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sin-sidejob · 2 years ago

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Inside Job — New Years

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, 18+, mentions of sex, allusions to sex, heavy petting, makeout, mentions of alcohol and food, limited consumption of alcohol and or food, genderless reader, gender-neutral pronouns and pet names, mentions of family.

contents: pretty mild considering my other work but tagged adult for safety. cute kissing and making out with your faves, their new or old holiday traditions, mentions of food and drinks and holiday fun. Happy New Year drama free and fillied with fun. Hope y'all enjoy!

a/n: Happy New Years!! From me and the shadow board to you all!! 💖

Brett Hand

the two of you manage to tuck into the corner of the bar you were celebrating in, Brett wanting to join in on the tradition you had with your friends of celebrating out on the town for New Year's and having fun with the family you've found and enjoying the moments and the hijinks that nearly always tend to ensue.

Brett, for some reason, keeps thinking that your friends don't like him when they've threatened you with either stealing him away should you ever hurt him or break his heart or just outright trading you out for Brett. You can't say you're upset, you'd say the same thing. You love this man.

"Thank you for letting me come along!" He exclaims over the music and the noise, bringing you a refill from the bar of the drink you had, making sure to take your drinks and cover them whenever you stepped away or had to use the restroom, taking a sip to assure you they were safe even though you trusted him with your life and told him so, constantly, "I'm having a lot of fun, your friends are kinda' great."

"Funny, they're saying the same about you honey," you murmur in his ear, taking the opportunity to talk low and drape yourself across him like velvet in the cadence of the atmosphere, "telling me everything I already know about, like how wonderful you are, how charming and sweet you can be. How handsome and smart you are," you carry on, littering kisses on the underside of his jaw, uncaring for anyone who manages to see.

"My Brett."

"Your Brett?" he laughs, hesitant and a little nervous, surprised at how affected he is by that statement on your lips. He feels you nod against him as you drape the hand holding your drink over his shoulder while you press your forehead against his neck. "Mhm, they keep threatin' to replace me with you should I treat you wrong."

"Really?"

You nod in response against him, not noting the awe and surprise in his tone and how taken aback he is, always forgetting how your boy is so easily swayed by himself into thinking he's lesser when in reality, he's everything and more. The countdown begins, and quickly you're joined by your friends all gathering around to yell along with the ball drop and for the new year to begin, meanwhile you can't be bothered and have been unable to look away from Brett since the moment you laid eyes on him this morning in bed.

"Absolutely. Wanna' show off and be my kiss at midnight?" and Brett nods enthusiastically in response, taking the drink from your hand and downing it on one, very frat-like, go and bringing you back close to tell you how much he loves you between the both of you. He kisses you into the New Year and manages to do it for the rest of them, and they always feel just the same. Otherworldly.

JR Scheimpough

you celebrate New Year's at a party the two of you were invited to, dressing to the nine's and going out to dinner beforehand at some restaurant that was probably already booked out for weeks, if not months, and yet getting let in with ease from barely any effort from JR. Show off. After dinner, the two of you take a ride and head up to the party from the invitation, a top-floor party at some politician or CEO's place, a big band in full swing with an open bar. It's a black-tie event and you're glad you planned accordingly because you still both look more expensive than the rest do altogether. The two of you manage to sneak a few messy kisses in the elevator before you arrived on the floor, being able to fix his hair after nearly ruining it just before the doors open. If it's noticeable that he's flushed and his lips are puffy, no one comments on it.

after the usual schmoozing and small talk, the both of you sneak away to a balcony overlooking the D.C. spread, wind merciful and not being as cold as it could be in the night. JR comes back after refilling your drink to find you draped over the balcony and admiring the view before he joins you, commenting something coy in your ear and getting you to giggle before he hands you your drink and you both cheer, something murmured about great company and another year down, another to go as you clink your glasses together and drink in celebration.

After sipping away at the sparkling drink within the crystal flutes, he sets them both aside so he can take you in his arms and hold onto you while swaying to the music playing from indoors, Life Is but a Dream by The Harptones crooning low as you get swept up into JR's strong, steady arms and get spun out then brought back to his chest, your arms sidling around his neck as you play with the short hairs at the nape.

The song slows to something more melodious and lilting, Chopin if you had to guess, and listen to the countdown begin. He keeps you calm and grounded as the cheering picks up in volume, a large hand encompassing your hip locking you in the moment and not letting you get swept up away in the current of it all.

You get to soak up the moment with him, feel strong arms wrap around your waist as he makes you forget everyone else around you both, the countdown from the next room, and the fireworks nearly a city away firing off in the distance. All you can feel is him and his touch, the brush of his nose against your pulse as he hums the notes of songs that play softly against your skin, inhaling your perfumed scent as you sway chest to chest, wholly enveloped with each other rather than anyone else. You start the new year off right, with each other, and it's better than any other year you've had already.

Your gloved hand grasps his chin and lifts his head up to hover near yours, watching his eyes blink open and lid half-shut, peering down at you with a concoction of adoration and lust pooling in dark eyes. Counting down, you murmur the digits in the space between you both, telling him happy new year just before you kiss him and the new year begins, the old one still close by as you let him make you forget about it all.

He’s your New Year's kiss and every resolution you could make.

Alpha Beta Robotus

It's his first New Year beyond being locked up in the basement or left in tube-based solitary confinement. With that in mind and you making sure you take him home with you, not letting anyone have the mere idea of stopping you and your plan for the midnight countdown, you've set yourself on a mission to start the new year with him. And you intend on making it a good one.

"You've got mistletoe?" Alpha Beta stares quizzically up at the plant you've managed to hang high on your ceiling above the doorway to your kitchen between the hallway where you both now stand, "Isn't that a little excessive?"

"Only if you suddenly have lost interest and are letting me know that I've now got to find someone else to supply my kisses up to the New Year." You shoot back, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin he is tempted to kiss off, now that you've mentioned it, standing in your fuzzy socks upon the hardwood waiting for the sitcom-loving robotic bastard to just kiss you already.

While you're contemplating on whether to tug him in by the lapels or by his hair, Alpha Beta leans down and cups your cheek before kissing you tenderly, softly, with all the grace and poise of a noir heartthrob in one of those films you see off the classic movie channel. "No, I don't think I've lost any interest."

"That's sweet and all, but I'm afraid you'll just have to remind me, thoroughly." you murmur, eyes darting between his and then back down to his mouth, returning to glance up into glacier eyes just before he tugs you closer with a strong arm around your waist as he presses his lips to yours once more. He's picked up humming as he kisses you, another trait he's mirrored and adopted over time, and it feels better knowing that Alpha Beta's kissed you so many times he can't help but mirror it back to you.

By the time the countdown nears, he's got you spread and sidled on his lap, thighs encasing his as his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your pants and over your underwear, teasing you in strokes that match the tempo of the countdown and leave you keening against him impatiently. He tuts and chides at the show you're putting on and just as the countdown ends and the new year begins, you tug him into a kiss by his hair and he groans low, jaw clicking mechanically as his eyes glow a fraction before shutting.

Alpha Beta's hand finally begins to play with you properly and by the time you breach for air, you're dazed and beaming, already looking fucked out as you keep him close by his half-undone tie and grin.

"Happy New Year, AB, now fuck me until I forget it."

Gigi Thompson

She doesn't get a lot of solid downtime to spend with friends or family, so when she gets to enjoy herself and hang out with her loved ones, she goes all out. Gigi spent the holidays at home with you but convinced you to join along with her trip down to Georgia to see her family for New Year's, claiming that you're family to her the same as they are.

After a flight that took no time at all, spending it eating snacks and watching comedy specials, you manage to get to her parent's house in no time. The visit isn't as daunting as it could be, you having made the basic introductions and impressions at her family reunion last summer, already knowing her parents well enough to help out with cooking or setting up rather than just being left to stand around as a guest. You get the family treatment and damn if it doesn't make you a little teary-eyed.

"And you didn't think that they liked you," Gigi comments after prep is all set up and done, the two of you out on the back porch drinking tea and enjoying weather that's at least slightly warmer than D.C. "I can't help it, I'm always going to try and make a good impression, no matter how long I'll know them for."

Gigi laughs and gives you a pitying pat on the knee which you playfully swat away before she sips at her iced tea. "Can't be that bad, and besides, it's New Year's Day that's the eventful time. Eve just means drinking and talkin' shit before the rest pile on in tomorrow. That's when the real shit starts."

"Noted," you murmur into your glass before seeing the soft light of the house behind you both reflect on her face and how the night air makes her just glow. Her parents mention the countdown starting from inside but leave you both to your own devices. You take her hand in yours and squeeze gently, her matching it and then counting down between grasps of each other's palms as the countdown gets closer and closer to midnight.

Setting your drinks aside, you brush her hair back behind her ear and cup her cheek, careful not to muss her makeup if you can help it. "Love you, Gigi," you murmur, enjoying how her eyes don't hide the emotion in them, seeing her reciprocate in look before words. "Love you too, baby," she shoots back, lips in a blushy grin. You hear the final numbers said aloud and hear her parents celebrate from inside, maybe even a bottle popping, but you only focus on the woman before you as you pull her close and kiss her over and over again, starting a New Year tradition you'd like to continue to the rest of y'all's days. You do.

Reagan Ridley

With everything going on in her life, the last thing she needed was some unnecessary party that she'd have to get all dressed up for, fake some smiles, and give some unwilling hugs, all the while wanting to be curled up at home with you. And that's what she proposes and does. You have a lazy day, not even bothering to change out of pajamas until necessary, and even then you both change into clean sweats and old sweatshirts or tees. It's much needed, a lazy holiday, especially just being able to talk about everything and nothing while being sprawled across the couch or your bed and enjoying one another.

She's got movies selected and queued for the whole day, a mix of your collected favorites and some new ones the two of you had been meaning to watch but hadn't had the time to until today. Snack breaks come regularly, absolutely enjoying yourself while gorging down chips and popcorn and your favorite snacks while you've got Reagan's legs in your lap and toss bits of candy or popcorn into her mouth.

Her New Year's were always filled with family drama or facades, but this year, for the first time in a long time, she gets to enjoy it fully and not fake her smiles into something unreal. No, you earn and deserve every single crooked one thrown your way from her and you cherish each one received more than the last. There are naps and intermissions and moments where neither of you say a word for the entirety of the movie, only knowing each other are awake from slight movements or each other's hands grazing across each other's body. Other times the two of you are laughing so hard you're crying, over literally nothing at all and struggling for breath. The type of wheezing, hysteric, can-barely-hold-it-together laughter. It's a good sight on her.

The two of you are nearing the end of another movie when Reagan glances at the clock and sees that midnight is approaching fast. She scrambles up and into her kitchen, yelling from the other room that there's no need to pause the movie - which you do anyways - and hear her shuffle about and pull something from the fridge and pop a cork. She pours glasses and brings in two flutes of something bubbly and bright, either champagne or sparkling cider, and whatever graces your tongue has you grinning at her in your tattered sweater and fuzzy pants with the snoopy print.

Taking in the moment, you pull up onto the screen the ball drop and curl up against one another, infectious grins on both of your faces as you watch the countdown and share the experience. It's memorable and you'll never let go of the feeling you have when you're right beside her, hand in hers. It's electric.

Reagan kisses at your knuckle from your conjoined hands as her eyes are glued to the screen, counting along with the hosts for the ball drop meanwhile you're too enamored with her to look anywhere else, knowing you are exactly where you want to be now and want to be next New Years, and hopefully many more after that. She turns and spots your soft smile and blushes before the two of you knock your foreheads together, counting down the final 3, 2, 1, and kiss, languid and lazy and soft before breaching. You clink your glasses together, cozy back up against one another on the couch, and return to your movie. Pressing your lips to her temple, you wish her a happy new year, and as Reagan returns the favor against your collarbone, she wishes you the same.

Andre Lee

"I've never had a New Year's like this before!" You exclaim over the music, moving along with him beside you and letting him twirl you around and bring you back only to crash into him, stabilizing and getting lost in the high of the moment, and other things, as you stare at him beneath bright, glowing lights than drench Andre in rainbow hues.

"Well here's your first of many!" he shoots back, grin infectious as he giggles and squeezes at your side, stepping to the side to bring you closer to the music and standing behind you so you get the better view and he can look over your shoulder and head. "Enjoying yourself?" he says over the EDM that's blasting on the giant speakers up front, nearly as large as bikes if not cars. You nod enthusiastically, bopping along to the beat.

You take Andre's hands in yours, beaded bracelets and kandi clattering on each other's arms and wrists as you move along to the beat and feel yourself warm up even in the cold of December-turning-January, the heat of bodies warming the air up just enough to be perfect for the moment.

"That's good! Need another hit?" you shake your head no, thanking him anyway and he taps at your waist, signaling that he's going to unzip the bag at your hip, pulling out his THC pen that you decorated the other day with paint and little sticker-diamonds, making it look like Lisa Frank threw up on it.

Andre takes a hit, offers it once more to be sure you don't want any, they zips it back into your side bag before pecking the corner of your mouth affectionately, blowing the smoke away from you after holding it in for a moment. "Told you the bag was a good idea, can never hold anything in these tiny pockets." you murmur against his mouth, tasting faint flavor from the vape alongside the unwavering smell of weed, giggling against his lips.

Before he can respond, the DJ queues the countdown, and Andre jumps up and down excitedly beside you, eyes bright and glossy. "Oh I never asked," and before you can question, he kneels before you on the floor, taking your hand, and you know he's joking around but the sight still sends your heart into a frenzy, "sugar, do me the honor of being my midnight kiss?"

You laugh, pointedly mentioning that the countdown is going on as you both speak and he shakes his head, refusing to get up until you give him a formal answer. "Yes, Andre, I'll be your midnight kiss. Always." With a happy shout, he hops up to his feet and falters a moment before cupping both sides of your face between his palms and kissing you with enthusiasm, tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue as confetti rains down and the music plays, starting your New Year off just right.

Glenn Dolphman

He usually would spend New Year's eve with his daughter but she's with her mother this year. You decide to cheer him up and spend the holiday with him, appearing on his doorstep thirty minutes after ending a phone call with him after getting his update, bringing groceries from your home to his to make him food and make some new traditions you hope to share with him beyond just this year.

Glenn keeps telling you that you don't have to go to all the trouble for just him, and you continue to shrug it off in efforts to cook and care for him, shutting him up with doting, affectionate kisses in the meantime. You eventually give up and have him just sit at the kitchen counter watching as you move about, letting him help occasionally and tie the bow on the end of the apron, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks as you flush at his comment of how you look so cute in it.

"Goddamnit, just," you sigh, palms braced on the counter before you look up from the granite to him as he grins, pleased with himself, "just sit back and stop being sweet, you're killing me here." Trying to turn around, you go back to a mixing bowl of cookies and aim to reach some measuring spoons for the baking powder before you get swept up and placed atop the counter and closed in, Glenn's blunt nose knocking against yours.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" you chide, a hand on your thigh laying stagnant while the other immediately reaches for him, sprawled across his broad, solid shoulder as you feel his arms cage you in, safe and warm and secure with him surrounding you. "Testing my luck in the hopes of practicing my kiss for midnight."

You hum, brow raised as you peer up at him, looking from beneath lashes that blink doe-like. "Oh? Just like that?" Glenn nods and your hand smooths back to the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging teasingly and pushing your own luck in the same way he is, knowing that mixing bowl's gonna' be abandoned until way later in the day, if not until late this evening.

"Alright, sarge, go on ahead, make me feel real lucky," you murmur, cupping his jaw and snaking your fingers in his hair to tug him close just so he can pull you against him and kiss you breathless, nipping at your lip tenderly in the way you taught him as not to break it, letting your legs attempt to lock around his waist. They can't even touch let alone cross at the ankle. It's safe to say those cookies don't get made until way past the countdown, and Glenn's counting off times you gush around him rather than seconds until the New Year. He likes celebrating this way far better.

Myc Celium

he doesn’t really give a shit about the New Year, mainly uses it as an excuse to get fucked up and party, but lets you have your fun, staying around at home and allowing you to press kisses across his orb and under cap gills until he’s flushed and the hues start flickering as you make him forget about the New Year while getting fresh with you.

You dress up a little and manage to get a party hat onto Myc, not without some expletives thrown your way tethered together with demeaning pet names, flagella still around your waist as you lean up on tip-toes to secure it around his cap and make sure it's not tight. He helps you stand and lifts you in order to get you higher, all the while he's calling you and your entire bloodline waste of space bastards

The two of you go about the day pretty normally, cooped up at home since there's no work party this year nor any enticing ones thrown by friends or family. The two of you just lounge about or get small tasks done around the house, display parallel play, and just do other things apart from one another while being nearby. Conversations flow occasionally and other times you can hear him on call with Andre while playing a game as you reorganize something or finally settle down to stitch those patches onto your jacket.

By the time it nears eleven, the two of you settle down for a movie, curl up with one another, greasy takeout or fast food, and watch a movie, something kitschy but classic like When Harry Met Sally. Myc constantly chimes in about how the dynamic is pretty similar to you, but he thinks he's Harry with the charm and wit when he's high maintenance enough to be Sally. You humor him and litter sticky, glitter-gloss kisses to his orb or the underside of his cap across downy-soft gills.

You had set a reminder for when it would near five minutes away from midnight just so you could give Myc a classic new year's kiss with the countdown. Timing the movie out perfectly, in a scene of fated clandestine brilliance, the final scene comes on the moment you start counting down until midnight in your head, voicing along the lines that are too sweet to ignore from Billy Crystal.

"- when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"Aren't you a sap?" Myc comments just as you grasp at the edge of his cap and cup the underside of his orb tenderly, leaning him down to meet you halfway as you countdown and finally reach one, murmuring happy new year against him as your lips brush his surface.

"Happy New Year, Myc." you breathe, leaning back flushed a minute later after he got handsy, feeling him nudge against you and crowd you against the corner of the couch cushions. "Happy New Year, sweets."

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sin-sidejob · 2 years ago

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Give me jealous possessive JR/Andre/Gigi/Robotus or give me DEATH

Inside Job — Jealous

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, canon adherent material from a mature show, jealousy, possessiveness, semi public sex, exhibition, etc

Content: bossy, bitchy, deep-state employees. When they feel jealous or insecure about others giving them attention in a way they don't really care for. Some are more dramatic and others suaver, also some more bitchy.

A/N: my, my, bossy aren’t we? Headcanons below for JR Scheimpough, Andre Lee, Gigi Thompson, and Robotus Alpha Beta, enjoy!

Robotus Alpha Beta:

- hates feeling emotions and hates feeling jealous even more, looming around like your sulky, petty, violent shadow who glares at everyone who gives you a once-over

- AB hates humanity but he’s learning to tolerate it through first hand experience and exposure, via the coworkers, and love it through you. That doesn’t mean that he’s not eager to snap a spine like a Ticonderoga #2 pencil.

- there’s one moment in particular where you actually got the first glimpse of him getting jealous, a holiday party when someone gets in a little to close and starts complimenting the fabric of your jacket while rolling it between their fingers. Before you can even say anything, you feel a weight all too familiar coil around your waist and warmth press against your back, lips leaning down to press at your temple while eyes glowing a bit ominously are locked upon the person before you, some poor bastard from accounting.

- “forgive me for interrupting,” Alpha Beta drawls suave and calm, sizing the person up from behind you knowing you could handle everything yourself, but enjoying the moment of being able to show off what’s his and his alone, “I just wanted to rejoin my dearest’s side. Quite immaculate, aren’t they?” He doesn’t waste time listening to the shaky response from the person before you and rather seems content just staring at you, focusing on your presence and spotting you glance up at him with a coy smile hidden behind the lip of your drink.

- You don't even look at the person in front of you, not interested in the slightest meanwhile AB is staring them down with a small, earnest little smirk until they leave, lurking behind like your personal, protective shadow.

- "Can I grab you a refill?" He asks, noting your now empty drink as he moves out from behind you and before you, taking you in as you lean against the unoccupied side of the bar, grinning up at him with a proud yet amused smirk. "What's the look for?"

- "Oh nothing," you drawl, smiling all the while and unable to wipe it off your face as you stare up at him, noting his hand still on your waist, "just finding your possessive streak endearing."

- "Endearing, huh?" Alpha-beta mirrors, leaning in a bit closer and making your head tilt up a tad as he watches your eyes lower to peer up at him beneath thick lashes, "Seeing you act all protective and domineering, possessive, its cute." Alpha-beta arches a brow, taking in your expression idly. "Cute? I'm not cute - I'm a homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity."

- "The only thing you've been destroying lately is me," you talk over and ignore his guffaw, enjoying the petulant scoff, "and its former homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity, now you just kill for fun. That makes it a pastime."

- "It doesn't. You know damn well that's incorrect." He immediately buts back, eyes half-lidded but still unable to give up his need to be right, "Oh I do, it's just funnier to get you all pent up, you fuck harder that way."

- "I'm getting you another drink and the second you finish it, I'm taking you home and you won't leave the house until Monday on legs so shaky its as if you're impersonating a newborn deer."

- "You've never been hotter." You tease and kiss his cheek as he takes your glass while passing by you, grabbing you a refill of your drink of choice and standing with his back to you at the bar, smiling up at the mirror that allows him to see you staring right at him from behind.

- He has no worry about losing you to another, knowing you well enough by now, but any little what-if gets clouded over by how you look at him, even when you think he can't see. Alpha-Beta adds it to the files, under that folder of reminders of how much you love him when he needs to remind himself.

JR Scheimpough:

- he’s whiny and pathetic — and you love him for it, the way he’s just a little bit of a bitch — but there are some things he just won’t stand for, like seeing others try and take what’s his. Including you. That man’s backbone has never been more prominent than in those moments, and he uses all of those well crafted aspects of speech and persuasion he’s accumulated over the years, and will indeed pick apart whoever it is with words until they’re nothing but bones.

- JR has a tendency to show you off, have you at his side and brag and boast about you and your talents, accomplishments, personality, and more. He doesn’t wield you like a trophy or a prize but rather pays tribute to you and presents you forth in front of others to illustrate just how much of a catch you are, and just how taken he is with you.

- so when a former colleague eyes you up and starts to lean in, JR abandons his conversation suavely and swiftly in order to weave through people to reach you. He slinks nearby, melting into crowds and peoples shadows while watching as this person tries to get closer to you. The moment he does see red is when their hand tries to touch you and you brush it away, stepping back, but they try to force their hands onto your waist.

- “There you are darling,” he spots the flicker in your eyes, noting the relief in your body and the way you immediately lean into him when he comes up, “was just talking about you to some coworkers over there then realized I had lost you — oh!” JR turns and addresses the person before the both of you, doing that salesman grin and extending his hand. “Hello, I didn’t recognize you for a second, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” JR segways brilliantly, an arm wrapped around your waist low and comfortable and he feels you press at his side, seeking him out and he wishes he came around sooner or just hung around you the whole night.

- the two stare each other down as JR shakes their hand, smiling in a grin that seems earnest yet as fake as the pristine demeanors and character junior league women have with their pearls and prejudice. “Pleasure to see you — lovely partner you’ve got, how long have you two been together? You can wink if you want out.” They chide, nodding at you and mocking your very real relationship, and both JR’s grip on your waist tightens as does your grip on the back of his jacket, gut already at a low and continuing to plummet the longer you’re around the person before you.

- “For a while now, several years actually.” JR responds first, nodding down to you and catching your eye, getting a small yet truly earnest smile out of you, him matching before glowering at the person before you. “Our anniversaries in about a month or so.” He adds, patting your waist affectionately in a blatant look what you’ll never get to touch moment.

- “Oh congratulations then, best of luck you two.” They say before departing, disappearing into the crowd and you breathe an audible sigh of relief which JR feels responsible for, smoothing his hand over your rib cage and kissing at your temple, “M’sorry I wasn’t here, wish I could off that fucker.”

- “there’s always the assassination button.” You muse idly, letting him hold you close and smiling against his lips when he leans in to kiss you, eagerly meeting his touch and wrapping an arm around his neck to lace over his shoulder, lingering as he makes all the occupants in the room disappear, just him and you in a moment.

- “have I mentioned how much I love you and the way you think?” JR jokes, squeezing at your side and eliciting a little chirp he grins against, mouth ghosting over yours in a blatant, overly intimate display of affection. You shake your head, blinking at him beneath lashes and he watches as your grin forms, the hand at his back splaying across his shoulder while the other plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending a shudder rolling through his spine all the way down to the tailbone.

- “you may have said something, but I’m more than open to hearing more from you, if that’s quite alright Mr. Scheimpough?” Teasing, you slide the hand over his shoulder and to rest on his chest to tug at his tie, feeling him melt under your touch and his body turning to moldable clay, ready for the heat of your touch to break him or make him. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” JR breathes, hand in hand as he lets you lead him out the building towards home, or more likely, the back of the car.

Gigi Thompson:

- you think she’s gotten to where she is while letting insecurities bloom? No way. But she will cut a bitch should they touch what’s hers. Gigi doesn’t like feeling lesser than anyone, and she knows she isn’t, she’s incredible at her job and immensely talented, creative, cunning, and drop dead gorgeous. It’s why she holds you so highly in respect with how you’re all that and more. Which is why she’s the only one who gets to have you.

- The two of you had went out, finally managing a date night after a series of cancelled plans from work hijinks and shenanigans, finding yourselves at a club and hidden away in corners and booths all to your lonesome, Gigi working her magic to get you into all the hottest and most lucrative places. You had finished your glass and saw she was about to finish hers, offering to head to the bar to get refills and kissing her in a brief little see you later kiss, feeling her gloss transfer and glitter slide upon your mouth. She thinks it’s a look.

- upon making your way to the bar, you skirt through bodies of people and finally make it, waiting for the bartender to make their way through and finally reach you. You reorder Gigi’s drink and get some ice water for yourself, feeling a bit hot in the packed room. While waiting on Gigi’s drink, you sip away at your own and lean against the bar, throwing Gigi a wink from across the floor which she rolls her eyes at, smiling regardless and sending her own back.

- Gigi’s drink takes a while, one of the liquor bottles empty and another bartender needs to step away and pull out a bottle from the back. You wave a hand, smiling and assuring it’s fine, giving basic courtesy. Now sitting at the bar, you pull out your phone and respond to a few texts idly, looking up when someone talks to you, an “Excuse me?” makes you Loft your head up to find someone standing beside you, looking at you expectantly.

- “Hello?” You offer, brows furrowed and eyes squinted, confused and a bit irritated already. “Oh — you didn’t hear me then. I just asked what your name was.” You just stare, dead into this poor fuck’s soul and blink, sipping at your drink. Refusing to speak, you just glare and wait for them to leave you be so you can grab your girlfriends drink and return to her side. “Okay, so no to that then.” They trail off, sitting beside you and ignoring the blatant hints you keep dropping about wanting to be left the fuck alone.

- “So, what brings you here?” Comes their latest attempt at prodding you to speak more, their head tilted and mouth smiling, assuming you’ll give in and just tell them all about yourself. Fuck that. “Damn, what’s got you all bent out of shape? Here to nurse a breakup or some shit?” Your eyes lower to slits, glaring harshly ahead at the mirrored reflection of the bar towards the persons head, wishing you could make their skull explode with your mind.

- at another silence, they seem to get fed up, growing irritated and irate. “Oh c’mon, how stuck up are you?” Your eye twitches. “Can’t even respond—“ They’re cut off, and you feel a familiar weight lay across your shoulder and Gigi’s perfume meets your nose. You grin at the bastard across from you, knowing his fate has now been decided by a much more merciless and cutthroat person than yourself.

- “Can’t you even take a hint, with your pathetic nosy ass trying to play twenty questions with a taken person.” Gigi drawls, nails drumming against your shoulder and you peer up at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she pauses for the drama of it all — god you love this woman. “Move on, you waste of actual air and space, before I shove my fresh manicure down your throat and extricate that useless spine of yours and make it a backscratcher.”

- as expected, they leave, rapidly in fact and abandoning a wallet you loot and steal the ID from, passing it to Gigi who places a call to get the shithead disappeared. She sits and takes their seat at the bar, her purse and your things in hand as she places a hand on your thigh comfortingly, thumb rolling circles and shapes into you. “You okay?” She asks softly, meeting your eyes and you smile, patting her hand and squeezing it once, twice. “I’m fine, and besides, it was fun watching you. Look so hot doing that.”

- Gigi beams, laughing as she rests her elbow against the bar, cheek in her palm as she stares at you, her other hand on your thigh still and tracing shapes idly, just glad to be close to you and keep you close. “It’s better than when you let me grab drinks, you knocked some random fucker out last time.” She starts, smirking at your sudden frustration that she evokes. “Hey! You know that dim-dicked motherfucker deserved it — and how was I supposed to know his cheek couldn’t handle my fist through it.”

- you’re about to justify your actions when Gigi’s drink is finally poured before you both, slid into her awaiting hands and you lose track of thought once you see her take it in hand and the slow drag of her throat as she swallows a sip, the print of her lipstick against the glass. “Fuck — what was I saying.” You burst out, brows furrowed again in honest confusion and she laughs, squeezing your thigh, and you realize you honestly couldn’t care less.

Andre Lee:

- there’s two sides to the jealousy, proudly watching as you dismiss people and their attempts at sweeping you off your feet and pointing to him wherever he is with an earnest grin and wave, him waving back being fully assured that you’re his and his alone.

- there’s the additional side that’s possessive as hell and knows you’re a catch, and Andre’s insecure and doesn’t want to lose one of the best things that’ve ever happened to him. So the second he can, he pulls you aside to fuck you like a jackrabbit in the nearest room and make sure whichever person — or people — that were interested get to hear you cry out for him as he brings you to the brink of orgasm over and over, the only one getting to see you like that and taste so good on his lips.

- Andre’s in the middle of conversing with Gigi and Brett across the room and see some little shit try and slide up while you’re alone, watching as your smile grows awkward and eyes scan for him, then secure on the person before you as you scoff at something and close down your body language. Your back straightens and eyes dim to leers as you stare down the person before you, and Andre’s already biting his lip while Brett catches he’s not paying attention, turning his head to his line of sight and clueing in Gigi, who both roll her eyes and smiles while taking a sip of her cosmo.

- “Go on and save them before they break that bitches neck,” Gigi suggests, smiling and promoting Brett to nod along, smiling too. Andre just shakes his head a fraction, a small grin of his own on as he finishes the end of his drink, tossing out the cup before nodding his head in your general direction.

- “But where’s the fun in that — just wait a sec’ then they’ll ditch ��em. That’s when I come in.” Andre muses, already excited and thrumming for what’s to happen next, the routine so constant he’s nearly blessed with a Pavlovian response in how he knows what’s to occur soon. He can practically taste you on his lips anyhow, and he’s jittery, like a wound up toy aching to be let go to putter around.

- and they all watch as, sure enough, you send the poor bastard with their tail tucked between their legs and scurrying away, ego and pride demolished in your presence as you brandish a evil little smirk and swipe your lips across the edge of your glass and finish it. Andre rolls his sleeves with an equally evil little giggle before he approaches, watching as you lick up a stray drop from your beverage away as it lingered at the bottom of your lip, turning to him with a pouty mouth and lidded, heady eyes.

- “and there you are.” You marvel, adjusting so he can sit at the bar stool beside you and lean in close, placing a brief, take peck at your lips that you cast aside in efforts to bite at his mouth, letting him taste your drink off your tongue. “Julep?”

- “close, was a mojito.” You chime, nose nudging his in a disgustingly cute manner before you lean back, lips glossed now in his spit. He loves how it looks on you. “Nice try though.” You murmur, sparing him a glance as you fish out bills from your wallet and pay your shared tab, smacking his hand away when he tries to pay — you nearly growl and he tries so hard not to laugh.

- as you paid, Andre turns and locks eyes with the fucker that tried to talk you up and flips him off with a cheery, eat shit smile before you can turn around. He feigns nonchalance but you see through it anyhow, shoving your receipt in the bag and taking his hand before walking out to the exit hall and quickly drag him into the bathrooms — slinking in and dragging him by his tie as you step backwards so he presses you against the sink.

- Andre helps you up, mouthing at your jaw as you paw and nudge at his belt, managing to unbuckle it as his slide your own bottoms down and underwear too, teasing you with eager hands as you moan out, head angled and resting against the mirror. He works quickly, shucking his pants down to his mid thighs where they bunch so he can fuck his fist then grind against you, sending your belly clenching and hips swiveling, eager for friction.

- and if that poor bastard happened to try and use the restroom, peek in just a fraction, they’d see Andre jackhammering into you and his bright, devilish smirk meet their eyes in the mirror reflection. His form covered the expanse of yours, keeping you covered but leaving your face exposed, eyes wide shut as you cry his name and praise him and his skill over and over, turning into a puddle from his ministrations and sending the bastard running — Andre considers it a win.

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