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birgittesilverbae · 7 months

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“You look like hell." "I feel like it." meathshieldshotgun mayhaps 👀

spideytorch-but-not-this-spideytorch au again

Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit. It's a single main room, barely larger than the hospital room Ava finally got to call her own the year she turned thirteen, when Jillian's staff had moved Diego to the newly-emptied room next to Michael's. No, she can't get caught up on that now, on them, on the lab, on the burst of blue light that had– Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit, a sheet tacked up to separate what Ava assumes is a bed from the rest of the area, where a battered couch and coffee table and cloth-shrouded easel vie for space in the scant few feet between front door and fire escape.

Spider-Man watches her with a knowing glint in her eye. "It's not much," she agrees to Ava's unstated opinion, "but it's home. You have one of those to go back to, kid?"

Ava shrugs, tugging her knees up to her chest as she settles against the scratched-up couch arm. She wraps her arms about her legs, hugs them close, and it feels almost alien, the press of legs against arms and arms against legs and the pressure of the rough couch cover against her flesh. It makes her skin crawl, but she tamps herself down against the shudder that tries to break free, finds herself unable to speak.

"If you don't wanna tell me, that's fair enough. You have a name, at least?"

"Ava," she replies softly, rubbing her thumb against the weathered span of denim stretched across her knee. "I'm Ava."

"Nice to meet you, Ava. I'm–" Spider-Man pauses, eyes darting to the side, then shrugs. "In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. My name's Shannon, and I'll be your waitress tonight." She produces a sheaf of glossy pamphlets from behind her back like a magic trick and leans down to fan them out across the coffee table, heedless of the open textbooks she disturbs with the motion. "Anything you want, just give me a head's up so I can call in the order."

"Anything I–" Ava sways forward, gaze caught by the bright shine of the pamphlets. She reaches out her hand, uses her palm to drag one of them halfway off the edge of the coffee table so she can pinch it between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, Ollie's is great, they always give me an extra serving of rice. Do you like Sichuan?"

"I don't know," she says quietly, stroking the smooth page with her thumb, awed by how easily her skin slides across the sheet.

"You don't know as in you have no preference, or you don't know as in–"

"As in I haven't eaten solid food in a decade," she admits, and her voice is almost steady.

Shannon's grin is easy, as so much about her seems to be. "Let's remedy that, then," she says, and Ava could kiss her for not pushing the topic. "Anything there that looks interesting? Or I could get a selection of things, maybe help you figure out what you like?"

Ava looks from the takeout menu in her hand down toward the mess on the coffee table and back again, the options almost overwhelming in their vastness. "Whatever you want to do," she manages, tossing the pamphlet in the direction of the table and pulling her arm back around her knee.

The pamphlet skids across the table, off the far edge, plunges over towards the floor. A thwip, and it's in Shannon's hand, translucent strands connecting it to her wrist.

She stares. She hadn't been able to make out the mechanism by which Shannon had pulled them from building to building in those long, floating arcs, but she's listened to enough of Diego's excited recountings of news stories to know the consensus was that the webbing came from a gauntlet, perhaps, or a canister. Ava suspects there must be an aspect of costume design built specifically to fuel those rumours, because a puncture in Shannon's skin itself extrudes the strands of web.

She doesn't mean to, but her eyes stay glued to Shannon's forearm long enough that she's caught in the act. Shannon watches Ava watching her and heat floods into Ava's cheeks. She knows better, should know better, can remember how every too long stare had made her feel small, inconsequential, other. "I'm sorry," she starts, but the cloud has already shifted from Shannon's eyes, leaving them bright and clear again.

"It's alright, it's just been a while since anyone new has seen that. I'd forgotten how it must look from the outside."

"No," Ava repeats, because it's important, because she's waved off lingering eyes in just the same way for so long, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare."

"It's okay," and there's a hint of a laugh to it now. She gestures towards the second door, the one Ava figures hides a bathroom, with the takeout menu. "I'm gonna go call in the order and then we can talk about it, if you want?"

"Okay. Thank you."

She watches Shannon until the door shuts behind her, then turns her attention back to the apartment. She knows she shouldn't pry, especially not here, not now, not with the kindness and grace Shannon has already shown her in rescuing her from– Don't, she chastises herself. Don't think about Jillian thrusting her arm into the device, don't think about the electric blue energy emanating throughout the room, don't–

A sweet, smoky scent drifts up into her nostrils and she snaps her gaze down to her hand, flat on the couch arm. What had been her hand. A mass of roiling flame attached to her arm, eating at the cuff of her sleeve, crisping the fabric of the couch. "What the fuck," she mutters reflexively, her stomach sinking. She pulls her hand back, waves it through the air, but the fire clings to her skin– Is her skin? "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop."

She focuses on her breathing as she had in that warehouse beneath Shannon's careful gaze, drags the sleeve up her arm with her other hand to protect what remains of it. The flames wax and wane as she glares at them, and she sets her mind towards her hand, towards what she thinks it's meant to feel like.

"As if I know what it's meant to feel like," she says, hysterical. But she tries gamely to picture cool flesh, like all those hands on her forehead for years and years, caretakers too rushed to take a moment to scrub their palms together to imbue them with some fleeting kind of warmth. Cool skin, and whole, and definitely not on fire.

The flames retreat back beneath her skin in the blink of an eye and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead, just to check. Cool against the fever flush of her face. Great. Outstanding. And all it took was torching half of Shannon's apartment.

The fabric covering the arm of the couch has turned black-beaded and stiff, and the sweater sleeve now ends halfway up her forearm, and there's nothing she'd like more right now than to vanish before Shannon slips back into the room with her easy smile and easy gait and easy wave of a hand in response to apologies.

She's not given a chance to make an escape, though, because Shannon's emerging back into the room, shoving her phone into the side pocket of her tights and grinning at Ava before she can even begin to form an explanation. "I'm moving out at the end of the month anyway," she says with a laugh, "feel free to burn the rest of it so I don't have to figure out when our bulk item collection day is scheduled."

"I didn't mean–" Ava starts, stops. There's something painful in her chest, constricting her ribs, and she scrubs a shaking hand over her eyes, draws it away wet. "I don't know–"

"It's okay." Shannon drags the coffee table back from the couch, as far as she can in the cramped space, and takes a seat on it in front of Ava. There's a bare inch of space between her knees and Ava's booted feet, toes sticking over the edge of the couch cushion. The navy fabric plastered tight to Shannon's thighs is decorated with that same reflective web pattern as the boots, picked out in infinitesimally small stitches, and Ava's fingertips itch to brush across it, to feel every twist and turn and bump of the embroidery. "It's okay," Shannon repeats, and there's a barefaced truth in her voice that makes Ava lift her head to meet her gaze.

"I don't know what happened, I don't know what I'm supposed to do–"

Shannon smiles softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "That's alright, Ava. It will come in time."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Well, one of us has to be," she says, flat as anything.

Ava's throat tightens around a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just–"

Shannon cuts her off with a grimace, a touch to her foot. "I didn't mean it like that. No wonder everyone tells me I've an abhorrent sense of humour. Powers are a burden, especially newfound ones, but not one I'm going to make you bear alone. I'm calm about this because when I was in your shoes" – her eyes flick down to Ava's feet in her own costume boots and there's a quick twist to her mouth like she's biting back another joke – "when I was in your shoes I felt alone, was alone. But I managed to survive that, and I have complete faith that you will too."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you didn't blow me off when I tried to help you calm down. I know you internalised those instructions and used them to get your powers under control just now. I know you went an hour without setting anything on fire, and then only small patches." Her gaze finds the takeout menus wedged beneath her hip before working back up to Ava's face. "And I think it's fair to assume you've survived much more difficult trials than this."

Ava looks at her hand, splayed across light-washed denim, presses her fingertips into the fabric just to see the way it makes the tendons across the back of her hand press up hard against pale skin. A joy, to move them, to be moved by them. "That's… that's accurate," she allows, digging her thumbnail into the fold of the seam.

Shannon reaches towards her, hand stalling between them, and then she's gone, a blur, sliding smoothly to the front door and opening it, bracing her hands over her head against the frame. Ava hadn't even heard the knock, if there'd been one, and she rocks to the side to try and get a glimpse past Shannon's outstretched shield of a body.

"I didn't think you were coming over today," Shannon says, half on the edge of hearing. "Are you okay? You look like hell."

"I feel like it," a woman mutters. She's standing in Shannon's shadow, the light in the hallway buzzing and blinking and too near dead to properly illuminate her, but then she rocks onto her toes to dart a kiss to Shannon's cheek and there's something familiar in the movement, the careful trajectory of her mouth, the spark in her eyes. "Remind me to get you to vet my next employer," she continues, slipping around Shannon with ease, "so I can have a heads-up on the fledgling supervillain thing. 'Cause you'll never believe the bullshit Salv–"

She spots Ava at the same time as Ava clocks the all-too-familiar shade of scrub pants and stitches together a last few fragmentary memories of those last moments. Eyes widening, breath catching in two chests in unison before the release, the movement, Mary's hand reaching behind her back, a charged thrill shooting up Ava's fingers.

"Mary, this is Ava," Shannon says, sliding between them, a hand pressed to Mary's chest. Her voice is light, in sharp contrast to the tension in her shoulders. "She's not having a great day either."

That's all it takes to defuse Mary, pressing forward into Shannon's palm as though there's nothing else in the universe tethering to this room. "I'll say," she manages to choke out around a hitch in her throat, "seeing how she should be dead. The rest of them are," she continues, shifting to lock eyes with Ava over Shannon's shoulder, "and I saw the hole that you–"

"Jillian Salvius did this?" Shannon interrupts.

"She fucking did something, Shan. With Ava over there, with another kid, with her own son. They didn't tell us shit beyond that, other than 'here's another mess to sweep up, careful, it might be radioactive this time'." Mary pauses, reaches a hand up to touch Shannon's cheek. "How'd you stumble over her? On the way back from the library?" It's clumsy, even to the yawning sound of Ava's ears, you should be dead the rest of them are, like an actor stumbling over their lines.

"She knows," Shannon says dryly.

"Why do I even bother," Mary sighs, "when you just keep dragging in strays and telling them everything and expecting me to help you rehome them. I only have the one couch, and it's already been spoken for."

"They're… They're dead?" Ava interjects, hard, soft, reaching. Diego's grin peeking around the doorframe, Michael's careful strength, Jillian– She doesn't want to think about Jillian.

"They are," Mary says, something raw and aching in her expression, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she says, "okay." The flame filters into her lungs her heart, ripples hot beneath her skin. She tugs the hoodie over her head in a rush, gasping for air, half-blind with panic.

"Ava–" Shannon starts, shifting towards her, but Mary takes her by the shoulder, holds her back.

"Let her make her choice, Shan." The words are barely audible over the inferno in Ava's chest.

She rises from the couch, keeps rising, midair before them as her fingers turn to flame, her wrist, her forearm. The hospital gown clings tight even as the jeans scorch, burn, flake away in ashen clumps. "I'm sorry," she says, breath scalding in her mouth, and flings herself towards the window, through the rails of the fire escape, spins upwards into the night sky. "I'm so sorry."

#ask #smokestarrules #myfic #mywn #fic: suits #ava silva #shannon masters #shotgun mary #tfw the only thing working for the fic is the prequel stuff that's not actually making the cut for the fic #mary x shannon #i should probably just slap these two together and punt them onto ao3 like here's a prequel for an avatrice fic #that I'm never gonna write bc my brain hates me xoxo

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frownyalfred · 4 months

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Broke: Dick hates being Batman because he’s his own vigilante and doesn’t want the responsibility of the cowl

Woke: Dick hates being Batman because he has to bulk for a few weeks beforehand in order to look convincing in the suit

I feel like Dick gets the heads up text from Bruce, groans, and turns around to hit Costco for chicken breast and greek yogurt.

Because he’s muscular as Nightwing, absolutely, but he’s not carrying as much muscle on a given day like Jason and Bruce are. He needs to be more agile than them, and as a result he’s a little leaner.

Taking on the cowl, even temporarily, means bulking up as quickly as possible. Because even if he pads the suit, the goons don’t know that. They’re still gonna hit Batman like he’s carrying the same amount of mass.

#thoughts #as I hit the gym thinking about a bulk #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily #dick grayson #nightwing #me on my ‘Jason is a more convincing Batman in the suit but he would never wear it’ hc again #dick is phenomenal and a fantastic actor #but maybe he’s just a little short and lean #fic ideas #hmmmmm

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tiffycat · 5 months

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Hiya! 🤗 I saw you take requests sometimes. I was wondering if you would do the scene from Buy Back The Secrets when Superboy busts in on Superman and Batman, snarling "You lied! You said he was a good man!"

I love soft timkon, but I'd love some absolutely feral Kon 👍

Drew out a quick comic of that scene for ya after like a month and a half >.> sorry

Was initially just going to be a single sketch from that scene but I got carried away

#superboy #kon el #conner kent #superman #clark kent #batman #bruce wayne #nightwing #dick grayson #timkon #< for the fic #dc #dc comics #fic art #usually a request like this would be better suited for a commission but my comms are closed and I had the time so I thought Id do it anyway #1k

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banancrumbs · 2 years

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I really like the concept of Morpheus going to one of Hob’s work events 🤧🤧 or just meeting with his friends!!!

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mrs-bucky-barnes106 · 9 months

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we saw oppenheimer at 12:00 with a black coffee and barbie at 4:30 with a diet coke like the lord intended

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lxndonorris · 2 months

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new season, new suit - Charles Leclerc (SFS24)

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut (you've been warned) Theme: you're attending the ferrari photoshoot, watching Charles pose like the model he is. What happens when he invites you to the changing room? word count: 2080+ taglist: @game-set-canet the second installment of the suit fitting saga 2024.

Your heart buzzes with anticipation as the new Formula 1 season looms on the horizon, and Charles, your boyfriend and a professional racing driver for Scuderia Ferrari, is in the midst of a photoshoot for his team's new gear.

The vibrant red racing suit, tailored to perfection, hugs his athletic frame like a second skin, accentuating every contour and muscle. Throughout the last few years, he has been a part of the Ferrari family, and they always manage to create such beautiful suits for him and his teammate.

You watch Charles and Carlos strike poses, standing right next to each other, as the guy with the huge camera tells them what to do next.

When he invited you to join him for the shoot, you couldn't resist the opportunity to witness him in his element and, obviously, see the new suit on him.

As he strikes pose after pose, his smile contagiuos and his eyes sparkling with excitement, your heart swells with pride. Charles looks so handsome, with the fabric of the suit flowing perfectly across his firm body, accentuating all the right spots.

Anytime he moves, you can't help but admire his physique: his big biceps bulging, his thick thighs, and his strong frame—just perfect. You feel a sudden rush of joy and excitement, knowing that he wants you there by his side.

With each click of the camera, you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with him.

Then Carlos walks away, looking at the pictures through the screen as Charles sits down, ready for another round.

That's when your eyes meet from across the room, and you notice a familiar glint of longing desire burning in his eyes. Charles licks his lips, lifts his chin, and strikes another pose: he runs a hand across his chest firmly, dragging the suit's fabric acoss as his hand reaches his neck.

He takes a deep breath while resting his other hand casually on his thighs, right after he subtly strokes himself some more.

It feels like he is posing just for you, his gaze seeking yours amidst the whirlwind of activity surrounding us.

It's nearly impossible to look away until he focuses on the camera once more. Tension is building up inside your belly and chest, sending several shivers down your spine.

For a moment, you look around. Someone might have watched this, exposing his teasing nature, but nobody reacts—just you.

That's when he strikes another pose, looking for your eyes once again. Sparks are flying when he opens his mouth, posing like a real model would, while his burning gaze pulls you in.

You notice his hands now stroking his chest shortly before a sly smirk creeps on his lips—the same smirk he would give you before kissing you in bed.

Letting out a low sigh, you regain your composure, but the thought of him on top of you, kissing you while encompassing your entire body with his soft hands, gives you goosebumps.

You hear his voice inside your mind—a mere whisper, a soft moan—as he grinds his hips on yours. With his hand around your neck, he keeps on kissing you, pinning you to the bed. His desire presses against your thighs, asking for one special thing.

"That's it for now." The photographer's voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. He captures the last few shots before Charles regains his stance, running his hands one last time across his chest before approaching the computer.

They talk for a little while, while you can't help but sink back into that daydream. Closing your eyes, you try to push these thoughts away, but his low groans echo through every fiber of your body.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles' voice makes you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, a coy smile forming in the corner of his lips. "How do I look?"

"Stunning." You reply, letting your eyes wander all over him, noticing how firm his body has grown due to the excitement and tension building up throughout the shoot.

With a chuckle, Charles leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Carlos, your turn." A voice echoes through the studio as Carlos takes the stage.

Both of you turn to watch him perform, just as well as Charles did before him.

Then, however, Charles leans into you again, his lips inches away from your ear.

"I hope you know how happy I am that you're here today." He breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks for the invitation." You turn to meet his gaze; his eyes sparkle in mischief.

Both of you turn back to watch Carlos strike another pose, but then Charles whispers into your ear again.

"I always feel so special wearing this gear." His voice is low and rough. "I want to share the first time wearing this suit with you."

You dare not look at him, trying to avoid his gaze, but you're way too hooked not to look at him.

He bites his lower lip, trying to swallow a mischievous smirk, but subconsciously, he strokes his chest again, letting his hand slide down his suit to the faint bulge forming in his trousers.

"You're an idiot." You chuckle quietly, grab his chin with your hand, and push him away playfully.

For a second, you just watch the shoot play out in front of you, but then he turns back to you.

"I can tell Carlos is feeling the same." He chuckles to himself, and you can see his eyes now checking out his teammate.

"How?" You ask carefully, and he just motions for you to watch Carlos.

"Just watch his body move, so deliberately yet so naturally," Charles says, "just the way his muscles bulge—his chest, arms, and thighs. Just like mine." He swallows hard before turning his face back to yours. "Could you tell?"

Breathing deeply, you nod slowly.

"Just so fucking good." Charles smiles, leans in, and kisses you again; this time, it's a much more passionate kiss.

As the photoshoot comes to an end and they talk about the pictures for a while, Charles turns to you with a playful grin, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Care to join me backstage?" He asks, his voice low and husky—an offer you can't refuse.

With a nod, you take his hand, leading him toward the changing room. Luckily, each driver got their own little private area—enough space for the two of you to have some fun.

Inside, the air is filled with the scent of his cologne, wrapping you like a familiar embrace as he pulls you into him, his hands now tightly on your waist.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you take the opportunity to stroke his firm chest. His muscles are already as hard as rocks, and his clothes are barely able to contain his form.

With a gentle touch, you run your hands over the fabric of the suit, marveling at its sleek texture against your fingertips. It was like silk beneath your touch—smooth and luxurious.

As you explore the contours of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, Charles lets out a soft sigh, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire. His hands run along your waistline to your arse, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

Carefully, you unbutton the collar of his suit, exposing the zipper. You exchange a knowing look, and he lets you pull the zipper down, revealing the tight red fireproofs he is wearing underneath.

With a little help, his upper body slips out of his clothes, the sleeves now hanging down his waist.

His undergarments are even tighter, just like a second skin that drags across his muscles, his nipples, and down his thick biceps and shoulders.

With a playful grin, Charles flexes his muscles, the fabric of the fireproofs stretching taut against his athletic frame. Every ripple and bulge is accentuated, showcasing his physique in all its glory—a sight to behold—and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his voice so rough.

"Absoluetly," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I need this so much." Charles leans into you, kissing you. His body presses against yours, and right away, his hips grind against yours.

Together, you make your way through the room until you come to a standstill. You're standing with your back against a wall, Charles' lips tightly on yours, while one hand is around your neck, stroking you gently.

In response, you stroke his chest again and again, causing him to purr happily right in your mouth. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger, swirling all around you as he runs a hand across your chest, your boobs, and right between your legs.

"Charles." You tilt your head, letting out a low grunt.

"I'm so hard right now," he replies, letting out a guttural groan from deep down his throat. His burning desire is rubbing against your thighs. So good.

"Let me handle that." You smirk, and in one swift motion, you turn him around, pressing his back against the concrete wall.

A devious smirk tugs at his lips, knowing very well what you're offering.

Placing a hand at his neck, you trace his firm jawline with your fingertips, enjoying how his very light stubble tickles your skin.

You kiss him once, twice, again, and again, right on his lips, before you make your way down his chest.

"You're so handsome." Running your thumb along his soft, wet lips, you look into his eyes, causing him to take another deep breath. At the same time, you rub his member with the palm of your hand, as you know he enjoys that so much.

"You're gorgeous." He murmurs, his eyes wandering all over your face—from your lips to your cheeks and back to your eyes.

You let your hands run down his neck to his chest, firmly feeling his muscles through the fireproofs. You pinch his nipples—one of his sensitizing spots—causing him to swallow a long moan.

"That feels good." He breathes deeply.

Before you go any further, you pull his shirt up, exposing his beautiful, bare chest. At first, you trace his tangible abs with your index finger before you place longing kisses all over his skin.

Looking up, you catch him watching you closely. Charles licks his lips and strokes his own chest as you get on your knees.

With a little help from him, you manage to pull his suit down enough for him to present his length bulging through his undergarments.

"You're a big boy." You tease him by tracing the outlines of his member, causing him to smirk again.

"I've been hoping we would do that." He shakes his head, exhausted yet excited. "I couldn't think of anything else." His accent comes through slightly, making you smile.

By biting your lip at the sight of him struggling to keep a straight face, you won't edge him on any longer.

You pull his length out of his suit—it towers in front of you—and you take him in your mouth—a sensational, familiar feeling. His delicious taste spreads across your tongue while he takes several deep breaths, trying not to make too much noise.

As you move your mouth rhythmically, you watch his body follow your lead. All of him is longing for a much-needed release, and you're about to give it to him.

Charles strokes himself firmly, even leaning his head back against the wall.

"So good." He runs a hand through your hair, stroking you and holding you in place at the same time.

"Mhmm." You moan, enjoying his taste all over your mouth. Your body shakes, and you steady yourself against his thighs, much to his amusement.

"I'm so close." He growls, blinking a few times, before he can't help but release himself—fucking good.

You let go of him and separate yourself, watching him stroke his member before tugging it back into his underwear.

"You're a fucking goddess." He chuckles, reaching for your hand and pulling you into another loving kiss.

"Thanks for today." You say, stroking his chest gently while staring into his beautiful eyes.

"I need to thank you." Charles smiles, and you hug each other tightly.

Together, you get changed before you return to the others already waiting for you.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #Formula 1 smut #f1 smut #sfs24 #suit fitting saga 2024

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harundraws · 3 months

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so there's a fun new art meme going around....... OR what should've happened at that class reunion hotel rendezvous!! i thought drawing our favorite couple for it from the insane but delicious fanfic 'flirting with the line (and then i crossed it)' by @novelconcepts would be a fun thing to do!

👉🏼the link to novelconcepts’ post to the fic ✨

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanart #van palmer #taissa turner #taivan #novelconcepts #fic art #it's everything we could've asked for #gotta plug the fic #not only because its incredible but because Van’s suit is completely inspired by it #i've been drooling after that suit ever since #I NEEDED A VISUAL FOR IT

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asimmutableasgravity · 5 months

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big big marvey fic rec list

marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!

fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you

MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES

A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)

“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.

"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."

i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)

of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)

Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.

"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."

this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE

5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…

i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)

fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)

needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)

When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.

this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS

Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)

After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.

BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)

The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)

Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.

"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."

I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul

Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)

"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."

reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me

Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)

In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...

i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh

Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)

Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.

this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)

afternoon reads (10k+)

Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)

Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.

“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.

cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh

Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)

When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]

I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!

quick reads (1k+)

This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)

She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.

RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much

an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)

Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”

this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)

Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)

Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.

"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.

IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh

Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)

When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.

BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)

Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)

Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.

this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1

One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)

Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.

HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!

also pspspsps

golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)

Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.

yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth

there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3

^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3

#marvey #suits tv #suits #mike ross #harvey specter #marvey fic recs #marvey fic #ao3 #fic rec list #fic recs #tbr #fanfiction #103 #GUYS PLEASE READ THIS #mikexharvey

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lead0 · 5 months

Text

based on from the outback with love by @neo-my-geo

no idea how tumblr works so no guarantee that link will work ahaha :,)

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #bloody suit #not a huge fic reader but easy 10/10 will read again #tf2 #don’t mind the horrendous proportions i haven’t drawn in a little while (except the medic n heavy thing ofc)#i decided that the best thing to draw was a two fullbodys with lineart #two things that i’m really bad at ahahah #anyways it’s done now and looks good if you squint really hard to the point you can’t see :]#tf2 fanart #team fortress 2

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

Text

Afterwards, they do a race. They don’t talk about it, but it’s there, between them still. Something settled between them. Cleo doesn’t know how to say it; they never know how to say things like this. Still, they need to, so they wait until Ren’s race is over and then hike through the jungle to go sit on top of Etho’s base and wait for him to show up as well.

He doesn’t. He’d gone to their base. Instead of just showing up for each other, they have to somewhat awkwardly coordinate over text which base to meet at. It forces everything to feel more real.

When they finally meet up, it’s in the shopping district, leaning against the button. A dangerous game in theory, but Cleo’s not fully convinced it can explode at this point, so.

Cleo breathes. They’re both quiet for a moment.

"Okay, so like, are we doing this?" Cleo says.

"I don’t really know, uh, what this is," Etho says, "but I… care about you. I think. So I think we’re doing that."

Cleo nods once. "You know I don’t fall in love, right? I’m not going to fall in love with you, I don’t do that. Might say something about loving you, but it’s not the same thing. Different sense of the word. It’s different, loving people and falling in love, got it? And I won’t do that second thing. I’m never going to do that second thing. I don’t--"

"Okay. I know," Etho says.

"Do you?" Cleo asks.

"I mean, not entirely, but I’m frankly surprised we’re having this conversation in the first place. I never expected you to be in love with me."

"But I’m not," Cleo says. "I’m attracted to you, and I love you as like, a companion and friend or whatever, but I’m not in love with you. I’m. Ugh. I wish I knew the right words. I just--I also don’t let go of things so if we’re doing this you’re going to have to get used to that real fast. Me not being in love with you but me not letting you go, both of those things."

"You're attracted to me? Aw, Cleo," Etho says.

"Don't be an ass," Cleo says.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, geez, this is--a heavy conversation, huh?"

Cleo sighs. "We'll work on the deflection."

Etho rubs the back of his head and looks away. "Uh, in that case. If I'm maybe a little in love with you--"

"I can't--I can't reciprocate that, Etho," Cleo says, and their voice cracks as they do.

"I know," Etho says. "I just want to make sure it's okay, then."

"You can't help that, can you? Just like I can't help that I still sort of want to kill anyone who hurts you."

Etho seems to think about it for a while. Cleo resists the urge to fidget. She's a zombie. She shouldn't have the urge to fidget; she should be too dead for that. Besides, it's hardly like it's a secret she doesn't fall in love, exactly. It's just... it's only relevant sometimes. Feeling like, as she watches Etho and Bdubs dance around each other, she's on the outside looking in. She'd kill to hold their hands, to protect them, hell, even to kiss them--but that's different. She just can't summon the same emotion of... she doesn't know.

Martyn had almost gotten it, for all he didn't get anything else, in the end. Scott was never going to fall in love with her in the first place, for obvious reasons. Whatever attraction she and Pearl have going on, it's definitely not love.

But this...

"Okay," Etho says.

"That's it?" Cleo says.

"I mean, does it need to be anything else?" Etho says. "It's not like we can just... not do this. I think it's too late for that. Whatever 'this' is. I'm in love, and you aren't, but we'd both be pretty upset to lose this, right? So I'll... figure it out."

Cleo swallows. They feel small. "Will you? Do you understand?"

Etho shrugs. "I understand that it's you, and it's you that this happened with, not anyone else."

"Okay," Cleo says. "Okay."

"Is it okay if I kiss you? Just to try it, I mean. Not like, as a--this is a bad time, actually, I don't want to try to make any kissing we do romantic, I mean, you just told me this won't be romantic, I--"

"Yeah, sure, you can kiss me," Cleo says, and he leans in to kiss them. It's nice. A little soft for what they'd want, really, but nice. He leans back. He looks them in the eyes.

"I get it a little more now."

Cleo is baffled. "How? Kissing is just like, a thing we did? How does that have anything to do with any of the rest of this."

Etho laughs. "I definitely get it a little more now. What do you want to tell the others? I know they're definitely gossiping."

"Ugh. Can we just, like, not?" Cleo says. "I don't want to have to explain it."

"I'll just be confusing then, got it," Etho says, and Cleo can't help but laugh themselves.

"This is why you're my favorite," Cleo says, and they think maybe this will work out okay, after all.

#secret life smp #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #a bee fic #cletho #zombiecleo #ethoslab #yeah this one is ALSO pretty overtly shipping even though it’s also overtly aromantic #idk man. definitions are blurry. lines are blurry. I’d call this shipping even if it’s not about being in love.#anyway. bi aro cleo is a headcanon I’m increasingly attached to so I thought I’d write this for yall.#don’t know how to explain it more than. I think it suits them.#I know this is out of my wheelhouse but I felt like I wanted it out there yeah?#anyway I’LL GO BACK TO THE FANON SWAP PROMPTS SOON JUST NEEDED THIS WRITTEN FIRST

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fox-bee926 · 10 months

Text

Who did this?

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: Wow another one? I'm going to do one more after this and then answer an ask and put all my harvey fics on one post. Then after that who knows. I have an awesome aragorn x reader fic I've been playing around with so I might work on that. Definitely going to try and do more one shots to improve my writing. I really enjoy it but depression makes it a tad hard. Anyways! Enjoy! TW: **This story focuses on the physical abuse between the Reader character and her boyfriend. I am not responsible for the content you consume so please be advised. There are explanations of abuse, but no explicit scenes of abuse occurring.** abuse (physical and emotional), hurt/comfort, Harvey being very sweet, mention of painkillers but I'm talking like 2 tylenol or ibuprofen or something Word Count: 2.5k

You run across the street to the Pearson Hardman office building, just about soaking wet. All that protected you from the rain was a newspaper you bought right outside your building. You prayed all the way to work that it wouldn’t just completely break under the force of the rain. You had spent almost thirty minutes on makeup, twenty five more minutes than you usually spend. To go along with that, you couldn’t find an available taxi because of the rain. Not even the pain in your shoulder had let up, despite taking a couple painkillers.

Your boyfriend had gotten a bit angry with you last night after you went out socializing with some friends. It wasn’t your smartest move. You knew he didn’t like you to hang out with your guy friends without his permission. But you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The feelings of your heart conflicted with your rational mind. All you know is you love him and he loves you. Which is why he gets upset when you go out without him. But then why wouldn’t he make time to go out with me alone?

You shook those thoughts out of your head as you swiped your card into the building. You took the time in the elevator to dry off with your sweater. Which was consequently soaked. Curses rang out in the elevator- cursing the sweater, the weather, your boyfriend, you didn’t know.

You sat down in the chair next to Donna and exchanged greetings. “How are we looking today, Donna?” You smiled as you saw Harvey sitting in his office. The only person getting into the office earlier than him was Donna.

“Full day as always. Oh, Jonathan from accounting asked for Harvey to look at his expense accounts for this last month. He won’t of course- but as long as they get to Harvey’s desk, Jon won’t speak another word about it until the next thousand dollar dinner with a client.” Donna goes back to typing rapidly on her computer.

“And then the cycle continues,” You let out a hearty laugh for the first time since you left work last Friday. “I’ll get on that. Anything else while I’m in accounting?” You gather up different file folders that you need to take down to accounting anyway.

“Nope, say hi to Mr. Expense Forms for me!”

“Will do, Donna.”

You quickly walk to the elevator and down to the accounting department for Jonathan's expense reports. Harvey is still in the same spot as he was when you left as you open the door to his office. You make sure to open the door with your left arm, with the papers in your right.

“I got a delivery for Harvey Specter from Mr. Jonathan Expense Forms from accounting. Fuming as always. You might want to lay off the fancy dinners for a week.” Harvey rolls his eyes at the notion.

“Sweetheart, you think I’m that good at my job that I don’t need fancy dinners to win over clients? You must think very highly of me.” He chuckles smugly as he writes words you can barely read on a legal pad. You deal his snark back just the same.

“Of course I think you’re good. You’re my boss, I’m legally obligated to think so.” You both laugh until you reach with your right arm to set the folder on his desk. You let out a noise just loud enough for Harvey to be concerned.

“What happened to your shoulder?”

“It’s nothing, I just fell.”

At this, Harvey looks up. You were never one to be clumsy, let alone fall so hard as to hurt yourself. As Harvey’s eyes assess you, he notices a large dark bruise on your wrist- both your wrists in fact.

His silence worries you, and you follow his eyes to your wrists. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry-” You quickly try to pull your sleeves down to cover the spots. Remnants of rain water drove through the foundation.

Harvey takes a few deep breaths as you stand there in shocked silence. For the smallest second, you think he’s going to hurt you. Rationally, you know the notion is absurd, but the mind that has dealt with angry men keeps you silent.

Harvey finally speaks after taking a minute to process the information he’s pieced together.

“Who did this to you?”

You’re taken aback, that small part of your mind thinking he would call you unprofessional or weak. “My... My boyfriend. He just gets a little annoyed with me sometimes. It’s truly nothing. I’ll do better to cover them-”

“A good man being annoyed never results in bruises. How did this happen?” Harvey has to go against every part of his nature not to rush out and ask Donna everything about this man, then subsequently find him. He’s thinking that those boxing lessons are actually going to come in handy.

But he knows he can’t. He knows that if he moves like that, or moves at all, he’d terrify you. He can see how your eyes dart around. Towards the door, towards your wrists, and towards himself. He didn’t know how you would react if he even stood up.

“I fell into a bookshelf. He pushed me a bit and I lost balance.”

“You mean he shoved you into a shelf.”

The way Harvey phrased it made you feel uncomfortable. “That’s a bit harsh, but you could phrase it like that.”

He stared at you in disbelief. This wasn’t the woman he saw on a daily basis. The woman that dealt with almost every slimy man that came into the building. The woman that he had slowly fallen in love with since she arrived here.

The woman before him seemed like a shell of the woman he met three years ago, and he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.

“Do you know how you sound? You should never be bruised, shoved, or red eyed if you’re in love. That’s simply not how it is, and I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe that.”

At this, the dam broke.

Tears had been pooling in your eyes from the moment Harvey saw the bruises. But at his last words you let out a pained sob. It hadn't sunk in just how bad it had gotten. Your boyfriend had done this a few times before, but had never gotten so harsh until last night.

All the pain from the last year had come rushing in, and you were about to break right in front of your boss. Heavy tears started to run down your face. It was at this moment you were glad you never wore heavy makeup. You did your best to stifle the sounds and cries that tried to escape, but outside, Donna still saw through the glass.

Immediately, Donna calmly walks in. She takes one look at you, then Harvey. With a single nod from Harvey, Donna lets out a quiet "Car is on its way."

Unfortunately that made you feel even worse. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. This is completely unprofessional-"

Harvey finally stands up and walks towards you. At this point, what you need isn't space. He places his hands as gentle as can be on your arms to coax you to look at him. And you do, but looking at your red eyes and wet tears streaming down your face up close make his heart break even more.

"I don't give a shit about professionalism. Donna is getting the car and my driver is going to take you home-"

"No! He's there, he's been trying to move in with me and doesn't have a day job. He's just been staying there..." Your sentence trails off as you’re trying to process what you’re actually saying. Are you really doing this?

"Okay, then my driver will take you to my place and give you a key. We'll talk about the next steps when I get home. I'll get you some things from your apartment, okay?"

The tears were gone purely by witnessing Harvey be so calm, and you nodded slowly. All you could do was follow the sound of his voice. Like a lighthouse in a raging storm.

Donna entered the room quietly, "The car is here."

"Good. Donna will walk you out." You nodded, not saying a word. You turn to walk out of Harvey’s office, but he reaches out for your hand. “You’ll get through this, alright?”

You give a small smile. However, your mental state did not display the same sentiment. Your mind was reeling from what had happened in the last- what, 10? 15 minutes?

Donna leads you out the back staircase as a gesture of mercy. She knew that you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating his view of you. Everyone in the office saw you as an unbreakable force.

Harvey’s driver opens the door for you. You look back at Donna, who is smiling sweetly. “I promise, Harvey will take care of everything. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay?”

You gave Donna the same small smile you gave Harvey. You were at the edge of your sanity at this point. Now that you’ve gone through all the sadness and shock of the... situation, you were embarrassed. Angry. Angry at yourself for letting a man put his hands on you for a full year. Angry at Donna for knowing exactly what was going on and getting exactly what was needed. Angry at Harvey Specter for being so goddamn perfect that you couldn’t help the butterflies that always arose in your stomach whenever he talked to you. Angry at the world for putting you in this position.

Wordlessly, you exited the car once it stopped in front of Harvey’s building. You reached his apartment without thought. You took your heels off, and put your purse on the closest counter you saw.

And you cried.

_______

Harvey exited the elevator with a large box held in his hands. It was purely full of necessities. A week's change of clothes, toiletries, some books he knew were your favorite. Everything else he could buy new. He looked down and saw your heels on the ground and your purse on the table beside him.

Once he set down the box on the floor, he saw you. You looked even worse than at the office. Your beautiful hair was frizzy and pulled in odd directions. The worst part was the absolutely destroyed look on your face. Eyeshadow and liner were smudged on your red tinged eyes which stared into space in front of you.

Harvey sees your body stiff as a board on the edge of his soft couch, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s thought. “Have you been sitting like that since you got here?”

“No. I’ve only just sat down.” Your arms leaned on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

Harvey tries to ignore the hoarse sound in your voice. “Well, you can relax a bit if you’d like. I got you some more comfortable clothes if you want to change.”

Your brows furrow as you think. “Did he give you any problems?” For the first time since he came in the front door you look at him. He was visibly more relaxed than he is in the office. His suit jacket was tossed on the coat rake next to the door and the sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded up his arms. He walked towards the kitchen to the freezer.

“He didn’t get a chance. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you again.” He walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch and sets down an ice pack. His shirt was obviously wrinkled, and his knuckles held the slightest tinge of blue. The thought of Harvey hurting someone made your stomach flip, but you didn’t feel quite so bad for the receiving party.

“Let’s get some ice on that shoulder, huh?” He could tell you were still sensitive, but it felt more subdued than the scared woman he saw in his office.

You nodded in agreement about the ice pack. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it until he said something. As you unbutton your shirt to reveal your nude colored undershirt, you wince. The swelling of the bruise had gotten worse since you hadn’t taken anything for it. You hadn’t noticed the pain when you were crying, but now it just felt terrible.

“Let me help.” You give Harvey a look when the words come out of his mouth, a glimpse of that fiery woman that he knows. But you sigh and relent. You managed to undo a few buttons at least before Harvey steps in.

He unbuttons your shirt down to your stomach and pulls the shoulder of the shirt down just enough to slide the ice pack onto the skin. As soon as it’s securely placed between you and the couch, you let out a groan. In relief or pain, you don’t know. All you knew was that the cold felt absolutely wonderful on your swelled skin.

You and Harvey stay like that for a while, the exact amount of minutes you don’t know and neither does he. Harvey is the first to speak.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.”

You give him a look that says “I wonder why, dumbass.” But you refrain. “I’m thinking.”

He finally sits next to you on the couch and reaches his arm to grasp the top of the cushions. In his mind he excuses it as getting more comfortable, but the opportunity to touch you is also a bonus. Harvey was not a man of wise words for comfort, moreso actions and touch.

In a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood, he says “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”

You smile a true smile and look towards him. Then the thoughts in your head come rushing in and the smile falls from your face. “I’m thinking about how I’ve been with him for so long that I don’t know how to live my life without him. So much of my life has been conforming to his ideals, his feelings. How am I supposed to love and be loved after him? After I’ve split my soul into so many pieces that I’ve lost track of where they all are?”

Both of you sit in silence, not sure what to say.

“I was definitely not expecting that.”

“I am... extremely sorry I said that, please just ignore-”

“I wasn’t finished, sweetheart. Firstly, I think you should see a professional about these feelings. But in the meantime, we can work on that together.” Harvey smiles, but then falters. “I- I mean, if you want. I’m not trying to get in your pants, I promise, all I’m saying is that I’m here whenever and you can stay as long as you want and-”

“Thank you, Harvey. It means a lot to hear you say that.” You laugh at the sight of a flustered Harvey Specter.

“To paraphrase, you're not alone in this. Not ever.”

You reach over with your good arm and pull him into as much of a hug as you can muster. In return, he pulls you close. Neither of you ever want to leave.

#xreader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x fem!reader #fanfiction #fics by foxbee #suits #fics #harvey specter/reader #harveyspecter/fem!reader #harvey specter/you

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birgittesilverbae · 7 months

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8. "Are you hurt?" for a character of your choice?

spideytorch-but-not-this-spideytorch au

Ava comes out of the building like a comet, flashing bright across the sky, crashing through multiple apartments and landing hard in an abandoned warehouse. She cracks her eyes open, finds a masked and costumed figure crouched across the room from her. He watches her through steady inhuman lenses as she rolls to her feet, tries to catch her balance against a nearby stack of pallets, but she's ash and char and smoke curls up from beneath her red-hot fingers as the dry wood bursts into flame.

Spider-Man approaches her slow and careful, gloved hands out between them as though trying to soothe a wild animal. His voice is pitched low and even as he coaches her to breathe, to try to come back to herself. The fire subsides back beneath her skin as her chest steadies, until she's standing there muttering a thankful expletive when she glances down to find she's still in her hospital gown, the tiny black and red hourglasses on her socks peeking out beneath the hem, miraculously untouched.

Until she's standing.

The tears come without her permission, and Spider-Man takes a step closer, opens his arms for her without hesitation. She stumbles forward on unsteady legs, a sob caught sharp in her throat, and presses her face into the costumed chest.

Whatever its source, the energy leaches from her legs soon enough. She answers the negative to Spider-Man's quiet "are you hurt?", the affirmative to his "would you like me to carry you?" and finds herself clutching to tight-muscled shoulders, wind whipping through her hair as they soar across the skyline.

They skid to a halt on an empty rooftop and Spider-Man sets her down so he can pull a duffle bag from behind an aircon unit. Ava watches in quiet fascination as he digs out a hoodie and stares at the logo on the chest for a long moment before sighing and passing it to Ava. It's a vinyl-printed ESU logo, she discovers, curling up away from the fabric at the edges. She pulls the hoodie over her head, the loose fabric of her hospital gown bunching strangely beneath it when she tugs it down over her chest. Spider-Man has donned a long-sleeve tee in the meantime, a tiny slice of pizza embroidered on the left breast, and stands watching her again, those dark lenses shifting and whirring as he takes her in.

He sighs again, louder this time, and plucks at his costume pants. "Guess I could probably get away with pretending these are leggings," he says, half to himself, before passing Ava a pair of light-wash jeans.

She stares at them for a moment before taking them from his hand, slumping down into the gravel so she can struggle into them. Her hands are clumsy on the button, the zipper, all those movements she hasn't been able to accomplish for herself in over a decade.

If there's one mercy in this mess of a night it's that Spider-Man doesn't watch her, too busy turning that calculating stare back to his costume boots. He sighs a third time, the loudest yet, and toes them off, leaves himself standing in socked feet in the gravel. There's a quarter-sized hole in the toe of one sock, and he tucks it back behind his other ankle with a half-hearted laugh. Then he passes her the boots, watches her tug them on before reaching over to tug the hems of her borrowed jeans down over the reflective web pattern sprayed up the calves. "Good to go," he mumbles, hooking his foot in the strap of his duffle and dragging it towards them so he can fish a stained pair of chucks out and slip them on, double-knotting the laces once he's looped them back around his ankles and pulled them tight.

He stands there above her, lenses blinking slowly in the half-shadow of the rooftop, and peels off his gloves. Touches bare fingers to the neckline of his mask. His last sigh is explosive against the fabric and it's a long moment before he shrugs a shoulder, mutters something that sounds distinctly like "fuck it", and hooks his fingers under the fabric.

Ava's not sure what she expected. It's been years of that jackass news anchor running his mouth about an unhinged vigilante, and she wonders if a part of her was braced for someone who matched that villification. Or a douchebag looking frat bro, maybe – after all, some of the insults Diego's quoted to her have been decidedly juvenile.

She definitely hadn't anticipated the red-cheeked, sweat-streaked woman who grins back at her.

"Spider-Man?" she asks, hesitant now. There can't be that many masked vigilantes working their way through the city, can there?

She winks. "Nothing like getting misgendered by a newshound and having it stick."

"You sound–" Ava starts, thinks better of it, but Spider-Man's grin doesn't falter as she taps her mask where it's rolled up to her forehead.

"Voice modulator," she explains, then peels it the rest of the way off, stuffs it into the duffle with her gloves.

"Oh," Ava says, for want of anything better, and "Wow." And, after a long, breathless moment, "Can you do Darth Vader?"

#ask #anon #myfic #mywn #warrior nun #ava silva #shannon masters #fic: suits

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yes-asil · 1 year

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I watched too many documentaries where cheetahs call their siblings for help and cuddles.

#wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #asil and art #it's adorable augh #cheetah suit my beloathed tho #regretted every minute drawing the dots #fic incoming too

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doodlesforfics · 2 years

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Robin's Egg by Calix aka @arzuera is just, such gloriously fun fic to read. I literally want to draw so many scenes from it, like sadlkjfaskd its just!! so cute!!! aaaaa ;33333

also a lil doodle for locket because my mind is so stuck on it and figuring it out, i mean its just ;) so thoughtful of timbo

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #Danny Phantom #dc batman #damian al ghul #damian robin #duke thomas #timothy drake #red robin #richard dick grayson #nightwing #OK U WONT BELIEVE IT BUT i literally had cover ready a month ago. as most of the sketches.#it was like the second fic i planned to draw fanart for????#the problem came from the boys. as i have never drawn ANY OF BATBRATS i was driving myself crazy looking for refs #thank fuck for waynefamilyadv because their artstyle/designs literally saved my life??#Fun Fact: Tim gave me the most trouble. THAT BOY HAD SO MANY OUTFITS and all are relatively?? similar and often depicted?#like nightwing had previous suits but his black/blue one is like a staple #but Timbo?? TIMTIM??? MY MAN WHAT IS YOUR LATEST TELL ME Im not a comic expert i have no idea so i just?? hoped for best lol #ok i lied i DO know the last outfit Tim has and its banging BUT I CANT DRAW IT ITS TOO HOT and its not red robin i think #Fun Fact 2: i so desperately wanted to draw Damian in his black/red robin outfit #but?? i realized its like his grown up version...like at least 16ish?? since he looks older in it in pics. sigh. so i settled for a version #of course i had to have an artcrisis in the middle of drawing all the comics because i discovered dan more comic art #HAVE U SEEN THEIR AMAZING ART COMIC GODLINESS??? their nightwing sent me spirling like holy fuk #thats why i dont look at amazing comic art it makes me both want to draw and depressed beyond measure #god im so happy i finished this batch. man i gotta go easier on myself in the next one otherwise i will get an ulcer lol #anyway. ROBINS EGG IS SUCH FUN FIC i have so many scenes i STILL wanna draw. First priority? JON AND DAMI BEING CUTE #because they are babies and i wanna try my hand in drawing jon #gotta catch up to last chapters first tho. I hope you enjoy my silly takes and fanart for ur fic Calix!#fanfic fanart

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moraxsthrone · 1 year

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kaeya alberich is an avid clit slapper, go argue with a wall.

sometimes when he's eating you out, he'll stop and pull away just to give your tiny erection a few quick, hard spanks with his fingers. he lives for the way you whimper as your fists tighten and pull at his cerulean hair. but he always more than makes up for it by gently kissing your clit before sucking it back into his warm, soft mouth again.

at this point, it's basically a habit of his to hold the base of his cock and tap its thick head against your clit before he pushes it inside you. he loves the way it makes you gasp his name. he just gives you a crooked smile and there's a twinkle in his eye as he watches you arch your back for him.

kaeya especially loves pulling out in the middle of fucking you, his swollen cockhead slick with your cream. he moans at the way you cry out for him and the wet smack smack smack when he slaps it against your hard little pearl before gliding his whole dick all the way back inside your clenching hole with a single thrust.

but his personal favorite has to be the times he does it while he cums. he loves to release inside you, but occasionally he'll pull out just so he can slap his ultra-sensitive purple cockhead against your clit while his seed spills out of it. between the good fucking he just gave you and his hot cum squirting against your clit, you're more than likely cumming with him too.

⋆｡°✧❅✧°｡⋆

kaeya m.list

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lxndonorris · 2 months

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racing surprise for Lando - Lando Norris (SFS24)

fem!reader x Lando Norris Theme: Smut (you've been warned) in the midst of pre-season testing, Mclaren invited you to surprise Lando x word count: 2710+ taglist: @game-set-canet another edition to the suit fitting saga 2024 (SFS24). Quite similar but I hope you like the added twist. Oh and I needed that picture so dont blame me. Next one will hopefully be este, and if you have any request, for SFS24, testing or simply something else, dont be shy and hit me up!

The air crackles with anticipation as the new season of Formula 1 looms on the horizon, heralding a fresh chapter in Lando Norris's illustrious career as a professional racing driver. With the promise of new gear, a state-of-the-art racing suit, a meticulously crafted helmet, and a gleaming Mclaren race car awaiting him, excitement pulses through his veins like the roar of an engine.

Amidst the flurry of activity in the Mclaren garage, you stand, a silent observer disguised as one of the team members. Dressed in the team's iconic orange shirt, dark pants, a cap, and sporting a headset, you blend seamlessly into the backdrop, your heart aflutter with anticipation as you await Lando's arrival.

He initially invited you himself to join him here, but you had to decline. Unbeknownst to him, his team has already reached out to you, preparing a surprise for your boyfriend.

And then, like a whirlwind of energy and charisma, he enters the scene. Clad in his new racing suit, adorned with sponsor logos, he cuts a stroking figure. The fabric hugs his form in all the right places, accentuating his athletic build with precision and care. His curly locks framed his face, adding a touch of boyish charm to his rugged allure.

As Lando moves through the garage, his presence commands attention. There is confidence in his stride, a swagger in his step that speaks volumes about his self-assurance. He greets everyone with a warm smile and a handshake; his enthusiasm infectious. There is a genuine camaraderie between them, a sense of unity forged by their shared passion for racing.

With the assistance of two friendly mechanics who shield you from view, you watch as Lando prepares for his testing session. The air is thick with excitement and tension, a tangible buzz of anticipation that electrifies the atmosphere. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of his proximity that sends shivers down your spine.

Each step Lando takes seems to echo purpose, his eyes alight with a belnd of determination and curiosity.

You watch from your vantage point, hidden in plain sight among the team members. As a conversation turns to the upcoming training session, Lando's demeanor shifts slightly. A curious, shy smile played on his lips as he listens closely. With a hand on his hip, he leans in slightly, his posture relaxed yet attentive.

There is a quiet determination in his gaze, a hunger to extract every ounce of potential from the testing session. He understands the importance of these moments, recognizing them as opportunities to fine-tune his skills and familiarize himself with the nuances of the new car.

You can't help but admire the way the fabric hugs his body tightly, emphasizing the curves of his backside and the strength of his arms. His movements are fluid and purposeful, each gesture imbued with quiet confidence.

With each glance, your eyes trace the lines of his suit, lingering on the subtle details that hint at the layers beneath. You know that beneath the sleek exterior lies a network of tight undergarments—fireproofs designed to protect him.

This knowledge adds an extra layer of allure to his already magnetic presence, heightening the intensity of your admiration.

As the conversation draws to a close, Lando offers a grateful nod to his mechanics. With a sense of purpose, he turns his attention toward the track, eager to put their plans into action and unleash the full extent of his talents.

With practiced ease, Lando slips into the remaining racing gear—his gloves and a tight balaclava—each movement deliberate and precise. The helmet, adorned with beautiful colors and logos, completes his ensemble, its glossy surface reflecting the glow of excitement in his eyes.

With a playful twirl, he settles into the driver's seat, his grin widening as he prepares to start testing. With a loud roar, the engine comes to life, and slowly but steadily, he makes his way out of the garage. Your stomach tightens in a mixture of anticipation and pride.

Through the crackle of the radio, his voice rings out, a symphony of exhilaration as he tackles each corner with precision and finesse. You listen intently, your heart swelling with joy as he pushes the limits of his Mclaren. You know he is so happy to be back, and you can actually see him smiling when you close your eyes. His voice is a little rougher, yet it carries his joy and passion through the radio.

Once his session is over, he returns to the garage. As Lando emerges from the cockpit of his Mclaren, he lets out a jubilant cheer with a triumphant flex of his arms. Shaking your head, you can't believe him actually doing that. Licking your lips, you still can't tear your eyes away from his arse, filling his suit fully.

The testing had been a success, and he surpassed all expectations. Running a hand across his chest, he can't help but revel in the rush of adrenaline that still courses through his veins. The fabric of his racing suit clings to him, damp with sweat from the intensity of the session—a sensational sight that you missed during the winter break.

In one swift movement, he reaches up to remove his helmet and balaclava, revealing a mop of tousled curls and a flushed complexion beneath. His lips part slightly with a satsified smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he licks his lips, sending shivers down your spine. He looks so happy and excited, and you smile seeing him like that.

As he moves through the garage, shaking hands with his team members, he can't contain his joy. His tongue darts out playfully, a gesture of exuberance that shows his satisfaction with the achievements so far.

Lando chats with a few mechanics for a while, and you can tell the residual excitement from the testing session continues to surge through his veins, pulsating with every beat of his heart. He keeps stroking his chest, touching his arms, and subconsciously, he touches himself through his suit—just barely, yet it catches your attention.

It is as if the adrenaline of the track has infused his very being, filling him with an exhilarating energy that seems to amplify with each passing moment.

Entranced by his every move, the sound of his voice, and his cologne's scent still hovering all around you, you miss the opportunity to reveal yourself—Lando has already left for his private quarters.

Leaving your headset and cap behind, you rush after him and spot him strolling through the paddock. Unable to tear your eyes away from him, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moved, you follow him. Every step seems to exude confidence, joy, and self-confidence.

As he runs a hand through his messy curls, you can't help but notice the way his hair fell in disarray, framing his face in a way that is both endearing and alluring. There is a rawness to his appearance—a sense of vulnerability—that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, he runs a hand across his chest, a subtle gesture that speaks volumes about the excitement still running through his body. You can almost feel the electric energy radiating off him, a tangible reminder of the thrill of driving an F1 car.

In this moment, you are struck by the sheer magnetism of his presence, even though you're just looking at his beautiful back. And as he disappears into his quarters, leaving you to ponder the whirlwind of emitions he had stirred within you, you can't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration.

As you knock on his door, a nervous anticipation grips you, your heart pounding with uncertainty—how is he going to react?

"Coming." Lando's voice echoes through the door before it swings open, revealing your boyfriend standing right in front of you. With an almost shocked expression, your breath catches in your throat.

"Y/N?" He asks, and in an instant, his entire face lit up with a radiant smile that reaches his eyes, filling you with warmth and joy.

"Hi." You smile shyly, your face flushing with heat.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you closely. You melt into him, running your hands across his firm back.

"What are you doing here?" Lando smiles, separating himself just enough for his face to be mere inches away from yours. He places a hand on your cheek, tracing your skin with his fingertips.

"Surprising you." You motion for a few Mclaren team members to film the two of you from afar.

Both of you turn your heads and wave toward the camera.

"They offered to get me here; we just needed a few clips for their channel." You shrug, and he nods in agreement and curiousity.

"This is great," he leans into you, kissing you gently. You lock eyes with him for what feels like an eternity.

The film crew gives you a thumbs up, telling you that it's now time for some alone time.

As Lando welcomes you into his private quarters, a rush of excitement surges through you, mingling with the lingering traces of adrenaline from his testing session. Your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the contours of his chest, the fabric of his racing suit accentuating every curve and sinew.

He meets your gaze with a knowing smile, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he senses the admiration and desire in your gaze. There is confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that speaks of his comfort in his own skin.

"So, how was I?" With a playful grin, he steps closer, closing the distance between you until the warmth of his presence envelops you.

"Amazing." You lift your chin slightly, meeting his confidence with your own. "And you look the part too." Smirking, you lick your lips.

Without a word, he takes your hand and guides it to the fabric of his suit, allowing you to feel the sleek material beneath your fingertips.

"I know how much you like this on me," Lando breathes, locking his eyes with your own. However, you're unable to withstand his burning gaze and lower your eyes, following the movements of your hands instead.

As your hand traces the lines of his chest and arms, you can't help but marvel at the strength and resilience that lie beneath the surface. The fabric is cool to the touch, yet it seems to hum with the energy of the track, a tangible reminder of the passion and dedication that fuel his every movement.

"This feels so good." You breathe deeply while you keep stroking his chest, feeling his biceps, and watch his chest move with every breath he takes, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure deep down his throat.

"Fuck," Lando can't hold back a low moan, his hand now following yours closely, his body yearning for so much more. He leans his head back, embracing both of your hands now on his chest.

You know how much he loves to be teased, touched, and stroked. Effortlessly, you push all of his buttons and his most sensitive spots—his nipples, pecs, arms, and most importantly, his member filling his suit.

"Good." You whisper, leaning in to him, tracing the outlines of his stubble just above his lips. A shiver races down your spine, the rough texture of his beard contrasting with the softness of your touch. There is something undeniably alluring about the way his beard frames his lips, adding a touch of raw sensuality to his appearance.

With each passing moment, the desire to feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin grows stronger—a primal urge that threatens to consume you completely. You lean in, brushing your lips against his in a tender caress. The sensation of his beard against your skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

With your hand on his crotch, he moans softly against your lips. Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrender yourself to the heady rush of emotions. Your lips meet in a fervent kiss, craving his delicious taste.

"Y/N." Lando murmurs, his hands now steady on your waist, holding you close.

"Care to give me a show?" You bite his lower lip teasingly, causing him to chuckle. "I want to see all of you in that." Tugging at the zipper of his racing suit, you stroke him firmer, encouraging him to show off.

"Of course." He giggles, and you settle onto the sofa, anticipation tingling in the air, thick with the electricity of the moment. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lando takes center stage, spreading your legs to make some space. His movements are fluid and confident as he begins his private show.

With each flex of his muscles, his form seems to come alive, the contours of his body highlighted by the sleek fabric of his racing suit. He lets you feel his muscles tense, letting out more guttural growls.

"Very good." You smile, and with a playful smirk dancing on his lips, he turns around, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his firm back and arse. He bends to show off his butt even more, much to your amusement.

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to dance, his movements a mesmerizing combination of grace and athleticism. His hips sway to an invisible rhythm, and his body moves with a natural ease that shows off his innate charisma and confidence.

As he twirls and turns, the fabric of his suit seems to come alive as well, clinging to his form as he moves with effortless grace. With a slow and deliberate motion, he reaches for the zipper, his fingers tracing the line with teasing slowness.

As Lando slowly unzips his suit, his eyes never leave yours; their intensity like a flame igniting the air between you. His gaze is electric, a silnt invitation that sends shivers down your entire back. Hidden beneath his beautiful eyes lies hunger—a raw desire that mirrors the heat pulsating through your veins.

With each inch of fabric that melts away, inch by inch, he reveals the tight garments—a glimpse of the tight fireproofs. Easily, he slips out of the upper half of his suit, giving you a good look at his chest. His defined muscles barely conceiled, he flexes again, straining the fabric even more.

Lando closes the distance between you until you feel the warmth of his body radiating against your skin. His gaze is never wavering, pulling you so much closer.

"Fuck." You reach for his chest, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, as he licks his lips. With the sleeves of his suit dangling down his waist, he stands before you, his form outlined against the soft glow of the room, a vision of strength and sensuality that takes your breath away.

In that moment, as you drink in the sight of him, you know you want him.

You motion for him to sit down right next to you, and right away, you lean in, kissing him passionately.

Lando embraces your body against his, and at the same time, your hand slips underneath his suit. His skin is warm and tight; all of the tension is showing its effect on his body.

"Mhmmm." He purrs into your mouth, one of his hands firmly on his length, bulging against his clothes.

In one swift motion, you manage to get into his pants and pull his member out of his clothes, causing him to moan in agreement.

"That would be so good, Y/N." Fully aware of what you're about to do, you keep kissing him while simultaneously running your hand up and down his length.

With every breath he takes, Lando lets out guttural groans before leaning his head back against the sofa cushions.

Looking into his eyes, you bend down and take him into your mouth.

"That's what I meant." He swallows hard, running a hand through your hair.

Together, you easily catch up to each other's rhythm, moving as one. His husky, rough voice echoes through your mind as more and more drops of his taste cover your tongue.

Then, his body gets stiff and rigid, and he holds his breath before letting go of all this tension, pressure, and desire. It feels so good. Letting out a long, breathless moan, he relaxes quickly, leaning back even more. You let go of him, licking your lips to savor the taste.

Lando fondles with himself for a while while you catch your breath.

"This was so good." You sigh deeply before a chuckle leaves your wet lips. He smirks, leans in, and kisses you.

"Thank you for being here." Lando rubs his nose against yours gently.

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