My You-niverse: Marc

Half of You (Chapter 3) [Santiago Garcia x fem!Reader]

CH. 1 CH. 2

Summary: What's a romcom without a little tragic backstory, huh? Tragic backstory and muffins.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mentions of death, mourning, talk of pregnancy.

A/N: I want to thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and tags on the previous chapters of this story, it means the world to me 💚 This is going to be kind of a slow burn, mmmkay? I want Vin and Santi to simmer good and long before we add the spice because we want that payoff to be delicious. Enjoy!

You don’t knock when entering Santiago’s home anymore, not in the mornings, at least. You know you’d never catch him in a compromising position in his kitchen or living room, especially not at 9am. He is military clockwork. The ISS could set its time to Santiago’s morning routine. He’s up at 6 every day for a weighted vest run. Sometimes, when you’re up at that hour and just laying in bed, you see him jog past your window at 6:04 and always back at his front porch again by 7:00. 

For the past two years, with almost no exceptions, you’ve been getting up every morning, making some kind of breakfast, and bringing it over at 9, or around nine. You’re not as punctual as Santi and sometimes the muffins or breakfast bars or whatever you make aren’t ready on the dot like his routine, but he never complains.

It wasn’t really like you were doing this for Santi, this was a structure for you. This routine of taking care of someone, being expected at someone’s home at a certain time to feed them. Not that Santi needed to be fed, the man could subsist on protein powder and supplements if needed. It was the promise you made to him….

 How worried he’d been for you in the early weeks following Jay's death. When he wouldn’t see the lights of your home turn on all evening despite knowing you were inside. How he’d knock and sometimes you couldn’t find it within yourself to even tell him to go away; instead silently crying into the pillow that your head couldn’t leave.

Santi had been at a loss. He was grieving too and could only turn his pain into work. Toughing out the emotions through tasks.

It had been an odd morning about two weeks after the funeral that you saw a pair of legs sticking out from under Jay’s car in the front driveway. You were so pissed that someone was fucking with Jay’s things that you went outside for the first time in over a week, in your pajamas (a pair of Jay’s sweats and one of his giant cotton t-shirts) no shoes, and kicked the intruder in the thigh, hard enough to hurt your own toes.

“Get the fuck away from that car! I’m calling the cops!” You screamed, not caring that Mrs. Rosenthall was walking her little dog across the street, slowing her pace to watch the domestic scene play out. 

“Fuck!” The hidden man shouted grabbing his thigh and in the process of reacting to the leg kick, he audibly hit his head on the underside of the car, giving another prolonged “Fuuuck.” Before scrambling out from under Jay’s vintage Mustang. 

“Santi? What—What are you doing?” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to get to his knees, wiping off the oil from his hands onto what are clearly work pants. 

“I’m changing the oil and then, if you’d be so kind as to not club me in the head with a wrench, I was going to replace the spark plugs.”

“Replace the spark plugs?” 

“Yes. After the oil. Jesus, you kick like a horse.” He groans, rubbing his definitely bruised thigh over his dark blue pants.

“Sorry.” You mutter, meaning it but not really projecting culpability. How were you supposed to know it was him? Santi dives back under the car and you gasp affronted. “You can’t have his car you know. Just because he’s— you can’t, it’s not yours.”  You sound like a child, unable to even express basic sentiments and the ones that you can express are stubborn and selfish. It’s the way you’ve come used to talking in the past few weeks. 

Santi makes a frustrated sound under the vehicle and you don’t know if it’s because of your words, or if its a particularly stubborn nut he’s prying. 

He emerges from under the car again after a few silent moments of you shifting your weight from foot to foot. Santi brings out a pan of dirty oil with him and wipes his brow with the back of his dirty forearm.

“I’m not angling for the car, Vin. It’s not my style. The fucking color alone, dios. But if you just let these things sit here, unused and unserviced, they have a tendency rot, ok?”

The metaphor feels like a personal attack, an attack on your inability to honor Jay’s memory by letting his car go to shit, an attack on your own inability to take care of yourself down to the routine maintenance of tooth brushing.

The tears come again and you let them fall pathetically. “Jesus, will I ever stop crying? I didn’t know this many tears could exist in a person.” You laugh in woe at the hard understanding on Santiago’s face. 

Santiago brings you into his arms. He holds you and lets you ugly cry into the dirty fabric of his shirt. The oil and armorall smell reminds you of Jay and all his Saturday mornings spent under that fucking car. 

Jay would come in after an hour or two, depending on what needed to be done, or how distracted he’d get on the maintenance if Santiago showed up to help. Tack on an extra hour if they decided it needed a ‘test drive’.

You always had breakfast waiting for him when Jay came in; oily and sweaty. Sometimes he’d come in and grab you from behind with dirty hands to which you’d shriek and demand that he needed to take a shower before he ate. You regret that now. You miss his big strong arms and you you’d give anything for the stains of his embrace. So you shift tighter into Santiago’s hug.

“I’m filthy.” He says apologetically. Probably realizing you’re in One of Jay’s nicer cotton shirts, definitely not something he’d wear to work on the ‘Stang, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. 

“I don’t care.” You insist through tears, clutching his torso like a port in a storm. Santiago rubs your back, up and down like soothing an infant. You even hiccup like one. 

“Do you wan’t to come in for breakfast?” You sniff. “Please.”

“You don’t need to make me breakfast, Vin. You should probably rest.”

“No. No, I don’t need to sleep. Please?” 

Santiago hesitates. You can feel his head turn to look at the car. 

“Spark plugs first, then I’ll go home to shower, then I’ll come back for breakfast. You need me to bring anything?”

“You don’t need to shower.” God, it comes out so starved. Your emotional regulation has gone to absolute shit and you realize for the first time that the feeling that has been eating you up is a little thing called loneliness. 

“Vin, it’s okay, I’ll come back.” He pats your back and you pull out of the hug, wiping your tears and snot on the back of your forearm, looking down at your barefeet on the gravel.

“Eggs.” You nearly whisper.

“Eggs?”

“Eggs. Bring eggs. I don’t think ours are— mine are any good.”

Santiago showered and came back with eggs and you made food in your kitchen for the first time in weeks, fresh food, a meal that wasn’t a condolence casserole. 

 It lifted your sprits up so much that you begged Santiago to come over the next morning and then it quietly evolved to you bringing the baked goods over to his house. The responsibility did so much to haul you out of bed on days that threatened to swallow you into the folds of your comforter, on days where all you’d want to do was watch the day grow bright and fall dim without performing a solitary meaningful action. 

Two years had passed. There were hardly any mornings nowadays where you felt the pull to sink into sleep and waste the day in unconsciousness. You were excited to get up every morning to see your friend. And on days when he would be gone due to the nature of his work, you’d braved up and made other friends in the neighborhood, bringing them freshly baked scones or a pitaya bowl if it it was too hot to bake. Just something. A reason to get up, to greet someone. 

Santi’s home is immaculate, like always. He’s the type of single man who takes pride in a cleanly appearance, wether that’s a learned behavior from the military or if he’s always been tidy from childhood, you don’t know. The granite countertops are spotless and he’s perched at the barstool with the morning paper. His hair is still slightly damp from his morning shower and he scowls over the sports page, shaking his head at some news or other from the top fold. 

“I hope you like crasins… and walnuts.”

“Jesus, Vin!” Santi startles from his stool and tosses the paper down.

“That’d be a no on the crasins then?” You laugh and ruffle the back of his curls as he settles back down into his seat. You grab a couple plates and napkins, setting a crasin muffin down on each one before pouring yourself a cup of coffee from the pot into your designated yellow mug (a trinket Santiago had made at a Color Me Mine double date from 3 or so years ago).

“You ever think about knocking when you come over?” He takes a bite from the muffin and hums pleased. 

“Knocking? I’m hurt. So all that mi casa su casa talk was just for show, Garcia?”

Santi closes his eyes and slaps the counter. “Mmmm, this.” He points at the muffin and gives you a thumbs up.

“You like it more than the cinnamon rasin bread from yesterday?”

He wipes his mouth off on a napkin and gulps from his coffee mug. “That was good too.”

You take a bite of your own muffin and hum in agreement. “Oh yeah, that shit’s delicious. Adding this one to the roster for sure.”

“Uh, roster, don’t remind me.”

“Why?” You gesture to the paper “was there a tragic drafting in the world of fantasy football? Should I fly the flag at half mast?”

“Pretty dismal. Do you want to hear about it?”

“I mean, you can tell me anything, Santiago, but I’m not going to understand a word you’re saying.”

“Uh huh, I figured. I’ll spare you the tragic details and sum it up with ‘I think I’m going to lose a big chunk of change to the boys this week’ but, hey, at least I’ve got these muffins.”

“You can’t have them all, I was going to bring the rest over to Mrs. Rosenthal.”

Santi makes a quiet noise of indignation and pulls the plate of muffins closer to himself. 

“Not to Gertie! You know her little fur ball was barking till past midnight? Right outside my window. Again. She doesn’t deserve muffins.” There’s a twinkle of teasing in his eyes and you sigh and relent, squeezing between your fingers the bit of tum that sits above his belt.

“You’re starting to turn into a muffin. I spoil you too much.”

With a full mouth, Santi shoves the plate back in your direction and frictions his fingers clean of crumbs.

“Take em!” He shouts dramatically with a mouth full of muffin, pushing his stool back and taking his plate to the sink to wash it by hand. 

“I like the tum by the way, it’s very becoming… and the dad bod is fitting, you know, considering…” 

You trail off and Santi turns around wide eyed, drying his hands on a dark grey tea towel. “Do you mean…?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, not yet, not for a couple weeks… I mean I could be right now, and I— I wouldn’t know.” You’re beaming, eyes alight with excitement. “I’m nervous!” You clap your hands quietly together. “That’s why I made so many muffins this morning, I’m just ugh, bouncing with the anticipation— HEY what are you doing with my coffee, Garcia?!” Santi dumps your full cup of coffee down the sink and starts on hand washing your yellow mug. The barstool scrapes as you get up to retrieve your mug from his soapy hands.

“You can’t be having caffeine! It’s bad for the baby!” His upper arms are strong as he blocks you from getting your hands on the mug with his back turned to you.

“Bad for the baby? How do you know that?” Santi dries your mug with a clean towel and sets it by the electric tea kettle, flipping the blue switch on. When he abandons the mug to grab some tea from the cupboard, you snatch it and hide it behind your back, making your way sneakily over to the coffee pot as he rummages for something on the shelf.

“I’ve been reading up about it.”

“Reading up about it?” You’re not really listening to him, simply parroting his words as you quietly pour yourself a new cup of delicious dark roast coffee. 

“Aha! Got it!” He holds up a box of celestial seasonings tea, eyes getting wide as he sees you taking a sip from the piping hot mug.

“Vin!” He cocks his head and holds out a hand, and the way his eyes narrow on yours, glinting with resoluteness makes you sigh with defeat and hand him the steaming hot mug.

He rinses it out once again without complaint and you examine the box of “ugh, herbal tea?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ of the word. There’s no arguing with Santi. 

“I might not even be pregnant, you know.” But the proffered information is pointless. You know what he’s about to say before he even says it.

“Yeah, but you might be.” It’s exactly what you knew he was going to say. 

“I never read anything like that.” But it’s a lie. You have read things like that, but of all the things? Coffee? How are you supposed to live without coffee?

“Well maybe you should read harder. I have a book you can borrow.”

“You have a book?”

“I’m not done with it yet, I’ll let you read it when I’ve finished.” Santi pours the boiling water over the teabag and you almost cry when he places the mug into your hands. In a last ditch effort to get your way, you pout your lips out and fix him with a defeated stare.

“After all the muffins I’ve made for you. Now this.”

“Nuh uh, Vin. Just try it.” He ruffles your hair in a very ‘you’ move and chuckles when you stomp your foot in a petulant show. 

You sit back at the stool and blow on your tea before taking an exploratory sip. It’s not bad, but you scrunch your face in disgust anyway. 

Santi shakes his head at you and takes a big gulp of his own coffee. “Mmmm, that arabica roast. Delicious.”

“You shit.” You mutter taking another gulp from the chickory tea. It’s really not too bad. You’ll have to take a picture of the box so you can get some more from the store later. 

“I don’t mind playing the villain, as long as our baby won’t have a third arm from the bio hazard levels of caffeine you consume on a daily basis.”

Our baby. Our baby. Our baby. Your eyes go wide and Santiago backtracks. “I didn’t mean ‘our’ baby like that, I meant your baby… of course.”

A few beats of silence fall between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, I shouln’t—“

“I’ve been meaning to—“

You both speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly. Santiago gestures to you gently. “Please, go ahead.”

“I… I was just… well you signed all the papers Renatta gave you, and I’m sure that you, being Mr. ‘I’ve been doing my own research’, you read the whole release contract?”

“I did.”

“So… how involved did you… how involved are you intending to be with the baby?” The baby. Neutral. Not “my”, not “our”, “the”. Safe.

Santi scratches his smooth jaw and licks his lips deliberately. 

“I guess I’ll be.. I wan’t to be…”

Your heart stops for a second with the intensity of his pause, your head swims and flicks through future images at a thousand miles a minute. Santiago holding a little baby’s hands as it takes its first wobbly steps, shushing a wailing baby to sleep in a nursery that doesn’t exist, singing lullabies, scrunching his nose at a dirty diaper, hiking trips with a toddler on his shoulders, tee ball practice. You shake your head to clear the whole little lifetime that unfolds rapidly in fantasy form.

“I want to be as involved as you let me.” His eyes meet yours then. And you nod unthinking at the brilliant umber depths. “If you want me to be their uncle, their neighbor, their… whatever. I’m,” he takes in a breath that fills his whole chest, “I’m okay to be whatever you need me to be.”

“Okay.”

“Well how involved do you want me to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“At all?”

“No.” Your voice sounds small and all of a sudden you feel like you’re being interrogated. 

“Haven’t thought about it one bit?” He presses.

“No.” But the no feels like a lie. Because of course you’ve thought about it. You’re thinking about it right now, seated next to him in his immaculate kitchen.

“That tracks.” He scoffs and goes back to his paper, flicking the pages open with agitation. 

“Hey!” You push his fist down and hold his clenching fingers lightly with your own. His face looks hurt. “I don’t really know right now. It’s— this is all new to me, Santiago.”

Santi nods in understanding but still looks as though there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s trying to reign in. “I’m sorry Vin. You…” he unclenches his fist and takes your fingers into his warm palm, holding them with reassurance. You stare down at your joined hands, unable to meet his understanding eyes. You don’t deserve how kind and patient he is with you. How giving he’s always been with you. His nature makes you feel fucking guilty at times. “You take all the time you need, Vin. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No?”

“No. I live right next door.”

You smile at him. “Thanks, Santi.”

He lets go of your hand and pats it. “Plus the real estate market is a nightmare right now,” he takes another sip of his coffee which sloshes slightly when you shove his shoulder. “I’d be insane to sell in this economy.”

“You shit!”

Santi smiles and goes back to his paper with a smile and genuine interest. 

“What are your plans for today, officer.”

Santi scratches his eyebrow, “I need to hit up Home Depot to get some fresh wire for the weed whacker. How about you?’

“Oh my god, thats perfect!”

“Glad you think so, seeing as how I’ll be treating your lawn too.”

“Are you taking your truck?”

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“Becasuse… if you could, if you’d be so kind…”

Santi rolls his eyes, “What do you need?”

“There’s this little outdoor plant shelf from their weekly ad that I want to get. Plus this osmosis water filtration thingy, but what I really need your truck for is the plant shelf.” You temple your fingers at your lips in hopefulness. 

“Thought you said it was ‘little’?”

“Uhhh…. Comparatively.”

“Compared to what?”

“Compared to my car.”

“Vin…”

“And I know what you’re thinking. You think that I’m going to force you to build the plant shelf for me.”

“Bingo.”

“But its pretty simple, I think I can do it myself!”

“Uh huh.”

“I will need to borrow your zzzz zzzzzz gun, though.”

“My what??” 

“Don’t play dumb. Your bzzzz bzzzz gun! The think that can drill stuff?”

“My drill, you mean?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Santi scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And the osmosis filter?”

“What about it?”

“Is it an internal or external component?”

“Uhhh? Elaborate?”

“Is the system under the sink or to the side of the sink?”

“Oh! Under.”

Santi blinks at you. “And where will the filtered water come out of?”

“A little spigot with a lever on the side of the main faucet.”

“You know you’ll need a drill for that one too? Plus you’ll need to shut off the water main? I…. Vin, did you know this?”

“No… but I did taste the reverse osmosis water and Renatta’s the other day and ugghhh I need it! She said it wasn’t hard to install.”

“Really? Did she install it herself?”

“No. She hired someone.”

“You’re insane.”

“I can figure it out, Santi! I don’t need your help! I just need your truck to fit the planter desk thingy.”

“Fine.” 

You clap your hands and Santi sighs, grabbing his keys and sunglasses. You push past him out the door with the plate of remaining muffins

“I just gotta drop these off at Gertie’s and grab my purse, I’ll meet you at your truck!” 

“Careful!” Santiago barks at you as you jump over the low hedge toward Mrs.Rosenthal’s house. You nearly stumble and spill the plate of muffins on her driveway. You turn to see Santiago standing on his porch with his sunglasses on his head, both hands on his hips and shaking his head at you with a slight smile. He really would make a great dad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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- drunken confession -

✧ pairing: santiago “pope” garcia x f!reader 

✧ summary: your best friend santi needs a ride home after a night out with the guys. pope, being the drunk man he is, confesses his pent-up feelings for you. 

✧ genre: fluff/soft comfort

✧ warnings: nothing bad, just mentions of alcohol and a bit of cursing

✧ word count: 1.2k

✧ author’s note: listen i’m like, in love with santi rn and um i was like why not do a lil fic of him? this is probably the first fic i’ve ever posted lol and well hope u guys like it! :) ♡ this is more in santi's pov and how he views you rather than vice versa. !! keep in mind, english is not my first language and if u see any mistakes pls ignore them :') (this doesn’t help my oscar obsession) 

@marc-spectorr helped me come up with this !! pls read her fics ! they're amazing and she's one of my favorite fanfic authors. i love u callie, this one's for u amiga, hope u like it ! ♥︎ 

You had just picked up your best friend, who was, not to your surprise, drunk.

It made your eyebrows raise in amusement as you quietly snickered to yourself, seeing just how out of it Santiago was as he stumbled over to your car. He was usually so composed and right now, he was loosened up.

Frankie had texted you earlier, asking if you could give Santi a ride home. The other boys were still drinking and partying their hearts out, they weren't going anywhere just yet. He had hoped you could take Pope with you, knowing you were just getting out of work anyways. He didn't want another wasted man to take care of, plus, he knew Santi would get rest if he went home early.

Not to mention how much Pope spoke of you; Frankie knew the man felt something for you, and vice versa. The two of you were just stubborn or shy, if he could call it that, to admit it to each other.

"Heeyy princesa," Santi slurred as soon as he was inside the car with you. "I missed you, I was looking, everywhere for you," he added, his hand snaking up to grab yours, interlocking your fingers with his own, while his other open palm gestured to the air around him.

You felt your heart flutter all of a sudden in your chest. He usually wasn't this touchy with you.

What does that mean? No, no, relax, he's just drunk.

Sure, there were the occasional hugs and his arm placed around your shoulders, but, never.. hand-holding. God, you felt your heart beat quicker by the minute.

"You look really beautiful tonight, amor," Santi complimented, "but you always do, right, Morales? Veery beautiful."

Your cheeks warmed up at his words.

"Take care of this idiot for me, will you?" Frankie chuckled, clapping Santi on the shoulder.

"Oh, I will, don't you worry." You grinned, your gaze shifting over to Santi who was staring at you with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

"Alright, drive safe, amiga."

▬

Santi watched as you hummed to the music playing on the radio, eyes on the road, hand on the steering wheel and everything.

He noticed you were wearing scrubs, which barely clicked in his head that you had just come out of work.

"How.. was work, hermosa? Busy?" He asked you, that lopsided smile of his still on his handsome face. His short salt-and-pepper curls were hit by the bright red hue of the traffic light, illuminating his face too, the curve of his nose, his cheekbones.

Santi softly brushed his thumb across the warm skin of your hand, still holding it, in a way that screamed "i'm not letting go anytime soon".

You turned to look at him. "Oh, it was horribly busy. I had a lot of patients this shift and god, the doctor was chewing my ear off..."

As you explained to him how your day went, your words faded away as his dark brown eyes studied the features of your face for a long moment. The shape of your nose, your lips, your eyes, your scars, your eyebrows.

The same face he fell in love with ever since he had met you in that hospital in Paraguay, where you tended to the children that needed immediate medical attention with such carefulness and precision. He remembered how he felt when his heart stopped at the sight of you. You looked so beautiful and so caring; the way you softly smiled at the kid you were helping.

His gaze flitted down to your interlocked hands.

He loved you, and so he thought, with a burst of confidence, maybe he should tell you that tonight.

▬

"Come on honey, dance with me for a bit." Santi chuckled at you as he pulled you in for a spin, much to your cute protest.

"What you should be doing instead of dancing, Garcia, is getting your drunk ass to bed." You laughed, swatting at his chest playfully to make him let go of you. As much as you wanted to dance with him, he was drunk and you wanted him to get some rest.

"Only if you're there with me." He winked and you rolled your eyes at him in response. His hands drifted down to place themselves on your waist.

Santi felt your body go still from the feeling of his hands on you. He smirked down at you, and soon, that smirk turned into a soft smile.

Quickly enough, your own hands found themselves around his neck. You returned the smile he gave you without hesitation.

He leaned forward, gently placing his forehead against yours.

He heard your breath quietly hitch in your throat.

Even with all of the alcohol in his system, Santi suddenly and strangely felt steady.

He loved you, and he wanted to tell you that. Maybe he should. Would right now be a good time?

He knew you felt the same. He noticed how you would get visibly flustered whenever he'd compliment you, how you'd smile to yourself as you looked away from him, how you'd gaze at him when you thought he wasn't looking. He knew you did.

But if he was wrong, he'd know by your reaction.

A good minute passed by.

"San-"

"I like you," he cut you off, "a lot. Like, a lot, a lot." Santi laughed quietly under his breath.

"This isn't the alcohol talking, baby. I know, I'm not so great with this... kind of thing; confessing feelings and all, but I don't think I can hide it anymore."

"I've loved you ever since I saw you in that hospital years ago. I-I can barely understand what I feel for you." He whispered, one hand now on the side of your face, the other on your hip. Santi noticed the way your eyes slightly widened in surprise and in another emotion he couldn't quite place.

"I love the sound of your voice, I love the way your nose scrunches up when you smile, I love it when you dance in the kitchen, thinking nobody else is watching you. I love everything about you, you know?"

"I.. I've never felt anything like this before, preciosa. You're fucking beautiful and sometimes I-I wonder to myself how lucky I am to be your best friend. I just hope we can become something more." He finished, losing himself in those eyes he loved so much.. but judging by your stunned silence, he was quick to add: "B-but if you don-"

"Do you really feel that way, Santiago?" It was your turn to cut him off with a whisper, a pretty smile growing on your lips. You rarely called him by his actual name.

His heart swelled at the sound of you saying it.

"Meant every word, amor." He sighed in relief, feeling your hands hold his face, your thumbs caressing his cheeks slowly. He swore you could hear his heart beating.

Next thing he knew, you were softly pressing your lips against his, drawing him in as close as you could.

If his heart was running fast earlier, it was certainly running a fucking marathon right now. Probably add in a somersault, too.

Santi's arms wrapped and tightened around you, as if never wanting to let go, afraid that this moment would vanish if he did so.

He knew he'd never get tired of kissing you.

Eventually, you pulled away from him with a smile, much to his dismay.

Gazing into his onyx eyes, you chuckled to yourself, whispering:

"I love you too, Santiago Garcia. You have no idea."

Something in the Water

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count 859

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, sex in a lake, skinny dipping, PLEASE SKIP THIS ONE IS YOU ARE UNDER 18

Request: Can we maybe get some Poe Dameron and pool sex? Or beach sex, or lake sex, just anything in water really. :3 from anonymous

A/N: First smut on this blog whoohoo

The cool sensation of the water made (Y/N)’s toes curl as she plopped down on the grass beside the lake, dipping her feet into the water.

“Looks like I picked the right spot,” Poe said with a smirk.

He sat beside her, his heart swelling with affection as she brought her head to lean on his shoulder with a content sigh.

“Couldn't imagine spending our break any other way.” (Y/N) replied, kicking her feet a bit. Poe smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair.

He looked down at the lake before him. The water was almost completely clear, the bottom shifting in and out of visibility. “Let's hop in.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, her eyebrows raised slightly. “I don't think it'd be the best idea to show up back at base with our clothes sopping wet.”

Poe thought for a moment, his brows furrowing together before a wide smile appeared on his face.

He shot up from his spot beside her, the water splashing up as his feet left it. Poe shed off his jacket, letting it fall in a patch of grass followed by his undershirt.

“Poe Dameron, I know you are not doing what I think you're doing.” (Y/N) said, her eyes running over his toned figure.

He winked at her as he unbuckled his belt, tossing it who knows where before letting his pants fall to the ground.

Poe shed his underwear, laughing as (Y/N) jokingly covered her eyes. “Nothing you haven't seen before, beautiful.”

She shielded her face as he jumped into the lake, splashing water in her direction.

“Come on gorgeous, the waters’ just right,” Poe said, holding his arms out in her direction.

(Y/N) sighed dramatically, removing her clothes and placing them in a neat pile beside his.

Poe watched as she made her way toward the lake, biting down on his lip as she sat on the edge. “How’d I get myself a girl like you?”

He swam toward her and settled between her legs, resting his hands on her thighs.

“I don't know. How do you think?” She said, running a hand through his now damp curls.

Poe smirked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into the water. She shivered at the sudden coolness on her bare skin.

He pulled them backward, the water trying to resist his motions. (Y/N) let her legs float up to wrap around his waist, feeling his erection touch against her skin.

The water sloshed around them as he moved his hands to cup her ass, squeezing tightly before attaching his lips to hers.

The wet movement of their lips against each other and the loud slosh of the lake water whenever he pulled her closer filled the air.

Poe pulled away with a wet smack, smirking at her before moving to press his lips to her breast, kissing the skin just above her nipple before wrapping his lips around it.

(Y/N) tightened her grip on his hair, whimpering as he tugged gently with his teeth. The water sloshed wildly as she attempted to grind against his solid cock.

Feeling satisfied with his attention to her breasts, Poe rested his forehead against hers. He let the water help him hold her up as he guided his cock toward her entrance, teasing it before pushing the tip in at her desperate whimpers.

(Y/N) gasped as she sunk into the water, his cock filling her. Poe pressed his lips to her neck, his hands on her ass guiding her up and down on his throbbing cock.

He moaned loudly, muttering a low shit as she began to bob up and down quicker, the water splashing against their backs at the harsh movement.

She threw her head back as he hit that special spot inside her, her mouth widening to a O shape as he continued to ram into it.

Her walls tightened around him as she came, burying her face in his neck as she reveled in the sensations in and around her. Her walls clenching around his still moving cock, the water sloshing against her back, splashes that left droplets on her chest.

Poe pressed his lips to any exposed skin he could reach, biting down as he emptied himself inside her, tasting the droplets of lake water and sweat n her skin.

After a moment of rest, he pulled out of her, lifting her out of the water bridal style. “I really like this lake. Nature is so beautiful.”

“Oh yeah, you were really admiring nature. That's what you were focused on. ” (Y/N) said, rolling her eyes.

Poe dunked her head in the water, laughing as she rubbed the water from her face as he pulled her back up.

He pressed a kiss on her damp lips, placing her down on the grass to redress.

“Ya know, you should really dry your hair. You could catch a cold.” Poe joked as (Y/N) handed him his jacket.

She swatted his shoulder, the annoyance on her face dissolving as he tossed his arm over her shoulder to walk them back to base.

Be Changed; Be Undone Masterlist

Pairing: Duke Leto x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only The title is from the song Be Brave by My Brightest Diamond; the chapter titles are from the same song. Set before the events of Dune.  Summary: The Bene Gesserit believe that if there is any hope to change the fate of Duke Atreides, a child of his must wed a Harkonnen. For this, the family will need a daughter.

What’s My Responsibility?

Now Get to Work

It’s So Easy

Feeling Anger Swell

Be Undone The Flood The Fire

The Oil Spill

Undone Undone (II)

Just to Be

Under House Arrest Don My Mask

Be Changed

Be Brave

I Am

Beaded Dress

Changed

Dear One

Half of You (Part 2) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]

PART 1 HERE

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Male masturbation. Language.

Summary: You accompany Santiago to his... self-love appointment.

A/N: this story is just pouring out of me. The response to Part 1 was so amazing, pls let me know if you like this and if I should keep going.

“You didn’t need to come with me.”

“I won’t be cumming with you.” You elbow him in the ribs over the lacquered pine armrests of the waiting room chairs the both of you are seated in.

“Ha ha.” Santiago rolls his eyes and fidgets his thumbs, tapping his heels on the short carpeted floor. 

“Are you nervous?” Your tone takes on a more concerned quality, you place your hand on his elbow and rub his arm with your thumb. This is a lot to ask of him. Far beyond the scope of normal friendly obligation. This isn’t helping you unload boxes on moving day, this is… cumming in a sterile cup to conceive a child. 

Santi nods. His eyes scan the room. “A little.”

You want to tell him that it’s okay, that he should relax, it’ll be over soon. That his nerves are partially to do with the fact he hasn’t ejaculated in 4 days (a tidbit of necessary information that you did not reveal to him in your dinner discussion). Instead your voice cracks when you tell him “you’ll do great!” 

He fixes a hard, stony stare onto you and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh come on! You’ve gotta be all pent up from not… you know. You’ll feel so good afterwards.”

Santi shakes his head, staring at his lap. “Remind me again of why I wasn’t allowed to jerk off for four days?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Santi’s eyes narrow on yours.

“Because of the sperm count!” You whisper to him, suddenly aware of the waiting room full of couples and solitary women. “The longer you abstain, the higher the count. If we want the IUI to work, then you gotta keep the count high.”

Santi sighs in defeat. “Yeah.”

“You were able to, right?”

“What?” 

“Abstain?” 

Santi’s brow furrows in incredulity. “Of course I abstained!”

“Just checking.”

“Listen, Vin. A man does not forget when someone tells him he’s not allowed to cum for 4 days.”

You definitely owe him another steak dinner. Maybe not at the same restaurant, but you make a mental note to secure a reservation once he goes to… his business. 

“Thank you.” You hastily whisper to him, patting his elbow.

He nods without looking at you. Still twiddling his thumbs, heels still rocking to and fro. 

“Garcia, Santiago!” A nurse calls from the station door. You rise with Santi.

“What are you doing?” He whispers gruffly at you as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m, coming with you, duh.”

“No you’re not.” He sets a hand on your shoulder. “You sit down here and wait for me. Or leave, go to Starbucks or something.”

You laugh and step towards the nurse. “Of course I’m going with you!” 

His eyes are wide but stern. 

“Sit down, Vin. This is a solitary activity, I’m pretty fucking sure.”

“I’m here for moral support!”

He shakes his head and places both hands on your shoulders. “Look, it’s weird enough that you tagged along to this appointment. Doctor Shepherd said it was just supposed to be me. Let me do this alone, right? Its a… it’s a fucking removed process! I—“

“Garcia, Santiago!” The nurse shouts again into the waiting room. 

You really don’t want to make this more uncomfortable for Santiago than it already is, and truthfully you hadn’t considered that joining him today would make things even MORE weird. So you acquiesce and sit back down, patting his lower back as he straightens up and makes his way to the station door. 

“Knock em dead!” You call out to him, earning a chuckle from the room of expectant mothers. A faint red flush creeps up his cheeks and he gives you the Greg Focker ‘I’m watching you’ eye-fingerpoint to which you wink at. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head at you, pantomiming an “straight to the moon” honeymooner’s fisticuffs threat. 

He disappears behind the door and you sink back into your seat, rifling through the stack of magazines on the little table to keep yourself occupied for the next however-long.

~~~

“Garcia?” The nurse greets him dubiously, clipboard in hand.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.” She scans the papers on her board and lifts a page, eyes darting back and forth before she drops them and, no shit, gives him a once over, tip to toe, while shaking her head. What in the fuck?

“Problem?”

“No. No, not at all. Santiago Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“No need for attitude, sir. Just making sure.”

Santi bites back the vitriol, nearly cracking his molars in the process. 

“Alright, mister Garcia” Even the way she says his name seems to be dripping with air quotes. What in the fuck? “You’re going to go into that room there where there are materials you can help yourself to. This is a sterilized cup, please don’t do anything to this cup other than catch the sample.”

“Got it.”

“Please don’t interrupt me Mr. Garcia.”

“Sorry?”

She sighs exasperatedly. “Do not spit in or lick the cup, do not put any other fluids other than ejaculate in the cup, do not rub the insides of the cup on contaminated surfaces including but not limited to your clothing, other body parts, furniture—“

“Jesus, what goes on in there?”

“Do not interrupt me, sir or I will have to ask you to vacate the premises. Do you understand?”

Santi wants to scream, to take this woman’s clipboard and break it in half on his knee. The only thing keeping him sane is the thought of Vin. This is all for Vin. Vin. Vin. Vin.

His breathing slows and he nods. “I understand. Please, continue.”

The nurse eyes him dubiously. “You’ll have a maximum of 30 minutes in there at which point an attending nurse will knock on the door. If you fill the sample before that allotted time, please seal the sample with the attached lid and bring it to this cart, right here by the station. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

The nurse shakes her head at Santiago slowly, sizing him up once again, her gaze lingering on the cup in his hand. He fights the urge to shout at her what the big fucking deal is, why she doesn’t think him capable of following such basic commands. But he doesn’t. He breathes evenly instead, and asks,

“Should I… may I go in there now?” Christ he just wants this over with.

The nurse narrows her eyes at him and he feels nothing but rage. 

“Go ahead.”

Santiago releases a deep breath and leans toward the nurse to read her name badge. “Thank you Nurse… Johnson. Much appreciated” 

Nurse Johnson clutches her scrub-clad chest and Santiago turns and enters the self-love room, alone at last.

``````

It’s intimidating. The amount of erotic material. Tapes line the walls like a filthy library and suddenly that 30 minute timeline doesn’t seem like enough. No doubt nurse Johnson has a thirty minute stopwatch on him and he can feel the seconds tick down his nerve-bare spine. 

“Shit” he mutters to himself, checking the spines of each video. Nothing grabs his attention and he figures he’d better calm down before attempting anything. He sinks into the armchair before thinking about how many jerk-off sessions must have taken place in it, and he’s propelling himself out of it, pacing back and forth in the cramped room.

“For Vin, for Vin, for Vin.” He repeats to himself and gives himself a slap across the cheek for good measure. The only thing that draws his cock out of his jeans is the thought of the timer running out and him not producing a sample. Coming out empty handed? It’d be ample enough reason for Nurse Johnson to give him yet another judgy ‘up and down’ and he can’t have that.

His cock is limp because he can’t stop thinking about the infuriating nurse. He lowers himself back into the questionable armchair and strokes his needy, flaccid cock in his palm. His only thought is on Vin. How he can’t let her down. He settles back more fully into the seat and scrunches his eyes against the fluorescent lights. 

Vin. Vin. Vin. He licks his lips and tells himself he’s thinking only of her desire to have a child… His child.

His cock grows hot and full at the thought, quickly swelling heavy with blood in his palm. Vin, Vin, Vin. He sees her smiling up at him. He imagines her crawling up his lap with that stupid smile of hers and kissing the shaft of his cock. He grips himself harder, thumb spreading his pre-cum over the head. Fuck. His legs relax and he tilts his head back into the recliner. 

It’s her hands on him now, not his own, that pump him straight and hard, licking slyly every now and then, the way he always thought she might. Bastard. He's a Disgusting bastard. He pulls harder on his cock, fucking up into the circle of his fist. He’s a fucking pervert, more perverted than shoving in some kind of Step-Daddy video to the player or some shit. He’s thinking about his best friend. The woman not a few yards and several walls away. She’s probably humming to herself, reading an article in the waiting room, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. God fucking dammit she’s so pretty. Fuck, if he wants to cum for her, he simply has to degrade her in his own mind, it’s the only way.

His cock wins over his brain and he pictures fucking her the way he’s pictured it a hundred times before. Shoving down those tactical pants, getting her on all fours and fucking her stupid on the nearest hard surface of anything. 

He grits his whole face shut, imagining how she would beg for it. Especially now, all baby hungry and begging for his cum, begging him to fill her up, begging him to fuck a baby into her— something he’s never considered before that steak dinner. Fuck. How the tears might gather and fall from her eyes with how hard he rams her cervix. Shit. Fuck, he’s close, he wants to give it to her so bad. Wants to fill her up, give her everything she needs, wants to kiss those pretty tears away when he… fuck shit Jesus fuck,

He manages to have enough forethought to shakily grab the sample cup and cum into it. The whole process ruining the hot fantasy in his mind. He’d rather cum without it, letting his seed spill over his pumping fist. No, he’d rather cum in her. Cum in Vin, feel the heat of it coat the head of his pounding cock in her needy pussy… but that’s not happening. That’s never going to happen. So he pants and curses, spilling himself into the stupid cup. He bites his tongue and squeezes the last drops from his cock into the cup, knowing that this ill gotten gain will be injected into her womb shortly. The thought sends a shiver up his spine and if he weren’t so god awful tired, he’d be getting hard all over again. 

END

taglist:

@miraclesabound @reallystressedhoneybee @blackberries45 @plz-and-spank-you @bit-dodgy-innit @rnlaing @stevenngrant @sharin4readers @hebelongstothestars @stardustbells @alwritey-aphrodite @libraryreservations @eroticandawkward @tripleheartx . @johnny-simpfinger @fangirlfreakingout @jake-g-lockley @lunawants

Request: Oscar Isaac talking about how you both embarrassed your son.

My You-niverse: Blue Jones

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader, Blue Jones x F!Reader (this chapter only)

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: some violence because it's Blue

Series Masterlist

You looked like you were in a basement. You and America were looking around when a door burst open. Two bulky men in suits walk in and following them was..Marc?

"Grab her," your husband's doppelgänger points to America.

Her eyes widen, "What? No! No! Let go of me! Y/N!" she yells, trying to free herself from the men's grasps.

"America!" you go to reach out for her, but the Marc look-alike pointed a stern finger at you.

"Don't. You. Fucking. Dare." he marches up to you, glaring you with his brown eyes. He roughly grabs your face and tsks, "I'm really disappointed in you, Bunny."

You gulp. You've seen Marc angry before but this was different. First off, this wasn't Marc. Secondly, Not Marc was angry at you, so angry he looks like he's ready to kill you.

Two men appeared in the doorway of the basement, "Blue."

The man you now know as Blue, whipped his head around, "What?" he sneered.

"We got a situation upstairs."

Blue sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Of course." he looks at you and beckons you with a finger, "Follow me and don't even think about running."

You nod and promptly follow the man who looks just like your husband.

_____________

America was thrown into a room, the metal door shutting behind her. She began banging against it, "HEY! NO! LET ME OUT OF HERE! HEY! HEY!" she slumped against the door defeated.

She turned around, facing the room and tried summoning a portal. Again, nothing.

"Crap!" she hissed.

She hoped that you'd be able to get to her and the two of you would be able to get out there.

______________

Blue led you to a room that you assumed to be his office. He went around his desk and pulled out a gun from a drawer. He set the weapon on the table and your eyes widened.

When he looked up and saw the fear in your eyes, he chuckled, "No, Bunny. This isn't for you." he moved back around the desk to you, "But if I see that gun out of place, you'll wish it was for you." he lightly tapped your cheek, "Stay here and be good."

You watched him walk out of the room and as soon as the door closed, you scrambled looking for anything you can use a weapon. You eyed a letter opener and immediately grabbed it. You slid it into your pants where it couldn't be seen and you waited.

You're not sure how much time passed, but Blue came back with three men, one of which was holding America.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed in relief and you moved towards her but Blue stopped you.

"Not uh uh, Bunny. We're gonna have a little chat." You and America were forced into the two chairs that were in front of Blue's desk.

Blue sat at the edge of his desk, gun now in hand, "We have an issue. Bunny," he sighs with a shake of his head, "You were my star. My girl. And now look at you. You're really going to throw it all away for some brat?! I gave you everything!"

"This isn't right, Blue."

He scoffs, "Oh so now you wanna tell me what's right and what's wrong? Baby, did you forget that we built this together? Where the fuck is this 'holier than thou' act comin' from, huh?"

"I-I don't know," you stammer out.

Blue let's out a deep breath, "I can't let this slide you know. If you go unpunished, the other girls will think they can walk all over me. And we can't have that now, can we?" he cocks his gun and raises it up. Slow, with intimidation.

But you were quick. You slid out the letter opener, flinging it at Blue. It lands in his shoulder with a howl of pain.

Angry, Blue raises his gun towards you and America throws out her hand with a scream. Suddenly, a bright, star shaped portal appeared.

The men in the room, including Blue, froze, "What the fuck?" Blue mumbled.

"Come on!" you grab America and you two rush to the portal.

You hear gunshots and a pain in your arm. You land in some grass with a thud and the portal disappears.

You and America sigh in relief before your sigh turns into a groan of pain.

"Fucking shit," you sneer as you observe your bleeding arm.

"Are you alright?" you look up to see a man who, again, looked like your husband, but also not.

falling asleep on your partner's shoulder with nathan? <333333

Warnings: None? Fluff?

"Budge up."

That's all the warning you get before Nathan is plopping down into the seat directly beside yours. You frown, turning and looking up over your shoulder. You don't really need to; you know that the only other people on the private jet are the hostess and the pilots.

"Uhhh," You draw out, looking at where Nathan is already toying with his tablet. "What...What can I...There are like ten other seats."

"I like this one."

"You want me to move?"

"No."

"You wanna pick my brain on something?"

"No."

Your mouth opens and closes dumbly, like a landed fish trying desperately to draw in water.

"So—" You flounder, "So—"

"I like this seat."

It's the end of the conversation. Nathan goes quiet, drawing up a proposed schematic and beginning to look over it. You have to keep yourself from arguing. You just slouch down in your seat and check a few emails.

The urge comes to you not long after. Well, it's hard to ignore—Nathan is so close, and warm, and smells...Good. You glance over at him, at his steady work, and then you lower your head to his shoulder and close your eyes. You don't feel him tense, or still. He goes on working. But he does ask,

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting comfy." Then, "Your own fault for sitting next to me."

"This is what I get, huh?"

"Mhm."

A pause. Then, "Alright."

You smile, letting yourself relax a touch more.

"...If you drool on me," He begins to warn.

"You'll make a study out of it?"

"Shut up."

You don't need to open your eyes—you can hear the smile his voice.

"I can move," You add again.

"You're never gonna fall asleep if you keep talking."

You grin, snuggling closer to Nathan, hooking one of your arms around his.

"Wake me up when we start to descend."

"I will not."

He will, and you both know it. You give his forearm a little squeeze, and murmur, "Thanks, Nathan."

He grunts in turn. But after a quiet few moments, you feel his lips press gently to the top of your head.

Ari x Reader: but honestly baby, who's counting? (1, 2, 3) [One Shot]

Plot: Sometimes, you get everything you want by asking nicely.

or, the one where you are drunk and you might've slept with the owner of the hottest club in the city.

Tags: smut, 18+, bar owner! ari, spitting, p in v, some fluff, brief dom/sub, slight dumbification, sex while both drunk, wrap it before you tap it kids, alcohol, beeg ari (faintly mentioned), oral, corn with plot, MINORS DNI [A/N: This shit has not been edited yet so read at your own risk!]

[One]

“And who’er you?”

The entire room was blurry like the world spun and spun and then suddenly stopped but the fluids in your brain still sloshed around like a whirlpool, leaving you all confused, dizzy, and a bit giggly at the smallest bit of everything.

But one thing was for sure: the man in front of you was beautiful and unfairly hot. 

“...ri.” 

You blinked hard, unaware you had tuned out the man’s words in favor of staring at him like a lovesick fool.

“Ri-ri!” you blurted out, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment of being found out that you weren’t listening to him but he just chuckled – the deep, baritone type that traveled to the table you both shared.

You shivered.

“Cold?” he asked, cocking his head and smirking when you followed the direction of it in your quest to somehow figure out what made this man so enticing.

“You wanna warm me up, Riri?”

You weren’t usually this forward. Heck, the only reason you were in this “indie, hip, 80’s” (their words not yours) inspired dive bar was because your workmates dragged you around the city like a tourist.

Well, you might as well be considering you didn't really go out much in the 2 years you had made it your home.

What you didn’t expect was to actually rope some character from Top Gun in a conversation, or for him to smile at you like that till you were visibly swooning.

He was … big. Sitting down he towered over you, protecting you from the blazing disco light behind him. He had shoulder-length hair you wanted to pull and a beard you wanted to ri –

“I don’t see you here often.”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, leaning your hands on your palms as you looked up at him. “I don't go out often.”

He pursed his lips as if holding back laughter. He opened his mouth to seemingly try to have another decent conversation but you were way ahead of him.

“Will you have sex with me, please?”

You saw his entire body tighten for a second before his expression turned dark, looking you up and down till you were squirming in your seat.

“You’re drunk.”

“And so are you,” you insisted, nearly stomping your heels on the ground in protest. “I also have an apartment nearby.”

He laughed. Taking his glass full of dark liquid before emptying it in one gulp. “Is this your game, sweetheart?”

You giggled up at him as if he said something silly but you hiccuped in surprise when he slammed the glass back on the wooden surface.

“Cause if he so,” he stood up and made you gasp as he rounded to your side of the table, eyes falling down to the unmistakable bulge on his pants that, due to his imposing height, fell perfectly on your line of sight as you looked up at him. 

You may have bitten more than you can chew. Or suck – depending on how this night goes.

“I’ll play.”

You could feel yourself going cross-eyed, your mouth hanging open and letting out pathetic short moans. Every time you feel your hips falling down from exhaustion his hands hooked right below it and pulled you right back into his punishing thrusts.

“So good, so good,” you moan, your limbs shaking when he lewdly licked and nibbled on your ear. Your voice was raspy from your dry throat as you doubt your lips were frozen in position as you did but nothing but moan on his cock for the past twenty minutes.

He seemed to have noticed your minute pain and had the perfect remedy – a firm thumb on your chin to angle your open mouth perfectly to spit on.

The act was so dirty and yet so lewd that your brain short-circuited whether you should be disgusted, embarrassed, or turned on. He decided for you – slipping his tongue into yours and having you suck on it, the taste of rich, deep alcohol and a hint of smoke and mint clouding more and more of your mind.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his damp hair falling over your face, as he pressed a kiss on the edge of your lips. “You liked getting fucked, baby? Hmm? Like it when shady men from dirty bars fuck you stupid?”

You nodded, sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure that had you feeling him deep in your guts.

“Gonna cum,” you cried. “Gonna cum, Riri!”

“Can't even get my fucking name right but you're already too willing to drool over my cock,” he grunted. Suddenly, he pulled you two upright, leaning on your headboard and forcing you to sit on his cock, and making you scream. 

Despite being on top he hooked your legs over his arms as he thrust up at you, his teeth now nipping on the crook of your neck as you lay your head over his shoulders. The lewd position made you feel too bare, you would've been embarassed if not for his cock bullying its way into your cervix and making you lose any coherent train of thought.

“Cumming! I’m cumming!” you screamed over what could only be the pounding on the wall from your neighbor. But the thought was quickly blacked out by euphoria as you finally came and squirt all over his lap, falling limply into his thrusts that only doubled in speed and intensity until he too growled in pleasure as he drowned you from the inside.

“Shit,” he muttered, kissing one last hickey on your neck before capturing your lips in a delirious kiss. “That pussy better be protected cause I’m not tryna be a daddy just yet.”

You were about to tell him that you were, in fact, taking birth controls but you could only yelp when he suddenly slapped the inside of your thighs. 

“Time to clean up, baby.”

Confused, you let him manhandle your body until you were kneeling in from his surprisingly hard cock. You gulped, eyes tracing over his drenched rod, “Y-You’re still hard.”

“And you can't leave me like that, can't you, sweetheart?” he cooed, hooking a stray hair behind your ears as you kissed up his length, the taste of him and you had your thighs rubbing against each other.

“N-No,” you pouted, finally reaching his tip, his thumb pressing on your chin to guide you down. “I want to take care of it.”

“Well,” he smirked, eyes now above your head as he stared at the mirror on the wall by your bed, perfectly framing your dripping heat. “Aren't you just the sweetest?”

The next morning you woke up in damp sheets and a card by the pillow.

See u at the bar. -Ari

“Oh,” you winced, hiding your burning face under your arms. “Ari.”

As much as you wanted to go back and drown in wild, hot sex with an equally hot and wild man you had gone out on a Sunday and had work the very next morning. Your legs had gotten so weak and jiggly from your encounter you doubt you would survive a consecutive night with that man.

You were lucky your head didn't burst from the amount of shrieking from your girlfriends when they had found out what happened and the amount of scolding from your manager when you were late for your shift.

“I can’t believe you fucked Ari Levinson! THE Ari Levinson! How’d you do it?” Wanda had moved her chair in front of your table and while Nat decided to stay in her own cubicle, you still had her full attention.

“I …” your entire body heat up when you finally recalled the moments before you had taken him home.

“Will you have sex with me, please?”

“I asked … nicely.”

The two of them looked at you incredulously. 

“You asked?! That’s it!?”

You opened your mouth to explain but your shyness finally overtook you so you just nodded.

The two of them seemed to wait for more explanation but realized you don't have one.

“Do you know how many women would kill you if you told them what you just told us?”

You shook your head.

“Unbelievable,” Natasha remarked, shaking her head and giggling to herself.

“Well,” Wanda continued, patting your shoulder. “I, for one, am very proud of you.”

You gave her a smile as she left with a thumbs up.

“I should ask Steve nicely if he’d let me peg him.”

“Natasha!”

[Two]

If someone asked you, you would say you probably lost your mind. What you know for sure is you don’t know what you were doing here.

What if he was being nice? What if that was just common courtesy among his one-night stands? What if he laughed at your face when you tell him you went here for him?

You could already feel yourself chicken out but before you could take one step forward or back a rough hand tapped on your shoulders.

“Miss?”

A guy that was twice your size and tattooed from his arms up to his face looked down at you.

“Y-Yes? I have my ID with me he –”

He held up a hand to stop you. “Mr.Levinson told me to let you in the back.”

Thank God, Wanda had been screaming in your ear about his full name that you managed to recognize it.

“A-Ari did?”

Instead of answering he just cocked his head and started walking, giving you no choice but to follow him. This entrance, albeit hidden and behind a roped door that had “Keep Out” written all over its length, was more clean and fancy.

On one side compromised a blank velvet wall and the other was littered with an array of doors that led into dimly-lit rooms. From what you could see it seemed to be private lounges for the VIPs.

“John? Who’s that?” a perky voice caught both your attention – it was a long-legged blonde woman that wore a gold mini dress that was basically tattoed on her perfect body. You couldn't help but feel underdressed in your skirt and sleeveless shirt.

“It’s Mr. Levinson’s guest,” he answered professionally though the beautiful woman raised a sharp eyebrow at the words. Her stare made you cower. 

“Huh,” she looked at you up and down then threw her perfectly straightened hair over her shoulders. “He must be fucking bored then.”

The words hurt but as she trotted away and through the door you went in from you could see John roll his eyes and sigh. She must be like that to everyone.

Using his palm, John guided you into another door where louder music was barely muffled.

“Here you are, miss,” he unhooked another fancy rope for you and gave you a smile. Audibly gulping, you steeled your will before going through the curtain where most of the noise was coming from.

You squinted, the bright moving red light blinding you for a split second – enough time for the dancing crowd to swallow you whole.

Your painful yelps and panicked breathing were drowned out by their cheers and screams, too drunk off the booze and loud song from the speakers to notice your panic attack was about to start.

Just as you were about to tip off the edge, a hand yanks you out of the ground and into a warm, sturdy chest.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

“Ari.”

He leaned in for a kiss, guiding your arms around his neck before he gave you a blinding smile and pushed off a drunkard away from you. He was effortlessly moving around the crowd with you protected behind him so he can put you in a booth on the second floor, overlooking the dancing crowd.

“I was just about to drag you out of your apartment if you had made me wait a day longer.”

“I-I was –” you were cut off when he sat down, placing you right in his lap as he leaned back on the fancy red sofa with his arm stretched out. “... I had work.”

“Ah,” he leaned in, closing in their proximity as he reached for a drink on the table behind you. “Jobs – forgot about that.”

He took a drink from his glass, making you swallow with him before you forcibly tore your eyes away from his adam’s apple. “Is this … your job then?”

“Kinda,” he answered, letting his eyes run on the club behind you. “I own it but I do serve drinks here when I’m bored.”

Your eyes widened. “You own it?”

That must have been why Wanda was losing her mind over you sleeping with him.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Enough about this talk about work.”

You still found it difficult to process that you were sitting in the owner’s lap but you tried to shake yourself out of it. Why were you freaking out, if that woman’s word was true then you better than to expect anything serious about this and you were fine with that …. you think. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“About what’s a man gotta do to get a kiss?”

You pursed your lips trying not to smile as your heart followed the exploding beat of the music, the rough pads of his hand now running up your spine as he gently pushed you closer and closer to him. “Have you tried saying 'please'? Always worked for me.”

You were on the floor.

And you should be disgusted.

But the man with you seemed to have a magical power that separates your brain from your body and makes you think through your pussy as he pounded behind it.

“God this fucking ass,” you yelped when he smacked it, but despite the initial pain you still wiggled into his bruising thrusts desperately.

This time you didn’t have to worry about meeting your neighbor's eyes the next morning as Ari had brought you into his own apartment. Well, apartment is quite an understatement as he basically owned the entire floor. The view even from the floor where you were currently getting fucked within an inch of your life was still beautiful despite it getting hazy from your tears.

“Oh baby, don’t cry,” he cooed, though his sweet statement was contrasted with a harsh bite on your shoulders. As if grounding you as he cruelly doubled the speed of his thrusts until you were only screaming his name. “You look too pretty when you cry. And you know I can't control myself that well.”

His hand sneaked in the length of your body, teasing your stomach and then finally reaching your clit and applying enough pressure to help your each your peak. Any strength in your arms left as you squirted into his cock, giving him the perfect angle to fuck you stupid until he himself pulled out and came in your back.

The warm spunk dripped on the length of your back and the faint snap of the camera was something that should've alarmed you but you knew him enough to be quite possessive so you doubted it was something he would spread around. And honestly, you were too tired to care.

“Riri,” you sobbed but he shushed you, pushing a set of pillows on your stomach so you were in a more comfortable position. “‘M sensitive.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he hummed, and yet his hands gripped the globes of your ass and spread it out, baring your pounding core to him. “But I need just one more taste. Or two.”

When you woke up, Ari was surprisingly kind, gentle, and sweet – the exact opposite of the beast who basically chewed on your pussy until you passed out.

“What are you pouting about?” he asked as he pushed another sweet pastry on your mouth. When you had woken up he was already arranging the food he had gotten delivered from a cafe nearby and had the nerve to give you the charming smile that had you and your pussy enarly forgiving him on the spot.

“My …” you swallowed, glaring at the cocky expression on his face. “I’m sore.”

He hummed nonchalantly making you slap his chest, “Alright, no need to get violent! I promise i’ll be nicer next time.”

Next time?

“There’ll be a next time?”

He turned to you, confused at first but then he smirked. This time he stabbed the last piece of the pastry and fed it to you, swiping the excess cream on the edge of your lips and sucking it into his mouth.

“There’ll be a lot of next time, sweetheart.”

[Three]

“I’m just so confused!”

You were venting about your complicated and confusing relationship with Ari to Wanda and Nat.

He was sweet and caring and fucks you like an animal but … there was no label. And you were too scared to lose the one good thing you have going on in your desperation to have some stupid title.

“What if he is not a relationship guy? What if this was just for fun and I’m gonna end up looking stupid? I mean … ‘m okay with what we have right now but I just want to know where I officially stand and he’s just not …. fucking bored and looking for some regular pussy.”

Of all times, the sharp words of that night returned to you now.

“Well, it's not like he doesn't have a line of pussies waiting for him outside his bar so we can cross that reason out –”

“Wanda!” you shrieked, glaring at her as she smirked. “Not helping.”

She raised her hand in surrender. Nat was surprisingly quiet and when you turned to her she had a guilty look written all over her face.

“What?”

“I have a confession to make.”

You could feel your blood turn cold.

“Nat …”

“Listen, this will sound bad –”

“Natasha!”

“But, it’s killing me not to tell when you’re clearly going crazy over this!”

You playfully pretended to punch her so she will hurry up and tell you her big secret that so clearly includes you, “Alright, alright!”

“So,” she cleared her throat. “Ari may or may not have seen you on the back of my car when I was dropping off something at Steve's and he may or may not have bribed me that if I somehow dragged you into his club and get the two of you to meet then he would give me unlimited access to his bar for my entire life if it works.”

She spoke quickly but she wasn’t quick enough to not let her words sink in.

“What?!”

“What, I didn't know this!” Wanda protested with you.

“Listen! He said he was interested and I threatened him, The Godfather style, that I don’t want him playing games with you unless he was really sure and after the two of you first fu –”

You glared at her.

“--hung out, he immediately gave me the pass to the bar so I knew he liked you but it’s not like I can tell you that!”

“What that you sold me like a trading card?”

“Well … in my defense, it did work out! And now you're sure he actually likes you!”

You opened your mouth to make an argument but … she was right. Suddenly, your phone dinged in your pocket.

‘I’m picking you up.’

You couldn't help the small smile to grow on your face.

‘So bossy, i’ll get a cab there i’m in your accomplice’s apartment. Hope I was worth a lifetime’s worth of alcohol.’

Immediately, a reply went through.

‘Shit. I’ll explain at home.’

The word home made your insides flutter but before you could giggle like a schoolgirl you realized your two friends were currently looking at you in shock.

“Oh, this is bad.”

“Shut up! And you, you’re still on thin ice!”

“Come on!”

“Aah! Ari, right there, right there!”

You don't know what happened. You were sure you were gonna play up the card you had found and at least try to act coy for a bit. But before you knew it, you were already here, splayed out on Ari’s breakfast bar and getting eaten out like his last meal.

Ari grunted, gripping the hands on his hair until you let go. Your legs were hooked on his shoulders and when he suddenly stood up, you had no choice but to be half-hanging off of him as he bent you down and nearly split you open for his viewing pleasure.

“You drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”

“I -*hic* – I didn't do anything!” you whined, protesting from the lewd position he put you in.

“Oh, I’m not talking to you sweetheart,” he cooed, pressing a finger into your mouth so you could suckle on it in comfort. “I’m talking to this pretty pussy that got me fucking whipped.”

You moaned from his dirty words.

“Now,” you tried to scream when he suddenly slapped your center with his heavy hands, the force enough to make you squirt out, body nearly bending off the surface if he wasn't there to ground you back with his unmoving body that got wetter and wetter by the second.

He seemed pleased at your reaction.

“I believe my little sweetheart and her cute litte pussy deserve a better apology from me.”

“It wasn’t my intention to lie to you, y’know”

If you were being honest you really weren't mad anymore. It’s not like they made a fool out of you for a tasteless prank. But it was still better to get things straightened out.

He was laying on your stomach, his fingers tracing invisible paths on your body as you played with his hair.

“It’s just … I have a reputation,” you didn't even try to deny it. If you had known who he was at the beginning you doubt you wouldn’t have given him a chance. It was based on pure luck of you being drunk enough to be brave and him approaching you at the right time that had you where you are now. “And, you were so shy and jumpy that I knew better than to use the same old lines and charm on you like I usually do.”

“Aww,” you cooed, gripping his long hair gently to make you look up at him. “You had a crush on me.”

“Shut up, I still remember you passing out from –”

“Alright! I’m sensitive, okay?!” you tried to defend yourself but you only fell into fits of laughter when he pressed harsh kisses on your stomach, his beard rubbing it raw until he was now hovering over you.

Sometimes you forget just how easily you get to disappear in his arms.

“So you like me?” you asked coyly, hands rubbing up the coarse hair on his chest, but he quickly nudged your nose with his  so you looked him in the eyes.

“I like you. A lot,” you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable, not used to being open and raw like this. But you were thankful. “Think you’d wanna be my girl?”

“Hmm,” you pretended about it but you were already laughing with him as he pressed gentle kisses all over your face as if to convince you.

“Only if you ask nicely.”