#dj martini

[martiniluvr]

“jason todd is miserable and tortured and that’s just how it has to be” ok but have you considered this song is literally him if things had been different. have you ever thought of that.

[h0undeye]

hey so

. hi

i dont have a silly caption im dropping this and RUNNING

[candy-pants]

My favorite international Disney Channel ex-acts (2/?): Bruno Martini

Brazilian musician, songwriter, producer and DJ. Was a member of College 11, a Brazilian pop duo signed to Walt Disney Records, and starred in Que Talento! (2014-2016).

[greengoblinswifey]

Or Nah— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet nicholas at the club and he invites you back to his place where he fucks you on every surface. based on this request.

warnings— rough smut, grinding, voyeurism, fingering, choking, oral(m&f receiving), praise kink, lots of dirty talk, unprotected sex, ass slapping, hair pulling, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare.

word count— 4.8k

a/n— i really enjoyed writing this one🤭reblogs are appreciated <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The club was alive with energy as the bass of the music pulsed through your body, vibrating in your chest. You leaned against the bar, swirling your vodka martini in your hand, enjoying the tangy taste and the vibrant atmosphere. Your homegirls were off somewhere dancing, surrounded by guys, lost in their own world. But you? You were fine with being on your own, letting the music take over and just vibing.

Then, the intro to “Or Nah” started playing. You squealed, feeling the excitement rush through you. “This is my song!” you shouted, laughing, and within seconds, the entire crowd, including your friends, moved toward the dance floor. You took one last sip of your martini before strutting toward the crowd, hips swaying with the beat, your body flowing effortlessly to the rhythm of the song.

Your homegirls were hyping you up, shouting, “Yes, bitch!” as you danced, your hands running over your body, your skin glowing under the club lights. You felt unstoppable, confident in your own skin, the music making everything feel like it was just you, the beat, and the crowd.

Then, you felt it. A presence. A tall, muscular figure behind you. You didn’t need to look to know he was fine—his energy was undeniable. He leaned down toward your ear, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Can I dance with you, beautiful?”

A sly smile spreading across your face. “Of course,” you replied, your voice playful but full of confidence.

The mystery man placed his hands on your waist, his fingers warm against your skin, and you felt an immediate connection. His touch was firm but not aggressive, and as he pulled you closer, the two of you swayed in sync with the music. You could feel his body against yours, his chest broad and firm, his movements smooth as he mirrored your rhythm.

Your favorite part kicked in, “Do you like the way I flick my tongue or nah? (Or nah) You can ride my face until you're drippin' cum (Drippin' cum),” and you couldn’t help but get into it even more, your hips moving fluidly, grinding against him as he matched every shift. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, the contact sparking something between you that made your heart race.

“Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he whispered against your ear, his breath against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t suppress the small, breathy laugh that escaped your lips, feeling the tension build between you both.

You turned in his arms to face him, locking eyes, and he smirked. “Hey, I’m Nicholas,” he said, his smile playful yet sincere.

You raised an eyebrow, recognizing him instantly, but you kept your cool. “I’m Y/N and I know who you are,” you replied with a confident smirk, giving him an unamused but impressed look that made him laugh.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he said, his voice filled with admiration, and for a second, you saw a hint of something in his eyes—desire, maybe?

“Thanks,” you replied, your tone teasing, “I know.” You leaned in closer, just enough for him to hear, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You’re fine as hell.”

He chuckled, his cheeks slightly flushed, and for the first time, you saw him flustered. You pulled him closer, your bodies pressed against each other as you danced, the music setting the tone for the moment. As the next verse played, “You gon’ make me fall in love,” you could feel his hands sliding lower, his touch almost possessive, but still respectful, his fingertips skimming the curve of your waist and hips.

The music slowed a bit, snapping you both out of your trance. He gave you one last look, his lips curving into a smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a playful grin. “Only if you’re covering the tab for me and my girls.”

He laughed, nodding. “You got it.”

You moved with him toward the bar, his hand guiding you, and your homegirls flashing you a wink as you passed by. As he paid the tab, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him. His muscles were even more defined up close, his shirt hugging his broad shoulders, and the gleam of his Rolex catching the light made you realize this man wasn’t just good-looking, he was cashy, too. You caught him staring at you, his eyes roaming over your dark skin, glowing in the club’s lights, and the black liner around your lips that contrasted beautifully with your glossy lipgloss.

Nicholas’ voice pulled you from your thoughts. “I don’t usually pick women up at clubs,” he said, a little hesitant, “but you’ve caught my eye from the moment you walked in. You’re gorgeous.”

You felt your heart race at his words, but you kept your composure. “Thanks,” you replied, your eyes narrowing playfully, “I know.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you, his eyes dark with interest. Then, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to come back to my place with me?” he asked, his tone serious but laced with the kind of quiet confidence that sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gave him a slow, seductive look, letting your eyes linger on his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Sure,” you said, your voice low, sending a little shiver of excitement through him. He coughed lightly, clearly trying to hide the effect you were having on him.

You turned to your friends, who were already squealing. “I’m gonna leave with his fine ass,” you said, and they erupted into laughter, shouting playful encouragements. “Go get that dick, girl! Have fun, but call us if nothin’ happens!” one of them called out.

Nicholas placed his hand on your waist as he led you through the crowd. People parted for him as you both made your way outside, and when you reached the curb, a sleek black car with a driver waiting was parked. Nicholas opened the door for you, and you slipped into the back, the cool leather seat against your skin.

The moment you were inside, the air between you thickened. You both sat there for a moment, staring at each other, the tension almost unbearable. Then, without warning, you were on him, your lips crashing together as you kissed him passionately, the heat between you building with every second. His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips demanding as yours responded with equal hunger.

He moaned softly into your lips as you pulled yourself to straddle him, your mini skirt riding up as you sat on his bulge. There was nothing separating you but your g-string and his pants, you could feel how hard he was and how he twitched in excitement.

You could feel the warmth of his chest beneath you, the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your waist before shifting lower, resting just on the curve of your hips.

The car was moving through the city, the sound of the engine humming beneath the occasional soft moan that slipped from your lips. But neither of you cared that the driver was up front, minding his own business. The only thing that mattered was the way your bodies were responding to one another.

Nicholas leaned back, eyes locked on you as you shifted, grinding ever so slightly against him. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he pulled you in again, kissing you hungrily. “You’re fucking unreal,” he muttered against your lips, his hands running up your back, sending chills down your spine.

You could feel his heartbeat racing beneath his chest, and the way his body tensed when your hands traced down to his abdomen, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles through the fabric.

Nicholas paused, his hands gently cupping your face as he took a breath, his forehead resting against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky, unsure but wanting. The moment was everything, and you could feel how much he wanted you, but still, he you needed to be certain.

Without hesitation, you gave him a mischievous smile, “Yes,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss him once more.

He groaned into the kiss, a sound that sent a ripple of excitement through you. Slowly, his hands slid down to your waist, tugging at the hem of your denim mini skirt, pushing it up just slightly.

He looked at you, waiting, his voice softer this time. “Can I touch you?”

You locked eyes with him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you moved his hand to your waist. “Please do,” you murmured.

At your approval, he shifted your underwear and slowly rubbed your clit. “God, you’re so wet, how the fuck can someone be this wet?” he asked softly.

You chuckled, bucking your hips into his hand, “Guess I’m just really turned on by you and knowing someone else is aware of what you’re doing to me.”

In response, he slipped a finger inside you, curling it as another rubbed your clit. The pleasure hit you like a truck and you involuntarily let out a loud whimper.

But then, you heard a soft cough from the front seat—the driver had cleared his throat, perhaps more out of politeness than anything else. Nicholas chuckled lightly against your neck, his lips brushing your skin and rubbing your clit as you both laughed breathlessly at the situation.

“Just pay attention to me baby, feel how good my fingers make you feel,” he whispered.

You moaned in response, completely at his mercy as he finger fucked you while his driver drove you back to his place.

The car jolted slightly as it made a turn, the shift in motion causing a small sound to escape your lips. Nicholas' other hand moved around your neck, his touch deliberate as he slipped another finger inside your wet pussy, feeling the warmth inside you.

You were trying to keep your composure, but the way he touched you was like nothing else, and you could feel your body responding, your heart racing as his fingers moved faster.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a smirk on his lips. “You’re gonna cum already beautiful?” he whispered. “Are you that turned on I’m fingering you in the back of my car while my driver is in the front? Fuck, you’re everything I could ever want.”

You grinned back at him and nodded, feeling that sense of power, knowing how much he wanted you. He leaned forward, kissing you as his fingers worked inside you, the squelching noises your pussy made mixing with the sound of the engine.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking my fingers baby. Cum for me, be my good girl and cum all over my fingers,” he demanded, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Grabbing his biceps, you did your best to contain your moans but your efforts proved futile as you came all over his fingers, your body convulsing on top of him.

“Good girl, you made me so proud baby, so obedient,” he muttered, kissing your neck.

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them off and moaning around them. “Fuck, everything about you is perfect, even the way you taste.”

“And I wanna see if you taste as good as you look,” you smirked.

The car finally pulled up to Nicholas’ mansion, the gates creaking open as the vehicle glided through. You couldn’t help but admire the sprawling estate, the lights from the driveway glimmering against the night sky.

His driver opened the door for you, and you both exchanged an awkward smile. Nicholas fumbled with the keys to the mansion, clearly eager to get inside and you leaned over, brushing your lips against his neck, sending a shiver through him. His eyes darkened with desire as you made a teasing move, running your hand along the outline of his bulge, making him moan softly.

Once inside, he wasted no time, pushing you against the door with a heated kiss. His hands were everywhere, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. You returned the kiss with the same intensity, then pushed him back against the door.

Your warm hands glided down his chest before you slowly slid to your knees in front of him. His breath hitched as you looked up at him, eyes filled with lust. He froze for a moment, staring down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hushed, unsure but clearly wanting this as much as you did.

You nodded, not caring about the cold marble beneath you. All that mattered was the moment, the confidence that ran through your veins when you were close to him. You reached for his belt, loosening it with practiced ease, and slowly slid his pants down, revealing his hard cock.

He gasped, his gaze locked on you, as he stepped out of his pants. You could feel his eyes on you as your fingers brushed over him in all his glory, and his breath caught when you made contact. He was hard, long and full of girth, feeling weighty in your hand. The tip was pretty, pink and leaking, pre cum oozing and slowly dripping down his shaft. As you looked up at him through your lashes, you could tell by the look in his eyes how badly he wanted this, and that only made you want him more.

Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it so he could feel everything.

“Your hands are so soft,” he whispered, and you smirked up at him, feeling a thrill run through you.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, you closed the space between you, trailing your lips along the side of his cock, before meeting his eyes one more time. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he took, and you could tell he was trying to hold back from losing control.

“You look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Everything about you is perfect.”

As you took him into your mouth, each motion drew out quiet sounds from him. You took him deeper and deeper, swirling your tongue as you did and using your hands to rub his bare thighs then to caress his balls.

“Holy shit, you’re amazing,” he said, breathily.

His praises made your pussy throb and you started deep throating him, making sure to use as much tongue as you could to make it sloppy just the way you presumed he’d like it. You couldn’t have Nicholas Chavez saying you gave bad head.

“Oh fuck baby, if you keep taking me like that m’ gonna cum, you’re so good at this.”

You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he moaned in response, his head tipping back.

He gently placed a hand on your head and you took him back into your throat, bobbing your head as your salvia and his pre cum dripped down your chin. You were a sight for sore eyes and he was ready to see you swallow his cum.

“H-holy fucking shit baby, I’m gonna cum down that throat,” he moaned, his voice breaking.

You took him as deep as you could, then gliding your mouth and your tongue across his shaft as you felt his warm cum shoot down your throat. You swallowed every drop, his cum better than any martini you drank that night.

“You’re so fucking hot, let me eat your pussy on my kitchen counter,” he panted.

You were down for anything and you allowed him to take your hand, leading you to the large kitchen with a marble island in the middle. He lifted you up with ease, pulling down your clothes and then your top over your head. You took the opportunity to kick off your heels.

“Fucking stunning,” he whispered, kissing your abdomen.

He continued, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You’re soaked baby, so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on your pussy a stark contrast to your bare ass against the cool marble. You couldn’t believe he was letting you defile his beautiful kitchen like this.

“Your moans are so sweet baby, you like the way I flick my tongue?” he laughed and you chuckled as he quoted the lyrics from earlier.

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn’t believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared his neighbors would hear.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good,” you cried. grabbing his hair.

“Mm— I aim to please,” he muttered into your pussy.

His tongue was practically inside you, tonguing you and moving back up to suck on your clit. As his movements grew, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful, I need to swallow every drop.” A loud gasp left your lips and your body lifted from the surface, as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like you were his last meal—ironic considering you were in his kitchen and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum, holy fuck, you taste amazing,” he panted.

You pulled him up into a kiss, his face mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your full breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers tangled in his hair then he pulled back to rip off his shirt.

Nicholas’ body was everything you’d expect. As he took off his shirt, his broad shoulders and chest came into view, perfectly sculpted with a defined, chiseled look. His biceps bulged with each movement, showing the results of countless hours lifting. His abs were sharply outlined, a series of well-formed ridges that tapered down to his waist, making his physique look even more impressive. His skin glistened in the light, showcasing the muscles that seemed to flex with every breath he took. The veins running down his arms and across his chest hinted at the strength and power he held, adding to his overall imposing yet enticing presence. Everything about him was carved to perfection. You needed this man, and you needed him now. You needed him to take you on every surface in his house and you weren’t afraid to admit it.

“I need you to fuck me all over your house, starting right here, God, you are so hot,” you breathed in awe.

He grinned, he loved the sound of that and he loved a woman that knew what she wanted.

Swiftly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.

“Shit,” you moaned, as he took your breath away, “you’re so fucking big.”

“I know baby, it’s okay, I’ll go easy on you,” he whispered, reaching down to rub your clit to ease the tension.

“Easy on me? Nah, I want that dick fucking me hard,” you retorted.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re my dream woman,” he gasped.

Your wish was his command as he slammed into you, burying his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the kitchen as he began moving with a pace that had your toes curling and your acrylics digging into his muscular back.

“Oh my God, Nick,” you moaned.

“I know baby, I’m the one making you feel this good, no other man can be this deep inside you,” he murmured.

You nodded breathlessly, with the way he was pounding into you, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix and as you looked down, you saw the faint outline of his cock moving inside you. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.

“You feel fucking amazing, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted.

You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock and abdomen.

“That’s it, squirt all over me baby,” he smirked, still slapping himself against you.

He reached down, sucking and slurping as your pussy quivered under his touch.

All you could do was moan in response, this man was incredible. There was no way you would let another woman have him after tonight.

“Fuck me on your couch next,” you demanded, boldly.

He paused with a smirk on his face and for a minute, you thought he would reject the offer, not wanting to defile his very expensive white sofa sitting in his living room. The same one his family probably sat on when they came to visit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as he scooped you up by your ass, making you wrap your legs around him. He carried you effortlessly to the couch, flipping you into your stomach. His large hand came down on your ass and you squealed, taking it as a signal to arch your back.

“Exactly what I want baby, it’s like you were made for me, fuck,” he praised.

You truly believed he was made for you too.

He sank into you from behind, slapping your ass as he did.

“Oh my God,” he moaned, leaning down to kiss your back, “you should see how good you look fucking gripping my dick.”

His hips snapped against your ass, pounding you as you did your best to fuck him back.

“Oh? That’s what we’re doing? My girl’s fucking me back? Alright, I can work with that,” he panted, speeding up his pace.

Hearing him call you his girl made something awaken in you. You whimpered loudly and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Can I pull your hair, beautiful?” he asked, his pace not faltering.

“Mhmm,” you answered, lost in pleasure. Usually you’d never let a man pull your hair but Nicholas just had that effect on you.

He gripped your braids in the ponytail they were in, using it as an anchor to slam into you faster and harder. Soon, the scrunchie fell out and he scooped your braids in his hand, still pounding into you.

“Holy fuck, you’re clenching around me so tight, cum on my dick,” he moaned.

You buried your face into a cushion, crying out as you shuddered and squirted around him, your arousal dripping down to his beautiful white couch.

“Shit,” you panted, “sorry about your couch.”

“That’s the least princess,” he replied, “bedroom next?”

You nodded and lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his firm torso, your lips locking in a messy kiss as he stumbled with you to his bedroom upstairs. You were grinding on his cock and he could barely make it to his bedroom before he pushed you up against the top of the stairs, making your upper body hang over.

But you weren’t scared. You were in Nicholas’ strong arms, and whatever deep subconscious worry of falling over had disappeared as his cock slipped inside your dripping pussy. He began fucking into you, holding your body tight against him as you jolted over the stairs.

“Fucking hell, this is so hot,” he panted, leaning down to suck on your nipples.

“You fuck me so good,” you moaned.

He chuckled, his pace speeding up and soon, he recognized the unmistakable feeling of your walls clamping around him.

“You’ve cum so much for me tonight baby, give me another, c’mon you can do it,” he urged.

You were determined to give him anything he wanted and you leaned up, no longer hanging over the stairs, to wrap your arms around him as yet another orgasm ripped through you like a knife.

“Good girl, who’s my good girl?” he cooed.

“I am,” you answered, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

He finally took you up to his bedroom, your body trembling in his arms and his cock still deep inside you.

He sat with you on the bed, a wince escaping your lips as you were impaled on his cock.

“I know you’re tired baby, I’ve made you cum five fucking times,” he said, you couldn’t believe he’d made you cum that many times, you weren’t sure you had another left in you, “but I need you to do it one more time for me while I cum inside you.”

“T-too much,” you whined, your body overstimulated and exhausted from it all.

“C’mon baby, don’t you wanna be my good girl? I know you’ve got one more in you, ride my cock and make me proud,” he urged.

If it was one thing you wanted, it was to make Nicholas proud and you lifted your head from his neck, planting a kiss on his lips as a promise to fulfill his wishes.

He leaned against the headboard, bucking his hips as you began bouncing on his cock.

“There she is, ride your cock,” he moaned.

Hearing him refer to himself as yours had you feeling something you’d never felt before. In response, you lifted your hips higher, slamming yourself down on him so he could feel how deep he was inside you. He let out a breathy moan, clutching the sheets below as his eyes averted from your boobs bouncing to his dick disappearing inside your pussy.

“You’re a fucking vixen, so goddamn beautiful,” he moaned.

His praises only encouraged you further and you began grinding on him, giving your clit the friction it needed and making his cock feel all of your insides.

“You like how I ride your dick baby?” you asked, your pussy grinding on him just the way your ass did in the club earlier.

“I fucking love it beautiful, oh shit, keep doing that, I’m gonna cum inside you,” he murmured.

Ever so obedient, you ground yourself on his dick, groping your boobs and tipping your head back, giving him a show.

“I— I’m gonna— I’m gonna fucking cum baby!” he cried.

“Give me everything, cum inside me,” you moaned.

Your body shook on top of him as you creamed and he let out the sweetest moans you’d ever heard. He gripped onto you as though you were his anchor, ropes and ropes of his warm cum spurting deep inside you. If you thought his cock filled you up, his cum was the cherry on top, filling you to the brim like you were nothing but his breeding slut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, shivering under you, somehow still coming, “it’s so much, fuck.”

Your body finally gave out and you collapsed on top of him, exhausted and overstimulated, the slightest brush against your pussy making you wince. He finally pulled out and you squeezed your eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of his cum oozing out of you and pooling onto his sheets.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him and your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom. He ran a warm bath, sitting on a stool with you in his arms.

“Don’t fall asleep beautiful, I’m running you a bath. You must be exhausted,” he said, kissing your forehead, “you did amazing.”

Gently, he placed you in the bath then sat behind you, using a wash cloth to clean you up and then himself, peppering kissed as he did.

“You’re out of this world, so so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you, you’re so sweet,” you replied, feeling a tad bit shy under his praises.

As soon as you were finished, he dried himself off then did the same for you, wrapping you in a towel and carrying you to another room with clean sheets. He laid you gently on the bed and snuggled beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Everything about you is perfect, God, I want this everyday with you,” you heard him say as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[reilemon]

🍸⋆｡°✩ Passion Star Martini ✩⋆｡°🍸

♡︎ synopsis: Xavier can't help but feel a little jealous when he sees you having a good time on the dancefloor.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: drinking alcohol, some grinding on the dancefloor, semi-public sex (bathroom sex), hair pulling (just a little), Xavier being a tease (and possessive), also choking (barely tho)

♡︎ word count: 3k

♡︎ a/n: Is it dancefloor or dance floor? 🕴️

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

You exit the bathroom after freshening up. Tonight, one of your friends is celebrating her birthday at a nightclub and you are so glad you had time and energy to go out because you were having a blast. First of all, you’re with all of your friends, the DJ was playing good music (he also said that he’ll grant you and your friend a music wish, something that never happens) and the bartender made your favorite cocktail just right. Also, you know you look good because you’re wearing your new favorite mini dress and your hair and makeup are flawless. But most importantly, your boyfriend is here!

Xavier came to the club after you drank your first cocktail. He finished his mission later than expected, and on top of that, he also needed to shower and dress up. The two of you never spent an actual night out together, so you were hoping that he’ll show up. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, but there is something so exciting about enjoying some mindless fun with your partner while also looking cute. Hot, actually.

When you noticed him approaching your booth, your excitement fizzled out immediately because you noticed how tired he is. He didn’t let it show, but you spent enough time with him to know by just his walk that he is ready for bed.

He settled next to you after greeting you and your friends. He gave you a peck on the lips and then his eyes took in your whole figure “You look stunning.” You heard his voice good enough over the music.

You blushed and thanked him, wrapping your arms around his bicep. You’ve received so many compliments this evening, but his is the only one that mattered.

Now that you can got a better look at his face and his heavy eyelids, you couldn't help but feel guilty. “You really didn’t have to come if you’re so tired.”

He looked at you for a moment then shook his head. “I’m not. Let’s go get drinks.”

He was in fact tired. Poor guy started nodding off in the booth after getting drinks, so you tried to convince him to go home, but he was set on staying. Downing your second drink, you hit the dancefloor with your friends, letting your boyfriend continue sleeping resting his eyes in the booth.

You go back to your friends, just in time to hear the DJ playing the song you requested. You were hoping you’d be dancing with your boyfriend to it, so you glance at the booth, hoping he’s awake. Your eyes scan in the direction where he should be, but you only see some of your friends sitting there.

A gasp escapes your lips when a hand snakes around your waist from the opposite direction.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

To say that Xavier was exhausted was an understatement. Not only did he get held up at the mission longer, but he had to go to a nightclub as well. His usual routine after finishing work was – shower, eat either alone or with you and then fall asleep reading a book, preferably with you snuggled up in his arms. And he could’ve just rejected your invitation, but he knows that it’s good to break a routine once in a while. But more importantly, he got to spend more time with you like this and in a different setting.

But the darkness inside the nightclub mixed with the bass made him even more tired. And he felt so bad about it, because he saw how excited you were when he came.

And you look so breathtaking. You’re always beautiful but tonight you really went out of your way to look good, and he couldn’t help but stare at your body, how that dress fit you perfectly – and how it barely covered up anything.

His new mission was to stay awake.

But his eyes were betraying him and soon he had to convince you that he’s fine and that he’s just going to rest his eyes for a bit.

With his arms and legs crossed, he started dozing off, the thrumming of the bass weirdly lulling him to sleep.

But then he’d open his eyes, searching for you.

That’s how the beginning of the night went for him – resting his eyes for a moment, and then the next he’s watching you on the dancefloor, making sure that you’re okay.

You were more than okay.

Xavier was happy to see you having a good time, dancing and laughing with your friends. Then you started dancing with your male friend. Nothing inappropriate, but the sight of that man getting to touch you at all made his heart skip a beat. It’s fine, you give him no reason to worry. He doesn’t want to act all jealous and ruin the mood. He should just sit here for a little longer, recuperate some more and then he can join you.

But his mind doesn’t let him rest for long, so he looks for you again.

You wandered off with your friend to the DJ booth. What are you doing there? He can’t get a good look from where he’s sitting, so he stands up and moves through the crowd. He manages to find a good spot where you can’t notice him but he has a good enough view. The way you talk, smile, and even look at that man makes his heart race. And when he sees the way that man checks you out as you walk away is where he gets pissed off.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

He knew how friendly and flirty you get when you have alcohol in your system, and he can’t blame others for staring because you’re so irresistible.

You walk away from the DJ booth to the bathroom, so he uses that time to go to the bar and take a shot.

He’s wide awake now.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

You crane your neck and your eyes meet Xavier's - those deep blue eyes are definitely not sleepy anymore. The words get lost in your throat under his intense gaze, so you just smile and start dancing to your song. The hand around your waist goes to the middle of your belly to press you against against him, still leaving some space for you to move, while the other one rests on your hip. You act coy as your butt grazes his crotch as you sway and move to the rhythm. You can feel his body move perfectly to the beat, and you can't help but look over your shoulder to see him dance, his hips and shoulders moving in just the right ways while his full attention is on you, which makes him so much more attractive.

The song changes to a slower one so he spins you around, pressing you between your shoulder blades, bringing your chest flush against his. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his firm thigh sneak it's way between your legs and against your clothed sex. You’re met with a lustful gaze when you look at him to comment on the position he has you in. You're speechless once again as his hands start guiding your hips, making you slowly and subtly grind on his thigh.

And you give in.

The dance floor is packed - everybody’s just enjoying themselves, minding their business, lost in the music or drunken daze. The two of you managed to separate from your friends while dancing, and some of them went back to take a break in the booth. You felt like you were in a trance; the bass was pulsating through your body, Xavier’s hands on your hip and lower back, taking the lead and moving your hips in the rhythm of the songs, arousal pooling between your legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a searing kiss. His hand starts roaming - one holds you by the back of your neck while the other one teases it's way under the hem of your dress.

Lithe fingers tickle the soft skin of your inner thighs, making your pussy flutter and you pull back from the kiss, stopping the roaming hand by the wrist "We should go back to my friends."

Xavier exhales through his nose and rests his forehead against yours. "Are you sure?" You open your mouth to answer but the thigh between your legs moves up at a particular angle, catching the hood of your clit and eliciting an embarrassing yelp from your lips.

You hold onto his shoulders as he continues moving his his leg, and you have to gather all of your willpower to resist moving your hips to hump his thigh.

"Xavier, people are gonna see - " You pant, your voice barely reaching him over the music

"So? They should know you're mine." You hear his steely cool voice perfectly.

You frown in confusion as you observe his serious face "What are you - ?"

"Everyone got your attention tonight, what about me?"

You pull away from his embrace at the ridiculous comment, and you can see the instant regret on his face when you do so, with his puppy eyes widening and lips parting.

You barely hear him utter "excuse me" as he lets go of you and hurries off the dance floor.

You stare at his back for a moment, and then you start following him immediately or you'll lose him in the crowd. Squeezing through dancing bodies, you manage to spot your boyfriend's silver fluffy hair going towards the bathrooms. You take in a breath of relief as you stagger away from the stuffy dancefloor, just in time to see Xavier shut the door behind him. The fresh(er) air and brighter lights, also your runaway boyfriend, flush away most of the alcohol buzz you had. Now Xavier is to blame for how wobbly you are in your heels, and your tingling lips.

You knock on the door and call out to Xavier to let you in. A few seconds later, the doors open just enough for you to sneak inside, although there was no one around at the moment.

You step into the single stall bathroom. This one is a little different than the one you were in, with the pink lights and aqua blue lit up sink counter. You love how it actually smells nice and is clean (perks of spending money on a fancy nightclub).

You lock the door and then lean against it, Xavier right in front of you.

You cross your arms "So what was that?"

Xavier, still looking like a hurt puppy, lightly caresses your upper arms "I'm sorry, that was such a stupid comment. I shouldn't complain when I spent the whole night sleeping in the booth."

"But why did you say that everyone got my attention?"

He steps away from you and leans on the sink "I - " He exhales and shakes his head "Doesn't matter. Wanna go back to your friends? Next round's on me."

You push yourself off the door and step towards him "Did I do something? I though we were having a good time."

Xavier softly smiles and shakes his head, "You were wonderful." His fingers graze your cheek and he carefully places a light peck on your lips, worried you might reject him. His shoulders relax when you don't, and he presses a more deliberate kiss.

You uncross your arms, your hands holding his face. You chuckle against his lips "You're such a dummy."

He blushes at your words and laughs softly, his arms wrapping around your torso to pull you into a tight embrace, your head resting on his shoulder.

"And I'm sorry if I took it too far at the dancefloor." He murmurs.

You chuckle and look up at him, "You didn't."

With that, you peck him on the cheek and move to take a look at yourself in the mirror (it's cool that it lights up at a touch), bending over the sink, and Xavier takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, admiring you in the reflection. You smile at him in the mirror before turning the light off.

"We should go back." You tell him when he doesn't move.

And he still doesn't. He only hums in response and starts nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent, hands roaming from your waist, to hold your hips, gently swaying them this time how he pleases.

He whispers, "You look so irresistible," a whimper escapes your lips as he grounds his crotch against your butt, lifting your dress in the motion, "it felt so good to have you dance against me like that."

You hold onto the sink as you arch your back and close your eyes, the feeling of his hard clothed cock rubbing against you awakening your arousal again, the dress now almost completely hiked up. His lips latch onto your neck as they suck hungrily on the sensitive skin, and one hand starts fondling your breast.

"Xavier - " You pant "We have to - " you whisper weakly, the rest of the sentence evaporating from your mind as you feel him sneak a finger over your soaked panties.

"You're right," He coos as the fingertip finds your bud, slowly rubbing it, "We don't wanna keep them waiting."

You don't notice when his hand leaves your breast from how dazed the finger on your clit is making you feel. Then you hear the belt buckle clinking and unzipping, and you only half open your eyes, meeting Xavier's in the mirror.

"That's right bunny, keep your eyes on me" He whisper as he pulls your panties to the side, sliding his cock back and forth between your folds, getting soaked in your essence.

You whimper as the tip pushes through your entrance, the slight sting disappearing quickly as Xavier rubs soothing circles on your clit. His other hand finds your breasts again, impatiently pushing down the top of the dress along with your bra, your breasts spilling out, his fingers toying with your nipples.

Your head drops as he bottoms out and you bite your bottom lip to prevent a loud moan slipping past your lips. But the finger on your sensitive nub is ruthless, making you cream around his thick cock that's starting to piston in and out of your fluttering pussy. He then picks up your leg with his other hand and resting your knee on the sink, giving him a better view of your dripping entrance taking in his dick. You arch your back more, holding onto the sink, eyes squeezed shut, your lips timidly spilling out quiet mewls and whimpers as Xavier is now pounding into you, both hands holding onto your hips in a bruising grip. The squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping fills the bathroom and you're sure it can be heard from outside even over the music.

Then you feel one hand on your scalp, grabbing a fistful of your hair and gently tugging it, making you lift you head and look at him in the mirror and your pussy clenches at the sight of his hooded eyes laced with lust, knitted brows and parted lips.

He grunts "Eyes on me pretty girl." The hand on your hair moving to wrap around your throat, only lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. "Let me hear you."

You purse your lips and shake your head, or as much as you can move in his grip.

Suddenly he completely pulls out, and you whine as your needy hole clenches around nothing.

He chuckles and leans forwards, his breath fanning over your ear, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

"I guess we can go back to your friends then."

Your mouth falls open but nothing is coming out. You just gape at him for a few seconds shocked, but then you protest in a breathless voice "But what if someone hears us?"

"Let them." You jolt as he lines himself up again, "I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel." and a loud moan escapes your lips as he grabs your hip and buries himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust.

"Good girl."

Between his own grunts he praises you breathlessly

as he's thrusting vigorously, your butt bouncing with every thrust and smack of his pelvis, his hand leaving your throat to rub your clit again.

you're so beautiful

you're taking me so well

my good girl

The leg that you're standing on starts to shake as you feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your pussy spasming around his cock that's hitting all of your sweet spots.

"Eyes on me, bunny." Xavier rasps, his own release nearing, when he notices your eyes fluttering shut.

With a vice grip on the sink you come hard around his dick, your eyes barely open, and you almost tumble over as your leg gives out from the intensity of your orgasm, but Xavier's hands wrap around your torso to keep you from falling. He presses his own against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he ruts into you, riding out your high and chasing his own. Xavier buries his face in the crook of your neck, and pants mine, mine, mine before his mouth latches onto the soft skin. Your eyes roll back, head thrown back as he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, burying his throbbing dick inside your still fluttering cunt, and filling you up with his hot cum.

With languid thrusts, the last spurts of his seed come out, both of you catching your breaths and coming to your senses. Xavier sucks and licks the bruised skin and then places a soft kiss on your sweat covered temple.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" You turn your head over your shoulder and you meet those familiar soft eyes.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

With a relieved sigh, he gives your lips a tender kiss.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

Before you exit the bathroom, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, eyeing the angry red love bite.

You turn to Xavier who's unlocking the door, "This is gonna be really hard to hide."

He looks back to see what you're talking about. When you point at your neck, he sweetly says "Sorry about that."

He's not sorry at all.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ up until the very last ember of my heart extinguishes, i will be thinking of you.

dj!mel x best friend!fem!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you & mel have always been thick as thieves, and things have yet to change. but lately, you've been thinking of mel differently and, well—maybe you want more. cw: dj!mel, best friend!reader, female!reader, no age gap i fear, you guys are in your twenties, modern!au, resolved sexual tension, pining, friends to lovers, clubbing, not actually unrequited love, explicit sexual content, dom!mel, sub!reader, lowkey y'all are switches, wall sex, tender sex, vaginal fingering, edging, cunnilingius, oral sex (r!receiving), couch sex, mel is actually insane about you, obsession, possessive behavior, squirting, face riding, pet names, you guys are very soft for each other.

notes: i love her so much guys; i'm gonna be sick. hope you enjoy. this is really rough for my first time back in a while but it is what it is, hmm?

“you’re loyal to her. i’ve never gone a night without seeing you here.”

the words are screamed directly into your ear and you stumble a bit, already off kilter thanks to the lychee martinis you’ve been sipping since the beginning of the evening. the world is beautiful like this: slurred into soft strobes of turquoise, gold, green that caress the sweaty gleaming bodies of the people spinning within it. the set for tonight is still danceable but decidedly slower than usual, honing in on the loneliness and escapism other people may desire on valentine’s eve.

you blink blearily at the girl vibrating next to you. she shakes with a jitter you know belongs either to ketamine or cocaine—or perhaps both. ck-ing was a popular method of dressing up a club night in london. you stop swaying to the beat, body still as you focus on her completely. mel once told you that this was your pull—this ability to make whomever was in front of you feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to you.

“sorry, what?” you finally push out.

“mel,” the girl shouts again, gesturing to the stage way up front. “whenever she’s performing, you’re here!”

you glance up at the woman in question, face softening as you watch the way her body flows into her highly practiced routine of dance. tonight the movements are more minimal, courtesy of her dress—a masterpiece of fanned peacock feathers that catch and scatter light with every subtle movement. the feathers are arranged in a mesmerizing spiral from the jeweled clasp beneath her arm, each eye seeming to watch the crowd as she moves. it's shorter than her usual style, ending mid-thigh in a flutter of iridescent tips that make her look like some rare, exotic bird. every time the bass drops, the feathers tremble in response, creating a hypnotic dance of green-blue shadows across her skin.

it’s not typical for a dj-ing outfit, but mel has cemented herself as a rich girl with a talent. everyone knows who she is, who her mother is. they love that she comes down to their level during the weekends, covers herself in glitter and spins together a beat like some kind of opulent spider.

"yeah," you shout back, your voice still managing to sound tender. "she's my best friend."

the words feel both true and incomplete in your mouth - they always do. you've been "best friends" since you quite literally crashed into her at university, spilling your coffee all over her white hermès sweater. instead of the fury you'd expected, she'd laughed, dragged you shopping for a replacement, and somehow ended up buying you three sweaters instead.

that was mel all over: excessive, generous, impossible to refuse.

"lucky!" your momentary friend shouts back and your mouth dips into a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

lucky. right. lucky to be the one who holds her hair back after bad nights, who listens to her practice sets until dawn, who knows exactly how she likes her tea when she's stressed (earl grey, splash of oat milk, two sugars). lucky to be the one who gets to love her from this careful distance, never quite close enough to risk everything.

the girl disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the music again. mel's current track winds down, bleeding into something slower, more haunting. you recognize it immediately—it's one of her original pieces, the one she'd made you listen to first, cross-legged on her bedroom floor at 3 am, her face anxious and hopeful in the low light.

the memory makes your chest ache. up on stage, she's different from that vulnerable version of herself. her movements are precise and controlled, even in that impossible dress. you watch as she adjusts something on her deck, the feathers shifting across her back like ripples in dark water. when she reaches up to adjust her headphones, the dress catches the light in a way that makes your breath catch.

you're not the only one watching. the crowd around you is entranced, and you hear snippets of their whispered appreciation. the warmth of your tipsiness is starting to wear off. you’re suddenly so much more aware of yourself, of the differences between you and the luminescent girl on stage.

tonight you’ve chosen a simple black midi dress with a scoop neck that cups your chest gently. the tops of your breasts swell up softly at the mouth of the fabric, gleaming with a golden sheen that could only belong to your beloved diamond shimmer bath and body works mist. your hair has been longer by a copious number of extensions, the bundles pooling together at your lower back. tinsel is strung artfully in-between some strands, a careful layering courtesy of mel.

as you look around at the people around you, you feel boring and a bit underdressed. everyone is suddenly so much cooler than you and the thought brings a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the embarrassment strong in its resurgence. you shift in place as the song changes to something a bit more fast-paced. there’s a chorus of screams, shouts of pleasure, and the floor begins to shake as people flood it to dance. you smile tightly as someone slams into you rather harshly, their apology half-assed and unfocused.

you clutch the top of your mother’s vintage ysl clutch, the chain a bit rusted and the body bulging with a combination of your house keys, your lip combo, some shit from work you didn’t take out in time, and the normally slim body of your phone which as been made bigger by the chunky sides of your artisan bedazzled phone case. the multiple polaroids of you and mel in the back didn’t help the situation in any way, the glossy memories slightly distended by the rolled bills you’ve tucked back there for emergencies.

as you turn to navigate the sudden pit of people, the music lowers just enough so that mel’s soft steady voice bleeds through. the lights flash once, twice, a third time; the bulbs are hot and pink. you know what’s coming, but you still don’t turn around, though your mouth twitches in a smile.

"hey, london," mel croons and the crowd screams back at her, eager to greet the woman soundtracking what is probably just another tuesday evening. "i have a question before i finish up. i don't want to forget."

your heart stutters in your chest. she does this sometimes, turns you into an unwitting participant in her performances. you remember the first time she did it, six months ago, how your knees had gone weak at the way she'd claimed you so publicly, so casually. how dangerous it had felt, how thrilling.

"has anyone seen my girl?"

the crowd goes crazy and you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your smile, heat flooding your cheeks. you hate how easily she can undo you, how these little moments of possession—even if they're just part of her show—make your pulse race. your free hand unconsciously touches the delicate gold chain around your neck—her birthday gift from last year, a tiny hextech crystal pendant that she'd said "reminded her of home."

"i came in with her. you know her, right? gorgeous little thing in a short black dress. kind of looks like…"

you close your eyes, remembering how she'd fussed over you earlier tonight, her fingers gentle as she wove tinsel through your hair. 'perfect,' she'd murmured, her breath warm against your ear, and you'd had to suppress a shiver. now, surrounded by strangers who are about to echo what you've felt for years, the irony isn't lost on you.

she trails off, holds out her mic to a group of girls right below her who giggle out the finishing portion of her sentence.

“…the love of my life!” they sing, drawing out the ‘i’ for a long while.

mel’s laugh echoes through the speakers, the sound throaty and raw. on cue, the music begins: “please don’t be love of my life” by caitvi, (calvin harris mix). they were a rock band that accidentally stumbled into becoming the summer muses for every edm fiend in existence.

you clutch your empty martini glass with a renewed strength, fighting until you manage to clutch a hand on the bar. the bartender smiles at you, complimenting your perfume which you don’t even think is still on your skin. you say thank you anyway, laughing openly as they tease you about your fondness for lychee. you’ve always been this way, you want to say, always holding on to what you know in the hopes that it’ll eventually love you back.

instead, you look over your shoulder at mel’s far off silhouette. there’s a moment where she looks up, seems to look at you. you don’t know if she really sees you, given your distance and the disorienting nature of the club. you smile regardless, raise a hand to wave lightly. the chrome bow on your acrylics flashes meanly, signaling your position.

she looks way, smiles earnestly at the crowd, and you drop your hand. the moment is broken, like always. as you move to pull your refreshed martini by the stem, mel’s dj tag sounds: sounds of birds of paradise, interwoven into one another over a damagingly sad violin sample. it’s her way of letting the people know that this will be her last couple of songs for the evening.

the birds’ calls fade into the melancholy beginning of “healing” by gordo featuring drake. the opening notes reverberate through you and you press your lips together, body thrumming with the effect of being noticed. she had seen you. that was the only reason she was playing this song. it had been your favorite for the past month, and now here it was on blast at one of the most elite clubs in the city.

‘i want to see you dance to this,’ she’d told you one evening, her mouth trailing against your shoulder. you were twisted together in your bed, the blankets plush around you as the two of you shared her airpods. ‘i want to see you have fun, lose yourself.’

‘i can’t lose myself,’ you’d said back, mouth rising in a secretive smile.

mel had lifted your hand teasingly, bit it gently, and then interlinked her fingers with yours.

‘don’t worry. i’ll find you.’

you look back at her, find her leaning over her deck with a finger pressed pensively to her mouth. she quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the crowd, as if asking why you’re not inside of it. you smile despite it all and abandon your martini, wiggling through the gaps of people until you're up front.

the bass drops and the crowd surges forward, but you hold your ground, eyes locked on mel. she's watching you now, really watching you, her movements more deliberate as she works the deck. you recognize this version of the song; it's her own remix, the one she'd been perfecting for weeks in her home studio. she'd added layers of ethereal synths that make it feel like you're floating, like you're the only person in the room who really understands what she's trying to say.

she gestures to her security guard, a subtle movement that you've seen countless times before. within moments, strong hands are parting the crowd, creating a path to the booth. your heart pounds as you're ushered up the steps, into her domain of switches and lights and pulsing energy. the peacock feathers of her dress brush against your arm as she pulls you close, her free hand settling on your waist.

"dance with me," she murmurs into your ear, her voice carrying despite the thundering music. her fingers trace patterns on your hip, and you wonder if she can feel you trembling. "show them what this song was made for."

you let your body move with hers, falling into the rhythm she's created. the feathers of her dress catch the light with each movement, creating a private light show just for the two of you. she keeps one hand on the deck, maintaining the perfect flow of music, but her other hand never leaves your body, guiding you through the dance like she's afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

the crowd below is going wild, but you barely notice them. all you can focus on is the way mel's breath catches when you press closer, the way her fingers tighten on your waist when you roll your hips. the tinsel in your hair catches the light, mixing with the iridescent shimmer of her dress until you're both wrapped in a cocoon of glitter and sound.

"see?" she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "i told you i'd find you."

the words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head slightly, catching her gaze. there's something different in her eyes tonight, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. maybe it's the valentine's eve atmosphere, or maybe it's the way the lights are hitting her face, but for a moment, you let yourself believe that the look she's giving you means what you want it to mean.

she transitions into the next song seamlessly, but keeps you close, as if she's forgotten that this isn't how she usually ends her sets. as if she's forgotten that you're supposed to be just her best friend, watching from the crowd like always. as if, just for tonight, you could be something more.

the spell breaks when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the booth's chrome panels. you see yourself pressed against her, see the way you're looking at her: desperate, obvious, completely transparent. the music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, your skin too tight. you're acutely aware of every place her body touches yours, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.

"i need—" you start, but can't finish. mel's hand tightens on your waist for a fraction of a second before you pull away. you gesture vaguely toward the floor, not meeting her eyes. "sorry, i just—"

you don't wait for her response, practically stumbling down the booth steps. the crowd that had been watching your dance parts easily, perhaps sensing your urgency. you hear the next dj's tag start to play—some remix of a taylor swift song—which means mel's set is over. which means she might follow you. the thought makes you move faster.

you trip over your feet, your heel catching on the bone of your ankle as it lifts and you fall. your knees crack against the ground, but you regain your momentum. your neck is warm and you lift your hair with one hand as you spin, eventually locating the flickering neon sign denoting the bathroom.

the bathroom is mercifully empty when you burst in, all perfectly-cut marble and deep blue lighting that makes your reflection look expensive and almost admirably tragic. you press your palms against the cool counter, letting your head hang down as you try to steady your breathing. the bass from the club thrums through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat.

“you’re always so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, watching a tear splash onto the marble. you'd let yourself get carried away, let yourself pretend. but mel is mel. this is the girl who turns heads when she walks into rooms, who has fashion houses begging to dress her, who could have anyone she wants. and you're just… someone else.

her best friend, you suppose. the girl who’s responsible for holding her hair back when she's sick, who listens to her practice sets, who loves her so strongly that it feels akin to having a spear sunk through your chest.

the bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and you know it's her before she speaks. you can smell her perfume. it’s something custom-made in paris, a mix of lily, amber, and caramel. you don't look up.

"hey," mel says softly, and you hear the click of her heels on the marble floor as she approaches. "what happened up there?"

you close your eyes, trying to ignore how the marble feels like ice beneath your palms, how your body still burns where she touched you in the booth. "nothing happened, melly. i just needed some air."

you use your nickname for her as a way to disarm her, but mel has always been immovable when it came to getting something that she wants. the silence that follows feels incredibly long, but you know it hasn’t even been ten seconds. you lean forward, splash water on your face. blindly, you search for a paper towel but you’re handed a small hand towel instead. your makeup transfers onto the fabric, staining it with the traces of your exhaustion and loneliness.

"[name], look at me." her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when she knows you're lying. when you don't move, you hear her sigh, the sound followed by the soft rustle of feathers. then her hand is on your shoulder, turning you around.

she's closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the individual glitter particles scattered across her collarbones, catch the faint sheen of sweat at her temples from performing. the peacock dress seems alive in the bathroom's soft lighting, each feather shifting with her breath. you try to step back, but the counter prevents your retreat.

"you were crying," she observes, reaching up to brush her thumb beneath your eye. her touch lingers longer than necessary, and you hate how your body betrays you, leaning into her hand like a flower seeking sun. "why were you crying?"

"i wasn't," you lie, even as another tear escapes. "it's just the vodka. you know how i get."

"yeah," she says, and now both her hands are cupping your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are dark, intent, stripped of their usual playful gleam. "i know how you get when you're drunk, and this isn't it. this is something else."

you try to laugh but it comes out choked. "melly, please—"

"when you were up there with me," she interrupts, one hand sliding down to rest against your neck, her thumb pressed gently against your pulse point, "what were you thinking about?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with possibility. you can feel your heartbeat racing beneath her thumb, wonder if she can feel it too. the bathroom suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. somewhere outside, the music has changed to something slower, more intimate. the bass line crawls up through the floor and into your bones.

this is how love always finds you, corners you. it's a snake that's flat enough to slide underneath the door. you always watch it passively as it slides up your body, only crying out when it bites.

"i was thinking," you start, then stop, swallowing hard. her eyes track the movement of your throat. "i was thinking about how great you were tonight, how—how beautiful you are. ‘nd i was thinking about how some things can look real without being real. like stage lights. or club nights. or best friends who—"

you cut yourself off, but her grip on your neck tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. the feathers of her dress brush against your thighs, a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

"or best friends who what?" she prompts, her voice low, almost dangerous. she's close enough now that you can feel her breath against your lips, can smell the champagne she'd been sipping between sets.

the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the club surging in, and you both freeze. mel doesn't move away, doesn't drop her hands. instead, she leans closer, her lips brushing your ear.

"we're not done with this conversation," she murmurs, the words a promise that distills heat through your body. "come on."

she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the look in hers makes your knees weak. you open your mouth to respond, but—

the bathroom door swings shut again, leaving you both in that suspended moment. your "okay" comes out barely above a whisper, but she hears it. of course she hears it. she’s always heard you, even when you chose not to speak.

♤

the ride home is thick with unspoken words.

mel's driver, marcus, keeps his eyes professionally forward as you slide into the back of the bentley, the leather seats cool against your bare legs. mel follows, close enough that the feathers of her dress spill over onto your thigh. neither of you speak, but her pinky finger finds yours in the darkness between your bodies, hooking together like you used to do in university when one of you needed grounding.

london slides past the tinted windows in a blur of neon and shadow. you watch the reflections of passing streetlights play across mel's profile, catching the sharp edge of her jaw, the elegant line of her neck. she’s removed her performance jewelry, but missed a spot of glitter near her ear. without thinking, you reach up to brush it away.

she catches your wrist before you can retreat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point again. the car feels smaller in a matter of minutes, the air between you charged with electricity. she turns to fully face you, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she can slide your pointer finger into her mouth. the suck of her lips is gentle, tender. you watch her head bob as she slides down further, then pulls off.

she doesn't let go of your wrist for the rest of the ride.

when the car pulls up to her mayfair townhouse, you feel like you're moving through a dream. the click of her heels on the steps echoes in the quiet street. to you, they're like gunshots and you have the irrational thought of the neighbors coming out to complain, to tell you that your desire is choking them in the same way you feel now. your own steps are less sure, thanks to the martinis and the way your whole body seems to be humming with anticipation.

she fumbles with her keys briefly, something you've never seen her do, and then you're inside. the door closes behind you with a soft click that seems to echo in the darkness. neither of you move to turn on the lights. the moonlight filtering through her floor-to-ceiling windows is enough to see by, casting everything in shades of silver.

she looks unreal, like a figment of your imagination. you pinch the inside of your thigh, letting out a hiss of air from in-between your teeth. she moves closer, fingers the indentation where your nails had dug into the skin.

you shake, but she only steadies you.

"melly," you start, but she shakes her head, settling both hands on your waist.

gently, she maneuvers you until your back meets the wall. a hand lifts to settle at the base of your neck, her lithe fingers threading into your hair so that she can cup the back of your head. she’s making sure your head doesn’t hit the stone, sacrificing her own skin to ensure your comfort. the thought makes you warmer than before.

mel watches your face, her eyes almost erratic as she searches for whatever sign she needs. she comes flush against you and your legs part instinctively to make room for her, spread to accommodate the whole of her.

she lowers her head, mouth coming to burn against your neck as she presses a kiss there. you let out a small, weeping sound as if her lips have enabled a release inside of you. in a way they have. you soften, melt into her and find the strength to touch her.

your hands grasp at mel’s neck and she hums in satisfaction, working her teeth into the meat of your neck like a vampire. she pulls back only to look down, freeing a hand from your waist to inch the hem of your dress up.

you moan brokenly as you grow more exposed, your cunt wet against the baby blue lace that holds it. the moonlight sneaks between the both of you and renders the fabric practically translucent, the blue so light in its glow that it seems closer to white.

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” mel whispers and you blink at her, your throat tight. “you always say it about me, and i never understand it. when i look at our pictures, i don’t see anyone else.”

your eyes slip low, going tender, and you cup her face.

“you’re perfect, mel.”

“i guess we’re a good match,” she murmurs and then she’s in you.

the motion is so smooth, so quick. you hadn’t realized she’d peeled the fabric of your panties back, pushed them to the side. you know nothing now except for the steady pump of her fingers. there are two working deep into the heart of you, searching and spreading your slick heat.

you cry out, eyes wide like a doe’s. mel only smiles, predatory and slow. her teeth gleam, two rows of perfect pearls. you feel out of your body, but she brings you back in with every stroke inside of you. her breathing is becoming heavy, labored. her eyes seem a little wild and the hand on your neck moves briefly to squeeze tightly at your waist until you let out a deep “unh.”

mel grins again at the sound and it makes you surge forward, crushing her mouth into a bruising kiss. you bite at her bottom lip until she opens and lets you in, your tongue lapping all over as if to consume her. she slips a third finger inside of you, curling at the walls of your cunt to make you clench down.

you continue to kiss her, tilting your head so that angle is better. you slot together perfectly and she moans into your mouth, increasing the speed of her thrusts. you break away from her and study her face, taking in the way her lip gloss is smeared wickedly around her mouth. her lips are swollen and dark and she takes one in between her teeth as she works deeper into you.

your head falls back and she returns her hand to the nape of your neck, catching you before you can hit the wall.

“you’re okay, mama,” she murmurs and you nod, eyes focused somewhere distant on the ceiling.

she knows how you get, how disassociative you can become when you’re overwhelmed with emotion. she watches as you go somewhere she’s unable to follow. your chest heaves with every exhale and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your tits, then another right in the middle of them. her mouth is dusted with glitter when she pulls away.

you fuck down on her hand, an animalistic moan crawling from somewhere deep in your chest. mel fucks you harder, grunting as she shifts you bodily up and down with the effort. you keen as she uses her thumb to rub your clit, the circles tight and concentrated. pleasure arcs white and hot up your spine and you close your eyes, mouth falling open silently.

“that’s it,” she says. “come on, baby. come on.”

“mel,” you gasp and she laughs lowly.

“what happened to melly?” she teases and you whine, a foot kicking out as she presses against your g-spot.

“melly, please,” you whisper. “fuck, please.”

“please what?”

"just please.”

nothing changes. she only watches you squirm and beg like a whore, her face impassive. it was moments like these where you were reminded of her mother. the thought sends another shot of arousal to your cunt and it drools down mel’s wrist, sticky and warm.

“mel, fuck. fuck, i can feel it. i’m almost—i’m right there. just please, baby.” you’re crying now, disoriented and breaking apart with every push of her fingers. “please. please, melly, please."

you drag your eyes from the ceiling to her face, your pupils dilated and bright like stars. her face suffers through a range of emotion before she curses and yanks her fingers out of you.

“no,” you sob, and she sushes you.

“just hang on a minute, mama. hold on,” she soothes, her hands coming to lift you from beneath your thighs.

mel moves quickly and you take comfort in the fact that she needs this as much as you do.

you find yourself draped over the couch, your stomach resting on the arm of the chair. there’s a slight application of pressure as mel forces you into an arch, your ass and cunt pushed up. she nudges your legs apart and then gets on her knees, her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs as she leans in and puts her mouth on you.

“oh,” you moan and she hums into you.

she’s methodical and precise, her tongue slipping into the mix and filling you as best she can. her pace increases as she licks you front to back, twisting so she can suck and nip on your clit. you let out a high mewl as she grips the plush flesh of your ass, rocking you slowly until you’re able to continue the rhythm on your own.

the heat returns, spirals up from your stomach into your chest and throat. you whimper, letting your head fall forward and down. your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on riding her face, swiveling your hips in small circles to better grind your clit against her nose.

again you can feel it, that call to somewhere distant. mel feels the way you tighten around her tongue, the sudden stiffening of your thighs. she knows you’re just there, right at the golden gate of your private paradise so she removes her mouth and focuses completely on stimulating your clit with her fingers.

“mel,” you breathe. “melly—”

“i know, mama. you can do it. cum on my face. cum all over me, princess. mess me up, hmm?”

you reach down and she reaches up, instinctively understanding what you’re aching for. just as your fingers intertwine, you fall apart. your arch drops and mel hums, closing her eyes as you squirt over her. she can feel you trembling and she opens her mouth lazily, letting your cum drip into it as if it was some sort of sacred rain.

her fingers lace with yours properly now, no more tentative pinky holds. you grip back with the strength of a soldier at war, your eyes rolling shut as you hump against her face and ride out your high. mel only lets you use her, dragging her other hand down to grope at her throbbing pussy.

eventually, you settle and she tugs you down so that you’re sitting dazed and lax in her lap. her hands squeeze your ass as she noses at your cheek, slipping a light kiss onto your cheek.

"hey. hey, baby, look at me. are you with me?”

“ye—yeah,” you get out. “‘m with you.”

“let’s go upstairs," she says softly, and it's not quite a question. "unless—"

"yes," you interrupt, squeezing her hand. "yes."

mel makes no move to get up, however, and you watch her face.

“melly?”

"i need you to know," she says, a hand coming up to trace your jawline, "that whatever happens next… this isn't just because. this isn't just because we were dancing, or drinking, or—"

"i know," you whisper, even though you don't, not really. but you want to believe. god, how you want to believe.

mel shifts, tilts you so that you’re on your back. her braids have fallen from her signature bun, and they block out the little light spilling in from the window.

“baby, i want you. i love you, i need you, and i can’t—i can’t tell you enough how much i’ve wanted this. nothing matters to me more than you.”

“i know, melly. trust me, i understand.”

she shakes her head, opens her mouth. you lift a hand, dig your nails into the sides of her throat as you clutch at it for just one second.

“i understand.”

it feels like she’s been the only thing on your mind since the day you were born. you’ve been waiting for her ever since.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

[wolverigrl]

Party (1)

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: Sooo this part was written right after clubbing, and I may got carried away, which why I divided it into two parts. The next part should be online on Monday or Tuesday! So stay tuned! :)

Warnings: smut (not completely detailed), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), mentions of alcohol, some swearing, mentions of pregnancy

Not proofread!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's happening. I'm officially a year older today. Honestly, I don't even feel the change. Except for maybe the overwhelming sense of everything right now - the music, the laughter, the champagne that seems to be in my hand all the time - and him. Especially him. Hugh.

The night feels like a dream, but it's real - my birthday, my party. I rented this entire club for the occasion, and it's filled to the brim with friends, the people I care about, the ones who've been there through everything. Some are people I used to only see on screens, in magazines, but now they're real, they're here, and they're celebrating me. It's surreal.

The cast of The Greatest Showman showed up early, and I've barely had amoment to myself. Zac and Zendaya are dancing like they don't have a care in the world. Keala's by the bar, harmonizing with the DJ's set like only she can. Everywhere I turn, someone new is pulling me in for a hug, giving me a gift, toasting to me and wishing me all the best.

"Happy birthday, y/n!" Another friend comes up to me - one of the faces I vaguely recognize through the blur of champagne and flashing lights. They hand me a beautifully wrapped gift, and I accept it with a smile, although my mind is elsewhere. I'm grateful, of course, but the attention, the noise, the constant flow of people - it's overwhelming.

But my eyes always drift back to him. Hugh.

I catch a glimpse of him near the bar, his tall, broad frame leaning casually as he sips martini, talking to Ryan. The way the dim lights catch his features - sharp jawline, eyes that sparkle with a mischievous glint - it's like time slows down when I see him. My heart speeds up, a familiar heat spreading through me. It's not the alcohol. It's him.

I can't stop thinking about him, not tonight. There's something about the way he looks, how he moves in that perfectly tailored suit that drives me crazy. Maybe it's because I've had one too many glasses of champagne, or maybe it's just that he's Hugh and he's everything I want right now. I'm feeling it, that hormonal pull that still won't quit. It's like I'm on fire, and he's the only one who can put it out.

Our eyes meet across the room. A slow, easy smile spreads across his lips, and I feel a rush of heat flood through me. God, he's gorgeous. I feel myself gravitating toward him before I even realize what I'm doing weaving through the crowd.

"Enjoying your party, love?" His voice is low when I reach him, the deep itmbre sending shivers down my spine. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, and I inhale the familiar scent of him - something earthy, masculine, mixed with the faintest hint of martini.

"I would be enjoying it a lot more if you weren't all the way over here." I murmur, my fingers finding the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer.

Hugh laughs softly, his hand sliding around my waist with such ease it feels like second nature.

"Oh, I see. Is the birthday girl feeling a little. neglected?"

"Maybe." I tease, but the truth is, it's not just that. It's everything. I feel wound up, my body buzzing from the alcohol, the excitement, and from him. The way his hand rests so possessively on my waist. The way his eyes darken just a bit when I lean in closer and my chest brushing against his.

He's trying to play it cool, but I know him too well. He feels it too, this spark between us that's been burning hotter as the night goes on. And right now, I can't think of anything but us.

I press my body against his, my lips just grazing his ear as I whisper.

"You know, I've been thinking about you all night."

His grip tightens on my waist, his thumb brushing my hip in a way that makes me bite my lip.

"Oh is that so?" His voice is teasing, but there's an edge to it now, something darker and more primal.

"Mmhmm" I hum, letting my hands drift up his chest, feeling the firmness of his body beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. My fingers toy with his collar, brushing against his skin.

"I can't stop thinking about how good you look in this suit."

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound hat vibrates through my body.

"You're playing with fire, baby."

"Oh I like the burn." I grin.

For a moment, we're just standing here, locked in this invisible dance of tension and desire, the noise of he party fading into the background. My fingers slip into his hair, tugging lightly, and I can feel the way his breath catches in response. He doesn't move, just looks at me with that slow smoldering gaze that makes my knees feel weak.

"Y/n.." he murmurs, his voice a little rough now, like he's barely holding himself back. "We're at your birthday party. You do realize that?"

I grin, pressing my hips against him as I lean up to whisper in his ear, "And what do you wanna do about that?"

His hand grips my waist tighter pulling me even closer, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his breath against my lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?"

"Only for you, baby."

Before I can say anything else, the music changes, and I feel the beat thrum through my body, pulling me onto the dance floor. Hugh follows, his hands on my hips as we move together.

Dancing with him feels like the most natural thing in the world. Every sway of my hips, every turn, it's like our bodies are in sync, perfectly attuned to each other. I can feel the heat of his hands on my skin, even through the fabric of my dress, and it makes me ache for more.

I turn in his arms, pressing my back against his chest and grinding against him as the music pulses around us. His hands tighten on my hips pulling me back harder against him, and I can feel his breath on my neck, hot and heavy.

"Y/n.." he whispers in my ear, voice strained but playful.

"You're making it very hard to be a gentleman right now."

A wicked smile curves my lips. I glance over my shoulder, giving him a sultry look. "Who said I want you to be a gentleman?"

His eyes darken, the playful glint replaced by something more primal. He presses a kiss to my neck, just below my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms. I turn in his arms, facing him fully, and pull him into another kiss, this one deeper, more intense, oblivious to the crowd dancing around us

He groans softly into the kiss, his hands sliding down my sides and his fingers gripping my hips like he's trying to keep some semblance of control. But I can feel him losing it, just as much as I am. The way his body presses into mine, the heat between us - it's almost unbearable.

The music blurs into the background, and all I can think about is the feel of him behind me. His body moving with mine, the way his hands seem to leave trails of fire on my skin. I look up, our lips just inches apart.

"We should stop.." he murmurs though his grip on me doesn't loosen. If anything, he pulls me closer.

I tilt my head up, brushing my lips against his in the barest of touches, teasing.

"Do you really want to?"

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, his mouth crashes against mine, and I lose myself in the taste of him. My hands are in his hair, tugging him closer, and I can feel the way his body tenses against mine, like he's holding back everything he wants to do.

I know we're still in the middle of the dance floor, but I don't care. Right now, it's just him and me, lost in the heat of the moment. I deepen the kiss, letting my tongue slide against hus, and he groans into my mouth, pulling me even closer, if that's even possible.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally pull away from the dance floor. My head is spinning, but not only from the champagne. I grab his hand, pulling him toward the photobooth in the corner of the club.

"Come on, let's do something fun!" I say with a playful grin, tugging him inside.

He laughs, following me into the cramped space. The curtain closes pehind us, and I waste no time climbing onto his lap, my legs straddling his.

"Smile for the camera!" I say, sticking my tongue out at him just as the first flash goes off.

We make silly faces for the next few shots - sticking our tongues out crossing our eyes - but I can feel the tension building between us again. My body is still humming from the dancing, the closeness, the way his hands feel on my thighs, even through the fabric of my dress.

I lean in for the next shot, kissing his cheek, but it doesn't stop there. The kiss lingers, my lips trailing down to his jaw, his neck, and I can feel the way his breath hitches beneath me.

"Love.." he breathes, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping them tightly. "You're really trying to drive me crazy tonight, aren't you?"

smile against his skin, my lips brushing his ear as I whisper, "Maybe."

The camera flashes again, but we're not paying attention anymore. My mouth finds his, and the kiss quickly turns heated, desperate. His hands slide up my sides, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. I can feel him hard against me, and it only makes me want him more.

I grind against him, and he groans softly, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I know I'II have bruises tomorrow. But I don't care. All I care about is the feel of him beneath me, the way his mouth moves against mine and the way his hands are everywhere at once.

We're lost in each other, so caught in the heat of the moment that I barely register the curtain ripping open. It takes a second for reality to hit, but when it does, it's not subtle.

"Hey! No funny business in there!" a voice teases, giggling as it echoes in the small booth.

I freeze, still straddling Hugh, our lips inches apart, our breathing heavy. I look up and find Chris standing there with his brother Scott, both grinning like they've just caught us in the act - because, well, they pretty much have.

"Really, guys?" I groan, burying my face in Hugh's neck in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. Hugh chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath me, still catching his breath.

Chris gives me an exaggerated wink. "What? Thought we'd come join the party. The booth's big enough for four, right?"

"Get out of here, man!" Hugh says with a laugh, shaking his head, though he's still holding onto me like he has no intention of letting go. His hands remain firm on my waist and his body warm beneath mine. Scott leans against the doorway of the booth, grinning. "You know, we're happy for you two, but maybe save the PDA for after the birthday cake?"

I roll my eyes and slide off Hugh's lap, standing up and adjusting my dress, trying not to look too flustered.

"Fine, fine. The booth is yours!"

Hugh stands up behind me, smoothing down his suit and running a hand through his hair. He's got that mischievous glint in his eyes, though one that tells me this is far from over.

"Have fun!" he says, stepping out of the booth, his hand slipping into mine as we head back toward the party. I squeeze his fingers, unable to hide the grin on my face. But as we walk away, I feel the heat between us still simmering beneath the surface. It's like every brush of his hand against mine, every glance he gives me, is charged with electricity. I don't think either of us is done with what we started.

We slip into a quieter area of the club, tucked away from the noise of the party.

There's a small storage room just off the side of the main hallway, dimly lit, the perfect place to catch our breath and maybe finish what we started.

Inside the storage room, it's cramped and cluttered, a stark contrast to the opulent club just outside. The air smells faintly of cleaning products and dust. Shelves ine the walls, stacked with supplies - boxes, extra bottles of liquor, random equipment that looks untouched for months. There's a small, rickety table in the corner, just big enough for me to sit on, though it Iooks like it could collapse at any moment.

Hugh's hands are on me the second the door clicks shut. His lips find mine in a fierce, hungry kiss, and the world around us fades into a blur of heat and need. His fingers grip my tips, pulling me against him, and can feel the hardness of him through his pants, pressing insistently against me, The urgency between us is undeniable, like we've been holding back all night and can't wait another second.

He guides me backward, and stumble slightly as my back hits the edge of the small table, my breath catching. His mouth leaves a scorching trail along my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin where my shoulder meets my collarbone. I shiver, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"I need you." I whisper, my voice breathy and desperate.

His response is a low growl vibrating against my skin. "God, y/n.. I need you too. I've needed you all night."

With one swift motion, he lifts me onto the table, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. The table creaks beneath me, unsteady from our combined weight, but neither of us cares. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher, bunching it around my hips.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." he murmurs against my ear, his voice thick with desire. His nands grip my waist, and his lips brush my neck again, leaving a trail of heat wherever he touches.

"I've been thinking about you.. imagining this.. every second of tonight."

A soft moan escapes my lips as his fingers tease the edge of my panties, and I arch my back, pressing against him. "Hugh please.."

Hugh's mouth crashes back onto mine swallowing my words. He fumbles with his belt, the leather slipping through the loops with a soft hiss, and the sound alone makes my pulse race. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his hands shake slightly with need, and it drives me wild.

He pulls my panties to the side, and I gasp as his fingers slide against me, teasingly testing.

"Fuck. You're so wet." he whispers, his voice hoarse. His fingers dip inside me briefly, making me gasp.

"And all for me?"

"Only for you baby.." I manage to say parely able to form the words through the haze of desire.

I need you, Hugh. Now."

With a groan, he frees himself from his pants, and I feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against my thigh. His fingers dig into my hips as he positions himself at my entrance, and I bite my lip, already rembling with anticipation.

"Tell me what you want." he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "Say it."

"I want you." I breathe, my voice shaking with need.

"I want you to fuck me."

He pushes inside me slowly, inch by inch, and my head falls back as a moan escapes my lips. The sensation of him filling me is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches me and takes me.

"Fucking hell, y/n." he groans, his forehead pressed against mine as he bottoms out inside me.

"You feel...so fucking good."

The table creaks beneath us, swaying slightly from our movements, but I barely notice. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he begins to move slow at first, then harder, faster, until the rhythm of his thrusts matches the beat of the music still thudding through the walls. With every movement, I feel the tension building inside me, winding tighter and tighter until l'm on the verge of breaking. Hugh's hands roam my body, gripping my thighs my hips, sliding up to cup my breasts through my dress. His lips find mine again, his tongue tangling with mine as he thrusts into me with a desperation that mirrors my own.

"You make me feel so good.." I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Don't stop... please, don't stop.."

His hand slides down to grip my ass pulling me harder against him as he thrusts deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I love you, y/n." he groans, his voice rough with need. "I fucking love you."

"I love you, Hugh." I whisper, my body trembling as I hold onto him for dear life.

"I love you so much."

We're completely lost in each other now, the world around us disappearing as we move together and the table creaking loudly beneath us.

At one point, I hear something fall - a bottle or maybe a box knocked off one of the shelves - but neither of us cares. We're too far gone, too wrapped up in the heat of the moment to think about anything else.

His thrusts become more erratic, harder, faster, and I feel the tension inside me snap.

My climax crashes through me, sending waves of pleasure rippling through every nerve in my body. I cry out, my nails raking down his back as I hold on, riding the wave of ecstasy.

Hugh groans loudly as he follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he thrusts one last time, his release hot and deep inside me. We're both shaking, breathless, our bodies pressed so tightly together it's like we're one.

For at few moments, we - just stay like that, holding each other with our foreheads pressed together as we try to catch our breath. The room is silent now, save for the sound of our breathing, the faint thump of music still vibrating through the walls.

After a long moment, Hugh pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looks at me. He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.

"You're amazing." he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I smile, my heart still racing. "So are you."

He kisses me again, but this time slower and sweeter, like he's savoring the moment. Then, with a soft laugh he pulls back and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Here, love." he says with a grin, his back pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. It's such a gentlemanly gesture, one that makes me laugh softly. He helps me clean up, his touch careful and respectful, and I can't help but feel a rush of affection for him in that moment.

"Always prepared, huh?" I tease, running a hand through his tousled hair, which is still slightly damp with sweat from our heated encounter.

"I like to think so." he replies with a wink, adjusting his pants and redoing his belt.

He then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer while kissing softly my forehead.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft.

smile, my heart still pounding 'More than okay.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead before slowly puling away and helping me straighten out my dress. We both fumble with our clothes trying to make ourselves look at least somewhat presentable, but I can't stop myself from smoothing his shirt, adjusting his tie, and brushing a hand through his hair.

"You're fussing." He says with a lazy smile while his hands find my waist again. "They're going to know we've been up to something."

"I don't care!" I laugh softly, though I can feel my cheeks flushing. I tug on his shirt collar one last time, making sure everything is back in place.

Then, he looks at me with that familiar softness in his eyes, the intensity from earlier replaced with something deeper. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin, and for a moment, we just stand there in the dim light, staring at each other like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

"What if you were pregnant?"

...

- to be continued -

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Next part

[writersblockedx]

Wedded Under War: Chapter Three

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - The stress of the new mafia coming into town leads you and Yelena to let your hair down at a local bar. A few drinks in and you come up with the idea to visit Barnes.  Warnings - Mentions of violence, alcohol use, sexual implications  Words - 2.1K

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The information laid heavy on your heart. All of it seeming to consume you in that moment as you sat on one of Tony's leather sofas, sipping at a glass of bourbon. You should have known there was more to this than what they were telling you. When wasn't that your position they put you in?

The apartment was empty at this time. Steve and Natasha had returned to their own homes while Tony had taken Pepper to somewhere fancy. For a moment, you appreciated the silence until it made your thoughts too loud to ignore. The only thing that broke you out of such was the click of the front door opening. Instinct took over as you reached for your gun that laid over the glass coffee table.

You aimed it at the intruder, only to find Yelena Belova staring back at you with a laugh. Sighing, you placed the weapon back down and returned to your whisky. "I see the meeting with Barnes put you on edge." She observed, waltzing over towards the sofa as she threw herself down beside you.

"Tony's not here." You informed. Yelena only ever made an appearance when Tony needed some dirty work doing. She was good at her job, didn't ask questions, and got the job done every time. It was no surprise when you found out she was Natasha's sister; they shared their career motivation that was for sure.

Yelena shrugged and leaned further back into the pillows. "Guess I have the night off then." Her thick Russian accent hit your ears with a breath. A moment passed when you didn't say anything and the girl took it as an opportunity to take in your state. "I hear you found out, about the tracksuit mafia. Harsh way to get word that's for sure."

"Tony should have told me." You thought aloud. "So should have Steve," Your head turned to face the blonde at your next words, "And Natasha."

"Oh, don't start with me." Her hands threw up in defence, "I agree with you. But they like the idea of the little Stark being protected, safe from that side of things."

"I'm only a few years younger than Natasha!" You argued. "Hell, there's not much between us."

She could only shrug, "I'm not plagued with the Stark name."

You took another gulp of your drink until it was empty, "Lucky you." A huff fell from your lips as your back fell into the sofa so hard you thought it might swallow you hole. Your gaze fell to Yelena as an idea crossed your mind. "You wanna go out?"

She barely looked at you as she considered it, shrugged and said, "Sure."

So, with such a simple answer, the two of you threw on some different clothes and headed to one of the most bustling spots in the city. Roxy's was a bar in the midst of the downtown. The perfect spot, neutral ground, owned by an up-and-coming DJ rather than your brother or Barnes. Not to mention, the drinks were much cheaper.

You ordered a martini while Yelena stuck to the whisky. The two of you turned, facing the different crowd of drunken New Yorkers. Some groups conversing over booths, some others on the dance floor who were far too drunk for 10 pm and then the two of you leant against the front of the bar simply observing.

"Do you ever wish you had that?" You queried, staring over at the group of girls on the dance floor who seemed to not have a care in the world. Waltzing around in short dresses, letting their drinks sway in their hands as they danced alongside prying men. Something you would have been shunned for doing, told you knew better than to be so stupid and reckless.

"What?" Yelena laughed as she glanced between the girls and yourself. "Embarrassing myself in front of a couple of jocks? No, not really."

Your head tilted at Yelena. "Not at all? You don't wish you had maybe gone to college, had some fun? Rather than spending your life obeying orders from my brother? Holding a gun everywhere you go? Always looking over your shoulder?" 

Yelena practically sighed in her drink. "I've not had enough for this conversation."

"So you do?"

The girl thought for a moment, gazing back at what could have been. "I did the best with what I was given. This life," She gestured to where they were standing, and what they were drinking. "It's not so bad as what I've had in the past." You nodded at her words before feeling her shoulder nudge against your own. "Real question is, why didn't you? All that Stark money, surely it bought a one-way ticket to some Ivy League."

"You'd think so." You took another long sip from the alcohol. "Tony wanted me close. Maybe I was naive to think I could build a nice life while in the job."

"And now you don't think you'll have that life with Barnes." She realised.

You almost giggled at her words because the answer was so obvious. "Come on, it's Bucky Barnes we're talking about. What nice things can you say about him?"

"He does have a nice house." She offered.

"Yeah, I just have to live with him." The pros did not outweigh the cons that was for sure.

You watched as Yelena chugged the rest of her drink, sitting the empty glass firmly back on the bar stool. She spun back around, facing you as she extended her hand. "Come on then,"

With knitted brows, you asked, "What?"

"You want a taste of the college life, whatever bullshit you're yearning for, let's do it."

Your mind wanted to decline at first, but the careless expressions on the girls were all too enticing. You wanted that. Even if it was just for one night, you wanted to pretend there wasn't a worry taunting you. To forget of the marriage that awaited you, of the violent mafia which were on their way. It was calling you. So, without a second thought, you interlocked your fingers with Yelena as she pulled you onto the dance floor.

A chorus of cheers came from the group of girls who no longer danced alone. You painted a smile at your lips, attempting to not keep giving second glances to anyone you would normally label a risk. Instead, you kept your eyes on Yelena, sipping at your drink as the music blared through your ear drum. 

You gulped on your drink until it was empty. Yelena going to buy the next round. Before you knew it, you were four rounds deep and truly, you didn't have so much of a care for what might go wrong. It hadn't even crossed your mind the idea that someone might be about to pull a gun out. For the moment, it was nice. Until a tipsy idea slipped through your thoughts. Something Steve had said yesterday. You might not have a choice in marrying Barnes, but you might be able to control what you could get out of it.

Your swaying slowed in the realisation. And you suddenly had the urge to go confront the man at that very moment - despite the fact it was reaching midnight. "Yelena," You called.

The girl flicked her hair around as to face you, her expression moulded into one of concern when she took in your stance. "What is it?"

Your gaze drew from the floor, "I'm gonna go talk to Barnes."

"You're gonna what-?" You were already turning to leave until Yelena's hand caught your own, "Y/n, what the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm just talking to him." You assured.

She looked at you as if you had gone insane. "It's midnight." She pointed out.

But, to her shock, you had simply shrugged, "I know." You continued walking, only gazing back at the girl as you spoke, "Get home safe." You had no doubt she would. Yelena Bolvova had made it evident she knew how to take care of herself.

So you called over a taxi, slipping into the back as you gave him Barnes' address. You followed the same route, exiting the bustling nightlife of New York. In its replacement, you were left with the Barnes Manor. You left the taxi, practically throwing money at him as you headed towards the bodyguards at the door. "Can we help you?" Asked one of them.

"I'm here to see Barnes, tell him little Stark's here." You knew that name would be enough to open the door for you.

The bodyguard nodded to her co-worker before the front door opened for you. Waiting inside was Rumlow, a gun already in hand. "You didn't call ahead." He spoke, without any greeting or smile.

"I'm here to talk to him, to agree to all of this," You offered up as a response. "Peacefully."

Rumlow wasn't certain to trust you. For that, you didn't blame him. "You smell like booze." He observed first. "He's in his room-" That's all you needed to hear until you took off for the stairway. "I wouldn't!" Rumlow warned you as he stayed stuck in place in the foyer. 

You probably should have listened to what he had to say before exploring the second floor for Bucky's bedroom. It hadn't taken much deducing. There was one room with double doors; it had to be his. Only Bucky would be pretentious enough to have double doors leading to his bedroom. So, without any doubt or second thoughts, you pushed your way through into the room.

"What the fuck!" Came a screech.

You barely had time to understand what you had walked in on. A topless Bucky, an almost naked woman who had since jumped up from the bed, using Bucky's t-shirt to cover her bare skin. "Stark?" Bucky questioned as if he couldn't quite believe you would be here at this hour.

The unknown woman faced Bucky, "You know this bitch?" She snapped.

You weren't going to say anything until she called you a bitch. "Please, I'm his fiance."

That seemed to only add fuel to the fire. She threw on her clothes, staring daggers at the man who hadn't moved from his relaxed position on the bed. "Fiance? What the fuck, Buck! You didn't tell me that." He did nothing but shrug as she reached for her belongings, tears welling at her eyes. "Don't you ever call me again." She warned, shoving her way past you and out into the hallway where she made her escape.

Which left Bucky's eyes to trail over your body and the outfit you still hadn't changed out of since the club. You'd be a hypocrite to say anything, to pretend as if your eyes hadn't danced around his bare chest, cursing yourself for finding the sight attractive. This was Bucky Barnes you had to remind yourself. "Sorry about erm- interrupting." You finally broke the silence, watching the smirk that tugged at the man's lips.

"It's fine." He shrugged. "She wasn't all that pretty anyway." In your opinion, she had been. She had been the definition of conventionally attractive, but of course, that still wasn't enough for Bucky Barnes. "Why are you here is the real question."

"I wanted to talk." You suddenly became awkward, not moving from your spot in the doorway as Bucky sat at the edge of his bed.

"You came all this way at midnight...just to talk?"

You only had one reason for such, "I got drunk."

You had been lucky when Bucky laughed rather than yelled your way. "Of course you did." He drew from the bed, still without a shirt, as he wandered towards you, his height watching over you.

It was a difficult job to keep your heart from racing. A man so close. And in such a state, you weren't sure if you wanted to continue what you had walked in on or slap his face. "I thought about it and as much as I hate to say it, you're right. This isn't about us. But if we do this, get married, whatever, you have to involve me. Every meeting, every fight, whatever it is, I want to know."

Bucky held onto your every word, yet his smirk never faded. His next words were ones you had never been privileged enough to hear. Not from your brother or Natasha, hell, not even Steve. And you would question why the hell it was Bucky Barnes who was the one helping you get what you wanted. "I was always going to involve you."

Taglist - @barnesxstan @sebastians-love @ghalouha @mrsnikstan (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed) x

[jerzwriter]

This is part of my Tobias x Casey AU If It Were Canon... This world mimics canon but with Tobias Carrick as head of the Edenbrook Diagnostic Team instead of Ethan Ramsey. I haven't done much there, but this Holiday idea seemed more attuned to this world.

Book: Open Heart (Book 1) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 2,249 Summary: Tobias & Casey have been trying to push their feelings for each other away from the day they met. But holiday parties have a reputation for bringing these things to the surface, and they are not immune. When a mistletoe moment brings feelings to the surface, will they both feel the same way about it the next day?

A/N: Participating in @choicesholidays Winter Event, prompt: Under the Mistletoe and @choicesdecember2024 and @choicesdecember2024 Day 7: Mistletoe

The Edenbrook Hospital holiday party was in full swing, and the typically bland conference room was transformed into a festive winter wonderland that would make even the most avid Hallmark movie viewer proud. Twinkling white lights and endless boughs of evergreen garlands hung overhead as the sounds of a  DJ spinning questionable renditions of holiday classics filled the room. In the midst of this, Dr. Casey Mactavish was nestled in a corner, looking much better than she felt as she nursed a cranberry martini. It may have been a special night at the hospital, but she was doing what she always did... trying to ignore the magnetic pull she felt every time Dr. Tobias Carrick entered her line of sight.

He was across the room, unfairly handsome in his fitted charcoal suit, his blue eyes sparkling as he laughed at something Dr. Harper Avery had just said. Casey bit her lip, her cheeks warming as she replayed every stolen glance and accidental brush of hands they had shared over the last few months in her mind. Most in attendance wouldn’t have noticed her internal struggle, but her best friend, Sienna, wasn’t most people, and she felt her friend’s distress from the moment the handsome doctor strutted into the room.  

“Be careful, Case,” Sienna whispered with a knowing grin. “You’re doing it again.”

Casey’s face turned red as the satin dress she bought just for tonight. “I’m not doing anything,” she lied. “I’m just... observing the party.”

“Right. Observing the party. Is there any specific person that you’re... observing?”

Irritated, Casey turned to her friend but couldn’t hide a smile when their eyes met. “Shut up,” she said, polishing off her drink. How did Sienna know her so well?

Unbeknownst to Casey, Tobias was fighting his own battle across the room. Every time he caught a glimpse of her smile or heard her laugh, he swore the room got brighter. He wondered if he was as transparent as he felt. Was it apparent to everyone around him? He hated how obvious his feelings were; he hated that he had these feelings at all. He always prided himself on being in control, and then he met her.

Casey was brilliant, beautiful, and utterly captivating... she had captured him in her spell with just one smile, but she was completely off-limits. He had done his best to put distance between them... trading shifts,  transferring cases, even leaving Donahue’s anytime she showed up. But tonight, with a drink or two too many, he felt his usual restraint loosening. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

The night went on, and the drinks kept flowing, leaving Tobias feeling more bold. He crossed the room and sat next to Casey, their easy rapport noticeable at once. They talked all night, at least when they weren’t dancing. Both were doing an equally bad job of hiding the glow that overtook them each time their eyes met or one spoke the other’s name. They were headed to the bar for fresh drinks when it happened.

“Mistletoe!” Elijah hollered as they passed by, sending those around him into cheers. Tobias looked up to find that he and Casey were standing beneath the offending sprig, her eyes wide with embarrassment.

“Looks like you’re up, MacTavish!” Elijah teased.

Before Casey could escape, Tobias shot a mischievous grin. “They’re asking for a show, should we give it to them?”

Casey’s heart almost stopped. “Are you crazy? That would feed the hospital gossip mill for weeks,” she whispered back, though he noted her lips had curved into a smile.

She wasn’t wrong, and typically, he would have refrained, but alcohol had other ideas. “C’mon, MacTavish, it’s all in good fun. And what happens at the holiday party – STAYS at the holiday party.”

He leaned in, his hand landing on her waist, and pressed a playful kiss to her lips. It was supposed to be quick, light, a little joke to please the crowd, but the moment their lips touched, the rest of the world fell away. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was months of desire and longing cumulating into a single, heart-stopping moment.

They pulled apart as the crowd whooped and cheered, their gazes locked on each other. Casey's breath hitched, and she took a self-protective step back. “I... I need some fresh air,” she said, rushing toward the exit.

Tobias only hesitated a second before following her into the frigid December air. Casey was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear him approaching her; she only noticed him when he was standing at her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Casey turned with a nervous laugh. “Sure! I just kissed my attending in front of half the hospital. I’m pretty sure that’s the introductory chapter of ‘The Best Ways to Ruin Your Career’ handbook.”

Tobias couldn’t help but chuckle; even now, she was so endearing. “I’ve worked at Edenbrook longer than you. I assure you, they'll bore of this by tomorrow. Besides, you're brilliant. Your career will be just fine.”

Then why have we fought this so long? She thought but couldn't muster the nerve to say it out loud. She turned to him, eyes searching his face. “Why did you follow me out here?”

“I was worried about you. I couldn’t let you run off like that,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “And I… I couldn’t let that be the only kiss we ever share.”

Casey exhaled as her eyes fell to the ground. “Tobias…”

But he was undeterred. Taking a step closer, gently brushed her cheek. “I know we probably shouldn’t... but, Casey, I’ve been fighting this since the day we met, and I’m so damn tired of pretending I don’t care about you. That I don't want you."

She bit her lip. She knew she should fight this; she knew she should run away, but it only took one look into his eyes for her walls to come crumbling down.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” she whispered. Grasping the lapels of his jacket, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, and this time, there was no hesitation. His fingers ran through her hair, and their kiss deepened as the moment each had imagined countless times came to life. Casey ran her hands up his arms, groaning softly when his lips fell to her neck, setting Tobias aflame. Without breaking their kiss, he guided them to a nearby bench when Casey began to chuckle.

“What are you laughing at,” he asked, smiling against her lips.

“We're all dressed up, sitting outside of the hospital - I feel like two prom kids who snuck out of the gym to escape the chaperones," she grinned.

“I assure you, Casey. I did not attend prom with anyone like you.”

With that, they went back to the task at hand, forgetting the world existed just feet away. They would have continued for hours if a voice hadn't pulled them away.

“Casey!” Sienna called from the door. “Casey, are you out here?”

“Oh my, God!” she gasped, looking at Tobias. “How long have we been out here?”

“Based on the icicles on our noses," he joked. "I'd say a long time."

Casey jumped up, smoothing out her dress and doing her best to act nonchalant as she answered her friend. “Over here, Si!” She hollered. “Dr. Carrck and I were, uh... we were just discussing a case.”

Sienna looked from Casey to Tobias. Even the king of smooth couldn’t hide the “you caught us” look on his face. “Uh huh,” Sienna teased. “A case... is that what we’re calling it these days?”

“Well, the party is over!" Casey announced, grabbing her friend and roommate’s hand and shooting Tobias a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow."

“Tomorrow,” he nodded, the light still burning in his eyes.

The following morning, Casey woke up to a pounding headache with only vague recollections of the night before. She stumbled to the kitchen and poured a cup of black coffee when memories her memories began to stir... “Oh my, God!” She said out loud. “Did, did we....”

An hour later, she was at the hospital about to begin rounds when Tobias paged her to his office. Casey headed there with her stomach churning in anticipation. The two of them had felt the spark from the moment they met; there was no doubt in her mind that this... that they... were inevitable. Sure, this could be a little messy, but it was going to happen, and it felt good to finally address it. Before she knew it, she was entering his office cautiously. She found him seated behind his desk, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the unreadable expression on his face.

“Dr. MacTavish,” he began, his tone formal. “I think we should talk about last night…”

It felt like the floor opened beneath her – in fact – she wished it had. It didn’t take a medical degree from one of the best schools in the nation to know what was coming next – they hadn’t been on the same page at all. She was about to have her heart broken, and she didn't want to be mortified, too. With a sinking heart, she forced a smile. “It was a mistake,” she muttered before he had a chance to say it. “Typical holiday party... too much to drink, and...things happen,” she paused. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

He nodded with relief, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him. “Exactly. I’m so glad you feel the same way. We need to keep things professional between us.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice clipped. “And that’s exactly what we’ll do. Now, if that’s all?”

“That’s all,” he said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. "And...things don’t have to be awkward between us, Casey. Sometimes... these things happen.”

“Yes, agreed,” she nodded, hopping to her feet. She couldn’t get out of his office soon enough.

Her vision was blurred by tears she refused to shed as she walked to the door, letting out a breath the second it closed behind her. Ignoring a curious glance or two, she rushed to the nearest supply room and slammed the door.

At least he was cool about it, she thought, but that didn’t ease the pain. Could she have been this wrong? She swore he felt it, too; she knew he did... or perhaps she wasn’t as perceptive as she liked to believe. With a shake of her head, she rose to her feet, wiping away any trace of tears. She stepped into the hallway with her head held high. She wouldn’t let this defeat her, but that sinking feeling in her chest wouldn't leave anytime soon.

Tobias watched as she left the room, his heart twisting. He almost stopped her, opening his mouth to call her name, but no words came out. He had to, he told himself. He had to let her go, but why did it have to hurt this bad? He lied to her, for both their sakes, but he lied to her nevertheless, and as he slumped back into his chair, he realized what a terrible mistake he just made. He couldn't leave things like this.

Later that night, Casey was sitting on the couch in her tiny apartment, a mug of hot cocoa doing nothing to help her sadness, when she heard a knock at her door. She wasn't in the mood to be social, but her roommates were not home, so she rose to her feet with a frown. She opened the door, shocked to find Tobias standing there with a sheepish grin on his face and a sprig of mistletoe in his hand.

“Hello,” he smiled, stepping inside before she could protest.

“What... what are you doing here?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“I need to apologize, Casey. I wasn’t honest with you today. I can't stop thinking about last night... just like I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you from the day we met.”

“But... but you said...” she stammered as he raised a finger to her lips.

“I thought I was saying the right thing, but it wasn’t. A lie is never the right thing. The truth is, I’m crazy about you, MacTavish – and with Christmas just a week away, I know I don’t want to spend it with anyone but you.”

He took a deep breath and raised the mistletoe held above their heads.

“Can I have a do-over?” He asked. “No audience this time - just us. And when we’re done, we'll figure out a way to move forward together because I’m done fighting what I feel.”

Casey’s breath hitched as she leaned in, words unnecessary as their lips met again. They were done fighting it, this thing between them was real, and nothing, not rules, not gossip, not fear, would keep them apart anymore.

Tobias was reverent when they broke away, their foreheads pressed against each other’s, but Casey couldn’t contain her grin.

“Merry Christmas, Tobias,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Tobas cupped her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Casey,” he smiled.

They stood in the entranceway, wrapped in a tight embrace. There were things to figure out, but not now; now, they were going to relish the moment. Christmas came early for Tobias and Casey this year, and right now, all that mattered was they finally had each other.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[fasthq]

NEVER FALL IN LOVE IN MIAMI !!

love it or hate it, valentines day has arrived in vice city and the locals are going all out. various venues around town have seemingly been hit with cupid's arrow ! this year's hallmark holiday has graced the scene of 12welve, body, coyote casino, and heartbreaker bar. where will you find love ?

12welve: this popular night club is never one to miss out on a theme. the walls are covered in hearts and the signature neon lights have been switched to exclusively pink and red. make sure to stop by and grab a valentine's day special cocktail ! they'll be serving pink gin martinis, red hot and bothered's, love potion no. 9's, strawberry sangrias, and between the sheets'. don't worry, the DJs wouldn't be caught dead playing slow jams !

body: what's a better place to find love than in a strip club ? the beloved body has embraced the power of venus and decked out their establishment in rose petals and the scent of givenchy amarige. step into this garden of eden and you may just find your true love up on stage. remember, you can look, but don't touch !

coyote casino: feeling lucky in love ? head on over to coyote casino and put that to the test ! the slots and game tables have been decorated with fake, fluffy clouds and little cherubs to keep you company as you gamble on a check or two. if that's not your style, the glamorous in - house restaurants are having a valentine's day special for all the dinner date plans out there.

heartbreaker bar: looking for a reprieve from all the x's and o's ? heartbreaker has you covered. why, it's in the name after all ! naturally, this dive is holding a "stupid cupid" night for all the valentines averse miamians out there. featuring their signature hallway of memorabilia, take a pic in their photobooth with your anti - valentine and hang it up for everyone to see.

however, miami's street racing underground has a plan for their real true loves. their cars. at midnight, right after the rest of the world's valentine's day, a meet has been scheduled in bay parking garage. the renowned prowlers may lay claim to the structure, but it remains a perfect community spot for showing off rides away from any lawful eyes. be sure to stay in your lines, as most of the city's enthusiasts will be pulling up to truly show off their admiration !

OUT OF CHARACTER: LOVE IN THE 305

out of character, this event will last from sat. 2/8 — sat. 2/15.

in character, everything will take place on valentine's day. the exception being the car meet in bay parking garage which is held after midnight on 2/15.

all threads should be catered towards the event. you may choose what location your muse is at, but all muses should be at the meet after midnight. for the first portion of this event, threads should run until 2am ic time.

please tag any open starters with fast.valentines to keep everything organized.

if you choose to make an edit of your muse's attire, you may tag it with fast.talk and fast.valentines !

[marilynthornhilllover]

If you’re looking for requests I have one for ya!!

Reader is at a party with their wife (or girlfriend, whichever you decide works best) Alcina. A beautiful woman walks up to reader at the bar and starts flirting with them but they’re clueless and just think she’s being friendly.

Alcina sees what’s going on and gets wildly jealous. When reader gets back to her she’s short and angry with reader. Eventually, she tells reader what she saw and reader is shocked that the girl was flirting with them.

Alcina gets possessive (as per usual) and takes reader into the bathroom and fucks her brains out so the only person in reader mind for the rest of the night is Alcina.

Maybe some sweet fluff at the end?

When temptations are high

Alcina dimitrescu x fem!reader

Warning: smut,slight cunniligus, slight praise kink,strap, degradation kink, possessiveness, dom!alcina, slight mean alcina, manhandling, rough sex, slight overstiumlation, slight orgasm denial, fluff.

A/n: I'm honestly sorry to howsoever requested this because it's been 42,827 years and I'm sorry, thank you for your patience 💀😭hope you enjoy😌💞🙌

The music was great and the party was very much alive. Everyone had their natural flow to the beat of the song. You and alcina were fashionably late as always. You were wearing a skin tight black slik skirt with a simple white vintage cardigan, as for alcina she was wearing black men trousers and a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up around her elbows.

Her hair was curled up around her face, every step she took they bounced. Her silhouette red heels adding to her height. You both turned some heads as you walked up to the bar to get yourselves some drinks.

Alcina made small talk with one of her friends at the bar as she waited for the bar man to hand over the drinks.

Your eyes wondered curiously around the room, flicking from couples grinding on eachother, the single ones dancing their soul out on the dance floor, the vibe was amazing. You could feel someone staring at you, you averted your eyes to the persons mysterious pull. Your eyes landed on this breath taking woman that was standing in the shadowy end on the room.

She had on a red dress that was covered in dimonds and her hairstyle was exactly the same to alcinas, except she had a side part. Her make up was dark and vibrant, alluring a soft glow when ever the lights from the DJ booth flicked across her face.

You must have been staring for too long, because the mystery woman across the room flashed you a sly smirk before turning to the girl next to her and began talking. She must have a strong effect on people because the poor started squirming and blushing drastically.

You had a huge thing for middle aged women and it was obvious just by your relationship with the alcina dimitrescu. You narrowed your eyes at the scene and turned to give your attention back to alcina who was now in another conversation with someone else.

The bartender handed you your drink, a martini, light ice and alcinas ruby red Italian wine. You gaved her drink to her which she glady took, giving you a kiss on the cheek and flashing you a small smile as she returned to her conversation.

You sighed and decided to walk around the room. The music changed to a soft romantic jazz. You smiled and proceeded to turn around to go back to alcina so that the both of you can dance, since of course she loved jazz music but you bumped into someone almost falling down.

A strong pair of hands grabbed your waist quickly and held you close to them. You caught yourself and sighed. Looking up to see the same mystery woman staring into your soul. God she was beautiful. You got lost in her emerald eyes as she gently pulled you up onto your feet to stand straight - her hand never leaving your side.

"Thank you" you whispered, not trusting your voice to say anything more. You could feel your body getting hotter each passing second and it was becoming slightly impossible for you to keep your sanity.

" that skirt looks good on you" she whispered in your ear, her lips slightly hovering over your skin making you sliver. Before you can even respond with an appropriate answer she spoke up again.

" but I'm sure It will look better on my bedroom floor" you were utterly lost for words. She pulled you closer to her and placed a soft but meaning kiss to your neck before sighing, she rested her face into your neck leaving a few more kisses there before she completely released you from her hold.

It took every cell in your body to try not to whine at the lost of contact. You should be ashamed of yourself. You were as red as a tomato if not more red , and sweating ducks. She smiled seductively at you before taking out a business card and giving it to you. She leaned into your ear again and spoke.

" if you ever get bored of the eiffel tower" she said sarcastically, and you knew who she was referring to. You bite your lip and shook your head. She walked pass you and you were immediately met with alcinas golden eyes piercing into your soul.

The were cold and full of anger. From the way her nose flared, she hands were clenched and her hooded eyes you knew it was better if you got on your knees and begged the earth to open up and suck you in because God alone knows what's running through her mind.

You gulped as you slowly walked over to her, like a scolded puppy when they know they did something wrong. As you approached her you could literally see the fire flames burning in her eyes. Her pupils dilated and she only looked at you, like an hawk looks at its prey.

You cleared your throat and stood directly infront of her. She scoffed as she looked down and saw the business card in your hand. She looked over at the woman across the room and glared at her, the lady only raising her glass as if she's making a toast before smirking and walking towards the DJ booth. Alcina suddenly grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you towards the bathroom area.

She pushed you in harshly but still making sure not to hurt you in the process.

" what the fuck was that!" She shouted her eyes flicking a deadly golden color clear evidence she was completely perplexed and wasn't going to take any bullshit amswer from you. When you didn't answer but instead looked down she tore the business card away from your hand and tore it to pieces before throwing it the trash can.

" if I didn't know better I would think that you wanted her to fuck you right then and there in front of everyone" she spoke through gritted teeth. You didn't expect to get on her bad side tonight, tonight was supposed to be special, a little night out so that the both of you can relax and take a break from work.

She grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at her.

" Your lucky I love you enough not to go to jail otherwise I would have snapped her in half!" She growled. You gulped as you looked into her eyes. She was absolutely serious and she was raging. Her anger is not one to be testednor doubted..It's dangerous and it shows no mercy. And when she's anger she's a completely different person. And if she says she would have snapped that woman in half you best believe it.

She groaned loudly as she harshly let go of your chin. She sighed heavily as she started to paste back and forth across the room.

" cina I'm sorry, everything happened so fast, I almost fell she helped me and- I don't have an excuse because I could have walked away I'm sorry. it's not that big of a deal. Her eyes were just so-" she cut you off by quickly walking up to you and choking you. You reached behind you to quickly hold yourself up by using the edge of the sink and she leaned you back.

" not that big of a deal? what was her fucking name" she snarled at you tightening her grip around your neck, now she was scaring you. Alcina would never hurt you but as of now her grip was cutting off your blood flow and you were losing oxygen. You couldn't even think properly but your tried to remember. You thinked back to when she handed you the card and you looked down at it.

Kate

" h-her name w-was kate" you manged to choke out, before she released you. You immediately gasped for air and you held onto her shoulder. Alcina pressed herself flush against your body and you could feel her strap. You looked up at her wide eyed and she chuckled darkly.

" it was meant to be for a surprise when we got home but my, my darling you need a punishment" she spoke in a sultry voice. Alcina smirked as she saw the blacked out expression on your face. You looked surprise but also so needy for her cock in your greedy hole. You squirmed and rubbed your thighs together but she immediately picked up on it and forced her knee between them to stop you.

She wrapped her hands around your neck again but this time more gently.

" listen to me you little slut and attention seeker, I'm gonna fuck you til you can even remember her name and yours and since you loved her eyes I'm gonna make you look at me while you come undone on mommy's strap and maybe.... who knows, maybe you'll see stars" she chuckled as you already started drooling for her.

In one swift motion alcina unbuttoned your cardigan and unclasped your bra, she lifted you up and placed you onto the counter. You spread your legs for her in a sexy way, batting your eyelashes and biting your bottom lip seductively. Alcina chuckled as she unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down enough for the strap to bounce out.

She groaned as she looked up at you and smirked.

" next time I should have you suck it off, mhm" she spoke in a teasing tone. You'd be more than happy to. Alcina took off your skirt and looked at the thin see through white thong you have on. She chuckled before ripping it, having it suffer the same fate as the business card before pushing it in her pocket. Alcina cooed as she gently ran her cold firm cock up your slit and slightly over your clit causing you to moan as your eyes rolled back.

" so desperate from mommy's cock huh? Mhm little slut who has you this wet and cock drunk?" She asked chuckling as she looked up at you smirking at your needy whimpers and pathetic moans as your eyes rolled back into your head. You mumbled incoherent sentences. Alcina loved seeing you like this for her but she needed you to respond. She was in charge.

In one swift and deep thrust she bottomed out in you. All the air was pushed out of your lungs as you felt the tip of her cock press deep within your spongy walls hitting your sweet spot so good, few more of thoses and you would be cumming and screaming her name. She pressed on the tummy bulge she had created in you and leaned down towards your face smirking like the devil himself.

" Answer me you slut, I got you this cock drunk?" She asked once more in a demanding sultry tone. You tried your best to answer her you really did but God the only thing you could think about was her cock. Alcinas dimitrescus cock buried deep within you. For sure if anyone came in and saw this scenery they would faint.

Your legs trembled as she straightened up her posture and started a few slow strokes within you. Watching as your face convert in pleasure as your mouth formed a small "o" shape as you fought to hold onto her shoulders for stability.

"You love when mommy fucks you like this don't you my love? Think that woman could get this deep in you? Mhm make you cum the way I make you do?" She asked and you forced yourself to squeak out a high pitched "no". She smirked, her eyebrows quriking up in disbelief.

" I don't believe you" she simply stated. Alcina removed your hands from her shoulder as she intertwined her fingers with your, holding your hand above your head. She moved her hips and a relentlessly pace pounding your cunt in ways you knew for sure that other woman can't.

" fuck! Alcina p-please mph!" You moaned as you removed your hand from her hold and tried to press against her mound she she wouldn't deep but she only removed your hand forcing it back above your head as she went even deeper, now she started rubbing tight fast circles around your puffy bud, groaning as the room now became filled with your screams of pleasure and her grunts.

You were seeing stars. Alcina was fucking you like a animal, so fucking good ( as always). Tears started to form in your eyes as you forced yourself to look up at her. She was focused on the sight of her cock going in and out of you and her mission with your clit.

You moaned her name softly as she spat on your clit and started rubbing it more harshly. You fought against her hold on your hip as your eyes rolled back once more. Alcina looked up at the sight before her, she was in awe. You were crying. Your makeup messed up, mascara running down along with the tears, your hair messed up. Fuck you were a beautiful sight to see. That made alcina even more feral.

" fucking God, are you crying draga? Mommy fucks you so good that you cry on her cock, wanna cum too huh?" You nodded uncontrollably as you felt yourself clench down on her cock.

" fucking cum for mommy " she whispered opening your shaking legs to the widest as she fucked you hard and fast, pounding ruthlessly into your g-spot every 2 seconds. With one final thrust you cumed on alcinas faux cock as she panted.

She chuckled at your worn out, gently removing her cock from your ruined cunt she kneeled down and admired what she created like your cunt was the most precious art piece in the entire world. She slowly cleaned you with her tongue looking up at you sympathetically as you let out soft whimpers. She cooed softly at you the vibrations sending a shock wave through you making you grab her hair and pull her away from you.

She softly kissed your clit before coming up and kissing you passionately, you could taste every bit of yourself on her tongue. She realesed you and helped you get dressed again. Noticing the tired expression on your face. She picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the bathroom and through the back door so no one would see.

She placed you in the car, putting your seat belt on she noticed that you were already asleep. She smiled softly, removing strands of hair from your face and quietly shutting the door moving to her side. The ride home to your shared mansion was quite. Alcina took you up stairs and ran you a bath, after she proceeded to cuddle with you in bed.

" I'm sorry if I accidentally hurt you today my love, you know i get a little jealous when it comes to what is mine" she spoke softly kissing your forehead. You smiled up at her and chuckled.

" you weren't sorry when you were fucking my brains out, but not gonnna lie i really enjoyed it" you said sarcastically, she playfully rolled her eyes and stared at you happily.

" God I love you" she mumbled before slowly starting to drift off to sleep.

" not as much as I do" you whispered, you both went back and forth about who loved who more until you both fell into deep slumber.

[martiniluvr]

listen to me. listen.

this:

plus this:

think about it. digest it. let your mind wander. thank me later.

[lottiecrabie]

to dust and bones. part one – matty healy

they cross paths at a bar. he’s out for blood, and hers beat tantazingly beneath her flesh. (or the worst people you know are in the worst situationship in existence)

warnings: 18+, power games, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, choking, dom!matty, bratting, general toxicity, mentions of drug use, oc

part one of two

6521 words

Alana shoots back the bitter tequila, licking hot sauce off her sweaty hands. Her face scrunches in pain, head shaking. Her sinuses clear; her thoughts leak out of her head. There’s ear-splitting music ringing around her— some god awful EDM shit she’s drunk enough to dance to. 

Crowded bodies push against her. She sways to the beat, hips rolling to some seductive rhythm drumming in the deepest parts of her heart. Her skin-tight black dress rises up her legs, revealing inches of tantalizing skin. 

Alana feels rugged hands graze the outside of her thighs. She smirks to herself, leaning back against the hard wall of body behind her. Fingers climb up instinctively to her waist, spreading across her stomach, tugging her into him until they’re flushed together, indistinguishable from the other. 

Black curls tickle at her cheek. He’s familiar against her; the muscles and dips of him unfortunately memorized in a corner of her brain she hasn’t managed to blitz out even with all the coke. 

Matty Healy. Dark angel leaning over her, nosing her perfumed neck. 

“Buy a girl a drink first,” Alana whispers. Thankfully he’s close— too close to breathe properly, to make sense of her scattered thoughts— and he manages to hear over the DJ’s techno beats. 

“Why would I?” Matty bites back, breath blowing against her ear. Alana forces down a shiver. “I can have her without.” 

She whips to face him, a furious dash between her eyebrows. Rage climbs up her spine, taking over her head, and it’s only the second most familiar emotion she feels with Matty Healy. What an insufferable asshole, looking at her all smug when he sees the anger spreading through her veins. 

Cheeks red, head swimming with the alcohol and the drugs and the deafening music, Alana tries to come up with some scathing reply. She wants to leave him burning, skin red and raw where she lashed at him. Wants to dig her nails into him, tear his beating heart from two fragile ribs. 

“Fuck you,” is what she manages, of course, because the world is a blurry daze around her, and her brain is working slower than her tongue. 

Matty smiles saccharine sweet at her. It feels awfully condescending on the cutting traits of his face. “But you have, princess.” 

“You’re—” He cocks his head, encouraging her with gleeful eyes. Alana breathes through her nose. “—not worth my time. Go do your horny act somewhere else.” 

She flips on her heels, marching determinedly to the crowded bar. Matty is hot on her trails, of course, leaning into her to tease, “Horny act? I barely even touched you.” 

“The most you will.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Alana pushes her way through the swarming crowd, digging her elbows in unfortunate places to get an in. People turn to her with a snarling face, but most seem to back down at the sight of her. Perhaps they recognize her, with flushed cheeks and cleavage dipping low. Perhaps they recognize the man towering behind her, following her godly parting of the sea of bodies like the privileged kid he’s always been. 

She finally manages to get to the bar, hands slamming the counter victoriously. A pretty bartender bounces to her, upping her chin in question. “What can I get you?” 

Alana opens her mouth. Instead, Matty cuts in, “Dirty vodka martini for her and a gin tonic for me.” The bartender nods, getting to work. 

Alana’s head flips to him, daggering him with a murderous glare. “I can order for myself.” 

Matty scoffs. “You practically begged me to buy you a drink.” 

She stumbles over the words in sheer offense, shrill as she gasps, “Begged— Oh, you fucking asshole.” 

Two drinks slam over the counter. “Put it on my tab,” Matty says, kidnapping her martini and making his way out of the crowd. Alana follows him bitterly, already planning to rack up his bill now that he’s so stupidly offered it to her. She’ll buy rounds for the whole club just to ruin him. 

He leads them to the VIP lounge, nodding at the bouncer as he moves to let them in. What a douchey move, she thinks, climbing up the staggering stairs, holding the skirt of her rising dress. 

The lounge is drenched in red light. Black leather couches and satin cushions scatter the place. Gray cigar smoke lingers above their heads. Some softer RnB plays, and Alana’s ears find momentary relief. She bites her lip to contain a pleased moan. 

Two dancers, impossibly tall and svelte in white lingerie dresses, move against two poles on a small stage. They’re languid and confident, swaying to a temperature rising rhythm, effortlessly seductive. 

Matty sits in front of the dancers, legs spreading as he makes himself too comfortable. He rests the two drinks on a black table in front of him, looking up at the girls with a cheeky, provocative grin. 

Inexplicable fire twists up in her guts. Alana drops beside Matty, practically sticking to his side, one leg crossing over the other to faintly kick his shin, which he takes in chuckling stride.

Her arm reaches over him to grab her martini. She places it between her lips, glass knocking her teeth gracelessly. He considers her, eyes following the land of skin she's uncovered through her new pose. 

“Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” He teases as she finishes a new mouthful of her cocktail. 

Alana offers him a deadpan look. “No.” 

He rolls his eyes, grabbing his gin tonic, leaning an arm over the back of the couch. “Brat,” he shakes his head. 

The lightning is low, casting red shadows over his face, but she can still see his dark gaze, hungry for flesh and those pathetic whines she can never hold back when he’s knuckles deep inside of her, penetrating through her skin. She draws a finger around the rim of the glass. 

She hates it most when Matty gets that way, intense and greedy and so fucking clear. His stare is predatory, watching her every little move to pounce on. The game feels instantly more dangerous. Anxiety spikes; some fight or flight response she never chooses right. 

Matty downs half of his drink, conspicuous Adam’s apple bobbing. She watches it religiously, remembering the purple stains she scattered around it just a few days ago. 

“Don’t drink so fast. We just got here,” she says warningly. She knows why he’s speeding this up. 

Matty lowers his glass just enough to offer a burning stare, hotter than she can handle in this stuffy room. 

I’m gonna fuck you is written bright and clear in his eyes. 

He finishes his gin tonic in another long sip, licking the last drop from his red lips. Heat spreads through her abdomen, clenching it guiltily. She flexes her hands around the stem. 

Slamming the glass back on the table, Matty adventures two fingers over her naked leg. It tickles, raising the hair of her skin as she shivers openly. His palm swallows the meat of her thigh, the tempting skin she so freely offered him. His hand is cold, glacial against the fire licking up her limbs. 

“Drink up,” Matty whispers, a devilish smile catching his cheek. She shakes her head, words completely lost to her. 

“I’m not thirsty.” Alana’s heart smashes against her ribs. Uncontrollable thing, careless thing. It always throws her into the worst situations, leaving her sober head to clean up its mess.

“No?” Matty pouts, climbing his hand to the hem of her dress. “You look a little flushed.” 

“It’s the light.” She stares up at the red fluorescents to prove her point, like he couldn’t see the mood lighting reigning over the room. 

“I think you’re scared,” Matty says. He’s never been one to stretch his words, coat them in syrup to swallow easier. 

She racks her throat. “Why would I be scared?” Although she promised herself not to give him an inch more, Alana gulps some of her martini to shake off the nerves (not fear, just some pesky anxiety from the lingering drugs). Matty smiles at the action triumphantly. 

“Because you left me naked and tied up to my bed last time.” He leans into her, whispering playfully into her cheek. “Because you didn’t let me come, and now you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you.” 

More backless bravado than sense, she grins cheekily. “It was funny. It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.” 

Fingers dipping under her dress. Alana bites her lip, hiding the breathy moan that wishes to slip her lips. It’s useless; he sees right through. “Oh, I’ll make you laugh.” He bites at her jaw, not enough to sting, but enough to know he’s serious. She scrunches her nose, tilting her head into him. 

Matty leans away, grabbing the martini from her hand. He places it between her lips. Instinctively, Alana opens them, and he tips the glass into her mouth. “Good girl,” he teases as she drinks. Her eyes snap to his dangerously, some unmasked threat that she’d spit it in his face if it wouldn’t ruin some really good vodka. “So feisty,” Matty tsks, amused. 

He takes the glass away. She licks at the rim, catching some droplets as it falls down the cone. Matty swirls the leftover martini, staring down shamelessly at her wet lips. 

“I could fuck anyone here,” he whispers. Clarity strikes through the flames, shaking away some of that daze. She frowns at him, taking a self-conscious peek at the pair of girls still twirling around their pole. Of course, Matty catches her moment of weakness, grasping it greedily as she scowls. “Yes, especially them. Have them bent over the other for me, cunts opened for my cock. Couldn’t you just see them, screaming in my sheets, rutting against each other?” 

“You overestimate your skills,” Alana bites, though it’s mostly from anger at the unwelcomed images he’s forced inside her brain. “You couldn’t handle them.” 

He arches an eyebrow. “Like I can’t handle you?”

She purses your lips, face crisping. She wishes it was true. That he didn’t have enough hands and tongue and cock to work with all of her, with the mess of hair she throws back carelessly as she rides him, with the nails digging into his back mercilessly, with the hips he grasps between heavy hands as he bruises her skin. That the rage and the hatred and the head-twirling passion she throws at him wouldn’t be caught, wouldn’t be swallowed to spit back tenfold. That he wouldn’t know what to do with all of her. 

But he does. Goddamit, he does like no one else ever has. 

Alana refuses to dignify him with an answer. Still, Matty doesn’t need one, dipping the leftover martini in her mouth. His breath is hot against her ear, sticking on her sweaty skin. 

“I could fuck anyone here,” he repeats, probably to martel home some complex she’s not interested in diving into. “But I want you.” 

She’d bite back something cheeky and snobbish, something near of course you do or who doesn’t or some other grand words to deflect. Right now, she’s too busy obediently swallowing what he’s giving her, but she’s sure he reads them anyway in the burn of her stare. 

As if to plead the last of his case, he raises his cold hand to the final stretch, meeting the black lace of her panties. Alana moans, alcohol dripping down her chin from the startled jump, something else dripping where his fingers meet the apex of her thighs. 

“Let me fuck you,” Matty breathes, biting her jaw, this time to sting, to tear apart. 

Finished with her drink, he slams the glass beside his, turning back to her quickly, afraid to miss even the smallest of shivers. “Begging already?” Alana pants, out of breath. 

His free thumb wipes the alcohol off her chin, bringing it back to her lips, forcing them open. She sucks his finger into her mouth. He presses against her tongue, heavy and undeniable. Drool sticks to it as she releases it, red lipstick staining the knuckle. 

His other hand, much more occupied, teases a delicious rhythm over her wet panties. She leans further into the cushions, manually stopping herself from dropping her legs open for this whole lounge to see. 

“Don’t give me ideas,” Matty warns. “You know how I enjoy you begging. All those pretty sounds you make, whiney and pathetic.”

His spitful hand racks through the sweaty mess of her hair, tugging at the roots. Her head bends, throat barred. He grunts at the sight.

Matty can’t stop himself any longer. He crashes his lips to hers, licking into her open mouth. It’s a messy thing, more teeth and spit than anything romantic, hands still buried in her hair. He tugs it harshly, swallowing the pitiful moans she releases. 

Alana clings to his shoulders, afraid she’d drown in the satin if it wasn’t for his buoyant body slithering around her. She curses his jacket, bulletproof vest to the claw marks she’d litter on his skin. Black nail polish tainted red by the end of the night— but he’s safe for now. 

Matty bites her lower lip, dragging it from her. She shudders in his arms, head swooping ecstasy climbing up her thoughtless brain. It must be the martini downed too fast. (It’s him. It’s always him.)

His hand releases her hair, finding the slope of her neck instead, digging into the skin. His thumb presses meanly at her jaw. Alana wonders if it’ll bruise. 

He pushes her further into the sofa, practically swallowing her whole under his lanky limbs. She can’t make sense of the edges of him. He’s everywhere, invading her flesh, slipping under her very skin, to the beating parts of her she wishes to banish him from. Hot pleasure drips down her veins. 

Matty licks into her lazily. He tastes like gin, which he knows she hates. He does it on purpose, buying drinks she’d never put to her lips just to spit it in her mouth. Alana can’t stand the taste of it. She doesn’t know why she craves the taste of him, faintly smokey from some expensive cigarette. 

He thumbs at her clit vaguely, more as a smothered promise of what he could do than any real attempt at skill. Still, it’s enough to make dangerous fire course through her veins. She clenches around nothing, groaning. 

“Are you gonna fuck me in front of everyone?” Alana rasps, biting and mean like he’s not playing her like his favorite puppet. 

Matty hums indulgently. He presses his index into her clothed entrance, wet and sticky for him. “Do you want me to? Let them know how good you are for me even with all that talk? All those sounds you make just for me?” He nips at her jaw, climbing up to her ear. “We can give them a show.” 

Alana’s heart slams against her ribs, begging to be let out and fall to his booted feet. She breathes heavily, head falling as he continues some slow circle on her clit, never enough to wipe from her head the outrageous knowledge that it’s Matty Healy blowing the flames. 

“Bathroom,” Alana gasps, eyes scrunched close. 

Matty laughs lowly, shaking his head in the side of her neck. “Coward.” 

Still, he sits up, dragging her body with his. Her brain knocks against her skull as she comes back, taking a deep breath of air. Reality feels very far away from the tip of her fingers. She’s drowning in him, in the smell of his cologne and that awful taste of gin clinging to his lips. 

The walk to the bathroom feels like a dreamscape maze, more colorful mood lightning and stepping over leather shoes than any tangible thing. 

The room is dark and clinical. The floor is black marble, sleek and easy to step on, heels clicking as she adventures further into the bathroom. The light is low. Alana has to squint to make sense of Matty locking the door behind them. He turns back to her, lion stride as he loosens his tie. 

He’s gonna eat her alive. 

Matty crowds her space, pushing her against the sink’s countertop as he noses her cheek. Alana’s thighs hit the cold marble, shivering at the contrasting temperature. The tip of his fingers find her skin again, climbing up the goosebumps, driving under the hem. 

Alana’s own hands bury in the mess of hair at the nape of his neck. Black nails dig into the unruly locks, tugging vaguely. She breathes with him, the only surrounding melody in this musicless room. What a strange feeling to be so thoroughly abandoned by distractions. 

Tired of wasting time, Matty grabs her thighs, throwing her carelessly on the marble countertop. Her legs spread wide, welcoming him in the middle of her, black heels kicking beside his knees. Hands rise to her waist, trailing greedily over her skintight dress. “Fuck, you’re hot.” 

Alana grins. Compliments are always the worst moves, climbing up to her head and loosening whatever miraculous hold he had on it. She leans away against the gray tiles of the wall, cheeky and devilish, fingers slipping from his mane to the muscles of his shoulders. “Say that again.” 

Matty tries to dip for a kiss instead, but she dodges easily, turning her head into her shoulder. He groans at her childish antics, digging his nails into her ribs. “You’re fucking annoying.” 

“‘S not what I asked.” 

Matty buries his face in her offered neck, leaving wet kisses as he scales up her jaw, up her cheeks. Alana giggles, wrinkling her nose, shifting in her seat. “You’re beautiful,” Matty finally whispers in her ear, gently biting the lobe. She hums, nodding at him. Roughly, he warns, “And if you keep playing these games, I’ll leave your ass so red you won’t be able to sit for days.” 

The threat should make a spike of anxiety hit her. Instead, languid fire pools at her stomach. She moans, closing her eyes, pushing her hips further into his. The angle is a little awkward, just slightly too high to really get anything working. She manages to roll her pleading hips on his belt buckle. 

“Greedy thing,” Matty tsks. “So fucking impatient.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re all talk.” 

Matty scoffs. “You’ve got a death wish.”

Alana flutters her eyelashes at him, pouting. “I thought you could handle me.” 

He groans, hands burrowing back into her skirt. Calloused fingers grab at her hips, digging into the black lace of her panties. He drags it out slowly, smirking down at her as Alana scoops herself up to help him. A brief ceasefire, just because he knows all the parts of her to press into. 

She giggles in his open mouth, finding him again, embarrassingly giddy. Thrill beats in her veins, cunt throbbing for him, for the good part of this relentless chess match. He kisses her indulgently, shitty grin undeniable against her lips. Alana doesn’t even have it in her to care. 

In the corner of her eyes, she sees Matty shove the lacy thing in his pocket. She releases his lips like he’s burned her, scowling petulantly. “You have to give those back. I’m running out of underwear.” Every time they fall back into this poisonous push and pull, Alana loses a pair of her favorite lingerie, forgotten in the endless pockets and sheets of Matty Healy. She’d consider going commando just to spite him if he wouldn’t like it so much, love knowing he’s gotten under her skin, made her change some known habit. 

Of course, Matty shakes his head with a teasing grin. “No.” 

“At least buy me new ones.”

He cocks his head, considering her. “Are you gonna try them on for me?”

Alana rolls her eyes, just a little bit turned on at the idea of it. “You’re such a boy.” 

Cockily, he racks her to the edge of the countertop, finally pressing her against his hard cock. Alana gasps at the sinful feel, eyes rolling back for completely different reasons. He grinds into her, the rough material of his trousers rolling against the most sensitive part of her. A traitorous whine leaves her lips; she bites it shut just a little too late. 

Matty whispers smugly, “I’m a man.”

What a fucking douchebag. Alana can’t handle this back and forth he coaxes out of her, always swaying between burning anger and choking desire like the world’s most on-beat metronome. 

She gracefully lets him have this one. Doesn’t even come up with a jab or a glare in bitter answer. Of course, that might be because he’s sailing up her thighs, thumb pressing into her clit as jaw-dropping relief climbs up her spine. Her head falls against the backsplash, lips parted, rolling her hips against his fingers as he circles lazily at her. 

He’s fucking perfect. She wants to cut his fingers clean off, curse them for ever making her feel this way. Peeking her eyes open, Alana swears he knows this, gathering a pool of her arousal to smear it over her bundle of nerves. She gasps in the quiet air, uselessly kicking her feet. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Matty says in wonder, eyes locked to the way she grinds for him, dripping on the black marble. 

“First time making a girl wet?” Alana tries to brat, but it comes out weak between two moans. 

He smirks condescendingly at her, tracing her swollen lips with the tip of his free hand, coating her chin with tacky lipgloss. “We both know the answer to that.” 

Without warning, he thrusts two fingers into her. It’s embarrassing how quickly her cunt welcomes him home, insides rearranging to make room for him dutifully. Her face scrunches, crying against his jaw. 

“Fuck, Matty.” 

“Yeah?” He arches an eyebrow, curling his hand to draw a feverish wave of ecstasy out of her. 

She grips his shoulders, pushing the jacket off of them, trying to sink her claws into anything. He’s relentless between her legs, thrusting and circling and working magic. Pressure builds inside her abdomen. She's mewling in his neck, panting in his ear. 

Matty stares down at her in hunger. He’s got her right where he wants her, Alana knows this. But why does he keep watching her like he’s about to rip into her throat? Smug and dangerous and voracious? 

An inexplicable strike of nerves hit her. His fingers dip into her faster, swiping at her clit. The cold sink and his warm body and the feel of his rough fingers inside of her are too much. Pathetic moans spill from her lips, overflowing out of her. She wrinkles her face closed, then forces it open again. Just to keep an eye on him, on his flexed arm as he wrecks her from the inside. Bliss threatens the edges of her. She tastes it on her tongue 

Alana cries, “Are you gonna make me come?” It’s pathetic to ask. She’d demand it in normal circumstances, holding onto his arm, a ruinous hand over his own guiding him into her sopping cunt. 

But— She left him hard and sticky last time, screaming after her as she touched up her lipstick. And now he’s looking down at her like he’s got her exactly where he wants, brain melting out of her ears, begging for him.

He leans into her with a trickster smile, licking his teeth. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Never.”

He pumps harder inside of her, adding a third finger. The world blurs around Alana. She screams, digging her nails under his white shirt. Right—

Matty thrusts out of her as quickly as he entered. A guttural cry rips from her throat, head banging on the wall from the stolen orgasm. Soaked fingers fall limply on her thigh, drying the slick on her skin. He grins, smacking her cheek with a sweet kiss. 

“You fucking asshole,” Alana bites, out of breath, fury swirling around her dazed head. 

“What?” He finds her lips next, catching them with a biting kiss. “Were you close?” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“I’d like to watch you try.” 

Matty pushes the cups of her dress down, revealing her tits, flushed and peaked for him. He twirls two fingers around her nipple, greedily watching as another wave of pleasure hits her, as the uncontrollable rage smothers for ecstasy. 

Alana is half-pissed to lose that sharp sense of anger, something to strike through the blur of him, to hold onto. Pissed that he can melt away all her hatred, make her putty in his expert hands. 

He dives for her breasts, biting and licking and sucking on them like a starved man. Muted pain stretches over her chest. Alana racks a hand through his sweaty curls, gasping. 

“Are you gonna ask nicely?” Matty whispers, starting that torturously cycle on her clit again. “I like when you ask all sweet and desperate.” Alana shakes her head, sloppily kissing at his jaw as he teases a finger over her entrance again. “Come on,” he chuckles lowly. “Beg for it.” 

“Screw you,” Alana bites, legs spreading wider for him in complete contradiction. 

“Yeah, I bet you want me to.” 

Matty dips a finger inside of her, pumping slowly, unbothered by her rushing him. Her hands are everywhere on him— the mane of his black hair, the cut of his jaw, the buttons of his shirt, undone by her sloppy hands, the muscle of his working arm, the belt at his hips. Pressing and clawing and tugging at him, pleading with a silent hand to work faster. 

He’s uninterested in listening, especially when her mouth still refuses to grant him the sweet nothings she always moans for him. His pace is steady and consistent, entirely not enough. She smacks the counter uselessly. 

“You’re the worst,” Alana whines, head flopping around her neck. Tension builds meticulously slow inside of her. She throbs around his finger, wishing for more, but he continues to deny her.  

“I just want you to be good for me,” Matty breathes, holding her head up with a heavy hand. 

“Just fuck me, Matty.” 

Trying to speed it along, Alana pounces on his belt buckle, frantically trying to undo it with trembling fingers. It’s a messy affair; he pries them away easily. His jaw clenches, clearly unhappy with her. He exhales through his nose. The air grows electric. Alana’s pussy shamefully clenches around him.

Matty is a fucking sight. She desperately wishes it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t perfectly sculpted to fit around her stained palms. A fallen angel crashed to Earth just to lick the vodka and red off her lips. 

“Can’t you ever listen?” His hand moves again, slithering around the front of her throat. He presses meanly at the sides, blood rushing away from her head. Alana’s lips part, but only quiet spills from them. “That’s all that ever shuts you up, isn’t it?” 

Alana laughs gleefully at his anger, managing a choked, “Not even,” just to spite him. He digs into her arteries, surely leaving a constellation of bruises for her to cover up. 

“Fine, princess,” Matty grunts. “We’ll do it your way.” 

In a second, he’s got three fingers back inside of her, fast and hard, curling just right. It’s miraculous how he manages to be everywhere inside and outside of her, how he drowns her in the feel of him. 

Her head disconnects from her neck. She gasps for air, purring in their shared breaths. Euphoria coils around her belly, hot and sticky and so, so close. Sweet oblivion. She barely remembers their names, barely remembers what—

“Fucking hell, Matty,” Alana screams, slapping his shoulder with no force, missing his gone fingers. “Just— Just let me come.” 

“Brats don’t deserve orgasms. I thought you learned your lesson.” 

Matty takes a clinical step away from her. Breathing harshly, she tries to reattach herself to the firm reality that exists around her and not this dreamed-up land the cliff of a shattering climax brings her to. 

He’s so proper, still dressed while her dress bunches useless around her waist. So put together as she drools and drips and pants for him, unhinged and unmade. How fucking embarrassing. 

She’d lash at him in retaliation, bring him down to her dirty level, make him feel crass inside. She has the urge to on the tip of her tongue, feels the burn all the way to her throat. 

But what would Matty give her in return? Not what she wants. Not what she craves. 

God, Alana hates when she has to fucking listen. 

“Matty,” she sings, finding the lapels of his shirt and tugging him back into her. She flutters her eyelashes innocently at him, licking her lips. “I’m sorry.” He snorts at her. It’s another bruise to heal tomorrow. “Please, I mean it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She grabs his cheek with one hand, kissing the other one religiously. “Fuck me. Please, please, Matty, fuck me. I need you.” 

With her free hand, she coaxes him back between her legs, spreading his long fingers over her sopping hole. “It’s all for you. It’s always just for you.” She licks his jaw, biting his earlobe. “You’re the only one who can make me feel this way.” 

Alana presses his fingers into her entrance. They enter her together, a delicious stretch that has her sighing in relief. It’s crowded and nasty and, oh, my fucking god, she’s fingering herself with fucking Matty Healy. 

He seems to be thinking the same whirlwind of thoughts, locked gaze on the spectacle of them between her thighs, working together for perhaps the first time ever. 

Alana puppeteers him, pumping their joined fingers together. She’s quick to drive herself to the edge, already so restless and aware and turned on, constantly teetering the cliff he refuses to give her. She knows her best spots anyway, knows how to get herself off quick and easy. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” Matty asks, still reveling in the sight of them. Alana nods eagerly. “Are you sure?” 

He rips their fingers out of her again. Alana smothers a sob, pain tingling the tips of her. She wants it so badly. 

Matty sucks her wet fingers clean, twirling his tongue around her metal ring. “Come on, Alana. Don’t you trust me?” She shakes her head childishly.

She thinks she might go insane. How fitting, completely going off her rockers because of Matty fucking Healy. Her entire body is in a frenzy, feverish and electrified, buzzing with stolen orgasms. He could blow on a bitten nipple and she’s half convinced she’d come on the spot. 

But he’s not going to, is he? Alana pouts pitifully to herself, cursing the chess games she plays and then has to suffer from. She knows she put herself in this situation, pushed him too far and now has to watch as he whips back tenfold like a tense elastic. 

All she can do is follow along, pleading and praying and begging for a release he’s just not giving her. 

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Matty coos. 

“Please. Please, I can’t—” Alana shakes her head. “I’m so close. Please, let me come.” 

He racks two hands through the tangled mess of her hair. “You’re so pretty when you beg. If only they could hear you. If only they knew how fucking pathetic you are for me.” 

Alana cries, nodding just to please him, “I am. I am.” She throbs around nothing. “Fuck me, please.” 

Matty pouts at her. “See, it’s not so hard.” 

He pushes her from her perch on the countertop, catching her as her legs tremble beneath her weight. He leaves her no time to adjust to gravity again, turning her hips around and bending her over the sink. 

She gasps at the cold feel of the marble on her tits. His hand presses strongly between her shoulder blades. Alana manages to throw a look back his way, mesmerized by the way he undoes his buckle with one hand, by the strings of curls falling over his forehead, by his swollen, red lips parting as he pants. 

By his cock as he pushes his trousers just down enough to reveal it, hard and leaking, swerving just right. 

Alana bites her lip, eyes rolling at the sheer idea of it. 

“‘Gonna fucking ruin you,” he mutters more to himself than her. 

Of course, she can’t stop herself from breathing back, “Haven’t managed to yet.” 

He tsks, spanking her naked ass. It rings deliciously down her leg. “Can’t ever stop bratting.” She giggles giddily, shaking her head. 

Matty grabs himself by the base, guiding himself between her thighs. His tip rubs at her dripping entrance, still teasing her when she’s near ready to explode from the lack of him. 

“Matty…” Alana warns. 

He chuckles. “God, you’re impatient.” He thrusts into her, bottoming out. 

A scream rips out of her throat. Alana slams her hand against the counter. How fucking right he fits, curving just perfectly inside of her. She bites her tongue, bliss loosening all her tense muscles. 

No matter how fucking shit this thing with him is, this, him inside of her, will always be holy. 

Matty grabs her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and pounds into her. He has a wild, brutal rhythm going on, sliding in and out of her before she can register any of them, until all she knows is to moan, pleases and so goods and mores falling off her lips before she can think them. 

His skin slaps against her, the rough leather of his belt hitting her ass with each stroke. Mostly, he’s silent for once, too. Pretty, mean words robbed from his throat as he grunts and whines openly. How victorious it makes Alana feel, drowning in the sounds of him like he’s not invading every inch of her. Like she’s won. 

Her tongue burns. Ecstasy weeps down her spine. She clenches around him, again and again. “Matty—” She warns, out of breath. She’s learned her lesson. “Matty, I’m—” 

“I know, baby.” He whispers hotly, driving into her faster. “What a good girl. Are you gonna say please?” 

“Please,” she yells, face scrunching, cunt throbbing as she—

Her walls close around nothing. Alana chokes at the lack of him, too sudden and too quick for her to register until it’s too late. Matty robbed her of an astronomical orgasm again. 

She lays there pitiful, pillaged of all fight. Her cheeks feel wet and scratchy and— oh, God, she’s actually crying. 

“Oh, baby,” Matty coos, taking her arms and dragging her into the warmth of his body. Her head rolls on his shoulder, letting him play her like his favorite ragdoll. He wipes at her tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“It’s too much.” 

“You can handle it.” He grabs a handful of her tits, using his other hand to guide her vision to the bathroom mirror. “Look at you,” he whispers. “Look how fucking beautiful you look.” 

Alana’s hair is a nest, pretty layers tangled around her face. Her face is flushed; eyeliner dripping down her eyes, lipstick smearing her chin, cheeks red from leftover blush and those pathetic tears. Her chest is blotched scarlet, freckles of growing bruises littering her skin. She’s a mess. 

Yet, Matty looks at her with devotion. I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful. 

He works slowly into her. His hips grind against her ass, deliciously reverbing in her cunt. Just this is enough to send burning ecstasy down her limbs. It’s this heady mix of pure pleasure and the striking fear that he won’t let her have it that reigns over her head.

Matty makes heavy eye contact in the reflection of the mirror. Pupils dark and penetrating, watching her every hitched breath with fascination. He wants her so much, it chokes her. 

His strokes grow faster. Alana whimpers, gripping his arm, terrified of the orgasm building inside of her. She’s run out of words to beg with. All there’s left is pleading eyes, still wet with tears. 

Matty sees the message loud and clear. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Trust me. You have to trust me.” 

Alana shakes her head. Trusting him is an impossible task, bigger and grander than he’s ever demanded of her. She can’t. She can’t let herself. 

He snaps inside of her, cruel and relentless, building her back to that epic cliff. He noses the side of her neck, moaning over and over, “Just trust me. Come on, baby. You have to trust me.” He licks her cheek, shushing in her ear. "Just trust me. Just trust me."

She thinks it’s the meanest he’s ever been with her. Demanding her to trust him at her most vulnerable when it’s him— and it’s her— and she can’t— and she has to. 

He's irredeemably cruel. Doesn't he know that he's asking the world of her? How can he ask her to just trust him?

Still, that incessant burning edge. Pression building in her stomach. He presses over her belly, cooing, “Pretty girl.”

She wants it so bad. She wants him so bad. He'll give it to her. She just has to believe that he'll—

Her face scrunch and—

Wiping waves of oblivion. Her head falls into his shoulder, jaw growing slack. Hot, white pleasure strikes the deepest parts of her. Her fingertips buzz, oxygen just a little sweeter, just a little lighter. 

Her brain loses all coherent thoughts. She’s a mess of burning fire, licking up her limbs, screaming uselessly Matty, Matty, Matty. It’s all her heart can chant, crashing down a cliff. She smashes to the ground, gracelessly and furiously. Doesn’t stick any kind of landing; just pure, unfiltered ecstasy. 

This is why Alana falls into him all the time. Why she keeps this ridiculous tango, choking and poisonous. For the momentary relief of not existing, of just being a body in his skillful hands. She purrs, relieved of any burden, relieved of him, even.

Matty follows quickly after her, spilling inside of her with the sweetest moans she’s ever heard. She laughs happily, gravity still very far from her. 

He lingers inside of her, dropping his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily against her naked skin. 

“Fuck, Alana.” 

“Fuck, Matty.” He chuckles, rubbing his forehead lazily against her. Alana peeks one eye open, nervously watching the ruins of them after their catastrophic pass through each other. “We’re a mess,” she laughs.

It’s always strangely like this when they’re done. Light and breezy. Easy. 

Matty smirks, kissing her shoulder. “Mostly you.” 

She slaps him, laughing an offended gasp. “Shut up!” 

He thrusts out of her. Cum leaks down her thighs, which only makes her vaguely blush. Matty tucks himself back in his trousers, buckling his belt. He works at his half-unbuttoned shirt next, then his forgotten jacket kicked at their feet. Alana watches him solemnly. 

When he’s done with himself, he turns her back to him. With gentle fingers, rough at the tips but oh so careful with her, he lowers the skirt of her dress, raising the cups over her bare breasts again. It’s weird to have him like this. Sort of sweet. 

He kisses her nose, then smiles ruefully. “See ya.” 

Alana frowns as he steps away from her. “What? That’s it?” 

He looks back at her, tightening his tie. He arches a bored eyebrow. “What? Did you want to suck my dick clean?” 

Alana’s lips part in affront. Fucking Matty Healy. Asking her to trust him just to slap her in the face. She can't believe she considered him any kind of sweet. Considered them anything but an unwatchable forest fire spreading in front of their very eyes.

“Only to bite it off,” she spits, fists clenching in anger. 

He smirks. “Kinky.” He opens the door, stepping through. It slams behind him. 

It’s dark and cold in the bathroom. Alana crosses her arms, craving a drink and a cigarette. God, she’s a fucking mess.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 22 - Prompt: Rough @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 907 words

<<<Previous Post OR Start Here

Remus smirked at last night’s texting conversation with Sirius, which was temporarily interrupted by Regulus and James.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: I disagree. The Greeks may be visionaries, but the Romans were revolutionaries.

Remus: Just because they built fancy streets and aqueducts?

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: Their infrastructure lasted centuries!

Remus: So? They plagiarised their entire religion and stole both of those concepts from other cultures.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: They improved them!

Remus: That’s hardly objective evidence.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: It doesn’t aldnbnsmzm.,,

Remus: Are you okay?

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: omg u r talking ancient civ shite

Remus: ?

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: This is pathetic. Both of you are twats.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: be nice reg

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: ✨No.✨

Remus: Both of you stfu and give Sirius back his phone.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: This is an intervention. Grow a pair and shag already.

Remus: Like you & James? Go on, let’s hear all about it.

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: Piss off.

Remus: Slag. What did you do to Sirius?

Padfoot’s Dad🐶: James is sitting on him. He says that he’s very wiggly.

Remus: Tell Sirius to call me when he’s free.

He hadn’t heard from Sirius since, which he assumed meant that they confiscated his phone during their rather rough “intervention.” It amused him to see Regulus was still a menace even after James won him over. Sirius’s silence was less so.

After a quick check of social media revealed that the Black brothers were at a familiar pub, Remus hauled himself off of his sofa and showered. He’d call Lily on the way. She was usually up for a night out. If nothing else, he would get to watch Sirius dance again. That was worth the effort.

When he followed Lily into the pub, the bass pounding through the speakers slapped him upside the head. It was loud. Lily clapped excitedly, then dragged him toward the bar.

“Love this song!” she shouted over the din.

Remus recognised it as one by Billie Eilish and shook his head. Lily enjoyed any pop song that she could dance to, but sassy lyrics sucked her right in. He was just glad that she didn’t demand he dance with her. No one wanted that level of awkward on the dance floor.

After he’d bought the first round, Lily disappeared into the crowd with the promise to check in every hour. It was their standard protocol. Remus had a tendency to wander off and forget that she drove him here, after a few rounds.

“Remus!” Mary called, waving as she made her way through the crowd.

He grinned and waved back. Mary was a uni friend that never went back home. She and Lily clicked right away and had been nearly inseparable ever since. By the time she reached him, he’d already ordered her a dirty martini.

“Thank you, love! If you’re here, Lils must be around?”

“Yeah, she just headed that way,” he said, pointing her toward the DJ. “Are you here on your own?”

Mary shook her head, her glossy halo of dark curls bouncing freely. “No, Alice and Tillie are with me. Over there.”

He followed her hand to the row of booths along the wall and was delighted to find Sirius, James, and Regulus chatting with the girls. That was too convenient to dismiss. Remus followed Mary to the booth and listened closely as she explained their plan for the evening.

“After here, we’re heading downtown to the Grim, then to Frank's Place to sober up.”

“Good plan.”

Mary bounded ahead of him and sidled up to Alice, then plopped in her lap. When Remus reached the table, James waved enthusiastically, then scooped Regulus up one-handed and slid over to free up a seat. Regulus didn’t even break eye contact with his brother as he settled onto James’s thighs. Sirius was chatting animatedly when he slid in next to James, but then stopped mid-sentence and stared.

“Remus?” he said, blinking rapidly. “What are you doing here?”

“Lily and I come by regularly.” Remus turned and pointed out the redhead, who had joined a group of girls in a dance circle. “We usually meet up with Mary at some point.”

Mary nodded. “Lils drags him out of his flat at least once a week.”

“But last week, she came alone.”

“No, she didn’t. I was here,” Remus said, shaking his head. He pointed to a booth on the other side of the club.

Sirius groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

“Caught the Sirius and Lily show, did you?” James teased, leaning in to bump Remus’s shoulder. “It was certainly something, wasn’t it?”

Remus hid his smirk behind his drink. It was something alright. She and Sirius were both pissed and grinding on each other pretty intensely, which was hot enough on its own, but then Mary joined them. He’d stayed hidden in a back booth to hide his tenting trousers.

“You said I wasn’t that bad!” Sirius accused, jabbing James’s shoulder.

Regulus swatted his brother away with a threatening look when James winced. “That’s his sore arm, you prick!”

“It wasn’t bad. Just a little…”

“A little nothing, James!” Mary chimed in, shimmying her shoulders. “It was very sexy!”

Sirius was clearly mortified, though Remus couldn’t understand why. He spent the entire evening wishing he had an ounce of Sirius’s rhythm and even a smidge of Lily’s courage.

What I wouldn’t give to be in her shoes that night.

Next Part>>>

[popcorn-plots]

midnight snack

Stephen sipped at his cocktail, watching the scene before him. It wasn’t much, just a few people crowded in the top deck, swaying to the last song of the night. The inky black water was silent a few stories beneath them, cold wind rustling Stephen’s hair. There were one or two other people at the cafeteria with him, one obviously tipsy and the other nearly asleep on their feet. Sometimes, Stephen liked to speculate on their stories – who they were, what got them to this point. Right now, he was too tired.

It was either listening to the too-loud music with a martini in hand, sitting alone in the cold night air, or going back to his room where nightmares lurked at every corner. Despite the exhaustion, Stephen preferred the martini.

The music stopped and the DJ shouted something unintelligible over the speakers. The tired man near him wobbled down the stairs, drunk girl in tow. Someone cursed. Stephen finished his drink and set it down.

He thought about ordering another one, but the cafeteria was bound to be closing soon – it was 2 AM – and he didn’t feel like getting drunk. Drunk meant the nightmares couldn’t wake him up. He felt a little bad for leaving Christine alone in the room, but she had always been a deep sleeper.

There were footsteps on the stairs and a voice. “Hey, Stranger”

Stephen looked up. Tony Stark was standing above him. “Stark.”

“What are you doing up?” Stark asked.

“What are you doing up?” Stephen responded. Stark laughed and Stephen couldn’t help but grin. He had hated the man for most of his career, and for the first few days of the cruise, but he couldn’t help but admit that there had been some sort of chemistry between them (after his initial disbelief that Tony Stark, of all people, was on his cruise ship). Christine and Pepper hit it off immediately and after a few drinks and meals together, Tony and Stephen had settled on light banter instead of huge arguments. For their Scary Female Friends, they decided.

“Nightmares.” Stark finally admitted. “Mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all. Sit away.” Stark chuckled and sat down. There was a long silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. “Nightmares for me, too. Even in paradise, they still haunt me.” For a moment, Stephen wished he had another martini. In a moment of inspiration, he asked Stark if he wanted one.

“No thanks. Three years sober tomorrow.” Stark explained. Stephen hummed.

Another silence fell between them and Stephen looked down at his hands. He shivered slightly, the chill having finally penetrated his nightshirt. Stark sighed. “I… there’s a lot of evidence that prove that sleeping with someone–”

“If you’re asking if you can fuck me, Stark, the answer is yes. You’re handsome, and while part of me still hates you, another part of me enjoys your company and… I’m intrigued.”

Stark laughed and held up a finger. “Firstly, call me Tony.”

“Then call me Stephen.”

“Secondly, I’d have to buy you dinner before. Sex is a third-date kind of thing. I’m a gentleman, not a monster.”  Stephen raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep the blush away from his face at the fact that Star– Tony didn’t exactly deny his sex accusation. 

“Thirdly, I was saying that studies have shown that sleep quality improves when you literally sleep with a partner. I was going to say that while we haven’t been friends for that long, we've established that we both have nightmares and maybe we could give that a shot and see what happens.”

Stephen took a second to think. “Then you'd better ask me out first, douchebag.”

Tony laughed. It was louder this time, more free and a lot more contagious. Stephen began to chuckle as well, until they were both nearly howling with laughter. Tony had to wipe tears from his eyes before he could respond. 

“Fine." Tony slid onto one knee in front of Stephen's chair, cupping his hands in the air as if he was proposing. “Stephen Strange, will you go out with me and find some weird cruise ship sandwiches so I can literally take you to bed?”

Stephen pretending to fan his face, grinning. “I would be honored.”

Tony grinned, stood up, and held out his arm to help Stephen up. Arm in arm, they made their way to the food bar.

The next morning, Stephen woke up secured in Tony’s arms, never wanting to leave. He hadn’t had a single nightmare, and he started the day refreshed and relaxed for the first time since high school. Tony admitted that he felt the same way and they found breakfast together -- without their Scary Female Friends this time.

Then they got lunch, then dinner, and exchanged numbers. Stephen finally got the fucking he had talked about a week later and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Ten years later, Tony proposed on that same cruise ship, at 2 AM, and with a cucumber sandwich (he proposed again in Italy, on the Rialto Bridge, with an actual ring). Stephen never slept alone again.

Ao3

[onthewaytosomewhere]

hi mel!! espresso martini and firstprince pls 💜

Leeks luv, this was so fun to right and not at all what i thought i'd write when i first saw ur prompt come through

but i took advantage of @stellarmeadow making this same request to write something a bit longer and hope ya both like it!!

Henry is short a bartender tonight, so he’s behind the bar himself. His years spent with Pez as a friend have made it so he can make most drinks, and they have a recipe book on the back of the bar for whatever he doesn’t know. Of course, Alex, his newest hire, seems to be more than competent at making the drinks Henry doesn’t know. He keeps a steady stream of chatter and flirtation with everyone around, and Henry almost drops the whiskey bottle in his hand when that flirtation is turned on him. He knows that, as the bar owner, he should not be in any way lusting over his employees, but there is something about Alex that he can’t get past.

He goes to take the next order, and the women attempt to flirt with him, and that really is the most awkward part of being behind the bar for him. They order, “Four espresso martinis, please, and maybe make one for yourself and join us?”

Henry is turning to the back bar for the book. He assumes he knows how to make this, but he’s going to make sure there isn’t something he needs to add that he doesn’t know. He has the shaker glass in hand, and when Alex is there taking it out of his hand, he says, “I got this. Watch and learn the ways of the espresso martini.” Henry is watching, and so are the women; hell, everyone anywhere near the bar is. Alex is so competent he has everyone watching him.

Henry has noticed that Alex is there whenever someone has attempted to flirt with him tonight, helping get them on their way faster. If he didn’t know better, he'd almost think Alex is one of those guys who thinks he’s the only one everyone should be flirting with. He knows that’s not the case; he’s seen him work with all of his other bartenders, and well, it’s the way this job goes; they all get flirted with, and Alex has never stepped in to interrupt that before. Of course, Henry would prefer they don’t flirt with him, so he’s got no problem letting Alex take that part of the job, but it’s just weird.

Alex finishes the espresso martinis, pours the small amount left into a fifth glass, and hands it to Henry, “What do you think?”

Henry takes a sip as Alex is processing the payment for the women. He’s impressed; he’d much rather have tea any day, but this espresso martini is better than any he’s ever had. “This is amazing; what do you do differently? There’s something there I can’t quite place.”

Ales chuckles and turns to look at him. With a wink, he says, “Secret ingredient, but I  guess I can tell you, Alex takes the jar of cinnamon that Henry didn’t even know they had and shakes it as he places it on the back bar, “A little cinnamon, just a touch makes everything in that drink pop.”

“Huh,” Henry licks the drop of the drink lingering there on his lips and sees Alex’s eyes follow it; maybe he’s not alone in his feelings, not that he would act on them, but having a bit of a crush is fun. “It’s wonderful.” Henry turns to help the next customer, placing the glass by the sink to be washed so he doesn’t lose himself in staring into Alex’s eyes. It may be fun to have a crush, but he will never act on it. If he stays there looking at Alex this close to him, he may be tempted to lean over the space between them and kiss him, and well, that cannot happen.

The night passes quickly, the perfect blend of busy but not overwhelming, and before he knows it, the last call has been called and dealt with, and the house lights are turned up while the DJ plays some song to usher everyone out the door. It’s just him and Alex cleaning the bar up. The couple waitresses they had tonight cleaned up the tables and righted all the chairs, calling good night as they walked out the door, ensuring it stayed locked behind them. He turns to put some dried glasses on the back bar, and Alex is standing there in front of him, raised eyebrow, hands on his hips, in a way that draws Henry’s eye to that impossibly trim waist. For a moment, he contemplates sucking in his gut, but it doesn’t matter; Alex knows him, and well, it’s not like he needs to attempt to impress him anyway; he can’t start something with an employee.

“So,” Alex starts, “Henry, I need to know if I should quit this job or just get over this crazy-ass crush I have on you.”

Henry’s mind stutters, and he gets out, “I’m sorry, what?!”

“I like you, Henry; I have an incredibly ridiculous crush on you, have since the day you interviewed me. I told myself it would go away, but it’s just becoming more. I may be falling for you, and I need to know if there is a chance you may reciprocate. I know you won’t start something with an employee, so I need to know if it’s finally time to take the job offer I have at the law firm down the street or if I just need to get over this and can keep working here.”

“Um …” Henry is a bit flabbergasted, but when Alex reaches over, takes the glasses from his hands, and places them on the back bar, moving closer, he tries to find the words, but all he can do is nod.

“I quit, Henry; sorry to leave you in the lurch, but see, I have to kiss you now.” Alex closes the gap between them, going just slightly up on his tiptoes, and kisses Henry. It starts slow and chaste, but soon, Henry’s hand is in Alex’s curls, and Alex’s is resting at the dip of his waist, and they are kissing as if it is all that is sustaining them. Henry knows he can’t let this go any further tonight, but at this moment, Alex’s kisses are all he needs, so he reaches over and hits the light switch, plunging them into near darkness and making them invisible to anyone passing by. He wants to keep this moment with Alex for himself.