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atinylittlepain · 5 months

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Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

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The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze.

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers.

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?”

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him.

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.”

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips.

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs.

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at.

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.”

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped.

“You ever used lube before?”

“No, never needed to, I guess.”

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?”

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation.

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?”

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.”

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock.

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan.

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand.

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer.

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets.

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.”

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.”

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth.

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw.

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him.

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy.

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him.

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack.

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both.

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number.

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?”

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her.

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care.

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike angst #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Further to my Pedro Boys Cocktails, and my Javier Peña Special Cocktails, now it's time for some SNL Character Themed Cocktails! 🍹

Again, no measurements are included so you can make them as strong or as weak as you like. Pictures of the cocktails used are for reference, based on what I think they would look like with the ingredients used, but are not verbatim. Go crazy.

Drink responsibly, folks. 🥴

If you make any, please tag me so I can see your tasty creations!🍹

NSFW smack talk below.

Enjoy! 🖤

Check out my Pedro Boys Rambles here.

The 'Mommy Dearest'

Hendriks Gin, grapefruit juice, elderflower liqueur, rosemary sprigs, salty rim & fresh grapefruit slice to garnish. Serve over ice. Not too much salt; you don't want that salty 'tude from Mama Flores to sting... Take your vegan sliders with on your way out.

The 'LA Mush Mouth'

Vodka, peach schnapps, blue curaçao, lemon juice, Sprite/lemonade. Serve over crushed ice. Or in a drip bag hooked to your veins. Wake up from a coma looking incredibly well put together and handsome for someone who was hit by a Party City truck, covered in paaaapah, and proceed with speaking Spaaaanish.

The 'Fancam Fapper'

White Rum, grenadine, strawberry liqueur, lime juice, soda to top. Fresh strawberries and mint leaves to garnish. Stop being a bias and munching on it, and get yourself down to detention where Mr Ben is expecting you to complete your, ahem, extra credit...

The 'Southern Fried Fuck'

Tequila, grenadine, Maraschino liqueur, orange juice, splash of cranberry juice. Orange slices and cherries to garnish. Order fried chicken wings in abundance and dive into a kiddie pool of ranch dip on game day. Just don't expect to get laid after. Games on, innit.

The 'Italian Stallion'

Vodka, Cabernet Sauvignon wine, cranberry juice, simple syrup, lemon juice, frozen blackberries or blueberries to garnish. Ensure you leave a big, generous tip for the waiter whose breath you take away constantly, bella. Hold up, he's on the floor... shit, anyone know CPR?

The 'Shroom Shooter'

Roku Gin, Yuzu juice, Rioja red wine, demerara syrup, lemon juice, 1 egg white to top, frothed. Fresh thyme and cloves/bay leaf. There is a good chance this cocktail might taste like its literally sprouted out of the ground, and won't go down as smoothly as bisexual Toad on Rainbow Road. Might need a power up.

The 'Ginny & Juice'

Tanqueray Gin, Tonic water, orange juice, orange bitters, splash of pink grapefruit juice. Orange slice to garnish and serve over ice. Stare blankly at the quiz master when you don't know the answer. Sink a few of these instead and slump over your buzzer. Game over.

The 'Antonio & Cujo'

Clear Gin, lime juice, Maraschino liqueur, orange bitters, lime slice. Serve over ice. Serve with a slab of well, well, well done steak with ketchup on your date with Antonio Banderas, who's constantly in want of your fine ass. I mean, the man is just kidding himself otherwise... woof.

The 'Cookie Crusher'

Irish Cream liqueur, Goldschlager cinnamon schnapps, butterscotch schnapps, dash of pouring cream. Crushed oatmeal cookies for the rim and to dust on top. Serve over ice. Make sure you the bake the cookies yourself, otherwise Mama Flores won't be happy with you... but her sewing circle will be.

'The Tittywank'

Mezcal, Galliano liqueur, vodka, splash of lemon juice, spiced honey syrup, drizzle of golden honey. Lemon twist to garnish. Drink really quickly without staring like a drooling chimp at that waxed décolletage, and then order a Slippery Nipple. Hand it to Pedro with a straight face and absolutely no innuendo at all. Yo, his eyes are up here, bub.

'Pedro's Purple Rain'

Vodka, blue curaçao, splash of cherry sours, grenadine, cranberry juice, pineapple juice, splash of Sprite/lemonade. Serve over ice. Lemon slice to garnish. Break out some Prince and croon at the top of your voice for Pedro to dance in the Purple Rain with you. Crying optional, but almost guaranteed.

'Made In Chile'

Bergamot Castro liqueur, tequila, chilli syrup, blood orange juice, watermelon juice, splash of lime juice, castor sugar. Fresh or grilled chilli to garnish, serve over crushed ice. A hot spicy drink, for a hot spicy tamale! Raise a toast to Pedro and his fantastic SNL hosting skills this year. Here's to the giggles. And the mouthwash needed after you drink this shit. Salud!

🖤

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal snl #pedro pascal cocktails #jett's pedro boys #pedro pascal characters #miss flores #mr ben snl #wing pit snl #charlie snl #pedro boy cocktails #cocktails #mixology #jett's cocktails

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acocktailmoment · 2 months

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Botanical Blackberry Sage !

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon sugar ½ lime, squeezed 6 blackberries 2 sage leaves 2 ounces tequila 1 ounce triple sec ½ ounce simple syrup‌

Directions:

Rim a margarita glass with lime juice and then sugar.

Add 6 blackberries and 2 sage leaves to a cocktail shaker.

Muddle the blackberries and sage leaves.

Add tequila, triple sec, and simple syrup to the cocktail shaker.

Add a handful of ice.

Place the lid on the shaker and shake for 15 seconds.

Pour out the cocktail into the prepared glass.

Garnish with sage leaves and blackberries before serving.

Courtesy: Jennine Rye

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

#art #design #cocktails #cocktail #cocktail recipes #recipes #drink recipes #drinks #drink #blackberry #sage leaves #tequila #triple sec #syrup #jennine rye #lime

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 2 months

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Natural Satellite [ch 11]

An In Stars and Time AU. In ch 11, Sif & Isa talk to the rest of the party. Loop gets dragged into their mess. You can start from ch 1 here.

“Okay, so." Isabeau clears his throat. "We, uh. We… have something to tell you.” Sif turns to him, aghast. “You didn’t already tell them?” “W-Well!! I’m new to this!! So it didn’t really feel like my place? And, and—and isn’t that what Loop is for?” “Oh, is that what you thought?” Loop lets out a tinkling little laugh. “Oh, Fighter. That’s adorable. But I’m afraid you were mistaken. I’m here for my stardust. Exclusively. Angry mobs are way above my paygrade.” “I wouldn’t say that I'm angry,” Mira says uncertainly. “More… confused?” “I’m vexed, at worst,” M’dame Odile weighs in. “Though I wouldn’t take ‘angry’ off the table.”

Isa gets to Bonnie just a few minutes after you do.

You’d expected him to be noisier than you. Messier. It’s Isa, after all. He’s not an actor or a liar. But he watches you stammer excuses at (a very disoriented) Bonnie without saying a word. His face is pale, his eyes rimmed with red. He must have cried the whole way here. But now that he’s here, he’s gone utterly silent.

* * *

“Sif,” he says hoarsely, when you’re finally strong enough to walk away.

You look at him.

“We can’t keep this a secret anymore.”

“But—”

“Sif,” he says again. He’s pale as a corpse, but there's no hesitation in his voice. “If we couldn’t stop that, then we—we can’t be responsible for this. Not alone. Not if there’s any chance we could do better by telling the others.”

“But they’ll—”

Isa shakes his head. “I-I’m sorry, Sif, but I’m not asking.”

Huh. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Isa put his foot down like this. It’s… disconcerting.

“Okay,” you mumble. Okay, okay, okay, this is—yeah. Yeah. Yes. You can definitely see where he’s coming from. If you can’t even protect Bonnie, then what are you good for? “Okay, I—”

You hesitate. You know it’s what you deserve, but… you don’t want them to hate you.

“…You really want to tell them everything?”

“I mean, yeah? Yes.”

Like it’s that simple.

For Isabeau, it probably is. He just got here. He’s not the one who’s been lying to his famil— to his allies for months and months and months of the same miserable day. Taking their trust and forging it into a blade to swing at them.

You clear your throat. “How?”

“We don’t really need a game-plan, do we? Surely we can just… talk? To our friends? Like normal people?”

Ha ha. Of course. Like normal people.

Isabeau’s head tilts. “How would you go about it?”

Well. You already know how you’d go about it, because it literally just happened, like, three loops ago. You’d just foist it off on Loop.

“Ohhh,” Isa realizes. “You’d make Loop do it.”

“...Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, though,” he says seriously. “They’re part of this too.”

Ah. Well. The only problem with that is, if you show up at Loop’s tree with your entire party in tow, you’re pretty sure that they might actually kill you. To get out of the conversation, if not just to be petty. “Um. I think I maybe have to warn them first.”

“Okay! Yeah, that makes sense! So you’ll go warn Loop, and I’ll talk to the others.”

Hm. That doesn’t sound so bad. It gets you out of talking to the others. And there’s no one easier to talk to than Loop. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Okay!!!” Isa musters the briefest flicker of a smile. “Then I’ll— Or, I guess, we’ll see you at the Favor Tree.”

* * *

When you get to their Tree, Loop is nowhere to be found. But you traveled alone for years before you fell in with the best chef cooker in Vaugarde. You know how to track prey.

They didn’t have time to go far. Just a short stretch down the hillside, across a stream and behind a thicket of… blackberries, you think, though it’s hard to tell out of season.

You find Loop sitting on a tree stump, drumming their heels against the trunk.

“There you are.”

You’d expected a reaction. A flicker of surprise, at least. But when Loop looks up, their face is utterly resigned. They hold their stare for just long enough to spike your anxiety before turning away. “Haha. Yes, well. Here I am.”

“Um. We were… Or, I mean.” You scuff your feet in the dirt. “I… wanted to introduce you to my friends?”

“Oh, did you???” Loop asks brightly. “Fascinating!!! Because—and do forgive my ignorance—from where I’m sitting, it looks like you wanted to keep me to yourself until you had an ugly job you didn’t want to deal with.”

Ah. Well. Yes. That is technically also true. “But—”

“No!!!” Their face flares so bright that you can’t even see their glare. Then they let out their breath and the brilliance recedes, leaving you blinking the spots out of your eyes. “No. I don’t care. I’m not here to clean up your messes! I’m not interested and I’m not going, so don’t bother asking.”

You don’t bother asking. You’ll carry them the whole way if you have to. If you’re really going to tell your family about how you’ve been manipulating them this entire time, you are absolutely not going to do it alone.

“No,” they breathe, eyes widening, as you drop into a fighting stance. “No, come on, be reasonable—”

A half-second later, you collide with their chest like something launched out of a trebuchet.

“Excuse me!!!!” Loop sputters, clawing at your arms. “Are you a wild animal?? Did no one ever teach you how to argue like a normal blinding person??”

“You said not to ask.”

They try to twist free but you’ve got them backed against a tree, so there’s nowhere to go.

“We don’t have to fight about this,” you inform them. “Just come with me.” In your honest opinion, they’re being a little ridiculous. It’s not like it’s Loop that everyone’s going to hate. The only villain in this story is you.

You dig your elbow a little deeper into their throat, just to drive the point home.

Loop gives you a saccharine smile. “Aww. Did you really think I had to breathe?”

They hoist themself off the ground with both hands and slam their heels into your chest, knocking you back into the leaf litter. Before you can scramble out of reach, they’re already on you.

“You’re being sooooo~ stupid about this,” they purr. “You think dragging me into your mess will help you? No. No. You’re a joke to me. Your logic is a joke. And, stardust~~? If you bring those puppets here, I swear on all the Stars, I will kill them. Oh, they’ll come back!” they add, with a tinkling little giggle. “But you’ll remember. You’ll know what you did.”

“Why???”

“None of your business!!!”

When they shift their weight to get a better angle, you slip a foot around their ankle and hook your knee around their hip and flip them on their back. Loop takes the time to wink at you before spitting sparks in your eyes, taking advantage of your momentary blindness to slam their elbow into your nose. You hear something crr-rnch. The impact rings in your ears, floods your mouth with copper. When they twist around to gain the advantage, you're too dizzy to stop them.

You’re still tussling blind when you hear your name.

“Sif?” It’s Isa’s voice, muffled by the trees. “Loop? Are you guys there?”

You open your mouth to answer but before you can get a word out, Loop stuffs their whole hand in your mouth. You bite down, hard. Viscous fluid spills down your chin, fizzes on your tongue.

“Ow!!! Are you a rabid dog???”

You bare your teeth at them. “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult!!”

“Aaaahhhahahahhhha! Of course you don’t!! How could you!?”

“You could tell me!!”

They lean in even closer, slamming their forehead against yours. “Learn to read between the lines!!!”

You try to flip them over but it’s like they know all the same tricks, only better. You’re still scrabbling for purchase when they slide your knife out of its sheath and press the blade to the side of your throat, right where you always make the cut. You take care of your tools. It barely takes any force at all to slice through cartilage and bone.

“Do it,” you taunt. “I'll be back in five minutes.” You could do this for days. Weeks. It’s a nice change of pace. And it’s exhilarating.

“You think I won't?” Tracing your jugular with the point of your blade.

“Then do it.”

Loop presses down harder, till you feel the characteristic sting of breaking skin. Warmth trickles down your neck. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

“Would you?”

Loop digs the knife in deeper. “I can think of nothing I’d like more.”

Maybe you shouldn’t understand that, but you do. You don’t like getting killed by the King. You don’t like getting crushed by the rock-trap or carved open by a Sadness, but you don’t think you’d mind getting killed by Loop. Loop knows you. They’d know what it meant. It wouldn’t feel any different than dying by your own hand.

“Loop,” you breathe, as they lean in closer.

“Stardust~~?”

“Are we gonna kiss?”

Loop jerks back like they’ve been burned.

“What is wrong with you???” They give you a revolted glare before flitting to their feet and brushing themself off, still shuddering. “Stars above, you are such a little narcissist!!”

“Like you’re one to talk,” you snort, reaching up to pluck the last few leaves still lodged in the miasma of their surface.

Loop huffs a bitter laugh. “What do you need me for, anyway? They’re not going to trust a—” Their face tightens. “A total stranger. Not everyone’s as stupid as you, teehee!”

“But you’re better at explaining.”

“That’s why?” Loop tries and fails to hold back a startled little giggle. “There’s not even anything to explain!! ‘We’re stuck in a time loop.’ There, I wrote the whole script for you.”

“But you’re…” You don’t know how to say it. What did Isa say, again? “You’re… part of this? You’re here, too.”

Loop turns away. “Haha. Well. I guess I am.”

* * *

When you stagger back to your Tree, you’re both worse for the wear. Your surface is cracked and pockmarked, void-fluid and starlight seeping through the seams. Your stardust, of course, is leaking much more conventional blood. It’s drying in the corners of his mouth, in the creases of his eyes. You can see it dripping from a deep gash in their forehead. (You don’t feel sorry. You don’t.)

The Fighter takes one look and does a ridiculous, cartoonish double-take. “W-Woah!!! What the crab happened to you guys??”

“Just a friendly conversation,” you say sunnily.

To your surprise, your stardust nods. “That’s right.”

You can read the rest of ch 11 here: ao3.org/works/53412649/chapters/138439021 Or start from the beginning here: ao3.org/works/53412649/chapters/135189547

#in stars and time #isat loop #isat siffrin #isat isabeau #isat au #isafrin #sloops #isat spoilers

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

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A/N ::: Here is the second part of my Throwing Down the Gauntlet stuff. Series? Idk. Anyway, if you're here for the smut, hold tight. We'll get there.

C/W ::: Angst, broken heart f!reader, language. I think that's it. I read this 243983489 times. But it's like, when you see the words but they don't really absorb into your brain? It was like that. So if I missed anything awful, lemme know, please! Hope you guys like Part II. Thanks!

WC ::: Just under 1,120

Part I ___ Part III ___ Part IV ___ Part V ___ Part VI ___ Part VII

PART II

On the way to the coffee shop across town, you thought about how going there is only a delicacy now. It used to be that you'd grab something several days a week on your way to work when you lived here. On weekends you and Kats would walk over there and get something if you fell asleep the night before without thinking - or caring - to set up the coffee.

Nights like that you'd drift off tangled up in each other's limbs. Coffee was the last thing on your mind. You had to smile a little bit at how coffee-centric your lives were. But the ease of the warm memory faded the closer you got to your old neighborhood.

Everywhere you looked held some story the two of you shared inside the life you built.

The park down the street was where you had your first picnic date.

The corner store was where he bought you your favorite candy on Valentine's Day because he wasn't able to get you anything else. He had to work that day and everything was closed by the time he got off. You still have the wrapper from that. Stuck away in a shoebox that holds so many other perfect moments that you'd successfully frozen in time.

The little deli you two had brunch at often for the past 2 years was where he handed you a little black velvet box with the key to his place inside of it. It was a Sunday that he asked you to move in. You said yes immediately and sat on his lap to kiss his smiling lips. You remember the taste of sugar-rimmed blackberry mint mimosa on his tongue as it slipped past your smiling lips.

You drove past all of that and pulled up to his building. He still hasn't changed his code to get into the lobby. You wondered if he ever would. If he would trust you to hold onto that ridiculous secret.

His apartment was on the 5th floor. The elevator ride up was agonizingly slow. There was a part of you that hoped it would just plummet to the basement/storage level. You got so lost in your little fantasy of being taken out of your misery that when it did stop, your heart leapt up into your throat and your hands reached out for anything to find safety on. But there was nothing. There was no one.

The elevator door opened and you fantasized him standing there holding his cell, scrolling through old pictures of the both of you. And suddenly he looks up and sees you there in his clothes. He falls at your feet and begs you for a second chance. To please give 'you' another chance. As if each of your souls belonged to the other and it was just the merged one from the moment the first 'I love you' had been confessed.

Walking up to his front door, you felt your body tense up. Like it was protecting you from what you were about to walk into. Your hand reached out for the doorknob, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn it. It was like everything stopped. Like something was waiting for you to come to a decision that you had no intention of making. Especially by yourself.

You sighed, pushed it open and pulled out the key. You took a deep breath in and looked around, tapping the little piece of metal that weighed more in your hand than every sorrow you'd ever endured.

Everything seemed to be exactly the same as you left it. The throw pillows he let you put on the oversized couch were still fluffed against the armrests.

The ficus stood tall and healthy in the corner you both agreed on. "They get pissy if you move them around too much. We’ll have to pick one spot and leave it there." You told him.

“So it's basically a tree version of you?" He retorted, without a moment's hesitation.

Tears began to pool in your lash line. You thought about all of this; being here. The time that you're here now, alone, felt a lot like it was your day off and he would be home anytime between 6 and 6:15.

He'd come through the door and call for you to come kiss him hello. These memories were slowly making you crash in on yourself. It hurt so much that your time here was now finite.

The bedroom was the last room you went into. It was the last room you wanted to go into. You didn't want to see your side of the bed empty. Worse yet, you didn't want to see his side of the bed - period. It somehow hurt more to know that his side would be filled when he got home. But yours would - "Oh god, oh fuck."

You started to breathe heavily. Dare you say it, you were close to hyperventilating. The thought of someone else laying on your side of the bed brought everything to a screeching halt. You couldn't take a step forward or backward. Your feet were locked into place on the floor. The rug had become a huge piece of Velcro and the soles of your feet were the other half to the grabby, scratchy loops.

Deep down, you knew that the only way to get over this was to face it. So, you did. You walked up to your side of the bed, and stared down at it. It was some fucked up form of exposure therapy if you’d ever seen one. Staring down at the place you'd slept for the last 3 years of your life, you tried to stay composed.

But as you sat down and pulled out your phone, you couldn't hold back the tears - again. They came pouring down your cheeks, soaking your clothes as they fell to your knees. You dialed 9 of the 10 numbers needed to reach him and waited for your better judgment to kick in before you made the mistake of pressing the last digit.

"Any ... time, y/n. Don't … don't do it. Calling him isn't going to fix anything. He told you to get your shit and go. Leave the ke- the key." Your words were coming out as shaky as your breathing was.

You opened your hand and saw just how tightly you'd been squeezing the key. It was symbolic how the shape of it was almost a part of your flesh. The shape was a part of you now, if only for a little while. If you put it down, it would disappear. You'd no longer know that comfort of having immediate access to the one place you actually felt you belonged.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

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digitalesleben · 6 months

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Tag 15: Smartphone Herrlichkeit abseits von iPhones

Wenn man heute den Smartphone Markt sieht, dann nimmt man nur noch Apples iOS und Googles Android wahr. Es hat aber mit Windows Mobile, Palms Treo und Pre, und mit Blackberrys von RIM noch andere Konkurrenten gegeben. Wo sind diese geblieben?

Der fünfzehnte Beitrag in meiner Reihe von Beiträgen zur Neugestaltung der Ausstellung in meinem Computermuseum. Heute und an weiteren 18 Tagen stelle ich die Zusammenstellung meiner Ausstellungsstücke vor. Das iPhone hat den Smartphone-Markt revolutioniert. Windows Mobile und HTC sind total verschwunden. Auch webOS von Palm hat nicht überlebt, trotz Übernahme durch HP. Und schließlich ist auch…

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#BlackBerry #HP #HTC #Lumia #microsoft #Nokia #Nokia Lumia #Palm #Palm Pre #Palm Treo #RIM #WebOS #Windows Mobile

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sweethoneyrose83 · 6 months

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Vanny's Shadow Punch

Ingredients:

1.5 oz Black vodka

0.5 oz Blue curaçao

1 oz Blackberry liqueur

2 oz Cranberry juice

Crushed ice

Black sugar (for rimming the glass)

Blackberries for garnish

Instructions:

Rim a cocktail glass with black sugar by moistening the rim with a lime wedge and dipping it into the sugar.

Fill the glass with crushed ice.

In a shaker, combine the black vodka, blue curaçao, blackberry liqueur, and cranberry juice.

Shake well and strain the mixture into the prepared glass over the crushed ice.

Garnish with a few blackberries on a skewer for a sinister touch.

#five nights at freddy's #pizzaparty #video game #fnaf vanny #vanny fnaf #glitchtrap #security breach vanny #fnaf glitchtrap

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balkanradfem · 1 year

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I finally made a dandelion basket that I’m completely happy with! It’s tiny but firm, I managed to control the colors on the bottom, and the rim looks great! And it got a little cord handle.

I need to wait until all of the blackberry bramble dries, and then I can go make bigger baskets for foraging. This is not a fast paced hobby.

I tried to make an ivy basket, but regardless of how long I soaked it or waited for it to be pliable, it kept snapping on me. I think I took home some very old and gnarly ivy, and I should have collected some younger, thinner vines. I quit trying to use it in a basket, and decided it would make a wreath, for which it needs less bending. I did bring home a new batch of ivy so I’ll try again!

#dandelion basket #basketry #wild basketry #weaving #twining #decorative basket #i'm still mixing it up with the corn husk because my dandelions are all too think to be spokes #thats also why i can't make a tall one #corn husk spokes are not long enough

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atinylittlepain · 5 months

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PART TWO

marcus pike x f!reader

no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man - read part one tho it's fun

warnings | 18+ smut, sucking and fucking and also angst, mentions of sex work, marcus is a freak ass sugar daddy with a cunty lil blackberry and a bmw vroom vroom

note: this is OLD, this is from the ARCHIVE, leave me alone and also i love you muah kiss for you

@idolatrybarbie come get your juice

....................................

People are staring. Backpacks held in slack hands, necks craned around to catch a glimpse of the beemer pulled up at the curb outside the library, sleek silver rims glinting in the afternoon light. But it’s the man leaning up against the side of the car that’s really piquing people’s interest.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” A kiss to her cheek before his lips catch hers, a quick smack that she doesn’t let deepen under so many watchful eyes.

“Hi, Marcus, thank you for picking me up, but you could’ve just met me at my apartment, it’s no big deal.” He scoffs at that, his aviators slipping down his nose as he squints at her.

“You know I don’t like you riding public transportation, it’s not–” She cuts him off with another kiss, rubbing her palm up and down the lapel of his suit jacket.

“Not safe, I know. But I’ve been getting around just fine on the bus for a while now and I’ve yet to get murdered. So I don’t think you have to worry about it.” He chuckles, pressing his sunglasses back up before opening the passenger side door for her, all ease as he leans over the top of the door to steal one more kiss as she ducks into the BMW.

Things have been different, and good, since she met Marcus. She had been a bit surprised when he called only a few hours after he dropped her off at her apartment that morning.

“Do I look like a complete dope calling you this soon?”

“I kinda like it actually. You aren’t one to play games, huh?” A laugh crackling over the phone and a sigh.

“I guess I have a bit of a one-track mind. When I want something I gotta go after it– and I just sounded like a total tool saying that, didn’t I?”

“Coming from anyone else, I’d say yes. But I think you’re a little too sweet to really be a tool. So, are you gonna ask me out or what?” Another laugh, her smile broadening at the sound.

“You’re gonna be the boss here, aren’t you?”“Count on it, babe.”

It’s been a little over a month since he called, and they’ve been seeing each other a lot, enough for her to have learned a considerable amount more about Marcus Pike. First and foremost, he’s a romantic, almost painfully so, flowers and good morning texts, dates to the arthouse theater to see classic movies about love triumphant, followed by meals at restaurants that could wipe her rent money for the month with one main course. That’s the second thing she’s learned about him, he likes to take care of her. It had started innocently enough, after the first time he took her to one of those aforementioned swanky restaurants and she expressed concern that she had stuck out like a sore thumb in the upscale space, it feeling impossible for her to dress nice enough to fit in. He had her in the BMW and on the way to a trail of boutiques before she could even protest, and she ended that day with an overwhelming number of shopping bags, tufts of tissue paper stamped with the names of brands she had never dreamed of buying for herself. And it had only escalated from there, from meals out to fresh sets of paint and easels to jewelry dripping in silver and gold, infamous powder blue boxes with satin white bows that always reveal something fit to make her head spin it’s so dazzling. And today is no different, a gift waiting for her on the plush leather of the passenger seat, Marcus glancing at her as he weaves through DC traffic, trying to catch her reaction when she opens it.

“Oh my god, Marcus. It’s– it’s so lovely. It must have cost a fortune, though. I couldn’t possibly–” He cuts her off with a light squeeze to her thigh where his palm is curled, lips crooking in a grin though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“Don’t worry about that. Just wanted to get you something nice. And I was thinking you could wear it tonight to dinner, if you like it?” How this man manages to thread confidence with his shyness is still beyond her, an endearing combination that only makes her want to figure him out more. She leans over the console, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before settling back down in her seat.

“I love it and I’d love to wear it tonight. Thank you.” She holds the bracelet up, letting it catch the fading afternoon light, a perfect string of diamonds glinting and glaring in the sun. It’s the same dance every time, she says she couldn’t possibly, and he tells her she absolutely can, and then she ends up with something shiny and expensive around her wrist, her neck, dangling from her earlobes, or flickering on her fingers. All she can figure is that whatever higher-up government type he is, he must be really really high up to be throwing money around like this.

“I’ll be back down in a minute, just need to grab my bag and then I’m all yours.” It’s Memorial Day weekend, three whole days off for the both of them, and Marcus has asked her to spend it all with him, something she was more than happy to agree to.

She pauses for a moment in her bathroom, swiping quick knuckles under her eyes, her week of exams showing in the dark circles resting there, and the late nights at the club certainly aren’t helping either. It’s a touchy subject for them, for him, and she knows it. She tries to reassure him that it’s just business, good money, but it hadn’t been just business with him, and she understands why he always gets a bit stiff when she mentions that she has a shift.

“All set?” She hums an mmhmm, Marcus taking her bag from her to tuck into the trunk before they get on their way to his place.

Logan Circle, one of the trendiest neighborhoods in DC, beautiful brownstones framed by sleepy-looking trees and winding parks. It had caught her off guard the first time he brought her over to his place, leading her by the hand up the steps of one of those brownstones, all twining ivy and high-arched windows, all his. He had offered her a sheepish grin and a shrug when she had quirked her eyebrows at him, explaining it away as one of the perks from the Bureau.

She still feels a bit out of place amongst the sleek, dark wood, though he’s quick to distract her from it with a warm palm on her back and an easy smile.

“Reservation’s at seven so we have a little time to rest up if that sounds good to you?” His hands thread together around her waist, pulling her close enough to lay a kiss to her forehead.

“Is this your very nice way of telling me I look tired?” That’s another thing she’s learned about him, just how easy it is to throw him off, make him blush, a nervous laugh bubbling up in his chest.

“No, I just know how hard you’ve been working lately to get your school year wrapped up and– and at the club–” She gives him a look that he knows means don’t start. He had brought it up last week over the phone, when she couldn’t say yes to dinner plans because of a shift at Pandora’s.

“Well what if– what if you didn’t have to work anymore?”

“That’d be amazing, and while we’re at it, I’d also like a unicorn. It’s just not a possibility for me right now, Marc, I’m sorry.”

“But what if it was a possibility? I mean, what if I–”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I have a pretty good idea actually. And my answer is no. Thank you, Marcus, really, but I’m not letting you spend any more money on me than you already are. I’m a big girl, baby, I can handle myself.”

He had let out a huff at that, but had begrudgingly let it go, though he has been dropping hints all week about his discontent with how much she’s still working, subtle, but prickly. But he holds his tongue now, smile simpering beneath his scruff as she slips her palms from his chest up to twine behind his neck.

“What I really want right now is a long shower. I feel like I’m covered in goo from the kids I was working with today.” His smile broadens at that, one of his hands slipping up to ghost along her collarbone

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but–” He gently scrapes his thumbnail along the top of her sternum, bringing away flecks of dried paint that she groans at.

“Oh my god, how did I miss that? I swear, these practicum hours make me rethink my career choice every time.” It’s an easy moment, a sigh and a smile shared that’s abruptly interrupted by his phone ringing, shoulders slumping as he reaches into his suit pocket to pull out his thrumming Blackberry, offering her a sheepish smile when he checks the caller ID before answering it.

“This is Agent Pike.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw before slipping out of his hold as he starts talking quietly to whoever it is on the other end of the phone, showing herself upstairs with her bag in hand. She knows her way around by now, padding into his bedroom, only a little surprised by the garment bag laid out on his bed, shoebox resting on the ground next to it.

Just a peek, she unzips the garment bag, letting her hand run over the fabric inside, and quickly realizes that wherever they’re going to dinner tonight must be fancy, black silk slipping underneath her palm. She’ll have to scold him for it later, but for now, she’s too focused on washing off whatever little kid shmutz she managed to pick up during the day, making a beeline for his bathroom to get the water warmed up.

She groans when she steps under the warm water, sore muscles unraveling with the heat. There had been a few clients this week who had been particularly physical, and she’s certainly feeling it now. It’s rare for her to have to end a session early, most clients respectful and happy to follow the club’s rules, but one man in particular had obviously not been interested in being compliant, so much so that she had to call her boss in to escort him off the premises. She hadn’t been too phased by it though, just pissed more than anything else. But she’s been doing this for long enough to not let these things affect her, letting the majority of her good, easy to work with clients drown out the rare rotten one. And it isn’t like she’s going to be doing this for much longer either. One more year of school and she’ll be able to trade in her time at the club for a teaching license and a much different life.

“Did that happen at work?” She all but jumps out of her skin, Marcus’ voice startling her out of her thoughts as she turns to find him slipping into the shower with her, his bareness still sending her mind into a sweet haze. But she’s quick to snap out of it when his hand brushes over the bruise blooming on her thigh, his brow furrowing even more when she winces at the sensation.

“Oh, that? Um, yeah, but it’s no big deal, someone just got a little too worked up, that’s all.” He doesn’t like that one bit, his jaw shifting in a grind as he looks at her.

“Is it– are you ok?” She offers him a smile, tugging him closer so she can slip her palms over his chest, his hands settling on the curve of her waist.

“I’m fine, Marc, I promise. No harm, no foul.”

“Looks like harm to me.” He says it absentmindedly, his eyes still trained on the bruise, words a low murmur, his nostrils flaring as he takes a sharp inhale.

“Hey, I said I’m fine, alright? Let’s get cleaned up, babe, don’t worry about it.” She knows it’s a bit of a move, leaning in for a kiss that she easily deepens, trying to steer his mind away from worry and succeeding when she coaxes a little groan out of him with the way she tugs at his hair. But he’s not interested in pulling away too soon, licking hotly into her mouth, swallowing the gasp she lets out when her back meets the cold tile of the shower, a heady contrast to the way his body presses against her, slick and warm in the rising steam. He’s certainly gotten more confident with her, and while she likes this side of him, wandering hands and hard kisses, it’s the shyness that still peeks through that makes her heart flip in her chest.

“Wanna taste you. Can I, please?” She slicks his wet mop of hair back out of his face, a smile crooking across her lips as she nods.

“Mmhmm, I’m all yours. Want you to make me feel good.” She hadn’t been expecting him to drop down to his knees right then and there, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in her chest when he does, his hands holding her firm and steady by her hips as he lays open-mouthed kisses across her stomach. But that laugh fizzles out when he dips his head lower, letting his mouth drag over the bruise on her thigh, making her cry out when he presses a hard kiss to it, like he’s trying to stamp it out with his lips. He doesn’t linger there long, laying a much sweeter kiss over the mottled skin before letting his mouth slide up to where she really wants him.

…

“Can you do me up?” She watches him in the mirror as he steps behind her, a low hum in his throat as he slips the zipper of her dress up. It’s perfect, classy, a smooth, simple slip that rests just at her shins and practically drips off the curves of her body it fits so well. He always gets it right, and she’s always surprised that he does.

“You look beautiful. And I have one thing to add.” She catches the glint of it in the mirror, his hands arcing over her head to bring the delicate necklace to rest against her clavicle. A string of diamonds that matches her bracelet. Before she can say anything, he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, his hands dropping down to smooth over her hips.

“Look like a million bucks, baby.”

“I better not be wearing a million bucks right now.” She says it jokingly, but when he doesn’t respond, only quirking an eyebrow at her, she turns in his hold with a scoff.

“Marcus, I swear to god, if you–”

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry about the cost, huh? Just think of it as a little– end of the school year gift, that’s all.” All she can do is let out a sigh, getting to work on his loose tie as he looks down through his lashes at her. He looks like a million bucks too, sleek, black suit over a crisp button-up, the scent of his cologne wrapping her up as she shimmies his tie into place.

“Well, thank you for the gifts. If your goal is to spoil me completely rotten, I’d say you’re succeeding.” His smile turns into a grin at that, stealing a quick kiss as she smooths down the collar of his shirt.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now c’mon, knowing you, you probably worked right through lunch and are starving right now. Let’s get some dinner in you.”

…

“Please follow me this way, Mr. and Mrs. Pike, your table is ready for you.” She nearly chokes at what the waiter calls them, though Marcus takes it in stride, offering her a smile and shrug as he guides her further into the restaurant with a palm on her low back.

She was right, it’s fancy as hell, all dim lights and rich, wood tables, men in suits and their wives decked out in their finest. And it only dawns on her that they fit right in once they’re actually seated at their own table, her eyes glancing around at this strange game of adult dress-up.

“We’ll do a bottle of your Riesling and one of your Shiraz as well, thank you.” White for her, red for him, he doesn’t even have to look at the menu to put in the order, and she can’t figure out just why that’s so hot.

“Did you hear about that new installment coming downtown? They’re calling it a revival of abstract expressionism meets modern minimalism. Apparently it’s hot.” She grins at the dramatic wag of his eyebrows as he speaks, leaning in closer to respond.

“I hadn’t heard about that, no. Sounds like whoever it is, they’re trying to do it all. We’ll have to go check it out, huh?” An outsider looking in on their relationship would be hard pressed to figure out just why they mesh well together, a decade apart and coming from two completely different worlds. But they come together well in peculiar ways, art being one of them. Marcus could talk for hours about the history, styles and forms rising and falling with time, and she can too, while also applying it all in her own work as a painter, something that he loves to hear her talk about, her process and projects. She’s still not sure why he’s so well-versed in it all, with such a keen eye, especially given her very vague understanding of his work as some sort of big wig FBI boss, but she loves that they can talk like this about something that bores most of her friends. They’ve gone out gallery hopping a few times together and, grand gestures and fancy dinners aside, it’s probably her favorite thing to do with him, wandering around downtown and seeing whatever art they can find.

Dinner starts to pass languidly by as they slip into conversation about the new gallery opening, unfurling into her own projects that she’s hoping to submit for showings once they’re finished. But as dessert is laid before them and her attention is drawn away from Marcus for a moment, her eyes land on someone across the restaurant, and her stomach sinks. While Marcus thanks the waiter, she can’t take her eyes off the man across the room, sitting with his wife, wearing the same suit he had on when he came into the club earlier that week, the same suit he left in when her boss kicked him out for not following the rules. And in a sickening twist, his eyes meet hers, an all too clear flash of recognition behind the smug grin that spreads across his face.

“Are you ok?” Marcus’ voice snaps her attention back to him and she tries to coax a smile onto her face, though she can’t help the way her eyes jerk over his shoulder and back to the man who’s still staring her down. And when she gives him no answer, Marcus finally cranes his neck around to see just what it is she keeps looking at.

“Do you– do you know him?” He looks back over his shoulder at the man who has finally stopped staring now that it’s caught Marcus’ attention. But before she can make some sort of excuse up, Marcus’ face falls in clear realization.

“Oh, I see. He’s one of your clients, isn’t he?”

“Fortunately, not anymore, he’s not.” It comes out before she can even think to stop herself, something dark flashing across Marcus’ face at her words.

“Are you telling me he’s the one who did that to you?” She doesn’t need an explanation to know what he means when he says that, her hand subconsciously going to rest over her thigh where the bruise lies beneath her dress. She feels frozen in place, her mind going blank as Marcus stares at her, his jaw hard-set and his eyes swimming. And when she gives him no response, he scoffs, turning in his seat, clearly ready to get up and march across the restaurant to where the man and his wife are just getting up to leave.

“Marc, don’t. Just– for me, please, don’t.” She wills him to stay in his seat with her hand placed over his on the table, letting out a sigh when he ultimately turns back around with a huff.

Total silence and downturned eyes, he’s quick to get the check and get them on their way back to his house. A cold prickle runs up her spine as they drive when his hand that normally rests easy and warm on her thigh remains on the wheel, not even a glance her way, his jaw ticking with what she can only assume is anger. And when they do get back to his place, and the silence continues, Marcus going into the kitchen to fix himself a drink without so much as looking at her, she assumes that it’s finally become too much for him, that she had been stupid to think this could work. She quickly and quietly slips into his bedroom, first placing her shoes back in the wrapping-paper-lined box before unfastening her bracelet and necklace and laying them on his dresser, though she figures they were never really hers to begin with. Her bag next, tucking back inside the things she had already unpacked before getting to work on the zipper of her dress.

“What are you doing?” She turns to find him standing in the doorway, lips parted and brow furrowed, and suddenly a thick heat creeps up her throat, stealing any strength from her voice.

“I thought I should probably go.” His face scrunches up at that and he steps further into the room, closing the distance between them, though he hesitates to reach for her, his hands flexing by his sides.

“What do you– what do you mean go? Where are you going?”

“Home, Marcus, I’m going home. I understand if this is too much–”

“That’s not– it’s not too much. I just– I hate it, ok? I really fucking hate it.” His tone is sharp, clipped, an edge of frustration that she hasn’t heard from him before and it makes her pause before asking him the only thing she can think of.

“My work? That’s what you mean? You hate my work?” He drags a hand through his hair, letting out a hard exhale as he shakes his head.

“I mean– yes. I hate that you have to put up with shit like that, with men like that. I hate that I lie in bed at night wondering what you’re doing and what person you’re doing it with, or to– fuck, I hate all of it. But I think what I hate the most is that you feel like you have to do it. And you’re too proud to let me get you out of it, something that I would be beyond elated to do, by the way.” Finished with his rant, he lets out a bitter laugh, the sound only fueling the anger she feels rising like bile in her throat.

“Oh, so what? Your solution is for you to just swoop in and– and play the fucking hero? Are you gonna put me on retainer, Marcus? Is that your plan? Just throw money at me so I’ll fucking stick around?” It’s awful, poison on her tongue that she doesn’t even mean, not really, and when he looks at her, face stricken and eyes glistening, any fire fizzles out into a sad whimper in her throat.

“Is that really what you think of me? That I’m just, what? Trying to buy you?” She keeps her mouth pressed in a thin line, afraid of what might come spilling out if she doesn’t, watching him slump down on the edge of the bed with a tired laugh.

“I just want to take care of you, that’s it. And I have the means to do it and fuck, I’m sorry if that comes across as me throwing money at you. But this is what I know how to do. I can take care of you, and I want to, and I wish that you’d let me.” Silence settles between them, thick and formless. Looking at him, his face tilted down to his hands in his lap, the curve of his frown, she feels herself being tugged toward something that, deep down, she knows is a terrible idea.

Barefoot, her half-unzipped dress hanging loosely on her shoulders, she pads over to him, standing between his legs, though he doesn’t look up until she coaxes him with her palm tucked along his jaw.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. That wasn’t fair, what I said. I just– I need you to try to understand this from my perspective. If I did– if I let you take care of me like that, I couldn’t help but feel trapped, and I’m sorry, I know that’s a terrible thing to say, but it has to be said. I’d feel like you’d have this– this thing hanging over my head and–” “I would never hold anything against you. That’s not how I work, and this isn’t some game to me. Fuck, I think you’re brilliant, alright? And I want you, so badly. I want you safe, and not having to worry about all this shit. I want you with me.”

“But what happens when you don’t want me anymore? What happens when I’ve quit my job and I’m dependent on you and one day you decide that you’re done with this, with me? What happens when the floor falls out from under me, Marc?”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” She can’t help the scoff she lets out, her hand falling away from his face as she takes a few steps back.

“That’s really easy to say right now, but one day this isn’t all going to be so new. What happens–” He cuts her off, standing up and taking her face in his hands, his eyes clear with a confidence that makes her shiver.

“If that time comes when either of us want to walk away, you have my word that I will make sure you land on your feet. I wouldn’t let you fall like that, I wouldn’t do that to you.” They’re nice words, words she wants to believe, though she can’t shake that feeling in her stomach like she’s about to go into complete free-fall.

“I’m asking you to trust me, that’s all.”

“That’s a lot, Marc.” His thumb is a soothing arc along her cheek, and she feels that same pull toward whatever this brink is that she’s about to tip over with him.

“I know, fuck, I know. But if you let me, I will give you everything, anything you want, anything you need. I just need you to trust me.” There’s nothing but certainty in his expression, and although there’s a part of her that wants to step away, to get out before she’s tangled up, she chooses not to listen to it, instead stepping over that edge and sending them both spiraling as she closes the space between them and presses her lips to his.

Where he deals in diamonds and dresses and dollars, care of a particular kind, she holds sway in sweat and skin and sensation, a delicate balance of power held in each other’s palms. Here, now, in the dim light of his bedroom, she holds dominion, no permission needed for the way her hands coax his tie undone, his jacket off, layer upon layer removed as she wills it. And when he finally stands before her in just his briefs, she guides his hands to the straps of her dress, letting him do the rest as the sleek fabric slips into a puddle around her feet. It never gets old, the way he looks at her, how his eyes darken, flickering heavy and hooded over her body, the way his throat bobs when his gaze finally finds hers.

“Could you– will you, um, will you wear those, for me?” He nods his head over to his dresser, to where she had laid out the jewelry he gave her, and she finds herself smiling at his timid request.

“Why don’t you put them back on me, baby?” He does, first clasping the bracelet around her wrist, laying a kiss to the jump of her pulse before delicately laying the necklace against her sternum, the cool bite of the chain causing her to shiver as he takes a step back to look at her, now dressed in nothing but a pair of panties and those glittering gifts.

“Lay down for me.” His eyes don’t leave her as he does, catching every move as she slips her panties down her legs before crawling up the bed to settle in his lap, her thighs framing his hips. It’s smooth and simple, a call and response in the way he tilts his chin up to meet her dipping down, open mouths willing and receiving of what the other is giving, a hot press of tongues and teeth. She grinds her hips down hard, letting the slick heat of her cunt drag over his boxers, his cock already straining against the fabric.

“Tell me what you want, baby, and it’s all yours.” She seals her words with a nip of her teeth over the hinge of his jaw, smiling against his skin when he lets out a long sigh as she continues to roll her hips with his.

“Just want you, fuck, wanna feel you, wanna be inside you, please.” Her smile goes cheshire bright at his breathless words, and she lets her hands slip down to drag along the waistband of his boxers.

“Always so polite for me, Marcus. Love that about you, gonna give you what you want.” A tap of her fingers to his hip is all he needs to shift so she can shrug his boxers down his legs, his cock resting flushed and heavy against his stomach as she settles herself back in a straddle over his hips, hovering just over where he really wants her. She can only tease him so much when she wants him just as bad as he wants her, so she wastes no time in bringing her palm to his throbbing length, dragging the tip of him through her dripping cunt before sinking down on him in one, languid, stretch. They both let out sighs that slip into moans as she stills with her hips seated against his, his fingers tensing and flexing into the curve of her ass where his hands are splayed. Still settling into the feel of him, a fullness that makes her head swim, she lays a smattering of kisses into his hair, coaxing his face up from where he had his forehead pressed against her sternum, his lips finding hers in a hot drag as she starts to move her hips.

It starts slow and sweet, finding an easy rhythm of riding him that has them both sighing at the slick drag. Marcus dips his head down, mouthing at the tops of her breasts, making her gasp when his teeth graze over the peak of one of her nipples, her back arching into his touch. But she snaps that sweetness into a snarl all at once, dragging her fingers back through his hair, tugging harshly to tilt his head back, a groan breaking in his chest as she starts to bounce on his dick.

“Want you to listen to me while I fuck you, baby, can you do that for me?” He nods his head as best he can with her fingers still tangled in his hair, holding his gaze steady on her.

“Yes, fuck– I can– can listen, just, please keep doing that.” She grinds her hips down on a particularly hard bounce, his eyes rolling back in his head as she continues to ride him.

“I’m gonna trust you. I’m choosing to trust you. But let me make a few things very clear to you.” She tries to keep her voice steady, stern, though it still comes out a bit breathless with the way she’s working herself on his throbbing cock, biting back a whimper as he grazes that just right spot inside her.

“I am not going to be your pet, do you understand me? That’s not what this is going to be. If you want a kept woman, find someone else.” He lets out a slurred chant of ok and I understand intermixed with a few choice curses, his blunt fingernails digging half-moons into her ass, hips canting up to meet hers with each bounce.

“I like you, a lot. And I want to be with you, fuck– and I’m grateful for what you’re giving me–” A broken moan keeps her from finishing her sentence, sensation starting to make her thoughts swim when he plants his feet into the mattress to start thrusting harder, their hips mashing together every time, pleasure settling heavy and tight in her spine.

“But I’m still going to work– not at Pandora’s– but a more, christ– normal job. Making my own money. I’m not going to be some– credit-card swiping– spoiled little– trophy girlfriend.” Each phrase is said with another pass of her hips, both of them letting out sharp gasps with each thrust, and she holds it together just long enough to get out what she wants to say, finally letting go of her grip in his hair, instead pressing her palms into his chest to get him to lay down fully as she seeks out that snapping point of pleasure. Marcus brings a hand around, his thumb finding her clit in a hot drag that sets a moan loose in her chest, her cunt spasming around his cock.

“I understand, I do, I swear. Please, baby, wanna feel you– want you to come so bad. Let me have it– let me have it all.” She unravels with his rasped-out pleas, back arching in a perfect curl of pleasure as his hands guide her in a close grind, following after her with a clipped groan of her name, the warmth of him making her shudder as she slumps down against his chest. They lay like that for a while, skin sticking slick, their heaving chests pressing against each other in a shared rhythm as he runs his palms up and down her spine. A silent understanding sealed in sweat and salt.

“So you’ll– you’re gonna stay?” She could laugh, it’s such a ridiculous question for him to ask after she just all but rode him to hell. But when she lifts her head to meet his gaze, seeing the very serious scrunch of his brows, that laugh dies in her throat with the realization that he’s genuinely asking, and genuinely worried about the answer. Ducking down, she first presses a kiss to his chest before leaning back up to slot her lips with his, simple and sweet.

“I’m not going anywhere, Marcus, I promise.”

…

“Are you gonna get that?” Marcus looks at her over the rim of his coffee mug, brow quirking at her question.

“Why don’t you go see who it was?” She snorts at that, watching his eyes flicker as he takes another swig of coffee.

“Uh, I’m not wearing pants. And also, I’m not the one who lives here.” He’s putting on a show, she knows it, humming as if in thought at her statement, the corners of his lips twitching in a stifled smile.

“It’s early, baby, no one’s gonna see. Just go take a look for me, huh?” He can no longer hold back his grin, going all crooked with whatever scheme he’s got cooked up for her.

“Alright, fine, I’ll play along. But you’re cheesy, you know that, right?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffs at him, finally getting up from the kitchen table to pad over to the front door. She figures it’s probably flowers, or maybe another garment bag for whatever he has planned for them today. Not wanting to give Marcus’ neighbors a show, she cracks the door just enough to peek her head out, her jaw dropping at what she sees.

“Oh my god.” Silver, glossy, and gleaming in the early morning light. A sleek silhouette, and that unmistakable hood ornament perched right over the front grille, the Mercedes Benz insignia shining proudly. And on the roof of the car sits the biggest, gaudiest red bow she’s ever seen.

“What do you think?” She turns around to find Marcus standing behind her, a set of car keys dangling from one of his fingers, grinning from ear to ear.

“I think you’re lucky you’re cute. Seriously, Marcus, this is– this is–” He cuts her off with a smacking kiss, pressing the car keys into her hand as he does.

“This is me taking care of you. No more metrorail, no more bus. You’re gonna be a woman who drives from now on.”

“I– you– you’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?” He tilts his head at her, eyes crinkling up as he slips his arm around her waist, pulling her away from the door and into his chest.

“On this? No, no I’m not.” It’s just a touch of arrogance, in the slant of his smile, the way he hums a laugh when she shakes her head at him, giving a half-hearted smack to his chest.

“Hmm, well aren’t you something else.”

“Oh baby, I’m just getting started.”

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