#Handbags Industry
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trendynewsnow · 1 month ago
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Simon Porte Jacquemus: From Chiquito Handbag to Global Expansion
Chiquito Handbag and Ambitions of Simon Porte Jacquemus The 3.3-inch-long Chiquito handbag, a signature piece from Simon Porte Jacquemus, has become a symbol of his innovative spirit, yet it stands in stark contrast to the expansive vision he holds for his brand. At just 34 years old, Mr. Jacquemus has made a significant mark on the fashion industry since founding his namesake label in Paris 15…
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sports9885 · 10 months ago
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 Data Bridge Market Research analyzes that the global leather handbags market is expected to reach USD 3,696.4 thousand by 2031, which is USD 2,491.1 thousand in 2023, registering a CAGR of 5.1% during the forecast period of 2024 to 2031.
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luxury-leather · 1 year ago
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reasonsforhope · 11 months ago
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It’s an open secret in fashion. Unsold inventory goes to the incinerator; excess handbags are slashed so they can’t be resold; perfectly usable products are sent to the landfill to avoid discounts and flash sales. The European Union wants to put an end to these unsustainable practices. On Monday, [December 4, 2023], it banned the destruction of unsold textiles and footwear.
“It is time to end the model of ‘take, make, dispose’ that is so harmful to our planet, our health and our economy,” MEP Alessandra Moretti said in a statement. “Banning the destruction of unsold textiles and footwear will contribute to a shift in the way fast fashion manufacturers produce their goods.”
This comes as part of a broader push to tighten sustainable fashion legislation, with new policies around ecodesign, greenwashing and textile waste phasing in over the next few years. The ban on destroying unsold goods will be among the longer lead times: large businesses have two years to comply, and SMEs have been granted up to six years. It’s not yet clear on whether the ban applies to companies headquartered in the EU, or any that operate there, as well as how this ban might impact regions outside of Europe.
For many, this is a welcome decision that indirectly tackles the controversial topics of overproduction and degrowth. Policymakers may not be directly telling brands to produce less, or placing limits on how many units they can make each year, but they are penalising those overproducing, which is a step in the right direction, says Eco-Age sustainability consultant Philippa Grogan. “This has been a dirty secret of the fashion industry for so long. The ban won’t end overproduction on its own, but hopefully it will compel brands to be better organised, more responsible and less greedy.”
Clarifications to come
There are some kinks to iron out, says Scott Lipinski, CEO of Fashion Council Germany and the European Fashion Alliance (EFA). The EFA is calling on the EU to clarify what it means by both “unsold goods” and “destruction”. Unsold goods, to the EFA, mean they are fit for consumption or sale (excluding counterfeits, samples or prototypes)...
The question of what happens to these unsold goods if they are not destroyed is yet to be answered. “Will they be shipped around the world? Will they be reused as deadstock or shredded and downcycled? Will outlet stores have an abundance of stock to sell?” asks Grogan.
Large companies will also have to disclose how many unsold consumer products they discard each year and why, a rule the EU is hoping will curb overproduction and destruction...
Could this shift supply chains?
For Dio Kurazawa, founder of sustainable fashion consultancy The Bear Scouts, this is an opportunity for brands to increase supply chain agility and wean themselves off the wholesale model so many rely on. “This is the time to get behind innovations like pre-order and on-demand manufacturing,” he says. “It’s a chance for brands to play with AI to understand the future of forecasting. Technology can help brands be more intentional with what they make, so they have less unsold goods in the first place.”
Grogan is equally optimistic about what this could mean for sustainable fashion in general. “It’s great to see that this is more ambitious than the EU’s original proposal and that it specifically calls out textiles. It demonstrates a willingness from policymakers to create a more robust system,” she says. “Banning the destruction of unsold goods might make brands rethink their production models and possibly better forecast their collections.”
One of the outstanding questions is over enforcement. Time and again, brands have used the lack of supply chain transparency in fashion as an excuse for bad behaviour. Part of the challenge with the EU’s new ban will be proving that brands are destroying unsold goods, not to mention how they’re doing it and to what extent, says Kurazawa. “Someone obviously knows what is happening and where, but will the EU?”"
-via British Vogue, December 7, 2023
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msgexymunson · 1 year ago
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Dr E. Munson, D.D.S
Description: praise from your dentist is the last thing you thought would stoke your passions. During another meeting, intoxicated after surgery, you accidently tell him how he makes you feel. 
Warnings: Fluff, angst and smut, my favourite trio. NSFW Minors DNI, reader mid 20s and Eddie mid to late 30s but not explicitly stated, no real time given implied 90s but written as open, reader is AFAB, no use of Y/N, tooth extraction (don’t worry it's not gory), little to no knowledge of the dental industry (please don't come for me I tried my best), fem oral receiving, overstimulation, massive praise kink, p in v protected sex.
A/N: Well, the tale of my praise kink being activated at the dentist appears to have struck a chord with you all, so as unbelievable as this is, just go with it. Eddie's a dentist. Not just a dentist, but a soft pleasure dom dentist ;) I tried to make it believable!! Also, I can't write short fics anymore. I gotta get elaborate before I get into the good ole porn. 
🖤 Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood, please reblog if you want me to keep writing, it really makes my day sweethearts. 🖤
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Fidgeting restlessly with your rings, your leg shakes compulsively as you sit in the sterile waiting room. You really wish you didn't have to go through this alone, but your best friend Alex is working and you are far too old to be going to the dentist with your mom. 
Needs must, though. Yesterday, whilst you were eating one of your nieces candy suckers of all things, you bit down and shattered a wisdom tooth. Just thinking about it you can see Dr Burke's stern face, with his ridiculously bushy eyebrows and wrinkled frown, telling you off for eating too much sugar. 
When the perky receptionist calls your name and instructs you to go to room 2, you're a wobbling bubble of nerves. Walking over the cheap linoleum on click clack heels, you pause for a moment outside the door in confusion. 
The little plaque on the wooden door is different. It used to hold old Dr Burke's name on it, but it's changed. 
Dr E. Munson, D.D.S.
Swinging the door open, you see a much younger man sitting on a swivel stool looking over some notes. His hair is long and wavy, so long he's scraped it into a low ponytail, and there's a sprinkle of stubble over his face. As he looks up, you're met with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you've ever seen. And is that, an eyebrow piercing? He flashes a grin, one filled with such mischief that for a second you forget why you're here. 
“Well hello! You must be my next patient. Take a seat right here.” 
He pats the treatment chair but you still stand gormlessly by the door. 
“You're not Dr Burke.”
Well done idiot, state the obvious.
“Seems your eyesights OK.” 
He shoots a wink at you which immediately turns your insides to jello. 
“Dr Burke retired actually. I'm Dr Munson, I just moved to the city. You can call me Eddie.” 
He extends a hand out to you. Shuffling forward in your pencil skirt you click your way over to him and take his hand. It's huge, enveloping your own, but he holds your hand with care and shakes it very gently. 
He lets go to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on. 
“You know you don't have to dress up to go to the dentist, but it's appreciated.” 
Is he flirting with me? 
“I-I was at work this morning.” 
You perch on the seat and pull your legs up, sliding your handbag to the floor. 
“So, what seems to be the problem?” 
“I was, well…” 
“It's OK sweetheart, I ain't gonna tell you off.” 
Sweetheart? Oh Holy Shit. 
You found yourself clenching your toes in your heels. This guy is far too hot to be a dentist.
“I was eating a sucker and I, well, I bit down, broke my back right wisdom tooth. It shattered.”
He scoots his stool towards you and instructs you to open your mouth. As he examines you he hums, feeling inside your mouth with a gloved hand. 
“Yup, that's broken up alright. I'm sorry, that must be painful. Don't worry, I'll do my best to help. I'm gonna do an x-ray, that OK?” 
“Yeah.” 
Pulling a little plastic T instrument from his desk, he wheels back over.
“Now, this is going to be uncomfortable, and I'm real sorry. Open your mouth and I'll slide it in gently.” 
Face flickering a violent shade of red, you nod. Surely he's aware of how this sounds?
“OK, open wide, that's it.” 
He puts the little contraption in your mouth.
“OK, now bite down. I know, it's uncomfortable. It'll just take a second. That's it, just breathe for me.” 
It's not intolerable but it's not exactly nice. A moment before it would have been too much he takes it out. 
“That's it, did so good for me. Well done sweetheart.” 
Now, this is not the fucking time to have these sorts of feelings. A heat had started  spreading between your legs that you haven't felt for quite some time. 
“Hmm,” Eddie said as he looked at the x-ray, “I definitely need to remove those pieces. I'm a bit concerned about the tooth above it. That's got a cavity, it'll need to be removed, but it'll need surgery I'm sorry to say.” 
“Surgery? Oh God.” 
“Hey, it'll be alright. I'd do it now but it's too risky. Never had to go into surgery before?” 
Laughing nervously, you fiddle with your fingers. 
“I've never had a tooth removed! I'm a tooth removal virgin.” 
The words just flew out and there was nothing you could do to pull them back. Eddie leaned in a little, a cheeky glint in his eye. 
“Well, then I'll be extra gentle.” 
A stare that's a fraction too long, and he scoots back over to his desk. Not long after he's got a needle in his hand.
“Now, I'm gonna need to numb the area, and this is going to be painful. But once this is done, that's the worst of it. If you need me to stop at any point, you just raise your hand. That OK?” 
“Sure, do what you need to.”
“Atta girl, so brave for me. Open your mouth wide.” 
My good God this man and his words; you can picture yourself on your knees in front of him as he says the same things.
Atta girl, take it a little deeper, that's it, so good for me… 
Squirming hotly in your seat, you do as instructed and his gloved fingers invade your mouth once more. 
“OK, you're gonna feel a sharp scratch, it'll go on for a few seconds, doing it now… good girl.” 
As he says ‘good girl’ two things happen. He injects your gum, and you flood your panties. The pain is inconsequential at this point, you just want him to keep talking to you like that.
“OK, one more sweetheart… that's it, so brave, look at you, taking it so well.” 
He stares at you with those soft brown eyes and once again you forget entirely why you're here. 
“Now, you should start to feel your lips tingle, it'll mean it's working.” 
Your dirty mind can't help but think; which lips? 
As a numbness invades your mouth, you let him know. 
“Yeah, it's definitely working.”
“Good stuff. Now, I'm gonna feel in your mouth again, OK?”
You nod, beyond words, and he puts his fingers in your mouth. 
“Now, if you need me to stop, what do you do?” 
Sheepishly you hold your hand up.
“That's it, atta girl. Such a good listener.” 
Nothing you can do but beam inwardly at the praise.
“Now, you can feel me right here, but there should be no pain, yeah?” 
Resisting the urge to moan around his fingers, you make a sound akin to a muffled ‘uhuh’.
“Awesome, now just hold still, you'll hear some crunching and feel pressure, and then it'll be done.” 
As he pulls a shiny implement from a tray and starts working the tooth shards from your mouth, you focus on his forehead, at the look of total concentration. How the lines on his forehead furrow. How his beautiful eyes harden slightly. How his perfect pink tongue dips out… 
“All done.” 
“Huh?” 
He laughs, a rich, bubbling thing, and nods.
“Yup. You're good. Need to make an appointment at the desk for the other tooth though.”
“Will you be doing that?” 
It rushes out in a blather which you can't control. 
“Sure thing sweetheart. Just ask at the desk for me.” 
“OK. Thanks.” 
“Not a problem. Got to be there for my favourite patient.” 
He flashes another wink at you which seems to rush straight to your knees as you get up and leave on newborn foal legs. Reaching the door, you hear his voice ring out behind you. 
“And what should we do with suckers next time?” 
Turning to face him, he raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response with the most serious expression he's given you so far. 
“I should… suck?” 
“Yeah you should.” 
A mind altering grin later and he's turning back to his desk. 
I should suck? What the hell is wrong with you! You need to get laid like, yesterday.
********************
It's a couple of weeks later and you're laying in the most unflattering hospital gown known to man with your best friend Alex who is trying to distract you. 
“Honey, you'll be fine, they're putting you under! It's like, free drugs!” 
You laugh at his antics, smiling with nerves. 
“It's not the surgery, its-” 
You hear mumbling in the doorway, two nurses gossiping in what they must think is out of earshot. 
“Did you hear? Dr Munsons performing the surgery?” 
“Yeah, he's not even supposed to be here. I hear Dr Stevens is pissed.” 
As they walk away, continuing their whispering, you look over to Alex who is smirking at you. 
“Oh, so he's not even supposed to be here? Ooh he likes you!” 
You blush, thinking about the other day. 
“No! I… I asked for him, that's all. You know I don't like this sort of shit.”
“Ah, so you thought Dr Dreamy would make it bearable huh?” 
“Shut up!” 
Dr Munson walks in then, smiling that smile that held a firm grip on your panties. Alex's eyes widen as he mouths the word ‘hot’ to you. You subtly nod your agreement and then smile at Eddie.
“Well, fancy seeing you here.” 
“Couldn't stay away,” you respond, rolling your eyes. He chuckles back and looks you up and down. 
“I told you sweetheart, no need to get dressed up for me.” 
“What, this old thing?”
You share a laugh whilst Alex's eyebrows raise practically through the roof. This is clearly crossing some line, this banter between you, but he's the doctor and he started it. 
Soon, the procedure has been explained and they're wheeling you out of there and putting you under anaesthesia. 
“OK, good job, such a brave girl. Now, countdown from ten for me.”
“Ten, nine, eight…” 
********************
Blinking bleary-eyed, you look around and catch the eye of your friend. 
“She's awake! You OK?” 
You are OK. In fact, you're fantastic. 
“I'm great! M'I goin’ in surgery now?” 
“You've been, it's done! It's all fine.”
“Huh?” 
A fantastically handsome man walks in, entirely distracting you. Long hair, sparkling eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a slender tall frame. He's so hot. Wait, you can just say he's hot, right? 
“Wow, wh'ryou? You're suuuper hot.” 
He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. 
“I'm Dr Munson, remember? Eddie. The er, drugs will wear off soon.” 
“Eddie!” 
You sit up immediately, despite the hands that shoot out to keep you still. 
“Now, take it easy, the ketamine makes people act a little funny. How are you feeling?”
“M’great! All… floaty like. S’good shit.” 
Eddie laughs as Alex holds his head in his hands. 
“Good to hear. It'll wear off soon, I'm sure your boyfriend will take good care of you.” 
“Nooo he's n’my’boyfrien’. He's suuuper gay. Ya’single? I no’had- not had any for nine months!” 
Alex pipes up. 
“Honey, you know I love you, so much, but you need to shut your mouth.” 
Eddie laughs, flashing his perfect teeth. 
“He's got a point. Glad you're doing good, the surgery went smoothly, so you'll be good to go in a few minutes.”
“Thank's'much Eddie. God, you're s’gorgeous. Did I do good?” 
Eddie looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. 
“Course you did. The best. That's why you're my favourite patient.”
Holding your hand up to your mouth and doing the worst stage whisper known to man, you look at Alex. 
“See? Tol’ ya, his wors’ make me wet.” 
“...aaaand that's the line. Thanks for taking care of her Dr Munson, I'll get her home safe.” 
With protests from you, Eddie shuffles awkwardly out of the room. After a little while you're discharged, with Alex promising to look after you until you're back to normal.
********************
The strong coffee aroma assaults your nostrils; you take a massive inhale of your cup as if the caffeine could be absorbed by smell alone. The coffee shop was busy this Saturday morning but you'd managed to carve out your little comfy seat and tiny table so you can work on your writing. It was a relief after the busy week you've had to actually focus on something you love. 
The noises and chatter of the place wash over you as you zone out, thinking of how to handle the plot twist coming up. It needed to be thoughtful, but unforced, as if the characters… 
“Well, if it isn't my favourite patient.” 
“Huh?” 
You look up and see a very familiar pair of eyes. Eddie. The rest of him however, looks very different. 
Eddie's in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, worn with age, and tight black jeans. A chain hangs low at his hip, and his large hands are adorned with silver rings. His hair is loose and unkept around his shoulders, but his signature smile still beams at you. His forearms are on display, covered in tattoos. It's certainly not what you were expecting. How did he just get even hotter? 
Remembering what Alex told you about how you made an utter fool of yourself brings you out of your revelry. The stuff you said to him after surgery makes you visibly cringe. You were torn between wanting to ask him out and wanting the ground to swallow you whole. 
Cheeks blazing with heat, you find your voice.
“Eddie! Er, hi.” 
“You mind if I sit here? It's pretty packed.”
Gesturing at him to make himself comfortable, he swings his leg over the stool opposite and sits down, mug of steaming coffee in his hands. 
“What brings you here?” 
“Well, I write. As a hobby, you know? Needed to get out of the house and get some done. And you?” 
He points a thick finger across the street and you gulp in your throat, remembering the feel of those fingers in your mouth. 
“There's a record store across the way, I was scouting for anything I've missed. Unlucky today it seems.” 
It was weird seeing him here. Like when you see a teacher in the wild. Except you're not a kid, and the teacher is fucking fine. 
You nod and share a very uncomfortable silence. 
“Listen, I'm sorry for anything I said-” 
“Hey, don't worry about it sweetheart, it was the drugs. Trust me I've heard some weird shit!”
He seems to shrug it off and you breathe a sigh of relief. The last few weeks all you've managed to think about is how much of a fool you've made of yourself. Hopefully he's chalked it all up to the drugs. No need for him to know you were speaking the truth.
“I gotta say, you don't look like a dentist.” 
Eddie laughs, a perfect deep laugh that has you squirming in your seat. 
“Yeah, I get that alot. I er, used to get beat up when I was a kid. I got punched real hard once, broke my jaw. It was wired shut for like six weeks. After that, well, you find some respect for dentistry. Thought I'd give it a shot, went to school. Seems I have a knack for it. I have an impeccable bedside manner, apparently. Or so I'm told.” 
I'll say. 
“I can- I can see that.” 
He blazes a grin at you that damn near combusts your insides. And that's what you blame for the thing that's about to fall out of your big mouth.
“Listen, I know this is crazy but can I have your number?” 
What the fuck are you doing?? Hitting on your dentist?
It seems your word vomit was indeed something that happened in real life and not just in your head. Eddie looks pained as he warms his hands on his coffee mug. 
“Listen, sweetheart, you're a very pretty girl but… I can't. It'd be wrong of me, you're my patient and-” 
“No, I get it, it was dumb, ignore me.” 
You grab your belongings at the speed of lightning and stuff everything into your bag. 
“Hey, sweetheart, wait, I literally ca-” 
Hell no. 
You've made more of an idiot of yourself than you're prepared to be comfortable with. Now, cheeks burning hotly you shoulder your heavy bag and bustle out of the store, leaving an open mouthed Eddie sitting there with his arm outstretched.
********************
Today was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake of embarrassment. You've never asked a guy for his number before and the first time you do you're shot down? Confidence well and truly knocked, you called around and found a new dentist, and then called your old dentist's office to let them know. There was no way you could face Eddie again after you'd made a fool of yourself three times. 
In an effort to cheer yourself up after that disastrous rendezvous, you'd dressed up, put on your highest heels paired with your shortest skirt and a red silk blouse, and went out for a night on the town. 
Now, you don't make a habit of sitting at the bar on your own. You've dealt with enough creeps in your time to know that it was a bad idea. However, when it comes to your friends, you can give a little leeway. 
Hence why you sat in your very short black skirt, heels tapping on the little rail on the bottom of the bar as you sip your Manhattan, watching your friend Alex out the corner of your eye have a make-out session with his new boyfriend. They were sitting at a table just to the right; you were on a barstool giving them a couple feet of privacy. 
It was getting a little old though. In the past half an hour three men had approached you. You can't lie to yourself, it was the reason you'd agreed to be a third wheel in the first place. Trying to manifest the right kind of man clearly wasn't working however. 
The first guy looked around twelve, with the wispiest facial hair you've ever seen. As he'd nervously bumbled a line at you, you told him you've never seen a theoretical moustache before. That saw the back of him. Contestant number two was the sleaziest douchebag in the whole bar, perhaps the entire city. He was the hardest to deal with; you'd ended up just turning away and ignoring him until he'd left. Number three was some balding, middle aged man with a pot belly and a stained tie. Exhausted by the previous two, you interrupted his practised line with one clear and concise ‘No’.
Almost certain that your date tonight would involve you with your vibrator, you order another cocktail. On your left directly next to you a guy starts leaning on the bar and calls to the bartender. 
“Hey Jack, can I get a beer please, and whatever this lovely girl is drinking.” 
Rolling your eyes and turning to look at contestant number four, ready to tell them to fuck right off, you realise its Eddie. Of course it fucking is. The universe seems to have a horrible sense of humour today. He's still in his jeans and boots, but now sporting a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Stupid dentist and his stupid hot tattooed forearms. 
“Are you following me? I don't need a pity drink thanks, I'm good.” 
You reach into your purse to pay for the drink you ordered but Eddie already has cash in his hand. He pays for it anyway and leans on the bar facing you. 
“It's not pity, it's an apology for earlier. And I think you're the one following me, I live two floors up.” 
Lips pressed into a firm line, you stir your drink with its cocktail stick and pretend that dentists don't exist.
“You can't just ignore me, you know.” 
Taking a sip of your drink you continue to stare resolutely forward. 
“OK, you can just ignore me, but I'd like it if you didn't.” 
Another sip, and you pull the little cherry off its stick and chew it. 
“So, you got a thing for dentists or is it just me, sweetheart?” 
That's it, you turn angrily to face him and scowl. 
“That's totally unfair you can't just-”
“Ha, got ya talking.” 
He's grinning at his little victory, laughter lines creasing near his eyes. If your eyes could shoot daggers you're sure he would have died from blood loss at this point. 
“Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat, but I could lose my license.” 
Your eyes soften; he's clearly telling the truth and it does make sense. His licence hadn't even entered your mind. 
“I understand. Sorry for being rough on you.” 
“Don't worry about it. I just thought I better clear the air if I'm gonna be your dentist.” 
“Oh, don't worry about it. You're not.” 
“Huh?”
Looking down at the bar and drawing circles in the condensation from your drink with a finger, you explain. 
“I couldn't face seeing you again, so I, ha, ran off to a different dentist. It's a half hour out of my way, but never mind.” 
Eddie's posture changes immediately, standing fully to attention. 
“You're not my patient anymore?” 
“Nope,” you reply, and knock back the last of your drink, “I'm not.” 
“You're not my patient anymore.” 
You risk looking back at him; he's wide eyed, nodding in your direction, as if he's just told a joke that you didn't get. Face scrunched with confusion, you blink it away as a light bulb pings on inside your head. 
“Oh. I'm not your patient anymore.” 
The grin that slowly unfolds across Eddie's face is damn right sinful. 
“You wanna come upstairs?” 
“Hell yes.” 
Leaping lightly off of the bar stool, you turn to dislodge your coat from the back of Alex's chair and wave at him frantically to tell him you're leaving. He turns to you, then Eddie, then back to you with what can only be described as A Look. If you weren't so excited you would have admonished him, but who the fuck cares. 
Eddie grabs your hand firmly and pushes through the thronging crowd with you in tow. The cold night air hits you like a blow to the chest when you escape, as does your rash decision. 
Eddie seems to sense your hesitation. Pulling you into a doorway he grabs your other hand and looks at you. 
“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just go upstairs, have a drink, or not, and chat. Really.” 
“Really?” You cock your head with the question as he licks his bottom lip with a pink tongue, dragging it to his perfect teeth to bite. He looks nervous, and for some reason, that is doing it for you right now. 
“Really. I'm just saying we don't have to rush-” 
The rest of his sentence is swallowed whole by your kiss as you tip your head up and push your lips against his firmly. Eddie grabs your waist with one hand, the other snaking into your hair to cradle your head. 
For a moment you forget about the cold, about the fact that anyone can see you like this right now. All that matters is the pounding heat of his body smashing against yours and the passion pouring from his tongue as it swipes and rolls and fills your mouth with unexpected moans.
Nails digging into his back, as if attempting to claw under his clothes, you force his body against the wall in the wanton desire to be closer. His hand massages the silk of your blouse at your waist, warmth spreading from his palm into your very flesh and seeping down between your legs. 
You'd have him, right here, against this wall, right now, if he hadn't pulled your head back softly to break the kiss. The tips of your noses rub together as you both gasp for the same air. He's smiling and biting his lip again, but this time it looks like a distraction to stop himself from devouring you. Eddie breaks the feral spell first.
“So, just a chat, yeah?” 
You both laugh, a giddy silly thing reserved for the two of you. 
“Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to rush these things.” 
Nodding sagely, you take his proffered hand and let him lead you inside and up the stairs. 
You're not sure what you expect his place to look like, but you're pleasantly surprised at how open and spacious it is. Hardwood floors, big windows, a big black sofa, and an open kitchen area with a little breakfast bar. There's a wall of shelves with what must be hundreds of records, CDs and tapes on it, all neatly organised and displayed, and an expensive looking sound system. Two guitars sit by the couch as if they'd been played recently, along with an amp that seems to be doubling as a side table. There's a small pile of boxes over by one wall that have yet to be unpacked. And that's it.
No wonder it looks so spacious, there's nothing in it. 
“Eddie, it's a great place, but er, where's all your stuff?” 
He looks a little sheepish as he flicks a standing lamp on and shuts the curtains. 
“Yeah. Got the basics sorted; kitchen, bedroom, music. Honestly, never lived anywhere this big before, and my last place came furnished.” 
He gestures widely at the sofa with a swing of his arm and you perch on it, ankles crossed, fully aware of how short your skirt is. 
“So, you wanna drink? Unfortunately I can't make a Manhattan but I’ve got rum, some vodka, sodas, maybe a beer?” 
“What do you mean you can't make a Manhattan? What sort of establishment is this?” 
You huff dramatically, folding your arms. 
“I'm terribly sorry Ma’am, I shall have a word with the management.” 
Eddie falls to one knee in a low bow, a mock plea for your forgiveness and the sheer goofiness makes your heart do a little hop inside your chest. 
“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?” 
His eyes are open, honest and sincere. But the grin fighting to crawl over his face is naughtiness personified.
“Well I shall have a beer now, and maybe you can make it up to me later?” 
Smirking, he presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another, to the side of it. Letting his teeth drag further he playfully nips at the outside of your thigh and smooths the area with a lick. 
Breathe. Remember, you need oxygen to live. 
You take a harsh, ragged breath in as if inhaling for the first time and try to concentrate on slowing your heart rate. This is madness, you feel wrecked from a sprinkling of kisses. 
Feeling Eddie's soft chuckle as the air from it dances on your thigh, he gets back up looking far too pleased with himself. 
“You know, you shouldn't be that forward with a lady.” 
Throwing his head back and laughing loudly he walks around the back of the couch. Directly behind you, he begins talking again. 
“I don't see a lady here.” 
Whipping your head around to reprimand him, he bends to your level and whispers in your exposed ear. 
“I see a very good girl.” 
Words die in your throat having never reached your tongue. There's no witty repartee, just an odd noise that blurts out of you, halfway between a whimper and a squeak. 
Eddie walks away towards the fridge to grab your drink, no doubt with a very smug look on his face. In his absence you fan yourself to try to quench some of the raging heat within, but at this point it's like throwing a water bomb at a house fire. Undoing one button on your blouse, you let the girls have a little air at least. 
He returns, drinks in hand, and offers one to you with a bow of his head. 
“Milady.” 
You take it and sip as Eddie sits next to you. 
“I thought I wasn't a lady?”
“You are right, absolutely right,” he responds, shuffling closer to put an arm around you, and nuzzles your neck teasingly, “and I am not a gentleman.” 
You reach out to the side, and realise there's nowhere to put your beer. 
“Eddie, you need a coffee table or something.” 
“Just, put it on the floor.” 
Placing it gently on the floor, wincing as you do so, you mumble half to yourself, “if my mother could see me now…” 
“I'm sure she'd have more important things to say than about the lack of coasters, sweetheart.” 
“You have a very good point.” 
Eddie holds your jaw, softly turning your face to his own, and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and finally to your lips. It's more gentle than the searing heat of the last one; a languid spell of tongues finding their way against each other. 
As you both break away, Eddie strokes your bare thigh, whispering in your ear as he does so. 
“God, when you walked in my office, I thought I might have to switch professions. I just wanted to hike that tight skirt up and bury my face right here.” 
His hand moves up your leg, a finger ghosting over the top of your panties that makes a shiver work all its way to the tips of your toes. It's a bold move, and one you wouldn't stand for usually, but this is Eddie. You've been fantasising about this for the last two months. Hell, this scene has played in your brain so long it was almost like it didn't feel like the first time.
So, if he's going to be that bold, then bold it is.
“Well, I gotta confess, it took a lot for me to not moan around your fingers in my mouth.” 
Eddie groans loud, throwing his head against the back of the couch. 
“Fuck that's so hot. C'mere.” 
He's coaxing you into his lap and you follow his lead, swinging your leg across him and most likely giving him a choice view of your lacy underwear. His large hands wander over your frame, mapping out your curves with his eyes as well as his fingers. 
“Eddie.” 
You breathe it out, your hands resting on his shoulders. He's getting hard beneath you, you can feel it as your hips start to move back and forth of their own accord. 
“Hmm?” 
He doesn't look up, busy stroking your sides, thumb brushing your breasts with each pass. Every nerve feels like a live wire, feeling more needy than you think you've ever been. 
“Eddie, please, just kiss me.” 
“No.” 
“No?”
He does look at you then, giving you a cheeky smile.
“I think I've got the hottest girl in the city on my lap right now, let me savour it a little.” 
Rolling your eyes, you reach to the front of your blouse and start unbuttoning it slowly, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulders and away. The fates seem to be in your favour for once; this is your best bra, adorned in satin and black lace.
“Well, someone's eager. Were you looking to get lucky tonight?” 
Eddie says as he smirks at you, a hand stroking up, over your laced covered chest, coming to rest on the side of your throat. 
“It's been a while Eddie, forgive me for being keen.” 
“Oh yeah, what was it? Nine months, right?” 
Cringing at his words whilst he chuckles, you rest your forehead on his shoulder to hide your face. 
“Technically no.” It's muffled into the fabric of his shirt.
“No?”
Still unwilling to look at him, you reply, “that was a few weeks ago. It's ten now.” 
Pulling you upright again, he playfully pouts, a little mocking face that's making your insides pulse. 
“Aw, poor, poor baby. Guess I shouldn't tease so much. Why don't you take this ridiculous skirt off and sit for me sweetheart.” 
It's comical how quickly you follow his directions, shuffling your skirt off and laying back on the sofa, ass near the edge, as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. 
“That's it, right there. Such a good listener.”
As he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, you spread your legs to make room for him, breath quickening in anticipation. 
“I suppose I better check,” he says as he looks up at you with a serious expression, pierced eyebrow arching. 
“Check what?” 
“How wet my words made you.” 
‘Oh God!” you squeak, hiding in your hands, “I can't believe you remembered that!” 
“Remembered it? I can't think of anything else.” 
His thick rough fingertips reach higher and higher; he slips two under your panties, hooking them to one side as his digits glide through your wetness. 
“Oh sweetheart, you're soaked. That must be uncomfortable. Don't worry I'm gonna do something about that.” 
You're thinking of something clever to say back but your mind empties entirely as his touch moves to your clit and rubs slow, deliberate circles. 
The relief of him finally stroking just where you need it has you near tears, breathy gasps pulling from your chest and rushing out your mouth. 
His fingers leave you suddenly and you resist the urge to stamp your foot like an impatient toddler, fists tight at your sides. Eddie raises up on his knees, leaning toward your chest. 
“I'm gonna take this off first, that OK sweetheart?” 
He runs a finger between the valley of your breasts as he speaks, making your back arch into the hint of a touch. 
“Y-yes.” 
“Atta girl.” 
He reaches behind you and flicks your bra clasp, opening it with such ease that it makes you question internally how many times he's done that before. Then, he pulls the straps down slowly and with such reverence that you forget your thoughts. 
“Jesus Christ, you are just perfect aren't you.” 
Solid knuckles rub gently over a pebbled nipple making you whimper and bite your lip. Leaning in, his mouth is wet and warm, almost leisurely massaging your nipple, then giving the same amount of care and attention to the other. 
When his teeth graze you an unfiltered moan shoots out from you, entirely unbidden. 
“Wow, you're really sensitive,” he says when he unlatches his mouth. He pinches one abruptly and you cry out, hand grasping at his bicep in pleasurable shock. Licking his lips, he grins at you. 
“Oh we are gonna have a lot of fun sweetheart.” 
Running a finger just under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down as you assist him, lifting your ass to give him room. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes all of you in with his eyes now that you're entirely exposed, as if he can’t believe his luck. 
Kissing down your quivering form, he finally slips that overbold tongue of his between your folds, running it back and forth over your sensitive nub. His tongue searches you, taking care to leave no spot untouched. It's deliberate; a slow and intense exploration of your sex, as if mapping out every sweet spot, spurred on by the moans spilling from your lips with ever increasing frequency. 
Each sound you make is echoed, mirrored by Eddie, as if he was taking as much enjoyment in eating you out as you were in receiving it. The build up is as slow as his movements, but that certainly isn't a bad thing. Far from it. The feeling fizzing in your very blood is deep and profound, and it keeps building. 
Until Eddie does this twirling thing with his tongue that makes your eyes cross, that sets each one of your nerves on fire, fingers desperately grasping at his soft waves as you moan even louder. 
“Fuck, Eddie! Right there!” 
His words are muffled, a hint of amusement in them, but you're sure he says “yes ma'am.”
Then he does it again, and again, tongue twisting like it's independent from his body, swirling you into a deep pool of overwashing ecstasy. Back leaving the soft confines of the couch you clutch at his hair as your hoarse moans pound out of you, until you flop back down, a glistening panting mess. 
Eddie's still kissing your delicate parts, leaving soft, almost innocent kisses. He presses his lips to your clit again and you squirm, trying to get out of his gentle, grasping hands. It's a soft touch, but his hands are immovable, like velvet wrapped around a steel bar. 
“Eddie, fuck, I-I'm really sensitive-” 
“Oh I know sweetheart,” he says, pressing his mouth against you over and over, “but we're not done.” 
Staring at him wide eyed, he lifts one hand, ring and middle finger outstretched, and brushes the tips of them to your kiss bitten bottom lip. 
“Can you get these nice and wet for me sweetheart?”
Parting your lips slightly, he slips the fingers inside and you do as instructed, licking and suckling on them, surprised by how fiercely you wanted to. They felt rough and heavy on your tongue. Eddie's staring at you with a burning admiration in his eyes, still pushing his lips to you. He suckles softly at your clit making you writhe and moan around him. As he pulls his fingers out you call to him. 
“Eddie, I can't it's too much-” 
“Shhh, princess, do you really want me to stop?” 
A little drop of shame trickles down your throat at the thought. 
“No,” you whisper. 
“That's what I thought,” he says as his fingers circle your silken entrance, “be good for me sweetheart, good girls come twice.” 
You're not sure if the heady moan that you release is due to his fingers slipping inside you, or his words. It could be a combination of both. Stroking at you incessantly, his fingers drive into you, perpetually caressing that soft spot inside that makes your toes curl. 
Your release creeps up unsurprisingly fast. It's all force and pressure, a tightening, full feeling that's gripping your insides in its strong claws. One minute you're holding on to reality and the next, you're gone, floating away as the pressure melts and cascades from you like stardust. 
Your vision unblurring, you realise what's happened when the sound of it reaches your ears. That squelching, soaking noise of Eddie's fingers working you through the last throes of your pleasure. 
As you look down Eddie's staring at your dripping pussy with awe, having to pull his fingers out of you with a bit of force since you don't seem to want to let go. He sits back on his heels with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cats, absolutely coated in your juices. It's covering his face, his hand, and it's even darkened the front and sleeve of his shirt. 
An apology nestles on the tip of your tongue, but it stays there when Eddie speaks. 
“Atta girl, did so good for me. Fuck, I kinda want to see if you can do that again.” 
Opening your mouth for a witty remark, it escapes you. Your usually sharp mind is now the consistency of spray cheese. All that comes out is a soft little noise, a cross between a hum and a thank you. 
“Stay right there, I'll be back.” 
You giggle a little as he runs off. Where on earth does he think you'll go? And more importantly, how? 
When he returns his face and hands are clean, and crucially, he's shirtless. Lean muscle gleams in the low light, decorated with a dozen or so tattoos. He's got a cloth in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. 
“Here, drink up sweetheart, you need it.” 
You search for a hint of playfulness or smugness in his face and come up empty. In fact, he's staring, waiting for you to take a sip. When you do, he smiles, and goes about wiping the tops of your thighs. The cloth is even warm. You've never been given a warm cloth before, the closest being a handful of scrunched up tissues. 
“Eddie, where have you been all my life?” 
Laughing loudly, he sits next to you, stealing a sip of your water. 
“I came as quickly as I could.” 
It was a cheesy line, but you're beyond caring, a goofy grin smeared all over your face. 
“Can I take you to the bedroom?” 
You nod and before you can get up he's scooping you into his arms. 
“Eddie, I can walk you know,” you say as you drape your arms around his neck. 
“Oh I know, I just want to take care of you.” 
Fuck. You could move in tomorrow. 
The only things you notice about the bedroom are the soft blue of the duvet as he places you gently on top of it and the bedside lamps he flicks on that bathe the room in a warm glow. The rest doesn't matter, not right now. Your eyes are on him as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking at you as if you were a beautiful sculpture carved from the finest marble. 
Getting up on your knees, you smile cheekily up at him as you hook your fingers into the worn denim and pop the top button. 
“And what do you think you're doing?” He asks, hand moving up to cradle your face. 
“I was going to return the favour.” 
You unzip the fly and pull them down, eyes widening at the swollen bulge in his trunks. They're tight, leaving little room for the imagination, but anything you may have imagined couldn't possibly compare to the real thing. 
“Not tonight sweetheart. Like I said, I want to take care of you.” 
He turns to the nightstand and rummages around, pulling out a packet of condoms. It's new, you notice, as he unwraps the film and takes one out, placing it on the side whilst he rolls his underwear off.
As he's putting it on you gawp shamelessly, truly wondering if it's actually going to fit. No wonder he's so confident. 
“Did you actually just turn down a blow job?” 
He smiles, crawling between your legs and caging your head between his arms. 
“What can I say, I'm a giver.” 
He stops for a moment, knuckles stroking your cheek. 
“You sure you wanna do this?” 
Smiling gently, you reach down and grasp his solid member making him jolt, and rub the tip through your slick. 
“Yes.” 
You line him up and his smile turns into an open mouthed groan, eyebrows knitting together as he starts slipping inside of you. 
“Eddie, holy- fuck.” 
“You're OK sweetheart, doing such a good job for me.” 
He pushes in further and you realise why all the foreplay was necessary. Clearly, he enjoyed it too, but you're not sure you could have taken him without it. When he's finally sitting flush inside you wince a little, hands tight on his shoulders. 
“You feel incredible, so tight for me.” 
Whimpering, you can feel your cheeks heat with the praise. 
“God you really do like my words don't you?” 
Grinning mischievously, he plants a soft kiss to your lips. It weirdly feels more intimate than him being inside you. 
“Y-yeah, it's really sexy Eddie.” 
His cock kicks up inside you, making you gasp a little. 
“You're really sexy. The little sounds you make, your moans.”
As if demonstrating that, he pulls out a little and thrusts in gently, forcing a quivering sigh from you. 
“See? Fucking perfect sweetheart.” 
He begins rolling his hips into you, never pulling out too much, as if he couldn't stand to be any further apart. 
One of his sinewy arms snakes its way underneath you, holding you close as he playfully nips your earlobe and breathing whispers into your ear. 
“How many times?” 
“Huh?” You respond, utterly lost in the feel of him dragging against your gripping walls. 
“How many times do you want to come?” 
You giggle, despite the situation, or maybe because of it.
“I don't usually, oh, get t-to choose, is there a- oh fuck- there a menu or something?” 
He chuckles and slows down just slightly, pushing into you devastatingly deep. 
“What's the most you've managed?” 
He's so thick, and the feel of him is otherworldly; it had you wondering how it'd feel without the layer of latex between you. 
“I can't- fuck- I can't think- like two?”
He stops, looking at you incredulously  with a furrowed brow.
“Two? We can do better than that.” 
He speeds up, leaning on one arm as his other hand finds its way down your torso and begins to rub your clit. That pulse inside you is sent into overdrive, mouth open and panting as you cling to his back, nails digging into his skin. 
Your release swells inside, growing, and intensifying, until it suddenly pops, showering you in pleasure. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you moan out your release an inch from his face.
“Atta girl,” Eddie says as he nudges you with his nose, “do that again.” 
Your clit feels a little sore, swollen and sensitive after so much pleasure. His touch is gentle, but it's still overwhelming. 
“Eddie, I-I can't, please-” 
“You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want that sweetheart.” 
The sharp feeling begins to dull, making way for another wave of euphoria that washes over your whole body. Legs twitching uncontrollably, you whine long and low, a flood of noises bursting from you that no damn could ever stop. 
“That a no, sweetheart?” 
“Don't stop don't stop don’t stop - oh!” 
You'd be embarrassed by the crazy noise you made as you come again, if you were even aware of it. A screeching loud moan, eyes scrunched as your body leaves the bed and your nails drag across his bare back. 
“That's it, knew you could, so good for me. Fuck, nearly lost it.” 
He does stop then, biting his lip to stop himself from unleashing his own orgasm as his breath comes in short huffs. 
“Eddie, you don't have to- ohmygod!”
The last of your sentence evaporates on your tongue as he hooks his arms under your legs and pushes your thighs flush to your chest. It seems even Eddie has lost the power of speech, dirty moans pouring from his mouth that rival your own. 
He's so deep, impossibly deep; as if he were in your guts at this point. You've never felt so full in all your life. Your third release is almost there, a tightening string wound around you, pulling and twisting and contorting your body into a writhing sweaty shambles. 
You're clenching and convulsing around his pumping length as he twitches inside you, his groans and grunts spurring you on. It's faster now, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Sweat clings to the very air, the heat in the room creating this cloying humidity that dampens each breath out, making hair stick to skin and creating loud slapping sounds of your conjunction. 
Eddie's face is red with effort, teeth gritted and lips tight. 
“Are you gonna come again? I can feel you. Please, sweetheart, please- fuck- I need it, I need it, come with me!” 
You let go. The tight string breaks and your orgasm spreads through your very soul; it's so profound and savage that tears spill out and down your cheeks with its intensity. Eddie joins you, coming as one with a drawn out groan that borders on feral. 
For a moment, you both revel in it, just panting, feeling sticky skin against skin, heartbeats slowing, muscles unwinding and relaxing. 
He finally unhooks his arms from your legs and you lay them shakily on the down as he clambers off, collapsing next to you on the bed. 
“You OK sweetheart?” 
“Hmm.”
It's all you can reply with, a little satisfied noise. Scooting closer to him, you place your hand hesitantly on his chest. 
“Hang on a sec.” 
He gets up and disposes of the condom, slowly padding out the room. Returning again with another glass of water for you, he hands it over with a raise of an eyebrow. This time you take it gratefully, chugging half of it before passing it back. 
A moment of panic grips your chest, followed by shame. You barely know him, yet you'd gone to his place with hardly any hesitation. 
As he lays back down next to you, scooping his arm around your back, you clear your throat. 
“I just, er, wanted you to know I don't usually do this.” 
“Hey, it's alright. Neither do I.”
Feeling slightly less trampy, you stroke his chest with delicate fingers, wishing for the moment to last but knowing it can't. 
“I don't think my legs work anymore, I think you'll have to call me a taxi.”
Eddie sits up suddenly, looking at you with anguish written all over his face. 
“You're not leaving, are you?” 
“Well, I don't fancy doing the walk of shame tomorrow in that outfit.” 
He pouts, looking much younger than he is. 
“Oh. Well, you can always borrow something to wear?” 
“That's even worse!” You laugh, hitting his chest softly. 
“Fine, then I'll go out in the morning and buy you something to wear.” 
Staring at him wide eyed, you realise he's not joking. 
“Really?” 
“Sweetheart, I'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if it meant you’d stay.” 
Heart beating just that little bit faster in your chest, you fight the tears that want to build up. 
“I just thought, you know, well, we don't know each other that well and that you might think this was just, a thing.” 
“You mean a one night thing?”
You nod, not trusting your voice. 
“C'mere.” 
Melting into his open arms, he kisses the top of your head.
“I want you to stay. I'll take you home Monday and-” 
“Eddie, tomorrow's Sunday.” 
“I know.” 
“Eddie, I have to work Monday. So do you!” 
You laugh, trying to break free of his arms but he doesn't let up. 
“Fine, I'll take you home tomorrow. Late. Then see you Monday night.” 
Face hurting from smiling, you settle into the cuddle, the swell of feeling in your chest almost too much for you right now. 
“Eddie I can't stay. I don't have a toothbrush.” 
You say it jokingly, and he squeezes you. 
“It's fine, I've got like 20 of them from work.” 
“Thief.” 
“I prefer to think of it as resourceful.” 
Suddenly he pulls you on top of him making you squeal. 
“So you gonna stay?” 
“Yeah, fine I'll stay.” You try to say it in a mocking manner but your silly grin belies your rolling eyes. 
“Good.” 
Holding you close, Eddie breathes such a sigh of relief; a deep one, one that sounds like he's been holding in for some time. A sigh that makes you feel special. 
Permanent Taglist (couple of these are assumed, if you want off let me know! Same if you want to be added sweethearts)
@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n
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koocycle · 1 year ago
Text
screw up; over wine | drabble i.
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synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.
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pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader
word count; 4.1k
genre; fluff, baby angst probably
warnings; none
timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!
author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill
series masterlist | over wine universe
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The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say. 
It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead. 
She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.
You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.
Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.
And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.
That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.
‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’
It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.
Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?
‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’
You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.
‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’
It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.
‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.
And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’
You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’
Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.
Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.
He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’
You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.
Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’
You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’
Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.
Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.
You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.
As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.
At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.
‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.
Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’
You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.
‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’
‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’
‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’
You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.
Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’
The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’
You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’
‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’
He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.
You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.
Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’
Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’
‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’
He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.
‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’
Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’
‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.
He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.
The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’
Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.
‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.
Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.
‘‘Do it and find out.’’
He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.
You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.
Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.
‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’
Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.
‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.
As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.
And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.
You’re truly one of a kind.
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tainted-liquor · 1 year ago
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⟡'Big Ass Attitude ☆ [21.10.23] - ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales
☆彡 Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!
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"Mamita, date prisa! Vamos a llegar tarde!" Miles called from downstairs, struggling to make his tie look normal. You groaned, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and gently gracing the shimmery silver brush across your nose and cupid bow. "Uh, yeah, Miles! I can't beat my face any faster," you groaned, throwing your brush back into its drawer with a little more force than you'd like to admit. "Please don't start, lil' girl," Miles replied, his low and slightly irritated voice filling your ears as he made his way up the steps and into your room. He leaned against the door frame as he looked you up and down, analyzing your beautiful red dress before turning his attention to his white collar.
"Oh sure, I won't start! Miles, get the fuck out of my room," You huffed, raising yourself from your ivory desk chair and making your way over to Miles. He gave you a sharp glare, eying you up and down with his mismatched emerald green and deep hazel eyes. "What did I just say?" he warned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before stepping aside, giving you full access to the black-rimmed mirror on your bedroom door. "Mhm, whatever you say Gonzalo!" you muttered, nodding your head with faux compliance as you smoothed out the smooth and shiny fabric of your red dress. "Where'd you say we were going again love?" You asked, doing a half-turn in the mirror to see what your dress looked like from all angles.
Miles chuckled lowly at your usual snide remarks. It's not that he didn’t care, you just always wanted the last word and he thought it was funny. The way you’d stop him mid-sentence, pressing an unwavering finger to your lips as an indication for him to stop talking. He never got bored of the way you’d grab whatever it was you wanted, eagerly gesturing to whatever the new item of interest was before asking, no, telling him that you were gonna get this one. IT worked out perfectly, with Miles being fine with virtually anything while you dragged him along with you for every bumpy ride you had in store.
The red glittery material twinkled under your room's industrial white lighting, casting soft red highlights on the warm white of your bedroom walls. You fluffed out your curls, leaning on one leg as you gave yourself a final look through the reflective glass. While waiting for Miles to answer, you eyed him through the mirror, watching as his eyes became transfixed on your dress. He watched as the shimmery fabric found purchase on every ounce of skin it could find, highlighting every beautiful imperfection in its shiny path. Dear god, he won.
"Well damn, you wanna borrow it next?" you chuckled, turning around to face him before grabbing your bag from off your vanity desk. He cleared his throat, snapping his eyes shut before letting out a half-amused sigh. "I got tickets to this fancy-ass theater from my coach...something about MVP," he shrugged, holding your upper waist like the most precious gem in the world. To Miles, you were nothing short of something carved and molded from angels; their gentle and heavenly hands spent years perfecting their craft to give birth to the most gorgeous model to ever walk the clouds above. You were too beautiful to walk the heavens, so here you breathe, blessing the world with your beauty.
"You ready to go? We got like 35 minutes, 'n I still wanna watch out for traffic” He reminded, putting away most of the makeup you left open on top of your maple oak vanity. "Yeah, c’mon,” you nodded, quickly shoving your perfume, lipgloss, house keys, and phone into your small handbag. You gasped when you reached the car, earning a soft and concerned glare from your boyfriend. His beautiful face glowed under the soft glare of the moonlight and New York neons, properly illuminating the depth in each of his facial features. “¿Qué pasa, qué necesitas?” He queried, instantly turning around to see what was wrong. 
You looked up at him, deep black irises shining and glittering under the ghostly hue of ‘spotlight’, placing your delicate hands on either side of Miles’s shoulders. “I left my bracelet in the house…can you get it for me pleaseee~?” You whined, leaving a soft trail of delicate kisses along the side of his jaw and right next to his lips, barely ghosting his now-prominent dimple as a love struck smile creeped up on his face. He nodded drunkenly, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as he ran back in the cozy apartment to look for your glimmering rose-gold bracelet. He made quick work of tearing up the entire house, not stopping until he came across the gorgeous piece of jewelry then darting back out the door. Everyone else may know Miles to be a stoic and quiet young man, but that well-kept façade always seemed to crumble when faced by you.
“Thank you, boo!” You chirped, climbing into the passenger seat of Miles’s all black Tesla, courtesy of his uncle for his 17th birthday. The seats were ice cold, creating a numbing clash against the body heat of your skin as you felt goosebumps grow across every inch of your uncovered skin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Miles, who wasted no time in taking off his suit jacket and draping the soft silk across your shoulders in a heartbeat. “¿Estás bien?” He questioned, quickly starting up his car to jumpstart the heat as he reached to connect his phone to the car radio. You nodded, quickly smacking his hand away as you connected your phone to the speaker system instead.
“I give you my jacket…and you smack my hand?” He chuckled, giving you a small eye roll as he used one hand to guide himself out the crammed parking spot. You nodded, smiling at him brightly as you let the bass of ‘Not My Job’ by Flo fill the empty space of Miles’s car. “You always play like…CD osama or something-“
“DD Osama, love” he sniggered, biting back a louder laugh that threatened to leave his lips. You rolled your eyes, gently smacking the nape of his neck as he giggled louder. “Miles shut up you know what I meant” you scoffed, pretending to be annoyed and leaning against the passenger door, watching the city pass you by as your boyfriend broke into a fit of laughter. “Yes ma’am,” he corrected, using his free hand to hold the back of your seat's headrest, gently patting the plush leather to the rhythm of your playlist as you talked his ear off about your plans for the future. “And then, I wanna go into theatrical arts. We should buy a cute lil house for the two of us when we graduate! I’ll decorate it, and it’ll be soooo fuckin’ cute,” you rambled, scanning Miles’s features every now and again to check that he was really listening, and he was.
He clung to every word like a mother clinging onto her energetic baby; filled with pride and joy as her beautiful baby girl scoped out the world around her and mapped her way through the fog. He nodded along, keeping his eyes on the road but still sparing you attentive glances while you ranted about your sudden surge of baby fever and hopes for your future. It hadn't even occurred to you that the bumpy and traffic-clad ride was now long over, with you and Miles having found a spot in the parking lot over 15 minutes ago. Miles was leant over the cushioned arm rest, one hand supporting his head while his other wrist rested on his arm. “Oh shit, Miles, why didn’t you tell me we were here?” You gasped, quickly grabbing your things as Miles ran to open your car door.
“Sorry. Didn’t wanna interrupt you” He beamed, taking your hand in his as he led you out of the ink-stained vehicle and closing the door behind you. You lead Miles forward to the entrance, almost like you had been to the unfamiliar establishment before while your boyfriend followed closely behind you. He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder while he mumbled dangerously close to your ear. 
“I’ll let you know next time. I love you”
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Taglist !♡
@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc
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allureasdiary · 6 months ago
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What I'd wear with my sp
Inspired by @princessbrunette bunny!reader in her rafe cameron posts and @sugarcandydoll rafe post (my sp def has some elements of the rafe scripts yall been making i couldnt help myself) 😭
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♡ Definitely an outfit I'd wear with him out at the country clubs and rich social gatherings bringing a sense of innocent but slutty doll at his side. I'm so gonna get scolded for wearing what he'd call "scraps of fabrics for clothes" in front of all these thirsty men here but let's be honest, we both know it's hot and I ain't talkin bout the weather darlin.
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♡ Bae needs chill time with the bros? Time to go more sporty. Playing with the dynamic between femininity but also meshing with men's naturally rough nature. Elements of pretty and sporty paired with sexy and cute. I'll happily be sitting all cute while he plays basketball or watch him horse race with his buddies and colleagues while I read through the latest fashion magazine wondering what my next shopping spree is gonna be like.
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♡ aww..daddy has to work AGAIN 🙄 luckily I'm not just a little ditsy bimbo but a smart one as well..at least when I wanna be hehe. This calls for going full on preppy and sophisticated. Mini skirts still gonna happen though hehe.
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♡ Now let's get to the good stuff, PARTY TIMEEE!! ..or at least the arrival hehe. Ofc my man is sitting with some of the hottest names in the industry like beyonce and Jay z, Sofia Richie, hell even the royals of England. But who's on the side of him? Me thats who, his finest treasure he just debut to show off to the whole world. So why not make a good first impression. Definitely faux fur, sleek sheer fabric gowns, satin silk slip dresses paired with a fur coat. Something sexy but definitely elegant giving room for an eye of luxe towards a crown jewel such as myself. A mixture of royal and romance. Plus with a nice slit, makes teasing so much easier at that gala dinner table and bathroom doesn't it? 🤭
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♡ Finally its after party timee!! This calls for the highest of high heels and miniest dress you can find. Handbags are essential and a lil cheetah print definitely screams sex symbol of the night once again. Ofc he's probably gonna beat up any man who looks at my figure matter fact even has a thought on it. Ooh and can't forget the princess tiara, oh what would a little heiress like me be without her.
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saintmeghanmarkle · 3 months ago
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JAN MOIR on fire: Meghans become just another pay-per-view plugger turning her high profile into high profit by u/Von_und_zu_
JAN MOIR on fire: Meghan’s become just another pay-per-view plugger turning her high profile into high profit Between not launching her lifestyle brand, not being invited to A-list events and not visiting the UK with her husband, where does Meghan find the time to be an international businesswoman, that is what I want to know.This week, the Duchess of Sussex interrupted her trade and industry schedule to give an interview to the New York Times. How unlike her, is what you are thinking, and I agree.Meghan breached her ongoing quest for privacy, piercing that pearly shell of seclusion and confidentiality, to talk to one of the few publications in the world — along with People magazine, her trusty in-house trumpet — that she knows will treat her waffly pensées and latest commercial undertakings with respect and deference, rather than openly laugh in her face.And so it came to be.\**Meghan would not tell the newspaper how much she put into the brand, nor what ownership percentage she now has in the company, but Cesta confirmed it was a minority stake.So I am guessing that it was sixpence, a free jar of jam and a signed photograph of the Duke and Duchess being presented with their Golden Grifters of 2024 award.Why are we all here? I've lost my thread. Oh, yes — to salute Meghan's 'ability to move merchandise', a talent which was breathlessly admired by the NYT, as if the Duchess were a shiny fashion truck barrelling down the highway of hip.Which, as it turns out, is exactly how she sees herself.\**However, the exiled Duchess has had to wait until now to fully monetise that regal power and fully invest in herself — while also helping struggling fashion brands establish themselves, of course. Of course.'I support designers that I have really great friendships with, and smaller, up-and-coming brands that haven't gotten the attention that they should be getting,' she said.Unknowns such Oscar de La Renta and Givenchy, along with St Ella of McCartney and an obscure apprentice tailor from Milan called Mr G Armani, are all so grateful for her help. As, indeed, are Cesta.\**The Duchess also told the newspaper that, when it comes to being a businesswoman, she is a dolphin, not a shark.And also that she is better than you, but you knew that already.\**Like all influencers — which is what she has become — Meghan always seems to be invested in the higher purpose of self-valourising while imposing her superior taste on the scabby masses for clicks and cash.Look. Plenty of celebrities and even some royals get clothes and accessories for free — but that is not enough for the Sussexes. I imagine long Montecito nights of the soul when Meghan and Harry just burn with pure fury at the thought of anyone else, from handbag maker to napkin embroiderer to dress designer, making money out of them.So perhaps it should be no surprise to anyone that she seems to be turning herself into just another pay-per-view professional plugger, a walking billboard in a perennial marketing campaign for herself, a duchess who has transmogrified her high profile into a high profit, with a price on everything from her ethical diamond earrings to the soles of her shoes.The problem is that, collectively and individually, Harry and Meghan haven't got any actual talent to monetise — all that is left to milk is the very fact of their celebrity itself.For he is a prince who will never be crowned and she is an actress who will never get a part. And it was always, always coming to this sad point. https://ift.tt/2Yd3cUs post link: https://ift.tt/J8CvZrl author: Von_und_zu_ submitted: August 30, 2024 at 04:27AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.
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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 11 months ago
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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Two (Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader)
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Summary: The weekend before your last year of law schools begins, you celebrate the end of your summer associate position, where you meet an intriguing woman at the bar.
Word Count: 6.6k
Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, dirty talk, light degradation kink
A/N: Hello! I’ll be in rehearsals this weekend so I’m updating a few days early. This chapter, as well as the next few, will be set in the past and marked accordingly. Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added to the tag-list let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think. 🩵
Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog
Ten Years Prior
There was something so enticing about law school. Every attorney you ever met would warn you not to pursue law. It was their biggest regret, they would bemoan, and share horror stories of mountain high piles of readings and difficult exams that would slowly weed out the unworthy. The hundreds of thousands of dollars you would invest that wouldn’t guarantee you to pass the ever dreaded Bar Exam. The world of law was much like a game of cat and mouse; with the law student being the meek mouse and the demanding law professors and your fellow students as the prowling cats. Despite the many, many, many warnings, you ignored them.
You were the first person in your family to decide you wanted to be an attorney, so you were shocked to learn the vast majority of your classmates already had major ins to some of the top law firms in the country. It didn’t seem to matter that you received a top LSAT score, or that you were also accepted into one of the top law schools in the country, just like them. None of that mattered, you were already hundreds of steps behind everyone else. So, you conditioned yourself to work even harder. Endless hours of studying in the library, attending every office hour your professors would offer, taking any opportunity you could to network with any attorney who would reply to you on LinkedIn.
There was an even more alluring pull for you to get into corporate law, or “Big Law.” It wasn’t just the temptingly sky-high salary, or the perks that came with working for a major firm, it was the reputation. The attorneys who worked in corporate law were practically guaranteed a job in whatever other field or firm they wanted to move to next, due to the prestigious reputation they’d previously acquired. Unfortunately, you were competing against the majority of your classmates, most of whom had those direct family connections. Your ambition would always get the better of you, as it merely made you work even harder.
Eventually it paid off, as you received a summer associate position at the end of your second year at the top corporate law firm in Manhattan, Stark & Strange. You spent your summer working alongside some of the more powerful attorneys in the industry, and received paychecks that were larger than anything you had ever seen prior. The firm paid for an Uber Black to take you to and from your shoebox law school apartment, and even gave you a free gym membership. Practically every meal was comped, as you were wined and dined at restaurants where the bill cost more than your rent. It was a foreign world to you, the grueling hours made up for by designer handbags and any luxury you never dreamed of being able to afford, especially not on a summer associate’s salary.
You made a point to stay as late as they needed, and always volunteered to assist various attorneys with whatever work they needed done. Most of it was grunt work, like looking over a contract for typos, or printing hundreds of documents, but you soaked everything up like a sponge. Despite the many hours you spent at the firm, you hardly ever saw the men whose names were on the building, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. But, you were making good connections with a few of the other attorneys.
Maria Hill, one of the senior attorneys, usually requested for you to assist her on projects. She was only slightly terrifying, and practically ran the firm like the Navy. But, she was extremely knowledgeable and always made a point to introduce you to anyone she deemed important enough. Towards the end of the summer you were working on a tedious editing assignment from one of the junior attorneys, when Maria sent you an email to stop by her office before the end of the day. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as she sometimes wanted your help with a last minute deal, and she would almost always DoorDash whatever meal you wanted if you stayed long enough.
Once you finally finished your assignment, you packed up your belongings and made your way to the top floor where Maria’s office was located. Stark & Strange was a towering skyscraper in the center of Manhattan. Even though you were in a smaller office with a few of the other summer associates, you still had a breathtaking view of the skyline. Many called the design a waste of time and money, but those people clearly never met Tony Stark. No expense was spared when designing the project, and Maria told you it took over a decade to complete. But, when you’re a multimillionaire attorney, money was but a mere object. The hallways were becoming more familiar as the weeks passed, and it was a bittersweet feeling when you remembered your time was almost up.
The door to Maria’s office was slightly ajar, but you still knocked and waited for her curt response for you to enter. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, glasses hanging low on her face as she appeared to be typing. Her office was one of your favorites, it was so open and had a comfortable atmosphere. She had a variety of plants placed throughout the room, and you figured she must have a green thumb, but her paralegal once quietly shared how Maria often committed one of the worst sins of gardening…overwatering. You awkwardly stood near the doorway, contemplating if you should come back when she appeared to be less busy.
As if she sensed your hesitation, she gently shut her laptop, and placed her glasses on the desk, looking up at you. “Sorry about that, Stephen needed a contract updated before tonight.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Come, sit.”
Taking a seat, you nervously folded your hands across your lap, setting your bag on the ground next to your feet. “So, you wanted to see me?”
“I did,” Maria confirmed, giving you a curious glance. “Your last day is tomorrow, right?”
You nodded, and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. “My first day of classes is next Monday.”
Maria hummed, a thoughtful appearance on her face. “This is your last year of school?”
“Yes ma’am,” You replied, unsure of why she was asking you this.
“Tony and Stephen like to take out a select group of the summer associates every year for celebratory drinks,” Maria explained, and you swore you saw her roll her eyes ever so slightly before adding, “It’s mostly an excuse for Tony to brag more about the firm, but the drinks are free, and strong.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t realize they were having another dinner. “Oh, well that sounds nice.”
Maria nodded before continuing talking. “They usually ask the senior attorneys to each invite one of the summer associates, and my pick was you.”
You felt your eyes widen, she picked you? Shaking your nerves aside, you gave her a wide smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Hill. I’m honored.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Maria insisted, standing up and motioning for you to join her. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you this summer, but you rose to the challenge.”
Lightly blushing, you waited for her to grab her briefcase before you followed her out of the office. “I didn’t mind, I actually really enjoyed all of it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Maria said, and she seemed sincere. “I believe Tony made the reservation for eight o’clock, but I’ll send you the details in the morning. Thank you again, I’ve appreciated your help.”
The elevator doors opened and you bid her farewell, as she went down the hallway to see if her wife was still working or was wrapping up. You could hardly believe it, sure you were sad that your summer was just about up, but you were one of the few associates selected for a special night out with all of the top attorneys and partners. A few of your classmates told you the partners would occasionally extend job offers to the top performing summer associates for when they graduated and passed The Bar, but you knew there was a slim chance of that happening to you.
Your last day flew by. You weren’t assigned much actual “work”, instead you spent most of the day chatting with the other summer associates and a few of the junior attorneys. Before you knew it, you were signing out for the last time, and handing in your key card and laptop on your way out. Maria had her paralegal forward you all the details, the bar they selected was yet another establishment you normally wouldn’t be able to afford, The Raines Law Room at The William Hotel. One of your roommates went there once with her parents, and gushed about how pretty and unique the space was, so you were excited to see it for yourself. The firm had allotted you one more Uber on their card, and you fully intended to use it.
The drive was surprisingly short, as traffic was relatively light for a Friday night. You sent your roommates a text reminding them that you’d be out late, before focusing your attention out the window. It had almost been three years since you moved to New York for law school, against your parents wishes, and you were still in awe of it. Yes, it was filthy, and there were rats and cockroaches galore, but every major city was dirty. New York was full of history and culture; there were thousands of places to explore, and millions of other people who were trying to find where they fit into this beautiful, messy story. You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
You arrived at the bar just before eight, you had a habit of needing to be early for every social function you attended. The Raines Law Room was everything your roommate described, and even more so in person. It wasn’t the usual type of bar you’d go to, and it was broken up into multiple rooms with the actual bar in the center of it all. Many of the rooms were furnished with bookcases and cozy, expensive furniture that reminded you of a library. It didn’t take you long to find your group, as Tony had apparently rented one of the private rooms. There were only around twenty people in attendance, Maria wasn’t kidding when she told you it would be a small gathering. You recognized two of the other associates who had been invited, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, and you gave them a friendly wave.
Maria was in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the couches with her wife, Natasha Romanov. You’d only briefly encountered the redhead, as she did a lot of international travel for the firm. They were speaking with Tony Stark, the latter who appeared to be at the end of telling a very animated story. Maria noticed you lingering, and waved you over once Tony finished talking. You awkwardly made your way over, trying not to trip in the process; you’d always been terribly clumsy. There was an empty spot next to Maria, so you took a seat.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Maria warmly greeted you. “Do you remember my wife, Natasha?”
“Of course, it’s great to see you again,” You said to the woman sitting on the other side of Maria.
Natasha offered you a small smile, wrapping her arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Maria’s been telling me all summer how much of a help you’ve been, and believe me, she doesn’t praise just anyone.”
Maria nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “That’s not true, I just have high expectations, unlike someone.”
Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Right, of course dear.” She turned to Tony, who was scrolling through his phone. “Have you met Maria’s young mentee, Stark?”
He looked up at the mention of his name, and his eyes landed on you. “Oh right, I remember you. Maria’s been raving about you for the past few months, and Natasha’s right, that’s a pretty rare occurrence for her.”
Maria glared at him, clearly unamused. “Funny as always, Tony.”
Sticking out his hand, you took it and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much for the opportunity this summer, Mr. Stark. I’ve learned so much.”
Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. Have you met my other platonic, legal half? He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.”
“Most likely avoiding you,” Natasha quipped to Tony, her eyes scanning the room. “Looks like he’s over by my sister.”
Her sister? You turned your head to look around the room, until you saw Stephen lightly conversing with Yelena. You didn’t realize she was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha seemed to note your confusion.
“Yelena doesn’t like people to know we’re related,” Natasha explained, her tone more gentle as her eyes were locked on her sister. “She thinks people will say she only got the position because I work here.”
“Well she’s not entirely wrong,” Tony offered, ignoring the glare Natasha gave him, before wildly waving his arms to get Stephen’s attention. It didn’t take long for Stephen to notice, and you watched him frown.
“Did you need something, Tony?” Stephen questioned, annoyance clear by his tone.
“Well you keep lecturing me on not offering the summer associates jobs without you being present,” Tony pointed out, “God forbid I have any fun.”
“I only told you that because you once tried to convince half of them they could only have the job if they signed a contract saying they could only refer to you as their Overlord,” Stephen pointed out, and Natasha briefly snickered before Maria shot her a disapproving look.
“It was a joke!” Tony exclaimed, pointing at you. “Back me up here, if I told you that, you would know I was joking, right?”
“Um…” You trailed off, your brain replaying what he had just said to Stephen about jobs. “I’d probably have to read the contract first.”
Tony sighed, “The world isn’t what it used to be. Fine then, Strange, you’re up.”
Stephen sat down next to Tony, and just like the latter did, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “It’s nice to formally meet you. Maria’s kept us up to date on all the work you’ve been completing. How have you enjoyed your summer at the firm?”
“It’s been the most wonderful opportunity,” You raved, wondering if this conversation was heading where you desperately hoped it was. “I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”
Stephen nodded, “We’re always happy to see our summer associates take the opportunity to use all of the resources we have available. Now, at the end of every summer, we like to ask our senior attorneys if they would like to refer anyone for a job. Maria, as well as a handful of others, all recommended you.”
Your brain short circuited, not quite believing what you were hearing. “You’re offering me a job?”
“We’d like to invite you to join the firm as a junior associate once you’ve graduated and passed The Bar,” Stephen continued, and you felt faint. “It’s a written offer that we can send to you on Monday morning.”
“That you’ll have one of the paralegals email out on Monday morning,” Tony corrected him before looking back to you. “What do you say? Do you want to join the greatest firm in the city? The salary is competitive, of course. Full benefits and all.”
Natasha snickered again, only this time Maria didn’t try to stop her, and you remembered how Maria mentioned Tony liked to take this time to brag. There were so many emotions swirling around in your head, but you were mostly in shock.
Stephen seemed to notice you were overwhelmed. “You can take the weekend to think it over, and take a look at the offer on Monday. I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once.”
You nodded, grateful for that. “Thank you so much, Mr. Strange, Mr. Stark. I’m so thankful for the opportunity.”
“We’ll talk on Monday,” Tony reiterated, standing up, and practically dragged Stephen with him. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you so much,” You acknowledged Maria, who had been quietly conversing with Natasha. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening.”
“You deserve it,” Maria insisted, relaxing ever so slightly against Natasha. “Congratulations, and I hope we’ll be working together again next summer.”
“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Natasha lightly teased her wife, giving you a wink. “Congratulations, and good luck on your final year of school.”
You thanked them both for a final time, before letting them have some privacy. There were still so many thoughts rushing through your brain, and the room was so bright and so loud, you needed to clear your head. As you started walking out of the room, you entered the main bar and decided that you didn’t need to clear your head, you needed a drink. The bar was fairly quiet, with a few patrons scattered throughout the room. You made your way to an empty stool, and waited for the bartender to finish making a drink before you ordered a vodka tonic.
There was hardly anyone else sitting at the bar, except for a woman a few stools down from you. She had dark brown hair, tucked behind her ears, and she was sipping on a glass of some variety of red wine. From a quick glance, you could see she was reading something on her phone, and you watched the frown lines on her forehead deepen every so often as she continued to scroll. The bartender came back with your drink, and you thanked him before taking a small sip.
“Come here often?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you curiously turned your head to find the woman a few stools down was now staring at you.
“I beg your pardon?” You replied in confusion, wondering if she was talking to you.
The woman arched an eyebrow at you, and you felt your cheeks flush under her heated gaze. She stayed in her seat, but her eyes remained locked on yours. “Some people would call that a pick up line, but not you apparently.”
“Do you often hit on strangers in a bar?” You questioned, watching her take a sip of her wine.
“Well if you came and sat next to me, you wouldn’t be much of a stranger,” The woman countered, and patted the bar stool next to her.
This was crazy, you reasoned with yourself. This woman could be a lunatic, or a serial killer. But she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher, and her eyes were so blue that you could feel yourself slowly getting lost in them. Before you fully realized what you were doing, you scooted over until you were sitting next to her. Her red lips turned up in a smirk, and she shut her phone off, placing it in her bag. There was something so intriguing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“So what brings a pretty little thing like yourself here on a Friday night?” She asked curiously, her eyes hungrily searching yours, and you could feel your cheeks begin to darken at her words. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you the way she was.
“Um, I’m here for a work event,” You said quietly, unsure of how much information you were willing to share with a stranger. “An internship event, rather. What about you?”
The woman nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Mmm, this and that. I’m staying at The William for a few nights while my place gets redecorated,” There was a sparkling glint in her eyes as she added, “And there’s a rather spectacular view of the city from my room.”
The color deepened in your cheeks, and you chose to take a rather large sip of your drink. “Oh, that’s…interesting.”
“Isn’t it though,” The woman agreed, and you watched her fingers lightly twirl around the glass in her hand. “I never got your name, darling.”
“You didn’t ask,” You pointed out, and she smirked at you.
“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” She guessed, gracefully scooting her stool closer to yours, looking at you expectantly.
There was something so addictive about the way she was staring at you, and it made you lower your guard as you told her your name. She let out another low hum, and repeated it back to you, saying it nice and slowly, drawing out each syllable. At this point, she was close enough that you could smell her perfume. The rich notes of vanilla and lavender swirled together through your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more and more distracted. Taking another large sip of your drink, you realized it was nearly empty. The woman also seemed to notice, as she waved the bartender over.
“What are you drinking, dear?” She asked, her voice sweet like honey.
“A vodka tonic,” You replied, and she slid your empty glass towards the bartender.
“Another one of those, please, as well as a Pinot Noir. Put her drinks on my tab,” She instructed the bartender, ignoring your protest that you could pay for your own drinks.
“Don’t be silly,” She gently chided you, one of her hands moving up to brush your hair out of your face. “You have gorgeous eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”
Every compliment was leaving you more flustered than the last, and you had no idea how she was having this strong of an effect on you. It was the alcohol, your brain reasoned, that had to be it. “No, not really,” You replied, your voice growing more timid.
The woman let out a disapproving tsk, her fingers lingering on your face before slowly pulling away. “Disappointing, but not surprising.”
The bartender returned at that moment with your drinks, and you mumbled a quiet thank you, hoping this would give you some liquid courage. You realized at that moment she never told you her name.
Clearing your throat, you did your best not to sound as intimated as you were. She was this beautiful, sort of menacing, and slightly strange woman. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself. “You know, for someone who hounded me for my name, it’s a little odd you never told me yours.”
The woman smirked again, and you thought you saw her lick her lips. “You never asked, dear,” she pointed out, and her fingers reached out to lightly brush yours. “I’m Agnes.”
Her touch, light as it was, felt like a shock of electricity coursing through your system. You kept waiting for her to let go of your hand, but instead she gently turned it so your palm was visible, and began tracing patterns on it as she sipped her wine.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agnes,” You said, your courage slowly disappearing, and you weren’t sure what it was that you wanted from her, you just knew you didn’t want her to stop touching you.
Agnes laughed, the rich sound ringing deliciously in your ears. “Believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine.”
The hand stroking your palm began to make its way up your arm, and you were embarrassed by the goosebumps you felt by having her hands on you. Agnes also seemed to notice this reaction, and she was looking as if she wanted to eat you alive. She leaned in closer to you, her breath hot on your ear as she whispered, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to continue this discussion in my hotel room. Would you care to join me?”
It would seem tonight was just full of surprises. Her face was so close to yours, and your brain was still actively short circuiting. You’d barely spent any time with this woman, and you only knew her first name, but it didn’t matter. It was clear what this was, a one night stand. This didn’t have to mean anything, and you were riding a high from your job offer; you didn’t want it to mean anything. All you knew was that her breath was hot in your ear, and her fingers were lightly gripping your arm, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed her.
Fearing you wouldn’t be able to produce any actual words, you wordlessly nodded in agreement. Agnes proceeded to close out her tab, and you made a quick note of the Black AmEx card the bartender returned to her. She guided you out of the room, her hand grazing your lower back. You felt like you were floating, and the only thing grounding you to reality was the feel of her fingers stroking your back, slowly moving lower with every step you took.
Upon reaching the elevators, Agnes waited for you to enter before following, and pressed the button for her floor. As soon as the doors closed, it was as if a switch went off. Her hands were all over you, and within a moment you were against the wall of the elevator. While her right hand stayed pressed against your back, moving down to grab at your ass, her left moved up to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes began to darken with arousal, and before you could even process what was happening she kissed you.
You’d been kissed before, and you thought you knew how good it could be, but that was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against yours. She kissed you with fervor, like a woman starving and you were her salvation. Her lips were so soft and smooth against your own, it was addictive. As she lightly slapped your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to her, you let out a moan and she took that opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips. She tasted faintly of Pinot Noir, and you eagerly allowed her to dominate your mouth. Her hips jutted against yours, creating just enough friction for you to imagine how much better it would feel to have more.
The elevator dinged, signaling you were at her floor, and she reluctantly broke your kiss. You let out a quiet whine and Agnes chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Patience, honey. My room is right down the hallway.”
She nearly had to drag you along, as your legs were starting to shake, and the walk to her room seemed endless. When you finally reached it, she hurriedly tapped her keycard to unlock the door. Yanking you inside, she slammed your back against the door, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Wasting no time, she began messing with the clasp of your dress, and as it became undone she helped you out of it, leaving you in your bra and panties. The older woman let out a low growl, and pulled you flush against her. Moving you towards the bed, she nearly tore your bra and panties off in the process, before laying you flat on your back.
She straddled your hips, and when you attempted to move your hands up to her waist she swatted them back down. “Be a good girl and behave,” Agnes warned lightly. “I’d hate to have to restrain you.”
You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at that threat. Agnes smirked again, taking her shirt off and tossing it across the room, revealing a lacy dark purple bra. She leaned down and kissed you again, lightly biting your lower lip, causing you to groan into her mouth. It felt like she was all around you, but you needed more. You always prided yourself on your patience, but you were quickly losing it. Her lips left yours to trail down your jaw and the side of your neck, stopping near your collarbone. She began to leave hot, wet kisses along it, before biting down on the flesh at the base of your neck and sucking.
“Fuck,” You cried out at the sensation, and you heard her let out a low hum in response, keeping up her ministrations.
She left dozens of marks on you, and you were too lost in the haze of how good she felt to remember you were starting classes in two days. Her hands were relentless, moving all over your body. As her lips began to alternate attention between your breasts, her right hand moved between your thighs, and you both moaned as she felt how wet you were.
“Is all this for me, baby?” She murmured, raising her head up to yours, using two fingers to lightly tease your aching pussy. “What a pretty girl, dripping for me.”
Moaning, you arched your hips up, she was so close and you needed her fingers inside, filling you. “Please, Agnes.”
Letting out a low tutting noise, she pulled her fingers back. You whined, louder this time, and her responding grin sent a shiver down your spine. “Please what, honey? Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me,” You begged, desperate to feel her fingers on you again. “Please, fuck me.”
“Good girl,” Agnes praised you, roughly thrusting two fingers inside you, going deeper than you normally could on your own.
Her fingers were so long, and so good, as she set a fast pace, twisting and hitting all of the sweet spots in you. You could barely breathe, all you could focus on was how good it felt to have her fucking you. Her thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit, and the added stimulation made you cry out. You were soaked, the movement of her fingers taking you created an obscenely filthy sound that filled the room. It didn’t take long until you felt a familiar unraveling, signaling you were close to orgasming.
“Such a good little whore, you’re taking me so well,” Agnes cooed and you felt yourself clench at her words. “Do you like this? Do you like having me fuck your tight little cunt?”
“Oh my fucking-” You cried out, but were cut off as she chose that moment to add a third finger, expertly curling them and bringing you that much closer to your release.
“That’s it, slut,” Agnes growled, fucking you even harder. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my fingers.”
“Agnes, please,” You whined, needing to feel yourself come undone. “Please I need…”
Agnes smirked, not relenting in her efforts, and began to leave kisses around the edge of your mouth. “What do you need, baby? Use your words for me.”
“Need to come, please. I need to come,” You babbled, as she took you higher and higher with every thrust of her fingers, and your words caused the older woman to groan.
“Come on my fingers, sweetheart,” Agnes ordered, and you felt yourself lose focus as the pleasure overcame you.
It was mind numbingly good, and you barely recognized the scream that left your throat. All you could feel were her fingers inside you, gently coaxing you through your orgasm. Her fingers slowly stilled, and you felt yourself pulse around them as her thumb gently eased off your clit. Pressing a sweet, slow kiss against your lips, Agnes pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine at how empty you felt.
“You took me so well,” Agnes purred, and you felt yourself drip even more at her words. “Such a slutty little pussy, you can’t even form complete sentences when I’m fucking you.”
You groaned, the filth spewing out of her mouth was a major turn on for you. “It’s not my fault you’re turning my brain into mush.”
Agnes fake pouted at you. “Oh, poor baby,” She mocked, pressing her hips against yours. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to use that little brain while I’m fucking you.”
“Want to taste you,” You moaned out, the idea just popping into your head. “Please.”
“Oh? You want to eat me out, baby?” Agnes questioned, her eyes growing darker yet still from arousal. “Do you want me to ride that pretty little face?”
“Fuck yes,” You begged, causing Agnes to chuckle before taking off her pants and panties, and moving you closer to the headboard before she straddled your face.
You could smell her; the scent was musky and sweet and you were salivating, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. Agnes rested one hand on the headboard and the other in your hair, slowly lowering herself onto your mouth. You wasted no time, licking and sucking, tasting her arousal. The guttural moan she let out spurred you on, eager to please her. She tasted so fucking good, and your tongue lapped up as much of her as you could. Her fingers tightened in your hair as she began to rock against your face, and you moaned against her as she roughly tugged.
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, baby,” Agnes panted as she moved her hips faster. “You’re doing so well. Such a good job. Suck on my clit.”
Ever hoping to please her, you switched to swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking, hard. The moan she let out, louder than before, was entrancing. Her fingers kept your head in place as she rode your face, and you could sense her getting closer to the edge. Your tongue teased her entrance, slowly pushing inside and Agnes let out a loud hiss, encouraging you to go deeper.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck,” Agnes began to grind down, getting closer with every thrust of your tongue. “Such a sweet fucking mouth. Do you want me to come all over that pretty face?”
Nodding against her, you sucked and licked, thoroughly enjoying being used by her. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder, hips thrusting even harder against your face as she let herself go. She tugged on your head as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, and you never saw something quite so beautiful. Her eyes were closed, head back as she let out several loud grunts, the sound causing you to twitch. You moaned at the taste of her cum, eager to get as much as you could. Her hips slowly stopped, and she gave herself a moment before lifting herself off of you, collapsing on the bed. She immediately pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you. Her body was flush against yours, and you relished at the feeling of her tits pressed against your back. She was so soft, and so warm; every part of her felt like heaven to you.
She began to nuzzle your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin. “Fuck that was so good. Thank you, honey.”
“It was my pleasure,” You drawled out, growing more tired with every word you spoke, slowly feeling yourself drift off.
Agnes murmured something to you, but you were too far gone to hear what she said. The last thing you remembered was the feel of her body curled up around you as you finally passed out from exhaustion. You weren’t sure how long you slept, for when you finally woke up the room was filled with bright sunlight, causing you to wince. It didn’t take you long to realize you were alone, and the already large bed felt ten sizes too big. A part of you wondered if Agnes was in the bathroom, but when you eventually made it out of bed you realized she was gone. The room was completely empty, save for you and your clothes from last night.
You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected, it was a one night stand after all. But, you had assumed she would at least still be there in the morning when you woke up. Shaking those thoughts aside, you rushed to pick up your clothes and get dressed. As you were putting on your clothes, you noticed a small folded up note with your name on it on the bedside table. You slipped your heels back on before grabbing it, and was slightly disappointed to see how short it was.
Thanks again for a great night. -A
Well, at least she left you something. You crumpled the note and stuck it in your purse, leaving the room without a second thought. The next two days were spent in a daze, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes. Your roommates were thrilled to hear about your job offer, and even more intrigued to hear of your night out with an older woman. You kept the details to a minimum, as you always kept those things more private, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. By the time Sunday night rolled around you were absolutely spent. You had just finished marking up your planner for the next few weeks with your class schedule, and double checked the time for your first class as you set your alarm for bed before finally drifting to sleep.
Unfortunately, the exhaustion from the last few days made you sleep through your alarms, which almost never happened. But, after hearing your alarms go off one after another, one of your roommates came to check on you, the knocking on your door sent you shooting out of bed. You rushed through the apartment, throwing your laptop and books in your bag. As you were getting dressed, your eyes landed on the hickeys all over your neck, and you groaned. Great. Despite it still being summer, and extremely hot in the city, you wore a lightweight turtleneck. The lecture halls and library were usually freezing, so this wouldn’t seem too out of place to anyone.
Luckily your apartment was only a few blocks away from campus, and it never took you more than ten minutes to get there. You kept obsessively checking your watch, hoping to make it to your first class in time. Finally, you reached the correct building, and pulled up the class schedule on your phone to check which room you were in. Whipping around the corner, you spotted the door at the far end of the hallway. With one minute to go, you passed other students and professors, not a thought in your mind besides making it through those doors. Reaching the lecture hall, you opened the doors and went inside.The hall was relatively full, and as you searched for an empty seat you heard your professor begin to speak.
“Welcome to Ethics and Professional Responsibility in Criminal Practice.”
Wait a second, you knew that voice. How did you know that voice? You looked up, finding the last person you ever expected to run into, and you almost fell out of your chair. Standing there on the floor of the lecture hall was a strikingly familiar woman. It was the same woman from the other night, Agnes. Her messy dark brown hair was pulled back into an updo, and she wore an expensive looking black pantsuit. She was pulling up a slideshow on the laptop, so her back was turned, but it was her. You knew it was her. The strange thing was you didn’t remember reading her first name on the syllabus that had been sent out a few weeks prior.
After she finished projecting the slideshow, she turned her focus to the crowded lecture hall. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Agatha Harkness,” Her eyes scanned the room, until they eventually landed on you, and you watched her freeze, before quickly regaining her composure. “And I’ll be your professor for the semester.”
Fuck.
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audhd-author · 1 year ago
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Drunk in Love
It's time for the annual Stark Industries Gala and Tony realises rather quickly, he maybe outdid himself too far when choosing your outfit for the night.
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3643 words
NSFW(18+)
Soft sex, alcohol use, fluff, praise kink, heavy smut, slight degradation, creampies, restraints, marking kink, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play.
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Pulling the top off of your red lipstick tube, you carefully apply it, using the mirror to make sure you accentuate your cupid’s bow. It isn’t your first time attending the annual Stark Industries Gala, having attended last year’s one as a newly initiated Avenger. But yet, this time is even more nerve-wracking given you’re attending as Tony’s date. The two of you had been dating for nearly seven months now and he never failed to spoil you with expensive, intimate gifts. This time is no different. The black floor-length dress he had chosen hugged every intricate curve of your body, the soft fabric draping over your skin.
Opening the black jewellery box laid out on the nightstand, a soft breath escapes you. Inside lies a silver necklace, detailed with intricate gems. The metal is a cool and relieving weight around your neck as you fasten it. Returning back to the mirror, you let the music playing through the speaker flow through your body. Michelle Morrone’s “Drink Me” begins to play and you softly sing along to the lyrics as you stare in the mirror. Catching movement out the corner of your eye, a smirk pulls at your lips as you catch Tony’s eyes in the mirror. You’re unsure as to how long he’d been leaning against the doorframe but the way his black 3 piece suit highlighted his form made your legs weak. “See something you like, baby?” You grin as he comes up behind you, his hands brushing your hair over one shoulder as he leans to place a tender kiss in the crook of your exposed neck.
“You look good enough to eat, my love.” He groans, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder as his hands trail down the curves of your waist. A fire burns in your core at his touch, a sigh escaping you as your head leans back against the firm muscles in his shoulder. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep my hands off of you tonight, darling.” His voice is a tone deeper than usual, the vibrations rushing over your skin as he brushes his lips up to your jawline.
Turning around to face him, your arms rest on his shoulders as his hands pull your hips flush against his body. Leaning up, you brush your lips against his, a sensation you didn’t know you so desperately craved until now. His lips gently return the gesture before you pull away, a soft smile pulling at your mouth. “Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, Happy’s waiting outside with the limo.” You laugh, giving him a wink as you grab your handbag, your hips swaying slightly more than usual as you walk away from him. A strained chuckle escapes Tony as he follows you out of the room, one hand wrapped around your waist.
_______
To say that the night had been long would be an understatement, the intense flirtations between you and Tony had escalated from teasing hands on thighs to dirty words whispered in each other’s ears. His speech, as always, was delivered to a thunderous applause from the audience and the gala had been nothing short of a success. You and the rest of the Avengers had resorted back to the tower, now having a private afterparty in the lounge. Tony has pulled your legs over his lap as you let your head rest on his shoulder, his hands stroking up your inner thigh over the silk of your dress. One hand holding onto your whiskey, the other lays on his chest as you take a sip. “The minute this party is over, I can guarantee I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” Tony’s voice is low, his lips brushing over your earlobe as he murmurs this, your core twisting in desire.
You grin, letting your teeth gently nibble the top of his ear as you lean forward to reply. “Is that a threat or a promise?” You smirk as a strained breath escapes him, a low growl sounding in his throat as his eyes darken. “Oh love, it's a fact.” He replies before taking a sip of his scotch. “Alright guys, guys, guys.” Natasha slurs, a few drops of her vodka escaping her glass as she overly excitedly leans forward. “We’re gonna play Truth or Drink because a few of you seem to be way too sober right now.” She says, her gaze aimed pointedly at Tony and you sitting on the couch. You laugh in response. “I’m sorry, I’m not a lightweight then.”
“Truth or Drink? I’m unfamiliar with this game.” Thor says, his words slightly slurred as he takes a gulp from his beer.
“Basically, one person asks a question to the group. If you don’t want to answer, you take a drink.” Wanda says, her champagne glass precariously tipped in her hand. Thor nods before responding. “Alright, I’m in.” Everyone else nods in agreement, including you as you finish the last sip in your glass. “Let me just fill my drink up then.” You laugh, flinging your legs off Tony’s lap, much to his dismay. Standing up, you walk over to the bar, about to just grab your typical Wild Moose until your eyes land on the bottle of Fireball on the shelf. Grabbing it, you take a seat back next to Tony, whose hand pulls your legs back over his lap as you do. “Ooh Y/N’s feeling bold!” Clint laughs, seeing the bottle of spirits in your hand. You grin. “What can I say, I drink to get drunk. Alright Nat, what’s the first question?”
She takes a moment before her eyes flash excitedly. “Would you guys ever consider being a stripper?”
“Oh absolutely,” Rhodey says, to agreement from Tony and Wanda. Everyone else says no, which you expected. Nat turns to you. “What about you Y/N?” A grin pulls at your lips as you reply. “I was a stripper for a while so yeah, I would.”
“What!?” Wanda exclaims, leaning back in her seat in shock, a laugh escaping you at her reaction. “Yeah, I was in a bit of a rough place a few years ago, I needed money and I knew stripping earnt well. So for about a year, I worked at Rick’s Cabaret in town.” Tony knew about all this, neither of you knew at the time but he had been one of the main reasons you made so much money.
“That question was too easy Nat, we’re never going to get drunk if they’re all like that.” Steve laughs, tripping over his tongue, trying to speak. She shoots him a look before sipping from her glass. “Why don’t you ask the questions if you’re so cocky about it.” She grumbles, Steve, grinning in response. “Alright then, if you were going to recreate any sex scene in a movie, what one would it be?” Immediately, Peter, Thor, and Vision take a drink, a deep blush spreading over Peter’s cheeks. “I haven’t seen that many movies,” Thor admits.
“Well it’s not entirely a sex scene but I’d love to recreate the handprint left in the steamed window of the car in Titanic with someone,” Clint says, grinning sheepishly as we nod in agreement.
“The pottery scene in Ghost,” Nat says as Rhodey laughs. “That was my answer as well.”
“Achilles and Briseis’ scene in Troy,” Wanda admits, a blush appearing on her cheeks.
“50 Shades.” Tony’s hand moves further up your thigh as he says this, a heat flushing through your veins at the action. Taking a sip from your bottle, you answer. “The boat scene from 365 Days.” Bruce nods. “What she said.” Everyone looks at Steven, the only one to have not said anything yet. He shakes his head, exhaling. “Yeah, I agree with Tony. 50 Shades.”
“Ooh, I’ve got a question,” Wanda says, accidentally tipping her champagne glass a bit too far in excitement. “Have you ever faked an orgasm?”
All of the guys, bar Tony, Bruce, and Steven, shake their heads no. “A few times, yeah,” Bruce says, as Tony nods, rubbing your thigh reassuringly to confirm never with you. “I’ve only faked it once, funny enough it was the first time I had sex.” Steven laughs, sipping from his glass of whiskey. “I think I can say that yes, all of us girls have faked it,” Nat says as Wanda and I nod in agreement. “Oh for sure. I had to fake it every time before I met Tony just to get them to stop.”
“Honestly! Like it gets to a point where you’re just lying there and nothing’s happening for you and you just want to go home so you can finish yourself.” Wanda can’t control her laughter upon hearing Nat’s response. Tony’s hand tightens its grip on your thigh as he leans towards your ear. “Did you seriously just say you’d never orgasmed from someone else apart from me?” His voice comes out in a low growl that makes your legs pulsate with desire as you nod. “Then I’ll make sure you cum until you’re dry tonight, darling.” He smirks as he pulls away, his pupils dilated with arousal. Taking a deep breath to calm your intensely beating heart, you bring the bottle to your lips, letting the cinnamon liquid burn a delicious fire down your throat.
_______
It was well after midnight and countless drinks consumed before everyone decided to get some sleep, though Tony and you had different plans. Tony’s hands grab your hips as you wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your lips pressed firmly against his, breathy moans escape you as the two of you stumble through the penthouse to your bedroom. One hand trails from your hip to your back, unzipping the dress as it falls to the floor, revealing the matching red lace lingerie underneath. Pushing you backwards onto the bed, Tony crawls over you, positioning his knee between your legs, grinding it against your heat. A low groan emits from his throat at the sight of you beneath him. “I love seeing you in that dress but I’ve wanted to take it off from the moment I saw you in it.” He pushes himself up to pull his suit jacket off his shoulders. Grabbing his tie, you pull him back down, his lips finding yours as his hands roam over your now-exposed side. His lips wander down from your jawline, over your collarbone, to the dip in between your breasts, breathy moans escaping you as he does.
Kicking your heels off, Tony does the same to his shoes as he lets his tongue dart over your clothed nipple. The lace of your bra mixing with the heat of his tongue makes your head fall back in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. His thumb reaches up to rub over your other nipple in circular motions, a soft moan falling off your lips. The alcohol aids in the pleasure, making you feel dizzy as he continues his ministrations. He reaches his hand under your back to unclasp your bra before sucking your nipple into his mouth, his name escaping you in a pleasured moan. You can feel him smirk against your skin as your back arches closer towards him. “Already so desperate, aren’t you baby?” He teases as you nod, his mouth trailing light kisses down the sensitive skin of his stomach. Positioning himself in between your legs, he lifts one over his shoulder, kissing from your knee up your inner thigh.
With each kiss, he inches closer to where you need him most, sending waves of anticipation through your body, pooling in your core. You can feel your arousal gather in your lace panties as he places a soft kiss on the waistband of them. Grasping the waistband in his teeth, he pulls them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed before him. “Fuck, so wet for me.” He murmurs before darting his tongue out to collect your arousal from your entrance, your back arching for more. “Tony, please.” You plead as he continues slowly licking up your slit, stopping just before your desperate clit.
“Easy darling, we’ve got all night.” He grins, your arousal glistening on his beard as he looks up at your body with darkened eyes. One hand desperately grasping at the covers, your other entangles itself in his hair, pushing him closer to your heat. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he lightly grazes his lips over your sensitive mound, extracting a soft moan from you. Lightly tracing around your clit with his tongue, you raise your hips, desperate to get more friction. His hands grasp your hips, holding you in place as he nips at your inner thigh, a pleasured gasp escaping you as he does. “Move your hips again and I’ll edge you until you’re begging for release, is that clear?” He growls against your clit, the vibrations making your legs feel weak, arousal continuing to leak out of you. You nod your head in response. “Good girl.” God, the effect those two words have on you is indescribable. Your core twists with pleasure as he dives his head back in between your legs, sucking your clit between his lips.
Your grip tightens in his hair as he flattens his tongue, flicking your mound gently. The hand that was entangled in the sheets flies up to your mouth as a moan escapes you. Almost immediately, his hand pins yours to the bed. “Don’t you dare, I want to hear you, angel.” He murmurs against your clit, his name falling off your lips as the vibrations of his voice echo through your body. Keeping your body still with one hand on your stomach, his other runs two fingers over your entrance, a shiver crashing over your body. Your back arches off the bed, his name falling off your lips as you feel his fingers gently push inside you. “You sound almost as good as you taste, darling.” He groans, his tongue circling over your clit as he curls his fingers into the sensitive spongy flesh inside you. A string of curses escapes you in a breathy moan as he slowly pumps his digits inside you, curling against your sweet spot with precision. You can feel your first high approaching, your legs beginning to shake on Tony’s shoulders. With each delicious flick of his tongue, each precise thrust of his fingers, he brings you closer to your orgasm. The coil in your stomach tightens as a hot flush runs through your body.
Stars flood your vision as the coil finally snaps, your body shaking, Tony’s name falling off your lips in a pleasured moan. A groan sounds from him as he tastes your release on your tongue, not slowing down his actions. Sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth, a sultry groan escapes you as he helps you ride out your high. Moving up your body, his fingers still move in and out of you, his palm rubbing over your clit as he presses his lips to yours. He runs his tongue over your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you gladly grant him. You can taste yourself on his lips, moaning into them as his palm continues its ministrations. Your hands reach up to undo the buttons of his black undershirt as he reaches down to undo his belt with his free hand.
Shrugging his shirt over his shoulders, you remove his tie as he pulls the belt out from his pants in one smooth movement. He chucks it beside your head before leaning down to place his lips on your neck. With his hand still bringing you closer to your second release, he sucks the sensitive skin of your neck into his mouth, gently biting down with his teeth. A desperate moan escapes you as he does, hues of purple and red spreading over your skin as he finally pulls away. Your body twitches as his fingers press against your sweet spot, his mouth trailing back down to your nipples, which had been left unattended for far too long in Tony’s opinion. Gently biting down on your left one, you let out a breathy gasp as the pleasure and pain mix together to form a desperate desire in your core. Moving over to the other one, he repeats the same action as his left hand comes up to rub lightly over the top of your other hardened nipple. Your orgasm overtakes you, your eyes rolling back into your head as your body spasms under him, a string of moans leaving your lips in a breathless gasp. Your legs shake around Tony’s waist, tingling from the pleasure coursing through your veins.
Slowing down the movements with his hand, he rubs his thumb over your clit in circular motions as he helps you ride out your second high, your chest rising heavily with each breath. He gently pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to your lips. You gladly take them into your mouth, your tongue running up the side of each of his fingers individually as you taste your juices. A soft groan escapes him as you suck your cheeks around his fingers, maintaining eye contact with him as you do. “Fuck, that’s my good little slut.” He murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to unbutton his pants, pulling them down his legs. You can see the dark patch on his grey boxers from his precum and you groan at the sight, desperately needing him. “Give me your hands, darling.” He says, his voice deep with desire for you. You’re quick to obey as he grabs the belt off the bed, raising your hands to the headboard before tying them securely. Your hands now restrained above you, you can only watch with anticipation as he removes his boxers, freeing himself.
He crawls back over you, positioning himself in between his legs as he rubs himself against your slit. A desperate moan escapes you as he continues to tease you. “Tony, please. I need you.” You breathe as he smirks. How could he deny such a request? A groan escapes the both of you as he pushes himself inside you. You can feel your body weaken as your walls stretch around him, his member filling every inch of you. “You’re so tight, love.” He breathes, laying a kiss on your shoulder before slowly withdrawing himself and pressing back in. Each thrust, slow and loving, his mouth kissing every inch of bare skin it can reach as he rubs against your sweet spot with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good.” A moan escapes you as you say this, your eyes rolling back in your head as he groans, your walls tightening around him. A hand on each side of your head, he leans down to press his lips to yours, swallowing each moan he receives from you. The early morning moonlight casts a dim light over the room through the open curtains, highlighting your body with a soft glow. Your tongues intertwine as the kiss deepens, the only thing you can feel is pleasure as he continues to move inside you.
“You look fucking gorgeous, love.” He whispers as he breaks the kiss, the both of you gasping for air. You’re grateful for the dim lighting, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment. “I love you.” You breathe, as he chuckles, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. “I love you more, darling.” He murmurs before a groan escapes him, his hips bucking deeper into yours. One of his hands moves to trace lightly down your side, resting on your stomach, intensifying the feeling of him inside you. Your lips are slightly parted, your head falls back as your back arches towards him, a moan escaping you as he begins to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with each thrust of his hips, his name exiting you in a string of moans as you can feel yourself pulsing around him. “Fuck, darling.” He curses, his hand moving from your stomach to your clit, his thumb rubbing it in circular motions as he continues to push into you.
“Oh god, Tony.” You breathe as you reach your third orgasm, your walls clenching tightly around him as your body convulses. His hips buck as a low groan escapes him, strings of his hot releases coating your insides as he pulls your body closer. Lightheaded, your body continues to pulse with pleasure as he slows down his thrusts, the two of you breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against yours. With your legs still shaking, the two of you stay breathing in each other’s scent for what seems like hours. Exhaling deeply, Tony pulls out of you as you wince, sensitive. Leaning forward to undo your restraints, he places a kiss against your forehead before getting up and walking into your ensuite.
Still breathing heavily and your body tingling with pleasure, you barely have the energy to watch his naked figure disappear into the next room. You can hear the tap running before he re-emerges a couple of seconds later with a damp towel. Repositioning himself between your legs, he places a kiss on your hip bone, gently cleaning up the remainder of your arousal from your inner thighs before throwing the towel to the washing basket in the corner of the room. Crawling up the bed, he pulls the both of you under the covers as his arm crosses over your chest, pulling your back flush to his chest. “I love you, my darling.” He murmurs, inhaling deeply as he kisses your shoulder. “I love you more.” Your words are slurred, both from pleasure and alcohol, as you let your tiredness overtake your pleasure-filled body.
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vestaignis · 10 months ago
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Завораживающие объемные картины в технике скульптурная живопись от Евгении Ермиловой.
Mesmerizing three-dimensional paintings using the sculptural painting technique from Evgenia Ermilova.
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Евгения Ермилова -российский художник, автор техники создания объемных картин из специального армированного акрила "скульптурная живопись". Член Евразийского Художественного Союза.У Евгении 2 художественных образования: "Художник-колорист" в Техникуме художественного промышленного дизайна и "Художник модельер" в Ивановской государственной текстильной академии.
Евгения создает в своей студии в Краснодаре объемные картины, а также великолепные предметы интерьера и дизайн-проекты: часы, зеркала, бижутерию, дамские сумочки и т.д.
Произведения Евгении выставляются в международных галереях Saatchi Art, Artfinder, Singulart. Картины находятся в частных коллекциях в России, США, Великобритании, Японии, ОАЭ, Саудовской Аравии.
Evgenia Ermilova is a Russian artist, author of the technique of creating three-dimensional paintings from special reinforced acrylic “sculptural painting”. Member of the Eurasian Artistic Union. Evgenia has 2 artistic degrees: “Colorist” at the College of Artistic Industrial Design and “Fashion Designer” at the Ivanovo State Textile Academy. Evgeniya creates three-dimensional paintings in her studio in Krasnodar, as well as magnificent interior items and design projects: watches, mirrors, jewelry, handbags, etc. Eugenia's works are exhibited in international galleries Saatchi Art, Artfinder, Singulart. The paintings are in private collections in Russia, the USA, Great Britain, Japan, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia.
Источник://www.livemaster.ru/topic/3738900-article-zoloto-v-skulpturnoj-zhivopisi,//vk.com/sculptural_painting,//evgenia-ermilova.com/aboutme.
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mybeingthere · 3 months ago
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Billie Zangewa (born in 1973 in Malawi, lives in Johannesburg, South Africa) is a Malawian artist who hand sews silk fabrics to create collage tapestries.
Billie graduated with a Bachelors of Fine Arts from Rhodes University, South Africa after studying printmaking. Her mother worked in the textiles industry on sewing and embroidery. As a child she witnessed the bond between her mother and other women as they sewed, along with other domestic tasks together, which would influence the themes of motherhood in her work. In her artistic training, she tested several modes of expression, but finally became passionate about the work of silk, both because of her interest in the fabrics, its luminosity and reflective qualities. She indicated that: "Silk has a fabulous quality of reflection but at the same time, I think it is very modern and at the forefront of fashion".
Zangewa's early textile work consisted of the production of patchwork handbags, using scenes taken from the city of Johannesburg. When the artist first started creating the larger-scale collages she is now well known for, she more heavily relied on the usage of text, images with a pop art influence, and, sometimes, effects including embroidery, beads, and mats on the surface of the fabric.
Billie Zangewa works primarily with raw silk offcuts in intricate hand-stitched collages, creating figurative compositions that explore her intersectional identity in the contemporary context and challenge the historical stereotyping, objectification and exploitation of the black female body.
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monstersandmaw · 3 months ago
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Here's August's offering for you! Hope you enjoy it - I had fun with writing it! We return to Starfall Springs!
Content: seemingly-grumpy, slightly older, scarred, Shire centaur meets peppy human female in a DIY store after his niece spills a lot of pink paint on the floor, and each is instantly attracted to the other. When the reader's truck breaks down a week later, it must be fate when the same centaur comes across her on the side of the road and offers to tow her truck to his mate's garage in Starfall Springs. One thing leads to another, and the two get better acquainted. Mention of alcohol, but no inebriation.
Nsfw: non-penetrative sex, messy intercrural sex, outdoor but not public sex, reader receives oral, cis female terminology used. Both parties also say 'fuck' a lot.
Wordcount: 9453
Preview:
Despite having moved to the foothills of the Glasspeak Mountains almost six months ago, you’d only been into the quaint little town of Starfall Springs a handful of times.
Now that you’d fixed most of the structural issues in your off-grid cabin — at least the estate agent had been very open with you about the modernisation needed on the property — you were turning your hand to making it prettier.
The urgency of the advancing year and the upcoming winter had driven you into a DIY frenzy over the summer months to get the place functional, and now that it was done, you never wanted to feel PTFE tape between your fingers, or see a wrench or a screwdriver again. You’d had drywall dust in places you never wanted drywall dust too. But, while the place was no longer letting water in from places it shouldn’t, or letting water out from places it shouldn’t, it did look very stark and very bare, with raw wooden surfaces and no colours or comforts.
Right on the edge of Starfall Springs was a small industrial park which somehow still managed to look leafy and quaint. The lot was made up of three large warehouses, one a rambling garden centre overflowing with verdant life, another a dealership for all sorts of motor-vehicles, from centaur-accessible vans to naga-accessible motorcycles, and the last was a DIY and home improvement centre, selling everything from plumbing supplies to lumber, and even offering bespoke kitchen and bathroom refurbishments. You’d saved yourself the cost of the latter by doing them yourself, but the staff there knew you like family for how many times you’d been back to ask where to find all the things you needed for the cabin.
You’d supported Dhurak’s small hardware store nearer the centre of Starfall Springs when you’d first moved there, thinking it would be better to support an independent business, but as it turned out, these stores weren’t franchises of larger chains, and were in fact also independent businesses. The parking in the centre of Starfall Springs also wasn’t great, especially since you drove a huge pickup truck, and this place had literally everything you could ever need. It even had a crafts section on the off-chance you decided to take up knitting for the winter months.
So it was that, halfway down the lighting aisle, you heard a high-pitched, whinnying whine coming from the next aisle over, followed by the stamp of small hooves and then a loud clatter. Someone inhaled sharply as if about to curse, and then a deep, resigned voice said in a rather clipped, northern burr, “I told you to let me get it down, Clara. Now we’ll have to pay for that as well.”
“I- I’m…” came a quavering response, and then the sound of a child crying in quick, ugly gulps.
You pushed your laden trolley around the corner and saw a huge, black-coated centaur’s muscular backside as the figure bent one foreleg and ‘bowed’ down at the front. To your surprise, he scooped up a much smaller centaur under her belly, like a fashionable lady grabbing a wayward handbag-dog, and lurched back up onto all four hooves. He stepped easily away from a slowly-spreading mess of spilled pink paint all over the tiled warehouse floor, still with the young centaur tucked under one arm.
Backing up a few paces on hooves that had to be as big as dinner plates, the figure set down the young child and said in a strained voice that was clearly trying very hard to be patient, “I’ll have to go and tell someone we made a mess. You need to stay here while I do that. Do not move, Clara, and do not touch anything else. You understand me.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Uncle Jack,” she sniffled as she got a hold of herself again, cuffing at her face with her sleeve.
Unlike him, she was tiny, but like him, her equine coat was jet black, and the skin of her upper, human torso was dark. To keep her equine body warm from the nippy, autumn wind outside, she wore a cosy-looking pink coat like a horse rug, and her human upper body was swathed in a voluminous, pink puffer jacket. Her hair was tied up in two high buns that looked like mouse ears and secured with pink scrunchies. With her dark eyes all watery and her mouth crumpled up into a pout, she looked adorable, and thoroughly miserable.
‘Uncle Jack’ did not look adorable. He looked… intimidating.
If Clara perhaps resembled a shaggy little Shetland pony, her uncle looked like a Shire centaur, with massive muscles in his bare equine body, and a shaggy, dark coat. To your surprise, he had a short and traditionally-docked tail, and his lovely, fluffy, white fetlocks were now spattered with pink paint. The pink didn’t lessen the impact of his presence at all. Your eyes travelled up his torso, swathed in a brown, waxed jacket, up to his weathered face, and you tried not to let your shock show when you found a set of four, huge, scars slashing across his rugged features. He looked like he’d been mauled by a bear at some point in his youth. His textured black hair was long and tied back in soft, fuzzy dreads at the nape of his neck, with flecks of grey streaking through it at the temples. His eyes though, were a startling, sapphire blue.
He turned carefully in the limited space that the aisle afforded him, and caught sight of you. You’d stopped in the dead centre of the aisle, and there was no way he could squeeze past you unless you tucked yourself right up against the side, so you hitched him a shy little smile and nudged your heavy, ungainly shopping cart over to one side so he could pass.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, ducking his head in a tight nod. “I’ll get this mess sorted out.”
“Don’t worry,” you smiled. “You want me to stay with her while you go find someone?”
He eyed you up and down with a frightening scowl on his scarred face, and then he scrubbed one rough-looking hand over his mouth, his short, dark beard rasping against what you could only assume were calluses on his hand to make that kind of noise. “Would you?”
You smiled. “Of course. I’ve had my fair share of paint related disasters in DIY stores, trust me.”
The centaur gave you an odd look at that, but he didn’t pry, and just nodded again and turned to look over his colossal shoulder, where the poor kid was standing and sniffling beside the widening tide of pale pink paint. “Clara, this kind human’s going to stay with you, ok? Don’t give her any trouble.”
Clara shook her head, giving you a wide-eyed look that told you she wasn’t entirely comfortable with being left with a stranger, and then mumbled, “Ok.”
“I’ll be two minutes,” he growled at you, and then stalked off to find a store attendant.
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nyc-looks · 2 years ago
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Danielle, 34
“I’m wearing a vintage jacket, vintage Marimekko skirt, vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt, 80s handbag, 50s apron, and Converse. The jewelry is all vintage except for the ’TY’ necklace from Fatima Nieto. What inspires my work currently is nature and the evolution of Spring. Seeing color and life re-emerge. Flower shapes and colors probably inspire me the most!”
Apr 1, 2023 ∙ Industry City
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merakiui · 2 years ago
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more octavinelle thoughts (albeit more floyd-focused) but!!! a concept in which you are an idol and the twins are your bodyguards and azul is your very scummy, sleazy manager who would do virtually anything so long as his star angelfish can shine brighter than the other idols and their agencies. though the idol industry is cutthroat and stressful, thanks to azul’s quick wit, the leech twins’ connections, and lots of smart investments you manage to gain success relatively quickly. that’s the entire point, after all, and yet even with your success in recent years there are ominous shadows that stretch far and wide. 
floyd dwells in these shadows, always teetering between being happy for your newfound success and loathing the fact that you’re so popular and busy now. even though he follows you everywhere (he and jade are bound to you via contract, but floyd could care less about the legal bond between the both of you), it’s always for business. he’s forced to keep within certain boundaries so as to not cause legal trouble, personal trouble, and just overall trouble for the fans and you. there are times he’s thought of wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him after it became an irritating chore to watch you pose for pictures or sign various things when fans would recognize and approach you. he wants to prove something by doing this, but he’s not sure what. prove that you’re untouchable to the general public—that only he can lay a finger on you? prove that you are no one’s idol? prove that you belong to him? 
floyd hates this feeling. it’s as if he’s wrapped in fishing netting and there’s no escaping no matter how much he bites and claws. the more he thrashes, the more it winds itself around him, constrictive and painful. it hurts to see you shine so brightly while knowing fully well he can’t truly have you. you’re meant to put on an act to prove to everyone that you are accessible and loyal only to the arts. therefore no romance for you. even your personal and work relationships are difficult to navigate because no matter who you’re associated with fans will get envious, or they’ll make rash judgements. 
floyd’s thought about yanking you up to his height to kiss you square on the mouth while out in public with you. he’s thought about taking you in the recording studio so they’ll have recordings of your voice as it wavers with moans and sobs, and for the right price azul can sell it to tabloid journalists and they’ll release it and the whole world will hear their slutty idol getting fucked by a faceless, mysterious bodyguard. then you’d truly be his because no one would want you. 
he’s thought about keeping his hand planted firmly on your hip when at social gatherings or clinging to you like a luxury handbag. jade often advises against it. as physical as floyd would love to be, he has to follow the rules. floyd hates the rules because he never knows what half of them are or what they entail. he’ll get away with fleeting touches when he can, masking them with the excuse of his job. if a fan attempts to get too handsy with you, he gets to put his hands on your shoulders and steer you away while jade politely advises them of the rules. 
floyd spends so long trapped in this troublesome stage of pining from afar, never to surpass any boundaries, always remaining as your bodyguard, that he begins to wonder if anything will ever change. he wants to get married; you can’t. he wants to settle down and start a family; you can’t. he wants to publicize his love; you can’t. there are so many things you can’t do and it’s so annoying. floyd tries to tell azul that it’s not fair—that you ought to be given more freedoms (“fuck the fans,” he often says)—but he may as well be a petulant child whining over impossible, unsolvable problems. this may be a reality to everyone else, but it isn’t the reality he wants. the reality he wants lies in unreality—in the far corners of his mind, each one a sugared fantasy he often considers when he needs material to get off to. thoughts of you in your pretty, frilly, elaborate idol outfits, each one shredded to pieces to get to warm skin beneath (he’ll buy you a dozen replacement outfits if it means you’ll let him fuck you; hell, he’ll spoil you rotten just so you continue to allow him to stand by your side as your most loyal bodyguard), have him falling over the edge into orgasmic bliss. god, you’re so perfect. so sweet. so soft. so deliciously noisy when you’re practically howling beneath him when he fucks you so hard the bed shudders (and the dreams always fall apart right when he’s about to tell you he loves you in the aftermath). fuck. he wants you all to himself. 
at some point, as his love twists into something unfathomably crooked, he gets it in his mind to knock you up. it’s the perfect solution! secret relationships, publicized romance, and rules be damned; a pregnancy would unravel the carefully crafted spool of thread azul has spent so long spinning to perfection. you really would be his then because it would be undeniable proof. and when your belly is so taut and round with his child, even with azul’s silver tongue, it will be impossible to explain away. and everyone would know. everyone would know you belong to him. your picture-perfect, successful world will cave in on itself, fold itself away into a packet of misery, and from the tendrils of bad, terrible, hateful things floyd will pull you free—right into his arms where you’re meant to be.
today you smiled at him, brought him a snack to thank him for his hard work, and tomorrow he’ll return the favor when he slips something into your drink so you’ll fall into your own little fantasy.
the idol industry is cutthroat, but then so is floyd.
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