#Runway Dresses for Rent

[smallboyonherbike]

for context it will be a september beach wedding with indoor reception so i'm going for not too hot but protecting shoulders from the sun

[oakfern]

guys i look so hot rn. i hope i get a good picture of my outfit later bc everyone deserves to see. i'm wearing this btw (without the big puffy thing)

[queers-gambit]

My Date With the President's Daughter

part one: Blue Bunny

prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 6.3k+

note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?

warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.

The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.

Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.

You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.

Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.

Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.

The gala was crowded. Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on. Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.

The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.

By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.

The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.

You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.

With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.

"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.

"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"

He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"

"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."

Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"

You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."

He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"

"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"

"Daddy won't be mad?"

"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.

The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.

"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "

"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"

"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."

"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."

"Of course," she rushed.

"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."

Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.

After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.

"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.

"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.

"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."

"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"

"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."

"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."

"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."

"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."

"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."

"Can't tell me you're not tempted."

Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."

"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."

"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."

"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.

Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.

You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.

He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."

"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.

"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"

You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.

"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.

"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "

"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.

"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."

"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "

"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "

In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."

You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"

You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.

"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"

"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.

"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.

"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "

"The fuck are you - "

"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"

"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."

He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."

"Daddy - "

"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."

"I'm not yours to command - "

"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "

"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.

"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "

"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "

"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "

"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.

"That so?"

Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."

"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."

"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.

"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "

He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.

"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.

"Bruv!"

"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.

"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.

"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "

"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.

"Lem!"

"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.

Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.

You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.

There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.

You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.

However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."

"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"

"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"

"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"

Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "

But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"

The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!

Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.

"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.

"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.

"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"

Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.

"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.

"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.

"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"

You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.

"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "

Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.

Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.

Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.

You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.

"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.

"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"

"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."

"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."

"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."

You sniffled, "You seen my family?"

"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."

Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"

"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."

"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."

"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.

"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.

"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."

"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."

"I understand, sir."

"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."

"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."

Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."

"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."

"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."

You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.

"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."

"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."

Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't make me regret this."

"Not in this lifetime, sir."

"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."

After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.

In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.

When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.

In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."

"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."

"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."

"I-I'm glad you were here."

He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."

"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."

"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"

"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"

"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, Bunny. 'S been a helluva night."

Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-1

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 2

Your feet hurt, throbbing in your worn-out sneakers that you’ve owned since your first day at university. Your legs feel like jelly, and not in the good way, in the way where the back of your knees hurt, and the earth’s gravitational pull seems to be so much stronger. You feel like you’re being cooked like the way you’re preparing your sauce. Boiling, bubbling.  

The sweat gathers at the brim of your chef’s hat and the back of your neck. The head chef is screaming at you, again, like he always does. You swear that he gets some sick thrill out of yelling at one. Forcing you to do 15 tasks all at once, while telling you just how horribly you’re doing all of them. Not only that, but you feel like you must think for the other four cooks you work with. 

How you’re not used to it yet, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not cut out for the industry, but you refuse to think of it. That would be your life’s dream down the drain. Not only that but, 20 000 euros down the drain. “Y/N, *il nous faut la sauce pour le jarret d'agneau!” Again, that damn head chef calls and you can feel your frustration burning in the back of your eyes. *We need the sauce for the lamb shank! 

“*J'apporte ta foutue sauce maintenant!” You can’t help but let your anger bubble out. You give the sauce for the cook preparing the lamb, ignoring the fiery glare of the head-chef. “**Je prends ma pause.” You say, throwing your hat and apron on my station, once again ignoring your boss’ threats. You throw the door open, sighing in relief at the fresh air. *I'm bringing your damn sauce now **I’m taking my break.  

You sigh, sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, leaning against the old brick wall. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, take one out, light it and take a deep pull. And as you sit, you can’t but groan as you read the invoice for your rent. You’d been so good on your bills, but then you got sick, again, then the bills started piling up.  

“Fucking hell...” You mutter, rubbing your temples in annoyance. You get a message from your mom, asking how you are and when you’re coming to visit. You avoid it, you can’t face her. Your family all believe you to be this fancy five-star-chef, making it big in the capital of France. You don’t have the guts to tell them of your failure. Or the fact that you’re sitting on a dirty floor, after being verbally abused all day.  

When you were little, you imagined being a princess in a big castle. With lots of gowns and jewels and shoes. You’d use your mom’s old dresses and put on a show. Whenever you’d get hand-me-downs or the new outfit once a year you’d put on a whole show. When people would ask what you want to be when you grow up, you’d always say a model.  

When you got older, late teenage years, you, of course, had to think of something more realistic. And with chef-ing having the easiest job to find and the easiest degree to get, you chose it. Now, you regret it more than anything. Your dreams have been sucked dry and aspirations have little left. At home, you spend your time scrolling through the vogue Instagram, dreaming of the day that someone can do all this adulting for you.  

Out of nowhere, a loud scream is heard. You snap your head up to the direction it came from, after watching the newest runway from Versace. Suddenly a man come barrelling down the alleyway. He keeps glancing over his shoulder in panic and almost fear. His skin is a golden tan colour, and his beautiful dark hair flies as he speeds down the alleyway. He looks ready to to climb into a nearby dumpster before he spots you.  

He seems beyond relieved to see you. And then another scream is heard, and his expression becomes one of alarm. “J'ai besoin...uh...help?” His French is sloppy and mixed with English. But his accent is not one of an American. You cross your arms and lift your brow. “Aide?” You translate his words for him. He nods, glancing to the alleyway entrance again. “Si, si-” very much not French. “Now. Uh...” Then another scream and his urgency grows. “I speak English.” 

This news gives him a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Dios.” He mutters and then his relief turns again to imperativeness. “You to hide me. Now. I can’t tell you why. But you need to hide me. Now. Uh-please.” His dark brown eyes seem frantic, and his accent sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never met someone with this accent, in your whole 23 years of life and something about this intrigues you.

“And why should I, for all I know you could’ve just killed someone!” You reply, standing up and stomping your cigarette out. And yet your firm stand buckles when he gives these big brown eyes, which are filled with fear. “I’ll pay.” Your expression changes almost instantly. At this point you’re ready to do just about anything to get the insurance off your back.  

“Yeah? You like that, cosa bonita? How much, pretty girl?” Then he pulls out his wallet and takes out a stack of hundred-euro bills. “You name the price, doll face. Here, two hundred? But please be quick with your decision.” Never before have you had this opportunity to make money this quickly. And you need to money now more than ever. How can you say no? What’s the harm? If he was a criminal, he would’ve hurt you by now, right? You don’t mutter a word.  

Not to mention the way he uses the pet names don’t seem gross. He’s charismatic, so much so that you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your ears. Not only that but his smile seems almost comforting. Like you could trust him with your drink in a busy club. How far are you willing to go to pay your bills? You grab his warm hand, with the money in, and shove the both of you through the back door.  

“*Je suis malade. Je prends le reste de la journée.” You call out, shoving your chef’s jacket and the rest of your work attire into your bag, all with the man still trailing behind you. “I do like it when a pretty girl like you speaks French. I must thank you, not many girls would usually do something like this.” Suddenly his worried nature turns into a more welcoming, flirty one. *I'm sick. I'm taking the rest of the day off. 

It’s rare that you’re called pretty by an utter stranger. Frozen in place as you stare up at the handsome stow-away. “Where is he?” It’s the same girlish voice as before, the slightly above standard’s restaurant doors slam open. “I must say though, my French isn’t very good. I’m sure you noticed. But I do hope you were telling your manager that we are leaving, no?” He asks and this time blush creeps from your cheeks all the way to your ears.  

“Uh- yes- something like that. Come, we’ll hide in the worker’s bathroom.” You stammer your way through your sentence. Though you regret it the moment you close the bathroom stall. It’s small and barely above regulations, this place is cheap on their worker rights. His chest is pressed up right against yours. His body is so warm, like a nice fire in a winter cabin.  

You know if you were cuddle with him in the cold snowy months, you wouldn’t even need a heater or warm socks. Wait, why are you thinking this? You’ve just met the man! Now you’re already thinking of burrowing yourself closer to him. His big hands stabilize themselves on your waist, trying not to topple over you. And you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, hoping the handsome man won’t notice.  

At the same time, you wish your hair isn’t tied up, so that you could hide behind that piercing gaze. Especially now that your bodies are pressed against each other in the small bathroom stall. Your hands grow clammy, and you can feel that his eyes are trying to catch yours. Trying to see more of your face and you’re merely hoping the earth would swallow you whole. Feeling inferior to be admired by a man with such heat.   

“I knew coming to France would be fun, but I didn’t expect being so close to such a pretty girl.” He seems entirely too big for the little stall and now you wish they had aircons that the American’s talk about. You too are forced to also steady yourself on his big, hard chest. Those dark unruly brows furrow. “Why are you so quiet now? Earlier you were quite happy to talk, no?” 

Now you’re really blushing. “I assume when you someone like you, pays someone like me, you expect them to keep quiet.” You say avoiding his gaze, this seems to aggravate him. He takes you by the chin and forces you to look at him. His gaze softens when you look up at him through your lashes. But your legs feel like jelly when staring into those chocolate brown eyes.  

“Someone like you? Someone like me? You should watch what you say.” Those dark golden eyes seem to stare right through your insecurities. “Why is that?” His words cause a spark in your mind, you’ve always been jealous of the rich ones. Not only that but the way they look down on you. This causes a smirk on his face, “So the mouse does speak?” You scoff at his words and start staring him down.  

“The mouse does speak, and she’d love to ask why on earth she’s hiding with you in a bathroom stall?” His jaw snaps at your words and this time he looks away. “If I tell you, you might just be another person I need to hide from.” This time it’s your turn to laugh. “Tell me now, or I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He snaps down to look you in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t dare.” You smirk, “Watch me.”  

His hand snaps up and then falls to his side again. Your heart is racing, it’s unlike you to be so daring or disobedient. But something about him makes you feel bold and confident. “Alright, niñita, tell me do you know about the Tifosi?” He asks, mixing his language in between and you can’t help but want to beg to know what he’s calling you 

You shake your head no. “Alright, what about Formula 1?” Again, you shake my head no. He sighs and rubs his head. “Let’s just say I have a few loco, um, crazy fans.” You laugh, full on head back laughing. “Really? You paid me two-hundred euros to hide with you in a bathroom because you have some passionate fans.” Your eyes are twinkling with delight.  

“No, no, no, niñita, you don’t understand. They had scissors! They wanted a piece of my hair!” This causes a flash of fears in his eyes, and he subconsciously rakes his fingers through his luxurious dark hair. You shrug and lift your hand, wiping a strand from his forehead. “I can see why.” It goes quiet then and the both of you can’t help but notice the screaming has died down.  

“Well, if you’d ever like to know more about someone like me-” He sends you a wink and then grabs your phone from your back pocket. He shows you the lock screen and you roll your eyes but give in and open the phone. He puts in his number, adding a chili next to his name. ‘Carlos Sainz 🌶️’  

 You frown, “What’s the chili stand for?” Once more, he winks. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. And here-” he pulls out his wallet and hands you another hundred, “-for the trouble.” You blush again and shake your head. You hesitate, eyeing the money, biting the inside of your cheek, churning over if you should take it or not.  

It’s been the first time that you’ve laughed in weeks. Not to mention the previous money already helps so much. “Tan testarudo que ya lo puedo ver. Está bien, me gusta un poco de coraje en mi chica.” He scoffs and shoves the bill in the back pocket of your jeans. “I think they’re gone now, I’ve got to go, I’m sure my manager is looking for me.” He says after his rant in the language I don’t understand.  

He unlocks the bathroom stall door, and clatters out, yet somehow makes it look so hot. You escort him out of the restaurant and find yourself staring at him on the sidewalk of Paris. You can’t but remember, when he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you, that this is the city of love. Again, he steps up close, feeling his hot breath on your forehead. He’s six inches taller than you, he’s looming.  

As if thirty minutes ago are happening again. He’s quiet and contemplative. His sweet, cocky attitude turns dark suddenly. His warm, rough hands gently caress your cheek. “I’m only in Paris for one more week, before I’m off to the Netherlands. If you don’t message me, I’ll make sure to see you again.” He looks so serious, so much so that your stomach turns slightly.  

“Wouldn’t that be going a bit fast? Seeing me at my work a week after we met?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes turn slightly darker and yet he smirks. “I like a fast pace.” As if he’s a villain in a bond movie, a bright black SUV pulls up next to him. “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be better for the both of us. I don’t want the world to know about you just yet.”  

His wink sends shivers down your spine. He then takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. “I will see you again, muñequita.” He then slides into the back of the SUV; his gaze makes your core warm. And when he rides away you can’t help but lean against a close-by streetlamp. Your legs feel like Jello.  

[uncanny-tranny]

Something that bothers me a bit about Americans talking about The Golden Age of the economy is... It wasn't a golden age, not for everyone.

People seem to universalize the fact that you could afford college and rent when... That was true for specific people. It wasn't the universal - especially those who were Black, or Indigenous, or for PoC in general, or women, or queer and trans people. Universalizing any stage of America's history only tells one story. You don't acknowledge the stories of anyone else when you do this.

This just reminds me of Paris Is Burning, and of what was said about the ballroom participates, many of whom were BIPoC and/or queer:

[Video Description: A clip from the documentary Paris Is Burning (1990). Pepper LaBeija is sitting on a chair and she is saying:

Those balls are, more or less, like our fantasy of being a superstar, you know like the Oscars or whatever. Or being on a runway as a model. You know, a lot of those kids that are in the balls, they don't have two of nothing. Some of them don't even eat. They come to balls starving, and they sleep in the under twenty-one, or they sleep on the pier or whatever. They don't have a home to go to, but they'll go out and they'll steal something and get dressed up and come to a ball for that one night and live the fantasy.

/End of Video Description]

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Odin, Poseidon, beelzebub, Hades & our beloved sassy queen loki GETTING THEIR NAILS PAINTED AND THEIR HAIR STYLED BY THEIR LITTLE GIRLY DAUGHTER JDKSJDNSJJS separate for each one ☝️

that is the request, hpn !!!! ❤️🩷

-You adored your present from your papa for Christmas, a salon set, where you could do your hair, nails, and put little stickered jewels on your face. Perfect for a dress up fanatic like you!

-You adored the gift, leaping into your papa’s arms when you unwrapped it, completely overjoyed, much to his own delight- he loved seeing you happy.

-He watched you play at the salon set before rushing to your dress up closet, filled with all sorts of costumes and accessories, coming out and giving him a fashion show.

-Of course, he gassed you up- treating you like how you should always be treated and to not accept anything else, beaming as he clapped for you.

-However, he was dreading that fateful question which only took three days for you to ask, “Papa- can I give you a makeover too?”

-Odin- To make you happy, he agreed, within reason. He let you brush his hair and beard and put at least a couple of bows and clips into them. He wouldn’t let you put any make up or jewels onto his face, but he did placate you by allowing you to paint his nails. You had a surprisingly steady hand, and his nails were painted very evenly. You couldn’t help but beam brightly up at him, “Thank you papa! This is so much fun!” He stroked your hair gently as you put a bowtie on both Muninn and Huginn, as they wanted to be fancy as well.

-Poseidon- Seeing your bright pleading eyes and adorable smile, he couldn’t resist you, allowing you to paint his nails at least, but did request that you use blue tones only. He didn’t say that you only had to use one blue tone~ By the time you finished, each of his nails were a different shade of blue! His eyelid twitched slightly, seeing the rainbow of blue, all of them neatly done before he felt a smile appearing, seeing one jewel on his pinkie fingers, “Those are so you can be extra fancy!” he chuckled softly, pulling you up into his arms, hugging you close, “I love them- thank you Y/N.” your smile made it all worthwhile.

-Beelzebub- Would proudly wear the bows and hairclips in his hair that you gave him, wouldn’t care in the slightest and if anyone dared say anything, he wouldn’t hesitate to scare them- to put them in their place. Your happiness was his number one priority and if you wanted to play dress up and wanted him to play with you- he would gladly sit there and let you paint his nails. He was surprised the first time he let you paint them, as your hand was so steady- his nails looked like a professional had done them! He couldn’t help but beam, seeing that you were a natural genius!

-Hades- If you want to dress up fancy and go out with Papa on a daddy/daughter date, he is whipping out his best suit so the both of you look your best! He portrays a mature vibe to all others, but to you, everyone could easily see how childish he could be- just to make you happy. You would paint his nails and he would teach out how to color coordinate, so if he was wearing a certain color, he would tell you what colors fit the best and let you paint them to your heart’s content. He then would paint your nails so you would both match!

-Loki- If you want to do a fashion show, he has spotlights and the runway ready for you, several cameras ready so he can capture all your adorableness! If you want him to play dress up with you, he is instantly in his closet, or allowing you to drag him to your dress up closet, and he is getting ready to walk that runway like rent is due tomorrow!! Loki adores playing with you, if you want to give him a makeover, he will let you do as you please, then he will do it to you, putting your hair up, painting your nails, and just having fun with you. Loki teaches you all about color coordinating and becoming a true fashion icon and he will be right by your side, holding you in his arms, wearing matching outfits as you both dazzle anyone who sees the two of you.

[lovethetasteofnothing]

Hi I seen ur requests are open so I wondering if you could possibly write sugar mommy hcs for Farah and/or valeria plz!😋

this is so good I just had to do it asap. i need drabbles for this too

Sugar mommy dynamics (HCs) - Valeria, Farah, Laswell

includes: kate laswell, farah karim, valeria garza (this is for the gay girls)

fem!reader, female anatomy, fem terms of endearment

warnings: nsfw content, dirty talk, spanking, use of straps/toys, fingering, degradation, consumption of alcohol,

word count: 1.8k, aprox. 600 words/ character

Valeria Garza (smut + fluff)

sugar mommy supreme

this woman is richer than god and her love language is gift giving

i don't see a better combo for a sugar baby

and she's a busy woman, she doesn't have time for relationships so this is right up her alley

i feel like it happened a little more or less by chance

like she was just talking about it one day to one of her men or he overheard her

and he subtly mentioned you because you were actively looking for a sugar mommy

neither of you knew what to expect at first, but after meeting her...

you went home and masturbated to a scenario about her

you were both on board with it being sexual from the get go so that worked out

makes you update a wishlist regularly and buys everything you put on it

sometimes you'd put an item there at night and wake up with the package at your door the next day

her card? black like her soul

and she just handed it to you one day like?

made you do a little runway show with all of the stuff you got with it

goes shopping with you to de-stress

she likes it more than you do, like this woman is making you try everything in the store if she wants to

makes you twirl so she can see the full outfit before smirking and nodding approvingly

holds the clothes for you while you're inside the store so you can browse easily

her guard carries the bags afterwards

this woman buys you designer on the regular

even though she doesn't wear it herself because it gets ruined on the job, she loves it on you

she took you to a fancy dinner with her business partners once

put you in a dress that costs more than your whole apartment (and a set of really nice lingerie underneath)

she made you cum all over the expensive fabric, squirming while she fingered you in the backseat of her car

"you're being so filthy, muñequita. por Dios, you even ruined your dress"

spanked you for being so "inconsiderate" even though it was her fault that you had a pool of cum dripping down your thighs

talking about spanking, she definitely spanks you with designer belts

like this woman does not care how much it costs

that piece of leather can pay off your rent for months

she'd probably pay off your student loans/ pay in advance for your rent and utilities

gives you a weekly allowance, sometimes buys you extra stuff if you've been good

her favorite thing to buy for you? lingerie and sex toys

makes you send her videos of you wearing them/using them on yourself

talking about texting, I think she'd leave you be most of the time since she's so busy

also enjoys the fact that you're a bare minimum engagement type of deal

she's just happy someone isn't pestering her 24/7, while she gets the advantages of making a girl squirt happy

she's constantly traveling and you don't see her for weeks sometimes

you asked her what she does because you got curious

"don't worry your pretty little head with useless details, cariño"

but she expects you to show up when she tells you to

on time, god forbid you're late

she had to wait for five minutes, you had to listen to her complain for hours

while her favorite strap stretched you out so good

makes you apologize and beg for forgiveness, promise you won't be late again

while bullying her strap into your already sensitive pussy, crying from the overstimulation as you whimper out promises and pathetic 'sorrys'

Farah Karim (fluff, i love Farah fluff okay?)

you still don't understand how it happened

like one day she was the cute regular customer at the coffee shop you worked at

and the next she was taking care of your rent and restocking your fridge

she just wanted to help you out since she had more than enough for herself

you didn't expect her to be that rich? because when she was a customer she was always dressed normal

don't get me wrong, she looked bomb, but she never gave off that 'i'm rich, look at me' energy

and she still doesn't, literally buys you the cutest stuff out of the kindness of her heart

keeps it casual, doesn't expect you to pay her back in any way

she can't help but smile when you kiss her cheek as a thank you after she hands you your allowance

doesn't want to pressure you into anything, she just likes the idea of taking care of someone

doordashes groceries for you because she knows you're too lazy to do them yourself

checks up on you every once in a while, mostly asks you to come over to keep her company and just chat

but you were renovating your apartament for a few days and you decided to stay with her

made sure you were nice and comfortable in the guest room and got everything you needed

also made sure to leave a few little gifts on your bed on your first day

got you some books and your favorite treats to keep you company while she's gone to work

and you realized you actually liked spending time with her and that her attention made you happy

so when she got home from work, two days before you were meant to leave you decided to speed things up a little

so surprised when you straddled her lap while she was talking

she thought you felt pressured to do it

she tried to start one of her monologues before you stopped her

you got so bold??? like just telling her you like her and it's not because she practically is your main source of income but because she's so nice as a person

baby got so touched she had to go smoke a cig to calm down

and now she's your girlfriend and sugar mommy

weekly dates (as long as she's not gone with work, makes up for it when she's back tho) to your favorite restaurants/locations in general

hates physical shopping but will power through for you

grabs whatever she thinks you'd look cute in and makes you try it

you got so so flustered when she gave you a revealing outfit to try on

she had already bought it in her head before you even tried it on

also loves to spoil you with little things

like getting you gorgeous flowers every week, making sure they're replaced before they wilt

ordering your favorite food for you when she works long nights

buying you the nicest skincare/makeup because she sees how your face lights up from it

i feel like she'd always bring a trinket home (uhaul lesbian things)

something that melts your heart too because she really pays attention to everything you say

like getting a box of pastries from that really luxurious bakery that's close to her office

buying you a new pair of sneakers because they match the outfit she got you last week

literally bought you a stunning outfit for your one year anniversary

dress, heels, jewelery everything designer because fuck it she loves spoiling you rotten

money comes on her card and leaves it, but you're a forever type of investment

Kate Laswell (fluff + smut)

canon mommy

also a sugar baby's dream

she paid for your drink (TF 141 went wild when they saw her)

so she pulled you to the side and paid for the rest of your consumption too and for your taxi back home

a bit sad when you told her you weren't looking for a relationship

so she did what's best and spoke to your capitalism rotten brain and asked to be your sugar mommy

you had shit to pay off okay? and she was hot and spoke to your mommy issues...

takes it slow until she doesn't anymore (with consent ofc!)

when she asked you to hang out at her place and drink some wine, you didn't think anything of it

that was until you were bent over the couch, hands pinned down as she scissored your pussy open

made a little bet with you, every minute you could last without having an orgasm, she'd give you your allowance's worth in cold hard cash

you were cocky until she stuck that fucking vibrator inside of you

she pushed it in so deep and made sure it was hitting that sweet spot that made your whole body weak

didn't even need to wait too long before you squirted on her expensive couch

you didn't get a lot of money that night....

and you lost some of your dignity too

made sure to send over a bouquet of flowers to your workplace to remind you of how expensive house cleaning got these days

so fucking cocky and flirty when she feels like it

but also a sweetheart

would regularly ask you if you were doing well and eating properly

has food delivered to your door everyday so she knows you have a balanced diet

makes you take so many days off from work until you just decide to quit

she's way too happy knowing that you're now so much more available for her use

entertains the idea of being your only source of income for a bit

"you can just relax, take it easy. i'll take care of things for you"

busy woman no. 2

but she'd never forget to take you out on a fancy date somewhere really expensive to remind you how nice she treats you

made sure you had everything you'd ever need and then fed into your little whims and fantasies

doesn't have enough time to spare for you to show her what you got but she'd be happy inside knowing you were entertained and pleased

offers to send you on your dream vacation since she can't go

you beg her for so long until she finds a way to take a short break and enjoy her time with you there

this woman is literally working in the hotel while you go out shopping

you give her a nice massage after she finishes most of it because she deserves it <3

gets room service the next day for the both of you and spends the rest of the day cuddling you and visiting places

she definitely didn't develop feelings and neither did you, no not at all

she's upfront about it because really, what's the point?

she's too old to play the whole 'chase' thing

so while you're enjoying the jacuzzi in your room and sipping on some wine, she decides that's the best moment

you nearly choke on the wine

but she looks so...<3 and you know she'd treat you so well...

[hexidous]

Silk and Sweat

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Your apartment in the city is getting too expensive, so you pick up a side job as a stripper. When a customer gets handsy with you, the club manager Joel comes to your rescue.

Warnings: No use of Y/N but you do have a stage name. No depictions of reader’s physical appearance. Reader late 20s, Joel early 50s. Adult themes, depictions of stripping, sexual assault (not Joel), fingering, general horniness

Word count: 4.2k

Part II: Pretty As You Feel

Series Masterlist

-

Deep in the recesses of your closet hid a large box, collecting dust over the years. You had danced throughout college and kept some of your favorite work wears, just in case you ever returned.

You can totally still do this, you assure yourself as you sift through the long neglected contents.

With a huff of determination you put a bag together, setting your bagged heels at the bottom, followed by a few pairs of panties, a couple of dresses and your cosmetic bag.

There were plenty of strip clubs in the area, but you wanted to be sure to choose the right one. You never liked the younger crowds or nightclub-like scenes, the higher end clubs with older clientele suited your needs much better. Sure, they weren’t throwing handfuls of cash or making bills rain down with money guns to impress their friends, but you couldn’t stand dealing with a never ending sea of frat boys and batchelor parties.

You pull into the parking lot of the first club on your list, reading the simple red script illuminated by LED.

Silk Cabaret

You tried to quell your nervousness. It had been so long and you’re terrified they might turn you away in favor of teens and early twenties dancers.

A few words came to mind as you pushed through the doors. Lavish. Ostentatious, perhaps. The red walls were decorated with matching silk, meeting warm stained wood furnishings and accents.

“Hello!” A cute young woman greets you enthusiastically. “How can I help you?”

“Are you hiring dancers?” You ask, trying to project your voice and sound as confident as possible.

“I think so, let me grab a manager,” she chirps before standing up from her spot behind the counter.

You watch her disappear behind the wall dividing the entry room from the main section of the club. She emerges a moment later with a bright smile and cheery, “Follow me!”

You survey the rest of the club as you trail behind her. The bar was a large and L-shaped and tables covered in red cloth. The stage was displayed at the back of the room, a wide oval shape at the base with a short runway jutting out toward the center of the club.

The host leaves you to wait beside a bottle service section for a manager to come speak with you. After another minute or two of looking around, you noticed a figure emerge from behind a closed door.

Your eyes widen without your permission as you take in the man striding to toward you.

“Joel,” he says in a deep voice, jutting his large hand forward.

You try to maintain your composure as he envelopes your hand in his own and introduce yourself with a small smile, waiting for him to continue.

“You been fired from any clubs around here recently?” He asks, cutting right to the chase.

“No,” you reply with a small laugh. “I haven’t even danced in years. But I’ve never been fired, I’m not on drugs, no crazy boyfriend or baby daddy drama. Nothing that’s gonna give you a headache, I promise.”

You notice his lip curl upward in a slight smirk. “Haven’t danced in years, huh? What’s got you back?”

“I take it by that question you don’t pay rent in this city,” you tell him in a slightly amused tone.

“Ok you got me there. So you wanna start tonight?”

“Got my bag in my car,” you respond with a grin.

“We won’t pick up for a while, I can send you off with some paperwork if you want to come back around 7.”

“I don’t mind, it’ll give me some time to get acquainted,” you tell him as you head to retrieve your bag.

You return inside to find Joel now gone and you make your way toward the dressing room nestled behind the stage.

“One last thing,” Joel calls as you pass the now open door of his office.

Mildly startled, you turn to him and tilt your head, silently questioning.

“What’s your stage name?”

You bring your lip between your teeth, briefly wondering if you should assume a new moniker. Deciding against it, a name rolls off your tongue like an old friend. “Starla.”

-

You feel your anxiety laugh at you for thinking you were nervous before. Knowing one of the most gorgeous men you had seen in a long time would inevitably be watching you dance mostly naked would have excited you years ago. Now you feel almost sick as your heart races and and a knot forms at the base of your throat.

You shake your head, trying to force your unbelievably handsome new boss from your head.

You apply your makeup in a section of the bright, mirrored dressing room that’s unoccupied. You paint your eyes and lips darker and more exaggerated than you would normally and blush that looks ridiculous in the glaring light but perfect for both the dim club and flashy stage lighting. After running a brush through your hair, you stand to undress.

Your favorite dress was beautiful, but didn’t provide the easiest on and off access with the lace up back. Deciding to save it for the end of the night, if at all, you don a set made of a long skirt with a slit up the side and a tight matching top that pushes your breasts together enticingly.

You strap your heels on and shove your bag in an empty locker. With a steadying breath, you push through the thick, velvet curtain that shrouded the dressing room from prying eyes.

There was one customer now, chatting with the only other dancer you’ve seen so far. She looks to be a bit older than you, with spray tanned skin and gravity defying breasts.

You stand awkwardly beside the bar, unwilling to sit just yet.

“Hey there,” you hear in a soft, high pitched voice. You hadn’t noticed the bartender make her way toward you until she stood two feet away. “I’m Kenzie.”

“I’m-“ You begin, but catch yourself with a laugh. “I’m Starla. Gonna take some getting used to that again.”

“It won’t take long,” she responds with a knowing smile. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” you tell her. Frankly, you’d love a drink to settle your nerves, but you weren’t about to pay strip club drink prices when you know soon enough there will be a room full of men willing to pay them for you.

“It’s on Phil,” she says with a nod in the direction of the man you noticed earlier.

He and the woman talking to him meet your gaze and give you a smile and wave.

“Thank you!” You call over, waving back. You turn your attention back to Kenzie. “Titos and clubs soda it is then.”

Kenzie returns with your drink and you sip slowly, waiting for the action to pick up.

By the time you reach the end, the only other people to walk in were two more girls, chatting casually as they made their way to the back.

“He said he’ll get you another if you’d like,” Kenzie says, grabbing your empty glass.

“I should probably take it slow,” you respond.

“Smart girl. I like you.”

You smile at her compliment and see Joel emerging from his office again, taking a stance beside the vip section. He catches your gaze and gives you a smile.

With nothing else going on you decide to approach him, the confidence of your former persona coming through.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. Your stomach flutters and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You were used to lecherous compliments at the club, given with a lustful look over your body. But Joel kept his eyes on yours.

“Thanks. I guess I’m glad I didn’t the heart to give away everything when I stopped dancing.”

“What did you do before deciding to come back to this?” He asks, his eyes scanning the nonexistent crowd.

“I’m a graphic designer,” you tell him. “With outsourcing and AI it’s been a nightmare to find reasonable pay.”

He nods empathetically. “I bet.”

“How long have you worked here?” You ask.

“About ten years. I took work as a bouncer after serving in the military. Came here, got promoted after two and… Well, here I am.” He runs a hand through his tousled salt and brown sugar hair.

Before you can say anything else, another pair of girls come strolling by.

“Hi, Joel,” one says, slowly dragging the vowels out before giggling with her friend.

“Ladies,” Joel says curtly with a nod.

“What time does the DJ get in?” You ask Joel nervously.

“About an hour.”

Your stomach drops a bit. You haven’t been on a stage in years. “Do you mind if I maybe do a practice song or two before rotation starts? It’s been so long and I’m a bit antsy to get it over with.”

“Of course,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you turn to make your way over. “Sure hope it’s like riding a bike!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away. You think you hear a chuckle but you don’t dare turn around to check.

The preset playlist cycles through typical 80s hair metal and pop songs. Good to know some things don’t change.

You step through the curtain, thankful the room is nearly empty. Your eyes dart to where Joel was standing and you breathe a sigh of relief to see it empty.

You slowly sway your hips to the beat, grasping the cold metal pole in your hands. You spin around it, rotating your body with quick ease. Feeling more confident, you grasp higher and begin to climb.

The friction is painful between your legs, your thighs no longer desensitized to the intense grip. But you’re doing it. You carefully wrap your body around the pole, losing yourself to the beat as you transition into some basic moves.

You breathe a sigh of relief that your stage time maybe won’t be as painfully awkward as you feared.

You push through the curtain back into the dressing room.

“You’re wasting your time you know,” a girl sitting down to get ready tells you as she smiles at herself in the mirror, applying dark red lipstick.

Your brow furrows as you wait for her to continue.

“Joel Miller doesn’t fuck with the dancers. Trust me, we’ve all tried,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just giving you a heads up before you lose out on money trying to get in his chastity belt.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t…”

“Mmhmm,” she says with an unbelieving raised brow and knowing smirk before returning to her routine.

-

The night begins to pick up, patrons and more dancers slowly filling the modest space. The DJ arrives and you introduce yourself.

“I’m Tommy,” he tells you with a warm smile. “Anything you like to dance to?” He asks.

“I’m not too picky,” you reply. “But I may have slight PTSD from the song Girls, Girls, Girls so please avoid that one.”

“That’s our promo song,” he says with a frown.

“Oh god,” you grumble. The thought of hearing that song every hour on the hour nearly giving you a headache.

“I kid, couldn’t help myself,” he reveals with a proud smile.

“Thank Christ. I almost quit.”

-

It’s not long before you hear Tommy call you to the stage for the next song. Your nerves are set alight as you make your way through the dressing room and enter the DJ booth.

“Hope you got a good set for me,” you tell him.

“I got you, superstar,” he replies with a wide grin.

You throw your shoulders back and emerge onto the large, glossy wooden stage, heels clicking with each step.

You freeze, hearing the familiar beginning notes of Girls, Girls, Girls and shoot Tommy a death stare. The song smoothly transitions into Alice Cooper’s Poison and you fight a smile as you watch Tommy shake with silent laughter.

You’ve danced to the song plenty of times and didn’t have to think much about your movements, your muscle memory doing all the work. You slowly shed your clothing and give attention to the men at the stage tipping you.

Sitting before a group of transfixed men, you arch your back and spread your legs. Your head comes forward and you lock eyes with Joel, who you hadn’t realized was staring intently at you. As soon as he notices your gaze, he scans the room, looking everywhere but the stage.

You finish your set and grab your money and dress.

“You’re an ass for that, you know,” you tell Tommy with a smile as you head to the dressing room.

-

You slip back into your former routine easily. Approach a man, laugh at his lame jokes, hand out light touches to his arm or knee, seem interested in his boring life.

“I’ve got someone coming in to see me soon, but I’d really love to dance for you,” you deliver your go to line with a purr.

“Can’t be havin’ that,” the man you’re talking to growls, a slight slur to his words. “Want ya all to m’self.”.

“Let’s go then,” you say, forcing out a giggle.

He hands you a few hundreds. “Half hour.”

You approach Joel and hand over the dance fee for the private room.

He nods and marks down the time. You lead the moderately intoxicated man by his hand and he uses his free one to slap your ass.

You turn around and see Joel puffing his broad chest out, ready to make a move. You shake your head subtly, indicating you could handle it.

“You’ll want to behave, baby, I don’t give refunds,” you tell him sternly.

You begin dancing for him in the tiny private space. His suit is rumpled and his drunkenness seems to increase as he sits before you.

Clammy fingers grab at your skirt, trying to pull it off. You bat his hands away, annoyed. “It’s called a strip tease for a reason, have a little patience.”

“You sure are a fuckin’ tease,” he spits.

You turn to face away from him, bending slightly and slowly shaking your ass to hide the look of rage you don’t care to conceal. He smacks your ass again.

“Touch me one more time and see what the fuck happens,” you seethe in his face, unable to contain your anger at the drunken bastard.

“Better make it count then,” he growls through clenched teeth.

More nimbly than you’d expect, he stands up and presses you to the wall, using one hand to cover your mouth and shoving the other down the front of your panties.

You thrash against him but before you can make a move, you hear the curtain rip open. Joel storms in, dominating the small space with his imposing frame. He grabs the man off of you swiftly.

“She asked me to!” He lies in his defense.

You watch as Joel’s nostrils flare, his large muscles twitching. Before you can register it, he’s delivering blow after blow to the man’s face.

“And I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I heard you ask me to do that,” he says in a frighteningly low, steady voice.

He drags the man out and you stay frozen, trying to collect yourself.

Of course this would fucking happen, you think bitterly. You feel a dull throb between your thighs as you think about the way Joel defended you. And of course it would turn me on.

You’re not sure how long you stand there before Joel tentatively renters the room.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his voice soft and low, warming you from the inside like a cup of tea on a cold night.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Been through worse. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he says firmly. “I am so sorry that happened in my club. I should have stepped in when I saw him smack your ass.”

“It’s not your fault. Thank you for coming so quickly,” you reply honestly. “How did you know to get here so fast?”

He clears his throat almost bashfully and looks away. “I was standing close by and heard you yell at him. Heard too much commotion so I came in.”

“So much for not causing you a headache,” you joke, trying to lighten the air.

“You didn’t cause a headache for me, darlin’” he assures. “You wanna press charges?”

“So the law can favor the rich guy over the stripper and he sues you for hitting him? Nah, I’m good.”

He studies your face for a moment. “You ok to go back out?”

“Yeah. I think I could go for another drink now.”

-

The rest of your night goes by with relative ease. You notice Joel’s eyes on you a few times, but when you catch him he doesn’t look away. Silently assuring you that you’re safe under his watch.

What I'd give to be safe under his body, you think to yourself.

"As much as I've loved talking to you," you lie to whoever you're sitting beside now, "I gotta get a move on."

"One more drink," he pleads.

"My boss is kind of a hard ass," you lie again. "He’ll really lay into me if I stay in one place for too long.”

God I wish he’d lay into me, your filthy brain whispers again.

“Alright,” the man relents. “A dance then?”

“That I can do,” you respond, leaving your chair. You see Joel’s eyes fixed on you in your peripheral vision. It drives you wild.

You wait for a new song to come on before you begin to shake your hips between the man’s legs. He’s not terrible looking. Probably around the same age as Joel, but lacking the sex appeal that exudes from the man dominating your thoughts.

You straddle one of his thighs, arching your back and resting your forearms well above his shoulder. You pop your pussy, making your ass jiggle rhythmically. Your center just barely grazes his thigh and you close your eyes, imagining Joel beneath you. You shudder out a breath and change your position. You rub your thighs together, your thoughts of Joel cumulating to a dull ache between them.

The song ends and the man below you seems to notice your desire, mistaking it to be for him. He requests to keep going and you oblige, continuing to picture Joel with every tormented move.

Tommy announces that he’s about to play the last three songs of the evening.

“Might as well see it through to the end,” you whisper.

“Might as well,” he grunts back, adjusting himself in his pants.

You dance for the remainder of the night, collecting the cash from your final customer.

“Will I see you again?” He asks as you redress.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “But if I keep dancing it’ll be here.”

“Here’s hoping you do,” he tells you as he stands. “It was great to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too. Goodnight.” You give him a small smile before heading to the dressing room.

-

Most of the girls have left by the time you change back into the dress you wore in. Your face feels heavy with sweat and makeup, so you decide to remove it all before making your way up to the DJ booth. You catch Tommy just as he’s about to head out.

“You know, I debated stiffing you for that stunt you pulled earlier,” you say, handing him a few twenties, tipping more than necessary because you know the value of having the DJ on your side. “But you did pretty good otherwise so I guess I’ll hock it over.”

“Why thank you, darlin’,” he tells you with a little bow of his head. “See you tomorrow?”

“With how sore I’m gonna be? You’ll see me in a week. Maybe.”

“Don’t wait till it hits ya, take an epsom soak tonight,” he advises.

“I think that is exactly what I’ll do.”

You find Joel in his office, sorting through stacks of bills and paperwork, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his strong nose. You thought he couldn’t get any sexier, but here you were, slowly melting from the inside out.

“Hi,” you say softly to get his attention. He looks up at you as hand your house fee his way.

“I don’t want that after what you dealt with tonight,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, been through worse. Just take it.”

He obliges, setting it alongside the other stacks.

“You can still help me feel better about it though,” you say, drunk off all the attention given to you that night. And the drinks.

“How’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t like when control is taken from me,” you state. “I hate that his clammy little hands were the last ones to touch me.”

He stares up at you silently. It’s almost imperceivable but you take note of the way his brow furrows and chest rises and falls a little harder.

He doesn’t get up from his chair, but swivels it to face you fully. He takes one hand and places it on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He slides it upward at an excruciating pace, causing a shiver to run through your body. “This is what you want? What you’re asking of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper and nod your head. “Please.”

He continues up your thigh until reaching your cotton panties, a much more comfortable switch from the ones you wore while working. He drags a finger around the hem teasingly before brushing his thumb over your clit.

He looks up at you, waiting for your eyes to return to his. There’s a fire in them as he yanks your panties down roughly, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Shut the door,” he commands. You quickly do as you’re told.

He returns his hand to your center, hissing as he feels the extent of how turned on you are.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” He asks with a smirk, lightly running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Been thinking about you,” you admit breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop myself.”

He pushes two digits fully into you, eliciting a partly stifled moan. He sets a quick pace, causing your knees to almost buckle.

Joel takes off his reading glasses with his free hand. “Lift your dress,” he commands. “I want to see.”

You lift your dress and watch as he stares at his fingers brutally fucking into your pussy, his other hand returning to roughly grasp your hip. His breaths are more labored and his lips are curled into a slight snarl. The sight sends you closer to the edge.

He feels your walls start to constrict around his fingers and brings the hand on your hip to settle flat against your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and pressing quick circles into it.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, your greedy cunt tightening further, wanting more.

“Shut that pretty mouth if you want me to make you cum,” he warns.

“Yes sir,” you whisper, biting your lip to stop from crying out.

“Good girl,” he praises in a softer tone.

That’s all it takes for the knot in your center to pull itself free, a wave of intense pleasure rushing through you. You bite your lip harder and place a hand on Joel’s firm, muscled shoulder to keep from screaming or collapsing.

You let your hand run down his strong bicep as he removes his fingers.

“On your knees,” he demands.

You readily sink between his legs and eye the massive bulge he has there. You want to reach out and touch it, free it from the strict confines of his pants and take him in your mouth. Wordlessly thank him. You want to fucking worship him.

But you know that you’re not the one in charge, you handed those reigns over to Joel with pleasure.

He brings his wet fingers to your lips and you eagerly take them in your mouth, twirling your tongue around his digits as you suck them clean. He groans, sending another twinge of desire to your spent pussy. You were insatiable.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your hot mouth a few times, transfixed by your soft lips.

He takes his hand away and wipes his saliva on his shirt.

Standing up, his throbbing cock just inches from your face. You look up at him, silently begging for permission to take it out.

“Come on,” he says instead, offering a hand down to you. “I’ll walk you out.”

You take his hand and rise, disappointed.

He’s quiet as he walks you to your car and you worry that you fucked up by asking him to touch you. You were already warned that he didn’t mess around with the dancers. It was a good policy to stick to but you had met very few men working in clubs who had the willpower to follow through with it. Now he probably didn’t want you coming back.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you reach your car. “For walking me out, for saving me from that creep and for helping me feel better about it. I know that’s all it was, I won’t be weird about it. But I understand if you don’t want me to come back.”

He shoots you an offended look. “Jesus, no. You are more than welcome back here.”

He pauses for a moment before opening his arms to you. You shyly sink into them, reveling in how firm yet soft his warm body felt against yours. He pats your upper back, like a dad would to a kid. “I’m sorry again about tonight. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” you tell him before slipping into your car. You watch as he turns to head back into the club, taking in his broad frame with admiration. You were fucked.

[spicyclover]

Unplanned | Part eight

Summary:  You are pregnant with Mick. It’s not going as planned; it’s not planned. Everything happened so fast, and everything was chaotic. Mick has a hard time accepting it. You have difficulty realizing that two of you may not be raising this child.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five | Part six | Part seven | Part eight

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! 

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

The following day, he jumps on the next plane available for Canada, which is a three-connection, but he doesn't care at this point. He waits hours for his next connection at the Charles de Gaulle airport. Trying to think about what to say or do.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are forced to land at the Ottawa International Airport due to a snowstorm at the destination point. We apologize for the inconvenience. We sincerely apologize, and our stewardesses on the ground can assist you to redirect you to the next available flights. Thank you for your understanding.”

Mick looks through the window and sees the white expanse covering the airport's ground. The runway was covered with heavy snow, but he could see the plows clearing the runways quickly to allow the aircraft to land safely. Dressed in a little sweater and a T-shirt. He regrets not thinking about Canada’s complicated weather, especially at this time of year. Of course, it’s cold in January, and there’s snow. It’s not Australia, after all. He also regrets not putting a hoodie in his bag. He knows full well that he will catch his death once he gets out of the heat of the airport.

All the passengers on the plane complained about the change of direction, and several disgruntled people were already praising the company’s complaint. Mick looks up and knows full well that it’s not their fault. All of eastern Canada is blocked because of this storm.

However, he is thinking about what he will be able to do next. How will he get to Quebec City? He thought about the various options as the aircraft suddenly landed on the runway. He clings to his seat, taking a deep breath. He never liked to fly, let alone in a storm. The bell that says the seat belt is no longer necessary rings, and everyone rushes into the aisles to pick up their luggage as quickly as possible. Something else Mick doesn’t like. Being glued to strangers, he sits quietly in his place and waits for people to come out to get up and take his bag. He crosses the hallway and follows the arrows that lead him to security. He goes through customs quickly and ends up at the airport gates. He sees people pulling out their winter jackets and big boots. "I really should have dressed." He mumbles to himself, crossing his arms around his body to keep his body warm.

He went to the reception desk to be put on the next flight to Montreal, but it would not leave for three days. “It’s too long.” A little stress invades him, and he wonders how he will reach his destination if no plane lands in Montreal for the next few days. So he sits on a bench and thinks. “I have to get to her.”

He finally finds the best solution to his problem. “If I can’t fly to her. I’ll do what I know best. I’ll drive to her." He got up to determine and went to the car rental service.

Renting is the best option right now.

After five hours of difficult driving through the snowstorm, he finally arrived at his destination. The city is completely buried under the ton of snow that fell during the night, the streets are deserted, and it makes the landscape breathtaking. The snow covers the entire St. Lawrence River. He even sees people on snowmobiles, making tracks on the fresh snow to cross the river. Mick knows snow, but snow like this never happens. He never thought that when he came to Quebec, he would be blown away by his landscapes. The sun is rising, setting in the sky.

They spoke about her home. She described the island where she lives. Ancestral houses, fields as far as the eye can see and the different villages of the island. The bridge that connects the island to the city is old but beautiful. Everything seems asleep under its snow mountains, yet several people are already beginning to unfold their entrance, and children are waiting for the school bus. Fortunately, the road is perfectly cleared of snow, allowing Mick to admire the landscape without danger.

He easily finds the house. He remembers as if it were yesterday the description she gave him of her parents' house. She described the landscape and the atmosphere of the place, and he felt it strongly. He exits his vehicle and is surprised that the snow reaches his calves. He tightens his sweater against his body and approaches the house's porch. The lights inside his lit, and he still sees Christmas decorations. The tree shines with a thousand lights. He rings the bell.

A chime agitates and produces a magnificent symphony that mixes with wind and snow. He stands there for a few seconds without a sound and hops on the spot to warm up. Then, he hears through the door a person approaching.

"Yes?" asks the lady, opening the door.

She's staring at Mick from top to bottom, probably wondering what he's doing in a weather like this, dressed like this. Mick looks up at the woman in front of him, and she doesn't look like Y/n, and he feels embarrassed to disturb her. He blushes when he stutters.

"Um... I don't think I have the correct address. I'm sorry to bother you." He quickly steps back and is ready to go down the stair when suddenly.

"Mick," he hears a voice in the distance.

She approaches the entrance door and lets her face be seen in the door frame. A smile from on his face. It's her, and it's really her. He can't believe it. It seems like ages since he last saw her. Her hair is brighter, and her skin is radiant. She seems to radiate for miles. She has a worried look on her face. He's shaking like a leaf, and his face seems frozen from the cold.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, taking him by the arm and drawing him into the hall. "Come, come in. You will catch death."

She closes the door behind him, and the other woman leaves at the end of the long corridor in a room unknown to him, leaving them alone. The young woman helps him take his shoes off, grumbling about not dressing enough for the temperature. She guides him into the living room, sitting him in front of the fire to warm him up. Mick doesn't say much, but he thanks her. He's thankful she didn't throw him like an old sock in his car so he could get out of the country. She leaves in another room, and Mick takes the time to look around at the pictures in front of him sitting on the mantel. He rubs his hands close to the fire, hoping to warm up. She comes back a few minutes later.

"Thank you," he said, taking the hot chocolate in his icy hands.

He shudders and shivers from the cold. She watches him for a few moments before returning to the corridor. She returns with warm clothes and a vast warming blanket. He puts on the clothes, and she tenderly wraps him up like a child in the blanket and caresses his hair. Despite all the anger, she may feel. At this very moment, all she wants is his good. He puts his head between the palm of her hand, taking the time to feel her warmth, keeping her contact a few moments before it is interrupted.

“What are you doing here, Mick?" She asks tenderly as she sits on the couch next to him.

He doesn't know what to say at first. So, he lets his eyes look at the room. He notices the house is small but extremely warm and cozy. The mix of wood and cream makes the home very welcoming and not intimidating. Nothing like his house. He feels good here, and he hopes she is too.

“I... He’s searching for the words he spent hours practicing on the plane and in the car to her house. “I came to see you.” He admits locking his ocean-blue eyes in hers.

“Mick, what did you really come to do? Are you not with Nina?” She wonders with a touch of bitterness in her voice.

He feels the bitterness in her voice, and he feels terrible. Bad because he wants her to know so many things all at once, but she doesn't seem able to listen.

She didn’t want to show him that he hurt her, but she couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the other. "Why is he here? Did the other girl leave him? Is that why he came here?" All those questions invade her mind immediately, and she feels her tear coming up. Her throat tightens.

“No. No. I...” Words struggle to get out, and Mick feels increasingly uncomfortable. His cheeks turn red, and he mumbles an apology again. “I broke up with Nina.” He finally confesses, looking at her in the eye once more.

“Oh, sorry about you.” She isn't sorry for a bit but doesn't feel better either. Strangely, she feels weird about all this.

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate. All the sentences he prepared, all the words and promises he made up on the plane, are gone. He wants to tell her the world and even more. "How can he describe how she makes him feel if he doesn't even have the words?" He wants to kiss her, to prove to her that he'll be hers, and only hers by now. But he knows for sure that a kiss isn't the right idea. She needs explication, and quickly. All this situation makes him anxious and stressed.

“No. No. No. She's not important to me.” He puts his coffee cup on the table and turns his body towards the young woman. “I want you.” He mumbles, taking her hands gently in his own.

“Mick...”

“No, listen to me! I screwed up, I know. I shouldn’t have left you alone all this time, and I’ll have. I want to be there for you, with you. I want you to be close to me. The few days we spent together have opened my eyes, and I know what I want now. I...”

"Don’t say it," she implores with eyes full of water.

“I need you to know that. The few weeks without you were the worst weeks of my life.” He approaches her hand and rubs her cheek tenderly. “I don’t just want to be involved in your life because of the baby, our baby. I want to be involved because I...”

“No, stop, Mick.” She says, pushing him away. “You can’t say that when it’s only been a few weeks since you walked out on me, kissing your girlfriend in my face. I can’t... I don’t want those words coming out of your mouth. You’re being unfair to me.” She cries out as she leaves the room in tears.

She hates hormones. She hates the control it has on her. She can't have a proper conversation that doesn't involve tears and screams since the start of her pregnancy. She feels so frustrated with herself and doesn't want to say more things to Mick. She storms out of the room, slamming the bathroom door. Her hormones make this situation somewhat upsetting, a real drama. She locks herself in the bathroom and lets herself slide to the ground.

He has no right to come back like a flower and ask him to forgive him for the weeks of pure sadness that he made her live. He has no right. She bursts into tears and brings her knees back to her chest. She did her best with her growing belly, a little more rounded by her 15 weeks of pregnancy.

On his side, Mick’s remorse seizes him, and he feels at his worst. How she feels and expresses it is worse than he could have imagined, and he never wanted that to happen. He sees the woman who welcomed him, and she approaches him with a compassionate smile.

"Don’t worry. It’s hormones. She’s just upset about the situation, but once she’s calm, she’ll talk to you.” She said as she sat beside him, offering him a comforting pat on the back. "Don’t worry about it. I know that you have good intentions."

"How do you know?" He questions down.

"Well, I talked with your mother a few hours ago. She's a very persuasive woman.” She giggles slightly to relax the atmosphere and reassure him. "She cares about you very much."

“You are her mother?”

“Yes." She nods. "You should go see her."

"I don't think it's the right idea. She hates me." He mumbles, wiping a few tears down his cheek.

"She doesn't hate you. She's upset and pregnant, which are two things that don't go together. Knowing my daughter, she’s probably doing a thousand scenarios in her head, so I think you can go and reassure her." She taps his shoulder gently before getting up again. "You have to lift the handle a little to unlock the door. And a little tip, don’t talk too much. Let her open to you.” She winks at him before heading outside.

Mick nods and gets up from the couch. He listens to her choking sobs with his ear glued to the bathroom door. A pinch in the heart invades him, and he unlocks the door without difficulty. She barely has time to look up as he’s already hugged her. Letting her go through her emotions. She wants to struggle and get away from him, but deep down, she doesn’t want to. She allows her tears to stain his sweater. Mick gently cradles her. She feels good in his arms, reminding her of the day he took her in his coat to keep her warm.

Her sobs subside, and her breathing resumes a normal rhythm. She feels her body relax more and more and closes her eyes, happy to have him back by her side. She gently detaches herself from him to take a handkerchief and blow her nose. She laughs and implores him not to watch her blow her nose. He laughs but does what she says, and he looks away.

They remain for a moment in silence, sitting in the bathroom, enjoying the presence of the other. When Mick’s stomach starts to gurgle strongly, she finally decides to get up. He helps her get back on her feet, and she giggles when she hears his belly gurgling. He blushes heavily when he mumbles an apology. She leads him to the kitchen and orders him to sit down. She takes out a pan and removes the pancake preparation that she made a few hours ago from the fridge.

He takes the time to admire her. Her cream hoodie, which he recognizes from the RIC store, suits her perfectly. She seems cozy and warm while the sun sets on the kitchen windows. As always, the light from the mighty sun reflects on her magnificent strawberry blonde. Mick wants to put his hand in her hair and smell that sweet smell of honey again. Her perfume intoxicates him. He's lost in her beauty that he doesn't even realize she talked to him.

"What?" He mumbles, a bit embarrassed to have been cough daydreaming.

"Do you want maple syrup on your pancake?"

He nods, and they eat in silence. Mick thanks her multiple time for her kindness, and she laughs. She finds him sweet. He is sweet. All those things he says and how he tells them makes her heart go. Butterflies in her stomach. She rests a hand on her belly, rubbing it distractedly, listening to Mick mumbling about his recent discovery about their baby.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes she hasn't been fair to him either, especially about the baby. She knows they have to talk about it eventually, but right now wants this peace and quiet moment, without drama, to continue forever. She's lost in her thought and hasn't realized he is asking her a question.

"Hum?"

"How is he?" He asks again, pointing at her baby bump.

"Oh, everything is fine. The baby is perfectly healthy and strong and has a strong heartbeat."

"Really?" Mick’s eyes light up, and she smiles affectionately.

"Yeah! Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure." The spark in his eyes makes her smile even more.

She gets her phone and headphone and comes back quickly. She sets the devices on his head and searches her playlist for the baby songs. She hasn't stopped listening to it since the doctor gave her a record.

For a few seconds, he can't hear a thing. But, little by little, the beats are listened to. Regular and strong. Tears of joy appear in his eyes. This is Mick's first time hearing his baby’s heart beating. Even if it’s not live, he is filled with joy. He smiles fully and gently puts his hand against the young woman’s belly. He caresses tenderly and can no longer hold back his tears. The emotion is strong. He never thought he would be so moved by a very small being not yet born. Seeing him move makes her move, and she wipes her tears. She is more than happy to be able to share her moment with him finally. She ties her fingers to his and puts her head against his shoulder.

"Come with me at ROC this weekend." He mumbles once the recording of the heartbeat is finished. "We have much to discuss, but I want you close, and I don't want this to end."

Mick’s heart beats a thousand a second, and his nervousness makes him blush. To reassure himself after this proposal, he caresses his stomach. God, he can’t wait for the baby to move, for him to feel it too.

She hesitates to accept his request and doesn’t want to find herself in a situation she doesn’t like again. And even more, this is a public event, and many people will be there. It’s one thing to meet his family at home and stay in a private setting, but it’s another to make this story public. He feels his hesitation, and he cannot help but add.

"My friend Sebastian is going to be there. I really want you to meet him. It’s like a second father, a mentor to me. And I want him to see the person who’s going to... I hope... share her life with me." He whispers at the end of his sentence, barely inaudible.

Her heart goes wild, and the butterflies in her belly fly away. She feels light and happy. Happy that he offers her. Glad he chose her. Glad she could finally tell “us” after these weeks of loneliness.

"Okay." She says. "I'll go with you."  

Tag list:

@tyna-19 @ironcowboycopnickel @dreamerrosie @gagaga167 @primadonnasdream @sachaa-ff @majx00 @lissimountf1 @mloyer @playboygeniusphilanthropist​ @sugarbabygirlofdaddy​ @pleasedontfollowimlost​ @blueleonor​ basicallyherondale mariar31

[mamirhodessxox]

Little party never killed nobody

Jay Gatsby x Fem!Model Reader

Based in the 1920’s

Desc- Jay & His wife held yet another party at the manor but this time with a little spice, he specifically added in a runway just to have his wife reveal herself to the guests in dazzling way

Contents: Fluff, Alcohol, Smoking, Gatsby throwing obnoxious parties, Gatsby being Gatsby, Y/N serving cunt and telling of Tom & Daisy.

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) Votes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

For the last 3 years Gatsby was known for throwing parties & obnoxious ones at that, at first they were to impress Daisy but once he met you he knew she had nothing compared to you, you were known throughout New York for being straight forward with people & modeling the top fashion trends of the 20’s that Daisy wish she could participate in.

You two got together almost immediately after meeting and now tonight marks your 1 year anniversary with Gatsby and he only hosts his parties now for you and only you. To hell with Daisy’s impression of his parties. He wanted you to make a grand entrance tonight so the man rented out a whole runway JUST for you. The two of you walked around the mansion checking out tonights set up. Your arm locked in with his as you held a martini in your free hand “How do you feel darling? Would you like to add in your own flair my dear?” Jay muttered in your ear making you smile up at him “Nothing could be more perfect Jay. Y’know you don’t need to throw these extravagant events for me my dear. I’m already impressed with your admiration for me.” He hummed and shook his head “Nonsense. You’re my wife darling it’s my job to do all the theatrics for you. Now, let me show you the outstanding runway just for you my dear.”

Hours go by & night had finally invaded the sky as well as the galaxies stars, the house was practically lit up in a spew of colors with music blaring throughout the East egg, multiple guests welcoming themselves inside your humble abode, Gatsby finally announced your name to reveal yourself to the guests who adored you the most but never as much as him, You walked your way down the glittering runway as you wore the most expensive flapper dress with sequin & other glitzy accessories acquired to the dress swinging around while a feather was attached to the headband you wore upon your head.

You soon walked off and attached yourself to Gatsby with a grin while placing a kiss on his neck “Oh my dearest one you’ve never failed to impress me” he grinned and ran his hands down your back before spinning you around “I hope you don’t mind dear but I have invited over some friends, Y/N this is our neighbor Nick.” You smiled “why darling of course I wouldn’t mind, Half of the city is at the house anyway” You smiled and held out your hand to his friend “It’s a pleasure to meet you dear Nick” he smiled and shook your hand

“And you as-well Mrs Gatsby, I hope you wouldn’t mind terribly but I’ve brought my Cousin & her husband with me, Daisy & Tom buchanan to be specific” You knew who they were & they were your least favorite type of people, You hummed distastefully as Gatsby held you close as he took the wheel “Why of course not, why don’t we all find somewhere quiet and catch up hm? What do you think dear?”

You looked up at him & smiled in approval. The 5 of you made your way to the library & Jay was seated talking with Tom addressing his condescending remarks while you stood behind Jay staring down Daisy before kissing his cheek before she ran her mouth. “Perhaps it’s classless for a woman to stroke up on her husband in-front of guests no?” Tom quirked an eyebrow up at his wife as Nick cleared his throat uncomfortably while you decided to play hooky & sit on Jays lap embracing his arms around your waist before you went off.

“Classless? No dear I don’t believe i’m the one lacking class You see, the only woman here who lacks class is You daisy darling, You also lack a sense of self respect for yourself as-well, You willingly married a man who lacks respect for the other race because he thinks only white people are the ones to be in control, You also married a man who has no respect for you either, I’m sure everyone in this very room know about his scandalous affairs with another woman besides You.” Jay cleared his throat “My apologies she’s ju-“ you look around at him and glare “Do not interrupt me Jay I have not finished speaking. It is also classless to be a gold digger that only marries men for the glitz & glimmer and also leaving another man behind because he was busy defending this country, Being a gold digger that lacks self respect is in-fact classless so do not compare me to you ever again especially in the home you’ve been invited to Daisy, it’s a privilege to be in the same room as me and be in my house, It’s a privilege i’m even speaking to you.”

Daisy sat there in utter shock while Tom stood up to smack you but you stood up as-well “I wish a brute like you would lay his hands on me, Your just a dumb classless man who was born into money instead of working for it like Jay, Your a man who lacks respect for the opposite race and women, your a dumb man that reads big books with long words to make you feel smart when you lack intelligence now rid you and your wife’s presence out of my house before I have you removed.” Jay stood behind you with his hands against your shoulders as he watched the wedded couple leave while Nick stood in amazement “Your the first person to tell them off like that.” Jay chuckled and wrapped his arms around you “She’s a fire cracker isn’t she? She’s quite an honest woman I’ll say.”

You hum and turn to wrap your arms around your husband as he presses his lips against you while the light of the fireworks popping outside of the library’s window shines against you two. Nick hummed “Yes well I suppose I should make it home.” You two weren’t even listening so he left anyway. Gatsby pressed your body against a desk and ended the night off with true excitement between you two before the sun came up.

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @puppy-princ3ss

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

[valeriianz]

i was ready to leave this be but then @designtheendless made this gorgeous art so of course i had to write a bit more The Devil Wears Prada AU:

-----------

Dream invites Hob as a plus-one to a fashion event. Hob is ecstatic to get a glimpse into the fast-paced, cut-throat industry that Dream has nudged his way into. He warns Hob that Morningstar might drag him away at any given moment and he’d be left alone, is that alright? Hob shrugs and can’t say he minds. If he gets free food and booze out of it, he’ll gladly wander around for a bit.

And for the first time in Hob’s life, he gets dolled up. Really dressing the part of a fashion mogul’s partner. Dream takes him out, using the money from a bonus in his salary to surprise Hob by taking him to a tailor. Hob wonders why none of his usual blazer and pants combo wouldn’t work and tries not to get offended at the way Dream scrunches up his nose and refuses to answer him.

“Every man should have a tailored suit in their wardrobe,” Dream explains while Hob stands on the short platform and the seamstress takes his measurements. “A perfect fit is the raison d’être of custom suits.”

Hob swallows at the perfect French slipping past Dream’s lips. He had only been in Paris for a couple weeks yet he was already name-dropping influential French designers, recalling conversations he’d had with them in stories he’d recant to Hob in an accent that Hob never knew Dream could pull off. Or that he’d be so enticed by.

“I’ll never get the chance to wear this again, you know,” Hob smiled, a little self-deprecating. Working as a chef hardly afforded Hob time to dress up. And it wasn’t like he ever went anywhere fancy enough for such effort. “After the party, it’s just gonna sit in my closet forever.”

“We’ll make use of it…” Dream says softly, standing up as the seamstress steps away to grab something. 

Dream takes up Hob’s arm, fingers trailing down the length of it, covered in a deep blue fabric that probably costs more than their monthly rent and Hob’s eyes never leave Dream as he inspects the pins and cuffs.

“A custom suit,” Dream starts again, dropping Hob’s arm and moving on to the front of the jacket, caressing the lapels. “Is designed to highlight the best features of its wearer. Bespoke tailoring is an art form, and you are the perfect canvas.”

Hob looks down at Dream, standing on the platform gives the illusion of added height, and Dream raises his eyes to look upon him. Hob tries very hard not to dive too deep into Dream’s blue eyes, tries not to get lost in the crystal clear sea of emotions, the way he could drown in them.

“And what are my best features?” Hob grins, raising an eyebrow, challenging.

Dream chuckles, tugging at the jacket. His eyes never leave Hob’s, even as the tailor returns.

“I’ll tell you later.”

There are a lot of big names and top designers at the event and Hob hasn’t a clue who any of them are, but he listens and nods when Dream points them out. He shakes hands with professional photographers and runway models and designers that Hob kind of recognizes but not really. He’s too busy marveling at the immaculate decor, the flowy dresses, and the free champagne. 

Dream, as warned, leaves his side constantly. But Hob has perfected the art of fake-it-til-you-make-it and smiles cheerily and engages in simple chit chat where he lets the other person do all the talking and nods along enthusiastically. He tugs on the sleeves on his jacket, amazed how a well-fitted suit can feel like wearing nothing at all. The fabric is also high quality, buttery soft to the touch and moving along his skin with every step like a gentle hug. He feels a little like a poser, but after a few drinks in him, settles more into the mindset of a party crasher.

After about an hour of missing Dream, Hob goes looking for him. Weaving and winding through the crowd, finding Morningstar on a few occasions and blatantly ignoring her, especially as he doesn’t see Dream with her.

Hob finds a back entrance that’s all glass and slips through into the cool evening air and hears Dream’s unmistakable deep tenor, talking with someone privately. 

And as Hob approaches, he notes the distinct agitation in Dream’s tone.

“... truly tired of finding you everywhere I go, Christian.” Dream sighs disdainfully. 

“You should be in print,” another voice– Christian, speaks quickly, laying on the charm heavily. “I see the way Morningstar treats you.”

“They treat me fine. You, on the other hand–”

“I’d treat you so well, Dream.”

Hob finally rounds a corner and finds Dream leaning back against a wall of the mansion, holding a champagne flute that no longer has anything in it between them, as if using it as a barrier. Christian is leaning just a hair too close in Dream’s space and at the sight of it, Hob nearly sees red.

“Hey, Dream. I’ve been looking for you.”

Dream turns his head and at the sight of Hob, his face relaxes immediately. The impatient, frustrated look in his eyes, the furrowed brow, vanishing in relief.

Hob isn’t a jealous guy, and he knows it isn’t jealousy that he feels rushing through his veins. It’s possession. It’s some kind of embarrassing animal instinct to claim and parade about how that’s mine, back off.

So the way he slips next to Dream, getting an arm around his waist and pulling him into a kiss that absolutely doesn’t need to be as lascivious and biting as it is, feels both appropriate and completely unnecessary. 

But the way Dream melts at the slip of Hob’s tongue, the way he’s kissing back, using his free hand to knot into the expensive fabric of his button down and pull, keeping him close, wipes Hob’s brain clean and nearly forgets why he’s doing this… until Christian clearing his throat makes its way past Hob’s ears.

They detach with a wet gasp and the way Dream chuckles, a low rumble that shoots straight through Hob’s chest and down to his crotch, makes Hob go back for another, and another. Lips only and chaste, but Dream still leans back respectably, turning his head to address the man before them with a sly grin as Hob nuzzles his way instead up his jaw and behind his ear.

“Christian, this is my fiance, Robert Gadling.”

“Uh, hi.” Christian bites out and Hob turns his head just enough to stare him down. “Didn’t know you were engaged.”

“You did.” Dream insists, extending his arm and pushing the empty glass into Christian’s fumbling hand. “You can leave, now.”

With a barely restrained sigh of “whatever,” Christian goes, shaking his head as he does and Dream takes Hob’s face in both his hands, bringing his attention forward.

“Sorry,” Hob cracks a grin. “I know you’re trying to network and he might’ve been some hotshot guy–”

“He was no one,” Dream interjects, his fingers getting in Hob’s gelled and combed back hair and pulling it. “And that was very hot. Thank you for saving me.”

“Anytime,” Hob laughs and Dream pulls him in to taste it.

[winterspiderpurrs]

Picking up the hanger, Bucky looked at the preselected clothes for his photoshoot. People were moving around the house that was rented for the shoot. He put the white dress shirt back on the hanger and moved to go sit on the chair, ready for his hair and makeup.

He is in one of the smaller bedrooms and turned into a make shift dressing room for him. Steve should have been here, but he was back in New York, currently moving back out of the loft.

History always repeats itself. Steve and himself have dated off and on since they were kids. And when his acting career set off, Steve supported him. Became his stylist, and while not his manager, he helps out a lot. Even with his own art career exploding with the extra attention he gets from going to events.

Even when they break up, they remain friends and always seem to fall back with the other. Bucky bought himself a loft during the LAST break up, and this time, it's Steve who has to move out and find a place. They can't do the roommate thing. Learned that lesson.

There was a knock on the door before in came someone Bucky didn’t recognize. Big brown eyes light up when a big smile forms on the brunettes face.

" Hey, Mr. Barnes, I know Amy is coming in soon for hair and makeup, but I wanted to ask before things got settled. "

" Call me Bucky... and ask what?"

" On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being leave the room now and forget my existence, how likely can we cut that hair and give you a totally new look since your now back on the market"

Bucky blinks and then stares at the guy.

" 3.75 and just how do you know my market status?"

The man laughs a little and starts tapping away on his phone. Probably letting Amy, the stylist, know.

" It pays to know, and I'm doing Shuri a favor by filling in for her since Mr. Rogers can't be here."

Bucky snorts and leans back in the chair. He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek as he thinks it over. Steve is gonna be mad if he chopped his hair off...but fuck Steve at this point and for once not literally.

" A favor, huh.... It's just hair. Let's do it."

" Yes! I mean, thanks! I know the long hair look does great, and the beard. But with how much weight you lost, the hair just doesn't... work. I know you're putting back on a healthy amount back on which thank god. This hair cut is gonna make you look so much sharper and once you fill back out for the better your hair will grow with your looks and you will be thanking me when you are getting married in the next two years and oh I'm rambling."

With a small smile on his face, Bucky chuckles before standing up. " Married in two years and with a recent break up? Are you working miracles, too? And I don't even know who I'm talking to."

" Peter, Peter Parker. And how do you feel about something... flashier for wardrobe. "

" Well. Let's shake things up. "

" You won't regret this! Let me bring in what I think will work while Amy does your hair.

"Actor Bucky Barnes unrecognizable"

" Page 5 for insight of Rogers Barnes break up"

Bucky stares down at the phone before answering it.

" Hey Shuri,"

" My favorite white boy, did you get the suit that was delivered?"

" Yeah, I did, thanks."

" Perfect, we will be picking you up for the event. Peter will be happy to know his suit was selected. "

" Peter Parker, right? So he is a fashion designer? He disappeared after the photoshoot. "

" No! He is actually a scientist but he did go to fashion school to when he got bored. We meet at a runway show. So now I get to use him almost exclusively. He can't dress himself, but he can dress others."

" Almost exclusively, huh?"

" Well, one doesn't often turn down Tony Stark,"

Buckys eyebrows raise at that.

" No, they don't.. you don't happen to be -"

" able to give you his number? Ask him yourself. He is coming to the event, too."

[saintsir4n]

5. FIRST DATES

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT

"HOW'S this look?"

Carson stepped out of her room, to show off her date fit. Her hairless legs were the first thing that caught Keelie's attention, her fine v-neck strappy rose-coloured dress was the second. The material accentuated her curves, her stud earrings and cross necklace were perfect accessories. Her relaxed hair was brushed and slicked up in a bun.

She wanted her makeup to look as natural as possible even though glitter coated her eyelids and she had on more lipgloss than usual.

"You lookin' to get some tonight right, how long has it been?" Keelie finally said after picking up her jaw from the wooden floor.

"Shut up," Carson denied, despite wearing her favourite and most scandalous lingerie beneath the dress. "Just 'cause you gotta girl you wanna mock me." She murmured, picking up her sandal heels.

"But for real, you look fine. He's gonna have a heart attack," Keelie cackled, amusing her friend.

Carson winked, "Not before he gives me some."

"I know that's right."

"Where's takin' you?" Keelie questioned, sitting down on the sofa, trying to get all comfy for her night in.

"Cha Cha Cha."

"Cute, he payin'?" She instantly received a deadpan look from Carson, who picked up a bag that matched her shoes.

"I wouldn't be goin' if he weren't. Please I've messed with broke boys before, never again. Brian has a car, money... well as much as me and is easy on the eyes," Carson listed, adjusting her dress.

"But that name..." Keelie said wincing.

Neither of them was the biggest fan but oh well.

"I know, but pet names exist," Carson joked, rolling back her shoulders.

"Thank God, imagine moanin' Bri –" A knock at the door cut off Keelie. "Speak of the blonde devil and he appears at our door."

Carson calmly shuffled over to the door, ignoring her friend's giggling and pulled it open, revealing a beaming Brian whose smile only widened when he saw her.

His eyes dragged from her stunning face to her shoes.

"Like it," Carson showed off her fit, whilst holding onto the door.

"Do I like it?" He gushed, "Shit, it's better than I dreamt."

"You were dreamin' about me? Do I live in your head rent-free?" She flirted, allowing him to come into the house but his hand caught hers on the way in and didn't let go.

"Maybe."

She bit down on her lip, "Maybe huh?."

Keelie gagged from the sofa, though, couldn't help but think they looked very good together. His simple yet effective style complemented the pink that always clung to Carson.

"Eww, get out already, I have a Project Runway marathon to watch," she feigned disgust, turned away and picked up the remote.

Brian didn't even mean to ignore Keelie but his girl — correction Carson, was right there. He nodded at the spunky girl who mockingly smiled at him.

Carson called out behind her, "Call Mia or somethin'."

Keelie groaned,  "Have a nice night, look after my girl Ben Affleck, and wear protection!"

__

Once they got to the restaurant, Brain pushed in her chair, then rounded the table and sat opposite her. They each ordered their food and sipped on their drinks, waiting for it to come. The place seemed to be busy and booming but the paid paid no mind to the noise, the way they lived prepared them enough.

"So how is it, anyways that the — the gang came to be?" Brian asked, wanting to know more about them.

Of course, he wanted to learn Carson, he was already captivated by how she carried herself, how she spoke, laughed and pretty much everything else. Even on the drive over she teased him, pretending to grab the clutch when he was busy being distracted by her beauty. Usually, he was a focused guy but around her... it was different.

"The what?" Carson let out a laugh as she took another sip of her water.

His brows furrowed, "The gang."

"The gang? No, we don't call ourselves a gang."

He leaned forward, "Well, what do you call yourselves then?"

"We're a team. They call themselves a team. Well, I'm sure you've heard me say crew, but just say team."

Brian leaned forward on his elbows, "All right, so how is it that the team came to be?"

"It's a long story."

"I've got time." A smile burst onto his face, waiting for her to tell the story.

Carson sucked in a deep breath, "Well, I never knew my mom. My dad raised me before he got sick..." she trailed off, always finding it hard to talk about her father's illness.

"Hey, you don't have to go on," he gently grabbed her hand from across the table, making her heart flutter.

He reassured her and so she slightly changed the topic.

"My dad spent years workin' at F1 for a while before meetin' Jack Toretto."

His eyes comically widened, "Damn, F1?"

She nodded along, "Yeah, he kept a few things, the toy cars and all that, but most importantly all the skills he learnt stayed with him. He helped Jack with a few things, whilst I was teethin' in the garage. The Toretto siblings looked out for me."

"So they're your family," Brian never realized how close she was to them, it made him think.

"Exactly, since I was in diapers, explains why my Dad made theirs my godfather, vice versa."

"What about Vince? You're close with him right?" Brian went on to ask, only letting go of her hand when their starters were placed on the table.

He missed the feeling, so did Carson, but they had to eat at some point.

"He and Dom were childhood friends. So he saw me like a little sister," she explained and caught the scepticism flash through his sparkly eyes.

"Just a little sister?" He pressed, picking up some plantain from his small plate.

"Yes, just a little sister," she repeated, but it was clear Brian was highly cautious around Vince, "Letty was a different story. We were friends before she caught Dom's attention. She was always into cars. Ever since she was, like, 10 years old. So naturally, you know, Dom always had her attention. And when she turned 16..."

"...She had Dom's attention." Brian finished her sentence and took a sip of his drink.

"Yep," Carson had to look away from him for a second, his smile had her weak in the knees.

It was a good thing she sat down.

Brian asked after chewing on another piece of plantain, "How is it that Jesse fits into the whole thing?"

"Jesse?" Carson repeated, smiling toward the waitress who placed the rest of their food on the table. Brian could see how happy she was with the food. "Well, Jesse and Leon just sort of showed up one night and never left. Like little weeds. Don't get me wrong, I love them. Jesse's like my annoying older brother and Leon is like that cousin who appears everywhere."

"And Keelie, one of my main tormentors?" He humoured.

She chuckled, "She's like my twin. Only older by a year but she got me through a lot, even got me a job at the salon straight outta graduation and let me stay with her."

Brian hummed in acknowledgement, eating his main course, realizing how much Carson had been through even if she didn't say it. Her smile tended to conceal a lot and whether or not it was real, he knew she was a fighter and the team was her family, who fought alongside her.

It made him question a lot.

"So that's your story?" He asked, half of their plates were in their stomachs.

"Yeah, and now it led me to you," she playfully jabbed her forward in his direction.

"Mm-mmm." Brian hummed in disagreement. "No. No." Carson cocked her head to the side, wearing a confused look that he thought was cute, "I think we would've met regardless, would've made sure of it."

She blinked in shock, "You would've?"

"Yeah, Sonny."

The nickname fell from his tongue so effortlessly that she almost missed it.

"Sonny?" Carson repeated, feeling the butterflies in her stomach take flight.

"What, you don't like it?"

Hee face scrunched up her face, doing everything in her power to not look like she was hanging onto his every word but it didn't work.

"It's cute."

"Mmm," he winked at her, then finished most of what was on his plate.

She appreciated he wasn't one of the people who ate with their mouths open or were very messy.

"So what about you, pretty boy? You close with your folks?" She dared to ask, eyes darting to her plate so she missed the alert expression on his face.

"My mom raised me. Dad wasn't really in the picture."

She raised a questioning brow, snapping her gaze back to him, "You didn't know him or...?"

"He would call the cops anytime I came round."

Her eyes doubled in size, shocked to find he looked calm as ever, so she changed the subject.

"Any siblings?"

"None."

She slowly nodded, "That's cool."

Carson noted how short his answers were, but decided not to think about it too much, he's not comfortable talking about his past, she concluded.

"Shit, that reminds me, speaking of families, my dad always wanted to get me some car bling, you know those cartoon sunshine bobble things to hang from the rearview mirror."

"Why don't you get it now?"

"Never know where to find the exact one, and I never have the time," She replied, pursing her lips as ideas popped into his head. The leftover food on his plate got her attention, "You done with your plantain?"

"Yeah, want some?" she nodded, and went to take it but he stabbed his fork into the sweet yet thin delicacy and shook his head, "No, I'll feed it to you," Carson obviously wasn't expecting him to do this. "Open."

After getting over her initial surprise, she ignored the smirk on his face, leaned over and decided to mess with him, by accepting the food, teasing him with a soft moan when she took it in her mouth and even let her eyes flutter for a few seconds.

Brian swallowed the knot in his throat, but that didn't stop the heat from spreading to his cheeks. Fuck, was he flustered, as was she, but she managed to conceal it better.

Carson sensually wiped the corners of her mouth as his fork clattered against his plate.

"Delicious."

Brian sharply exhaled and waved down the waitress, voice coming out a bit squeaky as he exclaimed, "Can we get the bill?!"

__

His mouth captured hers when he pressed her against his living space at Harry's. Their kisses were more passionate than either of them thought, there was a desperate edge to them, needy almost. The drive over to his place was breathtaking, she never felt so safe despite his foot hammering down on the gas pedal.

Carson's gasps and whimpers were music to his ears, only inspiring his hands to move along the flint fabric of her dress and slowly peel it off of her as they stumbled over to his bed, leaving a trail of shoes, her bag, his shirt and pants behind.

Brian's touch was like fresh air, satisfying and she only wanted more. He found every curve, caressing and pinching only drawing more moans from her.

Although neither could see well, the moonlight lit up his bed, showcasing her lingerie, to which he couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Look at me," he demanded, pulling away, resting between her legs, finding the pool of desire he wanted to soak up and consume. Her darkened gaze caught him pulling away her underwear and finding solace between her thighs where he gripped her tighter due to her every moan and kissed after her every gasp. She struggled to keep eye contact but his baby blues were a beacon and his tongue was his tool of pleasure that pulled her closer to her high. He thought that a win was nothing compared to this, not at all. She tugged at his curls, begging for him not to stop and he complied, "God."

It took seconds for her eyes to roll, and her legs to quiver, whilst letting out a silent scream as he stared at her in awe, wishing and needing more from her.

He was relieved of the rest of his clothes as was she, letting her breasts free of the erotic bra and glide against his chest the second he came up to meet her lips again.

She moaned at the taste on his tongue.

"Not bad for a pity date huh?" She playfully groaned at the quip. "You okay?" He wasn't satisfied by her nod, he needed verbal confirmation, "Words."

She shuddered at his demand, "I'm more than okay."

He flashed a smile and looked at her once again. The illuminating moon lit up her brown pools, entrancing him from where he hovered. Just as he was about to take her hands in his, she stopped him.

"No lover boy, get a condom, I swear you wanna trap me, or somethin'."

He licked his lips, still leaning on his arms, "Want me to?"

"Don't — strap up," she practically shoved him away, laughing with him, and although the thought of it was funny, she wasn't ready to be a mom or even sure that she wanted to be one. Brian looked serious after a while, coming back with a condom, he found his place between her legs then he pushed them around his waist as she grabbed onto his biceps. "You good?" She breathlessly questioned after seeing the look in his eyes.

"Have you done — you're not a virgin right?" He cringed at his wording.

She was amused that he was even asking, "No I'm not a virgin."

"I don't wanna hurt you," he mumbled against her lips, ceasing her impending laughter as a warm feeling settled in her chest.

"Oh, well it depends how you put it down," she whispered, and with how he teased her, she couldn't imagine any disappointment. He deeply chuckled at that, glad to receive confirmation and grabbed her hands. With a gentle thrust, Carson sunk further into his bed, consumed by his deep and slow movements, that had her drawing for breath after each moan. "Fuck."

As for first dates, Carson was blown away.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

soo... the ship has sailed officially. carson was willing to spill everything because she trusts brian, will that come back to bite her in the arse? i mean he was very haste and quick with his answers on the date, it's upsetting because people will call her naive for accepting them but she was being kind.

i think they're so cute and properly one of my fave couples to write out of all my stories.

halfway through the story now. next chapter will be a filler, but i loved writing it. simply exploring her bond with him is just so heartwarming but how do you think it will all play out in the end?

[https-harlow]

Fight The Feeling Prologue- Part 7 Celebrations & Realizations

18+ Smut

Summary- You and Jack celebrate your one year anniversary and Jack's birthday with a trip to the Bahamas, the same place he took you for your first date.

Thank you so much to @harlowcomehome for helping me with the smut! I appreciate it so much!

Over the next 4 months, you spent 2 and a half with Jack in Louisville, most of that being over the holidays so it wasn’t odd that neither of you were working. Jack and his friends even convinced you to look at some houses and apartments in the area, but you ultimately decided that it wasn’t the right time. Jack offered to let you move in with him, but even though you had spent the last 2 and a half months practically living with him, you didn’t want him to make a decision like that without putting more thought into it other than just not wanting you to leave.

The month and a half after that was busier for you and Jack. You were traveling for runway shows or photoshoots, Jack started recording his album Come Home The Kids Miss You, and he had the celebrity all star basketball game, which you figured out a way to go to so you could support Jack.   

After the Celebrity basketball game, it was your 1-year anniversary, which was around the same time as Jack’s birthday.  You wanted to celebrate your anniversary and Jack’s birthday separately.  Not because you wanted a specific trip just for your anniversary, but because you didn’t want Jack to have to share his birthday celebration with your anniversary. Jack insisted it was okay, he was going to have his party at home anyways, and with Jack releasing Come Home The Kids Miss You in May, and all the promo he had in April, along with the couple of photoshoots you had, neither of you had time to take two separate trips.

You both took a week off, and even though your trip was partly for Jack’s birthday, he insisted on planning everything, letting you plan a day for his birthday, but he insisted that your anniversary was more important than his birthday. 

Jack planned a trip to the Bahamas, similar to your first date trip, but this time it was for a full week instead of a weekend, and instead of staying in a hotel, Jack rented out a private house on the beach for the two of you. You were both less known a year ago, so you weren’t as worried about being recognized, now you were. 

You two spent the first two days between the beach and the house, enjoying each other’s company with no distractions. You both told your teams to only contact you in if it was an emergency. On the third day was when you planned Jack’s birthday celebration. You wanted it to be a complete surprise, so all you told Jack was to dress up for dinner. 

“Our car is almost here.” You told Jack and he nodded, sitting down on the bed, watching you get ready, he had been ready for a few minutes.

“Okay, I’m ready whenever you are baby.” Jack told you and you nodded.

“Okay, can you help me put my necklace back on please?” You asked, carrying your necklace over to Jack. Jack had been giving you one gift every day of the trip instead of giving you all your gifts at one time, the first day’s gift was a new purse, and the second day’s gift was the diamond necklace you had in your hands. You had taken it off before you both went into the ocean, not wanting to risk anything happening to it.

“Of course.” Jack said, taking the necklace from you and waiting until you turned around to clip it on. Jack pressed a kiss to the back of your neck before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I love you.” Jack said, his lips brushing against your skin.

“I love you too.” You said, turning in his arms to kiss him gently. “Let me put my shoes on and then we can go.” You told him and he nodded. You walked over to where your heels were, putting them on and grabbing your purse.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked, standing up from the bed.

“Just to dinner.” You told Jack and he nodded. “Everyone already signed NDA’s, including the driver, so we don’t have to worry about anything getting out.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of this.” Jack told you.

“I know.” You said, slipping two small, wrapped boxes into your purse as Jack eyed them suspiciously. “But, I wanted to.” You said.

“What are those?” Jack asked as you both started to walk out to the car, Jack resting his hand on your lower back.

“Your presents.” You told him, both of you getting in the car, greeting the driver, but he already knew where to go so Jack didn’t figure out where you were going. 

“Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Jack told you and you smiled softly, tracing patterns on the back of his hand as he rested his hand on your thigh.

“I wanted to. You spoil me all the time, so let me spoil you tonight.” You said. “Plus, I only have half of one of your gifts, the other half is in Louisville.”

“What did you do?” Jack asked and you laughed softly.

“You’ll find out soon.” You smiled softly.

As the car pulled up to the restaurant, Jack looked over at you. 

“I’ve been trying to book this place for a month now for our anniversary, how did you book it?” Jack asked. You had gotten a reservation at one of the fanciest restaurants in the area, with your anniversary being during one of the peak times to travel to the Bahamas, and the fact that you wanted to book the whole restaurant, it wasn’t an easy reservation to get.

“I have my connections.” You smiled softly, grabbing your purse as you and Jack thanked the driver after you got out of the car.

“I have connections too, but not as good as yours clearly.” Jack joked making you laugh.

“Well, I know the owner’s daughter, and I might have told them if anyone under the name Jack Harlow tries to make a reservation, say you can’t do it.” You told Jack and he teasingly shook his head.

“I love you, but damn, I tried absolutely everything I could think of. Had me all stressed out and shit.” Jack said, laughing, kissing you gently once you walked in. 

“Sorry.” You giggled, kissing him once more before you were led to your table by your waiter.

You had rented out the restaurant, so it was just the two of you, other than the few staff members who were working. Once you were both finished with dinner, you decided to give Jack one of his gifts. 

“Ok, so.” You started, sitting back in your chair, Jack sitting across from you, his hand resting on top of yours.” I have two of your gifts here, well, one and a half technically.” You pulled one of the boxes out of your bag. “Technically, this one is for our anniversary.” You said, handing Jack a box. 

“Baby, thank you.” Jack said as he took the box from you. He unwrapped the box before opening it, seeing a Rolex watch inside, pulling it out and seeing the date Jack asked you to be his girlfriend engraved on the inside. “This is so sweet, thank you.” Jack smiled, running his finger over the engraving before you handed him the other box, Jack putting the watch back in the box carefully.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled softly. “This one is technically for your birthday, not that it really matters, but the other part of it is in Kentucky, I couldn’t exactly get it onto the plane.” You said and Jack looked at you suspiciously.

“What did you get?” Jack asked.

“Just open it and see.” You giggled, sitting up, out of all of Jack’s gifts, even though it wasn’t the hardest to get, his third gift was the most time consuming, you were the most excited for this gift. Jack opened the box, seeing what was inside, looking between you and the box a couple times.

“No, I can’t let you get this for me, this is too much.” Jack insisted and you laughed softly. 

“It’s already parked in your driveway.” You told Jack and he continued to look at you in disbelief. 

“You really got me the Jeep?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“I did, it’s the one that when we see one you always talk about how much you want it but you still haven’t bought it for yourself, so I bought it for you.” You said and laughed softly when Jack stood up, walking around the table to hug you.

“I seriously can’t accept it but thank you so much.” Jack said.

“Nope, you’re keeping it, I’m not letting you give it back to me, you deserve it.” You told him, pulling away from the hug to kiss him. Jack continued to kiss you several more times.

“Thank you so much, I don’t even know what to say.” Jack told you and you shook your head.

“You’re welcome, and you don’t have to say anything.” You told Jack and he nodded, kissing you again. 

Later that night, you and Jack were sitting in the living room, when you got up, walking to the bedroom to get his last present. You walked back into the living room, handing him the box.

“What’s this for? My birthday or our anniversary?” Jack teased and you rolled your eyes, laughing.

“The watch was for our anniversary because it has our anniversary date on it, the car was for your birthday because I had planned on giving it to you on your birthday, but I didn’t think I could hide a car in your driveway for that long.” You explained and Jack laughed softly.

“You know, that makes a lot of sense.” Jack said and you shook your head, laughing again. 

“So, this is something I’ve been working on, it’s just a sample product, if there’s anything you want to change you can, I also figured you’d want to order some for your friends, so I can take care of that when I get home.” You told him, Jack was confused at what the gift could be, but he opened it up anyways.

When Jack opened the box, he saw two pairs of custom New Balances, one in red and one in blue with the title of his album embroidered on the back.

“Baby.” Jack said, his eyes tearing up. “This is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me.” Jack said, your eyes tearing up now. “You designed these?” He asked.

“Well, I picked the color and put the album title on the back, but I figured you would want a pair for your friends, so just let me know what sizes and I’ll order them.” You told Jack and he leaned over to kiss you. “Though, you can’t change the album name now.” You joked, and Jack laughed.

“So that’s why you were so adamant about the album name not changing.” Jack said and you nodded, laughing softly. Normally, you wouldn’t have cared what Jack named his album, but once you started planning the shoes, Jack had mentioned changing the album name, which caused you to panic because if he would have, your gift wouldn’t have worked.

“Yeah, and I couldn’t say why without ruining the surprise.” You said. 

“Well, thank you.” Jack said. “I love you, thank you for making me feel appreciated and loved tonight, and every day.” 

“I love you too. That is all I want to do, you make me feel like a literal princess every day, so any time I can make you feel a little extra special is worth it to me.” You told Jack, leaning over to kiss him.

“I’m so glad we got to take this trip together.” Jack said, putting the shoes to the side before pulling you gently to his chest as he leaned back on the couch.

“Me too.” You smiled, kissing Jack softly as you ran your hands through Jack’s hair. Neither of you pulled away until Jack’s phone started to ring. Jack groaned as he grabbed his phone from the couch, seeing Neelam was calling him.

“It better be fucking important.” Jack muttered underneath his breath, making you giggle. “I’ll be right back.” Jack said, as you moved off him. Jack walked into the other room, coming back a few minutes later.

You could tell just by the way he walked back in that he was excited, a major change in his demeanor from when he walked out annoyed.

“Guess what?” Jack asked, holding back his smile.

“What?” You asked, giggling at his happiness.

“I got the part.” Jack said, smiling and you gasped.

“Really?” You asked, and Jack nodded, you smiled, jumping up from the couch almost immediately, hugging Jack as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands going to your butt to hold you up, even though he could have placed his hands on your thighs, Jack never missed an opportunity to place his hands on your butt.

“Really.” Jack smiled as you kissed him.

“I’m so proud of you.” You told him. “You’re going to do amazing. I already know it. Do you know anything else about it?” You asked, you had known Jack was auditioning for the remake of White Men Can’t Jump, but he hadn’t told you much more than that.

“Neelam said that Alexa Demie will be playing my love interest, but that’s all she told me for now. She said we can go over everything else once I get back.” Jack said and you nodded slightly.

Truthfully you weren’t sure how to feel about that, you knew it was just acting, just a role Jack was playing, but he had just said in an interview before you left that Alexa Demie was one of his top celebrity crushes. You trusted Jack, but you knew fans would go crazy with rumors. 

“I’m so happy for you.” You said, kissing Jack. “You deserve this. You’re officially a movie star.” Jack placed you down on the couch before sitting down next to you.

“A movie star huh?” Jack asked and you nodded. 

“My movie star.” You told him, and even though Jack would never admit it, your saw him blush.

“Hm, I like the sound of that.” Jack said pulling you back on top of him so you could lay on his chest. “Come with me?” Jack asked.

“What?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at Jack.

“Come with me. I know we’ve been talking about you moving in with me, or at least moving to Kentucky, but I’ll be in L.A. filming for a couple months, so instead of you moving to Kentucky just for me to leave, you should come to L.A. with me. I’ll rent a house, probably not as fancy as this one, because this cost a lot more than I thought it would.” Jack joked, making you laugh softly. “But we’ll be able to be together. A lot of your work is in L.A. right now anyways, so instead of getting hotel rooms, let’s just rent a house.

“You know.” You smiled softly. “I did just sign that lease at the last apartments we looked at.” You told Jack.

“Really?” Jack asked excitedly and you nodded. 

“I did, just for a couple months until we figure out what we want to do, but we both liked it, so I figured we could decide if we wanted to move into that apartment or yours. We can figure that out once we come back from L.A. because I’ll come with you.” You told Jack, who smiled even bigger if that was even possible. 

“I really am the luckiest man ever.” Jack said, his hand rubbing your back. 

On the last day of your trip, you and Jack had been running along the shore, for the last hour or so. You were collecting seashells and he watched you with adoration. 

You looked over at him, seeing his goofy smile plastered across his freckled faced. “What? What’re you looking at?” You smiled. 

“I just like the way that bikini hugs you.” He wiggled his eyebrow at you, you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“You do?” You stood on your tiptoes in the sand kissing his slightly sunburned lips. He deepened your kiss, his hands migrating to your butt, just like you knew they would. 

You giggled against him, as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. “What if I did this?” He smirked as he untied your top with one hand. 

“Jackman!” You gasped quickly pressing your breasts against his chest. 

“It’s a private beach baby.” He rasped. 

“Nothing private about the way you moan.” You winked, and he didn’t disagree as he walked you up the stairs and into the private beach house. 

“Shower?” You asked in a breathless tone. 

The two of you undressed one another quickly as the sand granules hit the floor. You were fixated on his toned arms and fit figure. You ran your hands through his messy curls as you waited for the water to get warm, your naked bodies pressed against one another as you continued to sloppily kiss. 

Jack walked the two of you into the shower, you weren’t able to do anything before he started to play with you. He had cornered you against the wall, facing him so he could watch as he took you by surprise. 

“Like that?” 

“Feels, feels good.” You moaned as he lifted your leg against his hip, making sure you didn’t lose balance as he continued to rub soft circles against your clit. 

“I just want to make sure you remember our last night here in the Bahamas.” He placed sloppy kisses against your temples as his curls continued to be completely soaked in water. 

You two hurriedly washed the sun and sand off your skin before quickly wrapping yourselves in towels and making it to the bedroom. 

“Sit” Jack commanded and you weren’t going to argue, you sat on the edge of the bed, he kneeled below you, his eyes still focused on you. 

“Jack, you don’t have to, let’s just fu-“ 

“Shhhh.” He put his finger to your lips. He leaned you back with the touch of his hand, using the other to spread your legs. 

At first, he made small strides across your folds, teasing you as his beard rubbed against your thighs. It was slightly painful but thrilling nonetheless. He sucked on your clit, he did it so softly that you could’ve come right there. Your fingers were entangled in his curls, he liked when you’d pull on them and you knew that by his growing erection. 

“Baby, I need you.” You moaned, knowing he loved the sound of that. “Tell me how much” he smirked as he stood up. 

“Stop playing.” You giggled as he left wet kisses against your neck and collarbones, you were tired of his teasing and decided it was your turn now. 

You intertwined your hands. “Lay down.” You switch positions as you kept eye contact with him. 

“Let’s start with missionary since you’re so pretty.” You said half-jokingly.

“Well, I didn’t get the nickname missionary Jack because it’s my favorite position, but because I’m pretty so everyone wants to fuck me like that.” He smirked knowing you’d laugh but secretly love the sound of that. 

You straddled him, allowing him to stretch you out slowly. You threw your head back, making your breasts bounce. His dick twitched inside you as you felt his hip bones press into your thighs. 

You started slow, spelling your name as you continued to ride him. 

“You’re a tease.” He rasped as he changed positions on you.

You have no idea how you ended up bent over the balcony railing, looking out to the ocean while Jack fucked you, but you weren’t going to complain. It was your anniversary, and you deserved to watch the sunset while you orgasm. 

“Baby, you look so pretty.” He moaned, you knew he was close when he wouldn’t stop rambling. “Beautiful, take this dick.” He started to noticeably change the rhythm. He was thrusting into you, you kept your balance on the ledge of the deck. 

You wrap your legs around him, and he picked you up, thrusting into you mid-air as best as he could, you gripped onto him going as fast as you could. 

He almost lost balance as he filled you up, his semen dripping down your legs as you climbed off of him. 

“Nice sunset hmm?” You smiled.

“Yeah, the sunset’s totally what I’m looking at.” Jack laughed softly, reaching his hand down between your legs to collect some of his cum on his finger, holding it up as you wrapped your lips around his finger. A moment later Jack pulled his fingers slowly out of your mouth.

“I’ll be right back baby, stay here.” Jack told you, kissing the top of your head gently before making his way back into the house. You turned back to face the beach, sighing softly as you did, leaning into the railing.

In this moment you truly felt like you had everything, and not in some stuck up way where you thought you were better then everyone, you were just truly happy. You rarely had time to yourself, so you spent the few minutes Jack was inside reflecting on your life.

You had the career you wanted since you were a kid, you had the relationship that a year and a half ago was nothing more than something you dreamt about at night, you had everything that you had wanted your whole life. You had never been happier, you never wanted it to go away, you would do anything to stay as happy as you were in this moment.

“Damn, now this is a view I could get used to. Seeing you bent over like that is going to make me want to fuck you again. I should have fucked you against the railing the first night, then we would have been out here every night.” Jack said as you turned to see him now in sweatpants.��

“You always want to fuck me. And I guess that means we’ll just have to come back.” You said and Jack nodded in agreement. 

“As much as I love seeing you naked, it’s getting cold out here, and I don’t want you to get sick.” Jack said, slipping one of his shirts over your head.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, tilting your head up to kiss Jack.

“Come here.” Jack said, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs, his hands on your waist guiding you to his lap. Jack leaned back so you could both watch the sunset. “We can clean up later, right now I just want to watch the sunset with my girl.” Jack rested his hand on your hip.

“I love you.” You told Jack, your back to his chest, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“I love you too.” Jack said, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

You and Jack spent the last night of your trip staying up way to late because neither of you wanted it to end. You ended up falling asleep first, around two in the morning, but Jack couldn’t sleep.

Similar to how on your first trip to the Bahamas where Jack realized he loved you, Jack realized on this trip that he wanted to marry you. Jack spent most of the night looking for an engagement ring before he eventually sent a text to a custom jeweler that he had worked with previously and knew wouldn’t leak anything, asking for information about getting a custom engagement ring made.  

Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree

[shroombloomm]

Prologue

tw: mentions of ed, anxiety, depression, & irregular eating.

• • •

Lights.

Cameras.

All the attention on me.

I craved it from an early age. Cheryl, my mom, always told me I was an attention seeker. She never meant it negatively, it just meant that I could control a room, or have heads turn when I walked into one. In this case, I truly did make heads turn.

I wore a dress that cost more than our rent. The moment I stepped onto the runway, I heard the people start to clap for me. I was taught not to smile even if I wanted to. It was about the clothes, not about me, but I couldn’t lie–I knew my fans when I saw them.

Step by step, the cheering got louder. The louder the crowd, the more I felt alive. I’d somehow got addicted to this feeling, I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t live for others' validations. I worked hard to get where I was, at some point I believed that if the noise ever stopped…I’d die.

A piece of me chips away each time I leave the stage.

Throughout the years, I never realized how many pieces seemed to break away until I just got…tired.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to model anymore.

Modeling was easy until it wasn’t anymore. Nobody told me about the strict diets, waking up incredibly early to work out with a personal trainer, and the amount of time I had to put into myself every single day. If I wasn’t neat, I wasn’t clean. If I wasn’t lean, I wasn’t perfect. People would think that I had it easy, but it was far from.

When I was five, I wasn’t a small kid. I was chubby and more than okay with that. It was until I started performing that the girls around me started to have an influence on me. I realized that my body wasn’t like others, that my stomach poked out rather than not.

Nobody should’ve ever felt that way about their body at that age. Cheryl used to tell me that I wouldn’t eat after school when I came home. Of course, I didn’t remember, but I took her word for it. As any active kid, I lost weight as I grew up, and I was suddenly more appealing to others. The people who wouldn’t speak to me in school started speaking to me, and boys began looking at me.

Things started to look different when I turned eight. Parents awed over how cute I was and boys would pass me notes in class. I think my mom started to realize how much potential I had when I started getting invited to events, or to be a part of things at school. As any mother would, she thought I was beautiful no matter what; but when the money started coming in from pageants she realized that I had some things that people didn’t.

Seventeen years old, I’d been doing this since I was a kid. Cheryl enjoyed showing off her pretty little girl and I loved smiling and waving to the crowd. I took any role I could get, whether it be a main role in a play, or a centerpiece in the cheerleading squad. I learned how to sing opera, and learned how to dance ballet.

None of that ever prepared me for being a part of the industry.

I was sitting at an afterparty crowded with people that I shared the stage with, yet didn’t even personally know. These parties always seemed fun in hindsight, but I’d never felt so insecure before. I was surrounded by the famously known people, they had worked hard, or not at all, for what they had.

When I was younger, I believed that I would be in the middle of these crowds, talking to everyone. Having everyone gawk over me, compliment me. A stupid, stupid daydream of being the it girl. Yet, I sat in the corner booth away from everyone. Each glance towards me felt like a wound to my chest. I couldn’t think about how the room was starting to close in on me either, I had to take deep breaths through my dry martini.

Cheryl left my side, I didn’t notice how long she’d been gone for. All I knew was that I was desperate for anyone to come sit next to me so I didn’t look like a complete and utter loser. I fixed a piece of my sparkly black dress, brushing the thick curls from my face as my eyes wandered around the room.

I seemed to lock eyes with someone for mere moments, and when I tore my gaze away he stalked his way towards me. I was a bubbly person, but years of being picked apart by magazines started to dull me down. Each person I spoke with, I believed that they were judging me in their heads. Many times I had to excuse myself from a conversation to cry in the bathroom due to stress and anxiety. I was so young.

So when the man sat at my booth, I had to force a smile and seem confident. He looked rich and that was intimidating in itself. Sure, me and Cheryl made more money, but we still rented. We didn’t have much of anything, but we enjoyed pretending that we were rich for the night.

This man had black hair slicked back, a shiny, large watch on his wrist and a crisp blue suit that complimented the tan color of his skin. I tried not to stare into his deep blue eyes as I sat my martini down, turning myself towards him to greet him.

“What is a pretty girl doing here all by herself?” He spoke before I could, hiding his smirk behind the crystal glass of brown liquid.

“Me?” I pointed towards myself, then dropped my hand into my lap, “Oh, I mean…I mean, I’m waiting on someone.”

The way his eyes scraped over me made my skin crawl, not in a good way either. I shifted my weight once more, suddenly wishing I had a shawl of some sorts to cover myself.

“I saw you earlier. On the runway,” He didn’t acknowledge the way he made me visibly uncomfortable, “You’re talented. I’m shocked that you’re not on a bigger scale like everyone else here.”

“Oh, thank you…” I drew out, hiding the hiding on my face with my martini glass, “I just enjoy being able to be at events like this. It’s such an honor to be in a room full of talented people.”

His fingers scratched his jawline as he chuckled quietly, then took a heavy sip of his drink. He sighed happily, setting his drink down on the table.

“I’m Harris,” He introduced himself, “Harris Moon.”

“Margot Miller,” I forced another bright smile.

Once again I was searching the room for Cheryl. The night wasn’t seeming to end, the last time I’d looked at the clock it was almost midnight and my ankles were killing me from these heels. I was exhausted, ready for my mom to come back and whisk me away back home where I could wash the mask off of me and go to sleep.

“Are you signed onto a label, Margot?” Harris drew his finger around the rim of his glass, “Surely someone’s had to take a pretty girl like you.”

I swallowed thickly, searching the room once more, then setting my eyes on him.

“My mom, Cheryl, she’s–,” I tried not to sigh as I said it, so I fixed my shoulders and stretched a smile so wide that it hurt the corners of my lips, “She’s my manager. Unofficially, of course. We’ve been solo for a while, we are just really happy to be where we are.”

Harris nodded, meeting my gaze, “You’ve got talent, Margot Miller,” He pointed at me, leaning closer, “Someone ought to pick you up. That’s why I want to talk to you about signing you to my label.”

I gave him a look, but I couldn’t decipher if it was a look of shock or sadness. I was seventeen years old, already exhausted from living the path that I chose. The reason we hadn’t signed onto a label was because I’d always chased them off before Cheryl could come running to talk to them. I was fearful that he’d overstayed his welcome until she came back to the table.

“I’ll have my manager contact you,” I stood from the table, smoothing my dress down, “I think it’d be worth looking over.”

I offered him a smile as he slid his card. However, I wasn’t fast enough to yank it away and leave the table. Across the room, Cheryl came into view, and she set her eyes on Harris who was sitting next to me. A piece of me chipped away. My throat felt dry.

“Is that your manager?” Harris asked slyly with a smirk.

I couldn’t make myself answer, even if I wanted to. Cheryl approached the table in her pretty white pantsuit, pearls hanging around her neck, and curls tightly tucked with her matching pearl clip in her dirty blonde hair. Her lips stretched into a smile, darting her eyes between the two of us.

“If I knew we were to have company, I would’ve ordered more drinks for the table. I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand on her chest.

Harris rose to his feet, taking my mom’s free hand to shake. The scene before me made my hands shake, the exhaustion made it seem like a bad fever dream.

“No need to apologize, Cheryl. My name is Harris Moon. I watched Margot walk tonight, may I say that you’ve trained your daughter well?” He squeezed her hand, then let it fall to his side.

“Harris Moon? With Moon Modeling?”

I knew that look from anywhere. A sparkle in her eye. She was hungry, ironically enough they shared the same look. Doubtful that the hunger was for me, but for what I could make him in dollars. The two of them sat down to speak business and I felt my weight buckle under me and my bottom hit the seat with them. I reached for another martini on the table.

By the end of the night, Cheryl and Harris came to an agreement while I sat pretty between the two of them.

The drive home was quiet and my head was spinning. I pulled my knees to my chest as I watched the city lights pass by. Cheryl seemed happy, yet never asked me how I felt about it. I almost felt guilty telling her that I couldn’t do this anymore. There were many times where I’d hinted at stopping, but then she would hint that we wouldn’t be able to pay rent if it wasn’t for me.

I sucked in a deep breath and asked, “How long is the contract?”

There was a beat of silence, then I turned my head to Cheryl as she glanced towards me out of the corner of her eyes.

“Four years.”

I was locked in. Trapped, I felt anxiety rush through me. When the tears started to pool around my eyes, I turned my head once more to look out at the city lights. I blew out a slow breath, closing my eyes as the coolness from the window calmed my hot head.

“What’s wrong, honey? Aren’t you happy?”

My shoulders shook as I let out a silent cry, then sniffled. I wiped my eyes, turning towards her and forced the same smile that I’d been for a couple years.

“I’m so happy.”

[instructionsnotincluded]

Do you have a snippet of Logan getting jealous we could see? If not, could we see Rafe getting jealous/territorial?

Oooooh. Ok—ok, I see you. 😆😉

18 + MDNI | language, mentions of sex, jealousy, self deprecation.

Logan could feel the muscles in her arms working as she shook the cocktail shaker, scanning the area like she normally did, taking a mental count of the amount of people, who had drinks, who didn’t, and who would be approaching soon. She used to scan for attractive guys who might hand over a few more bills if she flirted or smiled at them, but due to the man about thirty feet away, leaning against one of the high top tables, she didn’t have much interest in doing that tonight.

He looked good, dressed in all black, the shiny tuxedo stripe along the side of his pants catching in the light. He wore his rings, the same ones that had left light indentations along her inner thigh the night before, but it was the small gold band he had on his pinky that made her heart palpitate.

“What’s with the smile?”

Logan glanced over at Amy, watching her friend lift a carefully sculpted eyebrow, “Nothing. Just thinking of a funny story.”

“Uh-huh,” Amy rolled her eyes but left it alone, knowing that when Logan latched on to a secret, it would be a cold day in hell before she spilled, “whatever you say, Lo.”

Logan busied herself with pouring the blush colored liquid, handing it off to one of the waiting servers and as she took a few seconds to breathe and wipe down the bar, she did a double take back in Rafe’s direction.

He was talking with a few guys she knew he’d gone to school with, but it was the beautiful blonde approaching that kept her attention. She was tall, nearly as tall as Rafe in the Louboutins she wore and Logan bit her lip hard as she watched the girl slide her hand along Rafe’s bicep, the other two guys he was in mid-conversation with offering a friendly smile and greeting. Clearly they all knew each other and it was then that reality slammed into her harder than anything she’d ever experienced.

Her stomach dropped and heart lurched, her neck heating too quickly as she realized she wasn’t part of that world. And no matter how many times Rafe paid for a nice dinner or fixed her car, she never would be.

The woman, who was currently resting her beautifully manicured hand along Rafe’s shoulder as they all spoke, was gorgeous. Her hair was highlighted flawlessly, curled to perfection down her back in a way Logan was almost sure she hadn’t seen since she watched the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Her makeup was expertly applied, the winged eyeliner identical and sharp on both sides, her lipstick the perfect shade of red to match her skin tone. Logan ran her eyes down the woman, taking in the way the black sequined dress both hung off and hugged her figure as if the dress itself was made for her, the muscles in her legs some that would rival those of any runway model.

Logan could see her jewelry from here, could see that it was designer, each piece more than her monthly rent, hell, the scratch and scuff free red-bottoms punctuated her wealth.

She was very well the opposite of everything Logan had to offer. Fading brown box dye covered her strands with roots that were starting to become an issue, eyeliner that never looked like the same person applied it, let alone identical, and costume jewelry that no doubt was turning Rafe’s finger green with each passing second.

“Are you alright?” Logan inhaled sharply, eyes finding Amy as her friend set down the jigger she was using, a heavy frown crossing her forehead, “Lo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Logan’s response was too quick, too watery, the underwire of the new bra she bought for tonight digging uncomfortably into her ribcage and making it hard to take a deep breath, “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” Amy glanced around, as if she were trying to figure out what set her normally unshakable friend off, “Is it Chris? I was afraid he’d be here—”

“No,” Logan shook her head, “no. God no. I haven’t seen him.”

“Then—”

“I um—” Logan ran a hand along the back of her neck, feeling the warm and sweaty skin, “Can I take five? I need a cigarette.”

“I thought you were trying to quit—“

“Amy.” Logan inhaled sharply, “please. Just let me take a fucking minute.”

Amy nodded and Logan almost died of embarrassment right there when she turned around right into a server carrying a tray of empty glasses. Two or three knocked into each other, and despite him trying to catch them, two more plummeted to the ground before shattering into several pieces, everyone in the area, including Rafe and his friends, turning to look at the scene.

Logan closed her eyes tightly. “Fuck.”