyes widen at the realisation of just what she’s implying.

“Abby you – you can’t be serious?” He stammers, feeling flustered but also excited.

“Why not? You said it yourself, the desk will cover you.”

“Yes, but-”

“Besides, I know how detailed Sinclair can get and this will make the meeting a bit more bearable,” she explains matter-of-factly.

Eyeing his wife and in particular the playful smile on her lips, Marcus can’t believe that she’s proposing to give him a blowjob in the Oval Office and that he’s actually considering her proposition.

Before he can even form a reply, Abby has already rolled his abandoned chair backwards, and with a saucy wink, she gets on her knees and shuffles until she’s under the desk and hidden from view.

She was actually going to do this

The realisation causes a thrill of arousal and anticipation to shoot through his body, mixed with a sense of trepidation because they’re surrounded by his security, his staff is just on the other side, not to mention the fact that he honestly doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep quiet. He never can. And of course, there’s the fear of getting caught and the possibility of it leaking to the press.

“Well, aren’t you going to sit down?” Abby inquiries with her lips curled up in a half-grin, “Time’s running out”

“Abby, I don’t think-”

“Oh, don’t worry Mr. President. You’re going to enjoy this. Trust me.”

Just as Marcus opens his mouth to reply, the door of his office opens and General Sinclair enters with a friendly smile.

“Good afternoon Mr. President”

“General,” Marcus gives the other man a nod before quickly taking a seat, rolling his chair until he feels Abby pressed between his legs.

Ignoring the General’s confused look at the change in tradition, since they usually have their briefings on the couches which are in front of the desk, Marcus clears his throat and gestures the other man to take a seat.

“Any new developments I should be aware of?” He asks, only to hit his knee against the desk when Abby swiftly takes care of the zipper and slips her fingers into his pants and underwear.

“Everything alright Mr. President?”

“Yes, my leg simply fell asleep.”

The General gives a nod, not looking entirely convinced, but understanding that it’s not his place to comment on it, he hands the President a copy of his report and starts the briefing.

As Sinclair starts his account of this report, Marcus flips through the pages of his copy, trying his utmost best to pay attention, but all of his focus is on the feel of Abby’s eager hands on his cock as she strokes him, making him stiffen even further in her grasp.

He barely manages to bite back a groan when Abby wraps a hand around the base of his erection before letting it slide along his entire length, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Lacing his hands together, Marcus tries to keep his facial expression neutral, only for his eyes to widen when suddenly her tongue’s licking the head, eagerly lapping up the drops of pre-cum that’s already gathered at the tip.

“Are you sure you're okay Mr. President? You seem a bit flustered.”

Marcus drags his gaze from the report towards the General, who’s looking at him with concern clear in his eyes.

“I’m fine, just-”, he chokes when Abby unexpectedly takes him into her mouth, lips wrapped around the tip before giving it a gentle suck, “still a bit worked up about the Fox and Friends interview”, he manages to stammer, nearly losing his remaining self-control when he feels Abby smiling around him at the mention of being worked up. He's also thankful for whoever’s listening when the General merely gives him a sympathetic nod before continuing with the briefing.

“Godda-,” Marcus gasps, nearly jumping out of his chair when Abby runs her nails across his thighs.

“Did you say something, Mr. President?”

“No. Please, do continue General.”

Sinclair gives him an odd look, but he dutifully picks up where he left off with the report.

Marcus really tries to listen to the other man’s words, truly. But even with his gaze on the General, he doesn’t process any of the words that are leaving the man’s mouth. All he can think of is the feel of Abby’s warm mouth surrounding him or the sensation of her tongue licking his cock.

At one particular suck, he has to bite his tongue to refrain from moaning her name and Marcus realises that this meeting has to come to end, immediately. Before he makes a complete fool of himself.

Clearing his throat, he waits until Sinclair lifts his gaze from the report, “General, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll have to cut this briefing short. I have an important conference call in a few minutes and my presence is mandatory,” Marcus informs him, his voice strained as Abby starts to bob her head at a more rapid pace. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

If the General’s surprised by the abrupt ending of the meeting, he doesn’t show it, for which Marcus is entirely grateful. The man simply gathers his things and with a curt nod rises from his seat before walking towards the door.

The second that the General has left his office, Marcus calls in his secretary, “When is my next meeting?”

“In a half hour Mr. President. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I do not want to be disturbed until then. That’ll be all,” he snaps, his tone harsher than he intended, and he feels slightly guilty at the rattled look on Miss. Cartwig’s face before she promptly leaves the office, but Abby just took his entire length in her mouth and it’s taking all his strength not to cry out. So he makes a mental to apologise to Miss. Cartwig later, perhaps buy her some flowers. Of course only if his wife doesn’t kill him first.

At the sound of the door closing, he rolls his chair slightly back until he can look down at Abby and slides both of his hands into her hair, gripping it tightly and away from her face so he can watch how his cock slides in and out of her mouth.

The sight of his cock disappearing between those luscious lips makes his skin feel like it’s on fire and he tilts his hips slightly so he can thrust into her mouth, his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head with pleasure when Abby hums her appreciation at the feel of his hands guiding her head.

“Fuck Abby”

She continues to suck him, letting his cock slide further into her mouth until she swallows, causing her throat to tighten around him.

“Oh,” Marcus exclaims, hands still tangled in her hair.

With one hand, she fondles his balls, while the other one’s wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly pumping him to his release.

“Look at me Abby,” he whispers and he nearly comes at the sight of her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.

She’s enjoying this. She loves making him lose control.

“Darling,” he pleads, almost sobbing from relief when she takes pity on him and speeds up her movements, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his.

He can feel his orgasm building, thrusting shallowly into her mouth Marcus manages to hold out for a couple of seconds, but after one particular hard suck, he can’t hold back any longer and with a breathy exclamation of her name his body tenses and his orgasm crashes over him. His cock is throbbing with the force of his release, but Abby happily swallows every single drop.

With a final lick, Abby lets his softened cock drop from her mouth before gently tucking him back into his pants and rising from her crouched position beneath the desk.

“Come here,” Marcus murmurs, reaching out for her and Abby gladly climbs into his lap, licking her lips as she does so.

Hands palming her ass, he tilts his head so he can capture her lips in a kiss, moaning when he tastes the saltiness of his cum on her lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her lips.

“I bet you say that all the women who give you blowjobs in the Oval Office,” she teases while running her hands through his hair.

Marcus flashes her a half-grin, “Well since you’re the only woman, you’re absolutely correct.”

“You’re such a charmer,” Abby quips back, “but I’m expecting that you’ll return the favour later?”

“Or I could return it now?” He proposes, hands slipping between their bodies and pressing against her groin, a smile appearing on his face when Abby lets out a breathy exclamation of his name.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m meeting Clarke and Octavia in a couple of minutes. We’re going shopping for prom dresses.”

“That’s a pity,” he replies, “But, I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yes, you will.”

Abby gives him a final peck before gracefully rising from his lap, “Enjoy your meeting dear”, she adds with a wink before leaving him.

With a satisfied smile, Marcus leans back in his chair.

He couldn’t wait until he got her in bed tonight.

#slackru #kabby #marcus kane #abby griffin #kabbysource #kabbyfam #kabby ff #kabby fanfiction #the 100 #skyparents #lore writes

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notgonnarememberthis · 8 years ago

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Beautiful- Chapter One

We stall these updates of The Lying Angel to bring you yet another multichapter fic! Mislav messaged me with a request and I really hope I did it justice! I’m really sorry it took me so long but I had to finish up some school stuff. I hope you guys enjoy

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

May 22, 1999

Sherlock’s not sure how long he’s been here staring at the amber liquid in front of him watching the bubbles break the surface. That’s a lie of course. He’s been sitting here for approximately an hour thirty-seven minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Only approximately because in the time it took to think that three more seconds had passed.

His father had taken him from his university interrupting a rather invigorating session where the professor threatened to throw him out of class for interrupting their teachings… again. Wasn’t his fault the bumbling moron didn’t know chemistry from biology. You’d think to teach forensics they’d need someone who was actually trained. In the time it’d taken the woman to give a lecture he’d already read the entirety of the textbook. To his dissatisfaction, yet again, it was a class where it wasn’t anything he didn’t know. He’d taken quite a fascination with forensics and police investigations. Which lead to a rather angry professor when he constantly fact checked her in the middle of class.

Beside the point he supposes. Father had dragged him to America on business. Now he was in the ever so glorious New York, New York which surprise surprise turned out to be yet another mindless tourist trap masking the pests that littered subways, restaurants, motels, et cetera.

“Rum and coke.” A voice clips through his thoughts dragging his head to his right side. The bar was pretty packed and the seats were all filled except for the one beside him, well it was at least. To his left was a not so pleasant smelling older gentleman ranting and raving about some American game on the television but he had the decency to keep his back turned to Sherlock. This new guest, however, appeared to be alone.

The woman appeared to be of asian descent around his age. Her hair was tied up messily, tendrils falling from the hasty ponytail. His eyes flash down to her fingers cataloguing every detail of her. May as well put his skills to test while he’s waiting on his father. “You’re a student?” He asks.

The woman startles, dark eyes flashing over to him. “Yeah how’d you know?”

“Paper cuts on your hands. Typical of a student studying for finals plus you’re here alone on a Saturday night. Not exactly common for people our age.”

“Our age?”

“No younger than twenty two yet no older than twenty five.” He guesses.

“Twenty four.” She smirks eyes sparking in the dim light of the bar. She’s wearing a minimal amount of makeup, just bare enough that he can spy her freckles beneath. By all means and conventions, she’s incredibly attractive. “Needed a break from studying.” She shrugs with a small smile teasing at her lips. He partly wonders what he could say to get her to smile fully. Just another of those moments he supposes. “My roommate isn’t exactly helpful. What about you? Transfer?”

“Not exactly.” He shrugs sipping at his drink. “My father has business in America.” He frowns in distaste at the whole scenario once again. “If you could consider it to be business.” She throws him a questioning look causing him to shrug. “Since my mother died he’s gotten involved in suspicious deals. I pretend not to notice but-”

“You noticed I was a student from the paper cuts on my hands.” The woman scoffs.

“Precisely.” He tips the rest of the drink back allowing the liquid to burn down his throat. “What does it matter if you can just block all of it out?” He gestures to the now empty glass. “Kind of hard to feel anything when you’re numb inside.” He chuckles. The woman’s lips twist into a frown as she tips back her own drink as soon as it’s set in front of her.

“Let me show you something. A little trick I have.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow curiously.

“I don’t even know your name.” He laughs bitterly.

“Joan.” She reveals with a small grin. She gestures to the bartender and the man brings over two bottles of whiskey. “Buddy of mine. Owes me for saving his ass from some vindictive chick set on ruining his life.” She shrugs.

“My name’s Sean.” He lies. He’s not even sure why he does.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She leans against the bar, the look in her eyes suggestive. He throws a look to his phone eyeing the screen for some interruption. He expects to be imagining this somehow. He eyes the alcohol wondering if he’d lost track of how many drinks he’d had. Statistically improbable… Suddenly Joan flushes, eyes flashing to the ground. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I’ll take care of your check.” She shuffles through her wallet, a deep red blush crawling up her pale neck.

He’s not sure what possesses him but he places his hand on top of hers. “Let’s go.” Her eyes stare at him wide, shocked. He smirks whipping out his wallet and paying for both of their drinks as well as the bottles before she can react. She gapes at the gesture stuttering to find the words. “I believe he deserves more than a little pay for the crowd he’s putting up with right now, favor or not.” He smirks. He leads them outside with her hot on his heels.

She seems to get her confidence back as soon as they step outside. She grabs his hand twisting him around to face her before pressing her lips to his. She’s soft everywhere that he’s hard. Her lips are smooth beneath his, fingers locked in a fist around his shirt. His hands settle on her hips pushing them backwards until she presses back against the brick wall of the bar. Her teeth nip at his bottom lip drawing a groan from his lips.

She pulls back first, a devilish smirk on her mouth as she slips from beneath his arms which had settled on either side of her head. She whistles signaling a cab to stop by and pick them up. She slides in the back seat gracefully, pale legs beckoning him to climb in after her. She murmurs an address to the driver before leaning back to him once more. Smooth, lean fingers loop in his tracing patterns into the back of his hand with her thumb. He categorizes the callouses on her fingertips contrasting against the otherwise soft skin. He closes his eyes listing off the reasons they would exist to distract himself from her white teeth nibbling on her swollen lips.

The cab screeches to a stop surprisingly quickly. He throws a look to Joan who’s already climbing out of the car. “Thanks.” She says tossing placing cash in the driver’s upturned hand. Sherlock stumbles out after her following her into the apartment. “My roommate is out of town visiting family.” She notes the weird look over her shoulder. He can tell by the tensing of posture as she climbs the stairs. “Her brother was in an accident and is in the hospital.” Her voice is rough with emotion. So she knew the brother… “God I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She laughs bitterly.

It’s his turn to grip her hand now as she moves towards a door. A quick flash of keys confirms his suspicion that this is, indeed, her room. He presses her against the door kissing her quickly to ignore the tears building in her eyes. A complete stranger is confiding in him and here he is pinning her to the door. She doesn’t seem to complain though as she wraps her arms around his neck, the cool bottoms of both bottles pressing against his spine through his t-shirt. She pushes him back suddenly to turn and fidget with the lock. He takes the opportunity to push her long ponytail to the side peppering her neck in kisses. Freckles dust the back of her neck like constellations teasing him to piece them together with his tongue. The door finally gives sending them both stumbling inside.

He catches her quickly taking both bottles from her slim fingers and placing them on a nearby table before pushing her back against the door. His lips attach to her neck as his fingers slide up her spine and into her hair. Gently he tugs on the hair tie freeing her ebony locks. Long hair falls gracefully over sharp cheekbones framing her face beautifully. She grabs the front of his tee dragging him back up to her lips once more.

He slides his hand up the back of her leg teasing the edges of her skirt. A long moan draws from her lips as his fingers trace the edges of her panties. He wonders for a second what other noises he could pull from those lips. Again she’s the one to break contact, pushing him through the home. She tugs his shirt off discarding it somewhere in the hallway. Her fingers tug at his belt as she pushes him into a bedroom. His knees hit the edge of the bed as he notes how neat the place is.

Joan slides a slim leg over his lap straddling him. A manicured hand settles on his chest before pushing his back onto the bed. “Stop thinking.” She growls before pressing her lips to his again. His fingers slide up the back of her thighs drawing a whine from her throat only for it to muffle against his lips. Their shoes clatter on the floor loudly as they kick them off together. Deft fingers undo his belt attempting to push them down without interrupting contact. He lifts his hips to help her, ending up in his hard on to press against her center. A gasp leaves her throat at the unexpected contact, hips bucking into his.

His fingers slide up her abdomen slipping up her button up with them. Her muscles contract at his touch, rippling pleasantly. Her fingers lace in his hair pushing his head against her chest. He smirks kissing her breasts through the slim material of her shirt. Her hips grind against his as he continues his descent lower still. Her entire body shivers as his lips make contact with her skin. Her fingers grip his chin forcing his eyes up to hers. His fingers still on her hips as he’s floored by the look on her face.

“God you’re beautiful.” She breathes.

“Not me, you.” He protests.

“You say you’re numb…” She drones off, long nails stroking down the hair on his chest. Her eyes fall to his tattoos, biting her bottom lip. “I beg to differ.” She chuckles. His eyes fall to his pants as buzzing echoes in the empty room.

“I’m sorry. That’s father.” His chin sets as he moves to get up from underneath her. She’s quicker though snagging the phone from the pockets of his discarded jeans. She turns the thing off throwing it aside with a frown. “Life sucks. So what?” He flinches at the sudden change in attitude. She marches over to a drawer digging through the contents. When she finds what she’s been looking for she saunters back over to him, eyes dark as they roam over his form. “Here…” She emphasizes straddling his lap and pressing the condom she’d found onto his chest. “Now… we forget.” She commands rolling her hips against his.

“Joan…” He moans tipping his head back.

“Just for tonight. We don’t think.” Those sinful nails are back again, more rough this time as she scratches down his back. She guides his fingers up her thighs until they stroke her through her underwear. She’s unbelievably wet, he notes as he pushes them aside. He slides a finger inside her catching her off guard. Her hips buck against his hand as a gasp leaves swollen lips. “No thinking.” She purrs, lips dragging up his shoulder and the side of his throat.

“No thinking.” He agrees inserting another finger inside of her. Her own fingers push his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out freely. She wraps her hand around him stroking him. She finds the condom tearing open the wrapping before her hand is on him again, sliding the damned thing onto him. His head tips back allowing her to take advantage of the newly exposed skin.

He removes his fingers from inside her and in a daring moment he licks them clean. Something dark flashes in her eyes as she grips his chin pressing her lips to his harshly. Shuffling between them she somehow manages to rid of her skirt and panties as well as his boxers. She takes him in her free hand lining him up. She pulls away from him watching him intently as she sinks onto him. A smirk slips onto her lips as she begins rocking against them. It doesn’t take her long before they’re bucking against each other quickly.

Her fingers tug his from their bruising grip on her hips sliding up the front of her blouse. He looks up at her pleadingly almost asking for permission. She nods slightly and he rips the thing down the middle, buttons scattering across the otherwise silent room. His mouth attacks the tops of her breasts allowing him to hit a new spot inside of her. Her walls ripple around his cock drawing another moan from his lips. He snaps open her bra easily discarding both items of clothing. His lips attach to her newly exposed nipples.

“Good boy.” She purrs combing her fingers through his hair. He runs his tongue around the hardened peak before sucking it between his lips once more. “Spank me.” She growls. He can’t help but obey, the smack resonating through the empty room. She moans tossing her head back and he can’t help himself from spanking her once more. He wants to know all the noises he can coax from her lips, reddened from their rough kissing. “Pull my hair.” The strands of her long locks tangle between his fingers. A long whine leaves her throat as he tugs her head back. He takes advantage of her exposed skin sucking on the silky spot at the edge of her jaw. He knows it’ll leave a mark but he doesn’t give a damn.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” He pleads against her skin.

“Touch me.” His free hand slides between them flicking at her clit. Her hips stutter as she’s suddenly slammed with her orgasm. She doesn’t stop rocking though. “Sean…” She groans raking her nails down his back roughly. He hisses through the pain and like a switch flicking he follows her close behind. He sobs her name into her skin at his release, arms wrapped around her as if she’ll disappear if he lets go.

The aftershocks are long subsided when she finally rolls to the side and off of him. “Wow.” He mutters staring at the ceiling. She takes the condom off of him and ties it up before tossing it into a wastebasket not far from her bedside. She hops up snagging his t-shirt onto her body before rushing off to the living room. She comes back in seconds both bottles in hand.

“It’s going to be a long night.” She smirks passing him one. She tips her own back taking a long swig of the contents. He does the same enjoying the fire of the whiskey as it burns down to his stomach.

They alternate between orgasms and drinks of whiskey. They don’t collapse until the sun is beginning to rise. Her long ebony hair drapes over her chest as she breathes evenly. She’s drunk a whole lot more of her bottle than him, her’s half full and his three quarters. He knows he needs to get up. She likely won’t remember this in the morning with how much she drank. Yet he feels his eyes getting heavily, lulled by the steady thrumming of her heart against his chest. He lets his eyes fall shut with a sigh as she burrows closer to him.

Just a few minutes...

#joanlock #joan x sherlock #joan watson #Sherlock Holmes #au #one night stand #elementary #elementary cbs #elementary AU #flashback

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totallymotorbikes · 8 years ago

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Battle of the Low-Buck Nakeds So far, we’ve had a hit-or-miss relationship when it comes to Chinese-built motorcycles. We were pleasantly surprised by the mini Ducati Monst…errr… SSR Razkull 125 when we rode it alone and amongst its peers in our 125cc Ankle Biters Shootout. The little playbike seemed to be put together moderately well and delivered impressive performance in the class, all for less than two-grand. For a price that low, we excused much of its shortcomings, especially compared to the almighty, but costly at $3,200, Honda Grom. With hopes high, we turned our attention to one of SSR’s full-size offerings, the Buccaneer Cafe. A good-looking and stylish motorcycle, we were eager to ride the Cafe-inspired machine. Alas, the excitement stopped soon after the air-cooled 250cc V-Twin sprang to life, as its woefully anemic 17 rear-wheel horses struggled to keep pace on the highway. Combine that with its annoying vibes, lazy steering, and questionable fit and finish, and the Buccaneer left a sour taste in our mouths. A Chinese-manufactured motorcycle with an iconic Italian name. Say hello to the Benelli TnT300. In a way, both the Razkull 125 and Buccaneer Cafe are outlier motorcycles. The former exists in a world where cheap is key, while the latter doesn’t really have a direct competitor. What we have here, however, with the Benelli TnT300 is different. Benelli is going head-to-head with established players in this field. You might recognize the Benelli name as an Italian icon, but as John Burns explains in his TnT300 review, the historic Italian marque has been under Chinese ownership since 2005, with SSR being its U.S. importer. Italy vs. Japan, via China and Thailand When it comes to small-displacement (as in, 300cc-ish) naked motorcycles, the field is rather slim. Sure, Kawasaki and Yamaha both have naked versions of their Ninja 300 and R3, respectively, but oddly, neither one is yet sold in America. KTM’s 390 Duke is closer to 400cc than 300cc, and its performance bias would trounce the Benelli. BMW’s new G310R seems a worthy adversary, but unfortunately BMW wasn’t yet able provide us a test unit. Kawasaki’s 296cc Z300 would have fit in perfectly with the Honda and Benelli, but for reasons unknown to us, it (and the Yamaha FZ/MT-03) isn’t being sold on this side of the pond. After crossing out the bikes that don’t belong or aren’t available to be matched up with the Benelli, the only one left standing is Honda’s CB300F. Both are minimally-faired, entry-level motorcycles with modest price tags: $4,149 for the Honda (add $500 for ABS); $3,999 for the Benelli (no ABS available). Of course, meeting those price points means the Honda is made in Thailand and the Benelli not too far away in China. But as we’ve noted in past tests of Thai-made Hondas, quality doesn’t lack compared to Hondas made in the Japanese motherland. The same sentiment holds true for the Benelli; despite its Chinese origins, the TnT300 is put together well and is a noticeable step up in craftsmanship from other Chinese offerings. If we didn’t know any better and were told it was made in Italy, we’d believe it. The Honda punches along with its 286cc Single while the Benelli gets double the cylinders with slightly less displacement – 282cc. Both feature dual overhead cams, EFI, liquid-cooling, and four valves per cylinder. As a result, when it comes time to spin the MotoGP Werks dyno, the TnT, with its extra cylinder, proves more efficient, delivering 32.8 hp to the rear wheel compared to the Honda’s 26.2 hp. The 300F’s Single, however, wins the torque battle by a hair – 17.4 lb-ft to 16.6 lb-ft. A closer look at the dyno charts reveals the Honda has a midrange power and torque advantage over the Benelli. Once the Honda signs off at around 8,500 rpm, however, the TnT keeps on pulling. Don’t get too caught up in those figures, though, because the Benelli has a serious flaw compared to its Japanese…(errr, Thai) competitor: weight. The CB300F tips the scales at a svelte 351 lbs, while the TnT comes in a massive 99 lbs heavier, giving the Honda a modest power-to-weight advantage as well as a big torque-to-weight advantage. More than just spec-chart fodder, the weight, power, and stature of the two machines really set them apart on the road despite their visual similarities – that of being small-displacement nakeds. The differences are apparent simply sitting on the two. The Benelli has a taller seat – 31.3 inches vs. 30.7 inches on the CB. From there, the CB looks and feels light and svelte, unlike the TnT. At only 351 lbs, the Honda CB300F is feathery light and far from intimidating for even the newest of riders. “The Honda feels like a smallish beginner bike,” says Tom “Biceps” Roderick, “While the Benelli’s 450-pound curb weight puts it right in there with 600s and liter bikes.” In other words, the TnT feels like a full-size motorcycle. Ergonomically, both Tom and I preferred the Honda by a slim margin. The CB’s seat is better padded, the bars are slightly wider, and the footpegs more relaxed, with Tom complaining about the Benelli’s pegs feeling “a little tight for the long-legged.” It didn’t seem to bother me much, but I’m also shorter than Tom. From a stop it doesn’t take much from the CB300F rider to win the holeshot. The clutch is easy to pull and modulate, and the torque advantage lets you slingshot away. For its part, the Benelli clutch is also easy to use, but a dip in the TnT’s fuelling around 3500 rpm, along with its extra heft, means it’s not quite as quick off the line. Get the Benelli spinning, however, and it moves with impressive gusto. Comparing the Benelli to the Honda pictured above, the TnT even looks more substantial than the 300F – a trait that’s confirmed on the scales. Around town there’s not much splitting either bike. They can both dart in and out of traffic with ease. The Honda feels almost toy-like compared to the Benelli due to its significantly lighter weight, and its advantage over the TnT in the midrange is not as drastic as the dyno curves might have you believe. For its part, the TnT300 isn’t heavy, per se, just noticeably more than the Honda. It likes to rev, too, which both Tom and I were both happy to do since it’s one of the sweetest sounding parallel-Twins in recent memory. It’s got a throaty yet raspy exhaust wail that only sounds better the more you twist your wrist. It was clearly the preferred engine between Tom and I, both for its sound and its performance. “The Benelli’s parallel-Twin spins up quickly, and is more playful, as well as more powerful, than the Honda’s Single,” says Tom. “It’s smoother, too, at freeway speeds.” Get it spinning and the Benelli can easily keep pace and run away from the Honda. Highway speeds are where the Honda starts to protest. You don’t need much leverage to toss the CB300F into corners, but the bars on the Honda are nicely-spaced for doing just that. Non-adjustable suspension leans more towards comfort but can sufficiently handle a trip to the twisties. “The Honda is good up to 75 mph,” Tom notes, “After that it begins to vibe and starts communicating to the rider exactly how fast that poor piston is slamming back and forth.” It’ll go faster, but it won’t like it very much. Meanwhile, the Italian is humming right along, easily cruising at 80 mph. There’s a little vibing coming through the bars, but nothing really to complain about. Start playing on the fun roads and the difference in weight really comes out. The CBR’s lazier 25.3º rake isn’t as sharp as the Benelli’s 24.5º, but Tom and I both agree the Honda’s light weight makes it incredibly easy to toss around. This despite the fact I don’t have the arm girth that Tom has. “Flickable” is the term he jotted down; it’s the same one I’d use, too. That flickability of the CBR doesn’t come at the expense of stability, either, thanks to 3.9 inches of trail (vs. the Benelli’s 3.6 inches). There’s no denying the TnT is a substantially heavier motorcycle, especially when hustling the two back-to-back in the canyons. However, the Benelli is far from taxing and holds its own just fine. The TnT, meanwhile, takes slightly more effort to steer because of its weight, but it’s really only noticeable when riding the two back-to-back. It’s got rebound adjustability at both ends, but as JB mentions in his single-bike review, turning the clickers doesn’t amount to much. If we were to nitpick, the TnT’s initial stroke seems a tad harsher compared to the Honda when hitting a bump, but after that both give a compliant ride and stay composed in corners. Stylistically, however, the Benelli definitely looks cooler with its beefy 41mm inverted fork compared to the Honda’s traditional 37mm stanchions. Braking-wise, neither motorcycle will give pure sportbikes a run for their money, but at least the Benelli looks the part: Twin 260mm wavy discs sit up front, clamped by four-piston calipers mated to steel-braided lines and paired with an adjustable lever. Compare that to the Honda’s single 296mm disc, twin-piston caliper and rubber line. Both bikes stop well enough, but with that kind of fancy hardware, the Benelli didn’t exactly wow us. The Benelli’s (left) twin wavy discs and four-pot calipers definitely look more impressive than the Honda’s single disc and two-pot squeezers, but in reality the TnT is just marginally better. That said, both stopping systems will get you to a halt plenty fast, though the Honda is the only one with optional ABS, a $500 add-on. “The twin front disc brakes on the TNT are sheep in wolves’ clothing,” Tom quips. “More powerful-looking than they actually are powerful, even with the steel braided brake line.” Still, braking performance is better than the Honda. China’s Back In Good Standing I’ll admit, I had already decided on a winner for this test before it even started. After the disappointment experienced with the SSR Buccaneer Cafe, hopes weren’t high for the Buc’s cousin, the Benelli TnT300. The Honda CB300F, being a tried-and-true entity, I thought would surely clean house. After riding the two bikes, however, Tom and I both had to have a long think about things. What it came down to is a matter of size and preference. The Honda will fit the smaller and/or less experienced rider well. It’s slimmer dimensions, lighter weight, and lower seat height will feel less intimidating. Meanwhile, the Benelli skews the other direction, with bigger and/or slightly more experienced riders likely feeling more comfortable on it. You know a motorcycle is good when all we can criticize it for is its milquetoast exhaust note. We can’t fault anyone for choosing the well-engineered CB300F. Ultimately, when factoring in objective measures like weight, the Scorecard shows the Honda as the winner of this test. And by all accounts, the CB300F is a fine motorcycle for the type of rider described above. But from a subjective point of view, the MO Scorecard will show both Tom and I picked the Benelli. Its engine is quite the performer despite its meager displacement, and it sounds much more inspiring than the Honda’s Single. Not only that but it’s also cheaper than the Honda and looks absolutely gorgeous in comparison. And if you’re concerned about dealer support, SSR’s Mel Harris, former VP at American Suzuki for nearly three decades, tells us there are currently 240 dealers across 45 states (including Alaska), and if 2017 growth continues like it did last year, there will be 350-plus SSR/Benelli dealers spread across all 50 states. Both Tom and I were pleasantly surprised by the Benelli TnT300. Killer looks, a sweet exhaust note, a fun chassis, and the right price all are big factors in its favor, making it the one we’d pick of the two. Kudos to a Chinese-made motorcycle done right. With that, here’s Tom to take us out: “About the worst thing I can say about the Honda is it sounds like a muffled fart at any speed. Not exactly inspirational, and especially not sexy, but if that’s where I have to go to say something bad about the Honda, that means overall, it’s a damn fine small bike. “The Honda’s not a bad-looking motorcycle, but compared to the Benelli and its assortment of color options with contrasting body work and trellis frame colors, and twin front disc brakes, and inverted forks, and a twin-cylinder engine for a price $150 less, it stands apart from the Honda. There’s certainly the question of Honda reliability vs. the made-in-China Benelli, but judging on fit and finish, you’d be hard-pressed to view the Benelli as a lesser bike.” Benelli TnT300 + Highs Fun and sporty engine Great styling The price is right, Bob! – Sighs Heavy! Pegs a little cramped for taller riders Expected more from those brakes Honda CB300F + Highs Light makes right All-day comfortable Honda reliability – Sighs Runs out of steam at highway speeds Uninspiring exhaust note Costs more than the Benelli Battle of the Low-Buck Nakeds Scorecard Benelli TNT300 Honda CB300F Price 100% 96.4% Weight 78.0% 100% lb/hp 97.8% 100% lb/lb-ft 74.5% 100% Total Objective Scores 88.1% 98.8% Engine 91.9% 85.0% Transmission/Clutch 85.0% 87.5% Handling 82.5% 87.5% Brakes 85.0% 80.0% Suspension 81.3% 85.0% Technologies 50.0% 50.0% Instruments 72.5% 70.0% Ergonomics/Comfort 72.5% 76.3% Quality, Fit & Finish 85.0% 85.0% Cool Factor 87.5% 72.5% Grin Factor 76.3% 75.0% Tom’s Subjective Scores 80.2% 78.1% Troy’s Subjective Scores 88.3% 82.9% Overall Score 81.7% 82.3% Battle of the Low-Buck Nakeds Specifications Benelli TnT 300 Honda CB300F MSRP $3,999 $4,149 Engine Type 282cc liquid-cooled, Parallel Twin, DOHC, four-stroke, 4-valves per cylinder 286cc liquid-cooled, single-cylinder, DOHC, four-stroke. 4-valves per cylinder Bore and Stroke 65.0mm x 42.5mm 76mm x 63mm Compression Ratio 12.0:1 10.7:1 Rear Wheel Horsepower 32.8 @ 11,200 rpm 26.2 hp @ 8,500 rpm Torque 16.6 lb-ft @ 9,800 rpm 17.4 lb-ft @ 6,800 rpm Transmission 6-speed 6-speed Final Drive Chain Chain Front Suspension 41mm inverted telescopic fork. Rebound adjustable. 5.3 inches travel 37mm conventional fork. Non-adjustable. 4.65 in. travel Rear Suspension Rear Mono Shock w/ Spring Preload & Rebound Damping Adjustability, 4.7 in travel Pro-link single shock, preload adjustable, 4.07 in travel Front Brake Dual 260mm discs, 4-piston calipers Single 296mm disc. Twin-piston caliper Rear Brake Single 240mm disc, Single-piston caliper 220mm disc. Single-piston caliper Front Tire 110/70-17 110/70-17 Rear Tire 140/70-17 140/70-17 Rake/Trail 24.5º/3.6 in 25.3º/3.9 in Wheelbase 55.3 inches 54.3 inches Seat Height 31.3 inches 30.7 inches Curb Weight 450 lbs 351 lbs Fuel Capacity 4.2 gal 3.4 gal Battle of the Low-Buck Nakeds appeared first on Motorcycle.com.

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