#(that's where n gin's line's from)

[heckoffmate]

Local dominant mad scientist discovers his switch side

[ferrstappen]

SLUT! l MV1 imagine

a/n: hey! I’m alive, I hope some of you are alive as well and willing to read something 💘 this is short and just a random idea I had before diving into writing some longer pieces with more plot, but I really hope you like it and as you know, feedback is very very welcome!!! Also I’m sorry if it’s weird or any mistakes bc I wrote this on my phone 💘

Summary: this isn’t your first time being a WAG, but people don’t seem to like the idea of you ending your relationship with Joe Burrow and falling in love with Max.

Looking around, you could tell that this wasn't an ordinary place. The sound of engines revving, the vivid colors of various vehicles, and the hustle and bustle of multiple teams, engineers, sponsors, drivers, and fans walking around the paddock all added to the excitement. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold. The energy was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe taking it all in.

In your previous relationship, your boyfriend would make grand entrances at the stadium, sporting his fancy Cartier sunglasses and jamming to his favorite tunes. He wouldn't pay much attention to the photographers snapping away as he strolled past them, and you'd catch a glimpse of him from afar in a lavish suite. That was quite a contrast to your current situation, which you're still adjusting to.

You were greeted by a well-dressed individual who was sporting the logos of Red Bull, Oracle, and Honda all over their outfit. They handed you a VIP all-access paddock pass which had your name and headshot printed on it, along with details of whose guest you were. To top it off, they also put a Red Bull credential on your wrist. The assistant then guided you towards the power station, where you were hopping to finally catch Max after weeks of not seeing each other.

You never meant to be in this position. You were in a happy, stable, loving relationship, truly. But last year one night in Las Vegas, your boyfriend, Joe, was invited to the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and of course, you both attended, curious and excited about the event. Neither of you knew it would be the beginning of the end.

Your first meeting with Max was captured on camera.

Max and Joe, the reigning Formula 1 champion and the Cincinnati Bengals quarterback together was gold content for the Red Bull socials, and there you were in the back, knowing your place smiling at the interaction, but when you were least expecting it, the champion stretched his hand and introduced himself, catching you and your boyfriend off guard.

As soon as he spoke, I noticed his friendly yet polite tone. "Hi, I'm Max," he introduced himself with a warm smile. His simple gesture of introducing himself made him instantly likable and set him apart from the others in the crowd.

“Hi Max, I’m (y/n). Thanks for the invitation,” you shook the hand that wasn’t holding a can of Red Bull.

“Right. Max, this is my girlfriend. She’s the happiest here because she’s a Red Bull addict,” Joe added, earning a soft laugh from you and a smile from Max.

“Then you came to the right place, (y/n). The mini fridges are all yours, and I’m pretty sure the ones on the second floor have limited editions,”

You thought that was all you were going to see of him, barely catching him after his win to congratulate him, but oh were you wrong, seeing him with a warm gray pull-up hoodie and styled blond hair, sipping gin and tonic and waving his hand as people chanted his name to the tune of a song.

Tu Tu Du Du, Max Verstappen

Or something along those lines.

The moment he recognized you, a sudden rush of excitement and anticipation sent a buzz through your stomach that was impossible to ignore. You felt a mixture of nervousness and elation as he leaned in for a short cheek kiss, the scent of gin lingering on your nose as you briefly noticed the small mole on his upper lip. Despite the presence of your boyfriend standing behind you, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of emotions inside.

“I heard you ransacked the energy station,” A drunk Max Verstappen told you.

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and at the same time you felt Joe’s arms tight around your waist.

“There weren't any Red Bulls left on the building after you left, maybe I'll have to send a PR package your way,” Max slurred, taking a new sip from his gin and tonic glass.

You couldn’t answer because Joe was faster: “we’ll sure enjoy that, thank you. Wanna go mingle, babe?”

That was almost five months ago as you made your way in sunny Melbourne, doing your best to avoid prying eyes who were aware of the events that took place last November and how you left Joe Burrow the quarterback for Max Verstappen the racing driver.

But it’s not like you wanted to.

After the first box full of sugar free Red Bull arrived with a note, you left a message on his Instagram before posting a story, tagging him and the team.

The he started sending silly memes, followed by the description of the Red Bull ingredients written in Arabic while on Abu Dhabi.

In February, things had reached a point where it was impossible to ignore any longer. You knew it was time to end things with Joe, and when you did, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Suddenly, you were free to do as you pleased, to go where you wanted to go. And so, when Max invited you to go to Bahrain for testing, you jumped at the opportunity.

It was on this trip that you experienced your first date with Max. You both had such a great time together, laughing until your stomachs hurt. You tried your best to hold back your wandering eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the adorable mole on his lip. And then, when the night sky had blanketed the Middle East, he leaned in and kissed you, sending shivers down your spine. It was a magical moment that you would never forget.

But the next day, your first day on the track, a random person recognized you and rumors went crazy, name-calling, attacks, fans carrying signs “What happened with #9”, grown men calling you a bitch, a whore, a gold digger, jumping from one dick to another. It was so much that Max decided to send you to his home in Monaco, not even caring if you were there for the first Grand Prix of the season, he just needed you to be okay.

As you walked towards the energy station, the ground beneath your feet felt firm, yet your steps were hesitant and shy. You were not alone, though, as someone from the team was following your every move, as per Max's orders. The team wanted to ensure that you were safe and secure as you made your way towards the Red Bull hospitality. Once you arrived, a collective sigh of relief was released, and you waited patiently for Max to arrive. The anticipation in the air was palpable as everyone eagerly awaited his arrival.

You vividly remember that moment when he finally arrived at the paddock, dressed in his Red Bull shirt, shorts, and cap, looking so handsome and sporty. You couldn't help but rush towards him, feeling a surge of excitement and joy. As you hugged him tightly, he smiled and hummed softly, clearly enjoying your touch and warmth. You noticed that he was trying to register your scent, perhaps to make the moment even more intimate and memorable.

You knew he was about to lean in for a cheek kiss, but something inside you urged you to do something bolder and more passionate. So, without hesitating, you turned around, making sure his larger frame was facing the outside, away from prying eyes. Then, you carefully grabbed his face with both hands, feeling his strong jawline and stubble under your fingers. You looked deeply into his eyes, savoring the moment, before leaning in and kissing his full lips.

The kiss was electrifying and unexpected, taking him by surprise, but he quickly responded with equal passion and tenderness. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, as you lost yourself in the blissful moment. It was a moment of pure connection and love, one that you would always treasure in your heart.

Despite being called all sorts of names by people, you refused to let it get to you. You were determined to continue showing your deep admiration and affection for Max, no matter what others thought or said. You believed that your feelings were genuine and authentic, and you were not going to let anyone else's opinion sway you. Despite the challenges and obstacles you faced, your love for Max remained unwavering and waiting to grow bigger.

[hier--soir]

ripe

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: a night out with old friends helps you and joel realise what’s been missing in your relationship. warnings/tags: pre-outbreak, set in the early 2000s, early thirties joel my lover boyy, bisexual reader, established relationship, that one shit stirring friend, brief alcohol consumption and piv sex at the onset, brief masturbation [m] in the bath, a little ass eating and fingering, a little spitting, pegging, dirty talk, praise, dildo is described as "your cock" multiple times, reach around hand job you will always be famous, they talk each other through it, the word hole is used 11 times but it feels like 100, also they're in love okay bye. word count: 5.3k masterlist a/n: this is being posted as a part of the PMAMC organised by @wannab-urs ! if you wanna read more glorious pegging fics for pp characters, a masterlist of everything being posted this week will be shared by gin soon! <3 x much thanks to @bageldaddy for holding my dick while i wrote this, for the edit, and for reminding me that where there is gape, there must also be affection x

Oil Can Harry’s is dark and loud; packed enough that condensation drips off the walls around you and makes the hair at the base of your neck frizz.

Packed into a sweaty booth, Joel’s flannel amidst all the glitter and hairspray and fruity cocktails of the drag night makes you grin. Your oldest friends fawn over him, endeared by the way he talks, the way he stands, the way he looks at you.

He smiles, warm and sheepish as they regale him with stories from years ago. Blushes when they remind him that he’s the first cock in a long line of cunts. Squeezes your knee beneath the table when they assert that he must be doing something right to have been kept around this long.

He settles in fast, lips slick and eyes glazed. Stops flustering while ordering Wet Pussys and Cock Sucking Cowboys, but still raises an eyebrow when a friend asks you, isn’t there anything you miss about it?

About what?

Dating women.

You roll your eyes, the sharp tang of vodka beneath your tongue as you shake your head. No.

S’not all that different, Joel offers up, smiling easily. Right?

So you tell him, No, and then, I mean, it is. But good different.  

But your cheeks have gone hot, eyes downcast as you sip a pink drink and try not to think about what exactly you miss. But Joel, fingers firm on your thigh, knows. He always knows.

So later when you’re in his bed, thighs pressed flush to your chest and he’s sinking inside your wet heat, it’s clear he isn’t letting up that easily. 

“You jealous?” he hums, elated and almost taunting, revelling in the way you sound as he fucks you. “Miss being the one fuckin’ someone this good?”

“Oh fuck off,” you whine, breathlessly embarrassed, gripping his shoulder and rutting your hips up against his, chasing the high that’s already tingling in your stomach.

“Naw, I want you to tell me.” He leans in, all ears for the dirty confession waiting to spill from your lips, loving it. “You miss your cock, baby?”

His hips press deeper, and the confession leaves your lips in a gasp. “Yes, fuck, okay yes I miss it.”

“Mm, you gonna show me it sometime?”

You feel your face go slack, stomach tightening at the thought, and Joel pushes further, harder.  

“Yeah baby, that’s what you want,” he goads, reaching between your bodies to press his fingers to your clit. “Want to fuck me, yeah? Bend me over and show me how much you miss it?”

You come with blood rushing in your ears and your hand gripping his ass, mind a blur of images of you being the one fucking him.

The next morning, sorely hungover and still tangled in his bedsheets, he asks if you were serious.

“Serious about what?” you ask, throat hoarse, eyes still closed.

His hand slips down your back to grip the flesh of your ass, the tip of his middle finger pressing dangerously close to your asshole until your eyelids crack open and you look at him. Brain ticking over, catching up slowly, eyes widening when you understand his train of thought.

When you don’t respond, head pounding and heart racing, he says, “If that’s what you want I’d—”

But caught up in the moment, in your own bashfulness, you interrupt him. Face warm at the idea of him having to placate you the morning after a drunken confession, you kiss him and say, “Don’t worry about it, okay?”  

Joel goes a little quiet, but kisses you back with fervour. Sucks your lower lip into his mouth and rolls on top of you, not letting you get out of bed until well into the afternoon.

It’s not until a month later that it all finally becomes clear. 

The house is oddly quiet when you get home.

Your living room is lit up by lamps across the space, but the television is off, and the couch cushions look undisturbed.

“Joel?” you call softly, stepping into the kitchen, pausing in confusion when you don’t find him there either.

You drop your purse on the counter and rifle through it for your phone, pulling up your text thread with him to reread his messages from a few hours ago.

You staying out late?

Not tonight, AJ has work early tomorrow. I should be home by 9. Meet me there? x

Perfect. See you at 9 x

The clock on your microwave reads 9:24 but you can’t hear a peep from anywhere in the house. Not a creaking floorboard or a shower running or even a snoring boyfriend.

“Babe, are you here?”

Nothing seems amiss at all until you reach the bathroom and find the door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the hallway as soft little sounds float out to your ears. Quiet murmurs punctuated by water lapping against porcelain.

“Joel?” You crack a knuckle against the door, careful not to nudge it open without his permission. “You okay?”

A rough inhale sounds behind the door and you pause, heartrate spiking a little. But then his voice calls through the wood, a little stilted as he says, “You can come in.”

Joel Miller hardly fits in your bathtub. All the times he’d joked about trying to squeeze in there with you, or when he’d come over with a sore back but insisted on a shower instead. But seeing him now, torso submerged in the water, muscled legs propped up against the wall with his hand resting between his thighs… you certainly aren’t complaining to see your broad boyfriend cramped up in your bath, touching himself.

“Hello there,” you murmur, bending to press a kiss to his sweaty temple. The tips of his curls are damp, frizzing around his ears as he smiles up at you. “Indulging yourself tonight I see.”

“You got no idea,” he replies, chin tilting upward as he stares you square in the face.

You smile at his flushed cheeks, at the muscle in his bicep flexing as he touches himself. Your gaze follows the veins in his arm, the flick of his wrist, but when you look into the water you pause. His cock is a rich red colour, hard and throbbing where it rests, neglected against his stomach. His thick fingers disappear past his balls, curling slowly out of your sight.

“Joel,” you exhale, face warming as you watch, slowly understanding. “Are you…?”

A harsh stream of air bursts from his nostrils as he meets your eyes, cheeks burning hotter by the second.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he admits gruffly. “Not since that night at the bar.”

“Fuck,” you shake your head, frowning a little. “I thought you were just… Joel, I’m sorry I brushed you off that night—”

“Naw,” he tuts quickly, brushing the apology away with a jerk of his chin. “I should’ve said.”

There’s a brief silence, your brain racing to catch up, a slow smile slipping across your face.

“Read that a bath helps,” he says then, gaze heavy. “Soft and loose the website said.”

And whatever you’d been about to say, whatever thought was bubbling in your mind, slips away in an instant.

In its place, just a bone deep, aching love for this man. It’s clear in his eyes; tenderness, and care swirling in his stare. Endless brown, struck with adoration, clearly saying, I want to do this for you, with you.

Throat tight, you lower onto your knees beside the tub. “S’it feel good?”

A breath rattles through his chest, and he nods again.

You lean closer, craning your neck to try and see better. Find yourself wanting to catch the exact way he presses his fingers inside himself. How he curls them, massaging inside himself. But he notices and pulls his hand away, gripping his cock instead and grunting.

“Looked through your stuff.”

“Hmm?” You meet his eye again, mouth dry.

“The drawer in your closet,” he exhales, eyelids fluttering as he strokes himself. “Found your… I don’t know.”

“My what?”   

“The harness,” he grunts out, fist tightening around his cock. The tip rests out of the water, flushed an angry mauve colour, little beads of pearly come oozing from his slit. “All the… I don’t know what the fuck you call ‘em. You know what I mean, alright?”

“Joel.” You laugh a little, endeared by how bashful he can be, even as he touches himself in front of you. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby.”

“M’not.”

“No?” You smile, voice low and breathy now, liquid heat sparking in your veins the longer the idea percolates through your mind. “So you want me to fuck you?”

“You know I do.”

“You’re gonna let me put my cock in you, stretch you out just right for me, the way I let you do to me every night?”

“Fuck.” Joel’s eyes pinch shut, fist tightening around his cock.

You reach in and yank out the plug, watching as water begins to spin and gurgle, and Joel grips the edges to pull himself up. The water drips off him in thick beads, pouring from his fingertips, down the centre of his chest, keeping the curls at the base of his cock tight and dark. 

He’s over the lip of the tub in a second, crowding you against the sink with a thick arm on either side of you, wet chest darkening the fabric of your blouse, mouth slotting against mouth. Steam warmed lips smother yours, tongue snaking out to press inside your mouth, and he swallows down every little moan and gasp of excitement you feed into his kiss. His cock is warm against your stomach and his hips stutter back every time you grind the buckle of your belt against him, grinning into his mouth.

“Gonna make it good for me?” He grips your face in both hands. Tilts your chin up and smears nasty kisses over your jaw, down your neck to the collar of your shirt, skin smarting where his teeth snap at it. “Take care of me the way I do for you?”

“You know I will,” you pant, eyelids fluttering as he sucks at hollow of your throat. “Fuck, I bet you’re so tight.”

Joel releases a wrecked, gravelly moan against your skin and then he’s gripping your arm, nudging you forward, past the threshold and into your dimly lit bedroom. The closet is open, third drawer down hanging limply out from the chest. Inside you can see that things have been shifted around, looked at. And on your bed, there’s a dildo. Heat rises in your chest as you stare at it. Thick and long and red, with a curved tip and raised silicone decorating shaft to give the illusion of veins.

Joel drapes an arm around your waist, holding you back against his bare chest. The thick weight of his cock presses against the base of your spine and you sigh, grinding back into him.

“Remembered you sayin’ it was your favourite.” He nips at your neck, inhaling as his nose presses into your hair. Your chest swells at that, and you turn your head, let your lips find his in a soft kiss.

That hand on your waist drifts down until his palm is cupping your sex through your pants, fingers pressing firmly over the inseam there. You sigh into his mouth, hand falling overtop his to keep it in place.

“It is my favourite,” you murmur into the kiss. “But we’re gonna start much smaller tonight, hmm?”

Joel makes a vague noise in the back of his throat, dark eyes searching yours.

“Don’t think I can handle it?”

“You’d be cruisin’ for a bruisin’, baby.”

Somehow, he blushes deeper than before, and clears his throat.

 “Alright.”  

He watches on as you dip a hand into the drawer. You gravitate to glass. Thick rose quartz with a gorgeous, rounded base. But you push it away, knowing it won’t work with your harness. You trace the length of a pretty mauve cock, ribbed for your pleasure—or his—with preternaturally large balls. Still too long. Everything too long, too thick, too much. But then you see it. Pale blue silicone, nestled beneath silk rope ties and a set of handcuffs you guys hadn’t used in in a while. You shift things away and pick it up.

Soft and smooth; it’s maybe 6 inches long with a little curve towards the end, and it’s oh so pretty in your hand. You grab a bottle of lube and turn to put them on the bed, smiling at the way his dark eyes focus on the items. So curious, so filled with desire, with eagerness to please, to let you do this to him, for him, with him. The trust on his face warms your chest and sets your heart racing.

Joel lands softly on the mattress as you reach back in. Fingers meet leather and soon enough he’s watching as you peel your pants down your legs, your underwear. Undoing the buttons on your blouse as he strokes his cock, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open. Only when you’re bare do you slip your legs into the harness, sighing as black leather tickles against your skin on the way up, and situate it around your hips. Only a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, watching him see you like this for the first time.

Pulling and twisting straps until it’s perfectly snug, you crawl up the bed to straddle his hips. His skin is warm and wet against yours, and his hands fall to your hips in seconds, wide eyes admiring the contraption fixed to your waist. He toys with the straps, eyeing the little silver fasteners, and then glides a finger around the inside circumference of the o-ring, breathing a little deeper now.

“S’nice,” he compliments, looking back up at your face. “You’re… you…”

“What?”

He shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “You’re gorgeous.”

You stare down at him for a moment; the hard set of his jaw, the strong line of his nose. Lean in and kiss him, softly this time. Whisper, so are you, against his lips and smile when he laughs.

Tapping his side, you get off and urge him to turn over. “Let me show you.”

His broad body twists, falling to land on his front with his legs bent, weight balanced on his knees and forearms. You trail featherlight fingers over his thick shoulder blades, down the strong line of his spine. Touch the little dimples at the small of his back, and then lean down to kiss them. Slowly, one and then the other. You feel his breath hitch a little and smile against his skin, landing on your knees between his calves and letting your hands fall over the muscled cheeks of his ass. Squeezing, kneading the flesh there with tender hands, and then pushing them apart, baring him to you.

“Oh,” you breathe quietly, eyes trained on the dark hair on his skin, the tight little hole between his cheeks. “So pretty, Joel.”

You sigh into the crease of his ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his cheeks as your tongue flicks out to glide over his hole. Still wet from the bath, he tastes like soap and warmth and Joel. His body goes tense for a second, back muscles flexing as he adjusts to the new sensation.

“Y’ain’t gotta do that—”

“I want to.”

You kiss the base of his spine again. Give him a moment to tell you he doesn’t want it, or he doesn’t like it. But seconds pass, and he stays silent, so you grin and lean down.  Eyes closed now, you lick him again; soft little strokes of your tongue from his balls to his tight hole until his body goes soft and lax and he’s exhaling little sighs into the pillows.

“Fuck,” he says. “So this is what I’ve been missin’, hmm?”

You hum against him, the corner of your mouth ticking up into a little smile as you prod your tongue against his rim, urging him to relax more so you can press deeper. As he opens up for you, you squeeze his hips gratefully, fingers soft and kind against his skin.

“So good for me,” he continues breathlessly, almost babbling now, stream of consciousness pouring from his lips in between sharp gasps and low grunts. “Got the prettiest little mouth, I wish I could see it baby—fuuuck—that’s it, good girl.”

Your fingers flutter a steady rhythm over the skin of his thighs. Caressing the dark hairs there, the twitching muscles, humming when he shivers beneath your touch. The harness digs into the flesh at the inside of your thighs, at your hips, and you almost moan at the familiar bite of it. Relish in the way it pinches at your skin when you bend and raise your ass in the air, working him open around your tongue.

With your nose pressed against his skin, you lathe messy kisses against his hole. Feel the way it clenches beneath your tongue and whine, inhaling the natural musk of him as you go. Your mind a blur with soft skin and rough hair and tight tight tight around your tongue.

Drunk on the taste of him, you let your hand drift from his thigh around his waist. Float across his stomach, forefinger dragging over his belly button, his happy trail, down down until your fingers glide over the slick head of his cock. Joel jumps a little, hypersensitive, and exhales a rough moan as your fingers wrap around his length and slowly begin to stroke. With the steady movement of your hand his asshole begins to pulse beneath your tongue and so you pull back to watch it. Admire the way it flutters and clenches. Quick, so fast your mind can hardly process it, you’re collecting saliva in your mouth and letting it drool past your lips, wet and messy as it pools over his asshole. Joel’s cock throbs in your hand and he groans. You think he even arches his back a little, his entire body pleading for you to just put your mouth back on him. But you take a second; watch your slick spit turn his skin shiny and grin, raising hand to suck your fingers into your mouth and then press your middle finger against him.

The tip of your finger presses forward, working to relax that tight ring of muscle, and he exhales heavily.

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you tell him, voice thick with want as you pull your eyes off his ass to meet his stare.

“Then quit playin’ around and fuck me.” He presses back against you and groans when your finger slips inside his ass.

“Hey,” you warn, curling it slowly inside him. So warm and tight, unforgiving at first as you try to stroke at his insides. “Slow, okay?”

“Just want to feel you.” It’s clear on his face too. Pupils dilated, vulnerability splashed across his features with nowhere to hide.

“You will,” you soothe, pulling your hand back only to work a second finger inside. Kiss his skin again. “Let me take care of you.”

He doesn’t voice any complaints after that. Too busy with his face pressed against the pillows, drooling and grunting as you stretch him out around your fingers, his tight hole clamped down around the digits. You don’t touch his cock again, too worried he’ll come before you can really give him your all, but he gives pitiful little ruts toward the mattress. Soon enough his movements become so needy, so often, that, with a pang in your chest, you figure it must be painful. You almost ask how long he was touching himself before you came home, but then he’s interrupting the thought, reaching back to grip your wrist, wide eyes pleading with you from over his shoulder.

“Alright, love,” you murmur, pulling your fingers back and nodding. “I think you’re ready.”

Resting back on your heels, you grab the dildo and work it into the ring on your harness. Checking once, twice, to make sure it’s stable, before opening the bottle of lube. You squirt some onto your fingers, some directly onto the tip of the cock, and begin working it over the length, admiring the way it turns shiny beneath your touch.

“S’a pretty cock baby,” Joel admires, cheeks flushed. He watches you over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you stroke silicone, lube warming between your palm and the shaft.

“You like it?” He nods and your chest warms with pride at the way his eyes darken, gaze darting continuously from your face to the piece between your legs. “Well, you’re gonna love how it feels.”

A fresh pump of lube onto your fingers and you’re shifting forward, on your knees again, lathering it onto his hole, smiling at the squelch as you pump your fingers inside him and push it in.

And then, soon enough, pale blue meets dark pink. Prods and presses, soft at first, and then firmer as he relaxes for you. Lube rolls down the shaft in rivulets, pooling against puckered skin, drooling lower to coat his balls, and a low sound rumbles from Joel’s chest. When you pause, his chin ticks to the side and he peers past his shoulder to look at you.

“You good?” he asks.

“Mhm. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Joel shivers when your hand lands at the base of his spine, thumb resting in the cleft of his ass, right above where you’ve started to press the tip inside him. The skin beside his eyes tightens, and he nudges his hips back into you, almost imperceptibly. You shiver at the sight, a sharp flush of arousal sparking between your thighs as you admire the plump shape of his ass. Like a ripe piece of fruit, begging to be split open.  

Joel chuckles knowingly; can see it in your eyes, the way your mouth hangs open. “Come on now. I know you’re dying for it, baby.” 

You grip his hip to keep him steady, cock notched against his opening, and continue pressing forward. Just gentle rolls of your hips at first, making sure everything is wet enough, checking in every now and then. But once the rounded tip pushes inside, Joel starts to squirm. His skin is flushed a deep red, beads of sweat rolling down his back, and you stroke his skin to soothe him.

“Joel?”

“Need you inside me.” His voice cracks a little on the last word,

“Shit, okay,” you exhale, fingers tightening on his waist. Your eyes leave the side of his face, locked on where your cock is steadily disappearing into him, and you press forward, bottoming out in one fell swoop. Leather meets his skin and the sounds he makes are none you’ve ever heard before. Deep, rumbling groans that come from the base of his stomach and force their way out of his throat. Tanned fingers grapple with your bedsheets, searching for an anchor as you drag your hips back and little and then feed your cock into him again.

You curse under your breath, unable to look away from how his hole gapes around the silicone, opening up for your every thrust.

“So fucking tight,” you whisper, awed as he ruts his ass back against you. Your fingers dig into his flesh, holding him open so you don’t miss a thing. “You look so good this, baby.”

Words are lost to him though, only able to form incoherent grunts and mumbles of your name as you deliver steady, deep strokes into his ass. It’s a slick glide now, almost no resistance left as you pump your cock into him.

“Talk to me,” you urge, sweat dribbling down your temples and smearing across your neck. “Wanna know how it feels.”

“Feels—” Joel chokes out, voice a thin, broken rasp. “A lot.”

“Yeah?”

“So fuckin full,” he says. “God, you’re so good, feels—fuck, feels so good.”

You moan a little, eyes glazing over as you pick up the pace, fucking him harder, hand between his shoulder blades as you press him flat against the mattress. And those rough noises he makes only urge you on, encouraging you to press a foot into the mattress at his side and push a little deeper until he’s gasping, thighs spasming below you.

“Shit,” you whimper, face screwing up as you watch his hand drift beneath his stomach. “I knew it, knew you’d love this.”  

You tug on his hips, pulling him back onto his knees so you can force his hand away and replace it with your own. Slick fingers wrap around his cock, the two of you cursing in unison at the way he pulses against your warm palm.

“Turn over for me.” Your fingers prod at the soft flesh around his hip as you pull out. You stare at the way his hole gapes open for a second, fluttering around the empty space where your cock has just been, and feel your cunt clench in response. “Please, I want to see your face.”

He lets you guide him, careful hands on his arms, his waist, until he lands on his back. A little unsure, his thighs fall apart so you can rest between them, and you give him a reassuring nod.

“That’s perfect,” you say, rubbing his thighs as you tilt them open wider, caressing his balls as you line yourself up with him again. “Doing so good for me, you’re perfect.”

And when you make contact, slipping in easily now, his stiff cock jolts and he lets out a ragged moan, reaching out for you.

Joel’s heavy hand lands on the base of your stomach, fingers twitching against the harness there.

“Wanna touch you,” he says, eyebrows pinched with need.

“I know, I know,” you murmur under your breath, smiling down at him. “Just let me take care of you, I wanna make you come like this, okay? Need to see it.”  

In response he just tucks his fingers around the top of the harness, holding on as you fuck into him, hot and heavy. Long, strong strokes that have his cock twitching against his stomach, pre-come dribbling from his tip as he just fucking takes and takes and takes.

“Keep talkin’ to me,” he pleads.

“You’re taking it so well,” you say, watching him keen under your praise. The skin on his chest glows with sweat and you lean forward to kiss his sternum. In response his fingers card through your hair, holding you to him as you mould your hips against his over and over.

“I love you.” You kiss the words into his skin, mouth falling open when he groans and starts raising his hips to meet yours, thrust for thrust. “So good for me, I love you, baby.”

“I love you,” he repeats, dazed and out of it when you pull back to look at his face again. You can tell he’s close; can see it in the twitch of his fingers, the shake of his thighs. “Shit.”  

And so you grip his knee with one hand and his cock with the other, pressing him open wider and stroking his length in time with your thrust. His eyes sharpen and he cries out. A harsh, high noise that makes your stomach tighten and your hair stand on end. And then he’s panting, telling you, fuck, right there, right fucking there, keep goin’.

His chest heaves below you, soft stomach moving fast and hard as you hold his knee to the side, griding your cock against that perfect little spot. Joel’s jaw pulls taut, veins thrumming in his neck as he holds his breath, seemingly fighting against the intensity of the feeling.

Your back aches, muscles on fire, but you push through, desperate to see the look on his face when he comes like this for the first time. And Joel must sense your determination, that burning need inside of you, because he locks eyes with you and nods.

“That’s it, baby,” he tells you. “Fuck me like I fuck you, that’s—shit, that’s perfect.”

Spurred on, your fingers tighten around the base of his cock and you slow your pace to a steady grind, rubbing the tip against where you know it feels best. He tells you as much, with the way his breathing starts to stutter and his nods become slow, lazy drags of his head.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, eyelids fluttering half closed. “Gonna…. fuck, I’m gonna come, baby.”

You watch the muscles in his abdomen pull tight, feel his hand land on your waist, propelling you forward to keep fucking him as his high creeps up and up inside of him, until you say let go, I’ve got you, come for me, and it all falls apart.

Thick white spurts from his ruddy tip, slicking your knuckles and painting your tits in pearly streaks that drip down your stomach. Joel’s groaning, teeth bared as his eyes loll back. The veins in his neck deep blue and pulsing, face a dark crimson as he shakes beneath you. Some of his come even lands on his own chest, and you moan at the sight, still fucking into him, trying to prolong it for as long as possible. He bats your hand away, fingers tangling tight and desperate around yours, and you watch in awe as come continues to dribble from his untouched cock. Streams of white that roll down his shaft, past his taut balls to where you’ve still got him stuffed to the brim.

“Ohh,” you murmur in delight, admiring the way his come looks on your cock, streaks of white on blue as you fuck him. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. God, you look so good right now.”

It all gets a bit too much for him after that. Fingers squeezing at your thighs, mouth twisted up as he murmurs, that’s it, baby, that’s all I got, and you ease yourself out of him, despite knowing you could probably keep milking him for all he’s worth and he’d just moan and take it because he loves you.

Instead, you watch as Joel’s legs go limp against the mattress, hovering over him, trailing your fingers softly against his hairy calves, catching your breath.

“Holy shit,” he rasps, reaching up to rub a hand over his face. You laugh quietly and press a little kiss against his knee.

A sticky mix of come and lube dribbles from the tip of the cock, dotting against his skin, and you apologise softly, fingers coming up to start removing the harness. He just smiles, body spent but eyes soft and loving as he watches you fret. Rapt beneath the weight of his gaze, you pause, cheeks aching as you smile down at him.

“Good?” you ask hopefully.

“Great.”

Pride sweeps through you and your smile only grows as you finally remove the harness, peeling it from your legs and nudging it away. You reach for his hand and he grips it between both of his, bringing it up to his mouth to lay soft kisses against your palm, the tips of your fingers.

“I love you,” you tell him again, and the feeling swims in your guts and burns the inside of your chest. It’s all you can think as he presses your hand to his cheek and nuzzles against it – that this is all you could ever hope to have and to keep. This beautiful, loving man who you want to make feel this good for the rest of your lives. He repeats the words against your skin, drowsy and earnest, and you know he must be feeling the exact same way.

“Don’t move. Let me get you some water,” you whisper, shifting to get off the bed, but he catches your wrist as you pull back, shaking his head lazily. 

“Don’t go far,” Joel murmurs. “Just gotta catch my breath, alright? And then I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll be seein’ stars.”

thank you for reading! x

[f1girliefics]

In Love with a Red Flag

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: To say that you hated him wasn’t accurate. But you didn’t like him. He was exactly the type of guy you kept a distance from. And yet, he will be the closest to you.

A/N: I realise this idea is not unique, shout-out to all the other amazing writers who wrote a similar piece!

“Ferrari PR team came up with a solution to solve the problem. Together with the Mercedes PR team, we agreed that the best course of action would be to have you and Charles play pretend.”

You looked at Toto in disbelief. 

You and Charles? Play pretend?

You knew that due to Ferrari’s latest issues with their cars, along with Mercedes’ own issues became such an issue that the teams began to lose fans.

So, PR being PR sat down and came up with a wicked idea.

Having you and Charles date, well, fake date. 

According to both teams, you would become the next phenomenon and the fans would come right back.

All Toto could do was simply nod.

You let out a long sigh.

You have always tried your best to avoid Charles. He was exactly the type of guy you kept a good distance from. You knew about his method of dating. 

The women he dated and how often he changed girlfriends. It was a huge red flag. 

Much like his car, red all over.

You turned and looked at Charles who was just as surprised if not more than you. 

“I will be looking forward to working with you, Charles.” You said with a smile as you looked at him. 

You were on a yacht with him.

Soft launch as the teams called it. They knew the paparazzi would be watching. All you had to do was to act all lovely-dovely but not do too much.

You two being on the same boat would be enough.

With an ice cream in one hand, you headed to the deck, trying to get a little tan during your weekend off.

Charles soon joined you, sitting down next to you, you moved a bit closer to him.

“There’s a guy on the boat in front of us, he has a huge camera, and yet he thinks we didn’t notice him.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Charles smiled and so did you. “You know last year… in Hungary… you had that press event with the fans.”

“Oh, yeah! That was fun, I even wore a traditional dress. Kalocsai, I believe it’s called.”

“That one, yes. I remember, what about it?”

“I remember you being so… beautiful.”

“Thank you. But where did this come from?”

“You avoid me. I noticed you avoid me and Carlos. Why? Do you hate Ferrari that much?”

“Red is not really my colour.” You say, avoiding his eyes. “Especially not red flags.” You said before you got up and headed into the yacht. 

The paparazzi sure got a nice picture.

The same afternoon, you were all over the news. You did it. One step closer to the finish line.

You thought of this as if it was another race.

You just had to get to the finish line. This time around, you didn’t care about the placements.

You just wanted this to be over with.

The next time you had to go out with Charles was during a charity event. You were given a beautiful silver dress to wear while Charles was in a black suit.

He looked good. Probably way too handsome for his own good.

You didn’t like how he didn’t make it easy to keep a distance. He was kind, attentive, and really fucking handsome.

He had an arm around you at all times.

“I will bring us something to drink.”

“A gin tonic would be lovely.” You replied and he nodded.

This was the only time he let you out of his arms. And if you were honest. You kinda missed it.

No.

This can’t be. 

You cannot fall for him. You will not!

Toto walked over to you, complimenting your dress and dedication.

“This little PR thing works like a charm. Our team gained almost half a million new followers since last week.” Of course that is all he would care about. For now, at least, Toto had a sweet spot for you so it was only a matter of time for him to save you from this.

Fans come and go.

But your contract with him was clear. And even without that, he liked you very much. He often said you are like a younger sister to him.

“Good to know at least the plan worked.” Was your reply?

“And what about you and Charles?” He asked and you were a bit taken aback. “You two play your parts a little too well.”

“Oh please, like I would fall for a guy like him.” You replied and took a sip from your glass.

Toto only laughed a little. 

You however failed to notice that Charles heard everything you said.

He simply paid his part and handed you your new drink.

On your way back home, Charles was sitting in the back of the limo with you.

“What did Toto say to you?” He asked suddenly and you turned from the window to look at him.

“He said our teams gained a lot of new fans. He looked excited about it.”

“Anything else?” 

“Hm?”

“Did he ask about anything else?”

“No, he then just started to talk about the new sponsors.” 

“I see.” Was his simple reply. 

The next planned date was a dinner in a restaurant.

You got to wear casual clothes and feel like a human again. 

You planned on eating possibly the best food you can find.

So you ordered a nice juicy hamburger with fries and a huge lemonade. Then you ordered a steak with mashed potatoes.

Charles looked rather impressed that you could eat so much.

If you were honest, you had a great time with him. You two were talking a lot. He showed you a side which not many people could see.

“Can I ask you something?” He said, suddenly becoming very serious. 

“Sure.”

“When you were talking with Toto last week, you said something which really stuck with me. You said you wouldn’t fall for a guy like me. What did you mean by that?”

“I-“ this took you off guard. Should you be honest? But you also didn’t want to lie. “Everyone knew about your dating life. It was no secret and… it is a huge red flag.”

“Red flag?”

“Yes. You date one woman then you date their friend… it is a red flag.”

“And that’s why you avoided me?” 

“Yes.” You said right away, which probably wasn’t the best.

You could see your words hurt him. 

You wanted to say something else but then he suddenly stood up and excused himself to the bathroom.

You should have said something. 

But you didn’t. And it hunted you for the upcoming weeks.

“You did good, Y/N. P3!”

“Thank you, Toto!” You drove another round, smiling and waving at the fans even if they couldn’t see you. 

Max, P1, Charles, P2 and you, P3. It was a good race.

But you felt so awkward around Charles.

As they took you to your interviews, you suddenly stopped Charles.

“Charles.”

“We have an interview to do.” He wanted to walk away but you caught him.

“I misjudged you. I wanted to tell you back at the restaurant. I misjudged you. I had a great time with you, even if it was all pretend. I needed you to know.” Your assistant came to get you to see why you weren’t coming, so you headed to the interview.

Charles soon followed you. 

You had one week left.

One week of fake dating.

The last seven days. 

Why did it make you sad?

You should have known, but ultimately, you fell in love.

You fell in love with a red flag.

And you wanted to tell him, but how?

It was all too much.

For the last week, the teams came up with a simple idea, something to give a base to your upcoming breakup.

It was meant to be easy.

You should act like you hate each other, possibly even argue a little here and there. You two should look like you two hate one another. 

But, it didn’t exactly go as planned.

You smiled too much, you laughed too hard. It didn’t look like you were a couple ready to break up, you looked like the exact opposite. 

You were a couple fully in love.

At least you were.

You two ended up in a café, enjoying your coffee and tea while you had a small conversation. 

“What you said, before the interview last week. I understand how my actions can seem, and how my dating life looks from the eyes of an outsider. It looks bad… very bad and I don’t blame you or anyone for thinking that way about me. But I’m thankful for your kindness. It took me a while to realize that I used to do those things because none of them was the one I was looking for. But you… you are so different from them. I understand this might be sudden but I cannot be the only one who feels this way.”

“You are not.” You interrupted him, hoping to ease his inner dilemma. You smiled at him as he visibly let out a long sigh. 

He moved closer to you, and you leaned into him, pulling him down for a sweet and short kiss.

You could almost hear the cameras click. Instead, all you could focus on was his scent, his smile and his taste.

You sat back down in your chair, enjoying the sun, smiling.

The next day you broke the news to your teams. Toto was the first to congratulate you. 

He knew, of course, he would. He knew you and Charles would end up together. One way or another.

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part one

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

status: completed

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 1.1k

The thing was, you didn’t plan on getting laid tonight. 

After a couple of days trying to settle in at Barcelona and looking for your lost luggage, all you wanted to do was to finally start your vacation. You just wanted to relax and experiencing the night life in Barcelona was definitely a good way to officially kick it off. 

So there you were at the bar of an (apparently) exclusive night club in the city–the location was emailed to you by Derek with a VIP pass and a note that said, ‘have fun ;)’–nursing your second, half-empty glass of mojito, the speakers blasting rhythmic reggaeton music, when a woman slid into the space next to you, cool and confident with the way she leaned on her elbows against the counter as she gave the bartender her order in smooth spanish, “A gin rickey, please.”

The woman looked to be several years older than you–and taller, too, even with your heels on–and maybe it was the alcohol or the proximity but there was no stopping yourself from openly admiring her. Her black, cropped top and her tight, high-rise pants revealed perfectly broad shoulders and toned arms, as well as the taught lines of her stomach. When your eyes travelled back to her face, you found her looking at you with a raised brow and immediately, your cheeks warmed. The fact that you were gawking shamelessly and got caught doing so… just wow.

Words of apology were already on your tongue but the curves of her lips were mesmerising, the elegant slope of her brows distracting, and those eyes… the depth in them threatened to drown you that all coherent thought deserted you. 

“Wow,” you breathed out.

“Excuse me?” Came the bemused question, an instant slap to the face that sobered you up immediately. 

“I’m so–I’m sorry, that’s what I meant to say. I’m–” You palmed a hand over your face as you began but a small chuckle stopped you halfway. You risked a peek through your fingers and saw the woman with her lips to the glass, something akin to a teasing smirk on her face while she remained leaning on the counter by her hip. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asked as she took a sip from her drink.

Not really the question you were expecting but you’d rather take a reprieve over a disaster. And at that, you smiled sheepishly at her. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hmm, no, not really. Your slight accent gave you away but your Spanish is impressive.”

“I’m still working on losing it but I’ll take that as a win. I’m assuming you’re from around here?”

“My home town is about an hour away outside of the city but I stay here most of the time for work.”

“That must be nice, being close to home.” Feeling more at ease now, you sipped at your drink. The woman did the same. Then you continued. “So, what do you do?”

For a moment there was nothing but music and chatter as the woman regarded you with an unreadable expression. Her eyes glinted–with what exactly? curiosity?–her head cocked slightly to the side. Then she sipped at her drink again. Did you say something offensive? you wondered.

“I work between the sport stadiums. And you? Where is home and what brings you to Barcelona?” 

It was clear from the vagueness of her answer that the stranger didn’t want to talk about her job and it didn’t help your growing interest for her. You wanted to ask her about further details but the dismissive tone with which she answered made you hold your tongue and her question, anyway, made you pause as you pondered to answer.

As an orphan who lived a few years in the system, the subject of where home was had always been a sore spot for you even if the stranger didn’t mean anything deeper by it. In some sense, your adoptive mom was home but there was always a part of you that longed for… something.  But, of course, you couldn’t bring that up right now especially to someone you just met. So you just told her where you were from, that you were on vacation, and that you work as a photojournalist for a press agency you helped establish. Something in your answer must had piqued the woman’s interest because her brows shot up.

“Which branch do you work in?”

“Spot news. But I’ve been meaning to expand my portfolio and get into another branch. Maybe try sports or portrait?”

The woman hummed in appreciation. “Any sports in particular? Wait, do you even like sports?”

“I honestly know close to nothing so I haven’t made a decision yet, but it will definitely be women’s sports,” you replied. She nodded and sipped at her drink again, never breaking her gaze from yours and you felt your cheeks warm again. Those eyes… they were dangerous; they lit up every nerve in your body and it felt good. You continued. “What about you? Are you much of a sports person?”

And to your total bafflement, the woman beamed at you, radiant and glowing, dimples in her cheeks as mirth shone in her eyes.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous and at somewhat of a loss. 

The stranger let out a small chuckle, shook her head slightly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, an attempt to hide her smile. “Nothing, nothing. And yeah, I’m a big sports fan. Then a beat passed before she continued, “you ever thought of covering women’s football? There are plenty of matches happening in the domestic leagues right now.”

“Maybe I will,” you hummed, mulling it over. It sounded good actually. And then you asked, “what else do you suggest for someone to do in Barcelona?”

The woman downed her remaining drink and placed the empty glass on the counter. Before you knew it, you could feel the warmth of her breath against your ear and you shivered when she purred. “Dance, of course.”And then she was holding your hand, pulling you off of the stool you were on, and began dragging you to the direction of the dance floor. 

All at once, warmth encompassed you: the crowd immediately swallowed you both, bodies pressed on you but the heat that emanated from the woman before you was the sole beacon for your attention. She had a loose arm around your waist and as the both of you danced to the music, you took that opportunity to wrap your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. She slowed down and she still had enough height on you that she had to lower her head.

“I never caught your name,” you spoke into her ear. 

“I’m Ale,” she replied. She pulled back to smile down at you. And then, she kissed you. 

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you call your boyfriend eddie from a party in need of saving. or, you lose your t-shirt under mysterious circumstances and eddie has to get you dressed and take you home [3k]

warnings drunk!reader who is a little bit handsy and a lot in love, fem!reader, eddie pov, pure fluff, idiots in love, newly established relationship, some pet names (baby, teddy, handsome), implied of-age drinking, implied weed use

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Face to the ceiling, heart not racing but close to it, Eddie's half adrift in a memory of you from a few days ago. 

You'd been sitting on the floor by his dresser with your hair all pretty in your soft clothes, asking him questions nobody else has ever bothered to ask and listening to the answers like this: face tilted, eyes at attention but creased with a contentedness (or so he'd like to think) and your hands under your chin. 

An honest to god angel.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill, near piercing ring of the phone. Panic spikes like a knife in his chest at the sound. He scrambles to pick up the receiver where it rests on the amp beside his bed, legs caught in the sheets and hand holding his weight on the bedroom floor. 

He slams the phone against his face and winces at the undue force. "Yeah?" 

His legs inch forward. The palm of his hand aches and he's eager to get off the phone before he falls off of the bed, so when nobody speaks he gets a smidge irritated. 

"Hello? Henderson, if this is-" 

"Hi," someone says.

"Who is this?" 

A laugh that's most certainly yours echoes down the line. "It's me." 

Eddie presses the phone closer to his ear, as if that'll somehow summon you. 

Despite missing you, messing with you is his main prerogative at all times. "I don't know any me's, sorry. If that's-" 

"Eddie," – more giggling — "it's me, Y/N." 

"And why are you calling me at home?" 

"You're incorr- incorrgi- incorribigle." 

You hiccup. 

Eddie's eyes blow wide and a smile made of what can only be called pure delight stretches over his face. 

"Baby, are you drunk?" he asks. 

"A little! Okay, a lottle." 

"I thought you were only going for iced tea?" After all, it's a Sunday. 

"A Long Island iced tea." 

He can feel the blood rushing to his head. "What's the difference?" 

"Vodka, rum, tequila, gin… Oh, and about three quarters of an ounce of triple sec!" 

"That sounds like a party." 

It sounds like you're close to, if not totally, wasted. 

"Such a party! I have a slight problem, though?" 

"What's that?"

"I can't find my jacket." 

"What?" 

"Or my t-shirt." 

Eddie's arm finally buckles and he topples to the floor, cheek crushed to the rug and leg still twisted in blankets. He winces at the clatter and thump of his knees as he climbs into a sitting position, head tilted to one side, breath bated. When it's clear he hasn't disrupted Wayne's backwards sleeping schedule he brings the phone to his ear again. 

You're midway through an explanation. Maybe. "–So I said who puts hot sauce there? That's maso-twisted!"

"Did somebody put hot sauce on you?" he asks worriedly. 

"What? Eddie, are you even listening to me?"

He rubs his stinging cheek. "Bad connection."

"Anyhow, I'm too embarrassed to go back downstairs." 

"Yeah? Listen, I can come and bring you something to wear. Are you still at Amanda's?" 

"Would you? She doesn't have anything that fits me." 

"Sure will," he says. 

Really, he's dreading the idea. If there's one thing Eddie doesn't do it's parties. Preppy parties. But if you're walking around shirtless, isn't that, like, his boyfriend duty or something, to come and bring you clothes? 

"You're the best! Do you still have my hoodie with the white flowers?" 

He looks at said hoodie where it's balled suspiciously close to his pillow. "I'll find it." 

"Yay." 

"Hang tight, alright?" 

"Okay. Hey, you'll never guess-" 

"Babe, I have to hang up." 

"Why?" 

"'Why?'" His bemusement is obvious. "I'll explain when I get there." 

He goes to put the phone down when you say his name with a startling amount of urgency. 

"What?" he asks.

"I miss you."

He imagines you, half naked and in your giggling disarray at a random house. The want to take care of you grows and grows. "I miss you too. Now I really have to go." 

"Okay bye," you say, and hang up. 

–

Eddie parks the van, daunted. He hadn't realised what kind of party you meant when you'd asked him to come originally, and he's doubly glad he said no when he realises the sheer magnitude of it all. There's people everywhere and Eddie doesn't recognise a soul besides the stoners on the front lawn. He closes the van door behind himself and feels like he's just stepped onto another planet. 

Eddie had tried to mitigate his own unpopularity growing up by spending as little time around his peers as possible. Something about his general existence seems to irritate and antagonise them, and Eddie's not one for the fuss of it. Or, he hadn't been. It's hard to play doormat forever, and by his third and final senior year he'd learned to take the offense instead. 

It might not always work in his favour, but sticking up for himself has done a lot for his self-worth. 

Almost as much as meeting you. 

Eddie knows you're not gonna be standing around out front in the nude. He weaves through partygoers of all shapes and sizes with your hoodie thrown over his arm, the smell of beer like a cloud. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone as he slinks up the stairs, the pounding thump of music – not by his definition, but music – fading with each step. 

There's a small line for the bathroom and two of three bedroom doors are open wide, likely pilfered. Eddie squints at the 'Stay Out' sign on the third and closed door, a skull and crossbones crudely drawn beside it, and grins. He's always been a rule breaker. 

Pushing open the door, Eddie finds you crushed between a bookshelf and a twin-sized bed with a phone shaped like a racecar in your lap. You look like you're sleeping.

Your eyelashes flutter as he sits carefully in front of you. 

He works his hand under your chin and lifts your head. He's gentle, worried you've summoned a crick in your neck from sleeping the way you have. 

"Baby," he says softly, "you really shouldn't be by yourself like this." 

He pushes his fingertips up to the highest point of your cheek and rubs the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You rouse slowly, as if suspended in jelly. He helps you lift your head. 

"Hi," he says as your eyes open clearly. 

"Hey," you say. Your eyes close again. 

"Why are you on the floor?" 

You tug against the phone. The line makes a snapping sound as it resists. "Can't reach from the bed. Wanted to…" you drift off. Eddie pats your cheek until you finish, "Stay in case you called me back." 

"I don't know this number." 

You drop the phone unceremoniously. "Oh." 

Eddie feels bad for the phone's owner but doesn't pick it up. He's too busy stroking your cheek, trying to work you out of your shell so he can get you dressed and sleeping soundly in your bed, rather than on someone's younger brother's floor. 

His affection has the opposite effect to what he'd wanted; you start to doze in his hand, pretty face scrunched up and chin slowly creeping toward your chest. 

"I brought your hoodie," he says, pulling his hand away reluctantly. 

"'M tired, Eds." 

He softens like butter in the sun. "I know," he says, glad for the small privacy you've both been allowed. "Do you wanna go home?" 

"With you?" 

"Whatever you want." 

You sit up with the most suffering groan Eddie has ever heard you make, arms lifting above your head. Your back arches a touch and you moan as your neck clicks. 

Eddie looks at his lap with wide eyes, a blush rising thick and fast to his cheeks and the tips of his ears – he can feel the skin blooming with heat. 

You're still very much shirtless. 

"Where did your clothes go?" he asks. 

You've more clarity about you as you settle. "I don't know."

"Did someone take them off of you?" 

You must clock his fear. You sit up on your knees and take his ring-heavy hands into yours, fingers clumsy but well-meaning as they curl around his. "Nobody touched me. Teddy…" You smile and your eyes squint just so. "You worry too much." 

"I actually worry the right amount. Where did your friends go?" 

You drag his hands to your hips and place them with a high focus. He gives into your whims with his cheeks now fully pinked, hands cool over the warmth of your doughy flesh. Your stomach has rolled into a pouch from the way you're sitting and he resists the urge to lean down and kiss it, hit by a momentary lapse in judgement due to the pure, unadulterated adoration coursing through him.

You're cute.

Sitting here as you are, pupils blown and hair a lovable mess, all smiley and pretty and expectant, what else is there for him to do but take you in? He lets his eyes travel up the length of your navel, over the valley of your chest rising with each breath, and the curve of your smile until he's eye to eye with you. 

You let his hands go and spread your arms. "Hug?" 

Giving him no time to respond (though he would've said yes without question) you slide your arms over his shoulders and fall into his embrace. He supports you with a hand behind your back but otherwise remains where he is, happy to let you get comfortable, let you nuzzle your face against his and murmur to yourself too quietly for him to hear. 

You smell nothing like iced tea, that's for sure. There's a distinct stick of alcohol lingering. He inhales the smell of you, that sharpness, and finds the softer, familiar scents of you underneath.

"This is nice." 

He couldn't agree more. He drags the flat of his palm up your back and grins. 

"I would've said yes if I knew parties were like this," he says.

You giggle, the sound overloud in his ear but never any less sweet. "Stick with me, babe, and every party is like this," you promise, an air of salaciousness to each word. 

"Is that so?" he asks. He squeezes your hip until you're laughing again. 

"Totally!"

"Do I have to get naked too, or is that just for the girls?" 

"You definitely have to. I'm a feminist, you know? I'm about equality. Please." 

"Take me out to dinner first," he mumbles. 

You burst into laughter, a rush of abrupt sound. You cling to him as you do, your chest pressed hard into his and your face sliding into his frizzy curls. 

"Dinner," you start when you've calmed, "that could be fun." 

"You're hungry?" 

"I wasn't until you mentioned it." 

He pulls away from you reluctantly. You look as half-cut as you did when the hug began but your tiredness seems to have abated for now. Your adorableness remains as all encompassing as before, and he has to stroke down the length of your face with his hand to stop from aching. 

You're lax at the affection. He traces the half circle under your eye with the side of a knuckle, the skin so soft it feels like silk. 

"I'll get you whatever you want," Eddie says, and means it.

"Really?" 

"If you get dressed." 

"My arms don't work, handsome. You'll have to dress me." 

"That so?" 

You nod gravely. 

He bites the inside of his lip to contain a smile and grabs your hoodie from under his thigh. He shakes it out and opens it up. You bend to push your head through first, cheering victoriously when your disorientated face appears.

What follows is a process in which he thinks maybe your arms have been replaced by spaghetti. 

"No. No. Sweetheart, no, oh my god. What are you doing right now? You're not even trying," he says, giggling. 

"Your laugh is the nicest sound in the world."

"I'll try and take you seriously when you can get your hands through your sleeves. How old are you, two?" 

"And a half." 

"Stay still. I'm gonna bunch 'em up." 

He bunches your sleeves as he'd said and finds your hands to pull them through. He feels like this is what it must be like to dress a toddler, only the toddler is tall and too drunk to keep her head up for long amounts of time. 

"And… There." He neatens your sleeves and collar. "Done. Good job, baby." 

You beam wide enough to apple your cheeks and throw yourself into his lap all over again. He's surprised and bends from your weight, receiving you with a mixture of apprehension and glee. 

"If you throw up on me we're gonna have to break up," he says, smoothing his hand over the back of your neck. 

"Really?" 

"No." 

You can't stop laughing tonight. You giggle breathlessly and pull back enough to cup his cheek. Your hands are heavy but what you've lost in your inebriation you make up for in love; while your motor spatial skills have taken a heavy blow, your kisses are as syrupy as always. You kiss his cheek in an inelegant triangle and make these tiny, lovely sounds that give him butterflies.

Lips pressed to his face, you say, "You're my boy." 

He feels shy in a way he hadn't realised he could as he brings his hands up your back to hold you. 

"I'm your boy," he agrees. 

There's a short silence where he breathes you in and rubs your shoulder. He'd missed you more than he realised.

"Want KFC? I'm paying." 

He rolls his eyes and pushes you away from him gently. "Whatever you want." 

You stand on unsteady feet. Eddie offers his arm and you stand hip to hip with him and let him hold you up. You're not so wobbly as to need as much help as he's giving but he doesn't mind and you like the connection, head dropped to his shoulder. He gets you past the bathroom queue and down the stairs, pausing at the coat rack where he spies your purse. You sway at the sudden stop. 

The contents, to your unbelievable, infallible good luck, have been left alone. Even your loose cash. Eddie can't comprehend it. 

"I told you before, I'm paying," you brag.

He chucks your chin, enamoured with your cocky smile. "You're soooo confident that I'm gonna let that happen." 

Its always like this. Surrounded by people and somehow you might as well be the only two people in the room for how it feels.

Your answering laugh is loud and sympathetic. "Duh. I get away with everything all the time 'cos you have a crush on me." 

You stride out of the open front door and onto the stone pathway bisecting the lawn. He catches your hand before you can get too far away and you spin to look at him. 

You're walking backwards. Staggering, really, Eddie's hand the only thing keeping you upright as you croon, "You like me." 

"Who told you that?" 

"Nobody needed to tell me, I already knew. It's obvious." 

He yanks you toward him and you huff into his chest. You're more giggle than girl tonight, gasping breathlessly as you threaten him. "Watch it!" 

"You watch it. Who do you think you're talking to?" he jokes, staring down at you with a pretend scorn. 

You pout and brush a loose curl behind his shoulder.

"Nothing to say?" 

"Nothing to say to you." 

"Really?"

"Nuh-uh." 

"What's obvious about it?" he asks, leaning down until your noses touch. He blows a hot breath out of the corner of his mouth. 

You squeeze his hand. "I'm tipsy–" 

"Tipsy!" 

"But I'm not stupid, Munson." 

"You're going down the list tonight." You've called him everything. Eds, handsome, baby, Teddy, now Munson. He'd much prefer the second, third and fourth, but any name at all sounds like a pet name when you say it. 

"Move, loser," someone says, shouldering him suddenly and roughly out of the way. 

Eddie doesn't have time to think about it, he takes an unwilling step forward and you go back, too drunk to shriek. Your breath catches as your ankle twists and you trip and fall onto the small of your back. Unfortunately for Eddie, your hands are still twined together, and he falls into you like a domino, knees hitting damp grass and face smashed into the space above your shoulder. 

He doesn't have the cushion of alcohol. 

"Ow," he says, peeved. Not at you, but peeved all the same. He screws his eyes shut and sulks. 

"Thought I had to buy you dinner first." 

"Shit." Eddie springs up off of you. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" 

You stay lying in the grass. The party lights splash across your bare skin, pink and green and orange-yellow painting your lips and your nose and the curve of your neck. 

"Why'd you do that?" you ask curiously. 

"Some asshole pushed me." He looks over his shoulder for a culprit and finds no one. 

"Like I believe that!" 

"Stop laughing! This isn't funny. I think I might've winded you." 

You grab him and dig your fingers into his hips. "With this skinny waist? Unlikely." 

"Hey," he chides through a laugh, "what?"

"So trim." 

"You're totally gone." 

"Gone on you." You sit up and slide your hands under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"We're in public, perv." 

"And?" 

"Stop feeling me up." 

"But this is the best part." 

Eddie shivers at your cold fingers gracing the lines of his sides and then inward. You massage his abdomen with a feather-light touch. 

"Nice," you murmur. 

Eddie pushes you down into the grass and kisses you chastely. Then a little less than chaste. Nothing serious, he's not a sicko, but he just can't hold it in. To be liked in the way that you like him feels like a privilege he can't begin to deserve. 

"Thanks for coming to pick me up," you say as your break apart, smiling at him fondly. 

He rubs your foreheads together. "You definitely pulled me down with you. This is your fault." 

"My bad," you say. Your flippancy drives him mad. 

He kisses the corner of your mouth and then leaps off of you to half-carry you to the van. 

Half an hour later in the bright fluorescents of KFC when you're covered in fried chicken grease and grass stains, you make a heart with your hands and hold it upto your face. "Smile, handsome. I'm taking a mental picture." 

He smiles. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks so much for reading!

if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a big difference!

[nevernonline]

✧.* just for one night; yjh

for jeonghan's birthday he teased the gift he wanted wrapped in a pretty bow this time was you. little did he know that his joke would turn into his favorite present.

𐦍 paring: jeonghan x reader.

𐦍 genre: romance, bad humor, fluff, "friendly" date.

𐦍 warnings: drinking,  s3xy times, swearing,  smut, minors dni, reader has female genitalia.

𐦍 word count: 2.0k

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, afab! reader.

𐦍 note: I meant to post this on 1004 but.. maybe forgot to queue it LMAO. this wasn't intended to go this way and I don't rlly write smut often (or read it often tbh) so pls all my baddies who read and write smut give me feedback. (pls) lolol. anyway!! enjoy kk. ily.

It was that time again, time to find a gift for a friend who had nearly everything. Scouring around shops and market places, trying to find something special that had any meaning to the two of you. Sure, you could buy a lux gift or a fancy dinner, but that was basic and well beyond the things Jeonghan had given you. 

You scroll back through texts and posts over the last few birthdays you had spend celebrating him, stumbling across a photo that gave you a good idea. You were sitting on his lap as he blew out his birthday candle. After that wish was put into the universe you recall his lips coming so close to your ear his lips were almost making contact with your pierced lobes. 

“All I want next year is you wrapped in a pretty bow.” 

Maybe he wouldn’t remember that wish, but you did. It was silly and stupid, but your friend did always know what he wanted and wasn’t shy to ask for it. 

You sprinted to the stationary store in order to find a big pink bow in under thirty minutes, so you could make it back to your apartment where Jeonghan was meeting you before his big night out with all of his friends. The options were endless, a sea of glitter, metallic, curling, satin, but you decided to be simple, just a large bound pink ribbon. 

After an overwhelming time spent pondering over pink fabric, you made it home with ten minutes to spare. Lacing yourself up from your sneakers, to your hair, your bag, even a dainty piece wrapped around your neck as a finishing touch just as the doorbell rang, you told him to open up where he found you laced in pink, wearing a black dress, holding a cupcake flame ablaze. 

“Happy Birthday, Hannie.” 

A smile creeped in as he came close to blow his candle out looking at the pink adorned ribbon tied all over you, he remembered. 

“My present I presume?” 

His fingers pointed towards you, again smiling from ear to ear like he couldn’t believe you remembered his wish. 

“Think I’d forget?” 

“You tend to forget your own name while drinking, so yes. I love it.” 

Jeonghan’s hands reached to run his hands over the ribbon in your hair, pausing before he touched the one on your neck. 

“So this means you’re mine for the night?” 

“Your wish is my command, birthday boy. Should we go?” 

“You know when I wished for you to be my present, I meant much more than you wearing bows right?” 

You huffed, watching his eyes still on your neck. 

“I did. I really will oblige any wish, as long as it’s legal and safe.” 

“No promises, babe. Let’s go.” 

Walking hand in hand into Jeonghan’s not so surprise party was not out of the norm for you, you’ve always been the type of friend that clung to close, even for your own comfort. Something seemed to linger in the air around you as a pair. 

“Mind getting me a cocktail? I’m going to go say hi to the guys and thank them.” 

“Again, here to please. Vodka Cran or G&T?” 

“Gin, please.” 

With a small salute as a send off you walked into a line behind three other partygoers in line. 

“Y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in pink before?” 

The voice was Joshua’s coming from behind you. He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders in a half hug greeting you hello. 

“Really? Well, it's for Jeonghan’s gift. Last year he wished that I gift him myself, so here I am adorned in pink ribbon.” 

“You really took him up on that? You are one good friend.” 

“I know that you're thinking it's probably a mistake, you’re right.” 

“Na, he’d never hurt you or let anyone else. He likes you far too much.” 

Your eyes rolled now facing the bartender and placing the matching drink order before turning back to Joshua. 

“Come find me later okay? I need a Shua Hong dance for my payment for being Jeonghan’s bitch for the night.” 

“It's the least I can do.” 

Hours passed by just as quickly as alcohol entered your system, you haven’t left the side of your male counterpart for hours, he wouldn’t let you slide away other than grabbing more drinks or running to the ladies room.

Your buzz is far more prominent now. Jeonghan’s hands slid to the lower half of your body, resting between your bare skin and the hem of your dress and your heart followed along to the beat of the edm music playing over the club loudspeakers. 

“Dance with me, pretty?” 

His eyes burning a hole into your head, you obliged, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the center of the purple lights and faux fog. 

Jeonghan’s hands found a comfortable spot resting on your hips as you twisted around placing your back onto his chest, grinding slowly to the song. 

This proximity between you has never existed, while you’re touchy or clingy the feeling from the warmth of his pants's friction on your upper thighs made you feel differently about your so called friend. 

Thoughts swirled in your brain as you turned back to be face to face with his plump lips and siren like eyes. A hand, that same hand that was resting comfortably on your lower half snaked its way up to your neck, the ribbon placed there was now further from your skin as his fingers laced their way under it. 

“You want to know what else I wished for?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, no words formed other than some incoherent ones that sounded like soft moaning. 

“I wished that you’d be my present forever, not just for the night. I can’t let anybody else get this gift.” 

Your hands reached from the nape of his neck to the side of his face, trying to give him a clue that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. 

“Come home with me?” 

He placed a small peck onto your cheek, nearing the site of your lips that so badly wanted to feel the crash of his on them. 

The whole ride back in your taxi, your hands rubbed up his thigh. He knew you looked nervous, but also that you would tell him if anything made you uncomfortable. 

Truth be told he was nervous too. This was a line he never thought would be crossed. Jeonghan knew for years that he wanted you and only you for that matter, but he waited for the perfect moment to be put in your hands. 

Saying a quick thank you to your driver, you basically sprinted into his place, not even having a second to throw your jacket and bag down at his front door before you had your back against his white walls in the dark. 

The sense of urgency to kiss you was obvious. A near feral feeling. He tasted like cherries and gin as he kissed you quickly, helping you out of your outerwear and pulling you into his apartment that was only lit by the beautiful view of the city below. 

“Help me?” 

Your voice came out as a whimper, turning your back to him as an indication you needed help out of your dress. 

His cold hands wrapped around the zipper of your dress running a finger down your spine as it unzipped. 

“Wow.” 

His confidence suddenly washing away as he looked at your semi naked body only wearing a matching pink slip dress to the color of your bows and a pair of matching panties below. 

“Dressed up for me too?” 

“Nope. Just like to match.” 

The ‘P’ of your nope popped onto his face and a devious smile appeared. 

“Don’t be bad, gifts shouldn’t talk back to their owner.” 

His hands found his way to the place they didn’t seem to leave all night, your hips as he placed you down onto his fresh sheets. 

“Sorry, Hannie.” 

“It’s okay, just be a good girl."  

You nodded as he began kissing you starting at your lips and followed a trail all the way down to your sternum. 

“You know the best part about gifts is opening them.” 

Jeonghan’s fingers now wrapped around the waistband of your underwear as he slowly pulled them down below your knees, around your ankles and onto the floor. 

A pause from kissing came as his pointer and middle finger entered into your mouth and prompted you to spit on them so he could rub circles onto your clit before entering another space he had never been to before. His first finger came in slowly penetrating you softly, when he saw you getting needy his second entered and the beats became more rapid as he used his tumb to rub circles around your much more sensitive sweet spot. 

Your moaning became louder, reminding him of your voice yelling over the sound of the music in the club as you reached your first orgasm of the night. 

Sitting up now watching as Jeonghan places the same two fingers that were inside of you into his mouth, savoring every last drop of the finish you had because of him, you crawled onto you knees now prompting him for some pleasure. 

Undoing the button and zipper of his pants, letting him and his cock catch their breath before going down on him. You placed soft kisses along the pale skin of his stomach, making sure to nip his skin in between as you make your way down his torso. Just as you reach the waistband of his boxers, a hand comes to cup the hard thing lying beneath. 

“Wanted me that bad huh?” 

Jeonghan, now dethroned from his previous position of power, just groaned as a beg to have your mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock. 

“I’ve wanted you forever.” 

Hearing his breathless moans you released your hands from his cock and finished unwrapping yourself for him, leaving that small pink ribbon tied around your neck, before going back down to kiss your lips at the tip of his dick. 

As your hands and mouth worked their way around in unison all over his engorged flesh, it takes only a few minutes for him to fill the dirty mouth that was teasing him just before. 

“Didn’t take you for such a lightweight, Yoon.” 

“Shut the fuck up and please get on top of me.” 

Your legs came to straddle around his still sensitive cock as you teased your entrance. 

“Someone’s so needy.”

“Someone is supposed to be doing far less talking and far more fucking.” 

His arms pulled you down fearlessly so your lips could fall back into place and also so he could shut you up while you finally let him inside of you. 

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be so tight.” 

Jeonghan knew he wouldn’t last long being inside of you, not because you were tight, but because of the way he felt about you and how much he dreamed about watching your breasts bouncing as they hovered over his face while he fucked you. 

“I- Uh, Fuck.” 

“You what, pretty? Can’t handle me? Can't it last long? Want me to fill you up as you ride me?” 

“Yes, yes, all of it. Please, Hannie.’"

As his hips pounded their way onto yours, both of you running out of stamina maybe due to the alcohol or maybe the adrenaline reached your climax near the same time. 

“Can you come inside me, please?” 

You were practically begging him to mark you and since you looked so pretty he couldn’t say no to you. 

With the two of you now finished, his cock still inside of you. Jeonghan placed soft kisses on your lips. 

“I don’t want this to stop.” 

His hands came to untie the pink fabric now slightly wet from your shared bodily fluids. 

“Me either. I love you, you know?” 

You lifted your body off of him, now under his covers with your hands placed on his chest. 

“I love you too, Happy Birthday.” 

“Be my present forever, okay?” 

“Okay, handsome.” 

And with another year gone, Jeonghan finally got the birthday present he truly wanted. You.

[yigashimei]

Alright here is another one, sorry for late posting but here it is Zoya x fem! reader

Zoya

It was supposed to be a one night stand only, but things took a different turn, maybe for the good or not you are just about to find out

Zoya who was only looking for someone to entertain her things turned out to be much more different that what she had anticipated

Meeting you was something people may call 'right person, wrong time' it could potentially change your life but you did not back down

So what happens when you meet your one night stand again in the right time and place

Warnings⚠️: A bit of Angst

It could be destiny trying to kill you or worst you thought it may be someone who just came here looking for fun but turned out to be someone very dangerous

But seeing her again felt amazing even if she was part of a dangerous group, your first instinct was to run and hide but seeing her with them you just went and froze in place

"Where is your boss?" the guy big and tall standing beside her said, his voice holds authority "Our boss wants to talk to him, get him here quick" he continued

"P-please wait a moment, I shall call t-the boss and inform him of y-your arrival and request" the man on the front desk said, you learned his name to be Gin when he approached you months ago

" For the time being, p-please make yourself at home, relax a-and just tell Jane here of what you want to eat and d-drink" his timid voice was even showing his fear in which, Zoya their boss gave him a side glance

Jane went and replaced Gin at the front desk while he went and told his boss of what happened and who has come "My name is Jane and this way to one of the holding room where you can wait for our boss, please follow me" she said while leading them to the room

They were about to pass you so with quick reflexes you turned to the door behind you and went inside before they could see you (more like before she could see you)

Before passing the door that separates you from the gang Zoya stops, looking at the door feeling a bit of hope that what she saw was you

Turns out she saw a glimpse of you before you run and hide, she wasn't sure it was you but she will find out

Continuing their walk Jane calls out to someone to get food and drinks while they wait "The boss will be a bit late due to a meeting he is having, due to this you are free to have fun with some of our clients best pick, I shall send them in and you may pick who you wish to have"

After saying those words, a line of beautiful and jaw dropping women walk in and start to look at the people inside, the men of the group who were either not married or have a girlfriend chose the women they wish to have for the night

But the leader of the group stood up and walked towards the person who led them here "I want someone else, someone who is not here, her name is Y/N" the girls eyes went wide, seeing that this person knows their best worker yet, but she knows that the girl is currently finishing up with someone else and cannot come here

"I am sorry for she is currently unavailable due to someone already booking up an appointment with her, she should be finished soon so if you wish I can go get her once her job is done" Jane explained after seeing the frown on the woman's face

"Good, get her here quickly, I want to talk with her" she said before returning to her seat and with a quick breath Jane excused herself to get you

The truth was you weren't in an appointment at the moment you just said that to her in hopes that if Zoya ever asked Jane could say that you were busy and would not be free in the next few hours, but due to Jane's fear of the woman she had no choice but to fetch you and drag you to the feared woman

"Y/N! Open up! I need you now!" Jane shouted while banging outside of a room where you were she presumed you would be and to her surprise you were there behind the door

"What is it Jane? Didn't I tell you I am busy? Or did you just not hear me?" you asked while pulling on the cloth that's barely covering your bare shoulder

"That woman downstairs is looking for you, the leader of the gang that came here" she said while putting her hands on her hips looking at the girl in front of her "Then tell her I am busy Jane, I thought you already knew that?" Jane frustrated took hold of your wrist and started to pull you towards the end of the hallway where the stairs are

"I did tell her, but she insisted that she needs to see you, so I am sorry if you don't like it,but our job is to listen to the boss and the boss said to treat them good especially their boss the woman who was looking for you" Jane said before stopping infront of the same door where Zoya and her gang was being entertained

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we need to listen or else we might end up like Haru and Rei last month for not listening" Jane took hold of your shoulders and started to fix the cloth that was covering you as best as she could to keep the cold air of the night away from your shivering form

"I will be there so don't worry ok? I won't leave you alone, so go inside and know what she wants then you can go back and relax for the rest of the night" she encouraged you before tugging your hand to go inside with her

"Let's go?" she asked turning around to look at you once more "Let's go" you replied more confident than before

Jane signals you to stay just beside the bar and will call you once she has told Zoya of your arrival, doing as you were told you then proceed to talk with someone you know who is working by the bar

"I knew I would find you here" a voice deep and rough sounded just beside your ear, turning around you are met with the person who you slept with a month before this happens "What's with the look dear? Did you not miss me one bit?" she asked looking as if you put a knife on her heart

"I am extremely hurt by your actions of avoiding me, I thought you would have been happy to see me again" her smile was beautiful, deadly but still beautiful to your eyes

"Come sit with me, I have something to tell you, and I know for a fact that you would like it as much as I would too" pulling you up from the stool she guided you toward where her gang was and made them move so that you could take a seat besides her

Her hand moved from your shoulders to your waist holding you in place beside her, it wasn't tight to hurt but still tight that you couldn't leave her side if you wanted to

"I did as I promised, I will be getting you out of here in no time, so just sit and make yourself look pretty for me while we wait for that so called boss of yours and I can take you back with me" her voice echoed through your ear causing you to shiver a little making her smirk

"What? Miss my voice that much?" Zoya asked her smirk turning to a grin "Don't worry bunny, your in safe hands" then she laughed while you turned beet red from her teasing

A few minutes later Gin returned with the man you called boss, you despised him to the core, he was the reason you were here afterall

"What are a bunch of people like you doing here?!" Your boss shouted "And with my best employee?! Get them out now!" Gin was shivering with the glare that Zoya sent their way while the boss was not paying attention and just kept shouting orders

"We made a deal three weeks ago that I pay you 10million dis coins and then I can get her out of here" your eyes widen that was too much and you know for a fact that this man will not let you go after all you are his top selling, letting you go will be bad for his business

"No way in hell! That bitch is my top selling, take her and my business falls, I don't care about you but I am not giving her to you!" he shouted, you wanted to end this get out of here and just be free, but no, your chained here to this damned place till you die

"Our signed papers said otherwise" he froze, he had forgotten he signed the deal cause he thought she wouldn't be able to do it "I got the money and the paperwork here, so you either cooperate with us properly or I can make you be a remaining tale to this place for all eternity" her voice grew dark along with her eyes

Boss afraid stepped down and left with the money, you were free now, no more of those routine that you have to do, tears stained your cheek taking Zoya by surprise

"Hey, why are you crying?" her voice now smooth and soft to your ears "Don't cry now, I made a promise to get you out of here no matter what, and I am doing that now" her hands wiped the tears flowing from your eyes

"You're staying with me and my gang, so stop crying already, you're free now no one can harm you ever again, not on my watch" she said helping you stand up to get out of the place "C'mon, my girl needs to smile cause that's what I need to brighten up my day" her words made you beet red and your heard pounding loud

"What are you talking about? I am not your girl" she merely laughed and kissed your cheek with a grin "That's not what you said to me a month ago" she retorted back making you smile some more

"Let's go and I promise you no one will lay a hand on you ever again, I swear on my name" her smile was contagious that it made you smile too "I will take good care of you don't worry, you are in safe hands"

Maybe meeting her can be considered as 'right person, right time' afterall she saved you from that hell hole

Well whatever happens now is just a fate guiding your way, and you are extremely grateful that fate guided you to your lover

[harrystylesfan2686]

Body Shot

Pairing: Nessian x Reader

Summary: Reader introduces Nes and Cass to body shots.

Warning: little smut and fluff. Unedited(sorry!)

A/N: This is not the same time line as Crush on Them. It is a standalone. Hope you like this❤️

Masterlist

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You walked into the House of Wind to see Cassian and Nesta kissing. You sigh at your lovers, always around each other kissing or fucking, not caring where they were or who near them. Though, you admit, you liked it. Liked how they didn't care what other people thought and just did whenever they wanted.

They break apart at the sound of your footsteps walking in. Both of them instantly turning to you and ginning. "You're back! How was you day?" Cass asks, getting up to kiss you welcome. You instantly melt into his lips, pouting when he pulls back.

"How do you think? Keir was an ass as always. I got the job done, though." He takes your gear and leathers off as you rant on about how Rhysand gave you a mission to go to Hewn City. Keir had some notice to give to the High Lord, but Rhys and Feyre were too busy with other things to go there themselves. You didn't get time to tell your partners about your task before going there, it took you an entire day to finally be able to come back.

"After going there, I got to know he wasn't even there that moment, I had to wait an entire hour before meeting him. I was so pissed." You huff as you sit on the couch beside Nesta before pulling her into a small kiss too. "And then the meeting was in some club, it was so disgusting. Everyone was drinking and humping anything they saw, and the smell! I almost puked! I swear I even saw a couple fucking in the background." You gag at the memory. Ness and Cass, too, grimacing in disgust with you.

"Alright we need wine if we want to erase that image out of our heads." Cassian walks out to the kitchen, leaving you and Nesta alone for a minute. You shift from your sitting position and lay your head on her lap, wrapping your arms around her waist and relaxing your head on the soft muscles of her thighs.

She waves her fingers through you hair, freeing them from your bun and massages your scalp lightly. You almost pur under her hands. She smiles slightly at your closed eyes and the tense of your body slowly relaxing with each stroke of her fingers.

You are almost asleep when Cassian walks back out, balancing three glasses and a bottle of white wine in his hands. "Alright, come on, drink up." He sits down at your other side as you get up from Nesta's lap, and he lines up the glasses to fill them.

"You know, you could've just asked the house to bring and serve these for us." You raise an eyebrow at him. Nesta smirks at you both and Cassian pauses pouring the wine for a second, frowning at the glass, as if he just now realized that. "Well- Maybe I just wanted the house to rest for a day." His tone sounding defensive before continuing his work.

You and Nesta laugh when he doesn't look at you while handing out your glasses.

-☆-

"You know, I also learned something else in that club today."

Both of your partners groan at your words. You have been talking non stop about all the vulger things you saw in those walls and how revolting you feel at them. They both were polite enough to hear you, but not listening anything that came out of your mouth. Their drunken states not helping at all in paying attention to things they don't want to listen to.

"Oh don't worry, this one's fun." You get up from where you were sprawled out on the ground. Nesta and Cassian laying on the couch, sitting in a position that can be described as in middle of sitting and laying. Their eyebrows raise as they look at your excited expression before glancing at each other with suspicion.

"Okay so this is apparently a thing they do in bars, it's called a body shot." Your smile raising their unsureness even more.

"And what is that?" Cassian asks.

"It's when one person lays down, and another person drinks alcohol off of them." You nod in enthusiasm.

"What do you mean off of them?" This time it's Nesta that asks because Cassian is still trying to understand what you said through his high head.

"Like, the person that's laying, has to hold a lemon in thier mouth and the other person puts salt on the layer's chest and spills drinks in thier navel and drinks from there." You try to explain as good as you can, but words don't seem to come to you to do so exactly.

Cassian frowns,"that navel part, sounds... unsanitary." Nesta nodding along him.

"Well that's true. Maybe we'll just make the person laying, hold the glass." You say.

"Oh so we are doing this?" Nesta blinks.

"Yes!! Come on it'll be so fun!" You pout.

"Well who will?" Nesta looks between the two of you.

"Don't look at me. I didn't understand any of it. I'll just mess it up." Cassian puts his hands up.

"Nesta, come on please. I really want to try it. It'll be alright if you really dont want to though. Your choice." You smile at her.

She looks at you and then Cassian and he nods, repeating your words. She inhales deeply before finally saying. "Fine. I'll do it." And you squeal in excitement.

"Alright. What do I have to do?" She gets up from the couch, standing in front of you. Slightly smiling at your excited face as you ask the house for a cut in half lemon and salt.

"Okay, take off your shirt." She does, but the second it's off, you and Cassian both get distracted when you realized she doesn't have anything underneath. She smirks at your reactions when cassian matters,"I don't know what's happening but I love it."; And you practically drool at her perfect breasts.

You quickly gather yourself and shake your head, trying to think straight. You clear your throat and say,"Alright, now lay down on your back on the ground." She does so without question. Laying in front of the couch so that Cassian can see you both from your sides. You kneel down beside her before draping one leg over her thighs, straggling her lap.

You take the glass of wine and instruct her to hold it. You sprinkle a pinch of salt over her naked chest and take the lemon,"Open your mouth." Your voice a thick with arousal as you try to keep your eyes away from her curvy flesh. Her lips part, taking one end of the piece of lemon between her teeth.

"Ready?" You wait until she nods and then dip down, parting your mouth to trail your tounge over her chest. Starting from her lower chest, slowly leading up. Feeling a little mischievous, you circle your tounge around her nipple, the sour taste of salt mixing with the sweet of her pirked bud. You smirk when she gasps under you.

You arch your spine, leveling your ass up for Cassian, giving him a perfect show as he groans. You sit up enough to take the glass out of Nesta's hand and drink down the liquid before putting it aside for the final step. You lean down again, parting your lips and take the other end of the lemon between your teeth. You graze your lips over hers, stilling a little to smirk at her fushed expression before leaning back and swallowing down the sour juice.

You take out the remains of lemon, and it vanishes, the house throwing it out for you. You smile widely at Nesta,"And that is a body shot."

The three of you are silent for a while as they try to take in what just happened. Your smile slowing flattens when Nesta doesn't say anything but just stares at you, up on her elbows. You think maybe she didn't like it and try to pull away from her, thinking of apologising before her hand suddenly shoots out, pulling you back onto her.

Before you could say anything she leans up and slams her lips to yours, her hand now gripping your hair and the other, behind you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you into her. You chests flushed together, her tightened nipples rubbing against the fabric of your clothes.

"Wait! So you liked it?" You pull back as far as you can with her hand pulling on your hair, she uses the time to bite and suck on your neck, and you whimper at the pain and pleasure.

"Yes." She whispers against your skin before pulling back to look into your eyes and says,"And we're not done."

She kisses harshly, and pulls at your clothes to rid of them, another pair of hands join hers when she fambles with the bottons too many times. She pulls back to concentrate on getting you out of your clothes while Cassian tips your head to side, your back against his chest now as he kneels behind you over Nesta, you lean up to kiss him too, just as passionately. His stubble grazing against the soft skin of your face and you whimper.

Nesta finally opens all the bottons of your shirt and roams her hand over your chest, pinching and twisting your nipples, making you moan into Cassians mouth. He pulls back to take Nesta's mouth on his as thier hands wrap and pull on your body. You moan again, you love seeing them kiss and having thier hands on you.

It is going to be a long night.

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[criceofpain]

drunk in love | park jongseong

featuring: enhypen's hyung line + sunoo

synopsis: you always thought those drinking game cards were bullshit, until your crush gets too drunk and his secret eventually gets to you.

pairing: jay x female reader

genre: smut, a tinge of fluff

word count: 2005

warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, slight voyeurism at the end (?)

“Take a shot if…”

Sunghoon slowly pulls out the card from the stack with his fingers, painfully slow that it builds up a strange tension in the atmosphere. Jake has his hand out, getting ready to take a shot glass full of gin if ever the description in the card would fit him. Heeseung begins to create a drumroll sound with his hands on the floor, making Sunoo slightly jump in surprise beside him. Jay, meanwhile, gives Sunghoon an anticipating look as his hand instinctively squeezes your thigh.

Anyone from afar can tell that all of you were being edged.

All of you have had a couple of shots, Jake the most. The house is a mess and so are your spinning heads. Jay, being the little devil that he is, chose to play a drinking game despite all of you being already tipsy. Cards Against Humanity would’ve been better, you thought.

Sunghoon finally lifts up the card and proceeds to read it. “Take a shot if you want to get railed or rail someone…?”

“Oh, fuck it.”

“What the fuck?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“Boo! Pick another one!”

A string of boos and profanities fill the whole living room as Sunghoon himself grumbles at the question. Seriously, the game creators could’ve done a little bit better. Sunoo was inexperienced and didn’t want any at this point in time, he just finished high school. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon are too busy with university to even get a girlfriend.

However, silence fills the room as a loud exhale is heard from one person—Jay.

Right. He was the only person who didn’t have too much on his plate. He bottoms up the small shot painfully, making him grimace at the sting of the alcohol in his mouth. you all could tell that he had too much, judging by his unusual antics. Where did the prim and proper Park Jongseong go just now? Just earlier, he was talking about business and science with the boys, but now he’s laughing like a moron…

“Are you fuckers seriously lying to yourselves? Hah! I doubt you wouldn’t want a taste of a pretty cunt… don’t lie to me.”

… with his eyes directed to you.

What is he on about? You raise your brows, clearly confused about why he is staring devilishly at you. He just chuckles, finding your reaction cute. The rest of the squad stares as well, watching the buildup of sexual tension slowly unfold in front of them. Everybody knows how much you have been pining for Jay and him.

Little did the two of you know that the boys have slowly escaped in their respective rooms, leaving the space to only you and Jay who are still in a hot staring contest.

“Y/N,” he slurs, eyes not leaving yours. “You look particularly hot tonight.”

“Jongseong,” you reply, stroking strands of his hair back to the top of his head. “Is that a way for me to compliment you back?”

He snorts. “Definitely not. I don't force compliments out of people.”

You chuckle, leaning forward until your lips are dangerously close to his. His senses heighten as the alcohol kicks in; he can smell your perfume better now. He chuckles, too, and the mixed smell of alcohol and mint fills your nostrils. Fuck. you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool if he keeps this up.

“You were saying?” he whispers, looking lustfully at your lips.

“You wanna rail someone.” you reply as you feel his hand go up and down your arm. “Am I your only choice, then?”

“You are.”

Jay suddenly scoops you up by the ass, pulling you into his lap and making you squeal. He wonders if he could get more of those out of you, because that sound may or may not have caused his cock to slightly twitch.

“But I'm not bringing you to bed just because of that.” he continues, slowly bunching up your skirt around your hips. “Have I told you that you’ve been living rent-free in my mind lately?”

You squint, not knowing whether to believe what just came out of his mouth. He's drunk. There’s no way he would spew random shit on the get go, right? He senses this and buries his head in the crook of your neck, just where he can kiss and mark it up later on.

“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” he teases, voice dropping a few tones as his hands travel up your waist. You tense up in his hold, and he smirks on your neck. “Your subconscious is telling me something.”

“And that is?” you respond despite knowing he was joking.

“She wants to get fucked so bad,” he gives your neck an experimental lick to which you gasp audibly to. “and it’s not because of the alcohol. It's because she’s been staring at me all night… isn’t it?”

“Jay.” you sigh as his hand travels upward to your inner thigh. “This is not how I wanted to confess to you, you know?”

“Mm-hmm, keep talking, little girl.” he mumbles, drawing little circles along your soft skin. It felt pillowy against his rough finger pads, which he loved so much.

“You're drunk.”

“What about it?”

“The guys have left us here… alone.”

“Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?” he tugs the crotch of your panties down and prods on your clit experimentally. You whimper softly.

Here you are, sitting on the lap of the Park Jongseong you have been crushing on for quite a while, with his fingers on your sex. He’s smirking to himself, thinking about how you’ve touched yourself to the mere thought of him. To say he hasn’t jerked himself off of the thought of you stripping for him would be a total lie. That would be unfair of him, wouldn’t it?

“Don't you get it, Park? I want to—ah!” you suddenly cry out as two of his fingers effortlessly slide in your pussy. They feel thick and boney inside of you and are already teasing you. God, how would you be able to take his cock if you’re already going haywire because of his fingers, then?

“You want to do what?”

“Confess to you in a more proper setting and situation?” you ask, sounding like a desperate whine as he starts pumping his fingers slowly into you. “Fuck, Jay, I wanted to dress up for that special day.”

“Isn't your fit appealing enough, sweetheart?” he coos, looking at you from head to toe. You wore your work skirt and a graphic tee that was big enough to be a dress. “I'd just rip off whatever expensive shit you want to buy. Would you want that?”

If it were you, I'd love that a lot. “No, Jay.” you shake your head, legs clenching around his arm as he continues to toy you with his fingers. He doesn’t forget to rub your clit, teasingly slow that makes you see stars.

“Spread your legs for me, please?” he nibbles on the lobe of your ear, and you oblige. “Good girl.”

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine at the loss of contact. He then lays you flat against the fur carpet and crawls on top of you, licking his fingers and tasting your wetness on his tongue. A part of you wanted him to just fuck you senseless, but the way he was undressing you with his eyes made you want to stare at him for longer until you were dripping wet again.

“What now?”

His domineering tone makes you feel so little under him that you could only respond to him with a whine.

“I’ll take that as a yes."

The next few minutes are a bit hazy for both you and him as the gin starts to kick in. He messily captures your lips in a kiss, tongues clashing together in a fight no one would win. The sting of alcohol on his tongue heightens your senses, and the taste of strawberries on yours elicits a low grunt from him. He hooks your legs around his hips, rubbing his clothed cock against your clit before completely taking his bottoms off.

“You on the pill?”

You nod. That was all he needed to line himself up against your cunt and enter you slowly until he had filled you up to the hilt. You instinctively bite on his shoulder to suppress whatever noise was to come out of your mouth, taking note of the fact that you two weren’t alone in this house.

“Come on, princess.” he coaxes, taking your head in his hands as he rubs his nose against yours. “Are you still trying to stay silent when you’ve been whining on my fingers now? Does that make sense?”

“Fuck, Jongseong!” you gasp as you feel his balls slap against your ass cheeks while he catches you off-guard with slow, sharp thrusts. He knew how to kept you going. “You feel so fucking good…”

“I know, baby.” he whispers, feeling you clench involuntarily around his cock. Sober Jongseong would never assert something that easily. “I know how good it feels.”

He proceeds to kiss you fervently and mindlessly as his hands grope your ass from under. You desperately cling onto the fabric of his shirt for stability as he is going berserk above you. Eventually, you stop caring about how loud you were moaning and just let your long-time crush do the work for you. These were one of your fantasies waiting to be fulfilled, anyway.

Your vision blurs, your eyes roll to the back of your head as Jay picks up his pace and rams into you, letting the alcohol take over his body. His hand finds its way to your clothed breast, squeezing it against his fingers and feeling for your nipple under your shirt. He tugs onto it, your whines get louder and more wanton and it drives him closer to his high.

“Mmm, are you cumming, baby?”

“Yes, fuck… I'm so close… want you to cum in me.” you beg. Heck, even making out words was hard under his ministrations.

With loud grunts, he spurts out his seed inside you, triggering your own orgasm. An array of moans and grunts fill the living room as you ride out your high, and the mixed smell of perfume, sweat, and sex fill your noses. To your surprise, he passes out above you, completely sandwiching you between his weight and the floor.

“Let's do this again, Y/N, baby…” he mutters against your chest, words slurred and almost incomprehensible. “This is so much better than the formal confession shit you were planning.”

“Jay.” you roll your eyes, hand finding his hair and gently stroking it with your fingers. “I still want it—”

“Shh.” he throws a hand above your mouth, feeling like a slap on your face though it was unintentional. “You talk so much for a little girl.”

“I’m not little!”

“Don't lie, Y/N. I can pick you up on one arm… throw you around and…”

“And?” you raise your brows, anticipating his answer. “What's next, Park?”

“And I'll wrestle you and…”

And he’s suddenly snoring. You snort. He's right. maybe this can wait until the next morning…

… or until he’s fucking you again.

“Oh, fuck. Harder, Jay, please!” you scream against the mattress as Jay pistons into you from behind. It was either you staring at the mirror or him pinning you down and letting him take over.

“This is so much better without the alcohol, don’t you think?” he suggests, landing a harsh slap on your ass. “Answer me, babe.”

“Damn, right, it is.” you whine out. “Did you lock the door, by the way?”

He slows down and whips his head to the fully opened doorway. Sunghoon stands meters away from it.

“Get the fuck out!” Jay screams, covering your bodies with the blanket.

“Lock the door next time, you moron!” Sunghoon screams back, slamming the door shut.

Well, that was embarrassing.

a/n: this is one of my old fics (from heeyunkist) that i was luckily able to retrieve! this is for all my jay hoes and non-jay hoes alike who enjoy the concept of him drunk and hot af. also this is clearly not inspired by queen beyoncé’s song of the same title /j

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @polalvsjy @taetaemylovie @heetro @yizhoutv @lavhikaru @kaislinging-slasher01 @cha0thicpisces @en-archv @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @lhseth @aerinaga @xwonniex @celeste-hoon @ajayke @enhastolemyheart (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

© criceofpain on tumblr, 2023

[simp-ly-writes]

Betting on Hearts

Cross-over: Contemporary! Peaky Blinders x The Gentlemen (2024)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Shelby!Reader,

Summary: Being the main face to the (legal*) Shelby Business Empire, you too dabble with the less than legal side when prompted to (against your Brother's wishes). So when a certain Duke and Glass Family start stirring things up on your doorstep, you decide to seduce the duke into compliance but maybe, Eddie had the same idea for you too...

Warnings: 5000~ words, depictions of blood, overprotective siblings, emotional manipulation (seduction), reader is a bit... much. Probably some other tags that I am forgetting

A/N: more notes later.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | read-through and edited.

↳ The Shelby empire was dominant in many industries and with you being among the middle children, just behind your three older brother's, you mainly took to the newer parts of the business but you of course wrangled your way to the darker sides as well no matter how much your family protested (except for Polly, she openly cheered you on before her untimely passing)

↳ You were the Queen of import/export, the face to the Gin company and co-owner to your new digital sports betting app, your younger sister Ada had stepped in to help you manage it all. Using the earnings from the gambling you put it towards the branding and advertisements of your other departments and the greater Shelby corporation

↳ Arthur, the spirited yet your mentally-barley-afloat brother as he drank half the gin you supplied to his section of the business or found himself high as a kite while insisting on keeping your hands as clean as possible, coming with you on every assignment. Arthur maintained his "Garrison" bars across the country, moving on to establish high dining and was currently trying to stick the Shelby name into hotel management.

↳ John, a man that carried a huge heart with his irresistible charm and humor. He (while trying to convince the youngest, Finn to join him) managed the productions and manufacturing of each one of your industries. Supplying the parts, the bottles and ingredients, alongside the construction materials for every one of Arthur's expansions alongside supplying for your... darker dealings. The company, to a degree, was self-sustainable

↳ And of course, you had Thomas, the mastermind of the whole empire and the one you reported every minuscule detail to at the end of the day. You wouldn't call him kind, but he was considerate to a degree. You could always count on him to protect you where other's have failed but that also caused the greatest conflict between the two of you. It was hard, managing family verses business with him, lines always threatening to be crossed as your relationship was strained. Thomas respected you deeply, you had stuck with him when the rest of the family fell apart and offered him new perspectives to cultivating legal business. Yet he was too protective of you, he couldn't stand to lose you and openly admitted that you where his first choice if he needed to choose who would live

↳ In recent times, your family was playing chess against with a rising power called the Glass family who not so suitably started poking their fingers into your sectors, fixing your gambling sites with their newest expansions. You chuckled to yourself within Tommy's house. The men reported on the new business the Glass family had established, a boxing ring as you shoved Arthur in his chair with a teasing smile.

"Remember when you wanted to become a boxer, brother?" Arthur flips you the finger, a frown emerging from his moustache as he pours himself another drink, mumbling about you being a spoiled little brat yet you don't bother to catch the end of it.

The spy coughs, returning all of your attention back as Thomas glares at you both to hold yourselves, John's face has gone red trying to conceal his laughter at the childish faces you pull at him as Thomas throws his hand up, signalling for the man to continue.

"They have been having some difficulties in expanding their weed enterprise as well, we are still trying to get to the bottom of as to why this is as the documentation we have stolen shows nothing out of the sorts." A series of copied folders and photographs are then spread against the hardwood table as your painted nails sort through each stack, categorizing them in sequential order. Your green nail taps on top of a dead mans face thoughtfully stroking his cheek as you look at the bullet hole placed in between his eyes, "And what is the backstory to this incident exactly?" you comment.

The spy looks towards Thomas who already looks bored, there was nothing of significance to be said just yet but this newest bit of information had him raising as eyebrow. "Well, that kill was confirmed to be done by the new Duke of Halstead as I were one of the men stationed to dispose of it."

The spy throws another bundle on the table labelled, "The Duke." You excitedly snatch the manila folder quicker than anyone else at on the table as your eyes dart across every picture and piece of information you can grasp. Captain, Aristocrat, Medals... More Medals, Service, First Place, Honour Roll, Head Boy, Family Strain, oh... Your thoughts pause, cheeks heating when you flick up a stapled bundle of papers, a defined uniform, blue beret. The next page a Polo champion in college and deep black suit for the funeral. Slamming the folder shut, all eyes snap to the sudden noise.

"We are joining the upper echelon of society, brothers! Do let me meet up with him- I promise not to disappoint," you plead, already knowing that you are perfect for the mission. You and the Duke were both public-facing faces with one foot in reality and another in the pits. It would be a simple mission really, you convince yourself and your brothers as they immediately protest to the idea. Step in, seduce, convince him to sign-out and step out- as simple as that.

You look at Thomas, eyes strong, eyebrows furrowed as you level his stare. "You know I'm the only who can properly do this job, Thomas and if it does not work out, we can just kill them off just like the last, right?" The spy departs, bowing his head before speedily turning out of the room as tension only rises in the room, getting caught in your throat as you hitch your breath watching as Tommy's mouth moves into an echoing, "fine."

--

↳ So here you sat, in your covered box from the sun at the races. You clapped joyfully with a smile spreading your cheeks. You tip your hat down, seeing your bets adding up on your card as Ada cheered loudly beside you, leaning over the railing as she praises your chosen racer. Interviews for the sportsmen start as the Jockey casts a wink up at your sister. Ada throws down a business card the he clutches, placing it in his breast pocket with a tap to his chest before continuing to answer the post-race questions.

"Have yourself a date?" you tease out, picking up your spiked lemonade to hide your smile curving up into a knowing smirk. "Well you are one to talk sis, I heard down the grapevine that you had a certain duke chasing after you like Cinderella," Ada rebuttals, fixing herself a drink at the cart as you eye the three shots of vodka she stirs in, "isn't that a bit much for..." you look down at your wrist-watch, "...1PM? We do have dinner at Arthur's later tonight you know."

"We all can use a pick-me-up every now and then," she comments as you hum out, eyeing up your singular shot drink before shifting further down the couch to create space for her as she removes a pillow, placing it on her lap as she kicks off her heels and sets her feet up upon the coffee table. "Now, you didn't answer my question, go on then," she sasses, setting her drink down and leaning closer to you with knowing eyes gleaming into your own.

You roll your eyes, face going red while pushing her face away from your own as she laughs, "So you do have the hots for him!"

"No, its just that a second sun is bursting in my face and plus, we could never work," you retort, now refusing to meet her chasing eyes as she grips your hand. "Oh, come on (name)! details, details! don't leave me hanging here, thats brothers work," Ada presses forward just as your resolve crumbles. You place a hand to the bride of your nose, pinching as you eyes squeeze shut. "I won't repeat myself so listen closely," you start recalling the first day you met Captain and Duke, Edward Horniman.

--

↳ Running around your house, asking various staff members of your estate as to where your old mail had been distributed you felt around the thin papers and pages till you felt weight and lifted out the invitation from the stack. Mr. Johnston's Estate invites you to his quarterly festivities, your fingers trace over the pressed letters and seal before looking towards your closet

↳ You had worn a tailored dress that perfectly accentuated your body for tonights assignment. Within a closer inspection, various hand stitched black branches and birds spread across the top sheer level of fabric set to a black backdrop. Your hair was pinned upwards, showcasing the glowing skin of your neck and upper chest that you spent way too much time blending in with your makeup.

↳ You suitably leaned against the bar-top, feet already sore from the high heels you wore to make your legs appear longer and by the looks around the room, your plan of seduction was already in the works as a woman ordered a drink for the two of you. Her red lipstick simmering brightly under the dim lights, beckoning you in closer yet you held your resolve. Thanking her for the drink while placing a hand on her own before walking towards the neighbouring room. Feeling her stare as you left, you offered her a floating kiss before turning the corner.

↳ The windows were open as you walked down the long hall towards the cheers as multiple guests played various card games within the billiards room, you pulled the sleeves of your dress down further as you dropped the drink on a floating tray- it's sickeningly sweet taste formed a headache as you pinched your temples.

↳ You strolled around the room, smiling at every face that met yours, shaking hands with others as you enjoyed watching every. single. face. fall in recognition to who they were just flirting with. Stuttering apologies, you grew disappointed when their eyes drifted cautiously around the room for a threat of a man, one of your brothers. You scoff at this, turning towards the next.

↳ With the most recent man that was trying to capitalize on the half-attention you were giving him, absent-mindlessly nodding along to his business proposition as you both strolled around the estate, you found yourselves back at the entrance as your eyes snapped over to the late party-goers just making their arrivals, one of them being just the man you were waiting for as he stumbles through the open doors.

His beauty stumps you in person, the blurry pictures you obtained from at the table do not do the man justice as he practically glows under the warm lighting above. His hair tussled in a wind-swept way as your hands itch to fix every strand. Chocolate eyes are all you want to drink in before your attention is being called back as you start to glare at the intrusion.

"So what do you think, Mademoiselle Shelby?" the man asks to you, hand starting to drift up your arm, another on your leg before your eyes snap back down to his face from over the crowd. You rip your arm away from his touch, sending him a cold smile as you fix the lapels of his jacket for him, gripping the suit closest to his neck as you pull him closer to you. Any outside looker would think your reaction to be a romantic display yet by the sweat starting to form at his hairline, you were receiving just the reaction you wanted.

"I have no interest in working with a boy who already starts to sweat at the mere touch of a woman," and with that you drop him, watching as he falls into a group of people who all glare down at him, stepping around as he scrambles out the backdoor. You fix your appearance in your phones camera before making your way towards your mission.

--

Edward Horniman's Perspective

Re-buttoning his suit jacket, he places his keys in the hands of a staff-member while making his way up the stairs. Susie had been waiting for him in the lobby rather impatiently, her foot tapping against the tiled floors as she dully looked at the floral decorations that hug around the vaulted space before her eyes snapped to Eddie form spinning around to face her.

"You look a bit shit," she says while eyeing him up and down, taking notice to the small amount of blood beginning to form at his side with distaste.

"Remind me why we're here?" Eddie states, taking the conversation reigns as he begins to glance around the room. Susie begins walking closer to him, making their way out of the foyer.

"We are here to learn why Uncle Sam wants in to your estate and subsequently our Business," Susan replies, a subtle shake of her head as if ringing out the terrible idea of it all. Her feet start to falter as she instantly notices you stepping into the room behind them both with a champagne flute delicately place in your hand.

"Then whats his business?" Eddie pushes forwards, moving them both through the sea of people as Susie snaps her head back forwards, doing her best to maintain composure and not cause a scene as she allows Eddie to guide her further into the estate.

"Meth. He's made billions from it."

"Then what are you, Susan, a drug dealer with a heart?" Eddie question's, raising a brow as he stops to pick them both up a drink. A small smile spreading across his lips as they chime together before Susie proceeds to down the rest of it.

"Everything alright?" concern now rising in his features as he looks around the room, his gaze stopping, breath intaking sharply at the sight of you. He is unable to tear his gaze away as you turn your head to face him, you offer a small smile. Eyeing the man from his shoes, the seam of his pants, his neck that swallow deeply as your hand rises from your side, up to your collarbones as you delicately play with the necklace you wear. You finally stop at his eyes as you mouth a cheeky hello before turning around back towards the bar.

Susie still remains looking at her now empty drink, unknowing to Eddie's distraction by the sound of the crowd as she continues conversation normally. "We like money just as the next man, but his gear comes with a rather violent price tag. We stay in our lane because comparatively, its a peaceful one. We let him in, carnage will follow."

Susie now looks up, noticing that Eddie had not replied to her speech as she follows his gaze to your back as your fingers play with the lip of your cup. You laugh at whatever the bartender had just said to you before your glass has been topped off once more, you turn around, flashing them both a smile before slowly making your way closer to them.

Eddie takes a step forwards, wishing to meet you halfway before Susie reigns him in, nails digging into the arm of his suit jacket as she pulls him back to her side.

"I don't think you are quite ready for the big leagues, Captain-" Susan warns, looking at the side of Eddies face before he turns back to her, a charming smile accentuating his features before he speaks.

"I just killed a man, Susie. I think I can handle speaking to a woman-"

"Hm, well thats just not any ordinary woman, Edward. That is Miss. Shelby- the possible saviour to every one of our problems if we did not already... push some buttons," Susie states, smile waning as you get progressively closer, many people still try and gain your attention as you hold up your hand, wishing not to be disturbed.

"And there's room to fix that I'm sure, but what exactly did WE do?" Before Susie could answer, your heels are in front of Eddies dress shoes as you extend a hand forwards in greeting. "Miss. Shelby," Susie greets you with a composed look, her smile dropped as she tries to stare through you.

Edward picks up your hand, pressing a kiss on to the back of it as you hold hands for longer than necessary before pulling away. "Your Grace, Miss. Glass," you greet, "a pleasure it is to see you both here tonight." Your voice is like honey, hanging in the air as you smile at them both.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Shelby," Edward replies, noticing Susie's mock indifference as she shifts her weight slightly under your faux-gentle eyes; sharped to a cutting-stare as you strike her down. "You two make a rather charming couple, if I may ask, how recent is this development?" you question, hiding your growing smirk in your drink as Eddie's gaze falls to your lips and the print you leave against the glass, snapping back up to your eyes- yours crinkle in a second greeting.

"You have yourself mistaken, Myself and Miss. Glass are merely business associates," Eddie clarify as you set your glass gently on the bar-top, hand brushing against Eddies bicep in the movement. Your eyes continue to lock on to one another, a silent conversation being played as you lean a bit closer, taking a deeper look at his features as you notice Eddies gaze roam your's own. In that moment, Susie decides to step back into the conversation.

"What does your family want?" she deadpans, eyeing the closing distance between you and Eddie with hardened eyes as her hand threatens to crush the glass in her hand. "Well, by the looks of it, your business had became my business, thanks to your mingling," you charismatically charm, hand hovering on Eddies arm as you adore the jealous look brewing inside her.

"And if you two are merely just associates, I think this calls for a more... personal discussion with the Duke since our businesses are now becoming tied together, is that not tight Susie?" you finish with as Eddie looks between the two of you, undeceiving of who to follow alongside. But by the look of your eyes snapping to his lips once more as you tongue swipes across your own, parting them slightly- his decision is made.

"I will be back in a moment, Susie," Edward says, following in-step as you lead him out of the crowded space. Just as Eddie reaches the hall, he casts his head back, sending Susie a knowing look as if to say, I'm fixing it before disappearing. Susie glares at your lipstick stained glass sat on the counter with distaste before being led towards Mr. Johnston by his assistant.

--

Your Perspective

Success, you cheer to yourself, as you loop your arm around Eddies arm, leading him towards a nearby study you know to be empty. The door softly closes behind you both. In the next moment, you pull Eddies arm to his side, shoving him against the door as it rattles from the impact.

Eddie's eyes are blown wide as he hisses out slightly in pain, forgetting about the gun-shot wound before becoming distracted by the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Your heels make you tall enough to capture his lips into a delicate battle of heated touches, your skirt being bunched up by Eddies hands, your gentle caresses of the stubble of his cheeks as playful bite his lower lip, wishing to explore more.

Gasping for air as you pull away, you further taint his skin a deep red to match his lips you coated in your lipstick. Pressing a kiss at the side of his mouth as he whispers out a tease before you trail over to his cheek, paving a way to his chin and down his neck as his head raises, exposing more skin for your greedy lips. He grips your hips, keeping you in place as you suck a mark onto the base of his neck. A soft moan escaping between his lips before an equally greater hiss as blood continues to pour out of his side.

You take a step back, gently opening his jacket, your eyes cast upwards, through your lashes as you playfully pout. You place a palm at his inner thigh, watching as his eyes grow in size as your hand drifts just past the growing bulge in his pants- stopping slightly before the wound as you hum out thoughtfully while looking at it.

"My, my, your grace. Whatever do you have here?" You rhetorically ask before pressing your hand into the opening, listening as he hisses out, hands swiftly moving off your hips and onto your hand as they pull your touch off of him side.

"You little fucking temptress," Eddie curses out, eyes darkened as his tongue sweeps over his lips, you take a few steps back. The Duke presses himself off the wall, taking wide strides as your hands begin to sweat yet you do not break eye contact. Continuing to swiftly walk backwards as best you can in heels before tripping over a rug and falling against the back of a chair.

Eddie's arms cage you in against the chair, your breath hitching as he places his face within the crook of your neck. His facial hair tickling your skin, a soft burn forming with every word he speaks, "Now tell me, Miss. Shelby, what is it you want from me?"

You swallow. Hard. Knuckles turning white at the force you grip the chair with before trying to compose yourself, a shaky breath you exhale conceal in a moan. Pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, "I want you to kiss me, Eddie," you murmur, hand fixing those curls you wanted to from the start. Your fingers curl around a few strands within an instant as Eddie sucks a bruise to your neck, licking the area afterwards. "What are you here for?" he questions once more as you shake your head, wondering how far you can truly push this.

"No. That was not a proper kiss, sir. Kiss me." You state again, taking a deep breath in as victory when Eddie pulls away, eyes boring into your own, blood now tainting the band of his pants as your eyes flicker down to it. Your chin is gripped as Eddie pulls you into that proper kiss you were begging for but he pulls away too quickly as you press your lips together to hide your frown. Your cheeks were warm, hair a mess, your chest raises up and down like you had just ran a mile.

Edward appears in the same state as he stumbles back, hand gripping his side, eyes tipping down to your chest before snapping back up with a cold look- you needed to answer, couldn't have your signature bleeding out before he could sign.

"I need you out of my bettings, your grace," you breathily state, hand placed on your chest as you feel your heart-rate still bumping fast. You take deeper intakes of air, feeling for your heart starting to slow as you watch Eddie crunch over, blood-loss starting to make him go dizzy.

You swiftly stand and hobble towards the desk, finding a first aid kit in one of the lower drawers as you unknowingly bend down in front of Eddie as he curses you out once more, you look back, murmuring an apology before standing up straight and beginning to make work of his clothes, jacket off, tie discarded and shirt unbuttoned, you pluck the remnants of the bullet out from his side.

Eddie grits his teeth together, hands curled into fists as he watches you work, your tweezers poking into his muscle. "If you would stop watching me so closely, maybe I could focus more and poke you less," you sass, looking up at his while blowing the hair out of your eye. Eddie fixes the stand behind your ear before raising his hand once more. "Well just a minute ago you were practically on your knees begging for me to look at you," Eddie responds with a smirk, you huff and maintain your work, gathering the last bits of metal before treating the area and wrapping his torso snuggly.

The Duke's blood stains your hands as you look down at them thoughtfully. The thick liquid cascades off your fingertips, falling onto your dress, marking a pair of birds. "You owe me a new dress," you say, wiping your hands with the small cloth the kit provided before taking a stand. You start to walk away before Eddie grasps your arm, you pause mid-step, feet now plated in wait.

"Thank you, Miss. Shelby. I will sign to never fix a game with your business if you promise to have a meeting with Miss. Glass and I," Edward compromises, letting go of your arm and watches as you walk towards the exit, "I don't think you are in any position to make compromises, nevertheless demands, Edward. But... I'll keep you updated on my decision," and with that you close the door softly behind yourself for him to get dressed. Pressing your forehead to the wooden surface, you grip your hands into fists before settling your head up high as you descend the stairs and move towards the coat room. You sneak your keys and coat before slipping out the side door and walk towards your car.

A series of hastened footsteps against the gravel have you rolling down the window to your Range Rover, foot on the brake, hands on the wheel- ready to make haste. You do your best not to be surprised when the Duke's face greets you on the other side, a I know something you don't smile resting on his features as you raise a brow to it.

"We never exchanged contacts," he states to you casually, as if it were the weather. You hum out, analyzing his statement while look out the windshield before looking back at him. Light rain begins to fall as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek, "I will find you in due time, you and Miss. Glass. Have a good night, your grace." And with that, you roll up your window, and drive off underneath the moonlight.

--

You take a deep sip of your drink as Ada sits still, mouth open as you swear to be losing circulation to you hand. Pins and needles start to form at your fingertips form how tightly she holds onto your hand. "Fuck, sis. Sounds like you got him good," Ada says, barley able to conceal her smile.

Shaking your head you take a deep sip of your near melted lemonade before clearing your throat and checking for the time, it would be an hour's drive from here, you both had to leave soon. "Well even if I have managed to, 'get him good...'" you raise your hands in quotations, starting to mock even the idea of you two together yet your heart speaks otherwise, beating rapidly in your chest as you recount the feeling of his lips on yours. The small hickey on your neck still bruised as you wonder if his has healed since then.

Ada raises a brow, watching as you absent-mindedly reach up towards your mark, fingers circling around the mark as you continue to speak, "...Tommy would never allow it-"

"Fuck what Tommy thinks, he's not you. Do YOU want to see him again?" Ada cuts you off, a serious look taking over every feature, tightening into sharp lines- as if daring you to say else-wise.

You refuse to meet her eyes, looking outside to the near empty tracks, "I mean..."

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung @surazim

↳ A/N: What did you all think? I am quite happy with this being a standalone but I am willing to write a pt.2. If you have any ideas as to where it could go- send an ask, DM, or comment and I'll see what can be done further :) (i'm also taking a break soon... maybe... probably).

[temptress-writes]

🪩 Disco Snow

A/N: soft, groovy seventies Harry.

C.W: DRUG USE. Just my usual nasty shit. Rough, spanking, choking, drug use, spit kink.

Word Count—6.8k

Enjoy x

* * *

Miami 1977.

Chemicals.

Blow.

Tangy, burning, and exciting.

They infiltrate your mind as you bend over the marble countertop in your kitchen.

You slowly come to a stand, wiping your left nostril. You feel your nose tingle and seep into a numbness you know will soon mirror in your throat.

Amber gently bumps your hip, taking the rolled-up bill from your fingers and smoothing out the line of powder laid out for her. She snorts it with a sigh of relief, straightening and flicking a smile your way.

"Feels groovy, huh?"

You roll your head back with a grin, feeling the buzz in your veins already. "So good."

"Let's go, disco chic!"

Miami. A bustling city with a nightlife that thrills you. A deep contrast to the person you are during more acceptable hours.

For tonight, you switched out your sleepwear for your favourite orange bell-sleeved mini dress. Your feet are settled into your white knee-high platform boots.

Amber's done your makeup in hues of emerald green, and orange lipstick to match your attire. She fiddles with the hem of her blue mini dress as you hail a cab to the curb and set on your way to the club.

The Hall of Mirrors.

A club infamous for its disco music, great alcohol, and acceptance for anyone. It's where you frequently go to have a good night, much like most in the city. It's where anyone of any sex could go and rely on the building to hold their secrets. Withhold judgment.

The Hall of Mirrors is no stranger to your secrets. To your nights of sneaking down dark hallways and slipping to your knees for a man, or into a supply closet to taste a woman on your mouth. Tripped out on pills or lines of snow.

The music calls to you before you even go in. The bouncer knows you well, allowing you entry without so much as a second glance. The club is packed, which isn't unusual. The collection of disco balls hang from the ceiling, the strobe lights reflecting tiny fragments of light from them. They bounce across every inch of skin, every section of the walls. The pattern heightens your sense of lucidity, red, pink, and purple semi-circular wallpaper that you know will begin to distort as the night progresses.

And as if you need a reminder of how much you're dying for a drink, you taste the stark sugar slipping down your throat. With a grimace at the strong taste of it, you pull Amber to the bar.

Cameron, one of the bartenders, waves at you, mouthing your usual? You nod, pleased when she places two gin and tonics on the bar top in front of you and Amber.

It's all feels like a blur. It always does during the buildup. The drive to the club, the quenching of thirst with gin. The night doesn't truly start until you're on the dance floor.

"Bottoms up, chic!" Amber yells over the bass of the music.

You cheer your glasses together and down the contents. The ice clinks against your teeth, but your gums are so numb you barely feel it.

"Let's show these bitches who own the dance floor!"

The two of you squish and squeeze past dancers to get to the middle, soon finding a rhythm along to The Hustle. Unashamed, you yell out the words, swaying and throwing your best moves her way.

You can feel the effects start to energise your body. The way it seems to make you feel unstoppable, sexy, otherworldly.

You wrap your arms around Amber's neck, letting her turn in your hold and rub against you. In any other setting, this would harbour attention from others that one could only deem as judgmental. But not here. Not in the Hall of Mirrors. Here you are free and open.

It's a sensation of effortlessness. You feel limitless. One with the music, one with every soul in the building. After a parade of songs, you and Amber pull away from the dance floor and slip into the bathroom, refreshing the buzzing high in your veins before heading back out.

And then you see him. It's an eerie sort of feeling. It's a dance floor, it doesn't necessarily have the best lighting and there are so many people. But it's almost as if you're meant to see him. A flash of light illuminates his existence momentarily before the strobe fades away and appears elsewhere.

What you notice first are curls. Dripping waves parted in the middle of his head that spiral along his forehead, sticking to the skin with perspiration. A jeweled hand comes up to brush them away from his vision before he erupts in a dimpled smile at his friend. Even from here, you can make out the shape of his bunny teeth.

And then he spins in a circle and throws some finger guns. From there, your exploration veers south. A low-cut black tank top, exposing two swallows fluttering their wings against his chest, a cross pendant nestled safely between them.

His broad shoulders sport more ink and your eyes dart across every bare inch of skin and you spot a smattering of tattoos along his arms.

As if to contrast his more intimidating attire, from the hips down is bubblegum pink. Flared pants that hug his hips and accentuate the length of his legs. He lifts his leg, the bell-bottoms sharing a glimpse of his footwear. Patent black leather books with an impressive heel. Already so tall and towering, you admire how he's wearing them as a fashion statement and nothing more.

He holds his friend's hands, arching them high in the air before swirling his hips and yelling along to the song. His friend, lanky and shaggy-haired, pulls away and gives his best shot at the robot.

Amber clicks her fingers in front of you. "You good?"

You blink, steering your vision away from him and back to her. "Yeah, buzzing now!"

And you dance like no one is watching. You try to drive your attention away from the man who clearly hasn't seen you.

Sweaty. Hot. Snow.

Your body feels like a live wire, the music thrumming in your veins.

Your feet are throbbing but you don't care. Your vision floats back to the man and a sense of delight washes over you at the sight of him. He's closer to you now, bumping his hips to the song. Your brows raise when he grinds his bum up against a man's crotch.

Amber doesn't question when you inch towards him. It's subtle, and you keep dancing and swaying and singing.

You look up at him again and every cell in your body freezes. He's looking at you. And there's this moment when your eyes lock that the music fades. Like a bubble encases you and almost mutes it. It's very brief but still so staggering.

Suddenly, you're all bubblegum and curls.

His lips curl up into a devastatingly beautiful smile at you. He's still dancing, you're still dancing. But you're smiling at each other and suddenly bubblegum flares and chocolate curls are moving towards you. He slips past people and your dancing doesn't slow as he approaches.

Amber, so out of it and not picking up on the interaction, leeches to a man next to her and swirls her hips against him.

Up close, the man is even more stunning. Your eye line is at his chest and you spy a light dusting of hair and a film of sweat.

He grins down at you and your cheeks blush bubblegum.

"Who can do the best sprinkler?" He asks you, having to yell over the music. His accent is deep and wispy. Of course, the man with one of the most daring outfits in the joint would be British.

"Oh, it's definitely me." You offer with a sultry smile.

"Confident..." He nods, resting his hands on his hips. "I like that."

"What, you think you can out-dance me?"

He throws you a playful glare, waiting for the chorus of the song to drop before throwing his arm around in a sprinkler movement. His other hand around his head while the sprinkler, jeweled fingers, splay towards you.

And you can't help but giggle, hiding it behind your hand but the glint in your eyes is far too telling. His expression of pure joy dropping into one of unamused horror.

"Let's see it then, foxy."

You laugh, shaking your limbs out and showing off your best sprinkler move. He sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. You wrinkle your nose and shrug your shoulders up at the piercing sound.

"We have a winner!" He shouts, hands waving through the air and alarming a few people around you. You lightly shove at his chest, your cheeks hurting from laughing so much. "Does the sprinkler queen have a name? The people need to know."

You feel very shy, suddenly. As if the influence of the power has been overshadowed by him. You give him your name, not missing the way his lips curl around the letters as he recites it to you.

"'M Harry."

Harry. Smooth. Bubblegum.

"It's nice to meet you."

His fingers come up to toy with the flared sleeve of your dress. "Love the threads."

You gesture to his pink pants. "Yours, too."

He clicks his tongue, grabs your hand, and spins you in a circle. "You flatter me. Let's throw some shapes, foxy lady!"

You grab his hands, encouraging him to shimmy with you. He's a great dancer. Tall and unashamed, moving his body without thought and doing the most ridiculous dance moves. You feel so hot and you're not sure if it's because of him, the dance floor, or the snow you snorted before.

Harry spins on his heels, forming peace signs with his fingers and waving them in front of his eyes. You mirror him with a grin and he admires the way the disco ball reflects off your face and ignites your beauty. He feels like he's been kicked in the chest. What started as a chill night out and a boogie became so much more once he saw you.

Your orange dress, tangerine and inviting. Your green eyeshadow, an exotic lagoon he's lost in.

He brings you closer, pressing you flush against his body and moving his hips with yours. His hands squeeze at your hips and if this were any other man, you'd be slapping his touch away.

But Harry is soft and colourful. Endlessly endearing. You can tell he's confident and sure of himself and that's probably the sexiest thing about him. Aside from his bare chest and tattoos. And his hair. And his smile.

"You skiing the snow tonight, little fox?"

You nod, your head feeling like a bobblehead on your neck. Your spine is tingling and the way he's looking at you is making every limb feel like jelly.

He grips the side of your neck, holding you close and resting his forehead on yours. It happens so quickly but he's so confident and you're so comfortable so you don't mind.

"Keep a lookout, yeah?"

You give him another nod. You're always so sure of yourself and now this one particular stranger is leaving you speechless. But what else can you say?

He slips his fingers into his tight tanktop to produce a small clear bag from the confines. He wiggles his brows at you and looks around you briefly before opening it up.

It's unlikely anyone would be sober enough to cause a problem with it. But he's more avoiding drawing attention to it because people will flock to him for a hit.

He thumbs the bag open, his eyes lifting to meet yours before he throws you a wink. Lifting the pendant sat between his defined pecs, he gathers a small mound of snow on the longest bar of the cross.

"Ladies first."

The chain being around his neck means he can only bring it so far to you. You lean forward, pressed right up against him, and nudge your face up so you can snort the prepared powder.

You sigh through a smile as it seeps into your bloodstream. It refreshes your high. Your energy unmatched as you start to dance to the music again. But this time it's right up against him, his core tucked up against you. Bubblegum and snow.

His hand reaches out to wipe a bit of excess power decorating the edge of your nose with a soft giggle. He gathers his own smidgen of power and snorts it before putting the bag away.

And then you're dancing. Your ass works in sweet little circles against his crotch and you rest your head back on his chest, looking up at him to let him know. Let him know that you feel him against you, growing for you.

Hard bubblegum.

Melting snow.

He twirls you, bringing his hands onto your shoulders and using his feet to find a beat with the music. More Than a Woman starts playing and you both let out excited yells. He pulls you into him again. He can't help but spin you so your ass is against him. He wraps his arms around you, your hands tangling with his where they meet at your chest.

When you start grinding back on him, his hands melt down to your hips to roll them back. Gooey bubblegum.

You watch him, his hair parted in the middle with curls falling down his forehead. He smiles down at you, a slow, lip curling, dimple encased smile. It's earth-shatteringly beautiful and when he licks his lips, you feel it resonate directly between your thighs.

His hand comes up, running up your sternum and to your throat. He can feel your heart beating under the skin, fluttering just as severely as his is. His fingers grip your chin and he leans down. His nose brushes yours and your ass presses deliciously firm against his crotch and then you really feel him.

Your eyes flicker from his, down the strong line of his nose and to his lips. Bubblegum pink, plump, and inviting.

He lets out a soft moan and then he's kissing you. It's soft at first as if gauging your reaction. Maybe he's seeing how you like it. If you want it rushed. If you want it slow and patient and controlled.

Your hand wraps around his neck to hold him there and you open your mouth to flick your tongue against his lower lip. His comes out to meet yours and he tastes phenomenal. Like vodka and cranberry juice and lust.

Harry turns you in his hold and grips your ass in two strong hands. He hauls you upwards until your center is against his. He's hard and even through his pants, you can feel the impressive size of him.

The chorus seems to mirror the newly found excitement in two souls. Climaxing and exciting. You're dancing as if it's your love language. Melting into one person and obsessed with how his body feels against yours.

You can't help but kiss him again, obsessed with the way his lips cradle your bottom one. The way he nibbles on it a little bit. The way he moans against you and screws his hips up to you.

Your eyes open to meet his and over his shoulder, you can see Amber giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up.

His finger comes up to brush your lower lip before he kisses you again with a needy hum. You're not even thinking when you grab his hand and pull him towards the bathroom. You only register his warmth and his arousal and how you want to be closer to it.

He can sense your urgency, and you're both high as shit, two pairs of boots clicking against the floor. You're giggling messes of arousal as you lure him towards the bathrooms and try to find an empty one. There's a powder room, which seems all too fitting. It's deep mint green, luxurious for such a small space. The walls are orange swirls that wave in your vision.

You drag him in and close the door, automatically flipping the lock but he raises a brow when you unlock it again. His curls are askew, your orange lipstick in smudges on and around his mouth.

"Risky move, little fox."

"Shut up."

You're kissing him again. You press him up against the sink, his dick hard against you. He moans as you suck on his tongue and pull him as close as you can get him. His arms wrap around you, his hands fisting the material of your dress at the small of your back. It lifts, scrunching up and exposing your ass.

He grips the bare skin on his hands, rolling your center up against his. His fingers dip between your cheeks, slipping forward until he's brushing your clothed cunt with his fingertips.

You release a soft whimper and roll your warmth along his touch. You're already so wet, you can tell. And so can he.

But before he can explore any further, you're dropping to your knees. Harry swears under his breath as you palm him through his bubblegum pants, so hard and ready for you. You stare up at him, his pupils dilated from the snow and from you.

You pop the single button and pull the zipper down, suddenly not feeling very patient. Your attempt to inch them down so you can play with him further is stunted.

"These are so tight."

He offers a sweet little laugh into the air, pulling his pants down for you, his rings clinking as he does so.

When you finally set your eyes on him, it's then that you feel intimidated for the first time. He's not wearing underwear and for some reason, that alone is already so fucking hot. He's huge. In every aspect. In width, in length. The tip of him is the same colour of his lips, a rosy hue deepening the more turned on he's getting.

You slide forward, wrapping your hand around him. He's silky, smooth, and hot in your palm. You drag your fist up, a drop of pre-come pearling at the tip. You flick your tongue out against it, tasting the saltiness on your taste buds.

Harry groans at the sight of you on your knees for him. He bends down, cupping your chin and angling you up so he can kiss you. He tastes himself on your tongue and he spreads his hand along your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Keep going."

His expression is one of lustful encouragement as he straightens and you envelop the head in your mouth with a suck. You use your hand to work the skin, spreading the wetness from your mouth down his shaft.

You take him deeper, allowing yourself to become fully immersed in pleasing him. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft.

He moans, deep and dirty and you feel it between your legs. He emits a soft sigh as you take him fully, your nose pressed against his abdomen. You can feel the hair there tickle your skin and you retract and start bobbing against him.

The bass of the music conceals the questionable sounds you're making and Harry's hand tightens in your hair as you work him. He rolls his head back on his neck, feeling the tingling in his spine sharpen and bridge out to every limb, every nerve.

Your mouth is searing hot and wet around him, your tongue caressing the underside of his dick. You struggle around the fullness of him but the way he's looking at you spurs you on. He feels amazing, the way he guides you, pushes you further but never past your unspoken boundaries.

You hold him in the back of your throat and the sound he gives you is almost a growl. It's low, derived from his chest and so fucking desperate. Using his hold on your hair, he pulls you back. You've made a mess of him and yourself. Orange lipstick smudges and your spit.

"Come here, little fox."

You stand, stumbling a little in your heels but he spins you and sits you on the countertop. Your dress slips high up your thighs and he squeezes at them. His touch slides higher and he hisses as he meets the lace of your panties.

Your hand comes down to meet his, encouraging it higher. Closer to where you need him. Harry kisses you, one hand on the side of your neck, the other up your dress.

And suddenly, it's like neither of you can wait anymore. You pull him towards you as he slips your panties down your legs, hanging from one ankle. His kisses move from your lips, a messy trail down your chin, your neck, the swell of your breasts.

Then he's kneeling in front of you, his gaze on yours before it slowly slips between your legs. You're saturated for him and his staring is so fucking intimate. He can't wait to taste you, to feel you.

His hand raises, his thumb brushing your clit. Your thighs tense as he rubs slow circles like he's winding you up. His thumb ventures south and parts your folds, collecting your wetness there and dragging it back up to your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his pressure deepens. The added moisture from your arousal feeling somehow sweeter in addition to how he's touching you.

"Pretty thing." He coos, looking back up at you.

He withdraws his thumb and sucks it into his mouth with a hum. Without breaking eye contact, he lowers his head and flicks his tongue ever so gently against your sensitive clit.

You sway your hips up at the slight bit of attention, already desperate for more. He licks up your slit, fully tasting you and closing on your clit in a kiss. You gasp and take a fistful of his hair as he works your cunt with his mouth.

He moves lower, tonguing your entrance and slipping it inside of you while his nose buries itself against your clit.

He shakes his head from side to side, fully absorbed in you. He eats you out so intensely. An enthusiasm you've ever felt from another partner. You look down and his eyes are closed, fully enjoying his head between your legs where he's tasting you.

You pull his hair harder and he moans, the vibrations from it sent throughout your lower half.

Harry raises a finger to his mouth, sucking it past his lips to get it nice and wet. And then he slides it inside of you, flicking it up in a hook to press against your g-spot. Your spine straightens at the sensation, and he slips another finger alongside it. You whine out his name as he pulls the tips of his fingers along your sweet spot, pulsing them and building you up to your release.

He moves his whole arm with blinding speed, the pleasure increasing rapidly. No one has ever made you feel this way, a bliss so deep. He knows exactly what he's doing and he knows how insanely good he's got you.

He looks up at you and gives you the cockiest smirk before sucking on your clit. His teeth nibble on it gently before he traps it between them and flicks his tongue along it. You throw your head back, collapsing against the mirror.

Harry pulls you up, spinning you so you're bent over the counter with your ass perked back. He eats you this way, spreading you open to him and pressing his mouth tight against you. His nose is buried inside you, his tongue against your clit again and he slaps your ass. It's a mild slap but you moan nonetheless.

"Again." You gasp out, so close to coming and addicted to him.

"You're a dirty little fox, aren't you?" He spanks you again. Harder.

You turn and look at him. "Is that all you got?"

He breaths out a laugh and buries his face against your cunt once more, spanking the opposite cheek, hard. And then your lower thigh, right below your ass. The sting is softened by how beautiful his mouth is against you. He finds your clit again to drill his tongue on it.

"I'm close," You reach back, taking a fistful of curls and hold him there.

"That's it," He coos against you. "Come all over my face."

Your orgasm is an eruption of euphoria. Searing hot pink that melts into bubblegum pop. You cry out his name, your entire body going lax against the counter as you fucking shake.

His mouth never lets up, letting you ride through the pleasure of your orgasm. His mouth is slow to leave you as you come down, his lips kissing the skin of your ass.

You're not expecting it when his hands leave your ass all too quickly. You watch him in the mirror as he retrieves his little bag.

"Stay still." He orders. He taps powder onto your ass, right over a handprint he's left. He ensures the line is relatively straight with his finger, one that he soon after gives you to suck the powder off. And he snorts the line he's prepared, licking the residue off your ass with a devilish smile.

And, for good measure, he slaps you again.

You bite your lip to stifle a giggle, reaching back and wrapping your hand around his dick. You work his shaft and he staggers in a couple of steps closer. The tip of him nudges your ass, his pre-come kissing your skin and leaving it wet.

He moans, moving to grip your hips and fully standing behind you. His cock brushes between your legs and you whimper at the anticipation of feeling him even more.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet fox?"

"Yes,"

"Where are your manners?" He's teasing you now. You both know there's no way he's not fucking you.

He's just making you simmer in the heat he's stirred up.

"Please fuck me, Harry."

He loves how your name sounds leaving your mouth. Orange painted lips caressing each letter, sweet and fiery at once.

"There's a good girl."

You feel his tip slide between your folds, he dips his knees to adjust his angle. One hand around his shaft to guide it, the other on your hip with a grip that almost too tight. He takes a step forward, glides his hips forward. And it's pure ecstasy.

The way he stretches you is heavenly. It's a low, humming burn almost. A buzzing delight of feeling so full. He's so big and thick, tucked right up against your g-spot. It feels so fucking good and he hasn't even moved yet.

You release a hefty gasp as he moans out your name at the feel of you.

His other hand wraps itself in your hair to keep you looking at him in the mirror and then he's fucking you. His thrusts are delicious. He's fluid, like rolling waves to shatter a galaxy inside of you.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives you a slow smile before slapping the skin of your ass again. Before you can even cry out at the stinging sensation, he's fucking you so hard you have to bring a hand up to the mirror to balance yourself.

He settles behind you, his lips at your ear. Two sets of breath fog the glass of the mirror.

"That's it, watch me while I destroy this pussy."

The Hall of Mirrors. A second home to you, reflective and encasing. Now you're watching this man fucking destroy you in the bathroom mirror. Your pupils are dilated, much like his are. Black holes, targeting each other and threatening to consume each other.

He wraps his hand around your throat and screws his dick deep, massaging your g-spot so perfectly. You're sure that without the stability of the counter holding you up, you'd be a quivering pile of bones on the floor.

"Fuck, and you thought my pants were tight?" He smirks at you in the mirror.

You release a breathless laugh that's swept away when he starts pounding into you. He grunts with every thrust, taking you so hard you can barely breathe. His skin slaps against yours and he squeezes his hand around your throat to hold you still.

The snow is heightening every sense you have. Your ass is stinging more than normal, your arousal higher than normal. But you know that has more to do with him than narcotics. And when his other hand reaches around to rub your clit, you feel that so strongly that you cry out his name and fucking writhe underneath him.

"Take it, little fox. Take it like the good fucking girl you are."

He moves his hips more sharply, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. He pushes one of your legs up onto the counter and he's so much deeper that way. That in combination with the way he's playing your clit is driving you mental. You're so close and he can feel it, feel your walls tremble and tighten around him.

You're gasping out his name, helpless to how relentlessly he's fucking you. He growls as you clench around his dick, his hand on your throat slipping up so he can put two of his fingers in your mouth. You suck on them gratefully, using your teeth to show him how good he's fucking you.

You're so fucking close but he does the unthinkable... he pulls away. Completely. Leaving you empty and teetering on the edge, yanking you back abruptly.

He doesn't give you a second to question him before he's spinning you around and sitting you up on the counter. He steps forward and you scoot towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your hand takes his shaft once more, pulling the skin in a firm first. He moans and lulls his forehead against yours.

"I was so close." You pout hotly against his lips.

"I'll get you there again," He hums, grabbing the base of his dick and running the tip of it between your saturated folds. "Is this what you want?"

"Please," You lean forward and kiss him. His length nudges your entrance but he makes no move to do anything further. "Give me your cock."

"That's what I want to hear."

He smiles, wrapping his hand around your throat again and sliding inside of you with one smooth movement of his hips. Your mouth drops open at the fullness of him. He's so much deeper this way, and so much more intimate with the way he's staring at you.

"Fuck me, Harry. Hard."

He releases another moan, this one more of a growl, and starts fucking you again. Using his hold around your throat and another hand on your hip. He leans you back a little so he can fully enjoy the display of your body and watch where he's fucking you.

He brings your head forward by your throat, your mouth opening at the force and he takes the chance to spit in your mouth.

"Get your clit for me while I fuck this pretty little cunt."

You whimper, sticking your fingertips into your mouth to get them wet with your spit as well as his. And with a shaking hand, reach down with and rub your clit. You feel the bursts of your orgasm brewing, your walls quivering around him.

It's building quickly and you kiss him again, feeling them tingle in your toes with every brush of his tongue. The door behind him starts to open, a drunk man slurring his words behind it. Harry slams it shut while your hand flies from your clit.

"Ocupado!" Harry yells out, his hips faltering momentarily as he locks the door.

Your cheeks heat at the prospect of someone walking in and seeing you this way. A little in embarrassment, a little in excitement.

Harry senses that you're thrown off and fucks your harder, his fingers finding your clit. "Don't worry about him, sweet little fox. You're so close, let's get you there. I can fucking feel it."

You cry out as he destroys you from the inside out, working you into a pleasured frenzy. His hand pulls the top of your dress down over your tits and they spill out. He squeezes them, pulling at your nipples and biting them.

"Harry, oh my god-"

"That's it, come for me." He growls. "Put me away wet."

Your orgasm rolls through you intensely, staggering. Your hands claw at Harry's shoulders as you shake uncontrollably. His dick is unrelenting inside of you, his fingertips not letting up in the delicious patterns against your clit.

"Fucking shit." He marvels over how you feel, how tight and amazing you feel. He's so fucking turned on by you and his hips keep screwing against you.

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck and biting the skin there. He smells amazing. Like he's been dancing in a pool of vanilla and lavender all night. As you come down from your climax, you retract and watch where he's fucking you.

"Dreamy little cunt," He babbles, so out of it. "get so wet and tight when you come, don't you?"

"Only for you." You coo, kissing him again. He's already far better than any sexual partner you've ever had. Your walls are still trembling around him and every single tremor sends him closer to his end.

"I'm gonna come so hard- shit, you feel so good."

"I want you to come, Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I want you to feel as good as I do."

He smiles at you, dimples galore, his cheeks as pink as his pants. And then he pins you to the counter by your throat, spreading you back until you're pressed against the mirror. He starts fucking you harder, messier as his cock throbs inside of you.

"Stunning little fox, so fucking perfect. Dancing in this tiny little dress," His hands grip at your breasts some more.

"Harry-"

"Grinding your ass against me, getting me hard for you. Dirty girl, fuck. You own me."

He's working himself up now, his hand tightening around your throat and forcing you to keep looking at him. He's spouting out filthy words into the air between you, unashamed and doing so much for you. You can't help but reach down and play your clit again.

He gives you a laugh, one almost of disbelief. "You like when I talk to you, hm?"

"So much."

"You gonna let me fuck you again, sweet little thing?"

"You can fuck me whenever you want." Because you both know this is the beginning of something new and exciting.

That sets him off. His orgasm blooms and spreads. Pops like a bubble of gum. He pulls out, working his hand on his shaft so fast it's a blur. You move your hand and watch him in awe. He comes directly on your pussy, mouthing dirty words and breathless moans. His other hand gripping your thigh so hard you know it will bruise.

He watches where he's painted you, his come dripping on your lower abdomen, along your clit and your folds. He's a mess, breathing heavily and working the rest of his high from his length.

Thoughtless, he crouches and licks his orgasm from your skin. You moan as he kisses you there, licking every ounce of his come in his mouth. His tongue teases your clit and your thighs jump at the sensitivity.

He stands, cloudy and slow. And he grips your chin harshly, forcing you to open your mouth. As soon as you do, he's spitting heavily into it.

"Don't swallow."

As you fully taste his come on your tongue, he's kissing you. You moan, tasting his orgasm with yours, his tongue with yours. It's so dirty and unhinged but you can't help but feel fucking feral for him over it.

"Good girl." He praises as he pulls away.

He rights his attire, his movements lagged. Like the only thing he can fathom is you and everything else is a chore.

You stare at him, your panties hanging from one ankle, your pussy glistening and spent from him. Bubblegum obsessed. Chocolate curls addicted.

"Gorgeous little fox. Should we ditch this joint and head back to mine?"

You sit up and throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. "Yes, please."

"I want to enjoy you properly." He sighs against your mouth. "Get you out of this dress. Spread you along my sheets, watch your tits bounce while you ride me."

You breathe out a soft whimper at the idea of continuing this for the rest of the night. "I love the sound of that."

He kisses you, deep and wet. "Make you come until I'm dripping in you."

His length, returned to the confines of his pants once more, twitches against your thigh.

"We need to actually leave this room for that to happen." You muse.

He lets out a loud cackle, cupping the back of your neck to draw you towards him. He helps you fix your dress, your panties stripping from your foot and you raise a brow as he tucks them into the back pocket of his pants.

"Didn't know you'd have much room for anything else in those."

"That cheeky mouth is why you're not getting your panties back."

After another round of kisses, the two of you emerge from the room. And while you're both giddy with excitement from what has happened and what else the night holds, no one else in the club bats an eye. Your underwear feels heavy and scandalous in his pocket as he guides you through the crowded dance floor, both of your hands wrapped around one of his.

Thanks to his already tall frame, and heels, he locates his friend quickly. Who is chatting to Amber. You raise a brow at her with a cheeky smile at the sight of them dancing together.

Harry's friend holds his hand out to you, "Mitch!"

You shake his hand and introduce yourself, projecting your voice over the music. You turn to Amber. "We're going to head off, are you okay here?"

She nods frantically. "Honey, I'm so okay!"

Mitch and Harry exchange smirks and hug goodbye.

"Peace, love, and granola, Mitch!"

The air of Miami cools your skin as you step out onto the curb. Harry lags behind, admiring the curve of you and the skin the low hem of your dress offers. He grabs your hand and spins you in a little circle before giving an ear-piercing whistle to hail a cab.

He's all over you in the back of the car. His lips going from yours down your neck, the swell of your breasts. The hem of your dress hitched up, your legs slung over his lap as he fucking devours you. Savours you. Ravishes you.

His apartment, much like his attire is bold, bright, and brave. Warm oranges and reds. Like a sunset on fire, or the heated and sizzling arousal between you. It cozy and art deco and very much Harry. He offers you a half-assed tour of his home but he's undressing you with his eyes. The silhouette of your dress begging for him to see just how much better you are underneath the material.

And once you reach his bedroom, the large, circular bed is all you can focus on. Mint green bedding. The room itself is impressive, the wall behind the bed sporting what looks like a melted sunset. Orange, pink yellow all mended together to offer an accent. Harry peels off your boots and the yellow shaggy rug is soft against your toes.

He puts a record on to spin, Just One Look playing softly in the air.

Suddenly, you're on your back on the bed. Harry hovers over you, his hand cupping your cheek as if he really can't believe you're real.

Is he tripping on a tab of acid or are you really in front of him? Unbelievably lucid and dreamy. Causing fireworks and sunsets in his tummy.

Your eyeshadow matches his bedsheets, he realizes. Little fox, you're meant to be.

His sheets are crisp and smell of him. The tones of his sheets are similar to the mint green of the powder room as if a continuation of what started in there. Dirty, open, and vulnerable.

Like the disco balls in the Hall of Mirrors, fragments of two glass souls mended together in beautiful unity. Dazzling, luminous. Capturing every fraction of light to reflect it in hues every spectrum can admire.

[missredherring]

Given a Name

Oberyn Martell x Fat!Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: T

Word Count: 1127

Summary: "This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin.

How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong.

This will be my greatest selfishness.

Contents: Angst. Mentions of canon character deaths. Allusions to Greek mythology cos I'm a nerd. Reader chooses a name for herself.

A/N: this fic is part of @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble challenge! I was given the prompt of "To Someone From a Warm Climate” + Oberyn.

(I know the prompt was just for Oberyn, but I could never exclude Ellaria. 😔)

Thanks for putting this together, Gin! It was a lot of fun to puzzle over.

I love Isekais.

Not beta read; all errors are my own.

General Interest Tags: @oonajaeadira @perotovar @psychedelic-ink @prolix-yuy @covetyou @morallyinept @undercoverpena @janaispunk

You've failed.

There are two nights and three days left until Oberyn Martell will meet his end at the hands of Gregor Clegane. When his hubris finally gets the best of him and stills his quick feet.

The knowledge has been a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach all night.

You managed to survive the long, dark nights until the sun of the Dornish banner broke over the horizon and filled you with something that felt like hope.

You thought that the hardest thing you’d have to do when you found yourself in the Seven Kingdoms was to secure safety and shelter. Ironically, the excess fat on your body is something out of the ordinary in a world where the people starve regularly and weight is seen as a luxury only the wealthy can afford.

It wasn’t hard to catch Oberyn’s eye, but it was difficult to prove your worth with your mind instead of your body. You can only thank whatever gods are listening that events are unfolding along plot lines you’re familiar with. Foreknowledge is a weapon you’ve learned to wield well.

Ever since joining the Prince’s retinue on the road to King’s Landing and the dark fate that waited there, you’ve been trying to find a way to change his mind on the matter. But as the days went by and as each suggestion was batted away, you accepted the grim truth that Oberyn is not a man to be lured away from his convictions. Any thoughts of changing this destiny have been abandoned. The wound was too deep and scarred his poet's heart irreparably.

"May I join you tonight, my prince?" You ask when the plates are taken away and more wine is set out.

Oberyn gives you his full attention, interest sparking the banked lust that’s always glowing in his eyes. His languid body perks up, sitting straight in his seat for a moment before he gets to his feet to refill his goblet.

“Oh? Are you finally accepting our invitation?”

“If it is still offered, I would like nothing more.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. There are things you’d like more: his acceptance of your council of his duel with the Mountain, indoor plumbing, antibiotics, and a safe way home to name a few.

Tomorrow night will be for Oberyn and Ellaria, but tonight… you can ask for tonight for yourself.

“Of course. But I cannot continue to call you by title only if we are to be lovers, my soothsayer.”

The true intention of filling his own goblet is clear: he has halved the distance between you by moving to the sideboard. It only takes two of his long strides to reach you, and his hand suddenly trailing over the back of your chair makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle with awareness.

"Cassandra." You offer him the name and he latches on to it.

“Cassandra.” He says.

Oberyn runs a finger over the exposed skin of your shoulder, and you feel the line as clearly as if he had drawn it with a quill. His touches before had been kept to what politeness allowed: brushes of his fingers against yours and the fleeting press of his mouth to the back of your hand. But now at your request he’s testing you, seeing if the boundaries have truly moved or if this is another of your tactics.

His eyes watch your face as that finger follows the neckline of your dress, pausing just at the swell of your breast before turning, going down your arm to take your hand, and gently commanding you to stand.

“Cassandra,” He repeats the name, rolling it over his tongue and changing the pronunciation with his accent. He pulls it apart, putting the syllables back together in a Dornish fashion, and you wish it was that easy to relieve the name of its burden.

Every time he says it is another press on the bruise of your heart. He catches your flinch and tilts his head.

How can a man blinded by his revenge see you so clearly?

"That is not your given name."

"It's as true a name for me as any of the things I have told you." You say, trying to keep the frustration from your voice.

He has taken your council about the events leading up to the death of King Joffrey, but the opportunity to finally avenge Elia has presented itself at his feet, deafening him to any suggestion that would turn him from that doomed path.

The conversation about his quest for revenge has been hashed out many times at this point. Oberyn is so close to one ending that he cannot, or will not, see the paths to other options.

“I’ve decided to finally give in to your temptations, Oberyn. To indulge in my desires.” You say, feeling a little relieved when he smiles. He likes the idea, the stroke to his ego, as you knew he would. You’re just glad the allure of a body like yours hasn’t lessened over the time you’ve spent together.

"This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin.

How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong.

This will be my greatest selfishness.

"Yes. It would be even greater if Ellaria joined us." It’s daring, to demand them both like this, but he would never deny Ellaria anything she wished. You both turn to her for an answer.

Just like the Prince, it has been too easy to fall under the charms of his paramour. She is his equal in every way that matters, including your regard.

Ellaria watches you with dark worried eyes, and you have to steel yourself against the urge to weep. You want to beg for her forgiveness. Apologize for not being able to give more warning than the dread she already feels. Will you turn from me, when all is said and done? When he’s nothing but a broken corpse on the stadium floor, will you leave me behind? Will you forget me in the chaos of the aftermath?

You hold your other hand out to her in invitation, and try to keep your face steady when she makes a soft noise of delight.

Oberyn’s mouth is warm on your temple. He only turns your head away from Ellaria when he cannot wait any longer to take your mouth in a searing kiss.

You will give them the pleasure of your body, allow yourself to rest your mind in a tangle of limbs, and let this memory be the last golden rays of your Dornish sunset as the uncertain night waits beyond the windows.

[callsign-mayhem]

southern state of mind

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 2.7k

You and Jake are best friends, bonded by your hometown and love for line dancing. You take Bradley and Natasha into the city to a country and western bar and teach them to dance, and hopefully to make your move. 

Y/CS - your call sign 

Use of Y/N but no description of reader

A/N: I wrote this with the bar scene from Footloose (2011) in mind. Listen to ‘Fake ID’ by Big & Rich and Gretchen Wilson when you read the final scene.

The music was turned up deafeningly loud and your foot was against the floor and, in your opinion, it was the best way to drive anywhere. Nothing said summer like speeding down the highway at sunset with the roof of the Jeep off and the wind in your hair, and it was even better with company. Taking the top off your car was a somewhat tedious job and you’d enlisted Bradley and Jake’s help earlier that afternoon especially for your little road trip into the city. It had been well worth it as the vibes, to put it simply, were immaculate.

Obviously Jake had called shotgun before you’d even left your apartment but you didn’t really mind; he was one of the very few people who was allowed to have the aux cord in your car. Music had been one of the first things you’d bonded over. That and the fact that you were both from Austin.

Natasha and Bradley were sitting in the back sipping gin and tonic from a can, quite happy watching the world pass them by while you and Jake belted the lyrics to a Jason Aldean song. It had taken a long time for you to get to this point with Jake and you knew most of the squad still weren’t completely sold on him, but you were hoping tonight might help change that. You wanted them to see the side of him he seemed to save especially for you, hence why you were heading into the city to a country and western bar you’d found online. It was one of the rare weekends you were all free and after a lot of convincing, Bradley and Natasha had agreed to go with you.

You locked eyes with Bradley in the rearview mirror. He had his aviators perched precariously on the edge of his nose and when you stuck your tongue out at him, he winked at you. It was damn lucky you didn’t crash the fucking car.

You glanced away in embarrassment and continued your duet with Jake, desperately hoping that he hadn’t noticed the blush dusting the apples of your cheeks. Originally it was just going to be you and Hangman - a friend date if you will - but then he’d had the brainwave of inviting Bradley as a way of finding out if he reciprocated the feelings you had for him. Telling Jake about your crush was probably the worst decision you’d ever had the misfortune of making because he’d been coming up with creative ways to try and get you together ever since. There’d been a few times where you’d almost considered outing yourself just so Jake couldn’t. You agreed to his plan this time, hoping it would be the last time you ever had to, but you insisted on inviting Natasha too. For one, she was more fun on a night out than both the guys put together, but also because you couldn’t imagine spending time with just Jake and Bradley alone. It would be one big dick-swinging contest.

The sun was low in the sky, glinting off all the skyscrapers that made up the gorgeous San Diego skyline. Jake reached into the glove compartment and pulled out your own pair of aviators and you took them gratefully, trying to put them on one-handed. Instead of watching you struggle he snatched them back off you and put them on you himself, poking the tip of your nose once he was done. If you’d chanced a look in the rearview mirror at that moment you would have seen Bradley watching this exchange, eyes hidden behind his glasses again. The only thing that gave his annoyance away was the stubborn set of his jaw, but that was Bradley Bradshaw all over. For the most part, he kept his feelings bottled up until he couldn’t anymore, and then he’d explode when he least expected it.

You didn’t know it, but Bradley had been spending a lot of nights laying awake wondering if he should tell you how much he liked you, weighing out the pros and cons in his cluttered mind. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t hiding it from you because he was scared of rejection. In fact, the only reason he kept stopping himself from grabbing you and kissing you senseless was because of Hangman. The two of you weren’t officially dating (as far as anyone knew) but the way you interacted was more than suspicious. Guys and girls could be friends, he wasn’t that naive, but the way Jake looked at you made him wonder if he wanted it to be more than that.

As for the way you looked at Jake, Bradley wouldn’t know much about that. He didn’t like watching you too closely when the two of you were together, just in case your smile or your eyes gave you away and confirmed his worst fear.

When you finally arrived at the bar you made sure to park as close to the entrance as possible in case your friends decided to get absolutely shit-faced. Agreeing to be the designated driver had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time - you’d be hangover free in the morning and able to enjoy your Sunday outdoors instead of in bed with a huge headache - but now, as Bradley slung his arm around your shoulder lazily and pulled you into his side, you were kind of wishing you’d let him drive. Ever the gentleman, he’d offered to bring the Bronco so you could have a drink, but since it was your idea and you were going to be subjecting him to country music and line dancing all night, it only seemed fair that he be able to have a few beers.

Now you somehow needed to get through tonight without any Dutch courage.

The bar was packed wall to wall with people in denim shorts, flannel shirts, cowboy boots and hats. Being from Texas yourself, you could tell who was just trying to fit the aesthetic and who actually dressed like that on the daily. Natasha and Bradley’s mouths were hanging open as they surveyed the scene in front of them. You’d given Nat one of your gambler hats to wear for the night and it suited her well, but you hadn’t been able to convince Bradley to wear one.

‘Bet you’re regretting turning down my offer now, huh Bradshaw,’ you poked him in the side and he flinched, laughing raucously, ‘Feeling like the odd one out?’

Jake moved the toothpick he was chewing from one side of his mouth to the other and adjusted his own hat, ‘He made the right call. There’s no way he’d be able to pull it off.’

Bradley swiped the hat from your head and put it on, adjusting it so it sat right on his head. Jake scoffed but he was smiling so you knew he wasn’t really trying to insult Bradley, but he flipped him the bird anyway. You stopped in your tracks to get a better look at him. He was wearing a blue flannel over a white tank, 501s and a pair of brown cowboy boots, and the hat was the icing on top of an incredibly delicious looking cake. The hat suited him better than it did you.

‘You’re such an asshole,’ you told him, nudging him in the ribs. He laughed again and shoved you playfully, ‘Can you stop fucking bullying me, Y/N. First you tell me I’m the odd one out, and now you’re calling me an asshole for trying to fit in.’ ‘You’re an asshole because that hat looks better on you than it does on me, and I’ve been wearing it since I was fifteen years old.’ Natasha and Jake shared a knowing look, ‘We’re gonna go get some drinks.’

One of your favourite Dustin Lynch songs was playing and to prevent things from getting awkward after what you’d just said (idiot, idiot, idiot) you took Bradley by the hand and led him out to the middle of the dancefloor. Perhaps ‘dancefloor’ wasn’t the right word since there were people dancing in every spare space in the bar. There wasn’t really anybody sitting at the hightop tables, they were just being used for bags, coats, and half empty glasses, and you were sure it was the same on the second floor. Although it didn’t feel like it, the place was huge and you were kicking yourself for not coming here sooner. Maybe it was a little cringe and slightly over the top (not every bar in Texas was like this) but it felt like you’d come home.

Bradley nearly tripped over your feet a couple times as you dragged him through the swarm of dancing people.

‘I can’t dance,’ he shouted. You spun around, still holding tightly onto his hand, ‘But you sing so well!’ ‘And?’ ‘Usually they go hand in hand.’ He cocked his head like you’d missed the point entirely, ‘You can dance?’ You flashed him your prettiest smile, ‘Obviously.’ ‘Then your logic is flawed,’ the corners of his mouth twitched as he repressed a smirk, ‘because you can’t sing for shit, darlin’.’ God, you wanted to kiss that look right off his face, ‘So you want me to teach you to dance, or what?’ ‘How do I know that what you got to teach is worth learning?’

Jake and Natasha appeared behind you with four bottles of beer. You accepted gratefully - because one wouldn’t hurt - and downed half of it in one long sip. Bradley didn’t take his eyes off you as you handed him your bottle and grabbed Jake’s hand.

‘I’ll show you.’

Bradley and Nat went and stood at one of the high tables, more than happy to watch you and Jake do your thing if it meant they got out of dancing for a little while longer. They were leaning casually, sipping their drinks with the air of two people that weren’t expecting much.

You leaned over and whispered to Jake: ‘Let’s show them how we do things back home.’

The song faded out, transitioning smoothly into another one. It was upbeat - perfect for line dancing - and you knew it well. Jake knew it too he was grinning from ear to ear as everyone moved into position, ready to dance.

It was now or never.

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d danced like this and you were worried you’d be rusty, but when the song kicked in and you got going it was like you’d never taken a day off. There was something almost sacred about dancing in formation with this many people and the sound of hundreds of pairs of cowboy boots stomping against the floorboards sent shivers down your spine. You hooked your fingers through the loops of your Levi shorts as you dragged one foot across the floor and pulled forward, swaying your hips all the way around in time with the music. When the song reached its bridge, everyone broke off into pairs and you and Jake took the opportunity to really show Nat and Bradley what you could do. You could hear Phoenix cheering for the two of you as you scooted and rambled, completely enthralled in the music.

You spent your days flying fighter jets, but this was the most alive you’d felt in a long time. Your heart was racing against your chest and you could feel a stitch developing in your side, but you honestly couldn’t care less and if you went into cardiac arrest right now, you wouldn’t be mad about it.

When the song was over you headed back over to your friends who were clapping for you, stunned expressions on their faces. Bradley handed you your beer and after catching your breath for a beat or two, you took a sip, your eyes never once leaving his.

‘So, you want what I got to teach or not?’ He shook his head in awe, ‘You’re really somethin’, you know that?’ ‘Oh, I know.’

You headed back out there with Bradley on your arm and Jake and Natasha in tow. Luckily they were fast learners so it only took an hour to teach them the basics and get them dancing relatively confidently. You were taking mental pictures of Bradley dancing the two-step in that damned hat so you could remember them later. He’d told you he couldn’t dance but you were beginning to think he’d just never tried because the way he moved was so enchanting, you had to keep reminding yourself not to trip over your own feet.

‘Shall we put your new dancing feet to the test?’ you said to him.

When ‘Fake ID’ came on you and Jake forced Bradley and Nat out to the very middle of the floor. It was your turn to cheer for them as the song started to pick up and everyone fell into line, boosting their confidence just enough for them to get into it. It didn’t take much and before long, the four of you were in perfect rhythm as you side-stepped and clapped, turned and cross shuffled. You’d never seen Bradley smile like that before and you desperately wanted to take a photo, but you didn’t dare stop dancing.

Why couldn’t you do this every night?

In the middle of the song, everyone broke off into pairs again and somehow you ended up with Jake. This clearly wasn’t part of the master plan to get you together.

‘You need to go get your man, Y/CS. I ain’t going home until you do.’

As nervous as you were to make your move, you knew he wasn’t kidding. You tapped Nat’s shoulder and leaned in to tell her that Jake wanted to dance with her. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what you were planning to do, and as she passed you mouthed ‘good luck.’

‘What’re you doing dancing with another woman when you’re wearing my hat,’ you teased, ‘That is so disrespectful.’ He raised a brow, ‘Well I wanted to be dancing with you, but you already chose Hangman as your partner,’ he challenged.

His tone was light but there was a question hidden somewhere in that statement; he wanted to know if you liked Jake.

‘I just didn’t know if you could keep up with me.’

In response to you challenging him, he started dancing again, reaching up to take off your hat and put it back where it belonged. You took his lead and started dancing in front of him and he reached out and put both hands on your hips as you swayed them, stepping forward until he was pressed right up against your back. You didn’t think you’d be able to carry on dancing if you got any closer, but then he did the unimaginable and looped his fingers through your belt loops and pulled you back so were flush against him. Black dots filled your vision when you felt his semi through his blue jeans and you couldn’t help but move a little more, shaking your hips and making him even harder.

He wasn’t expecting it, just like he wasn’t expecting you to spin around and wrap your arms around his neck. He was like a deer trapped in headlights as you pulled him down to your lips and finally kissed that shit-eating grin off his face, but when he eventually got over his initial shock, he kissed you back with such ferocity that you had to stop dancing. Nothing could have prepared you for the taste of Bradley Bradshaw, the scent of his aftershave mingling with sweat. If not for the room full of people you would have let him take you right there and then.

‘I think I’m gonna take you dancing more often, Rooster,’ you said against his lips, ‘you really know how to move.’ He kissed you again, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth and drawing a mewl from you. It was lucky nobody could hear the two of you over the music.

‘When we get back later, I’ll show you just how well I can move,’ he promised, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be able to dance for a while afterwards.’

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 2 (I've Got You Under My Skin)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,326

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: another night, another guest.

----------

The Paper Moon is open to all walks of life– every culture, creed, and color is welcome through the doors of your lounge. This is usually a happy truth, but these days you’ve been harboring a clockwork headache when that cab driver stops by.

He gives you the base courtesy of sticking to a schedule: around 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jake will waltz in on the heels of James Wesley and whatever company he has in tow. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Jake sits at the same back table while Mr. Wesley conducts his business. And every Tuesday and Thursday, you play nice as you check in on your patrons. Including the cabbie.

“Another stellar set, Ms. Songbird,” he lilts as you give a courtesy nod, brushing past his table in the hopes of keeping things brief.

“Thank you, Mr. Lockley.” Your voice is tense as you breeze by. Jake Lockley, you’d learned from the wait staff: the legal name for the thorn in your side.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind his presence as much if he didn’t insist on making it known every evening. You had learned to expect him in the crowd whenever you’d hear a high-pitched whistle ringing above the applause each night. The sound grates at your resolve and forces you to plaster on your stage-ready smile a bit longer every time you make your rounds.

“Hey Songbird,” he calls out after you. “Have a drink with me?”

“A drink at my own bar? How inspired.” You press your lips into a firm line, the rest of your face broadcasting your disinterest to no avail. Every week he asks; every week you say no.

“Suit yourself,” he sighs, always backing down but never taking his eyes off you. It’s one thing to be watched onstage; it’s another to feel his gaze on the ground level. You feel a bit of relief every time you see him walk out with his client, tipping his hat to you at the end of each evening. His smile remains undeterred, no matter how cold a shoulder you offer.

It’d be damn near charming if you trusted it.

----------

Today’s not the day to let your guard down, the unmarked letter in your hand reminds you as you pace around the backstage corridor. It’s the third of its kind you’ve received this month. You worry your lip between your teeth as you pour over its contents, even though you know them by heart.

“To whom it may concern….” “...property acquisition…” “...would be in your best interest…” “...other businesses under our care …”

“‘Our care,’ that’s rich,” you mutter. “Remind me to stop opening the mail during business hours…”

“Uh, okay?” Mauricio agrees hesitantly as he rounds the corner. “Was wondering where our ‘fifteen-minutes-to-curtain’ call was, but I see you've been busy.”

“Oh good golly, is that really the time?” You fumble to put the letter back in its envelope. “Haven't even finished my makeup…” you trail off as you head to your dressing room, your drummer right behind you.

When you open the door, you see a small bundle of flowers sitting on your side table. Oh for crying out loud.

“How many times do I have to–” you're muttering to yourself again as you take the flowers in hand, moving swiftly across the room.

"What are you doing?" Mauricio sputters.

"If that man thinks he can weasel into my good graces with a few pretty flowers-" you huff as you drop the bouquet in a wastebasket. "–he's going to be sorely disappointed."

"Those were– those were mine." Mauricio admits softly.

You freeze, turning to him. "Really?"

He scoops up the bouquet. "I wanted to surprise you. Guess I should've left a note," he chuckles.

"Oh, Maurie, thank you." You rush over to bring him into a hug. Sometimes he's too sweet for his own good.

".... This is from Mr. Lockley." Mauricio breaks away to hold out a single white rose he'd been hiding behind his back.

You sigh. "He's a persistent son of a gun, isn't he?"

He nods, dimpled smile growing by the second. “I think he's swell, miss. The boys think so, too.”

You turn the rose over in your hand. “I want you to be careful around him, Maurie. We don't know what he's about.”

“I think he's made it pretty clear,” he laughs.

“Hm. Perhaps.” You raise an eyebrow. "And I suppose you both brought flowers because...?"

Mauricio brims with excitement, taking the rose back and bundling it with the bouquet he'd gifted. "Mr. Lockley sounded real set on gettin’ you something sweet," he starts. He puts the flowers in an empty vase on your vanity.

"I didn't mean to steal his thunder, but I like it when you smile." He wipes his hands on the front of his pants and his expression drops a bit. "You haven't been smilin’ as much these days, Ms. Songbird."

You busy yourself with the fallen petals at your feet. “I smile all the time, what do you mean?”

“I guess I'm saying… there's you onstage, then there's, I dunno, you -you. They smile differently, s'all.”

He's right, as much as you hate to admit it. You look over at the flowers. “Well, thanks for giving me a reason to smile for real, Maurie.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “My mind's a bit out of sorts tonight. So thank you.”

The youth's dark brown eyes fill with concern. “Anything we can help you with?”

You shake your head, moving back to your vanity. “Nothing to worry yourself over, darling. Just make sure the boys are set. We have a show to put on.” 

He nods and leaves your dressing room. As you apply your lipstick, your hand trembles.

----------

Wednesdays have become your favorite part of the week: the day you catch your breath between visits.

In the time before the first half of your set, you make your usual rounds to each table.  Eventually you work your way to the front of the seating area, where you see a familiar silhouette beside the stage. A pair of dark glasses are perched on his nose, which crinkles as he smiles at the sound of your footsteps.

“Mr. Murdock,” you greet him warmly, taking his extended hand. “Always a pleasure.”

“Hey, kid.” He squeezes your hand in response, still beaming up at you. Even in the dimmed lounge, Matt Murdock’s smile can light up a room. 

“Come off it,” you huff in mock annoyance. “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice.”

“It sounded urgent, of course I’d be here. Do you have all the paperwork together?”

You eye the empty seat next to him. “I have a whole file waiting for you backstage… I’m sorry, is Franklin not joining you this evening?”

“Not tonight, but I do have another guest coming. Is that drink still on the house for a new plus-one?”

“Any friend of Nelson & Murdock is a friend of mine.” You brush a few stray hairs from his forehead. “Is this a guest for business or pleasure?”

He laughs, waving your hand away. “I suppose that depends.”

“Well, as long as they’re a fan of good music, they’re welcome here anytime,” you hum as you straighten his collar. “I swear, Matty. It wouldn’t kill you to dress to impress.”

“You dote too much. I’ll catch up with you later.” You leave him to his drink, making a mental note to demand his dress shirts for a routine tailoring.

The dinner rush brings the usual crowd, and you eye your friend’s table every so often. The seat beside him is still empty. You wonder if Matt was just pulling your leg and wanted to keep both complimentary drinks for himself.

But you don’t have time to ponder that. Instead, you scribble a few notes down and pass them out to your bandmates.

“Ah gee, boss, changing the setlist again?” Your pianist whines, scanning your notes. He didn’t ask tonight, but last-minute song requests are a longstanding favor to Matt when he has a lady to impress (which is often). For the sake of his mysterious guest, you swapped in some softer, more romantic pieces.

“Jackie, don’t tell me you’re not up to the task?” You eye him sternly. “Half the gig is improv anyway, and these are all songs we’ve done before.”

Jackie’s budding protest is silenced by the bassist via an elbow to the ribs. Arguing with you is never worth it: a lesson everyone learns sooner or later. Some take longer than others. 

Rubbing his side, Jackie concedes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

You wink. “That’s a tune I like to hear.” Smiling sweetly, you lead the band's procession to the stage.

“Good evening,” you croon into the microphone, “and welcome to The Paper Moon. I’m Ms. Songbird, this fine-feathered crew beside me are The Jays– let’s have some fun tonight.” You flash a rehearsed smile so dazzling it can be seen from the farthest table in the lounge, and you scan the room with anticipation. The moments before a performance are so precious; even with a setlist, anything can happen the moment that first note is played. Every night, you revel in the possibility. 

A familiar two-toned whistle draws your gaze to Matt’s table right below the stage, where the seat beside him is no longer empty.

Hat resting on the table, chin propped in his hands, you find yourself staring down at the face of none other than that infuriating cab driver bearing a grin so wide you hope it splits his cheeks.

Fighting to keep your smile from turning into a grimace, your eyes snap back to the middle of the room. “This first song goes out to one of our favorite patrons… and his company,” you add, your voice betraying your restraint with a crack. You don’t look down, but you just know that damned cabbie is smiling even harder.

Despite the rocky start, you and your band pull together another unforgettable night of music. You perform with your eyes closed more than usual; you refuse to give Jake Lockley the satisfaction of serenading him with your best love songs.

Once the music portion of the night is through, all the frustration you’d pushed down swiftly rises to the surface as you watch them pal around right under your nose. You rush to the floor level to get this over with.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt out, glancing between Jake and Matt. Your friend’s eyebrows raise at the outburst.

“Last I checked, this is a free country. I’m allowed into most businesses.”

“No, I mean– it’s not Thursday. You come on Thursdays.”

“Why Ms. Songbird, I didn’t think you cared enough to keep tabs on me.” He leans his head on his hand and stares up at you. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

You want so badly to snap back at him, but instead you look at Matt. “ This is who I changed our set list for?”

“In my defense, I never asked you to,” he grins.

“You didn’t tell me you were so familiar with our lovely hostess here, Murdock. Seems you have more pull with the house than you let on,” Jake muses in surprise.

“A privilege he’s bound to lose if he's not careful,” you say through gritted teeth. Like it or not, Jake is a guest. And you still have an image to uphold. “How’d you have the pleasure of running into this one, Matthew?”

He barely has time to respond before Jake's leaning in farther, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, chin up, doll– can’t say I’m too surprised he’s a friend of yours. Always has a knack for finding the pretty ones, this guy.” He nudges Matt’s side, who’s far too quiet for your liking.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” you huff.

“‘Course, I keep him around for that brain of his, not so much the mug.”

“He's my lawyer,” you say in unison. What makes your brow furrows leads Jake to bark out a laugh, shaking Matt in his grip as he tugs him closer.

“What are the odds of that, eh Murdock?” He beams up at you. Your frown deepens. “He's helped me with the occasional run-in with the law.”

“Oh, so you're not just a smart-mouth but a criminal, to boot?” 

“Nothing but a few civil suits, doll. Got off clean every time.” He winks as you cross your arms, glaring at Matt.

“You have interesting taste in company, Mr. Murdock.” You turn on your heel and head backstage.

“No kidding,” Jake continues to laugh as you walk away. Once you're out of sight, his smile falters. “So when you said you had a friend in show business–”

“Yeah.”

“And when I told you about the dame I've been eyeing at this new lounge–”

“–I knew exactly who you were talking about.”

“So you've been letting me parade around like a putz this whole time? ” A smack upside the head earns Jake a kick to the shin beneath the table.

“That, my friend, was all you. I mean bravo, you were in rare form tonight.” That signature smile returns as Jake pushes a hand through his hair. “I should probably go smooth some feathers. Catch up with you in an hour?”

Jake downs the rest of his drink and stands when Matt does. “You know I love our little talks.” Casting a final glance towards the stage door, he adjusts his jacket and moves from the table.

Matt catches his elbow. “She’ll come around.” He almost sounds convinced of it himself.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got other fish to fry tonight. Promise I’ll save you the big ones.”

Shaking his head, Matt makes his way backstage. “I’m starting to think some of that vitriol isn’t unearned.”

They part ways– Matt heading backstage, Jake to the moonlit streets. 

Bigger fish to fry, indeed: all swimming in the Kingpin’s tank. 

----------

A/N: thank you to everyone who has expressed enthusiasm over this little passion project!! it's been so fun putting it together, and i'm looking forward to sharing more with you. expect to see more of our favorite lawyer in the future (we have fun here)

as always, thank you for reading &lt;3

tag list: @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[hangmanbrainrot]

stranger from the bar

a/n: this is an incredibly late submission to @callsign-phoenix's 1k celebration. thank you for your patience, lovely. <3

warnings: 18+ content, this is mostly just... smut, there's an extensive list of tags on the ao3 page but there's some big emphasis on a rank kink here, exhibitionism, unprotected penetrative sex, lots of swearing, and alcohol mention.

word count: 3.1k

summary: in which you and jake do something a little different after a night out.

pairing: jake seresin x reader

“Jake, Jake, Jake,” you panted against his lips, palms shoving feebly against his chest. “Jake, wait. Are we sure this is a good idea?” 

You sat back slightly in your position on his lap, to take in his expression. Your gaze darted between his kiss swollen, lipgloss smeared lips and the depth of the green in his eyes. They looked almost grey in the low light of the parking lot.

“We stopped making good decisions after your third gin and tonic, I’m just pointing that out. But I’d never do anything you weren’t comfortable with, darlin’,” he hummed lowly, brows furrowed as his palms smoothed up and down the length of your goosebump covered thighs. Your hips pitched forward, rolling against his almost involuntarily, and you couldn’t tell if it was the sudden rush of desire flooding back to the surface or the chill in the air that made you shiver. Your shirt laid discarded in the passenger seat where you were once seated.

You looked back to Jake again. All traces of artifice were gone. There was no facade, no arrogance found in his expression. Instead, a strand of blond hair had fallen from its position in his perfect coif, and it curled lazily toward the top of his forehead. You ran your fingers through the sandy colored locks almost on impulse, and the moan you earned in response when you gave the strands a slight tug surprised you. Definitely filing that one away for later. Your mind — and his — was slipping in and out of your agreed upon charade so quickly. It was hard to pretend the man before you was a stranger, when part of the reason why you craved him so deeply was because of the plain and unashamed intimacy between you. You looked at him with a quirked brow, but before you could remark on your discovery, he cut you off with an utterance of your name. 

“So what's it gonna be?” He asked, voice low and husky. He shifted beneath you, and every delicious inch of him pressed into you, right where you needed him most, even with his pants between you — a move that was no doubt deliberate. Your lips returned to his, aggressive with need. His fingers snaked up into your hair, angling you where he wanted you — where he needed you. Jake was so deceptively confident that sometimes it was hard to imagine he’d ever needed another person in his life, but then every time he got his hands on you, he was like a man starved. His tongue was deft, first swiping along the seam of your lips, then parting them like a man depraved. With your knees bracketing his thighs, you didn’t have much space, but it was enough to work with to grind yourself down shamelessly against his denim-clad thigh. He could no doubt feel the wet heat of your core, every time you rutted down against the coarse material once more. It was relief, it was something. The body of your skirt flared around your thighs, but you’d ditched your underwear long ago, so your arousal threatened to soak his pant leg beneath you if you weren’t careful.

“Jake,” you repeated in a shaky exhale, moving like a person possessed, with your head thrown back. You couldn’t stop the near incessant motion of your hips if you tried, desperate for friction, desperate for him, especially as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. He had you tightrope walking that line between pleasure and pain, tongue laving over the skin his teeth had grazed just seconds earlier.

“You keep saying my name like that, I don’t know if I’ll even get you out of that pretty little skirt before we’re making a mess,” he said the words like a promise, whispered against the warmth of your flushed skin as he kissed his way up your chest.

So suddenly it almost hurt, Jake retracted and righted himself to look up at you, as if he realized something, and you whined in response — impulsively, instinctively. But you caught his eyes, and you understood. One of his hands raised to cup your face and the gold of his wedding band caught the light in the process. The pad of his thumb brushed softly along your skin, so softly you were almost ashamed of the way you were still writhing in his lap. Almost. He tapped your cheek three times in a row, and you instantly came back to yourself. This was a check-in. This was your husband.

“Color?” you asked as you went still in his lap.

“No, I’m green, so, so very green,” he said gently, almost shy, even as a chuckle bubbled up out of him. “But you didn’t answer me, and you said wait before, but I realized I didn’t wait, then you said my name so I felt bad and wanted to be sure.”

Oh, this man loved you. He loved you, loved you. And you knew it, of course, but feeling it right now in the soft, gentle cadence of his words, in the way he was studying you for even the slightest change in mood or disposition? It had you clenching around nothing, needy as your hands fisted in the fabric of the plain black t-shirt he wore. You used your newfound hold on him to all but yank him flush against your bare chest.

“Honey,” your lips pressed softly to the hollow behind his ear, delicate, as you murmured, “I am so sorry I worried you, but I am so fucking green.” 

Sitting back again, you took in your husband, your hands reaching up to frame his face as you explained, “I only said wait because I was, uh, getting into it, you know?”

More realization washed over his expression and even in the barely there moonlight, you knew his face was red — more because of your knowledge of your Jake, than your reliance on your eyes.

“You called me Jake. Twice.” He was practically pouting as he repeated the fact. You’d broken character. The feigned anonymity was, admittedly, part of what made your designed ruse so fucking attractive. 

“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, Lieutenant.” 

Just like that, your husband was gone, and in his place sat Lieutenant Seresin. 

“I know it won’t.”

White hot desire lanced through you, and you forgot all rational fucking thought, practically crumbling against him, but he drew you up again, until your chest was flush against his own. Your taut nipples brushed against the soft, though slightly worn cotton fabric of his shirt. The sensation was heady and overwhelming, barely on this side of just enough. Your moan was clumsy and unabashed when it fled past your parted lips. 

Jake sneered at the noise, lip curled in what you knew to be feigned disgust when he spoke to you. “You can’t even help yourself can you, little one?”

His hand pressed against your lower back, forcing you closer against him, and the same pleasure rocketed through you as your sensitive skin connected with his clothing once more. Your hips resumed their previous rhythm, thighs tightening around Jake’s own to attempt to assert some semblance of control over the erratic movements of your body.

“N-no, Lieutenant,” you panted, stammering through the syllables. 

You might’ve had enough shame to be embarrassed by your own whimpering, if Jake hadn’t started to flex and tense the thigh you were currently rutting against within an inch of your life. 

“Well, go on then, take what you need.”

Despite the fact that you had a slight height advantage from being seated in his lap, Jake was practically scowling at you in a way that made you feel deliciously small. He sat back in the reclined driver’s seat almost lazily, short of the tension he was maintaining in his leg for your benefit. But even as you moved, you didn’t have nearly enough space, and you were sure you’d have bruises from where you’d leaned back against the steering wheel. The whine you released was downright guttural — part need, part exasperation. You hadn’t even realized you’d shut your eyes until you had to open them to look down at Jake, when he let out a downright cruel chuckle. He already knew.

“What’s the matter, hm?” Both of his hands rested at the top of your legs, squeezing the supple flesh where your hips met your thighs — one of his favorite places to feel you. He used the hold to still you. “Use your words or you get nothing.” 

“Need you, please,” you practically chanted, your aching muscles propelling you against reason, struggling against Jake’s hold. “Need you s’bad.”

Your words were practically slurring, but you didn’t care. In preparation for tonight, you and Jake had abstained for a little while, so you were already well past ‘overstimulated.’

“Didn’t I tell you to take what you need?” A large palm closed around your throat, applying only nominal pressure — just enough to focus you — before he continued. “So why aren’t you? Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

The smirk rested upon his lips told you that Jake knew exactly what your problem was; he just reveled in hearing you say it.

“Not enough,” you whined when he eased the pressure, thighs tightening in their positions bracketed around him. “Need you to fuck me, Lieutenant.” 

“Sweetheart,” he purred, head lowering to drop teasingly delicate kisses along the line of your shoulder. You didn’t miss the way he shifted beneath you, as much as your weight would allow. His slacks were drawn so tightly across his body, you were fairly certain that if you’d had the presence of mind to look down, you’d have seen his cock twitch. “You hardly know me. Plus, there’s not nearly enough room in this car.”

You knew what he was getting at, knew how desperately he practically daydreamed about fucking you bent over the back of his car — outside, where any and everyone could hear and see you. It was why you’d gone to a bar just outside of your normal stomping grounds. You were less likely to run into anyone you knew, and it felt like a fair but necessary compromise to allow your husband to live out his fantasy. Except now he wanted you to beg for it. 

“Please, Lieutenant, please,” you babbled, remembering to lean in to the role you were meant to be playing. “I, I don’t normally do this either, but please. I don’t even care if, if…”

Your pleading was clumsy, but if Jake had noticed, he hadn’t commented on it. Instead, he’d opened the car door on his side and ordered you to get out. When you reached for your shirt, to guard against the late night chill, he delivered a sharp smack against your cheek. It was a limit you’d previously agreed upon, but what you hadn’t expected was the primal way you moaned in response.

God, you were his. You were so fucking his. 

He got out of the car once you were steady on your feet, and before you could reach for him, he’d spun you around, pressing into you until you were bent over the trunk of the car you’d rented for your little expedition. Your eyes skimmed the parking lot — not crowded but certainly not empty, either. The perfect amount of risk.

“Color, sweetheart,” he said softly, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“Green, bright fucking green,” the words hissed through gritted teeth, as you struggled to push back against his hips. The erection currently straining behind his jeans felt like a fucking punishment. You’d do anything to see him, get your hands on him, and — 

“Wrists,” he barked, clearly settling right back into character.

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” 

You knew Jake loved that you could dish it as well as you could take it, but the sharp smack he delivered your ass let you know that Lieutenant Seresin was not a fan. You yelped, upper half pressing closer into the car. Your nipples went taut against the metal, practically stinging from how cold it was. You couldn’t decide if the sensation was too much or not enough, before Jake was repeating himself — something he hated to do.

“I said wrists.”

“But Lieutenant, what if someone sees us?” You were probably laying it on thick, and while you knew Jake was too far gone to make fun of you for it, you wanted to hear the delirium creep into his voice; to know how absolutely fucking wrecked he was, and how very much your doing it was. Because while you were very much his, he was also very much yours. 

You heard the familiar sound of his belt and zipper, and then he was shoving up your skirt and using your own weight against you to press you tighter against the car. The anticipation was as delicious as it was agonizing. You wriggled your hips, just to do something, just to tease, and then — 

Jake groaned behind you as he began slowly splitting you open, pressing into you at a rate that was dizzying — both too soon and not quick enough; you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or less. The promise of that frenzied push and pull of him inside of you, hips stuttering with need. You were insatiable for what you already had. One of his palms collected both of your wrists in his grasp, pinning them together at the base of your back; the newfound tension in your shoulders, as infuriating as it was, only worsened the ache that resided deep in your belly. With his other hand now carefully coiled around the nape of your neck, Jake pressed your cheek against the back of the car with so much force, you struggled to keep your toes pressed into the pavement for balance. Even the brush of your bunched skirt at the top of your hips felt like too much; you were an exposed nerve, you felt turned inside out from the intensity of the pleasure licking up through your insides like flames.

And you were babbling, a short chorus of “oh fuck”’s and “right there”’s, when Jake finally spoke again: “Look at you, takin’ me s’good. Wish you could see, doll. Y’look like a fuckin’ dream.” 

Jake would’ve sounded sleazy if he was anybody else, accent pouring out thick over words practically hissed out through gritted teeth — but he was so fuckin’ smooth. You wanted to rile him up, too, to beat him at his own game, when you heard noise coming from the far side of the parking lot. For a moment, Jake stuttered behind you; clearly not expecting the sound, either. It was the brief pause in his movements that allowed your mind mere moments to clear, to process, to fight through the haze. Above, or perhaps through the sound of your husband’s soft pants, you could hear two people chatting quietly; they’d likely stepped out of the bar for a smoke.  

“Wh-what if they hear us?” You managed to mumble convincingly, though you were delighted by the thought, as was evident by the shiver racking your body. 

“Let them.” The words were a near snarl, sending more hot, unrelenting waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your upper half sagged against the back of the car, mouth fallen open in a silent expression of pleasure. 

Behind you, Jake released his hold the nape of your neck, only for his fingers to twist in your hair to wrench your body upright. “Didn’t I just say let them hear you?” 

“S-sorry, Lieutenant,” you practically wailed, the sound unfiltered and needy — you knew what was coming next, and apparently so did Jake. Immediately, you felt a warm palm smothering your lips, to stifle the second, much louder noise that left your mouth as the knots coiled up within you finally snapped and unwound, and the orgasm rocketed through you. Your vision went white, and all sound faded away. Vaguely, you were aware of Jake, your Jake behind you, and the soft, slightly strangled noise he made when he finished, but you were too busy loitering in that in between feeling, part floating back down to your body, part tingling all over.

When the ringing in your ears subsided and you felt like you could finally hold your eyes open, you clued into Jake’s voice, whispering your name hurriedly. You could hear the sound of his zipper, the buckle of his belt, he was rushing. And then he was spinning you around, eyes searching your expression worriedly while he busied himself with fixing your skirt. It was then that you realized you were crying, or you had been, fat tears dribbling down your face as you sagged against the car.

With his shirt wrinkled and the flush of a fresh orgasm, Jake looked absolutely stunning, even in the low light — and you hated him for it. He framed your face in his hands, both thumbs capturing the stray tears as he heaved out a sigh. 

“You went so quiet on me,” he mumbled out softly, “I thought, I…”

You could only shake your head, then gripping both sides of his shirt to drag his warm frame toward you. His arms encircled you almost immediately, one palm smoothing up and down the length of your back while the other cradled the back of your head, where you were curled into your chest. You weren’t sure how long you remained that way, wrapped in his embrace, but it felt like centuries later that he broached the silence again. 

“So, I don’t know how much they saw, but those people from earlier definitely saw something. I think we should get going, babe.” In response to this, you whined and pressed tighter against your husband, your bare chest pressing against his, as if you could somehow get any closer. At this, he only chuckled, freeing a hand to open the back door to the car. It was a little awkward for him to move and bend, with you wrapped around him for dear life, but his hand reappeared a moment later with the sweatshirt he’d stashed back there for you. Before Jake had even gotten to work pulling the cotton material over your head, you knew it would smell of his cologne. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said softly, his expression downright fond. Even as his arms dropped from you, his hand found yours almost instantly, to lead you to the passenger’s side of the car.

“Bath time?” you questioned, finally finding your voice again. 

“Bath time,” he repeated with a smile, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he helped you settle into your seat.