#you’re instagram workout videos were fine

[taemins-toothbrush]

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

Be Mine | Frausto

Description: When Frausto accidentally admits to the whole school that he’s never had a valentine, his best friend is determined to rectify that Word Count: 2.8k Pairing: Frausto x Fem!Reader (2nd Person POV) Warnings: mentions of drinking A/N: I know it’s a little past Valentine’s Day but I’ve been writing this since then and finally finished it. Hope you enjoy! x - - -

Frausto had no idea why he’d said it, but he blanked the moment Olivia put her podcast equipment in her face and said, “Tell me a joke.” He hadn’t thought much of it until the next day at school when everyone seemed to be looking at him funny.

“Hey, man, uh, what’s going on?” Frausto asked Spencer in the locker rooms as they changed for their morning workout. “The guys have been looking at me funny since I walked in.”

“Did you not check Instagram last night?” Spencer paused to open the app and handed his phone over to Frausto, grimacing. “Liv posted that clip from her podcast extras on the team, and…it’s not good. I’d have messaged you but I figured you’d seen it already.”

“Tell me a joke,” Olivia’s voice urged off-camera, holding a tiny microphone to his face.

Frausto thought for a moment, his brow furrowing as he said, “Uh, going into senior year of high school and I’ve never had a valentine.”

The video cut off after that but the damage was already done. Frausto felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach, hating that everyone had probably already seen it. 

“It’s okay, man,” Spencer said, placing a hand on Frausto’s shoulder. “Good news is that Valentine’s Day isn’t over so you’ve definitely got time to find a valentine.”

Frausto rolled his eyes, that familiar disdain he sometimes had towards Spencer creeping back in. “Fuck off. Only people who already have someone seem to have that kind of misplaced optimism.”

Coach’s whistle blew, saving both boys from having to continue the heart-to-heart. Frausto poured all of his anger and frustration and embarrassment into the drills. Even though the season was over, they were all still training just to stay in shape for potential upcoming college seasons. 

***

“Have you seen it?” Is the first thing out of Frausto’s mouth as he approaches your locker. 

“Seen what?” You ask, slamming your locker door to see the distraught look on your best friend’s face. “Oh, the video? Yeah, of course.”

“Fuck!” Frausto cursed, running a hand over his face. “If you’ve seen it, everyone’s seen it.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay - don’t worry about it. I’m sure people will have something else to talk about by the end of the day.”

At that moment, a couple girls walked by, shooting Frausto some pity looks. “Frausto, if you still don’t have a date, I’ll be yours,” one of them cooed.

“God, please let it be sooner than the end of the day,” he groaned. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take all this today.”

An idea sparked. “Okay, hear me out: you’ll be my valentine tonight and I’ll be yours. We’ll do all the cliche couple things but without being a couple.”

“I-”

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m in’, then don’t say anything. We’re doing this; I’m cooking you dinner and we’ll watch some dumb rom-com and cuddle on the couch and eat those chocolates you’re gonna bring me. Sound good?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Absolutely not,” you grinned, enveloping him in a hug. “See you tonight. My parents will be gone for date night so it’ll just be us - and you know they like to stay out late.”

“Alright,” Frausto shrugged. “What time should I be over?”

“After practice is fine - just make sure you shower.” You giggled as the bell rang to signal five minutes of passing time, walking in the opposite direction of your best friend as you thought about your newfound plans.

***

Where do I get good chocolates and flowers? Frausto wrote on a note, passing it to Spencer when the teacher wasn’t looking.

Crenshaw good or Beverly good? Spencer wrote back, earning himself a glare from Frausto who didn’t even write anything as he passed the note back. Spencer shrugged, scribbling an answer and passing it back to Frausto who pocketed the information.

“Hot date tonight?” Spencer asked as the two walked out of first period.

“Something like that. Because of that video, my best friend has decided we’re gonna be each other’s valentines - do all the cheesy stuff people usually do when they’re dating except we’re not actually dating.”

Spencer gave him a side-eyed look. “She still doesn’t know, does she?”

“Fuck, no,” Frausto scoffed, shaking his head. “And I’m gonna try like hell to keep it that way.”

“Just don’t do anything you might regret,” Spencer said, giving Frausto a fist bump as the two parted ways for their next classes.

***

The bell for the last period rang and you were a bundle of nerves. All you’d been able to think about had been what you’d make for dinner (Frausto’s favorite) and what movie you’d watch (That Awkward Moment). Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date, but it sure felt like it on some level. With the football team having gone to State that year, Frausto had gained a lot of attention from girls and there was a part of you that was jealous - not jealous in a girlfriend way, but jealous over your best friend. You didn’t want to lose him, at least that’s what you’d been telling yourself for months. There was no way you were going to analyze your feelings any further, especially on a day like Valentine’s Day.

You picked up all the necessary ingredients for dinner on your way home from school, debating whether or not to pick up some flowers for yourself.

You: Are you buying me flowers?

Frausto: Duh - isn’t that what the guy’s supposed to do for his girl on VD?

Your stomach dipped at Frausto’s words, ‘his girl’ replaying over and over as you typed out a response.

You: Good. Don’t forget the chocolates! We’re gonna need something sweet for dessert

Frausto: Smh have a little faith, woman. I’ll text you when I’m omw

You smiled down at your phone before turning it off and heading to check out, ready to get home and start cooking.

***

Frausto pulled into your driveway, cutting the engine and taking a moment before getting out. The flowers and heart-shaped box of chocolates were in the passenger seat, mocking him. “Don’t fuck this up,” he muttered to himself, adjusting the collared shirt he’d run home to change into, along with his nicest jeans. He thought about going for a suit but didn’t want to go overboard. He took a deep breath, grabbing the flowers and chocolates and heading to your door.

“Hey!” You greeted, flinging open the door and giving him a hug. “You look good.”

“So do you,” he replied, finally allowing himself to get a good look at you when you stepped back. The dress you were wearing was one he’d seen you in a few times before, but he’d never taken the time to notice just how well it hugged your curves; you’d put on a little makeup and styled your hair a bit differently than normal. “Here,” he said, hoping his hand didn’t shake as he held out the bouquet of flowers. “A dozen roses was hella expensive and I know how much you like these anyway.”

“They’re perfect,” you gushed, bringing them to your nose and taking a deep inhale. “Thank you.”

Frausto felt the nerves return as he followed you to the kitchen, watching as you put them in water and brought them to the table. It was then that he realized you’d set up a candlelit table for two, everything neatly in its place. “I forgot to ask: what are you making? It smells amazing.”

“Your favorite,” you answered, smirking as you watched his eyes light up. “And a couple other things: salad, rolls, mashed potatoes.”

“I always forget you can cook,” Frausto said, looking at you in awe.

“I’d be hurt but it saves me a lot of time ‘cause I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with you and your football appetite. You know you’re welcome over here anytime, though, right?”

“Of course. We’ve been friends for way too long for me to not take advantage of you and your cooking.”

The two of you laughed, the timer interrupting the rhythm. You took the lasagna out of the oven, letting it cool for a bit. 

“I got my parents to let me use a bottle of wine,” you said, grinning as you pulled out a twist-off bottle of Barefoot and poured two glasses. “Figured this wouldn’t be a real Valentine’s Day date without a little wine.”

“Date?” Frausto asked, nearly choking on his sip of rosé.

You waved a hand dismissively. “You know what I mean.” Your heart was racing at your slip-up and all you wanted to do was forget about it. “Will you help me get the rest of the food done so we can eat?”

“Yeah, sure.”

A few minutes later, the candles were lit and dinner was served. You and Frausto made small talk, catching up on the latest happenings with the rest of your friends and wondering just when Spencer and Olivia would get together and talking about how cute Coop and Patience were together. 

“Got any crushes?” You asked casually, hoping you didn’t give anything away.

“There’s a girl I’ve got my eye on, but I don’t know if she’s into me like that.”

“If not, about half the girls in our class wanna date you,” you joked, but it didn’t quite reach your tone.

“Yeah, but what would be the point of dating someone this close to the end of senior year and the beginning of college?”

“Summer fling?”

“Nah, you know I don’t play like that - I’m a one-woman man.” Frausto paused, taking a bite of salad. “What about you? Should I be chasing away guys who aren’t worthy of you?”

You laughed, shaking your head and hoping you hid your feelings well. “Pretty sure you’d just deem them all as ‘unworthy’ and chase them away before I even went on one date.”

“Hey! As long as they’re not intimidated by me, they’re fine.”

“As if! You can be very intimidating when you feel like it.”

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I love you because I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

The rest of dinner went like that, lots of laughter and teasing back and forth. Frausto helped you clear the table and start the dishwasher, the intimacy of the situation not lost on you. You poured another round of wine for the both of you before heading to your room to change into something more comfortable, Frausto following close behind.

“I’m so glad you convinced me to leave some clothes here,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and grabbing the South Crenshaw Chargers hoodie and shorts he kept in a drawer. Occasionally, you’d wear them yourself, especially when you missed him and the two of you got busy with life and didn’t have much time for each other. They always seemed to smell like him to you no matter how many times you washed them. 

“It’s really come in handy; I’ll have to leave some of mine at yours.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve just forgotten to bring clothes - you just like borrowing mine.”

You shot him a grin as you slipped into your sweatpants. “True. Now, are you ready for this movie? We can make popcorn.”

***

The smell of popcorn filled the air as you took it out of the microwave and put it in the bowl. Frausto worked to open the heart-shaped box of assorted chocolate. You queued up the movie, turning off the lights so the glow of the tv was the only lighting in the room. 

Between the popcorn and the chocolates and the two of you, it didn’t take long for you two to finish them, setting the empty bowl and box on the coffee table as the movie played on. You grabbed a blanket when you got cold, snuggling up to Frausto who let you put your legs across his lap and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You asked, flicking your eyes up to take in his features.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his eyes glued to the screen as Miles Teller and Mackenzie Davis’s characters hung out one-on-one. 

You knew what was going to happen next, letting out a happy sigh when the two characters finally kissed on screen. “They’re my favorite couple in this one,” you murmured, inexplicably shifting closer to Frausto.

“Yeah? How come?”

“I don’t know, there’s something about friends becoming lovers that always gets me. I know boys and girls can be just friends but if there’s chemistry there, why deny it, ya know?”

“I guess, but who wants to ruin a perfectly good friendship on the uncertainty of admitting feelings? Makes no sense.”

“Wouldn’t you rather know if your friend returns those feelings, too, instead of just wondering?”

“I don’t know - it’s tricky. I’ve never had to really deal with that before so I don’t know what I’d want in that situation.”

You didn’t say anything after that, both of you focusing on the movie, your minds elsewhere. You were thinking about Daniel and Chelsea in That Awkward Moment, wondering if that would be you and Frausto someday. Frausto was thinking about whether or not the discussion you’d just had had anything to do with the two of you.

The movie ended and the credits rolled, neither of you making a move to get up right away. You could feel Frausto’s heat radiating off of him and onto you, his hard, muscular body under your fingertips. 

“Did you wanna sleepover?” You asked when you finally grabbed the remote and shut off the tv. “We could watch another movie or just go to bed - you know my parents don’t mind you staying the night, and god knows when they’ll be back from their date night.”

“I wish I could, but I’ve gotta get up early for practice tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you said, untangling yourself from him. “You wanna bring home some leftovers?”

“How could I say no?” He replied, standing up and stretching. You quickly looked away, trying to ignore your racing heartbeat as you caught a glimpse of his abs.

The two of you stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying to figure out how to end the night. You set the container of leftovers down on the table as you reached for Frausto, pulling him in for a hug. “Thanks for a great Valentine’s Day, Frausto,” you murmured. His grip around your waist tightened as he ducked his head into the crook of your neck.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better valentine,” he whispered, pulling away.

“Me either.”

You looked at Frausto and he looked back at you, neither of you saying anything. His hands were still on your waist, yours gripping his forearms as you held your breath. He leaned in, his nose brushing against your cheek before he paused. “If I kiss you right now, am I going to ruin everything?”

“No, Frausto. Kiss me, please.” You were practically begging, a moan leaving your lips as he finally kissed you. Your hands slid up his arms to wrap around his neck, pressing your body as close to him as you possibly could. 

Frausto kissed you with everything he had, squeezing your ass as his tongue tangled with yours. You got lost in him, loving the way he felt under your fingertips. Both of you were breathing heavily when the kiss ended, his forehead resting against yours as you tried to process what had just happened. 

“I’ve been, uh, I’ve been wanting that for a while,” you confessed, your eyes meeting Frausto’s.

“Really?”

“Really,” you nodded, taking his face in your hands. 

“Let me take you on a real date,” he said, a serious look on his face. “This weekend. I can get some time off work and the season is over so there’s no game on Friday.”

“That would be amazing!” Your face lit up as you leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Good night, Frausto.”

“Good night.”

***

“So, how was last night?” Spencer asked as he and Frausto walked down the halls to the lockers after practice. 

“Pretty great,” Frausto admitted, fingering the fabric of his hoodie that he held in his hands. It was the one he’d worn the night before and he wanted to give it back to you. His smile widened when he saw you standing at your locker. “One sec.” He left Spencer, jogging up to you. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” you replied, your smile matching his as Frausto wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a very public kiss. “What’s all this about?”

“What? A guy can’t kiss his girl in front of everyone?” Frausto paused, pushing the hoodie into your hands. “Besides, I wanted to give this back to you - don’t want you getting cold in class.”

“Look at you two,” Spencer gushed, finally ambling up to you and Frausto. “Officially together?”

“Yeah,” Frausto claimed, pulling you into his side. “This’s my girl. Gotta make sure everybody knows it.”

You let out a giggle, placing a hand on his chest as you kissed him again in front of everyone, cheers and applause ringing out around you. “Greatest. Valentine’s Day. Ever.”

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​ 

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

[chrisevansjellybeans]

TikTok Challenge (2)

A/N: Been getting a lot of love on the first part of this and that means the world so thank you guys so much! Here’s part 2 and I hope you enjoy :) 

Chris Evans x Reader 

Warning: swearing(??), indication of smut 

Word Count: 1546

(1)

You shouldn’t have been surprised that your TikTok with Chris would blow up. You weren’t dumb and you had been on TikTok enough to know that there was whole pages just dedicated to your incredible silly and loveable boyfriend. Hell, you followed most of them and quite frankly chatted with some of the creators because they loved your boyfriend as much as you did. 

And yet here you were, stunned, as you stared at your video as it played the iconic scene over and over again and tucked nicely on the side was the number 2.3 million. Over 2 million people liked yours and Chris’s video, and it had only been up for about a week. And the comments were so kind and funny. People demanding that you continue doing small pranks on him or requesting other couple challenges. Your face lit up when you saw Chris Olson commented, since you had tagged him you hoped it would reach him but you weren’t sure. 

“Holy shit.” You mumbled to yourself as you also stared at your follower count. When you had first downloaded your TikTok you had maybe 25 followers, just close friends and family. You had made a couple just silly videos with Dodge and that had made you get a couple hundred more when people started to recognize you, but now you were at 150k. 

Quickly you started thinking of a different video that you could do. Immediately the video of girls going up to their boyfriends like they were about to initiate sex but then stand up and jump on them came to mind. 

Perfect. 

Now you just had to find a way to set up the camera while Chris was in the bedroom. You got up from the couch and made your way to the bedroom, luckily he was still showering after his workout. You glanced around the room and tried to pinpoint the perfect spot for your phone later. 

The dresser on the side wall had some candles on it that would be the perfect prop and it was just out of the way enough that he wouldn’t really notice if your phone was over there. As you fiddled with your phone you heard the shower turn off and Chris’s voice, humming to whatever song he was playing, was getting closer. Quickly, you grabbed your phone and hopped on the bed trying to act like you were just relaxing. 

“Hey babygirl,” Chris smiled at you as he walked out of the bathroom, running a towel through his hair as another was loosely wrapped around his waist. He made his way over to you instead of his closet and leaned down and gave you a kiss. “What ya doing?” 

“Just going through Instagram. Thinking about my hot boyfriend all wet and sudsy in the shower. You know, the usual.” You grinned up at him. He raised his eyebrow slightly as he leaned more on you. 

“Oh really?” He pressed his lips against that spot on your neck that had you melting in his hands. “And why didn’t you join me? I had something I needed you to take care of in there.” The vibration of his voice against your skin was felt as it made your nipples stand at attention and your core ache. 

“Hmm.” You moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair, having him move up so that you could give him a proper kiss. “I’m here now.” 

“That you are, babygirl.” Chris said against your lips as he let the towel around his waist fall down and pulled you closer to him. “Let me show you what you missed.” 

You stood outside, waiting for Dodger to finish going to the bathroom before bedtime. As soon as he finished, you finished turning off all the lights around the house and blowing out any candles that Chris might have missed on his way to bed. 

“Come on, Dodge. Let’s go find daddy.” Dodger followed dutifully behind you, his favorite stuffed Lion secured between his teeth. 

Chris looked like every girl’s wet dream when you walked into the bedroom. He was leaning up against the bed frame with a book in front of him, bare chested and only in a pair of plaid pajamas pants. The icing on the cake though was his new reading glasses he just got. It seemed impossible but he somehow got even sexier with those on. 

You quickly changed out of your clothes and put on your favorite of Chris’s t-shirts to sleep in and since you were about to film a video, put on some pajama shorts as well. You walked over to the dresser with the notion to take off your jewelry, but as you did that you also set up your phone on the spot that you had decided on before. 

When the timer went off you walked over to Chris, once again trying hard not to break character as you tried to seem as seductive as possible. He looked over the top of his book as you moved onto him, straddling his waist. Immediately he set down his book and glasses on the nightstand and his hands found their way to your ass. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for, what would this be, round 4?” You felt yourself blush all over knowing that Chris’s words would be heard on the internet. You didn’t say anything as you lightly kissed right under his jaw. Chris groaned and his head fell back as he gripped your ass tighter. But his face of pleasure soon turned to confusion as you stood up. 

“Worldstar baby!” You laughed as you tapped your elbow and jumped. But of course your “I do my own stunts” boyfriend had reflexes like a goddamn cat and before you could fully land on him he caught you. 

“Are you on crack?” Chris laughed as he tickled your sides as you fell to the side of him. You giggled as he continued to tickle you. 

“It’s for-” you could barely finish seeing as you couldn’t breathe from laughing. You pointed to your phone on the dresser. “Tiktok babe.” 

Chris groaned as he stopped his ticklish assault on you and pushed his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Babe!” He groaned as he rolled over and sat up, looking directly in the camera like a scene out of the office. You sat up behind him and wrapped your arms around his neck as you smiled into the camera as well. 

“Smile for the fans, honey.” You joked. 

“Wait, so does that mean no sex tonight?” 

“Christopher!” You glanced at the camera which had once again ended at the perfect time. 

“Ha. Now you won’t post it.” Chris chuckled. 

“Babe, if you don’t think that every girl, gay and they on that app won’t get excited at the sound of you saying that; you truly don’t know your own fans.” You kissed his cheek and bounced over to your phone watching the video. You bit your lip as you watched, slightly concerned that it might be a little too scandalous in the video. You knew that there were worse things on that app but you knew that you had to be more careful for Chris’s sake. 

“Chris, come watch this.” You turned to him. “I don’t want to post it if you think that Caroline will kill me.” Caroline, his publicist, worked hard to make sure that Chris maintained his image as the wonderful human being that he was. He obviously didn’t make it hard to do but you didn’t want to cause any issues. 

Chris sighed as you sat next to him, leaned your head against his chest and let the video replay. 

“If it’s too sex tape-ish in the beginning I wont post it. Just having it for myself is enough.” You said as Chris watched the video closely. You bit your lip as the part where you’re on top of him played. 

“But you want to post it?” Chris asked when the video finished. He turned to look at you fully, placing his hands on the tops of your thighs.

“I mean of course, it’s funny and I think people would like it. Our other video has already gone viral. But I’m not going to do anything that you are uncomfortable with. I know you like your privacy.” 

“I think it’s fine to post. I mean there’s not much worse that can happen since the other incident.” You rubbed his hand that was resting on your leg. “If Caroline has a problem with it she can talk to me, but I say it’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?” You asked once more before you posted it. “This might be the video that shoots us into TikTok fame. Forget Captain America, this will be your biggest gig yet.” You joked. 

“I can not stand you.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Now let’s please either have the sex that I thought I was getting or go to bed.” He laid down and raised his eyebrows seductively. He lightly tapped the spot next to him and then made circular motions with his hands. 

“You’re a dork.” You laughed as you set your phone down and decided to reward your boyfriend for being so cooperative.

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

As it turned out, Tony did make great pancakes. Peter woke up the next day to the smell of them, and shyly headed in the general direction it was coming from, until he reached the kitchen. Tony was standing there, wearing impeccable gray dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a green tie, as he added batter to a frying pan. Peter supposed that was what heaven would look like when he died.

“Oh, hey, kitten, you’re up.” He grinned at him, who smiled in return, nodding. He had put his clothes from the night before back on, and he was glad he did, because Tony was dressed to the nines and it would have been awkward if he had shown up in just his boxers or something. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” And it was surprisingly true. Peter hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a while, he supposed he missed sleeping next to someone. He did share a bed with Beck for two years, so it felt awfully lonely to sleep by himself. “Are you headed to work?” He asked as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island and Tony nodded guiltily, fixing two plates of pancakes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to make arrangements to get the morning off, but duty calls.” To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry, so Peter thought maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of him. Maybe.

“It’s okay, I have to be home soon, or my friends will worry.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. They wouldn’t notice he was gone until lunchtime, since they both had work or class in the morning, but when they did notice, they would freak out.

“I thought you lived by yourself?” Tony sounded interested as he sat beside him by the kitchen counter and pushed a plate his way. Peter thanked him, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pancake.

“I do, but we live in the same building, so we’re always checking in on each other.” Tony hummed, nodding, and they were silent for a little while, until the older man spoke up again.

“Can I ask about your relatives?” He felt his eyes on him and knew that, much like the night before, he was testing the waters, making sure Peter was comfortable with that subject.

“Sure. I don’t have any, though. I’m an orphan, I’ve lived in foster homes for most of my life.” Peter didn’t really mind talking about that period – it was basically all he knew. He was too little when his parents died and was only ten when Ben and May passed away, so the foster homes were where he made most of his memories.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tony winced, maybe thinking he had touched a sensitive subject after all, but Peter smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. My friends are like family to me now, so I’m good.”

“I’m glad you have them.” Again, he gave him that genuine smile that made Peter believe he was actually glad to hear that. Like he actually cared. “So… Can I see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?” The older man turned his body to face Peter, who froze for a second with the mug held to his lips, mid-sip.

“Oh, uhm…” Peter almost chocked on the coffee, not quite believing his ears. He honestly thought that the older man would slowly disappear from his life. Or maybe not even that slowly. Peter figured he had gotten what he wanted, so why would he stick around? “I mean, sure. If you want.” He said, like an idiot, and Tony raised a brow.

“I really do, but I don’t mean to pressure you, so if you want to say no and just go back to what we had, that’s okay. Or not even that, if you prefer. Just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.” He sounded honest enough, but Peter quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, it’s okay, I definitely wanna do this again.” He assured him, and Tony seemed satisfied with his answer, expression softening as he nodded.

After breakfast, the older man insisted on driving him home and when they arrived at his building, he felt a little awkward as to how to say goodbye, but Tony made it easier by simply leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, one hand stroking his knee in a gentle caress.

“I’ll call you later, kitten.” He promised and Peter just sighed quietly, feeling dizzy.

He was a little out of it for the rest of the day, both Ned and MJ asked what was wrong with him in separate occasions, but he just said he was tired from his new routine. They had dinner together and when he went back to his apartment that night, he was just mildly surprised that he actually got a call from Tony. It was an innocent, sweet phone call, too. He did not expect that, to be honest, they had been sexting for two months and they had actual sex the previous night, so he kind of expected Tony to just go for it.

But no.

He asked about his day, about his friends, he told him about his own day, then somehow they ended up talking a little bit about Peter’s childhood, his parents, aunt May and Uncle Ben, it was just a really nice chat, which he appreciated. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking dirty to Tony, but the fact that he called just to have a normal conversation with no second intentions was, well. Nice.

He didn’t really know where they were going with that, probably nowhere, really, Peter was an ex-porn star, Tony was an A-list celebrity, a billionaire and a fucking Avenger, so there was literally zero chance they could evolve to something else. They would probably just go out a few more times, have mind-blowing awesome sex, and then go their separate ways. And Peter was okay with that.

It was fine. Really. It was just fine.

And it was for the best, otherwise how would he explain to Ned and MJ that he was dating Tony Fucking Stark? It would be a nightmare. MJ would kill him and lecture him on how big corporations like Stark Industries were destroying their way of life and Ned would pass out – and possibly die – so, yeah. It was a good thing they had no real future together.  

That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, though. Tony was really nice, a true gentleman, a good conversationalist, a great kisser and an amazing lay. So whatever he could get out of those moments they had together, he would. Everything was perfectly fine and under control. And did he mention fine?

The next morning, he woke up early and went for a jog around the block. He had been experimenting with different types of workout routines, but he thought he might stick with jogging and yoga for a while, he was even looking for a yoga studio close to his building so he could start training more seriously. When he got back, he took a long shower, made breakfast and spent a few hours answering people on Just4Fans, then posted a few pictures there, linked it to his twitter account and let people know on Instagram.

Tony texted him mid-morning and Peter blushed like a teenager when he read his message.

“Just saw the new pics, you look stunning as always, baby, but I have to admit I’m spoiled now, pictures are not enough. Can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir, keep it coming.” He smiled to himself and bit his lower lip, excited by the prospect of seeing Tony again so soon. “Tomorrow sounds great, where are we going? Should I start stressing about the dress code?”

“I was thinking you could come over. Did I mention that I’m a great cook? Pancakes aren’t my only specialty.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach. It was stupid, of course, but he just found it endearing that Tony wanted to cook for him.

“I’d love to. I’m curious about your cooking, your pancakes did taste fantastic.” Just the thought of that morning and, more importantly, the night before that, made his mind wander, as a quiet sigh left his lips.

“Prepare to be blown away.”

“You’re so humble, I love that about you.” The young man smiled to himself.

“Thank you, kitten, it’s one of my many qualities.” Peter laughed at his antics.

They settled on a time and Tony insisted on picking him up, even though it was obviously inconvenient since they were having dinner at his place, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Peter gave in. They talked a little more, but soon Tony had to go back to work and now that the younger man knew exactly who he was, he imagined it was a lot of work.

He went on with his Saturday – in the afternoon, he took a few pictures and videos with different sets of lingerie he bought with MJ when they went to Victoria’s Secret, and that should be enough to last him at least a few days. At dinnertime, he went down to his friends’ apartment, as usual, and they were both home.

“What’s up, nerd,” MJ greeted from the couch, but didn’t raise her eyes from her phone.

“Hey, Pete, dinner is almost ready,” Ned called from the kitchen island.

“Want me to set the table?” He walked over to where Ned was fishing a plate out of the microwave.

“Sure.”

Peter knew his way around the kitchen, so he got to work, placing the plates and cutlery on the small, square table by the counter.

“Hey, are you up for a Star Trek marathon tomorrow night? I don’t have any classes next Monday morning, we can stay up late.”

“Oh, uhm. I –“ Fuck, he hadn’t really thought of an excuse for why he wouldn’t be having dinner with them. “I can’t, because…” He noticed that MJ had finally raised her eyes from her phone, only to stare at him suspiciously. “I have this thing, uhm, on my Just4Fans… Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you just schedule the posts?” MJ asked from the couch, because of-fucking-course she knew about that.

“Uhm, yeah, I can, but – uhm. It’s a live stream. I’m live streaming tomorrow for the first time. It’s good for tips and stuff, so. Yeah. I’ve already let everybody know, I can’t cancel.” He gave them an apologetic smile, trying to look convincing, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a nervous wreck.

“Oh. Ok, then.” Ned shrugged and didn’t seem bothered at all, but MJ kept staring at him from the couch, like she could smell his bullshit from a mile away. She didn’t say anything, though, for which he was grateful.

The next morning, he woke up early and decided to skip his usual jog around the block and just did a short yoga session in his living room, warmed by the morning sun that flooded his apartment at that time. He had lunch with his friends and spent the afternoon with them, but left early with the excuse that he had to get ready for his “live stream”.

When the older man texted to say he was waiting outside, Peter was already showered and dressed and skipped downstairs two steps at a time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to a billionaire’s house, but he decided casual was probably fine, so he put on a pair of light blue jeans and a light pink, thin sweater.

Tony was driving a low-profile, black SUV and he got out of the car when Peter stepped outside the building. He had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on, dark blue jeans, a Metallica t-shirt and sneakers, and if Peter didn’t know it was him, he would never have thought that was actually Tony Stark.

“Hey, gorgeous, looking good.” Tony didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull him closer by the hips, stealing a chaste kiss from his lips. Peter blushed and completely forgot he should be worried that Ned or MJ might see them if they came downstairs for something, or even if they looked out the living room window. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“Thanks, but you should get your eyes checked.” He joked as he let go, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, I think so too, I think constantly staring at such beauty is taking a toll on my eyesight, I’m an old man, after all.” Tony pulled him by the chin and stole yet another kiss. When he pulled away,  Peter shook his head and laughed.

“Oh my God. Seriously, do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?” He had a feeling that if it was anyone else saying half the things Tony said to him daily, he would find it corny and possibly annoying, but somehow the older man made everything sound charming, sweet, sexy, endearing – hell, everything at once. And he always knew what to say to make Peter’s knees go weak, it was unnerving sometimes.

“No, you just inspire me daily, baby.” He gave him a charming smile, as he opened the door and gestured for Peter to get in the car.

The ride to Tony’s place was filled with the sound of the older man humming along to the music playing. Peter didn’t recognize any of the songs, it was a classic rock playlist, but then he heard a familiar beat and thought it was a great opportunity to stick his foot so deep inside his mouth he almost choked.

“I love Led Zeppelin!” He didn’t exactly love Led Zeppelin and he was quite sure he had just heard a cover of that song, not the original version, but he thought he’d sound cool if he said that. When he looked over, though, Tony was laughing his head off. Peter blushed a deep crimson, eyes widening as he realized he must have said something incredibly dumb.

“Oh, you’re not joking.” Finally seeming to realize that the younger man wasn’t laughing along with him, Tony turned down the volume, as they approached Stark Tower’s garage entrance. “That’s Back in Black by AC/DC, kitten. But hey, I love Zeppelin, too, who doesn’t?” He smiled warmly, looking at him sideways, and Peter nodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” Fuck his life. Of course he had to make a complete fool of himself right at the beginning of the night. He wanted to jump out the window from embarrassment, but it would only add to his humiliation, since Tony had already parked and got out of the car.

The older man opened the door for him and Peter avoided eyes contact, as he led him to the elevator. He could still feel his cheeks burning on the ride up, his head was starting to hurt from shame. Was that a thing?

“Hey, don’t be like this.” Tony pulled him into a loose hug, kissing his temple with a soft smile on his lips. “It was an honest mistake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to identify whatever it is you kids listen to these days.”

It was oddly comforting to hear that. Even though he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be mean to him back in the car, it was hard not to feel attacked in situations like that. Beck always tried to make him feel dumb, inferior and juvenile whenever he got the chance.

So he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and nodded slowly. He was going to say something like “don’t worry, I’m fine” but it got lost somewhere in the back of his throat when the older man held him a little tighter and stroked his hair.

The whole interaction lasted merely a few seconds, soon the elevator doors opened to the familiar sight of Tony’s living room, looking just as impeccable as it did a couple of nights earlier. The older man gestured for Peter to lead the way and he did, paying closer attention to the details, since he was a little too nervous to do it the last time he was there.

What he realized when he took a look around, was that the penthouse didn’t look lived in at all. It was all glass and metal, shiny floors and sophisticated furniture, black and gray decoration – it looked ready to be featured in one of those shows that listed the most beautiful houses in the world, but it didn’t look like a place he would like to go back to at the end of the day.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” Peter asked, as Tony led them in the direction he remembered the kitchen and the dining room were.

“That obvious, huh?” The older man winced and Peter flushed, realizing he might have been a little rude in his observation. “But yeah, when I’m home, I spend most of my time down in the workshop.”

“Ah, the famous workshop. I suppose if I were to visit right now there would be pictures of me hanging on every wall?” He joked, remembering that Tony had once told him that he would hang his pictures in the workshop and never get any work done.

“I mean, not every wall…” He turned to him and winked, leaving the younger man a little unsure if he meant it or if he was just messing around. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the man’s sarcastic sense of humor. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.” He promised, when they finally reached the dining room.

The table was set in a simple manner, for what Peter was glad, it made him feel more comfortable and at ease. Tony pulled out a chair for him then headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining room only by a long, wide counter, where the had breakfast the other day.

The man came back with wine, pouring two glasses for them, then he started placing the dishes on the table. There was mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and roast chicken, and the smell was to die for, Peter’s stomach rumbled and he wasn’t even that hungry.  

“Voilà. This was my favorite meal as a kid, my grandma used to make this for me all the time when I spent summers with her.” He took a seat across from Peter, looking at him expectantly. The younger man found his enthusiasm amusing, so he fixed a plate under Tony’s eager supervision. “Tell me what you think. But be nice, I haven’t cooked this in a while, it might be a little dry.”

Peter took a bite of the chicken first, and it took him a few moments to feel the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, and the seasoning tasted inexplicably like home – it didn’t taste like something he could order at a restaurant, let alone a frozen meal he could buy at the supermarket. He then tried the mashed potatoes along with the grilled veggies and almost cried.

“Tony, this is so good, have you considered dropping everything and starting a restaurant?” he gushed, taking another bite of the chicken only to confirm that, yes, that was probably what paradise tasted like.

“Don’t exaggerate. I already like you plenty, kitten, you don’t need to flatter my cooking skills.” Tony smiled, shaking his head lightly, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he might think he was blushing.

“I’m not, this is seriously the best homemade meal I’ve ever eaten,” he insisted and Tony cocked his head to the side, with a confused smile and a frown

“What the hell have they been feeding you, kid?” He asked and Peter chuckled.

“Well, I spent most of my life in foster care and I was never lucky enough to end up in a family that liked to cook.” The families he stayed with weren’t bad – not compared to some of the horror stories he heard from other foster kids he met in the past – they just weren’t good. They provided him with the bare minimum for survival, so water and enough food to avoid starvation. “And uncle Ben and aunt May, dude… They couldn’t cook for shit.” He laughed, remembering Aunt May’s date loaf, which was probably the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Well, now I feel obligated to feed you properly,” Tony announced, and Peter quickly shook his head, feeling his face grow red for the hundredth time that night.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, I wasn’t–”

“I want to, if I’m your only source of good, homemade food, then I’m taking this seriously, kitten.” He pointed a fork at him as he spoke. “And you can help me cook, what do you say? That way I can teach you a thing or two so you won’t starve to death.” Again, the idea that Tony wanted to cook for him was too sweet. He was an incredibly busy guy who probably didn’t even cook for himself, but he was willing to waste that kind of time on Peter. It just–

“Sounds amazing.” He smiled, nodding, and the older man’s face softened when their eyes met.  

“Good.” He took a sip of wine and topped off both of their glasses. “Did you tell your friends you were coming here today?” That seemed like a polite way to ask if they knew about him, and Peter wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

“No, they think I’m home.” He watched the man’s face, waiting for his reaction, but there was none, so Peter felt like he should explain himself further. “After my ex – they’re just a little too overprotective, so, you know. I just don’t want them to worry.” Tony raised his eyebrows and Peter’s eyes widened, realizing what that might have sounded like. “Not that I think you’re my – that we’re – I mean, I’m not assuming anything, I just meant –“

“Hey, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” He reached across the table to squeeze one of his shaking hands. “Your friends sound like good people, by the way. You’re lucky to have them.”

“Thanks.” Tony smoothly changed the subject and started talking about his summers with his grandmother and how she taught him everything he knew about cooking. He said that was the reason why his repertoire consisted only of comfort food and Peter thought that was the sweetest thing he had learned about him so far.

Once dinner was done with, Tony kept his promise and gave him a tour. The place looked like a labyrinth made of glass and steel, there were five floors, several rooms with various purposes, but everything seemed sterile and impersonal, like nobody ever stepped foot in any of those places, which somehow made them look lifeless and even a little scary – like a ghost town of sorts. Peter couldn’t help but think that his tiny, mostly empty apartment felt more like a home than all five floors of Tony’s.

Well, all except for one.

“And this is the workshop,” Tony declared with a flourish when the glass doors slid open, revealing a wide, open space filled with worktables, holographic screens, robots, cars, Iron Man suits, and so many other things he had never seen before in his life. “Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry, though, he sounded happy and proud, and Peter thought it was the only place in the penthouse that felt weirdly cozy and homey. To his relief – and secret disappointment –, there were no pictures of him in lingerie hanging on the walls.

“This is amazing…” Peter breathed out, realizing that that was Tony’s actual home. There was even a kitchenette in a corner, and next to it there was a small, cozy couch in front of a reasonably sized TV and a fluffy rug. He supposed Tony took naps there, too, because there was also a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He walked over there, followed closely by the older man, and took a seat, sinking into the soft pillows.  

“I think this is my favorite room.” He blinked up at Tony, who regarded him silently for a few moments, and Peter started to think he had fucked up again. “What?” He whispered, but his answer came in the form of a kiss. He immediately melted into it, all worries flying out the window as he opened his mouth to taste him better.

Tony pushed him gently until he was lying on the couch with his larger body on top of him, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

It was a tight fit, but they made it work, as pieces of clothes were thrown to a pile on the floor; as skin met skin and made the room feel unbearably hot; as hands explored and mouths danced together and teeth left secret claiming marks on eager necks; as he felt, once again, full and sate and whole, and then spent and lax and dazed in the best of ways.

Suddenly, what had been frantic and passionate became slow and soft, what had been loud and messy became quiet and wholesome.  

The room was silent then, as their bodies slowly cooled down. Tony was lying on his back on the couch and Peter was lying on top of him, chests flush together, breathing in and out in sync. He felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and he all but melted into the body underneath him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He whispered quietly into Tony’s neck, after several minutes, not sure if the older man had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and constant.

“Baby, you could ask me anything right now, there’s no way I’d say no to you.” He answered right away and Peter giggled, pushing himself up on Tony’s chest to look down at him.

“Why did you want to meet me? For real?” Tony, whose eyes had been closed until that moment, opened them to gaze at him. He was quiet for a while, as one of his hands found the small of Peter’s back under the blanket and started rubbing circles on his skin.

“I liked talking to you.” He answered quietly, eyes locked on his. At first, Peter thought that was all the answer he was getting, and he would have been fine with that, but Tony kept talking. “You made me feel alive again.” His heart raced and his breath hitched in shock. He blinked down at the older man, who raised his free hand to tuck some of Peter’s curls behind his ear. “You see, things were… rough. After Thanos.” He remembered the funny story Tony told him in the restaurant a few nights earlier and was surprised to see such grief in the man’s eyes. “I had these nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Couldn’t sleep most nights.”

Peter reached out and ran a finger across the man’s forehead, trying to smooth down the frown that had formed there. Tony smiled, grabbing that hand to give it a little kiss.

“Pepper wanted me to give up the suit for good, said it was killing me and she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen. On top of that, my relationship with some of the Avengers was strained, to say the least. I thought retiring from the Avengers would be enough to solve most of my problems, but I was wrong and everything just kind of snowballed from there. So what I mean to say is that by the time I met you, I was… Fucking exhausted.”

“Tony...” He frowned, heart clenching, because he could hear the pain in the man’s voice and how much he meant every word and it was devastating.  

“I looked forward to talking to you every night, you know. Still do. I don’t why you got under my skin like that, but you did. So when I said I needed to meet you, I meant I needed to meet you.” He smiled and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The whole confession was almost too much to handle, too much to believe. At the same time, he knew what Tony meant because he had also been in a very dark place when they met and, somehow, talking to him brought some light back into his life. “My turn?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, entwining his fingers on Tony’s chest and resting his chin on top of them, looking at the older man’s face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I have a feeling this might be a bit of a touchy subject for you.” He cautioned, and Peter gulped. He knew what was coming and he thought about not answering, but Tony had been honest with him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

“O-okay.”

“How did you end up doing porn? Not that it’s bad or anything, you just sounded so uncomfortable the other night... Like you’re ashamed of it, or regretful.” Tony asked carefully, one of his hands was still rubbing soothing circles on the skin of his back.

“Hm… Well. It’s complicated. I guess the short answer is: I was young and dumb and my older boyfriend convinced me it was a good idea. Then he left me and took all the money and everything we’ve ever built with him and – and now the only thing I know how to do is porn, so… Yeah.” It was a very short version of what happened, but very accurate as well. Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean he took everything?”

“He told me to pack a bag and leave. Whatever I couldn’t fit in my bag stayed behind, as well as the social media accounts, the channel, the money… He locked me out of everything.” Peter’s voice grew weaker as he spoke, because he felt so fucking ashamed. Of everything. Of admitting he let a man like Quentin into his life, that he made so many terrible decisions just so he could stay with him, only to be treated like that in the end. It was fucking humiliating.

Tony sat up in a haste, forcing him to do the same, until they were both facing each other on the couch. The older man’s eyes were wide, he looked so shocked it was almost funny. Almost.

“Peter, that’s – why – wait, and what do you mean he convinced you to do porn? Is it not something that you want to do?” Peter dropped his gaze for a second, not really sure what the true answer to that question was. If he was honest with himself, most times he just avoided thinking too much about what he was doing.  

“Well… I don’t hate it anymore, I guess,” he settled on that, after a few minutes of silence. “Sometimes I even enjoy it now, like… Like when we talk,” he mumbled the last part, raising his eyes again to look into Tony’s warm ones, and the older man looked back at him with – what? Worry? Regret? Guilt?

“So you hated it? Before?” He insisted, and Peter knew he could still choose not to answer if he wanted to, Tony wouldn’t force it out of him, but still – Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted Tony to know.

To know him. All of him. Even the parts that hurt.

“I did.” He whispered, holding back the tears that filled his eyes when the confession left his lips, because that was something that he never wanted to acknowledge. It took all he had to hold Tony’s gaze and not look away in shame. “I just felt… kinda shitty sometimes. Like… I wasn’t even human, just an object to be used and abused and disposed of.” He continued, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, but his eyes were gentle as always, there was no judgment there. “I didn’t feel like my body belonged to me anymore.” Saying that aloud came almost as a surprise to Peter himself. He always tried so hard not to think about those feelings he almost believed they didn’t really exist, even though they were always there at the back of his mind.

“Pete...” Tony cupped his face in both of his hands, he looked so torn, it almost made Peter regret telling him.

“I’m doing okay now, I promise. I’m in control of my body, my choices, my money. I’m fine now, really,” he vowed and Tony pulled his head closer and pressed their lips together – it wasn’t even a kiss, just a caress.

“I can help you.” He offered with determination, holding his face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and they were burning with anger, but Peter knew it wasn’t directed to him. “I can help you get everything back, I can make his life a living hell for doing that to you, I can –“

“Please, don’t,” He winced, shaking his head firmly, lifting his hands to hold Tony’s wrists, feeling his pulse and how fast his heart was beating. “Okay? It’s in the past. It’s over now. I don’t want to – relive it, I just want to forget.” His heart raced when the older man closed his eyes and started shaking his head. “Tony?”

“Peter, you can’t ask me to –“

“I am asking you leave it alone.” He insisted, a little desperately, but Tony’s face was locked in a frown and panic started creeping up on him. He couldn’t bear to think about confronting Beck, having to see him again, maybe talk to him again, he just wanted to move on, to forget he ever existed. His eyes burned and he closed them, trying to get his breath under control, but he could feel his hands shaking. “Please, please, don’t make me –“

“Hey, no, no, no.” Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. “I’m sorry, no, I would never force you to do anything, okay? It’s your choice.” He cupped his face in his hands again, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Peter started calming down slowly, and even laughed a little when the man’s beard tickled his nose. “You know that I see you, right? And I mean I see you, Peter Parker, not the persona in the videos or the pictures, and you sure seem pretty fucking human to me, kid. You know that, right?” Tony kept holding his head in between his hands, forcing Peter to look back at him, which wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t look away if he tried.

He smiled, nodding slowly, leaning in to kiss his lips. The older man lay back down, pulling him along, until they were back to their original position. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

He felt Tony wrap his arms around his waist, holding him tight, and he thought to himself that if heaven looked like Tony making breakfast in the morning and tasted like his cooking in the evening, it certainly felt like holding him at night.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

Sorry for the long chapter, guys, it really got away from me 🥴 Only four more chapters to goo ✨✨

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | You’re Slim Thick [Request]

Slim Thick:  The term describes a woman with “with big/toned thighs, plump booty, normal sized hips AND a flat/toned stomach

Seokjin:

The fans loved you and everything that you did for them, a few of them had convinced you to turn your personal Instagram into a business account so that more people could find you. You were always promoting self-love and how to love yourself a lot as the boys and Jin helped you a lot with it since it was he and the boys that had helped you anyway.

"You alright?" Jin asked when he came in from the studio one night to see you scrolling through something on your phone, you were frowning at it but had a small smile on your lips.

"Someone made a fan account?" You laughed nervously and showed him the phone screen. Someone had created an entire Instagram page dedicated to you and your way of promoting self-love. There were video edits and image edits, and although you and Jin were together and had many photos together not a single one appeared on the account. The owner - whoever it was - claimed that this was a place just for you and your positivity, not that Jin wasn't positive but they wanted a place to express their love for everything you did for them and many other people alike.

"It's sweet, they're all sharing stories about how you've helped them grow and learn to love themselves." Jin continued reading through the stories and told you some of the ones that he saw. They really loved the way that you used your platforms in a positive way and how you were always kind to everyone that you met even in real life, fans came up to you and you were always calm to them.

Yoongi:

You were an Instagram influencer before you and Yoongi started dating but once it was announced that you were together your account got bigger and you were recognised more whenever you were Yoongi or alone.

"It's a small interview, you'll be okay." Yoongi said as you stood in the waiting area with him, you'd been asked to give a small interview after some Army and some of your fans had nominated for you an award. You'd won by a landslide but now you had to give an interview about why you had won and what your account was about.

"They love you, it'll be fine." He assured you, he took hold of your hand and reminded you why you'd been nominated in the first place. You’d been nominated for ‘Inspirational influencer of the year’ someone who had been a positive influence to those who follow them,

“Y/n?” You looked up and followed a lady into her office ready to do the interview.

When it came out online everyone loved it, complimenting you on everything that you had mentioned in the interview. You’d been questioned on everything you posted about, and why you posted them and you said there was too much negative in the world and everyone deserved to think positively about their body and everyone elses body.

“People come in all different shapes and sizes, not everyone is going to blend into one mould and everyone should be different. More power to you if you’re different, you’re unique and brilliant in your own special way.” Yoongi read out the last quote you’d given and you smiled at him as he came over and gave you a kiss on the cheek, reminding you of how proud he was of you.

Hoseok:

"No, look I'm telling you it wasn't her it was the one that was in the closet-" You stopped talking to Hoseok about the killer show you had started that morning when you saw a fan standing behind him.

"Hi." You said with a smile to her and she smiled back,

"Do you want me to take a photo of you together?" You offered but she shook her head and smiled,

"I wanted to talk to you...to thank you actually." You and Hoseok both looked taken back. Your relationship had been out for a year and you'd had a couple of fans come up and thank you for keeping Hoseok happy but this was different.

"I wanted to thank you for always putting out positive vibes for us, for all body types. You're always so nice with us and other people and you're so sweet." You smiled at her as she continued to list the things she was thankful to you for. Hoseok smirked from his seat as he watched her talking to you.

"You're always putting out realistic goals for everyone's body it's just a nice change to see that instead of all the other people that are too skinny for words, or try to put on unrealistic goals." You smiled at her and moved over so she could sit down next to you and ask you more questions because you could tell the conversation was far from being over.

"What work outs do you do?" You shrugged your shoulders and looked at Hoseok,

"Dancing with him mostly but sometimes I run or swim when I feel up to it." It was as though she was taking notes down in her head but she smiled and told you she was going to try them all out at some point.

Namjoon:

You made videos online for people to watch, you'd been doing it for years and continued to do it when you were dating Namjoon but the small following you had gathered had grown into a huge one since Army wanted to watch the person who made their idol happy but they were also learning a lot from you. They started to love you more for your than just because you were dating someone that they loved, you were always coming across as positive in the videos and you never used Namjoon to grow your own following. The only time he’d ever appeared in videos were in bloopers or the one time you did a dance practice together but they loved it. They also loved the fact that you were always trying to spread body positivity on your youtube account as well as all of your social media accounts, you’d noticed someone being hated on in your comment section and you went into the comments and defended them against people who were being mean. Army joined in and decided to help defend the girl that had been bullied on.

“You took it down in a positive way though, no one bullied them back.” Namjoon said that night, you’d curled up next to one another in bed and you told him you were worried it would reflect badly. But the girl who was being attacked didn’t deserve it.

“You did the right thing Jagi,” He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

Jimin:

You were backstage in the changing room going through twitter when you found the thread about yourself, it was bizarre to you to find something like this. It was a thread dedicated to you and the way your body was shaped, focused on what you ate and what you did to maintain your figure. You read through it all before showing it to Jimin after his concert,

"They got some things wrong though, do I correct them?" You didn't want to piss anybody off by telling them they were wrong but you also didn't want people trying out the diet and workouts they'd put down that you did when you didn't.

"Yeah, if they're wrong you should make it right Jagi." He went off to shower after giving you a kiss on the head and you retweeted the thread telling them all of the corrections. Mentioning that you didn't have a specific diet type and just mentioned everything you ate on the daily basis and mentioning the actual workouts that you did. Instead of the harmful ones that had been listed that you had done.

“All good?” Jimin asked jumping over the back of the sofa and sitting down next to you, you handed him your phone proudly and smiled.

“They love you for this,” He chuckled reading through some of the comments that were thanking you for spreading light on everything that had been said in the thread and thanked you for being the way you were.

Taehyung:

You were doing a vlive with Taehyung, he’d invited you on to react to the newest music video and the new single that Army had been given earlier that day and it had started with you giving your first impressions and reactions but it had somehow turned into q&a session about you. Army asking you questions on your body type and how you managed to maintain it even when you were travelling a lot with Taehyung.

“I tend to work out in the gyms with him whenever he’s on tour and when we’re home I’ll normally just do some dance routines,” Then the questions started to flood in about what you ate and questioning you on advice for clothing styles that would best suit people of simuliar build.

“I tend to dress for me rather than everyone else, don’t let anyone put you in a box. If you want to wear something, wear it. Simple as that.” You giggled as more questions flooded in but you tried to keep the vlive on track of what was happening and what the vlive was originally about.

Jungkook:

You were sitting on your phone scrolling through your Instagram comments to try and reply to as many people as you could, you always tried to do this after posting something because a lot of ARMY would come to your comment section and ask for opinions on things, or question you on your body type and you didn't mind answering them.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asked when he looked up at you, you had furrowed your eyebrows together and you were staring down at your phone.

"Nothing, I'm just trying to think of how to respond to something that someone asked." He moved to sit next to you and you showed him the question,

"Might be better to go live and talk about it." You nodded in agreement and opened up an Instagram live. Jungkook moved away from you again not wanting the entire thing to be about him being there.

"Hi guys, I'll wait for a couple of you to flood in and then I'll talk about the question that was left under my photo." You said with a smile trying not to come across as nervous, you'd never done anything like this before. The only time you'd been on a live video was with Jungkook and even then the focus was on him and not you and your body type.

"Okay so the question was ''How do I dress for our body type, we're the same way and I can't find anything that looks nice." You sighed and scratched the back of your neck.

"For me I tend to dress however I want, or in a way that makes me feel confident. Don't let anyone ever tell you what you can and can't wear, if you like it and the outfit makes you happy, wear it." You read through some of the comments that were moving quickly.

"You're always so positive about these things, how do you do it?" You smiled as you read it out and shrugged your shoulders.

"My whole life I was brought up being told what I did and didn't look good in, what people didn't want me to wear and in the end I decided that I would do whatever I wanted to do. Wear what I was confident in and not care what anybody else thought about it. It took me a long time before I finally got to that point but dress how you want is the answer to that." The live continued on for another hour until they ran out of questions and then you ended it, Jungkook coming over to you and hugging you from the side.

"You did good Jagiya," You hummed and closed your eyes resting your head on his shoulder and smiling about how lucky you were to have him.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @fan-ati--c​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[tetsorous]

ushijima headcanons

He’s such a gentle sweet boy and he’s so attentive to those around him and he cares so much but he doesn’t know how to word his sentences properly so it might come out as blunt but he cares !!!!

i like to delude myself into thinking that toshi likes to take candids of his s/o and he’s a pretty decent photographer! most of his instagram stories are just candids of his s/o when he’s out on a date! its tooth-rottingly sweet and everyone kinda teases him for it.

He actually uses tiktok but his fyp is just full of sports and workout videos. not too keen of challenges and would never participate in a dancing challenge but short, easy ones are fine with him! i can picture him doing the wotakoi challenge. 

Ushijima is the type to buy things that remind him of you! if he sees a pretty necklace while touring in a different country and he pictures said necklace on your neck, he’ll immediately get it.

He isn’t the type to hide his relationship per se, but he isn’t one to boast it either. If you date him during his high-school days, most people actually wouldn’t be aware. but if you asked if he was in a relationship then he would truthfully answer that he’s in one. he just doesn’t see the need to tell his relationship to everyone.

i think if ushijima were to like a kpop group it would be twice. his favourite song from them? what is love for sure. he lost a bet once and had to dance the choreo, the team had a blast that day

if you’re his s/o and happen to play volleyball too, he would 100% ask you for constructive criticism. also, play! with! him! that’s literally the key to his heart.

slight nsfw!! people who say he isn’t vocal ummmm my mans literally screamed while spiking a ball during s3 🤨🤨  he’s not the loudest but he does occasionally moan and groan during sex

not the type to get jealous easily, actually it’s almost impossible to. ushijima just trusts you so so much and he knows you’re not gonna jeopardize your relationship by flirting with other guys and all that.

he’s a reddit user through and through. He doesn’t post anything on it but he can spend hours scrolling through different subs. one time his favourite volleyball player hosted an ama and he may or may not have commented

[officialwittek]

pt. 1

*gif is not mine*  

word  count: 2,097 

please forgive me if this is rough. i been outta the writing game for a minute. enjoy! 

7:30 am.

The obnoxious ring of my alarm disturbs my peaceful sleep. I groan and move the blankets off my legs, stretching my arms to the ceiling. After my morning stretch I walk to my bathroom and turn the water to the hottest it can go before stripping my pajamas off. I quickly step in the shower, welcoming the warmth on my skin. I let out a sigh as I felt all the tension from my restless night glide down the drain. After a good 15 minutes I finally muster the strength to step out and wrap my towel around myself. I finally dry off and go to my closet to pick out an outfit for the day.

My eyes scan the closet before finally landing on a black pinstripe blazer dress with a zipper slit on the thigh, a thick belt around my waist with a chain in the front, and some knee high boots with black beret. After getting dressed I started on my hair and makeup. I went for a natural but full beat with my favorite pair of falsies and put my hair in a simple French braid down my back. I walked out to meet my roommate Carly.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” I says, she acknowledges me with the wave of her hand and walks back to her room as I smile and start making my matcha latte

I boil some water and grab the oat milk from the fridge. After making my latte I settle on some Oreo cereal for breakfast. I glance up and see my roommate exiting her room, looking ready for the day.

“Whatcha got planned for the day?” Carly asks, I shrug and look at her casually

“I might have a meeting to discuss signing with Arista, and making my own album” I comment casually, watching her eyes widen with excitement

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is David hiding somewhere with his camera?” Carly replies, I shake my head and watch her eyes fill with excited tears

“Baby!!! We have to tell everyone” she exclaims, I shake my head and cross my arms in an X shape

“We will tell them when I finish the meeting, I don’t wanna jinx myself” I whine, she nods understandingly

“Alright I should get going, let me know where you guys are so we can meet up after. You can ONLY tell Erin. I’ll see you later” I say, grabbing my work bag and keys from the counter

After a nerve wracking drive to the office I finally arrived. I take a deep breath and walk into the building where an assistant meets me. We take the elevator to a conference room.

We finally finished the hour long meeting. I brought a friend, who happened to be a lawyer to look over my contract before signing it. I shook their hands and said we would let them know in a few hours. After our meeting my friend and I headed out to get some boba and take a look at the contract. I quietly drank my black milk tea and sent a few texts to my friends.

“Looks pretty good, initial here and here... ok and just put your signature here” She said, I nodded signing and initialing away

They called the label and let them know we had signed the contract. My friend went and dropped off the contract while I headed to David’s. When I opened the door I noticed almost everyone was here, except for Jeff and Scott. I took my shoes off and quietly headed into the house.

“Soo.. what’s the verdict?” Carly asked, everyone looked to me in confusion

“Signed, and I’ll be starting my music journey with Arista today” I yell, my friends jump up in celebration and crowd around me

“We celebrating tonight bitches” Zane exclaims, and at this point who cares that it’s a Monday morning and they’ll most likely forget tonight

“Make sure you guys invite Jeff, and we’ll get Sage so drunk she can tell HIM how horny he makes her” Carly says, prompting David to take out his camera again and makes Carly repeat it

“God I tell Carly ONE time that I would get Jeff crush my head between his biceps and suddenly I’m being crucified for being horny” I retort, earning loud laughs from everyone else

“Tell David what you told me last night, after seeing Jeff’s insta post” Carly commands with a wide smile, I sigh and look right at David so I’m not looking straight into the camera lens

“Allegedly when I was a little litty last night, I was stalking his instagram and I saw the picture of him spraying water on himself in your merch… and allegedly I said that I would let him knock my cervix into my lungs and I would apologize for simply being too weak to handle it” I whispered, but everyone heard me anyways and as if on cue the devil himself walked in through the front door

“Jeff come listen to this” Jason says, showing the footage he recorded of me saying what I just said, I stood there in shock, Jeff quickly turned to me and smirked

“Come here baby” Jeff says, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me to a bedroom while our friends laughed

“Finally, I’m getting the dick I deserve” I yell, Jeff puts me down gently after we round the corner

“Also Todd told me we’re celebrating for you, what happened?” He asks, I tell him the news and he lifts me up again

Jeff and I had been close from the minute we met, it really felt like I met my platonic soulmate to be completely honest. We’re always jokingly flirting with each other for the vlogs and if I’m not with the girls I’m usually with Jeff. Although, lately he’s been too busy to hang out or workout together, on the contrary he’s always free for David and the rest of our friends but when I want to hang out one on one there’s always something. It felt nice, just being the two of us. But alas, as soon as he finished the hug he waltzed right back to our other friends.

“Yea I’ve been doing good, how about you?” I mumble to myself, walking back to our friends as we talk about what to do until the rest of our friends are free to go out for the night

Natalie, Zane, David, and I decided to go somewhere and film some stuff and have a little photoshoot while we were at it. We took some videos of us fucking around in the parking lot of some mall. Zane decided to provide some commentary for the vlog as Nat and I took pictures.

“Look at these whores, won’t take no fucking pictures with me. I’m SAgE anD i’M a FaMoUS MuSICiAn, FuCK YALl” Zane yells, I hand my phone to Nat and walk over to David’s Tesla, grabbing the small paintball gun in the trunk

“Fuck with me again little bitch” I said, walking up to him and shooting him two times in the leg with the paintball gun, he cussed me out on the floor while the three of us laughed our asses off

“Alright let’s get going so we can collect everyone before we go out... or we could have it at  David’s house so I don’t have to worry about flashing my ass to random people?” I ask, making puppy eyes at  David as he reluctantly give in

“Fine, but you’re helping clean up after” He says, I nod eagerly as the four of us pile into the Tesla

“I’ll let Suzy and Jonah know, everyone else will probably be at the house anyways” Natalie says, quickly typing on her phone  

We arrive at David’s house as the sun is setting and we start getting ready for everything. Toddy and Jeff go on an alcohol run, while the rest of us started setting everything up. Natalie and Zane go to get more solo cups and some extra things. I’m helping David put away some valuable things while everyone makes the house presentable and work on making it Zane and Heath proof, which could be impossible.

“Can I be in control of the music king?” I ask, David rolls his eyes at the horrible nickname and nods I connect to the speaker while pouring shots for everyone with the alcohol we have at the house

After I was done pouring the shots the ones who went to run errands came back and we all huddled in the kitchen. I put the down the bottle and we all hold our glasses up.

“May we all get absolutely plastered, and some of incredibly high. Maybe both? And may Zane stay away from the hospital for one fucking night, amen” I yell, we all cheers and take shots

After smoking with some of our friends I go back in the house and find it absolutely packed with people. David is multitasking with taking disposables and filming an incredibly drunk Zane and Ilya. And above all the talking and yelling I hear the familiar beat.

‘Do it, baby. Stick it, baby. Move it, baby. Lick it, baby...’

I scream and run to the make shift dance floor, my girls behind me as I start grinding on Corinna as she smacks my ass. I’m screaming the words, someone hands me a drink and I slowly start to feel myself get loose. Everyone making a circle around Corinna, and myself. We switch and I fall on the couch while Corinna gives me a lap dance.

“PUSSY SO GOOD HE GOT MY NAME ON IT” We scream, grabbing each other as  Zane somehow finds himself on my lap too

After the song I make my way to the bar with Zane and Heath, my favorite drinking buddies. After getting a lot more alcohol in me than my entire being can tolerate we go back and start dancing. I was swaying to the music, occasionally dancing with our friends when I feel someone grab me.

“What do you think you’re doing? Shaking your ass for everyone to see” the faint linger of that Staten Island accent makes me smile, but it quickly changes to a frown when my brain registers the words he said

“What do you think Jeffreyyy? I’m-” “Zane what the fuck” I turn and see our friends huddled around the bathroom

“Watch out everyone” Natalie says, backing up and taking a running start towards the door and successfully kicks it down

“Zane why didn’t you say anything? We thought you were dead man” Jeff laughs, I walk into the bathroom and laugh at the sight

After a few more hours the strangers have left the house and our friend group is still going strong. I quietly nurse my water that Jeff forced me to have. David taking some disposables of the rare quiet moment.

“Zane.. I bet you won’t try and fight Jeff right now” I slur, my world still spinning from the poison in my body  

“For what?” Zane replies, I smirk and look at Jeff

“Dude I’ll straight up kiss whoever wins” I say, David immediately bringing his vlog camera out and quickly explaining the situation

“Wait I wanna fucking get in on this” Ilya says, the three of them getting up... well Zane and Ilya could barely stand let alone fight Jeff, the most sober one here

The three of them start pushing each other, I’m a little too drunk to really understand what was going on. Before I know it Jeff had them both on the ground and was declared the winner

“Sageee... you gotta kiss Jeff” David teases, shoving the camera in my face as I chuckle

“Oh y’all know I wanna do more than kiss. Come here dumb bitch” I say, turning around on the couch as Jeff stabilizes me and plants a kiss right on my lips as our friends scream and jump around. I pull away and David turns his camera off for the moment.

“Can I pleasee have more shots.. Zane, Ilya get your dumbasses up we’re getting more drunk so David has content” I yell, the two of them immediately getting off the floor and walking with me to the kitchen

“David, come here I have a secret to tell you” I yell, stumbling over to meet him halfway

“Closer, closer..... I’m so fucked up”

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[trivql]

Working Out with Tsukishima Kei

pairing | gn!reader x Tsukishima Kei

genre | fluff

warning(s) | like one curse word

word count | 526

a/n | can someone applaud me for writing this week please. this will also be available on my fan fiction instagram, @/k00bers

“We have to push through!” You yelled as the annoying fitness video you had been working out to for the last half hour was playing. The title was Full Body Fat Burn, and while the fitness Youtuber looked plenty energized--a neat ponytail, bright fitness gear--you and your boyfriend could not agree. Sure, while the man had built up muscles in his arms from years of hitting volleyballs, his stamina was a different story. Tsukishima was used to grueling long hours of volleyball practice, he just did not expect the workout to be as hard as it was because in his words, “It’s just some stupid Youtube workout.”

But even with that in mind, he was still pushing through with the ab section of the video, while you . . . well you had resorted to doing it half ass-ingly. Your body was dripping in sweat while your face was contorted in pain--and Tsukishima? He couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re the one that wanted to do this!” The blond said, trying to stifle his laughter. “Don’t give me that half-assery, y/n.”

“W-we got this,” You panted, struggling to get into the position as the Youtuber yelled out in a patronizing Australian accent, Now it’s time for leg drops! Your break is coming soon guys don’t give up!

Even though Tsukishima could feel his core ripping, he couldn’t help the smile that kept coming up on his face. You two were farthest from ‘cute’ at the moment--humidity and heavy breathing filled the room--but the volleyball player couldn’t help but think of how endearing it was that you were struggling so badly, yet trying your best to say encouraging words.

It was a bit amusing . . . and pitiful.

“S-stop looking at me like that i-idiot.” You could finally breathe; the break had just started. “Not all of us are professional sports people.”

“My core feels like it's about to die right now,” Tsukishima breathed. “Fuck you for choosing such a hard workout.”

“I didn’t even know it was going to be this hard!” You said halfway while trying to down your water bottle. “I--gulp--just heard of this lady okay!”

His commentary was short and sweet, but then you heard the dreaded three beeps and copyright free music start again.

You groaned and stood up from your sitting position. “That was the shortest 30 seconds of my life.”

“I’m never doing burpees again.” Tsukishima deadpanned, looking at you. “Holy shit you’re sweating balls-”

All right everybody, let's start with these burpees!

After making such a true yet hurtful comment, you kicked him down during his pushup.

“I didn’t even know I was sweating! Thank you for that one Tsukishima-kun!”

“Where would you be without me,” He said in a tiny voice, trying to get back into burpee position. “Let me pick tomorrow's workout. Please.”

It took you a good five seconds to commute what he was saying--your mind too focused on the burpees--but when you finally understood it, it took every ounce of pride in you to say;

“Fine.”

Tsukishima Kei, the man who played professional volleyball yet couldn’t stand a full workout, thought you had bestowed the words that would bring world peace.

[trashfor-imagines]

Loved your latest ushijima post!!! If it’s not too much trouble could I pls get an imagine where ushijima’s gf convinces him to finally get Snapchat and he starts off with random af snaps like “this cloud looks like a bunny” and THEN JUMPS TO SENDING PICS OF HIS ABS LIKE “can’t wait to see you later” 😩😩

Aaaa~ this is so cute I love it. Lets do this.

No Filter | Request

Ushijima x Reader

Warning: None.

Sitting on a park bench, you raised your long legs a bit to kick them back and forth as you scrolled through social media, enjoying an ice cream cone. It was Sunday and it was beautiful out. You tried convincing your gentle giant and his friends to come with you into town, but Ushijima shut it down quick, breaking Tendo’s spirit. Volleyball practice strikes again. Snapping a cute photo of yourself, you posted it on Snapchat in the Shiratorizawa VBC group with the caption: wish you were here, xoxo.

With a sigh, you finished up your cone, heading to the department store to buy Ushijima some new clothes. It didn’t take long for you to receive several replies of the guys taking photos of each other. You saved the one from Tendo. He’d taken a selfie with Ushijima in the background, wearing his classic muted expression. You texted Tendo.

(Y/N): Sa-Sa~~~ get my boyfriend to join snapchat! Tendo: What makes u think I can get him 2 join? (Y/N): B/c I believe in u~~~ uwu (Y/N): Besides, u got him to read shonen jump! U can do anything.

You didn’t hear back from him so you figured he was back to practicing.

After doing some damage at the stores, you finally headed back to campus with several bags in hand. You usually posted outfits you tried on and if enough people gave positive reviews, you bought it. It was a guilty pleasure of yours, but you loved getting couples outfits and taking photos of you and Ushijima wearing them, even managing a dedicated Instagram account. Being in your pictures was the closest your boyfriend got to being a part of social media.

Dropping off your bags at your dorm room, you headed to the gym to catch the end of practice. Goshiki was the first to spot you, waving in your direction. Waving back, you watched quietly, taking out your phone and posting videos of your boyfriend on Snapchat with a heart filter as he practiced his jump serves.

When practice was finished, you waited patiently for Ushijima who immediately approached you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before cleaning up the room and showering with the guys. You were in the midst of posting another selfie on Snapchat when Ushijima took your phone from you, putting it in his pocket. Pouting, you gently bumped your shoulder against his arm.

“Wakatoshi, give it back. I looked really cute in that one,” you whined.

He looked down at you and pulled you against his side, walking with you to your dorm. “You’re always cute. You don’t have to show everyone.”

“I know that you think that, but don’t other people deserve to see your cute girlfriend too?” Your pout seemed to be permanent.

“No.”

“Wakatoshi~ please get Snapchat. I’ll send you cute content all the time,” you tried to entice him.

“I’d rather see you in person.”

Skipping a few steps in front of him, you placed your hands against his chest, stopping him. Pressing your body against his, you let your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. You stood on the tips of your toes to press kisses along his jaw. “Anata *, I just miss you when you’re not around. If you had Snapchat, you could send me pictures of things you see or like, or what you’re doing. I’ll feel closer to you.”

He was silent for a while before sighing. “Tendo says it won’t clutter my camera roll.”

You tried to not seem so excited. “He’s right. It’s very clever.”

Resting his hands on your hips, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before handing you your phone back. “Fine.”

Your eyes lit up and you jumped up, pressing a kiss against his lips.

The next morning, you woke up and checked your notifications, smiling when you gained a new follower, the name making you smile: @ushiwakaa_. Laughing to yourself, you knew this was Tendo’s doing. You smiled as you opened one of his messages to you and your heart felt warm. He had taken a picture of the sunrise for you with the caption: You always sleep in.

You sent him a selfie in reply, smiling sleepily at the camera and showing off your tousled bedhead: Sleep in with me some time!

Quickly, you took your time getting ready for school, skipping breakfast to organize the clothes you had gotten Ushijima yesterday. You checked your phone during breaks between classes, enjoying the wholesome content your boyfriend was sending you. He sent you photos of:

a leaf on the sidewalk: no caption.

a snail that was next to the leaf: Slow.

the third years on the volleyball team at breakfast: They told me you would want photos of them.

the tree outside his classroom window: no caption.

a hair clip some girl in his class was wearing: Would you like something like this?

a smiley face he drew in his notebook: no caption.

a cloud he saw outside his classroom window: This cloud looks like a bunny.

the same cloud but at a different angle: Do you see it?

Laughing softly, you wondered how you got so lucky that you ended up with him. You didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought as class ended and it was lunch time. Getting your food, you walked over to the usual table of third year volleyball boys, sitting down across from Ushijima. He preferred sitting across from you; on your first lunch date he said it was so he could enjoy looking at you. He nodded at you from behind a bowl of rice, eating peacefully.

“I love your posts, Wakatoshi,” you commented, smiling brightly at him. 

He paused for moment in acknowledgement that you spoke, before returning to his meal. Giggling, you turned to Tendo to discuss the newest Shonen Jump, slipping off your shoe and gently running your socked foot up and down Ushijima’s calf, letting him know he was the one really on your mind. Despite how confident and strong he seemed, the VBC captain was just as capable of jealousy like any other mere mortal.

You were laughing at something Tendo said when you heard the sound of a phone snapping a picture. Looking over, you noticed Ushijima on his phone. “Wakatoshi, come on! I wasn’t ready. Let me see.”

He sent you a sharp look that told you to be patient, making you pout. There were some chimes around the table and you glanced at your phone, a notification reading that @ushiwakaa_ had just sent a snap. Quickly opening the app, you saw he had posted it in the VBC group. It was a photo of you and Tendo laughing, and surprisingly it was really good. Taking your phone, you sent him a private message: xoxo.

After school, you holed yourself up in the library, working on an essay for History. You scrolled through Ushijima’s stories: a photo of the empty gym, the huge basket of volleyballs, another photo of the gym. You took a photo of your study set up and posted it to your story: Wish me luck!

You then flipped to the front facing camera, taking a pouty selfie and sending it to your boyfriend: anata i wish you were here... uwu.

Sighing, you settled in and engrossed yourself in the the life story of Nobunaga. An hour and a half into your paper, you sighed in boredom, picking up your phone and procrastinating a bit. Checking your messages, you scrolled through your different feeds, mindlessly liking images that caught your eye.

A notification appeared, telling you your boyfriend had sent you something.

Opening Ushijima’s message, your face lit up brightly. It was a selfie of him, sweaty from his workout, winking at the camera with a smirk on his lips as he raised the front of his sweaty practice jersey, revealing his blessed physique. Biting your lip, you rubbed your thighs together, taking in every defined feature on his body, from his pecs down to his adonis belt: See you later.

Quickly packing your things, you headed straight to your dorm, knowing exactly what you were going to send back.

;)

- - -

*Anata is a very intimate term of address, like calling someone “baby” or “honey”, said by females to their male significant other or husband.

[kanerboo]

This isn't even really a prompt I just want you to think about Patrick somehow accidentally acquiring a VERY tiny baby kitten, freaking out and calling jonny over to help (because jonny always knows what to do) Only to see he's made a critical error when forced to witness jonny hold this absolutely TINY kitten in his stupidly large hands and hold it so carefully while it like curls up and naps just. In his hand. And lets out tiny purs. And Patrick has to act like he's fine and NOT in love at all

Oh god oh god anon this is just......... the cutest thing ever??

Also yes in my head Patrick doesn’t really like pets (because he’s prissy as fuck and likes his home neat and clean and fur-less) and has never intended to get one, but he stumbles across a tiny kitten one day by the side of the road. It’s tiny and it’s crying and it’s been raining so its ginger fur is soaked a dark, dirty orange, and - god, Patrick can’t just leave it by the road and drive on, he just can’t.

He manages to scrounge up a small towel in the glove compartment where he keeps spare ones in case he needs to wipe down his face and neck post workout or something, wraps the kitten in it, turns up the heating in his car, and drives home while placing a frantic call for help to Jonny.

Jonny arrives in like 40 minutes and somehow in that time he’s managed to get hold of kitten food, kitten formula and bottles for bottle feeding, a litter tray and litter, heating pads and blankets, and a collapsible kitten pen which he immediately unfolds in the middle of Patrick’s living room. The kitten pen is a bright turquoise colour which clashes terribly with all the wood finishings and cream and grey furniture in Patrick’s home.

“What is all this,” Patrick demands. He’s still holding the kitten, wrapped in the towel, keeping his hands around it to keep it warm like Jonny had told him to on the phone. At least it’s stopped crying and shivering.

Jonny stares at him. “Things the kitten needs,” he says slowly, like Patrick’s being an idiot.

“But - I thought you were just gonna come over and help me clean it up and take it to a vet?”

“And then what? Leave it at the vet or back by the road?”

Patrick opens his mouth to reply and then realises that - well, there’s really nothing he can say. He shuts his mouth again.

Fuck. He somehow has a fucking kitten. In his home.

“How’d you even know what to get?” he asks, getting up from the couch and making his way to where Jonny’s kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor, getting the pen set up. He plugs the heating pads in and slides them under the blankets he’s arranged in the pen. Great, now there are unsightly cords of black cable trailing across his living room floor. The kitten squirms a little as he walks, and he holds it against his chest, where it settles again.

For some reason, Jonny flushes.

“What?” Patrick says, insistent.

“Okay, well, there are a couple of people I follow on Instagram, okay, and they rescue kittens,” Jonny says. “And maybe i just - have watched a bunch of videos they posted, and maybe kind of know what kittens need. That’s it.”

There’s just - something about the thought of Jonny watching videos of kitten rescues and learning how to take care of a kitten, that’s making Patrick’s heart thump in a funny way against his ribcage. He holds the kitten tighter against his chest, trying not to think of Jonny - fuckin’ Jonathan Toews, Chicago Blackhawks captain, media darling, being a kitten rescuer on top of, well, everything he already is.

Jonny gets up off the floor, and holds his hands out. “Give me the kitten,” he says, and Patrick passes the small bundle over. “Did you warm more towels in the dryer like I asked you to?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says.

“Bring me one.”

“Say please,” Patrick says, but it’s only out of instinct; he’s already moving towards the kitchen, because when Jonny wants something, hell, he’s going to get it.

The towel is fluffy and warm when he retrieves it from the dryer; by the time he returns to Jonny, Jonny has the kitten unwrapped and cupped in his hands.

And - fuck, it really is tiny. It’s no more than a fragile, vulnerable wisp of orange fur curled in Jonny’s huge palm. If Jonny closed his hand into a fist it would wrap entirely around the kitten.

There’s so much strength and power in those hands, enough to crush the life from this kitten with no effort. And yet -

“There you go,” Jonny’s saying in a low, soft voice, as he takes the warm towel from Patrick and wraps it around the kitten. “Good boy, that’s it. Poor baby, you’re safe now.”

Fuck, fuck, Patrick just - can’t deal with this. It’s too much. He can’t stand here and look at Jonny standing in his home with his enormous hand around a sweet, tiny kitten. His heart is really ramping up with the funny somersaults in his chest now.

He just hopes Jonny’s too focused with staring at the kitten to notice how completely fucked up Patrick sometimes gets about him.

“Did you say - he’s a boy?” he manages to get out. His voice feels tight in his throat.

Jonny presses the kitten to his chest, right over where his heart is. “Yeah, I took a look. When we get him to a vet, they’ll confirm it.”

“I hope he feels better soon,” Patrick says. It sounds - stupid, but that’s all his brain can come up with, because Jonny’s destroyed it.

Jonny strokes a fingertip down the spine of the kitten. Now that it’s almost fully dry, its fur is wispy and soft, almost a halo around its little body. “He looks like you,” Jonny jokes. “Ginger.”

“Shut up,” Patrick says. “I’m not - it doesn’t -“

“Relax, Peeks, I’m just kidding,” Jonny says. He looks down at the kitten, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Oh, he’s purring. Come and feel.”

And Patrick somehow manages to make his way to stand in front of Jonny, so close they’re nearly chest to chest, but for the tiny kitten in between them. Patrick puts a tentative finger to the kitten, right next to where Jonny’s still slowly petting it, head to tail, over and over. Jonny’s finger strokes over his on each pass.

“Feel that?” Jonny asks. He looks at Patrick as he says it, and - yeah, fuck, there’s just no way Jonny is any good for Patrick’s heart.

The kitten’s tiny body vibrates under Patrick’s finger.

“Yes,” Patrick says quietly.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t.  The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest.  "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

 Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.”  I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway.  XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

 Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.”  Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?  I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What’s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you.  You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.”  I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

[clubdolan]

Military Brat -- G.D.

idk it was an idea and i couldn’t think of an ending but i wanted to get it typed up

Grayson stretched his neck out and looked at his alarm clock; 3:23 a.m. 

And no one was sleeping next to him.

“Bub, come on.. back to bed, you’ll wake up if he calls..” He grabbed her hand, trying to pull her from the couch. She sat in her pajamas, his clothes, phone in hand, zoned out at the television in front of her.

“Els, c’mon..” He tugged, forgetting the whole reason he was awake was to go to the bathroom. 

“He said yesterday or today, at his lunch time... which is eleven to one which is two to four in the morning here.” She gripped harder onto her phone, checking the screen for the thousandth time that night. “Thirty minutes.”

Grayson sighed, letting go of her hand, “Give me a minute.”

A few minutes later he was back with a bottle of water and a blanket from his bed. “Come on, lay down.”

“I can’t fall asleep.” Elsa groaned, checking her phone again. He pulled her back to his chest and the blanket over her lap, “Gray, I can’t.”

“I’ll stay awake, I’ll hold your phone, you need to go to sleep.” He pulled her head onto his chest and tried to grab her phone but she wouldn’t budge. He didn’t fight it, he just wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her tighter.

Elsa sat up quick, looking at her phone. “I missed it, I probably--

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” He rubbed her back, “I will wake you up if anything pops up on your phone, I promise.”

She leaned forward, her face in her hands, “He’s not gunna call.”

“He’s going to call, he still has ten or fifteen minutes.” 

Elsa held in her sobs, trying to hide her tears from him but he already knew she was crying. Her dad was an Army Major stationed in Germany and she hadn’t spoke to him in two months and hadn’t seen him for almost a year. Her mother had passed away from cancer two years ago and she followed her dreams and moved to LA to continue dancing, which led her to him.

She was a back-up dancer in music videos, at concerts, awards shows and more. Her Instagram had gained a following which led to modeling and sponsorships and now she was considered an ‘influencer’.

She kept her family life off of the internet. All that anyone knew was that her mom had passed from cancer. Of course Grayson knew every detail, every story she told him good or bad, every memory she could remember with her dad and mom in Germany when she was younger, at their first US house in Virginia, their second US house in Texas. He felt like he knew her whole family but in reality, he had never met them.

He continued rubbing her back until she turned around and dug her face into the blanket in his lap, crying harder. “Els, c’mon bub.” He pushed her hair from her face, “I know this has been planned for weeks, he hasn’t forgot. Maybe a meeting has gone too long and he’s taking a late lunch?”

“I don’t know.. I just wish I could text him.. or email him. Or he would let me know somehow.. I just wait and wait--

She went silent as her phone vibrated, a little tune playing from it, DAD going across the screen.

“Oh my god, hi dad.” She cried out, now tears of happiness were flowing. 

“Hi Elsie-bug, sorry it’s so late, a meeting went a little long...” Grayson heard a muffled voice and left her on the couch, pushing the blanket around her shoulders. “Fill me in on everything, I’ve got a while.”

Grayson fell back asleep, hearing her little laugh every now and then & as he woke back up at six, he was still alone in bed. 

Elsa sat on the couch, sun peeking through the windows, smiling down at her phone as she typed away. “Morning, Gray!” She spoke up, giving him a smile. “My dad has an email I can send things to right now, so I’m pretty much blowing up his inbox while he’s working, I don’t know when it’ll be shut down.”

“Breakfast?”

“Please.” She groaned, thinking of how empty her stomach was. With her head still down she followed Grayson into the kitchen, “Remember when we went to Universal and got stuck on The Mummy ride?” She laughed, attaching the picture to an email and typing a caption. “I just want to send him my whole camera roll.”

“Please don’t send him your whole camera roll or he will not let you date me.”

“He probably wouldn’t even let me have a phone.” They both laughed, “He doesn’t know if he will be able to come home in the next two months. It could be six months before he’s back.”

“That sucks, but at least you can email him now, keep in contact more often. Tell him how great I am before I eventually meet him someday.” He sat a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, “I will eventually meet him, right?”

“Of course.” She finally put her phone down and sat on the counter to eat breakfast. Grayson walked back and forth making a protein shake for him and a smoothie for her; both chocolate peanut butter.

“I’m going to go workout--

“I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re making me work out alone?” He groaned, “But.. fine.”

“Bring your sweaty, little body back to bed when you’re done.”

“I can’t believe you just called me little.” He walked towards her, standing between her legs. “My sweaty, little body.”

“Sweaty... little... body...” She poked at his chest, “The smallest I’ve ever seen. You say you drink protein? Do you even have leg day?” Grayson laughed as she pulled his shirt off of him, “You call that a six-pack?”

“It’s practically an eight pack” he leaned forward, pinning her between the coffee machine and himself. 

Elsa grabbed his arms, her nails scraping along the back, “Your arms are so small, do you work out or just sit on the floor in there? These are pitiful. I ca--”

“You can talk shit about my arms all you want but I know you can get off by just thinking about them, so I’d shut up if I were you.” He mumbled against her mouth, leaving a quick kiss before going to their gym.

Elsa kicked off her shorts and shirt, putting on the shirt she had just taken off Grayson as she buried herself in the sheets exactly where he had laid the night before.

@ElsaOwens: 6:45am = Perfect bed time.

---reply: No I wasn’t partying, I didn’t just get home, I finally got to talk to my dad after two months of waiting. #armybratproblems 

She didn’t even remember putting her phone down before she was woken up by a weight dropping down on her whole body. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the side of his head, “I’m still sleeping.”

“Do you want me to order you lunch with mine? Sushi.”

“My usual please.” She kissed the side of his head again before unwrapping her arms, expecting him to get up. 

“I’m tired.”

“Take a nap.” She tapped the top of his head, beginning to play with his hair.

“I want under the blanket.” He whined, standing up on his knees to push the whole blanket back before he dove back on top of her, shoving his head into her chest.

“You’re ... damp.”

“It’s my sweaty, little body.” He mimicked her, “Cardio and upper-body today.”

“Fuck-yeah upper body.” She rubbed her hands around on his stomach. 

“Ohh, fuck yeah upper body.” He made fun of her, pushing his shirt up her body, “Your naked.”

“I’m naked.” She giggled, watching him lay his head back down on her chest.

“I’m happy you got to talk to your dad today.” It was a cute moment, really it was. Elsa watched his eye lashes flutter close and she knew he really meant it. Her whole attitude had done a flip in the best way possible.

“You can’t get all touchy with me and then mention my dad.” Her finger trailed up and down his arm, leaving goosebumps along the way. “That’s like me teasing you and then mentioning Eth--

“Don’t fucking say his name.”

“---than.” She finished, pausing her finger. “Ruins it, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll still fuck the living day lights out of you. I don’t give a shit about my brother.” He mumbled into collar bone, “I hope he hears every second of it.”

“He left before you woke up. Surfing with Kyle or something?” She flinched as Gray bit into her skin, “Ugh, fuck, Gray.”

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

Grayson’s voice felt shaky and he wasn’t even talking. His phone screen was dark and he waited impatiently for it to light up, he didn’t have much time, Elsa would be home in almost an hour.

A foreign number popped up and with a shaky hand he slid the bar over and answered it, “Hello?”

“So you’re Grayson? The one my daughter won’t shut up about?” A man laughed on the other line, “It’s nice to... somewhat, meet you.”

“You too, sir.” Grayson had tried to prepare but he didn’t want Elsa to know her dad was calling him. He had snuck her phone, copied the address and sent a short email to him. Days later he was on the phone, soon talking to her dad like they were old friends.

“I’m exhausted.”

“You’ve been on the phone for thirty minutes, what’s that exhausting?” Ethan asked from the other couch, pulling his ear buds out.

“It was Elsa’s dad and I’m trying to plan a surprise for her to see him.” He sighed, “Well I think I just did plan a surprise for her to see him......” 

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

They came up with a fake video idea so them filming with Kyle didn’t seem suspicious. Elsa tagged along as they ran a few places just wasting time until her dad had landed.

“Els.”

“I’m not in this video, I’m not doing it...... what?” She asked, holding her own Target bag in hand walking to Ethan’s Jeep.

Grayson took the bag from her and put it in the car, “We just have to run and get Ricky at the airport, Kyle forget he said he’d pick him up.”

“Okay?” She looked at him funny, as if they needed her permission to go somewhere. “I’m literally just here to be here. I have no plans.”

Over an hour later they pulled into the airport parking lot and got out of the car, “Can’t he just walk--

“No we’re going in to get him, it’s a foreign flight and he’s got like three bags and we want to embarrass him with a sign.” He held his hand out and she grabbed onto it, pushing her sunglasses back to hold her messy ponytail in place. 

It took everything in him not to shake as they walked towards the airport. He knew Ethan and Kyle were behind them, filming, knowing exactly what was going on.

They all stood at the foreign arrivals gate, Ethan handed a rolled up poster to Elsa and had her hold it up to ‘see if it would fit in frame’. With a lousy smirk she held it up, watching him and Grayson keep backing up until it was all in frame. 

“Perfect! Now read the sign!” Grayson yelled, pointing down. 

Elsa was ready to read something dumb about Ricky, see an edited photo of him or some practical joke pulled on her but her eyes teared up as she read out loud, “I’ve waited a year to see my dad and I have no idea he’s right behind me.”

Her body froze and she dropped the sign and turned around. Her dad stood before her, Army fatigues and a bouquet of flowers.

The next few minutes was a whirl-wind. She hugged her dad for as long as possible, she cried the most she had in months, she didn’t even remember they were in airport or in public or that she was being filmed until her dad sat her down and said they could probably, “get going now.”

As she wiped her face off she saw Grayson standing next to her dad’s bags, holding her purse she had dropped on the floor with a little smirk on his face. “No way... no... you didn’t...”

“Nice to finally meet you, Grayson. In person.” Her dad stuck his hand out and Grayson shook it.

“In person.. so... wait, what?”

“I’ve talked to him a few times.. on the phone..” He acted cocky for keeping the secret. “Ethan and Kyle went to get the Jeep and your car is almost here. You’ve got dinner reservations with your dad.”

Elsa turned to look at her dad, back to Grayson then back to her dad, “All his idea.” Her dad said, looking at Grayson. 

“I can’t believe you.” She hugged him, starting to cry again. “I wanna be mad at you for not telling me but I can’t.”

He squeezed her tight, he felt her cry again, he felt her heart beating fast and could tell it meant everything to her. “He had a week off so we figured something out, you’ve got things all week to do with him.”

“With us, you’re coming with us, right Grayson?” Her dad spoke up.

Elsa nodded her head quickly, “Yes, he is. If he can. Can you?”

“I have a meeting one day but I can probably work the others out.” Elsa squeezed his arm and dug her head into his shoulder, “But dinner tonight is just you two. It’s already paid for. It’s your favorite place.”

They walked to the black SUV waiting outside and talked about the upcoming week, “It’s like two worlds colliding..” Elsa explained, “A good colliding.”

She kept her goodbye with Grayson short and sweet, her dad had never seen her with a boyfriend, let alone one she had been with for a while or one that went to this amount of planning to surprise her.

Grayson went to shake his hand but her dad hugged him, “Thank you, Grayson. For taking care of her.”

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

At midnight Elsa came running into Ethan and Grayson’s house as if someone was chasing her. “Where’s--

“He’s working out.” Ethan mumbled through a bite of food. 

She dropped her bag, shoes and whatever she could before rounding the corner and bursting into their workout room. Music was blaring and Grayson was laying on the ground, eyes squinted close as she silently counted sit-ups.

He almost started throwing punches when a body was on top of him, grabbing his face and straddling his chest. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“Holy shit, bub. I almost hit you.” He sighed in relief, relaxing his muscles as they fell to the floor. “I’m glad you were surprised, I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

“I had zero idea.”

“Good.” He laughed, “Why are you here so late? You have to be up early tomorrow to get--

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

“I didn’t want to sleep.”

“I just.”

“I wanted to come say thank you.” Her thumb brushed along his stubbly chin, “So, thank you.”

Grayson’s hands slid up her back and he pulled her down to meet him better, “You’re so very welcome.” 

Their lips pulled apart and she couldn’t stop looking at him. The love of her life, had taken his own time, his own money, to give her the best gift of all time. “I still can’t believe--

“Believe it.” He laughed, “None of this is fake.” 

Grayson groaned into her mouth as she kissed him again, sliding her body down his. “I know Ethan’s coming in here to run so please let’s go to my room or literally anywhere else but here.” He quickly said, sitting up with her on his lap. 

She didn’t answer, she kept kissing him and he kept kissing back. “You’re going to be mad....” He tried to talk, “If Ethan walks in here.”

“I don’t even care if my dad asks why I arrive to breakfast with you tomorrow or if I’m wearing your shirt as a dress, I’m staying here tonight.”

idk how to end this bye

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 35 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: I just...someone call the Pope.

“First class again?” Bee asked as she looked down at the boarding pass that had just printed out from the kiosk at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport.  She readjusted the Louis Vuitton tote bag on her shoulder – the same one that Lucy convinced her to buy all those months ago – and looked up at Morgan quickly.

“Did you expect anything less from me?” Morgan asked, looking down at her.  “I mean…really.”

Bee snorted as she took a closer look at the boarding pass in her hand, wondering if she got a window seat again or if she was in an aisle cubby.  As she looked at her seat number, a peculiar word caught her eye.  “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it printed out the wrong boarding pass for us.  We might have to go back up to that lady who took our luggage.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, his tone not phased at all by the apparent error.  Morgan flew all the time – this was probably a common error.  Did private team jets still print boarding passes?

“It says the destination is Kelowna instead of Vancouver,” Bee said.  

“That’s because the destination is Kelowna.”

For a moment, Bee couldn’t understand the words coming out of Morgan’s mouth.  She looked at him like he had three heads, trying to decipher the words.  “We…we’re going to Kelowna?” she asked.  He nodded.  “But…I thought we were going to Vancouver?”

“We are, silly.  I’m surprising you with a trip to the Okanagan Valley first, then we’re going to Vancouver,” Morgan was smirking at her.

“The Okanagan Valley?  You mean like B.C. wine country?”

“Precisely,” he leaned down to give her a quick kiss.  “Who would I be if I didn’t surprise you with something.  And don’t Morgan me.”

She sneered at him playfully.  “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure.”

“But you do…I mean…” she began, wondering if she should even say the words.  “You do know we could be staying in a Motel 6 and I’d be happy.”

“Briony,” he said her name in a half-amused, half-warning tone.  He leaned down to kiss her again before continuing.  “What’d I say about this stuff.”

“I know, but--”

“We are going to have,” kiss, “a very good time,” kiss, “going on winery tours,” kiss, “and watching the sunset,” kiss, “over the Okanagan,” kiss, “and then we’re gonna take a roadtrip,” kiss, “to Vancouver,” kiss, “and watch the sunrise,” kiss, “over the Sunshine Coast,” kiss, “just like last time,” kiss.  

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words.  She was also very conscious of the fact that he was kissing her multiple times in the middle of a busy airport.  She didn’t used to be that person, but Morgan brought it out of her.  She licked her lips and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him.  “You’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

“You get what you deserve, Bumblebee,” he winked.  “Now let’s go.”

***

When they touched down in Kelowna, they checked in at the Delta Grand Okanagan Resort on the waterfront and changed into workout gear.  Morgan wanted to take Bee hiking up the mountain to see the views, and she was more than ready to comply, despite the fact that she knew she was out of shape and would probably have to stop several times along the way up the mountain.  She knew the views would be worth it, and if she was a sucker for anything, it was views from mountaintops.  Considering she had never been to Kelowna, she thought it the perfect introduction.  

They began their hike at the base of Knox Mountain Park, following the trail diligently and making sure to stay on the designated path.  There were a lot of hikers out and about due to the beautiful day outside, so there were many quick greetings and many dog pets as they made their way up.  About half way up the hike, they happened upon a group of middle-aged people – Bee would say they were probably around Rocco and Clarette’s age – with four golden retrievers between them.  Morgan was in absolute heaven.  Everybody stopped so the dogs could be pet, and one of the men eventually recognized Morgan, so everyone posed for a group photo.  Bee was pulled into it for some reason.  The man’s wife was so excited that she pulled Bee in.  It was all very nice, but unnecessary for her to be there.  She could have at least taken the photo.  

When they got to the top of the mountain about twenty minutes later, Bee gasped.  There, before her eyes, was Okanagan Lake and the city of Kelowna spread out across the landscape.  Though she was out of breath, probably red, and definitely sweating, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sight before her.  The vast expanse before her was almost too much to handle; too beautiful to forget.  She focused hard, and long, creating a mental image in her head of the view so that she’d never forget it.  She didn’t want this memory to disappear.

It was only when she felt Morgan’s arm wrap around her waist that her trance sort of ended – even then, she couldn’t look at him, too transfixed on finding every little detail to remember.  The colour of the trees.  The sparkle of the water.  The deep blue of the sky.  “It’s beautiful, eh?” he asked softly.  

“Like…it’s not fair,” she said, causing Morgan to giggle slightly.  “I know I said this on the boat that morning in January but you’re so lucky that you got to grow up here.  Like, incredibly lucky.”

“I know, Bumblebee.  That’s why I want to bring you here all the time,” he admitted.  “I want you to love it as much as I do.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally looked up at him.  “I already do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Just by virtue of the fact that you grew up here.  Never mind the views and the scenery and the people – they’re extra.  I love it because you love it.  Because it’s your home.”

Morgan leaned down to kiss her, not caring about how many people were around possibly watching.  Sometimes, Bee had the simplest reasons for things, and for a guy who got stuck in his head too much and came up with overly complicated explanations for things some of the time, it was that simplicity that he needed.  I love it because it’s your home.  It was the simplest sentiment but one that brought out the best in Bee.  She didn’t need anything besides the ground beneath her feet and her favourite people by her side.  Everything else was extra.  “I love you, you know that?” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

He pinched her butt playfully.  “Smart ass.”

“Yeah, but you love my ass.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

***

So you’re finally working out.  About fucking time, fat ass.  

Surprised you’re not off fucking Fred or Tyler for your 15 minutes of fame.  But then again, who’d want to fuck someone as desperate as you?

Making Morgan spend money on you again…typical.  Bleeding him dry.  If you were smart you’d be with Auston bc he has way more money.

All the Toronto girls are talking about you behind your back.  I hope you know that.  You’re still the biggest social climber ever.  You think you’re hot shit but you’re not.  And just because your new BFF is Aryne, it doesn’t mean a thing.  Everybody can see right through you.  When Aryne and Morgan dump you, it’s over for you.  You’re already so irrelevant.

Why do u think u can wear tights like that omg u look like a complete whale!

Go drown urself in that lake bitch

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked as he crawled into bed beside Bee, snuggling up to her automatically as she lay in bed with a lace camisole pyjama set.  Bee had sent Angie a quick text to see how Bruce was doing, and Angie was supposed to have sent a video of Bruce back to them.  She and Mason were cat and house sitting the apartment while they were away.  

“It’s fine,” she sighed.  “Just reading the latest messages from my fan club.”

“Fan club?” Morgan asked.  When she gave him her phone and he saw the familiar layout of Instagram, he knew immediately what she was talking about and furrowed his brows.  

Ur soooooooo desperate for attention

U look like a cheap hooker…like not even an escort.  Ur so trash!!!!!

You should learn a thing or two from Lucy and her yoga business.  AKA stop leeching off your boyfriend!!!!!  You think you’re better than everyone else when you’re not.  SAD!

Morgan is stupid to be with you.  I don’t understand what he sees in trash like you.

“Bumblebee…you don’t…I can’t…” he couldn’t find the right words to say as he shook his head.  “I’ve gotta talk to Steve again…”

“He’s not coming back from Europe for you, Morgan.”

“Briony, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this,” he said sternly, unable to joke about this like she was.  “I know how much this affects you, baby.  And it’s not fair.  It’s not fair that they can say whatever they want to you and you have to refrain from saying anything back.  That you can’t…that you…” he trailed off.

“That I what?” she asked.  She was practically able to see the gears shifting in his head.  

“You can’t say anything about it…but what if I did?”

“NO,” she half-screamed, grabbing her phone out of his hand quickly before his thoughts got the best of him.  She sat up in the bed and he followed her, sitting up too.  “Morgan Frederick Rielly, NO.  Don’t you dare.  Don’t you – that would make it worse, Morgan.  That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with.  Could you imagine the media coverage on that?  Kyle would blow a gasket, let alone Steve.  Shanny might have a stroke.”

“But I want to keep you safe, Bumblebee.  I need to keep you safe,” he tried to reason with her.  

“Not at the expense of your good reputation with the team and in Toronto and definitely not at the expense of your career,” she said sternly.  “Morgan Frederick Rielly, don’t you even think about it.”

“But Briony--”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t understand how you can handle all this.  It’s all my fault,” he said.  

“It is most definitely not your fault.”

“I feel guilty every day, every fucking time I have to read one of those fucking messages or see you torn up about it.  Canada Day wrecked me.  To see you like that…Briony, I can’t.  How can you be so…how can you handle it?  How aren’t you scared ab--”

“Shhhhh…” she said quietly, bringing her finger up to his lips to quiet him.  “Because my love for you is greater than my fear of that.”

Morgan took a moment to internalize her words.  His chest was heaving slightly, he was a bit agitated, and his mind was set on doing something about it himself if he had to, but all he had to hear was her voice, her smooth, calming voice, and all those feelings washed away.  “You…”

“My love for you is greater than my fear of that, or them, or anything they say to me,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him.  “You need to start realizing that.  They can say whatever they want, and sometimes it might hurt me, and I might cry about it a little bit, but I’m stronger than that and I’ve been through way worse.”

Morgan sighed heavily.  “Bumblebee…”

“Shhhhh…” she shushed him again, her finger on his lips being replaced by her own lips.  “They’re all jealous.  That’s all it is.  Jealously.  Jealous that you’re mine and jealous that we’re building a life together.  Jealous that I get this giant hunk of man all to myself,” she whispered, kissing him again.  “Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to show this giant hunk of man how grateful I am for him and everything he does.”

“B-Bumblebee…” he mumbled out before she kissed him again.

“Quiet, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan did as he was told.  He began kissing her back, softly at first, then with a fervour he reserved only for her, that only she could bring out of him.  And when she began kissing along his jawline, climbing on top of his body simultaneously and rubbing her core on his thigh, all his thoughts dissipated completely, replaced with a hunger that he felt only for her.  He was insatiable for her.  He could never get enough of her.  He wanted her always, all the time, constantly, incessantly, persistently.  His body ached for hers.  It was crazy, he thought, how well they fit together.  How their bodies responded to one another instinctually.  He wouldn’t be able to find this with anyone else – couldn’t find this with anybody else.

Her took off her lace camisole easily.  With her breasts now exposed he took the opportunity to lean forward and take a nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing and biting down gently.  She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and cradled his head in her hands before tugging on the tufts of his hair gently.  She took his shirt off easily.  Over it went, across the room, and she moved down his body to slip his boxers off slowly.

“Briony…” he managed to mumble out as she stayed there, grabbing his already hard cock in her hands.

“Shhhh,” she shushed him for the umpteenth time that night.  She began stroking it and watched as he gulped.  “I got you, baby.”

“I d…I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he mumbled.  “Don’t – when I say--”

“Mmkay,” she said quickly, licking the tip of his cock.  “Just say the words,” she said in an almost playful tone before dipping down and taking him in her mouth.

He gathered some of her hair in his hand to get it out of her face; he didn’t want his view to be obstructed as she bobbed up and down, his cock disappearing inside her mouth further and further until he felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat.  He closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the feeling.  “Fuck, baby,” he sighed out.  

Bee let out a mischievous giggle, her fingernails digging lightly into his thigh.  “You like that, don’t you?” she asked as she scratched down slowly.  Morgan nodded his head desperately.  “You love it when I suck your cock.”

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.  “Fuuuck Briony, I love it when my cock is down your throat.”  He felt her dip down again, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking the pre-cum greedily.  “You better start touching yourself,” he told her.  

He watched as she slipped a hand down her body and underneath her shorts, wiggling out of them with ease.  By now, he was rock hard, and when Bee looked up at him with her big green eyes before she took him in her mouth all the way, hitting the back of her throat again, his hips buckled and he let out a loud groan.  She gagged slightly, his movements shoving his cock deeper into her throat, but when he looked at her again, she was already looking at him, a slight smile in her eyes that drove him fucking crazy.  “Briony…p-p-please--”

She ignored him, looking away and focusing on her movements instead, and the feeling of his hand tugging at her hair slightly so he could get a better look at her.  His grunts and movements gave her the confidence to keep going, to take risks and be as daring as she could.  It wasn’t long, though, before Morgan’s breath became heavier, his chest rising and falling with every gasp her took.  “B-Briony…”

She moaned on his cock in response, taking him to the back of her throat one more time before her mouth left his cock with a large pop.  “I want more of your cock, baby.  Just cu--”

“N-No,” he stuttered out.

“Babyyyyy,” she mewled, kissing the tip.

“No.  I want…I…get up here,” he huffed out.  

“Ba--” she tried again, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it.  His hand left her hair as he leaned forward, pulling her up and flipping her onto her back on the bed, his large body immediately over hers as he grabbed at her thighs and wrapped her legs around him.  He didn’t wait – there was no time to wait – and entered her quickly, the feeling of her warm walls around his cock causing him to moan out again.  

“Holy fuck Mo,” she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso so he stayed buried deep inside of her, not allowing him to move just yet.  “Fuck baby.”

“Who gets too fill you up, Briony?”

“You, baby.”

“Who?”

“You, Mr. Rielly.  Only you get to fill me up,” she pulled his head down to kiss him passionately, lips and tongues everywhere.  

Morgan bit down on her bottom lip, dragging it away with him as he straightened out his back and unwrapped her legs from his body.  He brought them both together, keeping them over his shoulder as he looked down at her, her body flush with desire.  “You okay?” he asked.  She nodded her head quickly.  “You want my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head.  

He began moving, slowly at first, her breasts bouncing along every time he thrust into her.  He would watch her breasts bouncing like that all night if he could.  He progressively kept getting rougher and rougher until he was pounding into her, her moans and cries fuel for him to give her more. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-Yes,” it was her turn to stutter out.  “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

He could feel the heat inside of him growing.  He grabbed at her legs that were over his shoulder and pushed them forward, into her body, changing the angle so he could go even deeper.  She let out a string of expletives at the new feeling, her cries out music to his ears.  “S’deep babe,” she could barely get the words out.

“You like that?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.  Yes.  I love it when you fuck my pussy hard like that.”

“Are you gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me, Briony?”

She could only nod her head as he continued to pound into her, fast and rough and wild, until he felt her walls clench around him and heard her scream out his name over and over again.  At the sound of his name escaping her lips so desperately and full of want, he exploded inside of her, leaning further into her so the angle was just right.  Bee huffed, trying to catch her breath.  

“Stay right there,” Morgan mumbled quickly.

“W…What?” she asked not understanding why he’d say such a thing.  Where the fuck was she going to go?

It didn’t take long for her to find out.  Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy quickly, causing her to gasp out, and they began moving quickly in and out of her, not allowing her to catch her breath or settle down from her first orgasm.  “Mo...” she gasped out, but instead of answering her he licked his way down her body.  He was being gentle but rough with his fingers, and she squirmed as she was pinned beneath him.  “Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo…” she kept repeating his name as he finally attached his mouth to her clit, lapping and sucking like he was drinking a thick milkshake.  “Mo, fuck, please.”

“All mine,” he mumbled against her pussy.  “All fucking mine.”

“All yours Mr. Rielly.  All yours,” she breathed out, grabbing hold of his hair.  Her body gyrated at the sensation and it was too much; in no time, she was cumming again, the sound of her wetness and Morgan’s fingers still moving in and out of her just amplifying it all.  He lapped up every last bit before moving back up, squishing her beneath his body as he kissed her.  

“I love you Briony,” he mumbled against her lips.  

She could taste her juices on his lips as she continued to kiss him.  “I love you too baby.  So much.”

***

“Wow, Ms. McTavish, you’re a natural!” Chef Michael smiled as Bee began basting the chicken breast cooking in the pan.  The chef looked over to Morgan, who had given up a long time ago and chose instead to just watch – Bee had no problem cooking his chicken breast too.  “You’re a lucky guy, eh?”

“The luckiest,” Morgan smiled as he watched Bee concentrating on the basting. 

“Does she cook a lot at home?”

Morgan nodded his head.  “My specialty is grilled cheese and breakfast for dinner.  She does everything else.”

Chef Michael focused his attention back to Bee.  “Alright Ms. McTavish, we need to let it simmer now.  Let’s focus on those broccolini sautéing with the garlic.  Think we should add more?”

“You can never have too much garlic.”

Chef Michael looked over at Morgan again.  “My kinda girl!”

“I learned some of my cooking skills from an Italian,” Bee continued, stirring up the broccolini.  “If a recipe called for two garlic cloves he’d put five.”

“Who are your friends?  Your family?  I need to meet these people!” Chef Michael exclaimed, so enthusiastic about everything.  “Let’s mince some more garlic in there.”

When all was said and done, Bee had perfectly prepared two plates of creamy chicken in a white wine sauce, roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, and sautéed garlic broccolini.  It smelled heavenly, and Morgan could tell she was so proud of herself as she fixed her plate with the last of the brocollini, Chef Michael instructing her on how to present everything beautifully.  When she finished, he presented them with a bottle of white wine from the winery to have with their meal, uncorking it and pouring it for them.  

“You two can bring your dinners out onto the patio with you.  Ray will come to clean up the pans and dishes while you eat,” he said.

Morgan nodded but Bee furrowed her brows.  “Oh, there’s no need for someone to clean up.  We can just do that after.”

Chef Michael paused his movements momentarily.  “No no Ms. McTavish, it’s fine.  Ray will be in any second with the busser to take everything away.”

“I insist--”

“No ma’am, it’s fine,” Chef Michael stressed.  “It’s part of the service.  You can just enjoy your meal on the patio.  You worked hard on it.”

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said gently.  “It’s alright.  We can go.”

She looked between Morgan and Chef Michael hesitantly before giving in.  “Okay.  Um, thank you,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked.  “Are you positive?  Because I can just wash everything after dinner.  It’s no big deal.”

Chef Michael let out a laugh.  “Go enjoy your meal Ms. McTavish.  And have a good night.”

Bee followed Morgan out onto the patio with her plate and wine glass, his own already on the table.  She looked back into the room as Morgan closed the sliding door, watching as Chef Michael gathered all the dirty cutlery and utensils and put them all in the sink.  She looked to Morgan, who had pulled out her chair for her.  “Does that usually happen?” she asked.

“Does what usually happen?”

“People cleaning up after you in these fancy shmancy places,” she clarified, setting her plate and wine down on the table.

“If you request for butler service, yes.  But we didn’t get that,” Morgan said, knowing that would be her next question; that she would give him one of her looks if he did.  “I think it’s just a part of the service they offer with the chef.  I think they figure you’d want to eat right after instead of clean up.”

“It’s a bit…I mean, I can clean up after myself.”

“Not everybody is responsible and sensible like you,” he leaned his head down to kiss her quickly.  “Now, let’s eat, shall we?  I want to have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend.”

Romantic it was.  Morgan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.  The scenery spread out before them was beautiful – just like everything else was in British Columbia – but he could only transfix his eyes on her, watching her as she ate and listening to anything she began talking about – how it was supposed to get cool that night, how Angie had sent her a new video of Bruce with the zoomies, how Mark had texted her that they had made record profits the past month for a particular client of theirs.  If her voice were the only thing he heard for the rest of his life, he’d still die a happy man.  

When they finished their meal, Bee stacked their plates on top of one another.  She brought them into the villa, setting them in the sink before popping her head out the sliding door.  “Is there a way you can call so they can come get these plates and not bother us for the rest of the night?” she asked.  “I don’t want anyone coming back in.  I just want to watch the sunset with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan nodded his head, getting up from his seat.  “I’ll call.”

“Good.  I’m going to the washroom,” she said, disappearing into the bedroom.  

After some time, Ray was back to collect their plates and ask if they wanted anything else taken care of the night.  Morgan declined, thanking him, and let him go for the night, making sure to lock the door behind him as Ray left.  He found it a bit peculiar that Bee was still in the washroom.  He hoped the food didn’t get to her; there’d be some strongly worded complaints if it did.  

“Bumblebee?  You alright in there?” he called out.  He glanced at the screen door quickly to see the sunset in full bloom.  

“I’m okay,” she said.  “Is Ray gone?”

“Ray’s gone,” Morgan confirmed.  “You feeling okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m feeling fine,” she responded, but he could tell her voice was a little off.  “Can you…um…can you make sure the door is locked?”

“Already is.”

“Okay.  Can you come into the bedroom?”

Morgan furrowed his brows.  “Of course,” he said.  “Are you sure you’re okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, still calling out from the closed washroom.  “Just…you know…get comfy.  Change into your pyjamas.  I’ll be out soon and we’ll go out and watch the sunset.”

Morgan did as she said, stripping himself down and changing into his pyjama bottoms.  He sat in the chair, folding the jeans he had been wearing, before the light in the bedroom mysteriously turned off.  He looked up, only the light from the sunset peeking through the window.  “Bumblebee?” he saw her stand outside the doorway to the washroom.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Good thing you’re already sitting in the chair.  Topless, even,” there was a slight laugh in her voice, not answering his question.  She turned on the lamp, illuminating the room romantically.  He noticed she was wearing a robe.  She never wore a robe at home.  

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes wide as he noticed it was a silk robe, lace trim dangling from the ends of sleeves.

Bee smiled shyly.  “Just a little something.”

“Just a little something, huh?” Morgan gave her an up-down, throwing his jeans onto the floor beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, playing with the tassels that tied the robe together.  “You know…I bet all that cooking must have taken a lot out of you,” she winked.

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle slightly.  “Oh, it did.  I am spent.”

“Well then.  Just sit back and let me give you a show,” she smiled devilishly.

“A show?” Morgan asked.  Bee nodded her head slightly.  “You…you planned something?”

“Is that okay?”

Morgan couldn’t help but let out a light laugh.  His body already felt on fire.  She had planned something – with that robe on, and whatever else was underneath it – and was asking if it was okay?  “Of course baby,” he said softly.  “Let me see.  Let me see what you’ve planned.”

Standing far away from him, she bent over and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his lips.  “I trust you.”

“And I trust you.  And I love you.”

“Good to know.  Because by the end of this I have every intention of you fucking me like you don’t.”

Morgan’s pupils dilated.  He gulped nervously.  He watched as Bee straightened herself out and took a few steps back, playing again with the tassels on the robe before she started to sway her hips slowly back and forth.  She worked on untying the tassels slowly, achingly so, and Morgan could feel himself getting hard with each passing hip sway.  Eventually, she pulled, untying the bow and letting it fall, the robe becoming looser.  A hint of pink lace peeked its way out of the robe.

“Briony…” Morgan barely made out her name.

“Yeah baby?” she asked in an innocent voice, her fingertips gliding along the edge of the fabric near her chest.

“What…what did you--”

“Shhhh baby,” she cooed, approaching him slowly, seductively.  “What did I tell you?”

“But baby--” he tried reaching out to grab the fabric of the robe.

She smacked his hand away quickly.  He looked at her in the eye, shocked.  “Don’t touch me,” she ordered.  “Don’t touch me unless I tell you.  Just watch.”

She saw his chest rise and fall dramatically.  “Briony--” he tried to grab at her again.  

“Don’t.  Touch.  Me,” she stressed, smacking his hand away once more.  “Unless you want me to stop.  Then you’ll have to take care of that,” she eyed down to the growing bulge in his pants, “all alone.”

There was a fire in her eyes and Morgan knew she meant it.  This was completely new – he was completely blind-sided – but he wasn’t exactly complaining.  He loved seeing this sort of confidence from Bee.  He thought it partly cute, partly evil that she had planned this – masterminded it from the beginning.  He nodded his head, agreeing with her.  He couldn’t formulate a word.  There was no point.

She took a couple of small steps back – far enough so Morgan couldn’t reach out, and far enough so he could get a full body view – and started to pull the robe down her shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor dramatically revealing, inch by inch, the blush pink floral lace bralette and garter set, complete with a matching pair of pantyhose.  

“Oh my fucking God,” Morgan mumbled in disbelief.

A smile adorned Bee’s face.  “Do you like, Mr. Rielly?”

Morgan nodded, beginning to feel an uncomfortable strain in his pants.  “Yes,” he nodded his head almost desperately.  “Yes.  Yes.  I love it,” he was a gibbering mess.  

“D’you like the colour?”

“Yes.”

“And the lace?”

“Yes.”

“What about the garter?  And the pantyhose?”

“I love it all,” the desperation was evident in his voice.  “I love it all.  Every fucking piece of it.”

“Good,” she bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the lace of the thong that hung on her hips.  She took a step towards him.  “So if I came closer…” another step, “and closer,” another step, “and closer,” one final step, “you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Morgan huffed out a breath.  “I don’t…”

“If I put my hand on your chest…” she moved to do exactly that, walking to his side.  His head followed her as far as it could until she was behind him.  “If my breath grazed the back of your neck…” she moved, again, to do exactly that as she stood behind him, her hand still on his chest as she gave the skin on his neck a quick kiss.  She took a few steps so she was standing in front of him again, turning away so her back was towards him, her ass in full view.  “If I sat in your lap, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer.  She lowered herself onto his lap, swaying her hips back and forth for good measure.  She heard Morgan grunt as she did so, absolutely fucking loving that she was getting such a reaction out of him.  She felt powerful.  Sexy.  Sensual.  She could feel the erection already in his pants and it made her the most confident she’d ever been.

“Fucking hell, Briony,” Morgan whispered.  Like clockwork, it didn’t take long for her to feel his hand on her ass, even if it was just a quick caress.  

She rose up quickly and slapped his hand away for a third time.  He whined out in protest as she walked away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look at him.  “No.  Touching.”

“But Briony--”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“NO!  No no no,” he shook his head.  “Please God no.”

“No more touching.  Do you understand me?” she said, her voice seductive but stern.  “No.  More.  Touching.”

“I won’t.  I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise.  I promise you,” he was desperate, so desperate.  “I swear to you, I won’t touch you.  Fuck Briony, fuuuuck, I w…I won’t touch you.  Not unless you tell me.  Just get back here.”

“Not until you beg.”

Morgan whined out again.  “Briony.  Briony please.”

“Beg.”

Morgan could swear there were tears forming in his eyes.  “Please Briony, I promise.  I’m begging you.  Come back here so I can look at you.  Please.  Please.”

Briony smiled, biting down on her bottom lip again.  “If you touch me without my permission again it’s over.  Keep your hands to yourself.”

Morgan nodded his head.  “I will.  I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.  Now please.  Please come back here.”

Bee sauntered over to him, bending over so her breasts, covered by the delicate lace, were right in his face.  She leaned forward so the material gently grazed against his nose and lips.  “Lace is your favourite, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.  Morgan nodded his head.  “You always go crazy for me in lace.”

“You look perfect in it,” his voice was low.  “You make it look perfect.  Every time.”

She straightened out briefly so she could turn around again, her ass facing him as she sat down on his lap.  “You love spanking me too, don’t you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath.  “Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.

She looked over to see his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles almost completely white.  Excellent.  “Especially when I’ve been a good girl?”

“I…y…yes,” he huffed out, stuttering again.  She watched as his hands shook through the grip he had on the armrests.

“Am I being a good girl right now?” she asked, grinding down against him gently.  

“I’d reckon you’re being a bad girl right now.”

Bee let out a giggle, looking at him over her shoulder.  “Is that so?”

“You’re being a very bad girl teasing me like this,” he reasoned.

“Whoops,” she rolled her eyes playfully at his answer.  “Sorry not sorry.”

“Briony, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you,” he begged.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

“Wh – I – please,” he continued to beg.  “You don’t understand, Briony.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head.  She stood up again to face him, placing her hands on his chest.  His eyes were pleading with her, but she didn’t budge.  “What do you think of the garter and pantyhose?” she asked again, just to torture him.

“I love it.  I love it all,” he said.  “It looks so, so sexy.  It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Her hands made their way down his chest and over his bulge, settling on his knees as she shifted her weight from one leg to another again and again before flipping her hair in front of him dramatically.  She promised him she’d give him a show, so she was going to give him a show.  She incorporated her movements into pulling his pants off of him, revealing how rock hard he was.  After scratching her nails up and down his thighs, she settled them on his knees once more before spreading his legs open dramatically.  Morgan looked at her wide-eyed before she squatted down between his legs, her hips swaying from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ Briony,” his voice was frantic as she spun around on her tiptoes, still squatted, before swaying her hips back up into his face.  “Briony.”

“You like that?” she ignored his pleading tone, knowing all he wanted was to touch her.

“Yes.  Please Briony, can I t--”

“What about when I do this,” she said, spinning around to face him before climbing on to his lap.  She flipped her hair in his face again, and began to grind down.  His hands left the armrest dramatically, ready to grab her, but with every ounce of will he had left in – which wasn’t much – he balled his hands into fists and kept them away from her.  She shoved her chest into his face, her hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Briony – you fucking – you don’t – you can’t--” he muttered out.

“You want to fuck me with this on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to take it off?”

“No.  Keep it on.  Keep it all on.  I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he told her as she grinded down on him again, his cock rubbing up against the fabric of her thong.

She smiled.  “That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Rielly.”

“Can I touch you?  Please?”

“No.”

“Briiiiiiony.”

“Not.  Yet,” she said, arching her back.  “Tell me something Morgan,” she began.  He gave her cut eye.  Her right hand slipped down between their bodies to her hot core.  “Do you like it when I touch myself?”

Morgan huffed.  “I like it when I touch you better.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how to make you feel good,” he said.  “Because I like making you feel good.”

“And when you get to touch me, what are you going to do to me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She smiled.  She grabbed his cock without warning and began to stroke it teasingly.  She felt his hips buckle at her touch and knew she had teased and agonized him long enough.  She grinded down on his lap one last time, for good measure, feeling just how hard his cock was.  “Morgan?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes Briony?”

“Make me be your good girl.  Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Morgan was like a man possessed.  In what felt like less than a second he grabbed her, picked her up, and threw her on the bed.  He climbed onto the bed after her and flipped her over so she was flat onto her stomach, her legs spread apart for him but her ass slightly raised.  She arched her neck to look behind her and saw him hovering over her.  “You think you can play games like that with me and get away with it?” he asked her, his voice low and coarse and his hands went to the small of her back, pressing down so she stayed laying flat on the bed.

“You liked it, didn’t you Mr. Rielly?” she asked, her voice playfully innocent in tone.  “You kept telling me how much you liked it.  You begged to keep me close.”

He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear.  “Now I’m gonna make you beg,” he said, watching as her lips curved into a smile.  

“Like your good girl?”

“Like my good girl,” he nodded his head.  “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“You can’t cum until I say so.  Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head, feeling his body loom over hers.  He was still holding her down so she could barely move.  “Mr. Rielly, if I be a good girl will you spank me?”

Morgan laughed mischievously.  “We’ll see about that.  Maybe if you ask nicely,” he said.  

Without warning, he entered her hard and quick, unable to wait any longer.  Bee cried out automatically at the feeling – everything from the speed, to the size of his cock, to his holding her down, to the angle that he entered her, made him go so deep that she swore she could already see stars.  He didn’t start slow either; he was desperate and needy and didn’t have time for any of that, so he rocked into her hard and fast.  She screamed out in pleasure over and over again, savouring the feeling.  He was being a bit rougher with her than normal, but she loved every second of it.  She wanted it.  She had asked for it, and he had complied.  He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do, and they had the trust in each other to do this.

The way he was holding her lower back down, keeping her in place, meant the angle was deep – and with the force he kept pounding into her with, she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long.  But just as he complied – as best he could, he did slip up twice – to her rule of ‘no touching’, she knew she would have to comply to his rules now too.   “Mr. Rielly,” she said between her screams and moans, “Mr. Rielly it’s so deep.”

“You like it when it’s deep like that, huh?” he asked.

“Your cock is so big and it always goes so deep,” she said, knowing it would stroke his ego.  “Can you spank me, please?”

She heard Morgan huff out a laugh, barely missing a beat as he continued to fuck her.  “No.”

“But Mr. Rielly--”

“No.”

“Please Mr. Rielly, I want to be spanked so bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he threw her own words back at her.  She almost regretted the decision to use that language when she was teasing him – almost.  But there was no way she could ever regret anything that brought her so much pleasure.  “You have to beg, remember?”

Morgan could hear her whimper.  “Pleeeease Mr. Rielly.  Please spank me.”

She felt one of his hands leave the grip he had on her lower back and she prepared herself.  Instead, she felt him grab her hair and tug her towards him, so her back was flush against his chest momentarily.  His hand snaked around and went to her clit, and he bit down on the skin of her neck before moving up to her ear.  “Beg.”

“Please Mr. Rielly,” she was practically on the verge of tears.  “Please please please, I’m begging you to spank me.”

“If I spank you are you gonna cum?”

“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head slightly.  “Not until you tell me to.”

He smiled, a throaty laugh escaping him.  “That’s right.  That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pushing her back down so she was flush against the bed again.  With one hand on her lower back holding her down, the other hand spanked her ass.  She let out a cry of pleasure, and with another spank, another cry.

“Harder,” she mewled out

“Harder?”

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Rielly.  Spank me harder.”

Her spanked her again, red marks already appearing on her ass from before.  He rubbed the area gently before spanking it one more time.  “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide how close she was.  “I want to cum so bad.”

“If I spank you again will you cum?” he asked.  Bee nodded her head.  “Then no.”

“No, please,” Bee cried out.  “I can’t – I won’t--”

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” he practically growled out, holding her down again with both hands now.  

Bee didn’t answer automatically this time.  She was trying to regain composure, trying to regain whatever semblance of sanity she had left in her body.  “Y-Yes…” she whispered, barely audible.

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” Morgan asked, louder to insinuate how loud he wanted her to be.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

“Like my good girl?”

“Yes!” she screamed out.  “Like your good girl.  Always your good girl, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued pounding into her for a while, even harder than before.  Bee’s cries became louder, as did the sound of cock throbbing in and out of her hot core.  With the prelude leading up to this, the dirty talk, the sound of Bee’s moans and cries, and the fact that he probably could have cum while sitting in that God forsaken chair if Bee had grinded down on him just one more time, he was surprised to have lasted this long anyway.  He could feel his body getting flushed and hot and knew he was close.

“Are you ready for my cum, Briony?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Rielly,” her voice was coarse from all the noise she was making.  “I’m always ready for your cum.  Always.”

He spanked her again a few more times for good measure, getting some more desperate cries out of her, before tugging her hair one last time to bring her back against his chest.  “You’ve been such a good girl,” he cooed as he gave her a sloppy kiss.

“I love it when it’s like this,” she managed to get out through hooded eyes and desperate whispers.  “I love it when I’m your good girl.  When you take me from behind.  When you fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

“You like me fucking you hard and fast?”

She nodded her head.  “I love it so much Mr. Rielly.”

He snaked a hand around her body and began rubbing circles on her clit.  “You ready to cum, Briony?”

“Yes.  Fuck, yes.  Please.”

“When I spank you I want you to cum,” he instructed her.  “And I don’t want you to stop.  Understood?”

“Yes.  Yes yes yes yes,” she said in hushed whispers.  

Bee waited a few moments, and when she didn’t feel the hard smack on her ass she whined.  She waited for another few moments – and still nothing.  She was desperate.  She was going to kill him.  She was going to cum any second.  “Mr. Ri--”

Smack!

She cried out, loud, her orgasm pulsating through her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.  Morgan continued to pound in and out of her with his throbbing cock, while his hand continued to rub at her clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm, over stimulating her just how she liked it.  After what felt like a million of them – a million different orgasms, a million different cries, a million different moans and desperate shouts of his name – she finally, finally, felt his hot cum pour into her, filling her up as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her.  She felt his body shake against hers, his own moans and desperate calls out of her name filling the air as they rode out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another.

Bee swore she could still feel an orgasm ride through her entire body as he pulled out, the both of them collapsing on the bed trying to catch their breath.  Her core was still so hot and sensitive as she curled up in Morgan’s arms, both their bodies hot and glistening with sweat.  She was surprised the lingerie made it through – that Morgan didn’t rip it off half way through or take it off with his teeth or something.  She was glad it got this reaction out of him.

“Bumblebee…” she heard Morgan’s voice, barely above a whisper.  “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else but you.”

She smiled, curling further into his body.  “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else either,” she responded, reaching down below their bodies to grab hold of his cock.  “Thank you for indulging me.  For giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, feeling her put his softening cock at her core again, the heat still so comforting.  “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

***

Bee was a bit sad to leave Kelowna and the Okanagan area, after having experienced its beauty, great weather, and lovely people, but she had to remember she had Connor, Andy, and Shirley Rielly waiting for her on the other side, eagerly anticipating her presence in Vancouver for the second time that year.  Earlier that morning, she and Morgan had checked out of Hester Creek Winery, where they had been staying for the past three nights, and loaded everything into their rental car for their five hour road trip to Vancouver.  After a last minute stock up of the wine from the winery, and a very last minute stop at Tim Horton’s for some coffee and snacks to sustain themselves (like good Canadians) they were on their way, the GPS system directing them where to go.

“You tell me anytime you want to stop to take pictures,” Morgan said as they took the on-ramp onto the highway.  “It’s going to be a pretty scenic route.  Especially when we drive through the provincial park.”

“I will,” Bee smiled, stuffing a Timbit into her mouth before feeing Morgan one.  “I’ll try not to stop too much.  I don’t want this trip to take eight hours.”

“Nuh uh,” Morgan shook his head.  “You just tell me whenever you want to stop.  We can take ten hours.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Your parents are expecting us for dinner.”

“We’ll call them and tell them there’s traffic,” he said, his mouth still full with the Timbit.  He winked at Bee as she gave him one of her looks.

Morgan reached over the console and grabbed her thigh, exposed thanks to the pretty sundress she was wearing, squeezing it gently as the road opened before them.  It was there for a while, as they continued to drive on the open road, occasionally squeezing and massaging her skin before it crept higher and higher, getting dangerously close to her core.

“Keep your eyes on the road, you perv,” Bee placed her hand above Morgan’s to stop it from going any higher.  If it did, she knew he’d probably swerve off the road.

“I am keeping my eyes on the road,” he reasoned.  “My mind, on the other hand, isn’t on the road.”

Bee snorted, shaking her head playfully.  “You want to fuck me in this rental car, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She couldn’t help but snort.  At least he was being honest.  “Why’re you so horny all the time?” she giggled.

“You make me.”

“If you keep it up we’re gonna end up having ten kids.”

There was a silence between the two.  It wasn’t awkward, or charged, or because either was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say.  It was just…a silence.  A comfortable silence, the road of the car on the road filling the void, until Morgan spoke first.  “We’re not having ten kids.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile.  “No.  Definitely not.  I’m not doing that to my vagina.  We’re not the Duggars.”

“Two or three is good,” he said.

Bee nodded her head in agreement.  “Two or three.  One of each.  Whatever happens first.”

Morgan took his eyes off the road to look at her.  She noticed his smile.  How he was looking at her; like he’d just laid eyes on the image of perfection.  “Yeah.  You…you’ve thought about it, then?”

Bee nodded her head.  If she thought about the wedding, and establishing a life together, there was no way she didn’t think about kids either.  “Of course.  You know I want kids.”

“I know.  But like…”

“I want kids with you, if that was going to be your next question,” she said.  “I mean, there’s no question.  It’s you.  I’m not having anybody else’s kids.  I’m having your kids,” she stressed.  

“Okay,” he said, unable to contain the smile on his face.  “I uh…yeah.  Okay.”

“Tongue tied, are we?”

“No,” he kept trying to contain his smile.  “Not at all.  Just glad you’ve thought about it too.  That’s all.”

“I know…I know you’ve always initiated these conversations in the past,” she said, thinking out loud at this point.  “Whether drunk or tipsy or not.  But I think about this stuff do.  I do love you more than I can describe with words.  I just…I think because of my background, because what I’ve been through, I’m a bit less open about it.  Because my mom never wanted to hear it when I was a young kid, and because I never really loved her later on growing up.  But I do love you.  And like…I want everything with you.  A life.  A house.  Children.  I may not vocalize it, but I do.  And I don’t picture myself having all those things with anybody else.  I only want it with you.”

Morgan flipped his hand so he could hold hers and bring it across to his lips so he could kiss it and hold it across his chest.  “I only want it with you too,” he said, his lips rubbing against her hand.  “I’ve only ever wanted it with you.  And I want to give you all that.”

“I want to give it to you too.  This is a relationship.  A partnership.  We can give each other these things,” Bee clarified.

“Yeah.  You’re right.  That’s what I meant,” he nodded his head again, correcting himself.  “We can give each other these things.  A life.  A house.  Children.  But not for a while – children, anyway.  We…we’re already building a life together.”

“We are.”

“Everything else will come in time,” Morgan said confidently.  “I’m just…I know I’ve told you this before, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that it’s you in this life with me.”

Bee smiled again, unable to keep her eyes off of him.  “And I thank my lucky stars you sent a mojito to my table.”

[wiinterrose]

          ( xavier serrano , cis male , he / him, 23 ) no way ! i swear i saw 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 walking down danforth avenue ! i just saw a post about them on 6secrets ! i think it said something like “𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝟓 𝐀𝐌 : 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?”. isn’t that wild ? i guess that makes sense since they’re apparently 𝐃𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒 and 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. fans will claim that they’re 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 and 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂.  i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑. whenever i think of them, i think of 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒, 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. i wish i would have asked for an autograph ! ( oliver, they / them, 22, est ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— mikey was born and raised in winnipeg because i think it’s funny when characters are from winnipeg. if you’re from winnipeg i’m so sorry. definitely was born on the coldest day of that year ( so like some point in january )

— but because of those long, cold harsh winters, mikey found himself in a dance studio a lot. his aunt was a dance teacher and with rather absent parents who meant well but both had long hours at the local hospital, he spent a lot of time with her. he fell in love with dance pretty early on, always having a certain fluidity and grace even when he was young.

— random but he also played hockey up until he was like 16 or whatever because he’s canadian and i’m not stupid. it happened. he can still skate tho. in a slightly different life he probably would have been a pretty good figure skater huh 🤔🤔🤔 but anyway...

— also feel like it makes sense that he did gymnastics. and trained in classical ballet.

— he went to university of toronto for college, studying kinesology and dance, and danced at one of the prestigious studios in the city.

— his big break moment was when in his sophomore year at ut, he made it onto the second season of world of dance in early 2017 ( lets pretend that show has been on longer than it has bc i don’t want it to be the first season of it sldk ). he made it all the way to the finals and quickly become a fan favorite along the way. though he ultimately placed second and missed out on the million dollars, that was the beginning of many doors opening for him. ( for those who, might have the vaguest clue what i’m talking about : i’m highkey feeling like, michael dameski style which is an idea i had after i named him michael so don’t @ me for him having the same first name ).

— millions watched that show, including some prominent agents and scouts who were able to help him launch a professional dance career : something he never thought he’d see himself actually doing. his first big gig was making the dance team for some singer’s north american tour, and he ended up not returning to ut to pursue a professional dance career full time. since then he’s danced in a few music videos for some uber famous musican ( same one he went on tour with or not idk ?? also a wc ?? maybe ?? ), a tv show, couple movies, and other various gigs around the city. he works part time at a studio when he has time, and has been honing his choreography skills as well.

— he makes enough dancing, but certainly not enough to make him RICH. no, that come from an impromptu vlog he did while on tour with aforementioned singer. having already garnered a following from world of dance, he soon rose to youtube fame as well, something he never could have predicted. i feel like his videos are very just, day in a life with various random athletic challenges mixed in, and various workout and flexibility tips. he also still does pieces and duets with other prominent dancers just for fun too. his natural charisma and attitude really just carries him through easily lmao.

— mikey developed a bit of a habit of sleeping around when he left for college, all the newfound freedom was just intoxicating and well. he was hot so. it wasn’t like it was hard alsdkjf. that stuck around well into his blossoming dance career. nothing that was enough to be scandalous, but he made his way around. and then a year and a half into this unforeseen new life, he met matthew glass.

— he’d had a couple serious relationships before, one in high school, one his freshman year of college but neither of them could hold a flame to what he felt when he was with matt. perfection wasn’t something mikey believed in, but he almost did with what they had.

— it was like for over a year and a half he lived in this insane dream, and then mikey and matt broke up and he was devastated ( behind closed doors and with curtains pulled tightly shut ).

— he then proceeded to broadcast how perfectly fine he was doing by going back to his old ways and sleeping around obsessively, this time with very little regard as to how many headlines he was making. as far as coping mechanisms go, i guess sex is better than alcohol ?? not to say he wasn’t also drunk at times l o l.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— mikey gets around. has definitely been trying to forget matty with other warm bodies but honestly it’s not working

— very bi. very much does not care. if the world didn’t know he was before, it definitely does now lmao. he hasn’t come out in the sense he’s like posted a video about it and said “i’m bisexual” but it’s pretty obvious from the media and maybe he has gotten asked in interviews and has just shrugged and been like does it matter ?? i’m sorry he’s not the vocal bi ally we need. perhaps we will work on that.

— hasn’t dated anyone since matt bc he’s highkey lowkey still hung up on him but no one needs to know that right. outwardly, he’s very much the same : seemingly happy, but he’s a lot more careful with his heart and letting people close to him. if anything he’s become a bit of a two-way mirror, always seeing out but never really letting people see in, just what they want to see.

— probably goes without saying but extremely flexible. idk if any of you know who juuse saros is but apparently he can twerk in a split and i’m not saying mikey can but like. he just might be able to...

— straight up does not get cold. never wears more than a hoodie, probably danced shirtless in the middle of winter just fine. at least being from winnipeg is good for one ( 1 ) thing.

— i feel like people call him flower. idk guys. maybe im just thinking too much abt hockey goalies.

— always posting on instagram stories. u kno the type.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

— he tends to be extremely underestimated as he comes across a bit dumb and generally has a pretty positive outlook on life which people confuse for him being naive when that isn’t the case. but he’s found he can use that it his advantage and that sometimes, people will tell him things they think he can’t understand but he hears and remembers everything. it’s helped him out of a few difficult situations before.

— i feel like he has a bit of ethan dolan’s personality & dumbass energy idk guys...

— live in the moment kind of dude. his motto is probably like : you just gotta know what you want to do next. i mean looking back on his life it’s been pretty crazy and that’s only solidified his outlook that like, you really can’t control too much. just let it go where it takes you.

— people do like him though and they like talking to him for whatever reason. generally has pretty trustworthy vibes but he’s more slippery than he comes across. he’s a selfish person at heart and always has his own best interests in mind, even if it doesn’t seem that way at first.

— extroverted. i think ??

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

— 6′1″. chocolate brown eyes. curly brown hair. he has a lithe but extremely fit build due to his career. his core strength is especially impressive.

— he has a monochromatic lineart tattoo of a rose on his left forearm / wrist and a butterfly ( again monochromatic & just lineart ) on his right shoulder. small scar at the base of his neck by his ear from an unfortunate hockey accident.

— needs glasses but usually only wears contacts unless he’s in his apartment late at night.

— he’s not overly fashionable, going more for comfort than how he generally looks. on a regular day, he’s probably got the whole... college athlete look going if you know what i mean. a big fan of mirrored aviator sunglasses. wouldn’t know what dressing up meant even if it slapped him in the face.

— PINTEREST BOARD

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

first and foremost i want to say that i like to vibe and brainstorm with people to come up with unique connections between our characters but here are a few ideas :

— ( f ) a close friend he has had on his channel a few times and fans passionately ship them but they’re really just good friends. maybe they play into the drama a few times as well tho. — the singer whose tour he danced on — singer whose music videos he’s been in — mayhaps even actors for that tv show / movie he was in ( v small role but whatevs. maybe they just Vibed yknow ) — flirtationship 😔 — always ye ol good hookup l o l — we keep running into each other idk maybe we should talk ??

TAKEN CONNECTIONS PAGE HERE

𝐎𝐎𝐂

         hey guys, i’m ollie. my intros are either written really eloquently or a big mess bc im trying to rub together a couple braincells at 1 am and whatever comes out, comes out. no need to guess which category this one falls into lmAO. anyway, i’m a slow plotter bc i’m easily overwhelmed trying to do too many things at once but i swear i will try to get to as many people as i can. and yeah this entire character is inspired by my love of world of dance don’t @ me... if u made it all the way down here u should watch this bc 😳 & mikey has the same athleticism and strength.