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chleem · 1 month ago

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Flashing Lights #5

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter4 | index | chapter6

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mid-April 2024

What’s so fun about singing in a desert?

The concept of Coachella always seemed ridiculous to you, yet here you were, walking to see the last performance of the day. Of course, hand in hand with Drew.

The whole day the two of you were 'inseparable', looking at different shows. For most of the time, he’s kept an arm around you, whispering useless stuff in your ear whenever someone films the two of you.

Ever since stepping out of the car this morning, you’ve attracted a few stares, photographers hoping to take pictures of you and Drew. After all, this was your first time attending Coachella, and you did dress accordingly to theme.

The stylist definitely did it on purpose, making you and Drew match. You wore a denim skirt, a cute lace top, cowboy boots, and accessories from brands you’re an ambassador for. Drew wore a denim jacket, black pants, white shirt, with accessories. Oddly similar to yours.

Good thing your sunglasses cover your line of sight from others, especially Drew. You didn’t want him to know that you’ve been glancing at his body since the you both stepped out from the car. But really, he must know that he's attractive, right?

The last time you saw him was at the yacht, and things…surprisingly ended well. You got drunk, which resulted in a relaxed you that was willing to pose lovingly with Drew. After that, the two of you headed back home in seperate flights.

Once you step into the VIP section, you let go of his hand. You feel him staring at the side of your face, but you just stare at the dimly-lighted stage. This whole day he’s been the one initiating intimacy, whereas you were just focused on getting as much free beer as you can (they were passing drinks out). And now, at this last show, you had enough of him.

You down the last of your beer, handing your empty cup to a random bodyguard standing watch. He takes it with a confused face, to which you ignore. Gosh, the beer here was horrible.

Drew attempts to hold your hand again, and you just cross your arms. “Why not?” He whispers in your ear, standing closely to you.

“Because I don’t want to anymore,” you simply say, staring at the stage. When was this show going to start? You couldn’t be more eager to go home, and drink some beer that’s actually good.

“But you held my hand for the whole day.”

“Yes, and I hated every second of it,” you turn over to him while saying this, looking right into his eyes. Even in the night his eyes are bright. How fucking annoying.

“Well, so did I. But you don’t see me bitching, do you?”

“Because you know you have a career to save. I don’t-“

“Don’t remind me about what I’m doing. I know what I’m doing, but I’m not sure you do.”

“I’m right here, aren’t I?” You say, tapping his chest in an annoying way to show you’re in front of him. He looks down at you, poking his tongue against his cheek.

“Stop touching me,” he says in a low voice, his eyes still staring into yours.

“What are you going to do about it?” You taunt, and you push his shoulder as hard as you can, and he doesn’t flinch at all. You do it to the other side as well, gaining the same reaction from him. Is he a stone?

You flick his forehead. Same reaction, his eyes staring irritatedly into yours.

You reach to pinch his cheeks, but he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him. He captures you into a forced hug, your head deep between his chest. You feel one arm around your waist, the other holding your wrist tight to him. What?

All you smell is Drew, and all you see is Drew (’s chest).

“Hug me back and smile,” you hear him say, his fingers tapping against your waist.

“Fuck no,” you murmur against his chest.

“Everyone’s watching,” he says.

Fucking hell.

You shake his hand away from your wrist, and you hug him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his upper body down a bit. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you glance at the back. Okay. The front row all had their phones out and were shamelessly taking photos of you two. Gosh, can’t people mind their own fucking business?

You stay like that hugging for ten seconds or so, until Drew’s hand slips a bit lower to the curve of your ass; you push him away. It wasn’t a hard push; but a push nevertheless. “Getting too comfortable,” you say, but giving him a smile since all the cameras were pointed this way.

“Hand slipped,” is all he says, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You furrow your eyebrows. “That hug was enough.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird if we stopped touching each other?” He says, his face close to yours, and his arm hangs comfortably around you.

His breath hits your face, which you just reply, “your breath stinks.”

He purposely blows another breath in your face, and you flinch away in disgust. “I would slap you if it weren’t for all these cameras.”

You hear him laugh, and you just roll your eyes. You lean into him, holding his hand that’s over your shoulder. If you’ve got to play the part, might as well play it right. “When’s this show going to fucking start?”

“Why? You like Tyler the creator?”

“Who’s that?” Drew looks at you with widen eyes, the corner of his lips curled up. “What? Is he famous? Am I suppose to know who he is?”

“Yeah, we’re about to watch his show,” he giggles at you while talking, his shoulders shaking. You furrow your eyebrows at him, your grip on his hand tightening. You do not like his laugh. His smile. His smirk. The way his lips curl up. You do not like it. Especially when he’s laughing about you, or at you.

Somehow, his smile grows when he sees your confused and hateful expression.

“Stop laughing!” You frustratingly say, attempting to push him away. But he holds onto you tighter, pulling you closer to him.

“Do you live under a rock?” He says, a teasing smile on his face. “Or are you too consumed with your own fame you forget others?”

“You wish you had this problem,” you reply, hoping that would get the smile off his face.

But it doesn’t. In fact, he ignores your comment. “Frank Ocean."

“Who?”

“Kali Uchis.”

“Stop.”

“Richard Jill.”

“I know him,” you lie, widening your eyes and nodding your head to act like you knew a bunch about this person.

“Can you introduce me to him?”

“Well, he’s really busy.”

“With what?”

“Producing music, going on tours-“

He bursts into laughter, throwing his head back.

What’s so funny now?

“The fuck?” You curse, hitting his chest to get him to stop laughing. No one likes to be laughed at, and right now, he’s making you feel horrible.

He laughs, and when his blue eyes stare into yours, there’s tears in them. You want to punch him so bad right now. “I fucking made him up, y/n.”

You push him away, and he actually stumbles a bit, still chuckling at you. Will he stop laughing already? People are staring, and that makes you even more embarrassed. The area is noisy, but you feel as if someone can overhear your dumb attempt to look smart.

“You’re a fucking jackass,” you say a bit louder, which the crowd probably heard.

“And you’re a fucking idiot,” he replies, his laughter dying but the smile still rests around his face.

You want to leave. You don’t want to stay here anymore, you want a smoke. You want some beer that's actually drinkable. You turn towards the exit, ready to leave, but Drew pulls you back. He keeps one hand on your wrist as he starts to take off his jacket.

“Get your hand off me,” you say, while your eyes went down to his body. Woah, was he wearing such a tight shirt this entire time?

“Wear this. It’ll be great for the cameras.”

“Fuck no,” you say quickly. “You laugh at me, and now you want me to wear your shit?”

“It was a joke,” he says, taking the other sleeve off but not before switching hands to hold your wrist. Is he afraid you were gonna walk away while he’s taking off his jacket? “C’mon, just put this on.”

You stare at the jacket. Then you look back at him. No smile, no laughter, no curl at the corner of his lips. “Cunt,” you whisper to him, taking the jacket from him. You put it on, the sleeves sagging and the shoulders feel heavy, way too big.

Smells like Drew. Again.

“Right. I’m the cunt,” he says in a defeated tone. “But at least I know who exists and who doesn’t.”

You raise a hand to slap him, but he catches it and slips it into the pocket of his pants. “People watching,” he reminds you again, leaning closely to your ear.

“Greater reason for me to slap you,” you reply, before pinching him real hard with the hand in his pocket. He groans, quickly taking your hand out and holding it. You resist, but he holds tightly onto it.

Suddenly, the screen starts, and it’s a video of a man in a van explaining stuff.

“That’s Tyler the creator,” Drew tells you, pointing to the screen.

“I fucking know that, you dick,” you reply, eyes glued to the screen.

"Do you?" He playfully whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

But then, calls for Drew are heard, causing the two of you to turn to the source. A group of friends at the front row, waving at Drew. You’ve never seen any of these people, but Drew seem to, because he walks over to them, and holding his hand, you’re forced to walk over as well. “What are you guys doing here?” He happily shouts, trying to be louder than the music.

A short girl with messy curls smiles at Drew, “I should be asking you that! Why did you cancel on us if you were coming here as well?”

A man beside her says, “can’t you see? He’s on a date.”

The group looks at you, first eyeing your jacket, then at you and Drew holding hands. Then they stare directly into your face. “Shit, so this is real?” The short girl asks, a mocking smile on her face.

You furrow your eyebrows at her. Weird.

“Yeah, um, Y/n, these are my friends,” Drew says, and he points at each of them. Firstly, he points at the short girl. “This is Odessa. This is Jay, this is-“

He tells you each of their names, but you get lost pretty quick, even though this was only a group of six people. They kept looking at you in awe (duh, you're an A-list actress) with warm smiles on their faces. Well, not all of them. The short girl, who’s name is Odessa, keeps her eyes on Drew the whole time, her hand going to touch Drew’s arm, even suggesting to watch the show together.

Of course Drew says yes, telling security to let his friends through. You stay quiet; they were his friends, not yours. And you didn’t want them to get a piece of your mind, because who knows what you’ll say once opened your mouth.

Drew seems to know what you’re thinking, because he whispers in your ear, “You’re not going to ask them to leave, are you?”

“I’m not that bitchy,” you shrug, eyes on the stage as Tyler the Creator is still in his cabin, on the big screen. “But you said my thoughts.”

“Aren’t you the nicest,” you hear the sarcasm in his voice, and he drops your hand, now wrapping his arm around your waist, under the jacket. His thumb rubs in circles on the bare skin, and you hate how it causes your goosebumps to rise. “Besides, my friends won’t judge you.”

“Judge me?” You turn to him, and when you do, you release how close he was. You glance at his lips, but quickly look back into his eyes, hoping he didn’t catch that. “What is there to judge about me?”

“You reek of alcohol,” Drew says, his tone teasing.

“Everyone stinks here.”

“But you stink everywhere,” Drew shrugs, turning his focus back on screen.

Then, Tyler the creator jumps out the screen, which shocks you. Your eyes widen, mouth open. The crowd goes crazy once the music starts. The music is good, and you bop your head lightly to it. Crazy how you’ve never heard of him or his music before.

But you weren’t able to fully enjoy the show.

Drew and his friends are talking, at a slightly loud volume. So, even if you didn’t want to, you can hear their conversations. His friends mostly asking how he’s doing, catching up about big events in each others’ lives, etc.

You wanted them to shut the fuck up and silently watch the show.

You looked over at Drew, trying to show him your discomfort, but all you see is sincerity on Drew. A smile on his lips, nodding while listening, and just…just talking about whatever with his friends. He makes funny faces, impressions, and jokes that makes them laugh.

His friends seem to enjoy his company as well, listening to him talk and adding teasing comments in-between. Their bond seems deep, and sincere.

You don’t have any friends; so you didn’t know how this felt like. To have someone to talk to, talk about whatever and talk whenever.

You turn back to the stage, deciding to leave Drew and his friends alone. Your grip on his hand tightens though, but you’re sure he doesn’t realize it, too into the conversation between his friends.

——

Early May 2024

The PR team obviously thought a relationship would solve you and Drew’s negative images, but it wasn’t enough.

You were seen at a yacht, in Miami, right after the F1 grand prix. You weren’t careful enough, which lead to you being photographed with another A-list actor, touching, laughing, feeding each other food. It looked real couple-y.

Not only that, but you were photographed sharing bottles of wine together. From anyone’s point of view, it was a date.

Fans attacked all your social media platforms, urging you to explain yourself.

Well, your company addressed it. Saying that it was a casual hangout between friends and how the wine was just to 'pair along with the food'.

While you were out drinking with another guy, Drew was at the Met Gala. And it happened to be the day after the photos were leaked. Poor Drew. But he handled it exceptionally well, steering away questions about the relationship.

One thing for certain now, Drew was committed to this relationship, unlike you. You, who cooperates entirely based on your mood, and go around creating as much trouble as you possibly could.

Maybe the public was right. Right for years. You are still just an immature kid, who still has white powder up her nose.

-------------------------------

word count: 2.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: thx for reading this chapter! things are getting...interesting 🙃 and youll realise that i didnt write out the date on the yacht...(cause i got lazy) bc it would just be yn and drew bickering. and every chapter will be like this, months/weeks apart. anyways, thx for reading! and thx for liking not a big deal (did not expect it to blow up) and due to popular demand, part 3 is in the works!

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #fiction #angst #drew starkey x you #actor #actress #series #fake dating #enemies to lovers #flashing lights #chapter 5

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oliullah04 · 9 days ago

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#active sunglasses #ambassador sunglasses

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cherryredlove · 4 months ago

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☆ his grand prix prize ☆

Modern! F1 Driver! Aemond Targaryen x Model! Reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You're the hottest gal on the runway, the face of Highgarden Haute Couture. When your brand invites you to the Oldtown Grand Prix, how can you say no? And how can you deny the handsome driver that steals your heart on the track?

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, aemond is a simp, oral, worship sex, mirror sex, p in v, pearl necklace, creampie, reader is a baddie and she knows it, aemond's got both eyes

i'm aware the model world isn't as glam as it seems but for fanfic's sake let's pretend xoxo

part two here

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Here's your coffee, Miss Y/N." Your personal assisant Dyana scampers over to give you your to-go coffee order, an oat milk cappuccino, which you gratefully accept.

You're standing on the sunlit grid of the Oldtown International Circuit, the excitement of the Grand Prix hanging in the air.

For you, a supermodel who has graced the covers of every major fashion magazine, the scene is exhilarating. This isn’t your usual glamorous world of the runway, but an invitation from the brand you model for brought you here. And standing in the middle of it all, with the air of a man who owns the entire circuit, is Aemond.

Your invite is no ordinary gesture; you're the face of Highgarden Haute Couture, and your presence at the latest F1 Grand Prix is meant to be a statement. As you weave through the paddock, you notice Aemond’s unmistakable figure. He stands by the Red Bolton racing team’s pit, looking every bit the modern racer in his red-and-black racing suit.

You’ve seen photos of him before—the handsome Aemond Targaryen, the rising star in the F1 racing world. Pictures don’t quite capture the striking presence he has in person, though, with his silver-blond hair and piercing eyes.

You catch his eye just as you're adjusting your oversized designer sunglasses, a smirk playing on your lips. His gaze is unwavering, even from a distance. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—a challenge.

You approach him with confidence that matches his own, feeling the heat of the midday sun and the collective gaze of the crowd.

“Impressive,” he drawls, his voice a low rumble. “I wasn’t expecting to see the Highgarden Haute Couture ambassador gracing the pits of an F1 race. Not quite the runway, is it?”

“Not quite,” you reply, matching his sarcastic tone. “But speed has its own allure, don’t you think? Not everything has to be about strutting down a runway to be thrilling.”

His smile widens, revealing a flash of amusement. “Indeed. And what brings you specifically to Oldtown? Here to witness some real action or to simply grace us with your divine presence?”

You tilt your head slightly, enjoying the banter. “Maybe I just wanted to see if the legend of Aemond Targaryen matched the reality. You’ve got quite the reputation.”

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks, leaning his gorgeous body casually against the sleek body of his Red Bolton car, as if he has all the time in the world.

“I’d say reality is exceeding expectations,” you admit, pushing your sunglasses down your nose for effect, allowing your eyes to linger on him for a beat longer than necessary.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your answer. “Likewise. I’ve heard of your successes. Modelling must be quite the race in its own way. But here, it’s all about strategy and speed.”

“Then let’s see if your strategy is as good as they say,” you challenge, feeling a rush of excitement. “After all, I didn’t come all this way just for the scenery.”

Just as you're about to continue your back and forth, a team member approaches Aemond, indicating that the race is about to start. He nods, acknowledging the interruption, then turns his attention back to you.

“Stay close,” he suggests, his voice carrying a promise of more to come. “After the race, I’ll show you why this world is as exciting as any catwalk.” You nod, acting with an unimpressed air as you flip your hair and walk away.

You watch the race from the VIP area, a glass of prosecco in hand. Aemond's Red Bolton car shoots down the track, weaving through the pack with precision and grace. The sheer speed and skill he displays are breathtaking, as if he's dancing on the edge of control. Each turn and straightaway is a testament to his expertise, and you can't help but admire his talent.

As the laps progress, you feel yourself drawn into the excitement of the race. Aemond is relentless, pushing his car to the limit as he battles for the lead despite starting on pole. The crowd roars with approval, and you find yourself cheering along with them, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment.

Finally, after a heart-pounding final lap, Aemond crosses the finish line in first place. The stadium erupts in applause and cheers, and you can’t help but join in. His victory is well-deserved, and you feel a surge of admiration for the man who conquered both the track and your attention.

As the celebrations commence after the podium, you find yourself drawn back to the pits, where Aemond is basking in the glory of his win. He looks like a king who’s just claimed his throne, his eyes bright with triumph. He spots you amid the crowd and makes his way over, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Well?” he asks, that familiar teasing tone back in his voice. “Was that thrilling enough for you?”

“Impressive performance,” you reply, genuinely impressed. “I can see why they call you the best.”

He chuckles, a deep, genuine sound. “Flattery will get you everywhere, especially when it’s coming from someone like you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there's an undeniable chemistry between you—a spark that promises more than just banter. As the sun begins to set over the Oldtown Circuit, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you find yourself looking forward to a night with your champion.

“Care for a victory drink?” he proposes. “The bars are a no-go, but my hotel has excellent room service.”

“I’d like that,” you agree, linking your arm with Aemond, who visibly preens at having some real arm candy by his side.

Aemond's hotel room at the centre of Oldtown is lavish and luxurious, exactly what you're used to. You send Dyana a quick text to let her know you won't be needing dinner at your own hotel tonight. And that you might be bringing a date to the brand event tomorrow.

Aemond orders you a selection of wines to choose from to his room, and you sit on the balcony sipping a Dornish red as Aemond lights you a cigarette.

You love being watched. It's why you're a model. You love the camera, love the fans, and the admiration. You love your job, and right now, you love Aemond's eyes on you. The way his eyes follow your perfectly painted lips as you take a delicate sip. The way his eyes linger on your chest, your coiffed hair, manicured nails. You smile into the glass, loving the effect you have on such a gorgeous man.

The sun has truly set by the time the bottle has been finished, and you find yourself sat on a chaise longue as Aemond kisses your hand.

"You're beautiful, you know?" He murmurs. You giggle chastely, allowing him to kiss the corner of your mouth. "And you're smart, so lovely." His lips seem to beg for more.

You indulge him, kissing him and letting his hands wander to your hips, pulling you closer. His grip becomes firmer as your hands wrap around his shoulders.

"Let me have you, princess." He whispers against your lips. You pretend to think, as he huffs against your neck. You stand up, holding your hand out and walking him like a dog to the massive plush bed.

Aemond sinks to his knees as you lie back from the edge. His hands revently take off your red dress, smoothing over your curves and soft skin. He shakily exhales, massaging your tits, and you guide his head down to meet your perfect pussy.

Aemond's eyes roll back at your sweetness, tongue lapping against your folds. You moan lightly, hands digging into his scalp as you scratch him with your nails.

Aemond's mouth is masterful. He glides over your spread labia, tonguing at your soaked hole, suckling your aching clit. You throw your head back, turning your gaze to the side and notice the huge mirror that covers one wall. You pussy gushes with excitement at your idea, but you are distracted by Aemond's pointed tongue flicking your nub, his fingers curling inside your heat to draw a long, languid orgasm from your hips.

Breathlessly, you sit up, shoving his pants down as he kneels above you on the bed. Your lips part around his cock, your hands jerking the shaft and massaging his balls. Aemond makes the most lascivious noises, your tongue swirling against his tip in a pattern that mimics an infinity symbol.

Aemond caresses your glossy hair, hips bucking into your face as he draws pleasure from your tight throat. You suck in your cheeks, swallowing hard and he cums, pulling out to spray ropes of white hot cum against your collar and chest. You gasp, pussy ablaze.

Aemond pants, kissing you hotly as you let his cum dry on your plush skin, a welcome decoration. He follows your eyeline to the mirror, smirking as he understands your desire. His big hands hoist you you until your bent over with your perfect ass in the air, facing the mirror.

You nearly cum at the sight that greets you, hair mussed up, lashes dewey, covered in Aemond's cum, and the man himself behind you, ready to fuck you senseless in doggy.

His nudges his cockhead through your lips, sheathing himself fully. You moan at the sight of his abs flexing, appreciating the Greek God of a man as he fucks you hard and fast with rapid snaps of his hips.

He is gorgeous, your true match, and Aemond reaches to rub your clit with his deft fingers, and you mewl at the feeling of another breathtaking orgasm at Aemond's hands.

His cock fills you up to completion, and you relish at how his eyes are glued to your tits, your open mouth, your eyes that are lost in ecstasy. He lets out a strangled moan, desperately rubbing your clit as he cums deep inside you, gasping at how your pussy flutters around him as you cum.

You both lie there, eyes locked in the mirror as Aemond strokes your back and hair softly, as if you're made of glass. You smile at him, rolling onto your side to steal a kiss from the man that stole the Grand Prix title and your heart.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: thought I'd combine my love for f1 with ultimate babe aemond, hope yall enjoy! spent 4ever trying to make a westeros pun on an f1 racing team, red bolton was my best lol. love me a baddie reader and simp aemond, check out my masterlist for more modern aus and smut xoxoxo

#modern house of the dragon #modern aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #modern aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #modern aemond targaryen x reader smut #f1 au #aemond f1 au

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crazymadpassionatelove · 6 months ago

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Cool Fiancè

Notes: 18+ sex mentioned

Special shout-out to @ab4eva and her fabulous editing skills! This is the second installment in my cool girl saga. Read Part 1 here

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Five Things to know about Austin Butler’s New Fiance ::

Although his reps couldn't be reached for comment, sources close to the Elvis actor confirm he has popped the question to his mysterious lady love!

Butler and the stunning brunette were recently spotted at the iconic Les Puces market in Paris last Friday, and she seemed to be sporting a new accessory. Austin was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white v neck tee, and black moto boots. She was clad in a classic trench coat and vintage Dior kitten heels as she kept her head down and let the winner lead the way. His face was mostly obscured by aviator sunglasses, but his smile was very apparent according to onlookers. “Austin was holding her hand and pointing out jewelry at different booths. They were very friendly with local vendors and Austin ended up buying her a gold charm bracelet. He told the dealer the bracelet was a momento to celebrate their recent engagement,” a fellow American tourist overheard. The twosome reportedly spent the prior week soaking in the city of lights and meeting with the YSL fashion house. Austin was recently tapped as the brand's newest ambassador.

Since returning stateside paparazzi pics have finally surfaced and revealed a closer look at that ring. Montana based indie jeweler Jada Kaye has been revealed as the designer of that serious sparkler. The 5 carat, flawless emerald-cut emerald is set in solid gold and flanked by two white diamonds on either side. Inside sources told Elle Magazine that Kaye and Butler worked closely together to craft the one of a kind creation. There's even rumored to be an inscription on the inside that's significant to the couple and the ring is estimated to cost a cool $100,000. Austin's fiancè was photographed heading into a ballet studio yesterday wearing pink tights, a pink leotard, Ugg boots, and of course that ring. Her curly dark brown hair was slicked back into a bun and she seemed to be sporting a pair of the actor's sunglasses.

Here's everything you need to know about the future Mrs. Austin Butler;

She's from New England —

A, as she's known, was born in Rhode Island. She grew up splitting her time between Rhode Island and Kennebunkport, Maine. Her teenage years were spent working the local Del’s lemonade truck, former neighbors say. She attended the Rhode Island School of Design after high school but never graduated.

She and Austin met via her former job –

Whilst working at the New York location of Vibrant Vintage, A, served as the fashion archives buyer. She also happened to be on hand when Butler visited the store. Supposedly she helped him find the perfect pair of leather boots, and the rest is history. Things clearly moved quickly between the two lovebirds, with A relocating to Los Angeles not long after. According to Vibrant Vintage, she is no longer employed there but “remains a close friend and consultant,” says their PR team.

She's a hit with his friends –

She organized a birthday party for her man’s co-star and close friend, Callum Turner. Turner posted an Instagram story showing off a fairly large garden party celebration and a “homemade blueberry glaze cake” according to the post. “Huge thanks to Austin's lovely lady xx” accompanied the video footage. She and Austin were also seen dining with his other Masters of the Air co-star, Nate Mann, while in Paris recently.

They've (supposedly ) got matching ink –

An unnamed employee at the iconic Bang Bang tattoo in NYC has said that Austin and A made a late night visit to the tattoo studio. Where exactly are the said-to-be matching minimalistic tattoos? Reportedly, Austin was inked on his left hip and A on her inner left thigh.

Old fashioned love letters are her thing -

Notably social media shy, Austin and A have taken up the lost art of handwritten love notes. Sources exclusively say that custom monogrammed stationery was crafted for the duo whilst Austin was filming in England. The hand pressed, vintage inspired paper bears a unique coat of arms style symbol with intertwining letter A’s and two sparrows (Fun fact! Sparrows mate for life and always find their way back, no matter how far they fly). While separated, the couple often writes letters to one another, even having the letters sent via jet instead of mail for privacy reasons!

_______

Suddenly one morning articles begin to pour in about your engagement. It catches you off guard, that ring akin to a skating rink has been sitting pretty on your hand for a bit now. The engagement had happened so naturally as everything with the two of you seems to. In the early morning hours while his swollen, rock hard member thrusts into you repeatedly you begin to awaken. On your side, his teeth clamp down on your shoulder as his finger twirls round the curls at the nape of your neck.

His gasps and needy groans tickle your ear. “Couldn't help myself..”, he shudders as you suddenly clamp down around him, barely able to register it all. You stretch and arch, allowing him the room and space to take what he needs. It is his after all. His teeth and pillowy soft lips mark your shoulder blades and when you reach down to where the two of you are joined, you feel his very full balls. Your newly manicured fingers tease and tug the best you can, scrunched up like some sort of acrobat. “Ugh, ugh…baby… you're gonna make me -”. Then he does. Hot, viscous, cream floods you and makes you sigh in a contented whimper. “Thanks darlin’,” he pets your head and you close your eyes dreamily. That is until you hear him rustling around in the bedside table next to him.

You cock open an eye, figuring he's looking for smokes or even the book he had been reading late last night. Your hands are stretched above your head, gripping a pillow. The perfect position for him to suddenly slip the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you've ever seen onto your finger. When your eyes shoot open and you jump up, he's lying there grinning that smile that makes you weak at the knees. “Will you be my wife?” As if your answer would be anything but yes, please Daddy. You smother him in kisses, straddling him and giggling. It's the perfect moment, the perfect proposal. You were never one to want a fireworks display or heaven forbid, those ridiculous and wasteful walls of flowers other celebrities seem to have for every occasion. This private, simple moment is everything you could ask for.

You feel the sudden urge to take him in your mouth despite him just finishing. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you take him down your throat. Choking and gagging, you really give it your all. Fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his lip curls and his eyes slam shut. Talking is always your thing. This time, though, he's sputtering and rasping words of utter devotion and love. Promises to worship your body until the day he dies. My perfect, perfect wife. Soon you can't be sure if the tears are from his cock down your throat, or his beautiful words. Maybe both. Those pretty boy fingers twist and tug on your nipples and then crawl lower and flick that special spot. The only fireworks you enjoy happen, twice for you actually. He's so dutiful and charming, when you're done pulling yourself back together and fixing your hair, he's handing you a surprise glass of champagne. What a way to mark the occasion.

You decline a proper press announcement. Phone and FaceTime calls follow to those who truly matter to you both - your families, both absolutely thrilled. Then Baz, Cal, The Presley's, everyone can't stop gushing about how perfect you are for each other. That ring, oh how sweet he designed it himself. You come up with a family-appropriate story to describe the proposal and the evening that followed, conveniently leaving out the mind-blowing sex the two of you have all over the house and in the hot tub. Why do things feel so different now that you're engaged? You can't get over the way the light hits the ring as you stroke him and something in that dirty girl heart of yours feels like it's really, truly, official when you have to clean his cum off the stone.

He's due back to set for some reshoots a few days later and of course you follow. Bringing throw pillows from your living room to spruce up his trailer and plotting out how to plan the most private, under the radar wedding possible while you lounge in his trailer in a cute little dress you sew yourself from vintage scarves bought in London. Your newest hobby, that and the ballet classes. He yammers on and on about wanting to sneak in and see you dance. You're sure it's just the tights and leotards spurring his interest though, let's be real. The paparazzi are as relentless as ever, but head down with big sunglasses helps keep the chaos at bay.

You visit Disney World, a whole crew, the two of you, your families, friends with their little ones. Thankfully Disney security is familiar with celebrity guests and you can actually let your guard down for once. Which is good, because seeing Austin chase after your friend's newly toddling little ones makes your stomach flip flop with joy. You make a mental note to expedite the wedding plans, he makes it known that he's chomping at the bit to be a father. When you visit Main Street, you decide a pair of new Mickey ears are in order. Gold stitching with Mrs. Butler is what you finally decide on after Austin's encouragement, his hand on your lower back as you walk miles and miles around the park with hands full of churros and cotton candy. Sure, some overzealous fans snap cell phone pics of you with your ears and immediately post them to those ridiculous Austin fan blogs who've now decided you are the evil villain in his story. You won't allow them to burst your Disney bubble though. Your fairytale is just beginning after all.

#ashley finally writes #Cool Girl #Cool Fiance #austin butler #austin x reader #austin butler au #austin butler imagine #elvis presley #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis x reader #lana del ray aesthetic #cool girl #Priscilla #elvis x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #elvis smut

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yours-stevie · 10 months ago

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My boy 😍

#aron piper #tifanny & co #ambassador #new #campaign #promotional #photoshoot #2024 #handsome #guy #jewellery #sunglasses #style #spanish #actor

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odxrilove · 1 year ago

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☆ STRAY KIDS AND HOW YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS REVEALED

pairing: stray kids x fem!reader

genre: fluff, idol!au, established relationships, 1.5k

a/n: request by anon! song rec - day 1 by red velvet.

back to masterlist! seventeen version here!

☆ BANGCHAN

you and chan had been together for a couple of years now and to say you were both getting impatient at your agencies’ reluctance to reveal your relationship was an understatement. so one day, chan decides he’s got enough. he asks his manager what would happen if people found out about you two, and when he learns that he won’t get kicked out nor be put on hiatus, he’s determined to go against whatever advice his pr team told him. it’s soon valentine’s day and you’re out on a date, in the open. you’re not wearing anything to hide your identity and chan’s so proud when you hold his hand for everyone to see. you both feel your phones buzzing in your pockets but your reservation at a cute restaurant is more important to you. you know you might get scolded by your managers but when you see all the many positive reactions from your fans, you’re just happy you decided to not wear a mask and sunglasses that day.

☆ LEE KNOW

you and your boyfriend follow a simple routine, going to work early, practicing and attending schedules during the day and leaving for home late at night. it’s easy, simple, but never gets boring, the conversations or the comfortable silence on the ride back home make up for missing each other’s presence during the day. as your relationship is still a secret to the public, you wait for the other in the building’s underground parking lot, sunglasses and cap on. you’ve never been caught before and you always manage to get home without trouble. on some rough days, a small step gets added to the simple routine– a makeout session, right in the car in the underground parking lot. honestly, you should have been more careful, looking at your surroundings and checking if someone was around instead of throwing your arms around lee know’s neck the moment he stepped into your car. but then again, lee know would have thrown himself at you instead. guess there was no way to avoid having your faces plastered all over the internet the next day.

☆ CHANGBIN

decides to film a vlog one day and goes to the gym at the end of it. the short “gym” scene doesn’t last long and is sped up but fans still notice the light yellow metal bottle next to the leg press machine and almost out of the camera’s view. the metal bottle seems familiar to some and they realize it’s because you have the same one. you had bought it and showed it to fans when you decided to go to the gym more regularly. not even a day later, multiple theories pop up on social media about how you and changbin have been “gyming” together with ultimate proof, your water bottle. what doesn’t help calm the rumors down are your posts on bubble, where you grieve the loss of your dear metal water bottle because you accidentally forgot it at the gym. your relationship is truly revealed only months later though (because let’s be honest, a water bottle isn’t real proof), when you and changbin film a gym vlog together.

☆ HYUNJIN

you are both invited to a certain fashion show as the global ambassadors for that famous brand and decide it’s a good time to sneak out for a little while paparazzi are infesting the place. after sitting on uncomfortable chairs for hours and having to listen to business people gloat about their new contract and brand deals, you and hyunjin slip away for a few minutes, just enough to share a few romantic kisses and regain enough energy to get through the day. you didn’t think you would get caught to be honest, but one amateur and curious paparazzi ruins your little bubble with hyunjin. the flashes and the clicks of the camera brings you both back to earth and you’re pissed. after glaring at the paparazzi, you both manage to sneak back to your seats but the damage is already done. you’re already trending all over social media and getting lots of texts from your manager on the way back to the hotel that same night.

☆ JISUNG

jisung likes to produce and compose lots of songs, for his job as an idol but also in his free time. you, his dear partner, has always been one of his biggest supporters, and as one of the closest persons in his life, jisung often dedicates songs to you. it’s really sweet, the way he would spend some time working on a song before calling you to come over to the studio so he could show you. you always react the same way when finding out the song is about you, tears forming in your eyes and cheeks and ears turning red. You’ve helped him a lot since debut, stayed by his side and encouraged him, so with each year passing by, the number of songs dedicated to you become ridiculously higher– Jisung even had to make a separate folder on his laptop for all those songs. that’s how people find out too. the group films a behind the scenes video of a song recording, and the editors hadn’t noticed that the folder with songs about you was visible on jisung’s screen. to be fair, you could barely see it, but fans still notice it, your name in bold letters.

☆ FELIX

even before you and felix started dating, he had always been so supportive of you, buying your group’s albums, congratulating you on your music show wins, and showering you in praise after every performance– it was easy falling in love with him. his support only doubled when you officially got together; he would bring you your favorite snacks, give you water backstage and casually recommend your group’s music during his lives. he followed you on bubble too, and the fact he only follows you on there makes you giddy every time. however, you had never thought people would find out about your secret love through the app. it was during an interview that the journalist asked his group how bubble worked, and felix answered quickly, explaining it all from the point of view of a fan. he received many confused stares back and he, as naive as he is, could only retaliate that he’s subscribed to your bubble, so he knows how it work. chaos ensues and he truly does not know how to repair it, only further aggravating the situation by telling his fans he’s only subscribed to your bubble and no other artists when people asked him about their favs.

☆ SEUNGMIN

ever since you had started dating, you were both really good at hiding your relationship– you both paid a lot of attention to your behaviors and actions so as to not raise any suspicions, because even though you were confident the relationship would last, you weren’t sure if your fans would react positively. getting stressed and breaking up because of the public’s bad reaction was definitely not part of what you wanted. however, you didn’t expect for people to find out anyway, almost crying when you found out the public ‘knew’. that didn’t stop you from gaping at the dispatch article though– they thought you two were dating because of snacks?! turns out that fans knew you pretty well, being aware you hated oranges although you bought them weekly (for him). same thing on seungmin’s side of the fandom, he weekly bought spicy food (for you), although he swore he couldn’t stand it. it was definitely unexpected how fast fans managed to come to the conclusion you were dating, but hey, at least you didn’t have to divert the subject anymore when someone asked you why you bought orange flavored candy.

☆ JEONGIN

one of the things that really helped you and jeongin get together was how often your schedules lined up. being under two different companies made it harder to see each other but more often than not, your comebacks would happen around the same time, allowing you and jeongin to meet up backstage at music shows. both your groups were aware of your relationship so they sometimes helped you two sneak away to meet– they couldn’t stand hearing both of you whine about missing the other any longer. what you liked the most during those music shows was how often your and jeongin’s group were competing for a music show win. for your latest comebacks, your group had won against his and when you glanced over at your boyfriend, the one thing he did was blow you a subtle kiss and mouth “i love you”. you mouthed it back and thought that was the end of it, until both of you were trending on twitter, a video of you two blowing kisses to each other from across the stage going viral.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @equalheart @pointlessapple @yyx2 @enluv

please do not copy, steal or repost any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

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goblinontour · 7 days ago

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A Pair Of Wine Lips

he fucks you better than your husband

warnings: smut, piv, boobjob, cheating, me going on about him being hung for way too long

word count: 6.2k

You had too much on your plate. And your hands. Quite literally. Phone, drink, takeout bag, other bags, his bag, your bag — what else? You wouldn’t have been carrying all of it on your own if he hadn’t gotten that “very important” work call.

How important could anything be when it came down to a sales assistant — excuse you, “brand ambassador.” And on a Saturday, no less. Important enough, apparently, for your husband to dump every single bag onto you so he could pace around with his phone pressed to his ear, his free hand gesturing wildly in the air. You’d watched him weave in circles on the pavement, tracking his steps back and forth, while the bags dug into your palms. It had been somewhere around ten minutes of this, and by the look of his hand waving, he wasn’t wrapping up anytime soon.

You’d noticed a flower stand nearby, a cart spilling over with reds and yellows, snapdragons and sunflowers in makeshift buckets. Figured it’d be the best distraction you could get until he finished. If only he could last that long in other places, you muttered, smirking to yourself. As you inched toward the stand, teetering under the weight of the bags, you managed to tilt your head over a bundle of roses, trying to take in a bit of their perfume — but the carefully balanced stack in your arms wobbled, then tipped, spilling everything in a heap on the sidewalk.

“Need a hand?” came a voice — low, thick like honey, with a lilt of something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced up, and there he was, leaning down to pick up the scattered bags, easy as anything.

He had this buzz cut, a close-cropped edge that somehow suited him perfectly, revealing the shape of his cheekbones, sharp and angular, and his jawline, defined enough to look almost sculpted. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but the way he moved, so deliberate, so steady, made you feel like he could see right through you even with them on. And the irony wasn’t lost on you, because rain was clearly on the way — the clouds rolling in were practically swallowing the afternoon light, dimming the street around you. But there he was, standing beside you in the gloom, hair buzzed close, shades on, wearing a jacket that looked soft enough to sink into.

“Here you go.” he said, holding out the bags he’d picked up, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. There was a care in his movements, a gentleness that made you feel seen for the first time all day, maybe all week. His gaze dropped to the bags you still held, and for a moment, his hand lingered, steadying your grip as he passed the last one over.

“Thanks.” you managed, finally finding your voice. It was awkward, catching your husband’s voice on the periphery, still barking into the phone, oblivious to everything. “Sorry- I didn’t mean to dump this all out at your feet.”

“Oh, no trouble.” His voice was warm, and he lingered for a second, as if you were someone worth staying a little longer for. He pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, clicking it with his thumb. You watched, dazed, as he leaned in and wrote his number on the paper bag you were clutching. Gliding black ink. His fingers brushed yours, light as a whisper.

“There.” he murmured, tilting his head just slightly, like he was looking over his sunglasses at you, reading you. “If you ever need a hand with anything else.”

Your mouth went dry, your heart fluttering beneath your ribs. For a moment, you were caught in a spell, in the warmth of his voice and the glint of that hidden gaze. You didn’t mention your husband, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he just smiled — a slow, knowing smile that left you weak on the spot. He turned, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he went, but not before glancing back over his shoulder one last time.

And with that, he left you there, bags in hand, a number scrawled across the paper, and a spark of something kindled deep inside you.

This should have been a forget it situation. The kind of thing you crumple up and toss in the trash of your mind, like an impulse you’d never act on. But you held onto that bag. And when you got home, you carefully transferred his number from the crinkled paper to your phone, fingers trembling just a little as you typed it in. For days, you let it sit there, an unnamed contact, glinting back at you whenever you scrolled past.

Why were you even thinking of calling him? Was it just for a bit of attention? Or were you just…a bad woman? But you had a feeling that he liked bad women, and the thought made your stomach flip, an electric thrill you hadn’t felt in a long time. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew that call was going to happen eventually.

When you finally pressed “call” your heart hammered, every nerve in your body suddenly alive. You’d barely registered the dial tone when he picked up, the sound of his voice rough, catching you off-guard.

“Hello?”

For a second, you froze. You hadn’t been ready to speak, let alone with him on the other end, sounding like that.

“Hi, stranger. Did I…wake you?” You heard yourself, chipper, a bit too eager, and it threw you for a second. But it felt good to play this game.

“Oh, you…” His voice softened at the recognition. “Hello, you.”

He coughed, a scratchy, lazy sound that somehow made your pulse quicken. You pictured him rolling over, stretching an arm across rumpled sheets.

“Would it make me seem like a bad person if I was asleep at 3 in the afternoon?” he asked, voice thick with sleep, laced with a smirk you could hear even through the line.

“Would it make me a bad person if I woke you up?” you shot back, matching his tone. It felt dangerous, that little exchange, and thrilling. You liked the way it felt on your tongue.

“I don’t mind.”

A quiet hung between you, a silence that stretched, strangely intimate. It wasn’t the kind of silence that demanded filling, but it tugged at you all the same. You heard him shift. You couldn’t help but imagine him lying there, head nestled into the pillow, dark eyes half-lidded in the dimness of his room.

“You need your knight in shining armour again?” a tease laced with just enough of a challenge to make your heart beat faster.

“What?” It went over your head for a second, the memory of your last encounter washing over you. “Oh…I suppose I do.” you murmured, leaning into the words, letting them linger between you.

“Alex, by the way.” he said, his tone low and amused. “I think we didn’t get to introductions last time.”

You told him your name, almost shyly. He whispered it back, like he was memorising it, tasting each syllable.

Alex had taken you to dinner before he took you to his place. True to form, he insisted on paying, playing the gentleman with an ease that you found unexpectedly charming. You didn’t mind it — not even a little. There was something delicious about letting him take the lead, about letting yourself be wined and dined for once. You hadn’t felt this light, this seen, in so long. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed it.

The wine had continued long after the restaurant, past the quiet walk to his door, until you found yourself settled comfortably into the worn-in corner of his couch. You thought about looking around, about taking in the details of his place — the books on the shelves, the art on the walls — but you decided to let him reveal himself, to find him through him, in what he chose to share. Letting him unfold on his own terms.

“Nice little place you’ve got.” you said with a half-smile, leaning back as he turned from the kitchen, wine bottle in hand.

“Little?” He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye as he looked you over, cutting through the wine-softened haze you were in.

“I didn’t mean-” you stammered, flustered by the look he gave you, by how sharply it sliced through the comfortable lull between you. But before you could say more, he stepped forward, placing the glass back in your hand, his fingers brushing yours. Your hand tightened instinctively around the stem as you felt a quiet shiver ripple down your spine.

“Nothing’s little over ’ere.” he murmured, wrapped in that smoky accent, daring. He hovered for a second, watching the blush creep up your cheeks, and leaned back with a smirk that made your stomach twist.

You managed a breathless laugh, feeling the heat rise in you, and took a long sip from your glass, grateful for the way the wine let you hide a bit behind the glass. He settled onto the couch beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the air between you thickening with every inch he took closer.

“I can assure you.” he added, his eyes flickering over you as he unbuttoned another button of his white shirt. You couldn’t help but look, your eyes trailing over the hollow of his throat, the bare stretch of his collarbone and the hint of a lean chest beneath the fabric. His skin was flushed, a sheen of sweat just barely glistening in the low light, like he was feeling the same kind of heat you were.

It felt like a test, like he was asking you something without saying a word.

You debated holding back, feeling that fluttering urge to play coy, to tease this out longer. But in the end, you knew it’d be a waste of time — for both of you. This moment felt inevitable, like the two of you had been moving toward it since the second you locked eyes at that flower stand. So you gave in, shifting forward and swinging your leg over his lap, settling over him. Your hand pressed against his chest. The glasses in your hands bumped together, spilling a few drops of wine between you, but neither of you cared.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, fingers splayed against your sides. “You wanna make sure?” he murmured, the barest smirk at the edge of his lips. “Shouldn’t make big claims if you’re not ready for an over-check.”

“And you’re ready?” you asked.

“I’m ready.”

His words went straight through you. You wanted to eat him whole, to devour every look, every unspoken invitation he was offering you. A boldness welled up inside you as you tilted the glass in your hand, spilling the last of the wine down the front of his shirt, watching the deep red stain bloom across the white fabric.

He gasped, an exaggerated look of mock offense crossing his face, followed by a playful scoff. “Well, guess you need to take it off.” you whispered, leaning closer so he could feel your breath against his cheek.

“Oh, you guess so?” he shot back, eyes narrowing with a kind of wild mischief that made your pulse race.

“Yeah.” you murmured, lips barely an inch from his. His hands tightened on your waist, drawing you closer, pulling you against him until your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Yeah.” he echoed.

And then his lips were on yours, warm and insistent. His mouth moved, his hand pressing against the small of your back to draw you closer. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his wine-stained shirt as his tongue swept against yours, tasting the culprit on your breath. He was all heat and tension, the rough warmth of his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, grazing your skin as his mouth pressed harder against yours.

He was impatient, his hands everywhere, tugging, reaching, wanting, while your body moved against his, heat pooling between you. His fingers tangled through the layers of fabric between you, pulling insistently until they finally found its way to your breast, his touch rough, his hot warm against your skin. He was hot. Everything was hot.

“You’re so hot.” he murmured against your neck, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there, and the vibration of his voice made your spine arch, hips grinding over his with a mind of their own.

“Thanks.” you whispered back, breathless, tilting your head to give him more access as he trailed his mouth up your jawline, each kiss more urgent than the last.

“You’re welcome.” he breathed, pulling back just long enough to grip your shirt and give it a tug. The buttons popped, scattering across the couch, hunger and awe.

He was nothing if not dramatic. “Sorry.” he said, voice low, as his hands splayed across your bare skin. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine. We’re even now.” You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling the tight muscle beneath his shirt as your hips shifted again, pressing down over the hard shape of him through his jeans.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He smirked, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes, hands slipping around to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel his strength. “You did insult my size.”

“Of the house.”

“Which is a reflection of the owner, isn’t it?” His hands skimmed down your back, pressing your body closer against him, until you could feel every inch of him. “I won’t let myself be littled.”

“Fine.” you murmured. You could already feel him — not little — and your cheeks flushed at the thought, your body thrumming as his hands roamed over your bare back, the tension in his body a barely-contained force under your hands.

He tilted his head, capturing your lips in another kiss, his mouth soft, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Your bodies moved in a slow, pulsing rhythm, building heat. You pressed down harder, the rough fabric of his jeans a friction that made your pulse quicken, and he groaned, a low, ragged sound that told you he was feeling it, too. His fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you into a slow grind, pushing you both to the edge of restraint.

He had you turned around so easily. You’d managed to open his shirt, your fingers grazing the warmth of his skin underneath, but you hadn’t gotten it off yet, hadn’t seen the full strength in his arms — but you could feel it now with his chest pressed to your back. The way he gripped you, his fingers digging in just enough to make your skin tingle, told you everything you needed to know. His thighs tensed beneath you, solid.

“You gonna let the little one in tonight?” he murmured, his accent curling around each word.

“Yeah.” you breathed out, barely recognizing your own voice. You pushed yourself up, enough to slip your pants and underwear down, letting them fall to your ankles. Before you could even fully settle, his arms came around you, pulling you back down, holding you tightly. He thrust up, needy, leaving no space between you. A slick warmth spread and you felt the wetness you were leaving on him, a messy streak over the front of his jeans. He let out a low, rough chuckle.

“Makin’ a mess on all my clothes.” he said.

“You don’t mind.” you whispered, leaning closer.

His hands gripped your waist tighter. “I really don’t.” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. He held you, hands roaming over your skin, lingering in places that made you ache, made you want to pull him closer until there was nothing left at all.

“Let the little one speak.” you teased, a challenge, enough to spark that glint in his eye.

You felt the subtle tug of a zipper, the quiet sound as he slid it down. His boxers shifted, and you felt him, hard and hot against you, the head of him nudging right at your entrance. He kept one hand around your throat, not tight, but enough to hold your gaze with his own, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Don’t peek.” he warned, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, even as his breathing grew shallow, betraying the restraint he was barely holding onto.

“I won’t.” you whispered, licking a trail up to his ear. “Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

In a seamless motion, he thrust up as he pulled you down, guiding you onto him. The feeling was deep. That was the only thing that came to you. Intense, leaving you breathless, and you could barely contain the gasp that escaped your lips. He filled you completely, and the pressure was perfect, a slow, steady stretch that made every nerve in your body hum.

He was big – you’d known – but it was more than you’d imagined. He fit inside you with an ease that felt both unexpected and inevitable, as though your body had been waiting for this exact moment. His tip brushed against that perfect spot almost instantly, sending a jolt through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him, hands reaching back and nails digging into his shoulders as you let yourself sink onto him.

He didn’t move, holding you there, just as you were, letting you adjust, his hand still wrapped loosely around your throat, the other trailing down your front. You could feel every subtle shift of his body, every little twitch and throb, each one setting off sparks that made you ache for more. He leaned forward, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushing just beneath it as he whispered, “Ready?”

In response, you shifted your hips, pressing yourself harder against him, feeling every inch, letting the heat build until he finally started to move. His rhythm was slow, almost torturous, but each thrust drove him deeper, making you gasp as he hit that spot again and again. It was a blur of heat and urgency, neither of you willing to let down, driven by a shared hunger that was finally spilling over.

His hands gripped the backs of your knees, spreading you open as he thrust harder, a ferocity starting to spill into every movement, and you were clutching onto him like he was the only solid thing keeping you grounded. His shirt was still hanging off his shoulders, half-buttoned and wrinkled, and you’d barely managed to slip out of your own clothes, but none of it mattered.

“Fuck, yeah.” he groaned, his voice rough, watching you. His eyes flicked between your face and your body, watching the way your breasts bounced right under his nose, the way you arched into him, utterly lost in the rhythm he was setting. You could barely hold his stare, making you feel almost vulnerable in its rawness.

“Yeah.” you moaned, barely able to get the word out as he buried himself deeper, hips moving in a relentless rhythm that left you gasping. The sounds filled the room, each moan, each breath layering over the other, building like the heat pooling between you. It became a question of who could be louder, your voices blending, overlapping, neither of you wanting to let the other win, each new sound spurring him to thrust harder, to make you scream his name.

“God, you’re gonna ruin me.” he muttered, voice half-lost in the strain of holding himself back. His fingers tightened around your legs.

“You’re already ruined.” you managed to tease back.

That made him smirk even as his eyes darkened. He let out a low, strained laugh, each word rough as he ground out, “Say that again when you’re the one begging me to stop.”

You moved your hand between you, fingers finding your clit, and you watched his eyes narrow as he caught what you were doing. “Fuck- wanna come on your tits.” he breathed, his voice thick and almost pleading. His hips stuttered for a second, the strain clear in the tight line of his jaw as he tried to focus, his gaze drifting down to where your fingers moved.

“You don’t mind if I help myself then.” you said, arching a little under him, every stroke pushing you closer to the release you could feel hovering just out of reach.

“Help yourself?” he repeated, a low murmur that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his hand moving to your throat again, thumb brushing against your jaw as he smirked. “Go on, then. Show me how much you want it.”

You moaned, barely able to hold his stare as your fingers moved faster. His hand tightened around your throat. He watched, captivated, his hips moving slower, more purposeful, every thrust drawing out the tension, letting it build until it was almost unbearable. “You look so good.” he whispered. “Fuck- you’re gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Alex- fuck- so close…”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Not so little now, huh?”

It was too much. Your body tightened, every muscle tensing as you reached that peak, pleasure washing over you, clenching around him, completely undone. He felt it, felt every shudder, every spasm as you came, his hands tightening around you. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

He kept moving, thrusting deep and slow, riding out your release, every inch of him coaxing a new tremor from you, drawing it out until you were left gasping, completely undone in his arms. He held you close, his own breath coming in ragged pants as he tried to keep control, his hands roaming over your chest.

“You made a mess of me.” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a hint of amusement as he looked down at the slick stain between you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I guess I can forgive you.”

“Forgive me?” you managed to whisper, barely catching your breath, a teasing smile forming as you tilted your head.

“I think you owe me.”

“Do I?” you turned in his arms, lips brushing against his ear. “Then let’s see if we can make it even.”

“Get down, will ya?” he murmured. He ran his thumb along his length, stroking himself slowly, keeping just enough control to hold back until you’d settled yourself between his thighs.

The way he looked in that moment felt almost unreal — like something straight out of a daydream you didn’t know you’d had. His jeans were pooled around his ankles, his legs spread open and relaxed as he sat back, his thighs taut and flexing with each movement. His shirt, still half-unbuttoned and wrinkled from everything you’d just done, hung loose on his shoulders, almost slipping off entirely, but not quite. A light sheen of sweat clung to his collarbone. One hand was behind his head, fingers running over his hair as he watched you, that smug, satisfied look on his face only deepening as he took in the sight.

“Down here for me, yeah?” You shifted on your knees, glancing up, and he reached forward, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “You look so good like this.” he said. “Think you can take care of me, love?”

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you let your hand slide up his thigh, feeling the heat radiating off him, your fingers brushing over the pulse beating against his skin. “What do you want?” You reached up, brushing his hand aside with a soft, “Let me.” You took hold of him, your hand curling around his length, feeling him twitch at your touch, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he spread them wider.

He let out a shaky breath, that cocky smirk fading slightly as you stroked him. He was trying, but he wasn’t fooling you — his chest was heaving.

“Or do you just want to watch?” you teased, arching an eyebrow as you pushed your chest up against him. You saw his jaw clench, his hand flexing on the back of his head as he kept his gaze on you, unwilling to look away.

“Whatever you’ll let me do.” he mumbled, as though you’d taken the breath out of him. “Think I could watch you like this for hours.” His eyes were fixed on you, but you could see the strain in his expression, the way his lips parted as his breaths came faster. “But you’re making it hard to last much longer.”

You hugged his cock between your breasts, the warmth of his skin against you making your own heartbeat quicken. You pushed them together, creating a perfect channel just for him, your skin soft and warm as you began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had him on edge immediately.

His head almost tipped back as the sensation washed over him, but he forced himself to look down, to drink it in. The hand that had been propping his head now drifted to his neck, fingers brushing over his own collar, as if needing to feel something to keep from slipping under. He looked undone.

“God…fuck…look at you.” he groaned, the sound deep and guttural. His hips bucked slightly, unable to stay still, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that made your own need flare again. “You look…you look fucking perfect, you know that?”

You smiled up at him, giving him a teasing squeeze with your chest, which drew a low moan from his lips. His hands gripped his own thighs, fingers digging in as he watched you, every torturous movement you made.

“You like that?” you whispered, leaning forward just enough to tease your tongue along the head of his cock, tasting him briefly before letting him fall back between your breasts.

“Like it? I- fuck- yeah, I do.” he muttered, his voice rough and full of heat. “But…think I’m close…so close, love. Keep going…” His hand gripped the back of his neck again, muscles flexing as he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he forced them open, unwilling to miss a single moment.

“Good.” you murmured, hugging him tighter between your breasts.

His head tilted back. “God, that’s good.” he breathed, barely able to get the words out. “So fucking good.”

Your pace quickened, and you could feel the way he was straining, every muscle in his body tensing as he got closer. You looked up at him, catching his gaze, and whispered, “You wanna come all over me, don’t you?”

The sound that left him was half a groan, half a laugh, his hand flexing on the back of his head as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re killin’ me, love.” he muttered, his accent coming out thicker. “Think you know exactly what I want.”

You pressed tighter, moving with just enough friction, watching as his breathing turned shallow, his gaze flicking down to where you held him, to the way you kept him close.

“God, just like that…” he muttered, voice breaking as his body shuddered. “Don’t stop.”

And then, with one more deliberate squeeze, one more slow, torturous stroke, he let go and came undone. His hips jerked, and his head tipped back, eyes closing as a rough, broken moan spilled from his lips. Warmth splashed across your chest, painting your skin as he came, each pulse wracking his body, leaving him shuddering above you.

“Fuckkk-” he groaned, the word dragged out as he rode the last waves of his release. His body was taut, his hand falling from his neck to grip the couch beside him as he came down, breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. He looked utterly wrecked, blissed out, his gaze soft as he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, at the evidence of his desire smeared across your skin.

“Fuck me…” he murmured, voice still rough as he watched the way his cum streaked over your chest, down to your stomach. He smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he ran a thumb over your cheek, brushing away a stray streak that had landed there. “Guess I owe you one hell of a clean-up, don’t I?”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “Worth it?” you asked.

His lips curled, his touch moving along your jaw, soft and appreciative. “More than you could know.” he murmured, his voice warm and low. His eyes followed the path he traced, utterly transfixed by you.

The steam from the shower curled through the small bathroom, fogging the mirror as you stood there in his towel — too big for you, wrapping you in his scent and the lingering heat. You adjusted it, tucking the corner more securely across your chest, your fingers trembling slightly, though not from the chill.

From the bed, his voice carried easily into the bathroom. “You staying?” It was casual, almost lazy, but there was an edge of something more, a thread of curiosity tugging at the question.

You glanced up into the mirror, catching sight of him reflected in the glass. He was sprawled on the bed, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, legs spread wide like he owned the space and everything in it. Because, well, he did. One arm was tucked behind his head, his bicep flexing slightly, while the other lay across his stomach, fingers tracing aimless patterns on his skin and his eyes — half-lidded but sharp — were locked on you.

God, he was a beautiful man.

You hesitated for half a second before walking over, your feet sticking against the floor as you approached the bed. The cool sheets pressed against your skin as you adjusted yourself beside him. “Do you want me to stay?” you asked, your voice light but tinged with genuine curiosity.

He propped himself up on one elbow, tilted his head, studying you, looking you over with a smile that bordered on smug. “I wouldn’t be opposed.” he said, patting the space next to him.

“I can stay.” you said softly, climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. You settled beside him, your towel clinging precariously to your body. He rolled onto his side to face you, his legs stretching out, the towel draping low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

But it was his next words that made the air between you shift.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his fingers reached out, brushing against your arm. And then, with a soft hum, he said it “Won’t be a problem with your husband?”

Your body stiffened, his words hitting you like a jolt. What?

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was suddenly pounding.

He didn’t falter. If anything, he seemed amused, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He gave you a small, almost apologetic shrug, but the smirk on his face didn’t fade. “You’ve got a tan line,” he said casually, nodding toward your hand, “right around where a ring would’ve been. Figured you’d have a husband or…fiancé? Someone, at least.”

Your mouth opened and closed, the shock rendering you momentarily speechless. “You- what?”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that only irritated you more in the moment. “Why are you surprised I noticed that?” he asked, propping his head up with his hand, watching you like he was thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. “I just fucked your brains out, love. You really thought I wouldn’t notice the details?” He raised a brow, still smirking. “Am I wrong?” His voice was calm, teasing almost, but the sharpness of his eyes told you he was reading you, piecing you together.

Your cheeks burned, and you sat up, pulling the towel tighter around you like it could somehow shield you from the weight of his gaze. “I- It’s not like that.” you said, the words tumbling out too quickly, too defensive.

“Oh?” He was clearly not letting you off the hook. “So what’s it like, then?”

You scrambled for an explanation, something that didn’t make you sound like the exact mess you were. “I’m…I didn’t think it was something you’d pick up on.” you said finally, the words feeling clunky in your mouth. “Most men aren’t that observant.”

Alex chuckled softly. “I’m not most men.” he said. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now. I’m just curious. What’s the story?” he prompted.

You bit your lip, glancing away, unsure how much to say. But you knew he wouldn’t let it go — not with that curiosity dancing in his eyes. “There’s not much to tell.” you started, shrugging. “I’m married. Things…they aren’t great.”

He nodded slowly, his thumb idly brushing against your knee, oddly comforting. “Not great enough to explain why you’re here?”

You met his gaze, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s complicated.”

He hummed, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Complicated enough for you to slip that ring off before you came out today?” You didn’t respond. “Complicated.” he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue like it amused him. He didn’t press you further, though, instead leaning back against the pillows, his arms stretching above his head in a way that made his muscles flex just enough to distract you. “Fair enough.” he said after a beat. “I’m not judging, you know.”

“You’re not?” you asked, your voice sceptical.

He shrugged, the movement casual. “Not really my place to, is it? You’re here, aren’t you?” He smirked, his gaze dropping to your chest where his towel clung, barely keeping you covered. “Guess I just find it interesting…all those little things people don’t say.”

You didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to expect you to. Instead, he leaned over, his hand trailing along your arm again, his touch soft now, almost comforting. “Look,” he said, his voice quieter, less teasing, “I’m not trying to make this a big thing. Just thought I’d say it, that’s all.”

“You’re really observant, huh?”

He grinned, but it wasn’t cocky — just knowing. “I like details. Like how you tried to act like this was just a bit of fun, but I can tell you’ve been starving for this. For someone to actually see you.”

You blinked, his words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “Alex…”

He shook his head gently, sitting up now, the towel slipping lower, giving you a better view of his toned stomach. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m just saying…I get it.” His voice softened, and the shift in his tone made you look at him fully. “Sometimes things go stale. People stop paying attention. And then there’s someone who notices you’re wearing a towel that’s too big because it’s mine.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?” he asked, leaning closer, his hand sliding up to your thigh.

“At making it seem like you don’t care about what you’re asking…but you actually do.”

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head as if conceding your point. “Maybe I do. But only because you’re interesting.” His voice dropped a little, his hand squeezing your thigh lightly. “And you’re beautiful. And I don’t think you hear that enough.”

Your breath hitched, his words catching you off guard. The way he looked at you felt disarming. “You don’t even know me.” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, “but I know enough. Enough to know you’re not staying here because you’re scared of me. Or because this is just a distraction.” He shifted closer, his other hand brushing a stray hair from your face. “You’re staying because, for once, you want something for yourself.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you hated how close he was to the truth. “You think you know me that well?”

“I think I know what it’s like to want more.” he said, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “And I think you do too.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the vulnerability creeping in again. “This isn’t…I don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think anything.” he cut in gently, his hand slipping to your chin, tilting your face toward him. “I just want you to be here. No expectations. No questions. Just…stay.”

Your lips parted, the words caught in your throat as his gaze locked onto yours, warm and inviting and patient. And for the first time in a long time, you felt seen. Really seen. Without judgment, without assumptions. Just for who you were in that moment.

His words hung between you for a moment, and then he tilted his head again, a softer smile spreading on his lips. “You staying or not?” he asked again, his voice gentler this time.

You exhaled, letting yourself relax just enough to meet his gaze. “I’m staying.” you said firmly, settling back down beside him.

“Good.” he murmured, rolling closer, his hand slipping around your waist as he pulled you against him. “I’d have had to convince you otherwise.”

a/n: Initially wanted this to be more moody but it turned out like this, I guess it's better. And boobjob. And bald Alex. I think I want to start a little series after this, and I want to write it all, or at least the first few parts before I start posting it. It's not gonna be as long as mr turner or once upon a time were (and I mean the length of the individual parts, they'll probably be shorter, I'm not sure exactly yet). So far I'm thinking 6 parts because there are 6 pictures I want to use as the covers, that's what I'm going off of.

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #goblinontour

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thesummerpetrichor · 1 year ago

Text

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷: 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’ 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: When you got dragged along to your father's weekend embassy getaway you were not expecting to meet the one man he couldn't stand. You weren't expecting to catch his eye. You weren't expecting that you'd be fucking him to get back at your father. You sure as hell weren't expecting him to be finger fucking you under your dinner table.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, reader is the ambassador’s daughter [please do not imagine your real dads because this shit gets nasty], thicc age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javier is in his 40s], petnames, Javi can lift reader, mommy and daddy issues for spice, use of ‘daddy’ [once] for extra spice, explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink, mean!dom!brat tamer!Javi, brat!reader, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, semi public sex, fingering under the table, oral [m receiving], facial [oop], slight cumplay?, spanking, choking [like once], unprotected P in V [ do better!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word Count: 10.4k

A/N: This is part one of three (1/3) that follows these two's little horny adventure over the weekend. Pure and utter filth because I dreamt about being on an embassy vacay with Javi. Absolute depravity but I hope you nasties enjoy mwah!! 💗

Masterlist

Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem

Lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf

Sophie’s eyes shot open, mouth falling agape as she slowly turned her head in your direction. “You’re fucking kidding!” Lyn was already leaning over you, her upper body between her and your recliner, and Maria and Sandra had picked up their cocktails and skirted closer.

“DEA Javier?” Anne’s not so subtle reaction prompted a collective “shush” from the group. She lowered her voice, but sounded just as shocked as she did moments ago. “Mean, grumpy, asshole Javier?!” Sandra leaned in closer, then raised her brows at the former indicatively.

“Pornstar Javier.”

Maria smacked the both of you on your shoulders, her expression nothing short of grossed out. “You mean my tio Javier.”

Sighing you let your head fall back against your chair, legs stretched out and crossed over one another as you brought your straw to your upturned lips. Maria dropped her head on your shoulder. “You're going to kill your father”. Giggles floated through the warm afternoon air, drowned out partially by the music emanating from the restaurant nearby.

You were an unspecified amount of drinks into the morning, but more drunk on the prospect that Agent Peña was now in a prison of his own mind, having started something that had spun quickly out of his control. The sun was shining down on your mostly bare body, skin glittering thanks to the tiny droplets of water that gemmed your legs from when you’d walked across the beach and let the waves crash gently against them.

Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you met his gawking eyes from across the pool. He was hunched over a whiskey at the bar, pretending like he wasn’t eye fucking his bosses daughter mere seconds ago, enjoying the view under the guise of relaxing with his partners.

You shot him a wink, concealing your smirk with your strawberry daiquiri when he nearly choked on his drink– clumsily accepting the paper napkin Carillo confusedly offered him.

You had legitimately tried every possible way of getting out of joining your dad on his little embassy getaway. It was the middle of summer, and spending the weekend with a bunch of retirees, cops, and CIA agents was not exactly what you would call an ideal vacation. But as always you ended up giving in, and before you knew it you were in Cartagena, sunhat perched on your head, checking into the hotel.

Why you indulged him was a mystery to you. The man had practically disappeared for six months, and then called you out of the blue begging you to tag along. It was like having the perfect family was a requirement at that shitty excuse of a job. You were convinced you were just there to be an accessory to his polished image, some sort of certificate of achievement for whatever the hell he called parenting.

But a free vacation? Free booze? Food? And a weekend with your friends? That seemed worth the trouble of having to deal with him for a couple of days, say ‘hi’ to and make menial conversation with his co workers, and sit through whatever superficial dinner they hosted to pat themselves on the back for the work they did over the past year.

Admittedly, it was going a lot better than you had initially expected. The oldies sat around playing cards– trying to discuss retirement plans and secure raises, and you stayed far away, sipping cocktails by the pool, lounging in the summer sun, and watching the volleyball matches on the sand. Cartagena had terrific beaches, and the DEA had a whole lot of people who contributed to the view.

At least they were good for something.

Their attaché was good for a lot of things.

Despite having never met him, you knew quite a lot about Javier Peña. How could you not? The man was on your dad’s mind more than your entire family. Insolent, dismissive, inflexible, impudent, you could go on for hours. You wondered what he was really like– the guy who had gotten more attention from your father in two years of his career than you did your entire life.

Expecting some grumpy, old, grubby handed man who spent all his time trying to pick up women at bars– calling it espionage, you were knocked for six when you saw tall, brown haired, broad shouldered, cut jaw, Agent Peña respond to his name being called across the reception. For how much the ambassador liked to discuss him he had completely glossed over his striking good looks.

Even though he wasn’t difficult to miss among the senior citizens it wasn’t his ‘pinup boy’ persona that initially caught your attention. From the moment you’d dragged your suitcase up the lobby staircase you couldn't help but shake the feeling that someone's eyes had been following you. You brushed it off at first, but their gaze had burnt a hole into your back soon enough, and you were forced to scout the room for the supposed perpetrator.

For better or for worse your voyeur did little to hide their private indulgence. Leaning against the concierge's desk you met the eyes of the one person you were least expecting to have caught the interest of. Granted, Javier looked rather delicious in his dark jeans and blue, cotton shirt, you’d expect he’d have at least a little more shame than everyone at the embassy gave him credit for.

It was quite flattering actually, the way he was eating up the sight of you in your sundress– that one you bought on your vacation in Italy last summer, the one that fell just above mid thigh, with that soft, white, cotton fabric that was perfect for the hot weather. He was smoking a cigarette beside your father’s assistant Colleen, and a blonde man whose face was turned away from you. His eyes raked over your body and landed on the pendant your dad gifted you for your birthday as it dangled from your neck– the blue diamond brushing over the valley between your breasts.

He knew you’d caught him, but that didn’t stop the man. It was admirable.

You had to assume he didn’t know who you were, because if he did he was pretty adventurous for salivating over you so openly, with your father just a few feet away. It wasn't difficult to get on the ambassador’s shit list, and by far Agent Peña seemed to be kicking everyone’s ass for the top spot. The fact that he was so obviously avoiding the ambassador wasn’t doing him any favors. Maybe this was his twisted way of getting back at your dad. Maybe you liked that it was.

Your father moved around the crowded lobby, switching pleasantries with the mostly sunburned crowd. He didn’t bother dragging you along for introductions, and usually you’d prefer being perched on the couch with your friends, but it was almost impossible not to feel a little left out when he cornered Peña and his blonde friend near the flavored water.

You watched from a distance as the ambassador took the blonde’s hand, shook it and then quite violently patted his back before he shook Peña’s shoulder in a painfully forced gesture. Truth be told, you felt quite bad for the man. It was a shame really– getting forced into spending a weekend with the only people more insufferable than the cartels.

For him, that is.

—

It's alarming, honestly, how charming she can be

Fooling everyone, telling 'em she's having fun

The smell of a well cooked meal should not have excited you as much as it did. But the prospect of being able to eat something that wasn’t cooked by your mother was far too appealing to pass upon. Lunch was served, even though you knew it was meant to be more of a commencement ceremony for the weekend.

You looked towards the restaurant– serenely sandwiched between the beach and the pool, and covered partially by a canopy of palm trees, to find the people moving in in droves. Eager to get the “fun” going. You had already lost your father to the crowd, and even better it seemed like he’d be gone a while before he’d be inflicting his presence on you once again.

Sophie emerged from the mob, looking dramatically desperate. She grabbed your arm. “I can’t do this sober”. She was serious as a heart attack, and so were you. Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose you met her gaze. “You and me both”

Browsing the spread was a workout of its own. The thing seemed to run for miles, and the task was only made harder thanks to the many people who stopped you on the way. “The ambassador's daughter right?!” What more could you do besides smile awkwardly and say hello. The whole world seemed to know your entire life story– where you were studying, your major, the fact that you’d spent the first week of summer with your mother. You knew your father liked to run his mouth, but the fact that you were, in any way, a point of conversation, was at the very least jarring.

After nearly twenty minutes of perusing you finally made it to the bar, and were utterly grateful for the handsome bartender who fixed your drinks in a giffy. All that was left to do was huddle in the corner and get day-drunk till the entire ordeal was over.

“Well, well well, what a surprise” Turning around from the onyx countertop, you came face to face with a firm, broad chest. You tilted your chin to find Maria’s dad smiling down at you. He reached for her, then mused the hair in a few rugged motions. She grumbled, but fell into his side anyway.

You liked Mr Carillo, he was really nice, always personable, and it looked like him and Maria had a great relationship. The man always looked out for her, made jokes with her, and didn’t take himself too seriously. He was a good dad.

“Nice to see you again Mr. Carillo.” You extended him your first genuine smile in what felt like hours. “So lovely to see you, I was wondering why Maria was so excited to tag along.” The colonel’s booming voice caught the attention of his two companions, who’s heads turned in your direction.

“That is absolutely false, I would never.” Maria looked at her dad as if to politely ask him to shut up, but as always her bright smile betrayed her. The two laughed, then turned to you once again.

As if he’d just realized something, Mr. Carillo spoke up frantically. “Oh, my apologies” he shook his head, chiding himself for his lack of introduction, and gestured to the two men sitting beside him. You didn’t need any introductions if you were being honest. After being subjected to your dads twenty four hour complaining you basically knew the whole embassy, could even recognize them from their little quirks or habits.

You certainly didn’t need an introduction for the dark head of hair that refused to look you in the eyes. “Steve Murphy.” Mr. Carillo grabbed the blonde– the one whose face you couldn't quite catch a glimpse of earlier, by the shoulder.

If you weren't so taken up by his partner, Murphy’s good looks would have swayed you just the same. But Steve was far too decent to undress you with his eyes from across the room, he was far too level headed to get on your father’s nerves. An unfortunate, or rather fortunate side effect of his unbearably favorable reputation was that he was completely and utterly uninteresting.

At least to you, brothel stories were far more entertaining than those of the duck hunting variety. And of course, news of hillbilly Steve’s shooting skills had reached the ambassadors desk. You wondered how Javier didn’t consider Murphy and your father’s trip to the lake treason.

He extended his hand towards you, and you shook it. Deep blue eyes affable and relaxed. Then again almost anyone looked relaxed in comparison to your father. His smile was so annoyingly friendly you thought you might just explode. “Nice to meet you” You noticed the wedding band twinkling on his ring finger. Cute.

Mr. Carillo nodded in his partner’s direction. “Javier Peña” His presence was a lot less larger than life up close. If you were being honest he looked quite flustered, nervous even. It crossed your mind that who exactly you were was only just beginning to dawn on him. All the machismo seemed to have faded at the realization that death would be better than indulging whatever little fantasy he had brewing in his head.

If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was fuck his asshole boss’s daughter.

“The infamous Javier Peña.” Raising his drink to his lips, he formed a tight smile. “That’s me.” He let out a deep exhale through his nose, followed by another shakey smile, barely concealing his apparent desire to escape the entire situation.

“So you’re the one stealing my dad away.” The nice man that he was, Murphy had already indulged Papa Carillo and hija Carillo in a conversation about college. “nice to finally see you in person.” Javier wasn’t an idiot, anyone who could pick up on your tone would have understood in a moment you’d caught their prying eyes. He sighed, then chuckled, as if to acknowledge your teasing.

“Javi’s famous at home?” You seemed to have caught the blonde’s attention. You rolled your eyes, then fixed them on the agent in front of you. “You’d think they were married.” The group broke out into laughter, Javier excluded of course, who looked rather embarrassed at the prospect. It felt like only the two of you knew you weren't really joking.

“Not sitting at the ambassador’s table?” Javier seemed genuinely curious, like you had gone out of your way to silently torment him for his little private moment. “I couldn’t do that to myself” Yet again, there was laughter, and yet again it felt like a little inside joke between just you and Agent Peña.

Carillo and Murphy quickly became interested in something Maria had to say, and you took the opportunity to make Javier aware you weren’t in fact an completely oblivious idiot. “Hoping to see you around Agent Peña, and not just from afar this time.” He smiled, and raised his glass for a toast, rolling his eyes and finishing the last of his whiskey.

What kind of a psychopath drank whiskey at 2:00pm

It wasn’t long before you migrated to the far end of the restaurant. Thanks to the time they spent in Cali you were sure almost everyone had forgotten just how tremendously obnoxious your father was. Well, almost everyone. Poor agent Peña took every opportunity to escape working in Bogota, and still ended up trapped in a room with a hundred other people, being subjected to his presence.

You popped a cherry into your mouth, reaching for your third drink in a span of two hours, and forced your eyes away from the back of his head. Anything that could help you disassociate from your dads co co-workers' excruciating presence was worth a shot. Maria squeezed onto the table you and your friends were crowded on– all unwilling to go within meters of the shit show inside. She placed two margaritas on the table for Sophie and Sandra, the cultural attaché’s daughters, and then took a sip of her own. Looked like everyone was on the same page.

Bothersome clapping brought you back to reality, and you gazed up to find your dad moseying his way to the little stage at the center of the restaurant to grab the mic out of Noonan’s grasp. He fixed the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, then tossed his shades into its front pocket.

The man was preparing. Great.

Javier hung his head, then rubbed his temple. Presumably realizing that Noonan’s was far from the only speech he’d be enduring that afternoon. You watched as he slithered out of his table, presumably to the bar to drown in another glass of whiskey. If he thought this was bad, you wondered what he’d do if he met your mother.

Grabbing your lighter from the table you scooted out of your little corner in the far end of the restaurant. Hoping to make your escape before your dad began his toast, or worse noticed your presence. You squeezed past Sandra, whose forehead was plastered to the table, and shimmied out through the side staircase leading to the beach, careful to stay out of view of the stage.

You’d take anyone’s eyes following you besides your fathers.

—

She says, "You don't want to be like me"

Don't wanna see all the things I've seen

I'm dying, I'm dying"

The chipped wooden railing crackled softly under the weight of your leaning elbows, not dissimilar to the click of your lighter, to which you brought your cigarette.

It was difficult to believe you were already two weeks into the summer. The realization hit you that morning as you checked your ticket, and noticed how you didn't even know what day it was. Time had passed by rather quickly, to your dismay, and the feeling that your little vacation was slipping through your fingers had been haunting you ever since.

You wondered if this senior citizen's getaway you had decided to accompany your father on was really worth your time and energy. Sure, on the surface it was nice to see some of your friends again, and you’d be lying if you said you weren't excited for a free vacation, but you couldn’t shake the bitter taste the whole ordeal had left on your tongue.

The warm beach breeze kissed your skin, the smell of sea salt and the squawking of the seagulls lulling you into daze. Your father’s speech drowned out in the distance, and your mind drifted to the way Javier had so shamelessly checked you out in the hotel lobby.

Effecting you was one thing. Surely you were no stranger to catching people's attention, but it was the absolute boldness of the gesture that struck you. He let his eyes linger on your bare legs, let them rake slowly up your frame as if he were documenting the memory for later use. Right there, two feet away from your father.

It only made you want him more.

Agent Peña’s shameless gawking was enough to fan the little flames of desire already set ablaze in your system– since the moment you noticed him leaning against the concierge’s desk. But it was the precariousness of the situation that really excited you. As suave as he may seem, Peña was quite an easy read. You didn’t need to be a psychoanalyst to understand the man wasn’t one to say no to a little chaos, a little adrenaline rush, dare say a little fun. You also didn't need to be a psychoanalyst to notice the fact that he was clearly working against every bone in his body not to yield to his desires– for the sake of his peace of mind, and professionalism

You could imagine it already, the satisfaction of driving him just a little bit crazy– starting him off on something you knew he’d be compelled to finish. Something that if your father were to find, would drive him absolutely insane. After all you’d endured all these years, who was he to deny you a little fun? That too just to preserve his status and ego.

“Your dad know you’re sneaking off for a smoke in the middle of his toast?” Startled, you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, speak of the devil. You came face to face with Agent Peña leaning against the railing beside you. He crushed the butt of his cigarette against the wood. It was then you realized he had clearly been out far longer than you had.

“I don't know agent Peña, does your boss know you’re sneaking out in the middle of his toast?” You leaned towards him as you spoke, catching the faint scent of alcohol, cologne and now nicotine off his shirt, and watched his lips lift into a subtle smirk concealed lightly by thin gray smoke.

He raised his brow, and without waiting for you to offer, swifty took your cigarette from between your fingers– he took a puff. “So that's how it is..” his fingers brushed your skin when he handed the cigarette back to you, and you matched his expression as you took it between your index and thumb.

“I wont tell if you won’t” It was quite impressive how he managed to sneak up beside you, without catching your attention in the slightest. Not to mention you weren’t exactly sure how long he’d been creeping on you before he decided to do it anyway. If he looked at his informants with even half the charm he was flaunting with you, you’d have a lot of faith in his success rates. Who knew, maybe he was better at his job than your father liked to believe?

“The ambassador’s daughter huh?” It came out more strained than anything. Talk about an easy read– the man could barely curtail his disappointment. He looked at you once again. “Couldn’t tell.”

Cocking your head to the side you narrowed your eyes at him- expecting some stupid explanation. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Expected you to be younger ‘f ‘m being honest.” He used the edge of the railing like an ashtray. “Really? How young.” You knew he was teasing, but you were also somewhat curious. What did he think your father’s daughter would be like?

He shrugged. “Four, five.” Then just barely managed to conceal his laughter. He was handsome, charming, strong headed and his career goals consisted of more than kissing his superiors asses. Of course your father hated him.

“At his age, please. If you're looking for a promotion, I'm not helping.” Scoffing, you watched as his eyes shifted to the beach. As he had done in the lobby you took your time to take in his profile– the way the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his sunglasses teasingly tugging them further down.

He broke the silence. “So, What brings you on the retirement trip”

“I like a change of environment once in a while.” You shrugged, surprised by what seemed to you like genuine curiosity.

“What environment? The antique show?” He half rolled his eyes, then just barely motioned his head towards the restaurant. You sighed as you looked on, making out only the top of your dads head turning left to right, then another burst of artificial laughter. You turned back to face him, eyes raking over his frame.

“‘Was thinkin’ more vintage.” Javier laughed, almost impressed with how forward you were, leaning further forward across the railing, with his yale blue shirt stretched to the seams across his back, hugging his biceps and folding right above his elbow. “S’ that so?”

“And what's your deal? Just like pissing off the establishment?” his eyes dropped to your lips as he watched you take a puff. “Doesn't take much to do that now, does it babydoll?” The pet name had your breath hitching in your throat, you knew you were treading rocky waters.

“And how would I know that, Agent Peña” it felt like his brown eyes could look right through your body and to your soul, deep and twinkling– with what exactly you weren't sure at that moment. He chuckled to himself. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but what fun was just admitting it when you could involve him in your shenanigans.

Momentarily your eyes shifted to the cigarette. His eyes were trained on the smoke gently slipping past your lips as you inspected it. You twirled it between your fingers, and then turned your head to face him once again. “Just a hunch.” If he planned to keep you away he was doing a terrible job. Every moment spent with you was another foot underground.

Unfortunately for him, his attention was quickly diverted once again when he noticed you bring the cigarette to his mouth. Aware of what you were trying to do he parted his lips, letting you place it between them. You watched intently as he took a puff, still holding it in place without flinching. Gently, you brought it back to your mouth, but not before thumbing his bottom lip discreetly.

He exhaled the smoke. “See what I mean?” His jaw ticked, face tense but eyes turning impossibly darker. You almost felt a little bad for torturing and teasing him the way you were– knowing full well he couldn’t act on his desires. The man had little self control, and despite that he knew exactly what he was getting into when he sneaked up behind you. His compulsion was sweet.

You stepped closer, rising to your tiptoes to have your lips ghost his. “Maybe I do.” As you had done moments ago this time he reached for the cigarette between your lips. The man was using every bit of self restraint he could muster to keep his hands away. The tension in his brows formed tiny creases in his forehead, and his eyes practically pleaded with you to put him out of his misery – because god knows he looked like he couldn’t do it himself.

“Darling?!” Your eyes widened for a split second, before your lips reverted to their smile– the ring of your dads voice from what was not too far away bursting Javier’s little bubble and sending a wave of sheer panic through his system. It was cute– like a child getting caught holding hands with their kindergarten crush at recess.

Among the employees you’d heard about, you certainly didn't expect to be endeared by Javier Peña of all people. Still mere inches away from his face, you tilted your head ever so slightly, placing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt his skin flush under your touch. The sound of muted laughter echoed from the restaurant once again, and you couldn’t help the feeling that it was mocking the man in front of you.

“See you at dinner Agent Peña!”

—

She says, "You don't want to get this way

Famous and dumb at an early age

Lying, I'm lying"

You had to bend your knees when you tried to catch up with your dad along the cobblestone pathway. Just to make sure you weren’t giving people a view as you ran in your all too short dress. Well, the wrong people that is. The ambassador had stood outside your door for a good twenty five minutes, willing you to come out while you tried on every possible outfit combination you had packed, all to catch the eyes of the one person he couldn’t stand.

It was quite enjoyable actually, hearing him plead with you to just throw something on and get moving as you sat inside– feet up on the vanity, perfecting your look, knowing just what the consequences would be.

You looked over yourself in the mirror time and time again. From the nail polish on your toes to the delicate earrings sparkling against your neck you spared nothing to ensure no detail of your appearance was left unaddressed.

An entire night of sitting and clapping at dull speeches, hearing each diplomat drone on about their achievements? Worst of all your father- who you were sure was going to take the opportunity of an open mic to give a lecture about hard work and dedication? Might as well make it an occasion.

With so much on your mind, who could blame you for forgetting to slip on your panties? A small lapse in your memory that was completely unmotivated, and to be honest, quite unfortunate, considering you were seated next to a certain Agent Javier Peña for the evening.

Throwing your oversized blazer on in a rush, you hoped it would do the job of making you look somewhat put together to everyone else at that shitty dinner. You were quite thankful when you realized you were not overdressed for the occasion, rather your short black dress came off far more ‘smart casual’ compared to the full length gowns, satin shawls and bow ties that roamed the hotel ballroom.

Tables were separated by mere feet, the room barely being able to accommodate the large crowd. Finding your seat seemed like a task, one that nearly everyone was struggling with. You knew you were seated with your dad at one of the smaller ones at the far end of the ballroom, but you didn't expect to be squeezing past entire embassy departments to get there.

It seemed like you’d been wandering for hours before you saw a face you recognised. You ducked under Javier’s deputy Neil, your head missing a jab from his elbow by inches as you attempted to scoot towards his boss– as always nursing a glass of alcohol in complete isolation, fingers massaging his temples.

And here you thought you weren’t looking forward to the event.

You walked up behind him. “I think you’re in my seat” You’d think he’d seen a ghost the way he seemed to be jumpscared by your presence. You felt the fabric of your dress brush the cut of your upper thigh– he was right to be afraid. He muttered a soft “christ” under his breath and swallowed thickly.

“Well, well, look who it is” The poor man sounded pained, just not pained enough to resist undressing you with his eyes as you walked around him and took a seat. It was like he was scared of you– of how good you looked in that little black dress, that slightly oversized blazer barely hiding you away from his prying eyes. Flattered, you let him enjoy the view for a moment, slipping your blazer off your shoulders far slower than necessary and letting it crumple behind you.

He watched the goosebumps erupt on your skin, thanks to the cool of the air conditioning.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, all dressed up” You batted your lashes at him, leaning closer. If you thought he looked good before, boy did he look delicious in his fitted navy blazer, white shirt, and red tie. The outfit was so devastatingly boring, but he made it work somehow. He let out a small laugh, more of an exhale through his nose.

Your fingers ran along the unnecessarily expensive silk table cloth, lipstick you had smudged on your fingertips earlier staining it ever so slightly, inching closer. “That's cute babydoll, ambassador's mandate” He didn't even need to try to sound condescending, it was practically an inherent part of his tone. You rolled your eyes, then pouted up at him, reaching for his hand that was gripping his glass of whiskey.

“Who cares what the ambassador has to say, anyway” He let you play with his fingers, but scoffed at your whiny words out of stubbornness nonetheless. “Oh yeah, surely that's not a problem for you, is it?!” He was so close you could make out the scent of alcohol already on his breath– fanning against your smiling lips. You dropped your hand to rest on his thigh. Even by your standards you were being quite bold, but the sight of him shivering at your touch was well worth it.

You could have indulged him in conversation for hours, but unfortunately for him, from the corner of your eye you spotted a familiar black dress shirt, punctuated by the tone of manufactured enthusiasm.

“Hi darling” You jumped from your seat, rather quickly, and presumably gave Javier a bigger shock than the one you had two minutes before. A shame he seemed too lost in your conversation to have noticed your father strut to his seat.

“Hi dad” Smiley as ever you leaned over the table just enough to kiss his cheek, and more than enough to give Javier a view that had him choking on his drink yet again. The hem of your dress tickled your upper thigh. You bit back a smile when heard him cough behind you.

Thank god for his dark blazer– you’d hate to have his whiskey stain his perfect outfit.

Your father gave him a curious, worried onceover as he scrambled to his feet. “Good evening Agent Peña, all okay?”

“Yes- yeah,– perfect ambassador-” Things were in fact not perfect– by his standards that is. You could tell by the storm that was clearly brewing under his professional facade. He let out a shaky breath, wiping his sweaty palms on the fabric of his dress pants while he watched your dad inspect the name placards. “Quite a table they put together huh?”

“Tell me about it” He breathed, and shot you a look that could kill. Having caught a glimpse of what was under your dress– or rather the lack thereof, you couldn’t blame him.

“Mr. Stechner! So nice to see you-” For the first time in his life Javier was happy to see Bill Stechner. He took the opportunity opened by your dad as he greeted him to give you a piece of his mind. “Are you tryna’ get me fucking killed?!” He did not sound happy, voice a seething whisper in your ear. You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Slipped my mind..” You were lucky the table was big, the arriving guests oblivious to your whispers. He took a final swig of his drink, glass now empty and glistening with golden residue. It was nearly full when you first approached him.

“Bil, Brenda” Javier’s hatred for Bill was so well known even you were privy to it. The man did little to hide it anyway. The thought of poor old him juggling Stechner, Noonan, your father and now you only egged you on. He shook the man's hand, and you wondered if Bill felt the otherwise indifferent agent’s cold sweat.

He turned back to you. “Yeah? you managed a blazer but not your fucking panties?” You’d think Javier’d leave this kind of a shakedown for his interrogations, because by the way he was talking to you you’d think you’d committed some horrendous offense. When he put it the way he did, it sounded a lot more adventurous then you would have let yourself believe.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

He grabbed a fresh drink off a passing waiter’s tray– one that was definitely not meant for him. “Thank you.” Then again with how chaotic the past five minutes turned out to be you were sure he didn’t care.

“Wasn’t thinkin’ bout that” You pouted up at him, and he looked like he could almost cry from frustration. What a sight that would be for the embassy dinner. He exhaled heavily instead.

“Goddamn brat”��

That you were, and you were going to be until he finally caved.

The table took their seats, former ambassador Noonan and Milgroup head Owen joining the group. Thanks to the way the room was set up, those sitting opposite you and Javier were forced to turn their chairs towards the stage at its front so as to not crane their necks awkwardly during the speeches. They were quite enthused about the whole thing, but you wondered why, considering they wouldn’t be missing much by looking away anyways.

“Stuck with the old curmudgeons tonight huh?” Owen pointed to the rest of the table like he didn’t already have a foot in the grave. They laughed nonetheless. “Gonna be a long night.” Noonan turned away just in time to not notice Javier grip the bottom of your chair, and yank it closer. You looked up at him, as if to ask what the hell he was doing, but he paid you no mind. Until that moment you were feeling quite smug, even impressed with yourself. But you were stupid to think that Javier Peña, of all people, was going to let your misbehavior slide.

“Better get comfortable” To the ringing words from father dear the group clinked their glasses. Javier pat you on the back, casually letting his hand slither down and rest beside your leg on your chair. What the hell was he doing? It didn’t matter, your dad was already bringing up his successful raid in Cali.

“Congratulations Agent Peña, I wish I would’ve bought you a bottle of champagne or something. Completely slipped my mind” It of course did not slip your fathers mind, he’d brought up the raid on the way to the resort. There was just no way in hell he was conceding to that “fucker” especially after he’d ignored his instructions. Instructions that were very clear: do not go forward with that raid.

“Not at all, ambassador. All this- “ He gestured to the table “Is more than enough” what a fucking shill. You had to give it to him, the man knew how to kiss ass. Surely the establishment would notice, but hell what could they even do? His mockery was so subtle they couldn't even point it out.

“Gives us a reason to see the kids” Genuine as ever Owen raised his glass. Maybe you gave these freaks too much credit. Out of the blue you felt a warm hand sneak up your upper thigh, finding a home dangerously close to the hem of your dress. Yelping unintentionally you felt a chill run down your spine as Bill spoke.

“Of course! s’nice to see some fresh faces”

Rough fingers smoothed over your supple skin. “To the youngsters” Your father raised his glass, but you could barely think of anything else besides the desire that was polling in your belly. You shifted in your seat again, but Javier was quick to pinch you slightly as a warning. Something told you it was the least severe one he dished out.

The room suddenly felt a lot warmer than it did a few minutes ago. Javier brushed his thumb against your flesh, then squeezed. He gazed down for a moment, then smiled the first genuine smile you’d seen that evening. He raised his glass, and looked your father right in the eye.

“To your daughter, ambassador”

That sick fuck. You’d be lying if you said it didnt make your heart flutter, or your tummy twist with need. And you thought he was shameless before. You lifted your champagne glass to the toast, but clinking glasses was a whole lot more difficult considering Agent Peña had inched his way up and made himself comfortable on your inner thigh.

It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the warm tingle between your legs, the way Javier’s touch was leaving your skin uncomfortably tingly.

Feeling the heat rise up your neck and burn the shell of your ears you dropped your gaze from the rest of your companions, grateful when they turned their attention to the ceremony. The lights dimmed to signal the welcome speaker to the stage, and you just hoped, prayed they would stay exactly that way the entire evening.

You turned to the dirty old man beside you only half hoping what you were about to say would kick some sense into him. “Are you crazy?! What the fuck are you doing?” A few inches up and he’d be fingering you at the table-

your heart pounded in realization.

His hand slipped under the veil of your dress, his smile dripping with condescension as he leaned beside your ear– whisper hot and deep and heavy. “Wanted it so bad didn’t ya babydoll? Now you’re gonna take it, and you better stay fucking quiet.” His words went straight to your core. You wanted to respond, but what was there to say? Besides, Colleen had taken the stage already- there was no going back now.

You felt your pulse in your throat. As the crowd broke into applause his rough fingers slipped between your aching folds, immediately drenched with your slick. Still looking forward he raised his brows, biting back a smile at how wet you were for him. Few more minutes and you’d be sliding off the damn chair.

Instinctively, you shifted forward on your chair, willing him closer. You swallowed a whimper when he pinched your thigh– hard this time, and shot you a deadly look of warning. You’d flown too close to the sun, and now you were in no position to negotiate with him.

His fingers moved to draw gentle soft circles on your clit, eyes completely focused on Neils little end of year debrief. He worked agonizingly slow, rubbing you just enough to keep building that pool of desire burning in your belly.

You had to fight the extreme urge to grind against his hand, his feather light touches making you break into a cold sweat. Folding forward you rested your head against your hand, screwing your eyes shut in an effort to block out the buzz that had taken over your whole body.

Neil said something marginally funny, and your table broke into laughter– forcing a strained chuckle out of your throat. Javier kept going, no regard for the fact that you were shifting and squirming in your seat with need. You hoped it was convincing enough to draw attention away from your labored breaths.

His digits slipped further back, barely teasing your leaking entrance. You gasped, but quickly realized your faux pas, and covered it up with the most convincing cough you could muster. Noonan turned around– concerned as ever the poor woman, as did Bill and his wife Brenda.

“You alright?” you nodded, voice strained. “Sorry, allergies”. Javier the pervert that he was didn’t plan on easing up on you, just returned his attention to your aching clit. With the three of them looking directly at you. “I think I need some water”. You attempted to evade his hold and escape– hoping he’d get the message and finish what he started outside.

Your plans however, were immediately trampled upon, with the ever chivalrous Javier speaking up. “Oh you can have mine, wouldn’t want to miss the speech.” He pushed his glass of water towards you with two fingers, eyes finding yours, lips twitching into a smile.

It felt like hours, you had no clue what the hell was happening around you– so utterly focused on trying to curtail your moans. You’d finished your champagne a while ago, but were dizzy thanks to Javier's moving digits.

Fast for a moment, then slower, he rubbed your sopping cunt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Everytime you looked at him he made sure to ignore you, knowing full well that one glance under the thin cover off your table cloth and anyone would be privy to your debauchery.

As if things couldn't get any more scandalous, your dad turned towards him. He asked Javier a question, and the agent responded more enthusiastically than he ever had.

Unable to look at the man you kept your gaze fixed on your empty glass of champagne, burning with humiliation. Part of you, a bigger part than you’d like to admit, secretly seemed to enjoy the entire ordeal. After all he’d put you through you couldn’t help but tip your hat at Javier’s absolute nerve.

Just barely, he slipped a thick finger in your dripping hole, curling it ever so slightly as he continued to engage your father in conversation. The maniac that he was Javier looked the ambassador right in the eyes– like he wan’t finger fucking his only daughter under their dinner table.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck, the whole room looking disorderly. You were beginning to see double. As if not to provide you too much relief he slipped his finger out of your dripping cunt, teasing your inner thighs.

So close, you were so close, just on the brink of no return, but you couldn’t cum – for more reasons than one. It was all too much, and you were overheating, and you felt dizzy. You didn't realize your breathing had quickened, and so did his fingers. You heard someone call your name, but couldn’t make out who exactly it was.

Falling forward and into a fit of coughs you screwed your eyes shut. Zoning in and out of consciousness you attempted to focus on your father’s face as he called out for you. Javier’s hand had settled on your thigh once again, rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm you down.

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Catching your breath you swallowed thickly, watching as your dad prepared to get up from his seat. From the looks of it he must have thought you were dying. If you were in any condition to, you would have stopped him yourself. It would only make things worse than they already were.

Lucky for you a hand on his shoulder promptly intercepted him.

Javier leaned in his direction. Nodding towards the stage. “Your speech ambassador.” He looked towards you, sweaty and hot all thanks to him. “I'll handle it.” That bastard. He knew your dads vices just as well as you did– completely confident he could never abandon his chance at addressing the captive audience of his employees, no matter how important the interruption.

More swiftly than you’d like to admit he helped your shaky legs out of your chair. You haphazardly pulled and tugged at the hem of your dress, nervous it was doing little to cover you up.

“Thank you Agent Peña.” In the midst of your extreme desperation you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. What kind of man, father, let some stranger watch his daughter– who by the looks of it was pretty much on the verge of a heart attack? Sure, it would have foiled your secret little plan, but christ it would be nice if he could hold up the caring father act a little longer.

“Let's get you some air sweetheart” The fucker smiled so sweetly it made you want to deck him in the face, but boy were you itching to get outta that ballroom. He let you walk in front of him, putting himself between the dress that barely concealed your wet, swollen, bare pussy, and anyone else’s prying eyes.

Once you were out of eyeshot he practically dragged you outside, pushing you roughly against the back of the building. He caged you against the wall, ripping that pathetic excuse of a cover up right of where you were holding it against your body. “Oh babydoll, you still pretendin’ you need that shitty blazer”. It was only then you realized how cold the evening was.

“See that-” he held up his hand, fingers coating with your slick. “See what a desperate brat y’are” You were dripping for him, you could feel it on the insides of your thighs, you didn’t necessarily need a reminder.

Bringing his fingers to your mouth he ran them across your lips, the taste of your own arousal now heady on your tongue. “Jus’ for you.” Looking up at him through your lashes you slurred your words. Unintentionally sounding a lot more dumb and drunk than you intended.

“Oh really?” Unimpressed, he grabbed your face, and roughly tugged you towards him. “Don’t think so honey” Before you could think you were being spun to face the wall you had you back against moments ago. He was practically scolding you.

“not when you showed up in this flimsy lil dress, tits and ass out for the whole world to see.” The disgust was evident in his tone, but the both of you knew he had just as much part to play in this whole deal as you did. He pressed your face against it, one hand more than enough to hold you there while the other found the hem of your dress– fiddling with it. A cool breeze brushed your skin when he flipped it over.

“Look at that-” running two fingers against your folds, he admired the mess between your thighs. Your slick glistened against your skin obscenely in the moonlight, and if the way Javier chuckled behind you was any indication, he sure as hell seemed proud to be the one responsible for the mess.

You ached for him. Tension only building by the moment.

“So goddamn needy, ready to cum on my fingers in front of that damn whole room.” The flesh of your ass was left stinging in the wake of his hand that came down harshly against you. Sounding both exasperated and prideful you felt his breath tickle your ear as he spoke.

“Felt so good.” It came out broken and whimpery, and had him pressing against you with a chuckle. You felt him grind against your ass, hard and heavy. Desperate already, every moment left empty only made you more of a brat. Your hand snaked behind you and between your bodies to haphazardly tug at his belt, but he promptly grabbed your wrist, and twisted it till you yelped.

Chuckling beside your ear he slapped your ass yet again. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, babydoll?” Upper body pressed flush between his expansive chest and the wall you shivered. The warmth of Javier’s body was the only thing between you and the cold, cold night.

“dumb” smack “slut” smack.

You felt your cunt spasm around nothing, if he was looking to get back at you it was working. In an effort to catch a glimpse of him, you turned your cheek. “Need you so bad” your whole body was hot with desire, voice so full of want.

With a strong hold on your waist, he firmly squeezed before deftly flipping you towards him once again. Your back hit the wall and his hands flew to cup your cheeks. He brushed his thumbs over your cheek bones, mocking your pout with one of his own.

“Oh babydoll, I know.” murmuring, he trailed his knuckles along the valley between your breasts. Pinching the fabric of your neckline between his fingers he inspected it. His twinkling eyes met yours again. “I know, ‘s okay, babydoll.” God you loved hearing that name. The flimsy strap fell off your shoulder, and he took the opportunity to pull it down, revealing your bare chest to the chilly evening breeze.

You shuddered, feeling your nipples pebble under his soft touch. The view must really be something– especially with the way he sucked in a breath, reveling in it with a sigh. “Lucky you’re so fucking pretty”. You meweled when you felt him squeeze your breast in his palm, then bend down to kiss along your neck. His little backhanded compliments making you dizzy.

“Cuz’ you can’t fucking think straight” He dragged his lips to the base of your jaw.

“Been all over me the whole fuckin’ day” his teeth grazed your earlobe before he placed a kiss behind your ear. “Beggin’ for my attention?” his voice dropped three octaves, and despite all the shamelessness you’d shown, the heat rose to your cheeks. There was no doubt he felt it on your scorching skin.

“Wanted to make your pops mad huh?” Your dress bunched up over your hips as he lifted you, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He took the chance to slip his hands under it, trying to feel any part of you he could expose.

Your lips met his in a frantic kiss– raw from how you'd been biting them all night, letting him lick into your mouth. Somewhere along the way he’d undone his belt, and you felt his cock rest heavy against the inside of your thigh. “Gonna fuck all this brat outta ya’ jus’ like ya need babydoll.” The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable. He looked so handsome, skin illuminated by the moonlight, hair completely disheveled thanks to how you’d run your fingers through it.

His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you ever so slightly to ease you onto his cock. The growl that left his lips was nothing short of animalistic. Your mouth fell agape in a wordless cry at the stretch of him. Big and thick inside of you. The feeling of finally being full beginning to satisfy the burning desire that had been ablaze in your core for the past hour.

Javier didn’t waste time, hips slamming into yours quick and steady immediately. The drag of his cock against your wet walls had you throwing your head back, the two of you engulfed in a bubble of hot moans and breathy sighs.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get fucked against the wall like a hooker?” He forced your eyes to meet his, fingers gripping your chin roughly. He watched you intently, taking in every flutter of your eyes, tick in your jaw, bite of your lip. “Y- yes- god”

“Fuck, takin’ this cock so well.” Your back arched against the flat of the wall, tits bouncing with every thrust of his hips. The feeling was like no other– knowing he was staring down at your body– the sight of your clothes half off you, eyes clouded and barely open, lips parted.

You felt his cock twitch inside you.

One hand gripping your thigh, the other plastered to the wall beside your head he pounded into your aching cunt. His broad frame engulfed you in a little cocoon of your own, broad shoulders slumped forward.

You made out a muffled voice from inside– your dad going on about something along the lines of “his lovely daughter, who getting through the year would be impossible without.” If only he knew.

Seemed like Javier also took notice– a sarcastic chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Hear that baby girl? Think he knows what his ‘good girl’s doin’ out here” You shook your head vehemently, smiling at the thought your father was inside preaching the gospel while his daughter was getting railed by the one man he couldn't stand– like one of his back alley hookers. You moaned between your little laughs– constantly cut off by the feeling of his cock nudging that sweet spot inside you.

You took his bottom lip gently between your teeth, then released it before nipping at his jaw. “Fucking brat”. He groaned– low and breathy, smiling against your lips. “Think he knows his good girls gettin’ fucked by a guy twice her age?”

“Not his good girl” In the midst of your breathless whining, you tugged him closer, head shaking vehemently. The hand that had been beside your head came to cup your breast. He looked so proud it sent your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s right. ‘s cause you're my dumb slut aren’t you?” Approvingly, he brought his large hand to wrap around your neck, swallowing your moans in a kiss. You nodded your head frantically– it took a whole lot more effort with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, pinning your head against the wall, but you managed it.

“Think he can hear you begging for my cock, babydoll?” His nose brushed yours as he murmured suggestively against your slack lips. Probably feeling how your cunt squeezed around him he made the correct assessment that you were enjoying every little bit of this debauched encounter. “Little slut.” His hips slammed against yours, your back grazing the brick wall behind you as you bounced on his cock.

“Don’t care.” Even when he was fucking you like a back alley slut the prospect of making him feel good was enough to quell your conscience. Besides being able to spite your dad, you were thoroughly enjoying his attention, his praise, the way he liked calling you babydoll when he was making you cum on his cock.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight-” he nipped at your neck. “wouldn’t think it huh babydoll? Not with the way you’re whoring yourself around” His words disoriented you and you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer– deeper as you neared your release. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, each slam of his hips having his tip brush your sweet spot.

“Gonna cum” it came out a squeak as you flung your arms around his neck, raking your fingerings through his hair– tugging and pulling, just grappling at anything to cope with the heat between your legs. He rested his forehead against yours, forcing your gaze towards him. “Dirty little thing. Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you wanted it– come on.”

You fell forward, buried your face in the crook of his neck as you came undone, walls pulsing around him. “Fuckin hell, squeezing me so fucking good, babydoll.” Spaced out you rode out your high, body shivering with the aftershocks as he continued to fuck your sensitive pussy. He pinned your head against the wall with his hand around your throat once again, needing to see the sight of you.

The feeling of your cunt gushing around his cock had his hips stuttering against yours. You felt him throb inside you– he was so close. He screwed his eyes shut. “Where you want it babydoll?”

You weren't really sure what exactly came over you, but the words were leaving your mouth before you could even register them. “my face.” At first, he looked at you a little incredulously, but after he’d had a moment to register he seemed more than inclined to give you what you wanted. “Really are a whore aren't you?”

He quickly, but steadily let go of your thighs, and took a step back to make room for you infront of him.

You swiftly lowered yourself to your knees, taking his cock, wet with both his and your arousal, past your lips. “Fuckin’ where you belong” He grabbed the back of your head, thrusting into your warm, wet mouth. You felt the tip of him nudge the back of your throat. Tears stung the back of your eyes, then smudged your mascara and rolled down your cheeks in thick opalescent drops.

“Aint that right babydoll?” you hummed around him, attempting to take him as far back as you could. He didn’t spare you any sympathy, guiding you over his cock in harsh motions, and seemingly egged on by the way you choked and spluttered around him. Your hands flew to grip his thighs.

“S’ all it takes to shut ya up?” You whined around his length, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his hooded eyes. The gravely, sandy ground scraped against your bare knees, even more so when you shifted slightly closer to Javier. Little grains left their indents on your skin. You felt them bruise with each movement.

In the moment he eased his grip on the back of your head and you released him with a pop. You took him in your hand, stroking the length of him and suckling at the head, voice slightly hoarse from the friction.

“Please daddy, need it so bad” You whimpered, gazing up at him through wet lashes. He exhaled deeply, brows furrowed, and lips parted. You caught him completely off guard with that one, but judging by the look on his face you’d hit the jackpot.

He cursed under his breath. “Holy shit” Closing your eyes you fluttered your tongue against him, relishing his groans as he hit his release. You felt his cock pulse and throb in your hand, cum hitting your face in hot spurts as he rode out his high. Thrusting into your fist.

You swirled your tongue around the head, kissing his tip. When you opened your eyes you found him intently watching his spend trickle down your chin and down the valley between your breasts. Your tongue darted out to lick your swollen lips, and he visibly suppressed a groan at the action.

“Goddamn” You could barely make out what he said the way he was catching his breath. Sighing, he stroked your head affectionately, almost petting you. You dodged his hand, then stood back up on your feet, albeit wobbly, as he tucked himself back into his dress pants.

“There is no way in hell I'm going back inside that shit hole.” You said matter of factly and watched as he bent down to pick up your discarded blazer– now lightly dusted with white sand, and tried his best to brush it off.

“Like hell you aren’t. What am I supposed to tell your dad? That you're busy cleaning my cum off your cute face?” You don't think you could get tired of hearing him call you cute.

It was like he was trying to cover up for some horrendous crime he’d just committed– fixing his tie, running his fingers through his hair, smoothing his hand over his wrinkled button up. It was quite funny seeing him half panicked yet completely incapable of keeping himself away.

When you pulled him towards you his collar felt slightly damp in your hands where your fists had grabbed it. You tightened his tie, fixing the dimple in it. His nose barely touched yours. Unable to keep your eyes away from his lips, you brushed your thumb at their corner as you spoke. “Don't tell him that just yet. Wanna be there to see the look on his face when he figures it out.”

“Jesus Christ”

His eyes blackened yet again, and you could already see the little urge to press you right back against the wall for the second time. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb and index, letting his cum coat his fingers before he was pressing them into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his digits as you obediently sucked, looking up at him the way you had on your knees moments ago.

“Dirty little girl.” You couldn't tell if he was surprised or in disbelief, whatever the look was it suited him. He draped your blazer over your shoulders, discreetly scanning your surroundings for passersbys. “Now get the fuck outta here”

“‘Night night Agent Peña, see ya tomorrow..” You pressed your lips against his, letting him taste himself against them and swallow one last whimper when he grabbed your hips. The fabric of your dress crumpled and rode up your thighs impossibly as he squeezed your flesh. He lightly squeezed your ass once more for good measure.

Unsurprisingly you felt a lot of pride as you walked, rather limped, on the path towards your little villa. Even more so when you turned around to catch Javier, exhausted and distressed, leaning his forehead against the wall he’d just fucked you against.

The boys, the girls

They all like Carmen

She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes

She laughs like God

Her mind's like a diamond

Audiotune lies

She's still shining

Like lightning, whoa-whoa

White lightning

🍓 Part II

Gonna burn in hell for this one but it was worth it. I hope you lovelies enjoyed. Again this is part one of three so we’ll be getting more of these nasties don’t you worry. Please let me know what you think, your comments mean the world. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work you keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

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