#in her good old Irish way

[thelingering]

My heart feels at home in the song Toora-Loora-Looral

it doesn't matter by whom, it could be (and is best by) my own dad and his beautiful singing voice

though I do prefer the Irish Tenors' version of it, but that's just because I was raised on that song

ah, a lullaby from my ancestral lands

and it's the most beautiful thing

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!!, use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me)

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Two

Elijah ‘Smokes’ truck rolled to a stop. He cut the engine, taking a moment to finish his cigarette before he entered the home he shared with Annie. He could smell her cooking from where he sat, mouth watering. He missed good ‘ol southern cooking, more specifically his wife’s cooking. Smoke tossed his cigarette bud and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that he purchased from Bo Chow before climbing out of his truck. Walking around to the back of the truck, he lifted the tarp and grabbed a wooden crate filled with Irish Beer and Italian Wine.

Smoke made the short walk to the house, ascending the front porch steps before sitting the crate down to open the door. He needed this. No more running away from his problems. He craved his wife in ways he couldn’t put into words. Smoke had a lot of making up to do, and he was a man of action and very few words.

Smoke could hear Ma Rainey playing from a phonograph in the drawing room. He went to let himself in but paused when he’d heard sensual laughter and soft moans. His body moved from the door, down the steps, and around towards the back of the house. He crept stealthily, slowing down when he’d heard his wife’s name in a voice laced with lust…

One hour before:

Amelia held a woven basked against her left hip while she picked a bundle of collards for dinner. Her curly ringlets swept over her face annoyingly. She blew hair from her lips after grabbing the last bit of collards. Amelia makes her way back to the house. She climbed the back steps and through the screen door.

Inside, Amelia looked at Annie who was busy preparing the catfish for frying.

“Got the collards. I’ll go wash ‘em.”

Annie held Amelia’s gaze, “Thank you, Lia.”

Amelia started rinsing the collards off. Annie found herself caught in a trance. Amelia was situated on her knees in front of a bucket of water on the back porch. The motion of Amelia’s hands. The way her curly auburn hair reminded her of cascading stems, twisted leaves, and red, lipstick-shaped flowers.

Annie broke the silence, “Busy day at the shop today.”

“Sure was. Made a good profit too.” Amelia replied.

“…Whatcha think of Smoke?”

Amelia wasn’t expecting that question from Annie. She glanced up through her lashes at her.

“He scares you?” Annie questioned.

Amelia gave Annie a half shrug, “I—He’s a little scary.”

Annie giggled, “A little?”

“He’s a gangster, Annie. Scary comes wit’ the job.” Amelia jokes.

“Smoke is tough, but deep, real deep…he’s a softy.”

Amelia smirked, “Sounds to me you’re his safe space.”

Annie finished prepping the catfish and checked on the frying oil. Amelia brought in the clean collards. Annie situated herself beside Amelia, helping her cut the collards. Amelia stole glances at Annie. Smoke’s coming back did affect Amelia. Ways she never imagined.

“Is this his favorite meal?” Amelia asked.

“Smoke love him some catfish and collards. Throw in some skillet cornbread you got ya’ self a sappy man. Feed him good and put his head between my bosom.”

Amelia laughed lightheartedly. She bumped her hip into Annie’s and Annie reclined her head against Amelia’s shoulder.

“He strikes me as a breast man—”

Amelia stopped herself from talking. She caught Annie smiling at her warmly. Visuals played over and over in her head of the way Smoke sucked on Annie’s bountiful breasts. Like he wanted to fit his entire mouth around all that heaviness.

“He an all up on me man…every inch of me.” Annie spoke with intensity.

Amelia was witnessing in real time the beautiful bond between them. A bond so strong.

“The way he looks at you, it’s just so…so…”

Amelia studied Annie’s face as she tried to convey her feelings.

“…So inspiring.”

Annie’s eyes fell to Amelia’s lips.

“…You saw us havin’ sex…didn’t you?”

Amelia turned away from Annie. She tried to think of a way to respond to her. Too embarrassed to admit it.

“It wasn’t my intention, Annie—I just…”

Annie’s hand pressed against Amelia’s back. Amelia peered into Annie’s eyes. The hand on her back dragged down to her hip and she found herself flesh against Annie. Just like she did Smoke in that Shack, Annie’s lips latched onto Amelia’s ear. Amelia held onto the wash basin to steady herself. Annie’s skillful lips kissing and nibbling on her ear made her legs all wobbly.

“…thing is, I saw ya’ watching, Amelia…I saw ya’ fingering my pussy…”

“Did Smoke—”

“Smoke don’t know nothin’.”

Annie forced Amelia to look at her with a tight hold on her jaw, so tight her lips puckered.

“What happened between us last night…I’ve been fightin’ all damn day to keep from touching ya’. Truth is…I can’t stop…and I won’t stop…”

Amelia melted. Annie stroked her pouty lips with her thumb before sinking it into Amelia’s mouth. Amelia sucked on Annie’s thumb, eyes closed, soft whimpers filling the room. Annie’s thumb slipped away, leaving behind a trail of spit.

“I–I can’t stop daydreaming ‘bout it, Annie. I want ya’ to taste me again…”

Amelia extended a hand and stroked Annie’s cheek with her fingertips. She got up on Annie, breast to breast, and slammed her lips into hers feverishly. The sound of frying oil popping and the insects of the night mingled with smacking lips and soft moans.

Annie groped Amelia’s thick behind through her dress.

“Fuck,” Amelia tongued Annie’s lips, “Let’s go to the room, look how wet I am for you…”

Amelia grabbed Annie’s left hand and snaked it between her legs. Annie stroked Amelia’s pussy through her panties. Soaking wet heat. Annie attacked Amelia’s neck while her fingers pinched her clit through the satin material.

Immediately, Annie could feel her own pussy cat dripping. She wanted so bad to bend Amelia over the wash basin, lift the back of her dress, and ravish her cooze until she cried. Cried for Annie to keep going, cried after each orgasm. Cried like a good little bitch.

Annie needed to stop. If she didn’t, she’d have to eat Amelia on every surface in that house.

“We gotta get this food cooking…”

Annie broke away from Amelia reluctantly. Amelia’s chest heaved up and down. She thumbed away spit from her bottom lip. Annie was right, Smoke could be here any minute. Annie started frying the catfish and Amelia busied herself with the collards. Still, she craved more from Annie.

Sneaky glances, bumping into each other, soft blues with its melancholy instrumental circulating throughout the small home, no matter how hard they tried, neither one of them could resist. Amelia swayed her hips to the rhythm, stirring the pot of collards just the same. Annie had just finished cooking all the catfish and now she was working on the skillet cornbread.

“Shit…”

Amelia glanced over at Annie mixing the cornbread batter. Some of the batter spilled over her hand and fell to the floor. Amelia watched Annie reach for a towel, but before she could use it to wipe her hand clean, Amelia appeared by her side, capturing Annie’s fingers in her mouth.

Annie was paralyzed with lust.

“Amelia…”

Her finger slipped from between Amelia’s pouty lips with a wet pop, “don’t want all that good batter to go to waste.”

Annie’s clit ached.

Amelia trailed Annie’s spit–covered finger down her neck until she circled it around her protruding nipples. Annie’s eyes glossed over with arousal at the sensation of Amelia’s stiff, brown nipples prominently visible through her khaki dress.

“Lia…they so hard…”

Annie regained control of her hands. She cupped Amelia’s breasts and caressed them in a circular motion. Amelia jutted her chest out for more, extending her neck and throwing her head back.

Annie exhales, “You so beautiful, Lia. So soft…so delicious…”

“Not as soft and sweet as you, Annie…”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Amelia stared deeply into her eyes, “A big, beautiful woman.”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Buttons undone, Annie smoothed the opening of the khaki dress from Amelia’s satiny, chestnut skin. Her cup bra gave her melons extra lift, fleshy mounds like soft pillows. One by one, Annie released a breast, and she caved at the sight of Amelia’s wrinkled areola and hardened nipples.

Annie wasted no time flicking her tongue over each bud with speed. She circled her arms around Amelia’s waist and made love to her nipples with her teeth, lips, and tongue. Amelia chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, watching Annie move back and forth between each breast. She picked it up a notch and spit on her nipples before tweaking them.

“Annie, I’m so sticky between my legs…you’re making me so weak…” Amelia cooed.

Annie tugged on Amelia’s nipples while sucking on her neck.

“I bet that fat pussy is nice and messy…I know it taste good…”

Amelia whimpered when Annie went back to sucking her nipples. Annie forced one hand down the front of Amelia’s dress and wiggled her hand into her panties.

Annie popped a titty from her mouth, “Damn, wasn’t lying about how sticky you are…c’mon, quick…”

Annie quickly helped Amelia out of her dress and panties. She guided her to the back porch and pushed her down onto a chaise. Amelia didn’t have time to spread her legs and bring her feet up because Annie beat her to it.

“You seein’ this?” Annie questioned with a quiver.

Amelia dropped her hooded eyes down between her thighs. She couldn’t believe how soaked her folds are. Like a succulent storing water. Annie didn’t waste another minute. She smacked her lips and suckled Amelia’s pussy with urgency.

“You needed this pussy in ya’ mouth again look how good ya’ eating it, Annie…”

Amelia palmed Annie’s head. Annie strummed her clit with the tip of her tongue.

“Fuuuck…oh, shit,” Amelia moans, “Annie…Annie…Annie…”

Annie’s magical hands shoved Amelia’s thighs back to open her up more. She slurped and lapped at her pussy lips and deeper. Not once did she come up for air. Annie dragged her nails down the back of Amelia’s thighs.

“I’m finna’ cum…”

Amelia stuck two fingers in her mouth to suppress her cries of pleasure. Annie sucked her clit like she was sucking the sweetest juices off. Amelia closed her thighs around Annie’s head.

Smoke remained in the shadows of the Mississippi night and surrounded by evergreen. He had a tight grip on the flowers he’d gotten for Annie. Smoke watched with a twitch of his eyes. Perfectly round and perfectly shaped breasts with brown nipples bounced back and forth. The face of his wife hidden between buttery smooth thighs. The sound of a tongue and the smell of pussy.

His muscles were stiff. Obsidian eyes unblinking. The sharpness of his jaw clenched. Smoke felt all the blood in his veins rush to his dick. Amelia’s face caught the light of the night and it was whimsical. She stroked Annie’s hair affectionately while riding her tongue.

Smoke sensed it. He had a good feeling that Amelia and Annie were fooling around. Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he didn’t know how to handle the way his body felt. A mixture of lust and envy. Lust for the both of them. Lust to taste Amelia off of his wife’s tongue. Lust to join.

Envy because what’s his is on her knees bringing another woman to climax. Envy because whatever they shared, he wanted a piece of. Smoke’s free hand grabbed onto his thick print and squeezed. Tweed material itched his palm. Fuck, he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Fuck, he wanted to release his big dick and play with it. The desperation lining his face and the way his tongue smoothed over his teeth, these women sent shockwaves of pleasure through him.

“Annie! I’m cummin’ for you!”

Smoke’s nostrils flared.

“Cum for me, good girl!” Annie praised.

Smoke couldn’t believe the way his dick bulged out.

There was soft laughter followed by Annie surfacing with a wet face and brown eyes drunk with arousal. Amelia cupped her face and flicked her tongue with Annie’s.

“Thank you for that,” Annie kissed Amelia.

“Always,” Amelia spoke against her lips.

They both stood and Annie helped Amelia with her dress. Smoke tip toed away from the yard and pressed his back against the side of the house. He rocked his head back, glancing up at the starry sky. The throb in his dick and balls wouldn’t go away. Kissing his teeth, he drew another cigarette and lit it. His hands shook slightly as he brought it to his full lips.

Amelia.

Her beauty reminded him of a fairy. Something ethereal and magical. Hypnotic. He’d felt it immensely the moment he laid eyes on her. Whatever it is, Annie was under her spell. He’d never known his wife to enjoy some pussy. He had to get himself together before he walked into that house. Shouldn’t be so hard, especially for a gangster with a reputation for violence.

Smoke remained outside for another ten minutes before making his way to the front of the house. He climbed the stairs and twisted the door knob. The door swung open with a creak.

Annie was busy in the kitchen while Amelia plates the table. She wore a different dress, a brightly colored floral dress with a lace–trimmed collar and sleeves. Her long, curly hair was styled in a chic and classic updo with pins. Smoke could tell it was a rush job, because some of the curls framed her face. Amelia’s eyes flicked to Smoke.

Annie looked radiant. She changed into a crushed velvet, dark green dress with chandelier earrings that matched. Her heels click–clacked against the floor boards. Amelia bent over to pick up a cloth that had fallen and the way her backside spread beneath her dress, Smoke’s dick pressed painfully against the seam of his pants. Annie caught his eye and she smiled brightly before making her way over to him. She was wearing her good bra. Those big titties bounced with each step she took.

Smoke gave her a faint smile, holding up the bouquet of flowers. Annie pressed a hand against her bosom and pouted her bottom lip.

“Smoke, these are beautiful!”

Annie accepted the flowers and puckered her lips for a kiss.

“They’re so pretty, Annie,” Amelia said with an elated voice.

Smoke accepted a kiss and then he slipped Annie some tongue. Annie tried to pull away but Smoke placed one strong hand on the back of her neck to keep her tongue in his mouth. The sweet twang of Amelia’s pussy still lingered. Smoke groaned in Annie’s mouth.

Amelia watched them intently while placing silverware on the table. She was absorbed in their intimacy. Smoke caught her eye, staring at her with intensity. Amelia broke her gaze and stroked hair from her face.

He growled.

“Behave,” Annie swatted his bicep, “Dinner is ready. Go clean ya’ hands first.”

Annie turned and Smoke tracked her hips with his eyes.

“Cut all that switchin’ out for I give our guest here a lil’ show.”

That seemed to peak Amelia’s interest. She tried to conceal a smile behind her hand.

“Down, boy,” Annie eyed Smoke up and down.

“Ain’t no boy…”

Smoke tried to stick his fingers in the cornbread. Annie slapped his hand away.

“Go wash ya’ hands, Elijah!”

Smoke pecked Annie’s cheek.

He disappeared to the wash basin.

“Bring anymore wine?” Annie asked.

“Did. It’s on the porch. I’ll go grab some—”

“I got it, Smoke. While you finish washin’ ya’ hands?”

Amelia appeared next to him with an eager smile. Smoke had to collect himself from getting lost in those doe eyes fringed with long lashes.

The very eyes his wife got lost in with a mouth full of pussy.

“Uh, no need, doll. They heavy…”

Smoke wiped his hands on a towel and slipped past Amelia, catching a whiff of her perfume.

Sweet like peaches.

Smoke eyed the table set up, noticing only three plates.

“Shit, forgot to tell ya’ll Stack comin’.”

“No biggie. I’ll put a plate out for ‘em.” Annie replied.

Smoke walked over the threshold and picked up the wooden crate filled with wine and beer. Amelia set up a place for Stack. She walked over to grab an extra chair, but Smoke picked it up before she could. Amelia looked up at him.

“No need, let a man do it.” Smoke said.

“��Course,” Amelia sauntered back to the table.

Smoke grabbed a bottle of wine.

I’ll put it in the icebox. I know how much you like it chilled.”

Annie brought the food over on serving trays.

Knock knock knock

The door opened.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Annie said with a laugh.

Amelia’s eyes danced between both men.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical.

This Stack man just entered the home with a jovial smile filled with deep dimples and golds on his teeth. His eyes sparkled with mischief and foolery.

Amelia gawked at him.

But…their personalities…their auras…vastly different.

Stack removed his red fedora.

“Annie! Sup witcha, woman?!”

“Stack.” Annie said with a smile.

She opened her arms and Stack hugged her tightly.

“Big bro,” Stack dabbed Smoke before pulling him in for a one–armed hug. They did a slick handshake and glided back into a snap, “Woooo, good to see ya’.”

“Just saw ya’ earlier,” Smoke said.

Stack took off his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack near the front door. His playful, lively eyes fell on Amelia.

Amelia gave Stack a shy wave. Stack strode forward, dapper gait drawing her in.

“Well, well,” Stack nibbled on the toothpick between his teeth and dragged his eyes over Amelia’s frame from head to toe with a tilt of his head, “Who this here, Annie?”

“My friend, Amelia,” Annie’s arm circled Amelia’s waist, “She came all this way from New Orleans to work wit’ me. I’m teachin’ her all I know about hoodoo.”

“She talk?” Stack questions with his brows pinched together and a twitch of his upper lip.

Smoke chuckled low, shaking his head at his brothers antics, “Chill now, Stack.”

“I’m only askin’.”

Stack held his hand out in greeting. Amelia eyed his hand with a slight lift of her brow before extending her hand with the back facing up. Stack wrapped his fingers around her.

“Amelia, huh?

“That’s right.”

Stack pushed the toothpick between his teeth to the side of his mouth. Cute little voice. Sounding like a princess in those fairytales.

“So, you do talk?”

Stack removed his toothpick and leaned in. With her hand still within his grasp, Stack puckered his plump lips and pecked Amelia’s hand like a true gentleman.

“Nice to meet ya’ gorgeous. Hope the Delta treatin’ you right.”

“Is. Thanks to Annie.”

Amelia smiled brightly. Stack stroked the back of her hand with his thumb before finally letting her go. Amelia fiddled with her fingers, darting her eyes away bashfully before swaying over to the table.

Smoke caught his brother’s eye.

Annie cleared her throat.

“Oh, let me clean these hands off.” Stack said.

He walked past the table, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips at the sight of all the food. Smoke pulled out Annie’s chair, and with one hand he pulled out Amelia’s chair. She curtsied before taking her seat. Stack finally joined them, unbuttoning the sleeves to his white shirt and rolling them up his forearms.

“Catfish, collard greens, cornbread, DAMN.”

They each took turns filling their plates.

“Amelia cooked the collards,” Annie shot her friend a look followed by a smile.

“Did she now? Let’s see what we got here…”

Stack and Smoke forked the collards in unison, not even realizing it. Amelia’s eyes danced between them with fascination. Smoke chewed slowly, eyes fixed on Amelia. Stack chewed with his eyes closed, shook his head, followed by a hum of delight.

“Baby girl…you put ya’ foot in this! Gahdamn…”

Annie nudged Amelia with her elbow. Amelia beamed.

Smoke nodded his head before scraping the side of his upper teeth with his tongue.

“They good, Amelia. Real good.”

Amelia twirled the fork in her hand with pride.

“Thank you, Smoke,” She glanced over at his twin, “Stack…”

“Forgot the wine…”

Smoke stood.

“You put a beer in there, Smoke?!”

“I gotcha,” Smoke continued out onto the front porch to grab the drinks.

Stack scarfed down the collards first, fork scraping the plate. Smoke returned and opened the wine, pouring the ladies two glasses full. He unscrewed the cap on the beer for Stack, sliding it across the table where his twin brother caught it with precision.

“Everythang alright, Annie?” Stack asked.

“Better,” Annie locked eyes with her husband, “happy you two made it back in one piece.”

Smoke cut into his catfish with his fork. He added a little hot sauce to it.

“I bet Chicago is nice,” Amelia chimed in, “skyscrapers, broadway…”

“Look nice. Still just the same as the south.” Stack said.

“Did you two stop by to see Sammie?” Annie asked.

Smoke nodded his head, “He good. Still got that guitar we gave ‘em. Daddy doin’ right by ‘em.”

Amelia nibbled on her cornbread drizzled with honey and butter. Stack cleared his plate and sat back to enjoy his beer. He couldn’t help but stare at Amelia. She could feel his eyes on her, looking across the table at him with a piece of cornbread between her fingers and hovering over her pouty lips.

“Amelia. Got a last name?” Stack questions.

“Broussard.”

“Pretty…”

Amelia coaxed the piece of cornbread into her mouth with her tongue. Stack continued to lay on the charm with his deep dimples and attentive eyes. He took a swig of beer as he stared down Amelia like she was the only person who existed.

Smoke glanced between the two of them, fingers digging into his pocket for a cigarette. He grabbed his last one and lit it. Annie sipped her wine and smiled at her husband. Smoke caught her looking and winked at her. Annie placed her hand on his thigh, caressing it.

“We never crossed paths?” Stack questioned Amelia with an expression of betrayal.

“No, Stack,” Amelia giggled genuinely, “Never.”

“You sure,” Stack pointed at her with a finger decorated with a gold ring, “Damn shame. Can’t believe this my first time seeing ya’. Annie, you been keepin’ her to ya’ self?”

Annie gave Stack a coy smile and then locked eyes with Amelia. Both of them looked away quickly, but Smoke was paying attention. He knew everything. She definitely is keeping Amelia to herself. Smoke leaned in to whisper in Annie’s ear.

“You got explaining to do later, baby…”

Annie cocked her head back and dropped her eyes to Smoke’s lips.

“Not as much explaining as you do, Smoke.” She quipped with a roll of her eyes.

Stack filled Amelia’s mason jar with more wine.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Anytime…”

Stack swept his hands down the front of his chest slowly, Amelia shyly pulled her attention to the last bit of food on her plate.

She loved Stack’s energy.

It excites her.

Some time passed and Duke Ellington Orchestra filled the drawing room. While Annie perched her big booty on Smoke’s lap, Stack twirled Amelia around like a merry go round, her dress spinning as she moved. Stack could jive! Amelia grabbed both of his hands and flailed her legs, laughed at Stack’s silly faces, and shook her hips.

Annie tapped her foot to the music. Smoke bobbed his head. Annie’s gyrating in his lap awoke the beast. He looked up at her. Annie felt him poking her rump. She picked up the pace of her hips, teasing him more.

“Annie…”

“What? You sticking me in the ass wit’ that dick.”

“Keep movin’ on me I can’t help it.” Smoke whispered.

“I felt that,” Annie was referring to Smoke making his dick jump, “Elijah…”

There was warning in her voice.

Stack exhaled, wiping sweat from his grow. Amelia fanned herself. Stack held Amelia’s waist as they swayed, hips pressed to each other’s and twin smiles on their faces.

“You the best fuckin’ dancer I ever seen.” Stack said.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Amelia bopped Stack on the nose with her finger, “And you a good time.”

“I try. Gotta make the most outta life with all the other bullshit goin’ on.” Stack replied.

Amelia snaked her arms around Stack’s shoulders.

“You got the sweetest eyes…mind if I call you Princess?”

Amelia chewed on her bottom lip and smoothed her hands down Stack’s chest.

“How much Irish beer you drank?” Amelia asked with a teasing smile, “that liquor got you sweet on me.”

“Not enough,” Stack peeled away from Amelia, “Let me grab some mo’!”

Amelia shook her head at Stack.

Smoke and Annie were dancing now. Amelia took a seat to cool off and removed her shoes. She massaged her left heel and flexed her toes painted red. Stack sought her out and took a seat next to her with a new beer. He slouched in his seat and swung his legs.

Smoke and Annie shared a passionate kiss in the middle of a slow waltz.

Amelia moved her hands up the back of her legs while flexing her ankles. Stack’s eyes were focused on her movements, studying her pretty toes.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Amelia teased.

“I’d take pictures of you any day. I got a camera back home.”

“So, photography ya’ hobby when you ain’t robbing banks and trains?”

Stack smirked with a single dimple.

“Sum’ like that. Whatchu like to do?”

Amelia pondered, “Reading. I love escaping from reality. Picture myself in a castle in the tallest tower…or going on an adventure…or falling in love…”

Stack studied Amelia. His beer was halfway through.

“We all need a lil’ break from the real, ya’ know?” Stack said.

“Yeah,” Amelia nudged Stack’a shoulder, “If ya’ ever need a good book to read, I’m ya’ girl.”

Stack licked his lips, “I’ll hold you to it, Princess.”

Stack and Smoke shared a cigarette on the front porch while talking closely to each other.

Annie and Amelia had just finished cleaning up. Amelia yawned into her hand. She felt lightweight and relaxed from all the wine.

“Had fun tonight?” Annie asked.

“It was wonderful, Annie. Best time in a long while.”

Amelia wiped her hands off with a towel while staring at the twins in deep concentration.

“Ya’ like Stack?”

Amelia looked at Annie, “He’s a good time. And he’s handsome.”

Annie glanced towards the door. Smoke and Stack had their backs turned. Annie slithered her way over to Amelia, dropping her head to her ear to whisper.

“Careful wit’ ‘em Moore men. They’ll turn your world upside down.”

Annie’s warm breath ghosted across Amelia’s cheek. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept her eyes forward.

“And it’s been a while since Nathaniel had ya’ right?”

Amelia clenched her thighs together.

Annie pecked Amelia on the cheek.

“Get you some rest. I’ll see ya’ in the morning.”

“Night, Annie.” Amelia said.

Annie disappeared into her room. Smoke heard the door shut and walked back inside followed by Stack. Stack shut the door behind him. Both men stared at Amelia. Smoke with an unreadable expression and Stack with a flirty smile. She looked away before heading to her room.

“I see ya’ later brother—”

“No, no, no. It’s late stay here.”

“I be aight—”

“Stack. Keep yo’ ass here, understand? Ya’ had too much to drink.”

Stack kissed his teeth, “Then where I’m a sleep, fool? On this hard as floor? In the truck? In your room—”

“Nigga—”

“You can sleep in my room.”

Smoke and Stack looked down at Amelia.

“There’s extra blankets and a pillow.”

“Hm,” Smoke eyed Amelia from head to toe, “See? Now ya’ got an excuse to stay.”

Smoke tapped Stack’s shoulder before backing away to his room. He left his twin brother and Amelia standing there.

Stack was wearing his white button shirt tucked into his pinstriped slacks. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone. A chain hung from his neck with a tiny circular dog tag from WWI. The same one Smoke wore.

“Well,” Stack ushered Amelia towards the room with his hand, “Lead the way, Princess.”

Amelia took slow strides towards the room. Inside, she grabbed extra blankets and one of the pillows from the bed.

“Aye, I got this,” Stack piled the blankets on the floor with the pillow, “I’ll give ya’ a second to change.”

Stack left the room and shut the door. Amelia opened the wardrobe in the room and picked out a lavender chemise with a matching robe. She undressed quickly, slipping on the chemise.

“Stack, you can come in,” Amelia climbed into bed.

The door opened and Stack peeked inside.

“All decent, Princess?”

“Yes,” Amelia slipped beneath the sheets.

Stack walked in, took off his shoes, and his shirt. Amelia chewed on her lip while her eyes swept over Stack’s burly frame. Bulging biceps, a thick yet toned torso, defined pecs. Stack tossed his shirt over a chair in the room and lowered to the floor. He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Amelia turned off the kerosene lamp, bathing the room in mostly darkness.

“Goodnight, Stack.” Amelia said.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

On the other side of the house, Annie watched her husband strip down to his underwear, the fabric of his boxer shorts riding up his well–muscled thighs. His mojo bag sat between his pecs along with dog tags that mirrored Stacks. He tied a pressing cap over his hair to make the brush wave style Stack did last longer.

Annie wore a champagne–colored night gown that left little support for her large and heavy breasts, but it was breathable. Her hair was wrapped in a white scarf. Smoke sat on the edge of the bed. Annie got onto her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders.

“What explaining I gotta do, Elijah?” Annie asked.

Smoke shut his eyes and licked his lips with one swipe of his tongue.

“You sure Amelia just your Hoodoo apprentice, baby?”

Annie huffed, “What? Whatchu mean?”

“Ya’ know what I mean, Annie.”

Annie paused.

“…Smoke…”

Smoke looked up at Annie over his shoulder. Annie couldn’t hold his gaze.

“…How you find out?” Annie questioned with a tremble of her voice.

Smoke didn’t respond right away.

“I heard ya’ name, baby. I heard her moaning ya’ name. Then I saw it…I saw you tongue deep in her cooze…”

Annie’s eyes darted to the floor. She slipped her hands away and sat back on her knees. Smoke stood from the bed, facing her.

“How many times?”

Smoke folded his arms over his chest.

Annie shut her eyes slow.

“Three.” She revealed.

Smoke cocked his head.

“You fuck her three times, Annie?”

“Yes…I did,” Annie fiddled with her fingers, “It just—”

“I neva knew you to cheat on me, let alone wit’ a woman?”

Smoke shook his head in disbelief.

What Annie did next surprised him.

She laughed. Smoke furrowed his brows.

“Oh, Elijah,” Annie shook her head between laughs, “You left me for seven years. What did you think I was gon’ do?”

“I came back to you! I love you!” Smoke fired back.

He lowered his voice.

“Stop. Just stop it, Smoke. Ya’ like it.”

“Huh?” Smoke curled his top lip.

“Ya’ heard me. That’s why ya’ kissed me like that before dinner. Ya’ wanted to taste her.”

Smoke shifted his head and shoulders.

“I coulda’ put a root on that dick but I didn’t. Don’t stand there all tough and shit. I know you.”

Annie stood, walking up to Smoke. She got in his face with her hands on her hips.

“Say it. Ya’ like it.” Annie pressed.

“Annie—”

Annie cut him off, “Ya’ wanna play games, I can play wit ya’. Admit to it, ya’ liked seeing me eat her pussy…ya’ liked the way she reacted to it…ya’ like me being wit’ another woman.”

Smoke growled. He wasn’t trying to give in. Annie pressed up on him, never backing down, eyes glued to his.

“Say. It. Nigga.” Annie pressed with sass.

Smoke clenched his jaw. Annie lowered her searing gaze down between her husband’s legs. She almost whimpered. Thick dick twisted to the side in his boxer shorts and poking out the bottom. A big dick.

“…Fine,” Smoke stared her in the eyes, “Yeah. Yeah. I liked it.”

Annie tilted her head, “Wasn’t so hard, now…was it?”

Smoke clenched his shaky hands.

“Shit,” Smoke glared at Annie, “The way you looked…”

Annie placed her hand on Smoke’s chest. She glided it down his body until she was cuffing his dick. It seemed to pulsate in her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his shaft through his boxer shorts. Smoke worried his brows and parted his full lips.

“How did I look, Papa?” Annie whispered seductively.

“So sexy…”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s face and pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues swirled in a sloppy manner. Smoke lowered the straps to her night gown and Annie pulled his boxer shorts down until it fell around his ankles. Smoke stepped out of them, standing before Annie in all his naked glory.

“You actin’ all upset. For what?”

Annie dropped to her knees. Smoke’s big dick was pointed out and curved to the left. Annie looked up at her husband and then wrapped a warm hand around him, stroking him with a twist of her wrist.

“Alls you had to do was be real wit’ me, Elijah.”

Annie tongued the pre cum from his tip. Smoke placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders. He bowed his head to watch her, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

“You know I’m right,” Annie dragged her tongue along the side of his shaft, “Don’t ya’?”

“Yeah,” Smoke licked his lips, “Stop teasing me, baby…”

Annie wrapped her lips around Smoke’s big dick and fit him all the way down her throat. Annie began sucking, down to the base and back to the tip. She tightened her jaws and rolled her neck to get a good rhythm. Smoke groaned deeply, hand on Annie’s head. Smoke tilted her head back a little so he could fuck her throat with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Fuck, Annie…deep throat on you…”

She was sucking on his pipe and looking him dead in his eyes.

Annie’s sucking made loud, wet sounds and left saliva all over her chin down to her chest.

“Damn,” Smoke could cum from how good it felt, “I wanna eat your pussy.”

Smoke slipped out of Annie’s mouth, dick dripping with spit and throbbing. Deep veins like loving trails for Annie’s tongue. Smoke picked Annie up and put her on her stomach. Annie arched her back and Smoke got down on his knees. He spread Annie’s big cheeks, keeping her open with a firm grip. He caught a whiff of that cooze and almost drooled down his chin.

“So beautiful…so beautiful.”

Smoke rubbed his face in it.

Smoke slobbered all over it.

Smoke sucked to his heart’s desire.

Smoke spanked those cheeks.

Annie was a moaning mess. She couldn’t form words, only sounds.

“Mm…oof…unh…ooo…ahhh…”

Smoke flipped her over. He pushed Annie’s thighs back so far her titties sat beneath her chin. Annie watched Smoke between her fat titties and round belly. He tongue fucked her, got his nose up in it, munched on it all with his eyes on her. Annie’s toes curled at the way his fluffy lips sucked on her clit.

“Smoke!”

She was loud, and she didn’t give a damn.

He ate her pussy up.

Smoke surfaced. He fisted his dick and then pointed it at Annie’s gushy.

“Had my dick so fuckin’ stiff—”

Smoke pushed in and started stroking. Annie watched Smoke’s hips grind, loving his stroke and how it pressed deep to make her cream.

“I’m creaming it, huh?” Smoke slapped her titties.

“Papa!”

“Uh-huh…”

Annie’s titties swayed in a circular motion. Smoke had her thighs out the way. Annie had nowhere to run. He looked up staring into the mirror situated in the corner. A slow smirk painted his lips. Sharp, calculated strokes had Annie gripping him with her walls.

“Cum on Papa’s dick, baby…”

Annie’s eyes crossed. Smoke’s mojo bag dangled in her face.

“Fuck, Annie! This good pussy!”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. The bed creaked from the withering springs. Smoke shot off a thick nut deep inside of Annie’s womb. He propped himself up, staring down at her as sweat dripped onto her. Annie was experiencing an orgasmic high.

“Just what I needed,” Annie opened her eyes to stare at her husband, “I love you, Smoke.”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s hand that was stroking his face and kissed it.

“I love ya’, baby. I’m not mad about Amelia.”

“Ya’ sure?”

“I is,” Smoke leaned forward to kiss Annie, “Just a lil’ jealous. She got ya’ under a spell, baby. Three times?”

Annie giggles, “It’s that good. She tasted good on my tongue?”

Smoke responded with his lips sucking on Annie’s titties.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

Annie lifted Smoke’s face.

“She gon’ be here a while, Smoke…”

Annie thumbed Smoke’s bottom lip.

“…Then we give her a proper welcome.”

Annie’s eyes lit up.

Smoke let Annie up to get dressed. He decided to sleep naked. Annie turned off the kerosene lamp and Smoke settled behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his front. Annie’s backside snuggled against his dick. The pale moonlight bathed their bodies, the sweat on their dark skin glistening.

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[uzumaki-rebellion]

In Your Arms Tonight by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Adult Language, Speculative Elements

Summary: Annie has been asked by her estranged husband Smoke to provide hot food for the opening of his new juke joint in Clarksdale. After seven years apart, their passion and love for each other hasn't waned, but Smoke learns the hard way that leaving his wife alone for a long stretch of time doesn't mean other suitors haven't been chomping at the bit to be with her in his absence.

Word count: 7.2K

"Somebody take me

In your arms tonight, alright

Somebody take me

In your arms tonight…"

Miles Caton – "I Lied to You"

Oh, he was mad.

Big mad.

Full lips all bunched up in a pout. Eyes more narrow than a sewing needle stitching a hemline back in her house. Fingers gripping the rolled tobacco cigarette tight.

Annie Moore watched her estranged husband Elijah "Smoke" Moore pretend to act unbothered on the second-floor, looking down at the mighty fine juke joint he and his twin Stack cobbled together in a day.

That big nigga was fuming up there, all on account of Beau Willie approaching her for a plate of fried catfish, and her mama's red rice recipe carried all the way over from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

There was plenty of fish to fry, pots of greens to stir, fried potatoes to season, and plenty of people to buy plates and eat them in Club Juke.

Annie wiped her brow with a folded towel next to the fryers and pretended not to notice her man hawking her from above. She gave Beau Willie two big slices of white bread with hot sauce, and pointed out the Irish beer, and Italian wine available to purchase with it. Her best friends Millie and Alberta helped cook and serve, and they all tapped their feet to the music swirling throughout the transformed sawmill. Two of Millie's older daughters stood nearby, watching and learning, and every now and then, the women would let them cook a batch of fish and sell some plates. Grace Chow the grocery store owner, also helped serve and sell liquor while gossiping with them.

"That man keep starin' at you, he gonna have his eyes fallin' outta his head," Millie whispered.

Grace giggled. Annie rolled her eyes and popped the cap of Beau Willie's beer with a bottle opener for him. Handed him the drink.

"There ya go, Beau Willie. You enjoy all that and come back for more when you ready," she said.

"You know I'll be back for your cookin', Annie. Every time," Beau Willie said with a voice deeper than the Mississippi River.

Brawny and handsome, Beau Willie worked the cotton fields like most of the colored people inside the juke. He was her first boyfriend. The first boy to ever kiss her.

Delta Slim belted out some tunes on his harmonica and tickled the piano keys, and Lloyd Allen played the lead guitar. The dancing crowd added the extra percussive beats. Preacher Boy Sammie stood next to the legend and played along with his guitar respectfully, not trying to outplay his elders, just keeping the rhythm steady with his strumming. A fiddler and two sibling banjo players waited offside for their turn to perform.

Annie served a few more plates and propped herself next to Grace against the counter filled with liquor bottles and high-priced hooch. She rightfully assumed Smoke and Stack stole all that shit. Smoke came to her house with pockets so fat and full of cash that she knew he'd been up to no good again. Wasn't no need to question or fuss with him about his criminality. He was going to do what he wanted.

A soft shiver went up her spine.

Lord, that man put it on her earlier that day! Twice. It was like old times with them. Argue and fight, and then fuck the disagreement away.

An undercurrent of disappointment simmered in her blood for his abandonment of their marriage after the loss of their baby. He begged her to run off to Arkansas with him after they robbed several banks in Clarksdale, and she refused to leave their baby behind in the ground they buried her in. That gravesite was holy, and she didn't want to leave her kin behind either. Smoke grew bitter about his pain. Selah, their baby girl, had meant everything to him. He couldn't wait to be a father and the first time he held her, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. They never stopped flowing after her death.

Annie did all she could when Selah grew sick. Asked every ancestor she knew by name and then some for help, wrung her hands with High John the Conqueror root as she beseeched God to grant her one holy favor: save her daughter from a too soon homegoing.

It wrecked Smoke.

He turned bitter, surly, and prone to drinking all day and night. The resentment in his eyes when she could cure ailments in other people, but not her own child, festered like an infection full of pus in his spirit. He said not one word to her, even though she sensed that negative energy clinging to him.

Her sorrow buried itself in her chest and she stumbled around each day numb for many months. They were not good to each other. He got it in his head to leave, like going away would banish Selah from their collective memory. She cursed him out. Beat her hands on his chest. How could he up and leave their child? Who was going to take care of her grave? Talk to her? Let her know they loved her beyond the veil of life?

He didn't skip off in the night when he left. That big gorgeous man looked Annie straight in her face and told her he couldn't stay. If he did, he feared he would turn into his father. A sullen, abusive man.

"Go on then," she said, "You scared to handle your feelings like a man, then leave. I'll stay and honor her and make a life with this pain."

He winced, and she turned her back on him, prepared an herbal remedy for a customer who was due to come by that day.

Smoke left her.

She had the community's support and sympathy. Built a business using the conjuring and medicinal skills she learned from her grandmother and Smoke's mother, Taiwo, both Hoodoo women. Taiwo nurtured her growth of knowledge until her passing two years ago. Annie stayed rooted in her power and fierce determination to keep her people thriving in Clarksdale.

She snuck a sip of the good hooch and squeezed her eyes shut from the burn that scorched her throat.

"Ooh, wee! That is some strong corn liquor," Annie gasped, patting her chest.

Millie cackled and sipped it like a pro, the moonshine sliding down her gullet like water.

"I don't know how you do that," Annie said with wonderment on her face.

"Y'all can't be drinking up the supply," Smoke said.

Annie jumped at the sound of her husband's voice. He'd moved in stealth down from the top floor to the main one. Grace wandered off to check on her husband, Bo.

"You ain't paying enough to be worried about me taking a drink when I want one," Annie joked.

"Thought I paid you in other ways that ain't got nothing to do with cash money," he teased, sliding his tongue across his top lip.

Millie smirked and lifted freshly cooked fish from the fryers and dumped them on some paper to drain. Annie wiped her hands and called one of the teen-aged girls over from the back to take over her spot.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Going to mingle and let people know we got a hot batch ready. Why you stressing me?"

"As long as you're doing that and not flirting with customers."

"Flirting with who?"

Annie put a hand on her hip. Eyed him up and down.

Smoke glanced around. The crowd wasn't paying attention to him.

"Summa these menfolk might have some amorous intentions toward you that they shouldn't," he said.

She slanted her head and waited for him to continue. He snuck a glimpse of her chest. Annie wore her good bra tonight. Her breasts sat high like mountain peaks and looked voluptuous in her new velvet green dress with the few sparkly sequins she sewed into it. She gave enough cleavage with her beads falling down the center of her breasts guiding inquisitive eyes to the Promised Land. Green was Smoke's favorite color on her. Every man watched her work the floor all evening looking like a Hoodoo queen.

Her heavy hips and high riding backside cast spells on other men as she passed them by, and that worried Smoke in that sexually charged environment. Just because they made love hours ago didn't mean he had her safely tucked in his pocket. And he knew that. He'd been gone much too long to think other men hadn't plotted to scoop her up. It was one thing for her to be out of sight/out of mind while he was up north and not faced with other suitors pursuing her. Quite another to witness it full on in person. That's why he chased the back of her dress every chance he got when she went to wandering in the juke.

His reconciliation with her was still tenuous. By his facial expression, she knew he was having flashbacks of sticking his thick dick in her deep, gushy pussy, and he worried that some other man would dare to wet his dick in it, too. It kept him on his toes. Territorial. He'd already shot two men who tried to steal his liquor when he first arrived in town. If a man tried stealing his wife's pussy…there'd be a funeral in the morning.

Smoke didn't answer her question any further about flirting and cut his eyes away from her face. She slunk around him, draped her arms across his shoulders from the side, and stared up into the brown eyes he once gave their baby girl.

"What you worried about, Elijah?" she purred playfully.

"Ah, woman, get on and handle your business."

He tried to act nonchalant, but his eyes darted back and forth to clock anybody waiting to approach her when she moved away from him.

She kissed his cheek and sauntered off, glancing back to catch him watching her. Sure enough, three other men did the same, grinning at the seductive way she swung her hips. They looked elsewhere when Smoke turned their way, going in the opposite direction of her.

"How you folks doing? We got some fresh fish hot and ready. Some Creole potato salad, too! Don't be shy about getting seconds or thirds…hey Earline! I love that dress on you! Shake it, sis! Casper, let some other fellas get a chance to dance with her…hey Ora Lee! I ain't seen you out in a long time, girl!"

Annie circled the extensive building interior. Smoke's twin brushed past her on swift legs with Mary tailing him in her expensive pale satin dress. The juke stayed turned up, with Delta Slim leading the charge. People drank, ate, and had a damn good time.

Smoke stayed watching her, and she decided to ruffle his feathers.

"Oscar, don't you owe me a dance?"

She tapped a man's shoulder, and he showed all his teeth, so happy to hold her hand and swing her out on the floor. Her left arm casually rested on his slim shoulders, and he loved the feel of her near him.

"Aw, Miss Annie, I been waiting all night for a chance to dance with you."

He was only a couple of years older than her, searching for a wife, and he'd been pestering her to go out even though she told him she was still married…for seven years straight. With no word from Smoke, she started keeping company with Oscar briefly two years ago, but the bones she threw after their third picnic date told her they were not evenly yoked. They also told her Smoke wasn't dead. And if he wasn't dead, he was bound to come home someday. She let Oscar down easy, but he never gave up hope. He dated around, but yearned for her still. It showed in the way he held her while they danced. Annie kept it short and chaste.

"Thank you," she said.

"Why you running off, Annie? You think I'm scared of that runaway husband that showed up out the blue?"

She grinned.

"I got more fish to cook and some money to make," she said.

"Don't be shy coming my way again," he said, winking at her.

His buddy had a different idea.

"Nigga, you oughta be scared. Them Smokestack twins ain't to be tested if you want to stay healthy. You ain't hear about them fellas that tried to steal from Smoke today?" his buddy said.

Annie slipped away from the conversation and checked on Smoke, who still stood up high overlooking the railing. Lips poked out again, but he wasn't taking the bait.

She returned to her post after using the privy outside and washing her hands. Stack's trickster self found himself caught in the middle of a heated conversation within a circle of young women who didn't look happy with him.

"What I miss?" Annie said.

Alberta nodded over toward Mary, who sipped a glass of wine at the far end of the food table, watching Stack like he'd vanish into thin air if she didn't keep her eyes glued to him.

"Stack called those ladies field bitches, and they heard Mary say she'd beat up every one of them over him," Alberta said.

"Oh, Lord," Annie sighed.

One woman wagged her finger in Stack's face and spoke loud enough for Mary to hear.

"Her mama was a field bitch too!"

Millie went over to help get the argument under control. Stack looked somewhat remorseful, but maybe it was because the darker Black women were lighting his ass up. They didn't play that shit.

Alberta inched closer and lowered her voice.

"You see that gal right there? The one fussing the most? She's Grace Latimer's niece. Her sister Jessie left town seven months after Stack left. He was messing with her and Mary at the same time. They say she had two of his babies. Twin girls. Her people carried her off to Pittsburgh and got her married up quick. They were too scared to confront Stack about it. Now that's a rumor, so don't go telling folks you heard that from me."

Annie studied the young woman cursing Stack out.

"Does he know he has children by Jessie?" Annie said.

"Like he would care if it's true. He a rolling stone, that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a heap of babies all over the states the way he sweet talks women out they drawers."

Annie glanced over at Mary again. She stayed watching her great love with twisted lips and heat in her eyes. Annie felt bad for her. It made her wonder about Smoke. Were there babies out there in Chicago with his last name attached to them? No, she would've known. Felt it. Her small bag of bones would've told her as well. She prayed for that man to come back home safe, and he did. Took him a long time, but she had him back for herself.

Stack smoothed over the argument, apologized, let the women have free drinks on him, and they rolled their eyes and went about their business partying. He shuffled away to join the rougher men gambling with their Chinese guests in a back room, his gold-rimmed teeth gleaming. Mary huffed loudly, then flounced off into the crowd.

"Whew, I don't want that kinda love coming after me," Millie said, "She sticking to him like a haint in the graveyard."

"She shouldn't even be here," Alberta interjected. "He keeps telling her to go, but she won't leave. What if that sheriff come 'round here to check this place out and they see her? Ain't enough bribery money in this world to keep them crackas from killing him or us if they think she white. Her too. God rest her mama's soul, but she ain't doing us no good being here," Alberta said.

"She knows, but she don't care," Millie said.

Annie fixed plates quietly.

"Annie, maybe you should talk to her. She listens to you. She your play cousin anyway," Millie said.

"Ain't nothing I can say to her that will change her mind. Y'all know I'm married to Stack's other half. I loves me some Smoke, so I know what she's feeling inside. Can't explain it to y'all what it's like being in love with a Moore man. They cut from a different cloth."

"Oh, so they be up in them guts having y'all speaking tongues then," Millie teased.

Annie guffawed and grabbed onto her friend's arm to hush her. The women laughed together and Annie sighed afterward.

"All they got is this one night," Annie said. "We're safe enough in here with our people. Stack gotta decide what he gonna do with her on his own is all I'm saying. I'll talk to her in a little bit. But we got work to do."

Annie supervised the cooking, fanned herself, and chatted up the patrons buying liquor. She couldn't stop grinning at everything and everybody. The festive atmosphere hadn't been in Clarksdale like that for years. People needed the release from toiling in the fields and their troubles.

She took another walk to cool off. The sweat between her breasts and thighs got to her. She fanned herself down in a corner and gazed at the dance floor where folks stomped feet and threw hands up in the air.

The scent of tobacco wafted near her nose.

Smoke found his way next to her. He handed her a small mason jar half-filled with wine. He held another for himself.

"For a job well done," he said.

They clinked the jars together, and she sipped the white wine. He did the same after tossing his cigarette. The sweet liquid tasted good. Not too dry, nor overly sweet.

"You look beautiful, Annie. I meant to tell you that before we got here…but we got busy and…"

"Thank you," she said.

He took their empty jars away and handed them to a young man walking past and asked him to drop them off over at the liquor table to be washed.

"Would you like to dance, Mrs. Moore?" he asked her.

"I would love to, Mr. Moore."

A faint perceptible smile turned up one side of his mouth. She delighted in the rare sight of seeing his dimples. One would think only Stack had them with the lack of smiles Smoke gave freely. So stingy.

He threaded his fingers with hers and purposely walked to the center so everyone would see they were together. The strut in his step gave away his pride at having her by his side. If other men didn't take the obvious hint that she was back with her husband, the gun openly displayed on Smoke's side would deter them.

When he pulled her in close for a down home slow drag, her breasts rested on his wide chest where they were meant to be. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and those muscular ones of his circled her waist. He'd taken off his tweed jacket and the heat from him gripped around her as tight as his arms. They rocked their bodies together and his eyes latched onto hers.

Smoke didn't need words to speak what he felt. He snaked his hips and pressed into her tight.

Love looked right into her eyes through him. So raw and intimate. She almost had to turn away from his intense gaze.

"Baby, you're the finest woman in here," he whispered in her ear.

He let the tip of his tongue swipe the shell of her ear and spoke her name slowly, like an incantation. The hair of his mustache tickled her face the way she remembered, and he rubbed on her Rubenesque shape. Smoke loved him some full-figured women and although she had been a slender teenager when they first met at a church revival gathering, he took one look at her mother and saw the future of what Annie would become. It probably helped that she'd grown plump round titties already, but he'd zeroed in on her like a hummingbird to nectar.

His prediction came true. She filled out in the hips and rump. Her breasts turned buxom. He became an ass man and a lover of big tits.

Smoke liked how snug they were against him in that moment because his dick already poked at her through his trousers. She slid a hand down and palmed that third leg.

"Hey, now," he said, looking around.

"You think your dick the only one hard out here?" she said.

He lowered his hand on her waist and slapped her ass.

"Play around with me, woman, and I'm liable to take you in a room upstairs and bend you over again. You want me to make another big mess inside you?"

Annie covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him.

He pulled it away.

"What? You can talk dirty to me, but I can't give it right back to ya?"

She threw back her head and beamed, feeling tingles all over from the raspy tone of his voice. He gently placed his lips on her neck and sucked on it while stroking her bare arms. His fingertips ignited her flesh and when he finally kissed her, she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue against his. Her heart thumped with the excitement of their lips touching and fired off sparks everywhere on her body. When the man started lifting and separating her ass cheeks, kneading them like he had biscuits to make, she had to shut him down, or else he'd take her right there on the dance floor.

"I gotta get back to work, Elijah—"

"Mmm hmmm."

She pulled his hands away from her backside reluctantly. He slapped her rump again playfully.

"When we get back home, I'll get them big legs around me again," he teased.

He grabbed onto his dick and showed her the bulge ready for her. She waved a hand to shoo him away, but he held her from behind and pressed his temple against hers, swaying to the music. He gently tugged on the soft abundance of her belly and held it while putting his tongue in her ear again.

"You my woman, understand? My wife."

"Yes."

He patted her rump, and she meandered over to the food, playing with her protective haint blue beads, and giving herself time to collect her thoughts about Smoke. She grinned until her cheeks hurt; her husband's touches still lingered over the skin of her arms and midsection.

"Love looks good on you, Annie," Millie said.

Annie patted her friend's hand and calculated the amount of food left to cook. Plates were moving, but the liquor not as quick while folks danced. They would have to lower prices on the booze. Smoke wouldn't like that. The man wanted to make a profit, not break even…or worse. Surveying the crowd, if Club Juke could maintain its current capacity week after week, they would be alright.

She checked the trays of uncooked fish left. Not enough. Millie and Alberta noticed it, too. There was a tub of extra fish on ice in Smoke's truck.

"We need to get the rest from the truck…Hampton, come help me bring the fish in," Annie asked a young man standing idly by the table watching the dancing.

"I can get it for you, Annie," Beau Willie said.

He tossed a bottle of Irish beer into a waste bin.

"That's alright Beau Willie, Hamp can help me—"

"I got it," he said.

He headed out the side door, and Annie followed. She paused at the door's threshold and glanced over her shoulder. Smoke and Stack spoke to each other on the landing of the stairs leading to the second level.

She slipped outside and the balmy fall air felt hot and sticky on her skin.

"The truck's over there," she said, pointing.

He ambled over and she followed behind him.

A crow sat on the truck. Annie stared at it. The bird's eye shine announced its presence. It was odd to see a lone crow like that at night. Normally they did communal roosting hidden away. They preferred safety in numbers, and the anomaly of seeing one crow wide awake and watching her sent Annie's intuition into overdrive.

A pale white moon attracted her attention, and she turned to look at Club Juke in its entirety, surrounded by dense trees. The music bubbled out from it, and so did all the laughter inside. They were isolated from everyone in Clarksdale. The sawmill was the perfect property to buy.

The crow kept watching her.

It stretched its wings with a couple of loud flaps and then settled into observing her and Beau Willie. She touched her beads. The crow seemed familiar to her, like from some dream she had recently, one that woke her up in the middle of the night panting. Smoke had been in the dream with her. It had been so real that she could smell his skin and the cigarette smoke on his clothes. The crow spoke to her like a friend in that dream and told her not to worry. Her man was coming home soon.

Annie shook her head. Focused on the task at hand.

"It's up in there, Beau Willie," she said.

He pulled the tarp back and climbed onto the truck. He picked up the heavy tub of fish Smoke bought from Bo Chow and left it on the edge before jumping down on the ground.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

"No problem, Annie. Always happy to help."

Beau Willie peered at her with softness in his deep-set eyes. Recently widowed, he cared for his four young children with his mother's help. His grown face still held the boyish charm she fell for as a teenager.

"Annie, can I ask you something personal?"

"What?"

"Is he staying for good this time?"

Annie wiped the back of her neck and turned to head back. He clasped her hand and held her in place.

"I'm not tryin' to be disrespectful to your husband. We both know who he is and what he does. You deserve better, Annie. Someone who won't run out on you when things get tough or even when bad things happen. I loved you first. He stole you from me—"

"Nobody stole me, Beau Willie."

"Then why him? Huh?"

"You and I were so young when we dated. You had plenty of girlfriends after me and married a good woman—"

"They weren't you, Annie. I've had you in my heart for a long time. If he doesn't stay this time like he didn't before…then give me a chance to rekindle us. I can give you a family already. I work hard…look after my kin. I ain't never stopped loving you. Even when you chose him over me, I held you here…"

He touched his heart.

"He's my husband. What you want, Beau Willie, is what I caint give. Maybe…maybe if Smoke never came back…maybe if he'd been killed or thrown in prison and stuck on a chain gang for life…maybe if something like that happened…our bond would be broken. But that man is a part of me and planted so deep in my soul that there ain't nothin' that you or any other man in that juke can say to change my mind different. I would walk through hell with him. Do you hear me?"

"He already put you through hell, Annie. Left you all alone, for all those years—"

"But he back now," she said, shifting her weight onto one foot.

She hated Beau Willie in that instant. He had the audacity to bring out the niggling twinges of doubt into her mind about Smoke.

The click of a revolver behind them snapped them to attention.

"You heard her, Beau Willie. I'm back now. I suggest you take that fish into the juke and stay the fuck away from my wife," Smoke said.

Beau Willie blinked rapidly and stepped back from her.

"No need to have that out, Smoke," Beau Willie said.

"Why not? I come outside and see another man propositioning my wife to leave me, and what am I supposed to do? Let that shit fly? I should blast holes in you right now, but I got a business to run. Pick that fish up, nigga, and go."

Beau Willie glared at Smoke. He didn't dare look at Annie again. Smoke aimed the gun at the man's head.

"I can take you out clean or painful. Your choice," Smoke said.

Beau Willie lifted the metal tub of iced fish and trudged back into the juke.

Smoke holstered his gun and faced Annie.

They stared at one another in silence.

"How much you hear?" she asked.

"Everything."

Her tongue worried the roof of her mouth as her eyes welled up.

"You really staying, right?" she said.

"You let that nigga get in your head?"

Annie closed her eyes. Tilted her head back slightly so no tears would fall.

"I'm staying," he reassured her.

She nodded her head once, afraid the knots in her stomach would find a way to take root in her chest.

"You believe me, dontcha, baby?"

"Like you told me back at my place. I believe what I can see," she said.

She left him outside and returned to the makeshift kitchen to oversee the cleaning of the fish. Smoke did his rounds on the floor, and she fought the anxiety of worrying about him and his plans. Her grandmother always told her people showed you who they were, and she could believe in what Smoke did. Not what he said.

Delta Slim beckoned for Sammie to take center stage with pride in his voice. The young man was finally getting his chance to sing.

"Tell them who you are…" Delta Slim said.

Sammie shyly and sweetly introduced himself, and Annie couldn't help but smile at how precious he was to the Moore family. He was her family, too, and he glanced at her briefly. She nodded her head for him to show the world his gifts and Sammie started singing something he never shared before and the hairs on her neck and arms raised up.

Immediately, a tunnel vision warped her reality and Annie pushed out her breath to keep herself from having a panic attack and passing out.

Sammie.

His guitar.

Annie stared at the walls as Sammie wailed out the blues with Delta Slim perched on stage like a proud Poppa. She could see the people shouting and encouraging Sammie to let loose, and when he held a long note, his voice ripped through the ceiling and Annie sensed there were more people in the sawmill than the ones she could physically see. Some unseen entity darted past her skin, touching her like bird wings fluttering in the air. High above, perched on a rafter, the crow from outside gazed down at her. The surge of power in the room engulfed the entire juke.

Smoke looked in her direction, just as shocked by the music and Sammie's voice and also by the triumphant way the people danced. Grace and Bo also twirled in time to the blues music that wrapped everyone in a cloak of revelry and freedom to be who they be.

Annie gasped, wildly overstimulated by the unseen. She touched the top of her head, feeling the sensation of an overwhelming presence.

It freed her.

She locked eyes with Smoke far across the room and he strode forward, zigzagging through the crowd on a direct path to her. The weight of Sammie's music slowed everything in her mind down and her husband's movement seemed even slower. She moved from around the counter and lunged for him, pushing through sweaty people, needing to get to her man.

Smoke reached for her, and she cradled his face.

"I need you. Here with me," she said.

"I ain't going nowhere."

Their lips crashed together, tongues battling to subdue the other in a frenetic exchange of energy and desire. He entwined their fingers and pulled her through the crowd, heading for the stairs. The music had risen to a crescendo that vibrated on her skin with an intensity that should've burst into flames.

Smoke pulled her up the stairs and into a room that he used for himself, that he planned to make his office if the juke proved profitable. He slammed the door shut behind them.

He spun her around and helped her take off her dress, unhooked her bra, and pushed her onto an old cot covered in a coarse blanket. Smoke undressed quickly, and the music rose through the floor.

"Somebody take me…in your arms tonight…!"

Sammies mature voice thundered below them.

The only thing Smoke had on was the mojo bag she made for him and his metal dog tags from the war. His dick pointed at her and dripped pre-cum. He barely gave her time to pull off her panties before his erection parted her slick labia and sank into her.

"Oh…Jesus!" Annie shouted.

Her man was down in that bottom.

He cradled her breasts and stretched his mouth around her areola, sucking to his heart's content. She wrapped her thighs around him and he gave her more of the deep dick she'd been craving for seven years.

"This is my pussy," mumbled into her ear.

The weight of him smothered her in scorching heat and his steady heartbeat.

He dropped to his knees and spread her legs, licking his wide tongue against her labia, giving extra tender care to her clit. Daddy was hungry and made her a sopping wet mess. He took his time until there was nearly a puddle under her.

"Turn over," he said, helping her move into the position wanted.

She placed herself on her hands and knees. He plunged his tongue inside her entrance and she squealed. Rubbing on her ass, he stood and inserted that thickness between his legs back into her, grunting and cussing up a storm. Her pussy felt exquisite to him by the sounds he moaned out. She was as hot and gushy as he wanted. He angled himself so he could watch her titties hang and smack together with each powerful thrust. Annie was so wet that her pussy sounded like it was having its own conversation taking his dick in the small room.

He climbed on the cot with Annie and pulled her onto her knees. She spread her thighs wide. He took back shots, holding her arms behind her, and Annie's tits bounced like crazy, forcing throaty moans from him. The pounding of the rhythm below them matched the pounding Smoke gave her pussy. The frenzy of his dick going in and out pulled lustful cries of pleasure from her lips. He palmed her breasts and rolled his fingers across her big nipples.

"You coulda been getting this pussy all the time," she said.

He clutched onto her tits, squeezing them, before gripping her arms tight, delighting in her titties shaking and arousing him more.

Annie squeezed her walls around his girth and he shouted her name.

"Pussy so good…Annie…"

She took control and pulled away from him.

"Whatchu doing? I need that shit…" he gasped.

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Her thighs spread and wedged against his hips. Her breasts rested on his chest. He fondled them and stared up at her.

"I love you, Elijah. I never stopped loving you. All these years…I never once wanted any man the way I wanted you."

He thrust up, and she snapped her eyes closed. He stretched her like no other, and it felt incredible.

"Elijah…"

He thumbed her clit, allowing the slick wetness from her pubic hairs to coat the button every man wanted to push on her since Smoke had been away. She lowered her head and kissed him. His lips were so fluffy and soft against her mouth. The taste of her pussy there pleased him. He licked his lips as she tasted herself.

"I love you…hear me, woman? I love you. Don't let one of these niggas get killed tryna take you from me."

"No one can take me from you."

"You sure?"

She stopped moving.

"You think I'd want anyone else?"

She spread her hands on the wide planes of his chest. Traced two fingers down the path below his belly button of soft hairs that led to the wild pubic bush surrounding his dick.

He didn't answer, trusting the sincerity in her eyes.

"All I ever wanted was you…just you, Elijah. And when you left me…"

He lifted himself to face her and held his hands around her waist and backside.

"Shhh…shhh. Don't cry, Annie. Baby, please…I don't ever want to make you cry again. I promise."

He kissed away each teardrop that fell from her eyes. The soft pecks built up her confidence in him and she breathed easier. His voice stayed soft.

"I told you I missed you and wanted to be with you…I also want us to try for a baby again. Build our family," he said.

"You do?"

"Yes. That is…if you want that, too."

She hugged him tight.

"I do…I do!"

She wept so hard her eyes blurred. Smoke gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart nearly burst with joy.

Annie rocked on him, pleasuring herself and him. Smoke held her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

"Oh…damn…Elijah…you're making me…oh Jesus!"

Annie came hard, and it rocked her world. Smoke massaged her breasts and watched her face transform with the rapturous climax. He grazed his teeth across a nipple and she shuddered, exalting in the sensations cascading all across her skin.

"We can try for a baby right now," he said.

He flipped her back over onto the small cot and she yelped as he tossed her legs over his biceps.

"Will you let me put another baby in you, Annie?"

"I sure will," she gasped, nearly out of breath.

His dimples melted her. He got down to business, too. Touching her skin all over, kissing her throat and whispering words of love in her ear. He licked on her nipples and stared at her fullness.

"Touching you is like touching the beauty of the night sky, Annie. You my jewel…my most precious thing in this world. Without you…I ain't fit to live."

"Hush now…"

"Nah, I want you to hear me."

"I want you to show me."

He grinned and pumped that thickness into her slowly, letting her feel every inch. Her mouth parted, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Ooh…Elijah…baby…"

Her pants came faster, and the groans from him aroused her to new heights. He hunched over her and every muscle flexed for her. Their sweat mingled and his strokes curled her toes. He lowered her legs and thumbed her clit, watching his dick go in and out. His lips poked out and his face carried a serious expression.

She recognized that look.

He was about to cum.

"Annie…baby…I'm getting close…"

She fondled her own breasts, and it created more tension for him. His eyes darted from her pussy to her tits. The way his eyes narrowed, she knew it was going to be a big load.

"Annie!"

"Yes!"

"I'm cummin'!"

He threw his head back and roared her name, his thumb faithfully rubbing her clit until she spilled over into a new release. His dick throbbed inside her and she matched the pulses squeezing her walls around him to milk every drop of cum.

"Fuckkkk!"

His hoarse cry drowned out her whimpers of pleasure. Her pussy kept throbbing around him until the last surge of her orgasm quieted down enough where she could move again.

"Elijah?"

His eyes watered. Tears fell down on her. The tone of his voice trembled.

"I'm sorry, baby…for everything…"

"My love…it's okay…you're here with me…we're here together," she said.

"I can't give you back those seven years…"

"Shhh…stay with me here…in this moment… in the right now."

He twisted his head to the side in shame. She pulled it back to look at her.

"We here," she said

He kissed her forehead.

Smoke snuggled around her until they were in a tight spoon together. He played with a breast and listened to her breathing calm down. The music below them kept going and Annie didn't want to leave his arms ever again. She shifted her position, and Smoke rested his head on her breasts. Stroking his hair gently, she snatched that tiny moment of peace for themselves, forgetting about everything and everybody in the juke.

Annie cleaned herself up as best she could with the buckets of water Smoke brought up from a well out behind the juke. No one paid attention to him or questioned why he needed to tote water and clean rags upstairs. He cleaned himself up, too, and they rejoined the dancing below.

She floated.

Making love to him grounded her and pushed away any doubt.

He was going to stay with her.

She hoped they had conceived a little one. Lord knows he put enough semen in her over the course of a day to open a whorehouse. She laughed at the thought.

Smoke made his rounds, checking in on everything before he slipped his hand over hers to dance one more time.

She nuzzled her face against his cheek, pulling an open smile from his face. It was such a shock that even Delta Slim had to look twice to make sure it was real.

She hooked her arms around her husband's neck, swayed with him in time to the music and their own internal rhythm. Part of his mojo bag peeked out from his vest. She touched it. Early that morning, she had fed it, prayed over it, recharged it with her love and that of her ancestors to protect him.

"Blood of my blood…bone of my bone…," she whispered.

"You putting a root on me, woman? I told you… I'm home for good. Forever," he said.

"Forever ever?" she teased.

"For always."

"Ashe," she affirmed.

"What that mean again?"

"And so it is."

"I like that."

"Me too."

"Annie?"

"Yes, Elijah?"

"I love you."

He kissed her softly. Kissed life back into her.

The music played on, and for a few hours, it did seem like forever.

A.N.:

Wanted to put out a short Smoke/Annie fic to practice getting Annie's voice for another fic. I plan to write more about these two. How they met. Had their first child etc. This short is connected to my "Choose One" longer fic. You may recognize a speculative figure lurking in the story if you've started reading "Choose One." Enjoy!

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[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.” 

tags: @tayrae515

[gf2bellamy]

Hiii! Completely self indulgent but could I request reader is new to the BAU and they don’t quite know her that well but it’s coming up to Halloween and she starts slowly decorating her desk. No one really notices but Spencer and then one day he is ranting about Halloween traditions but is interrupted halfway throughout and reader finishes his rant. Giving away that she loves Halloween. Bonus Spencer could leave reader a little Halloween gift?

Ps I love your writing so much, I love reading. So thank you!!!

decorations — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing a/n: hiii !! such a cute idea <3 i hope this is what you asked for <333

You carefully nudged the small, plush pumpkin into place, ensuring it sat perfectly beside the tiny ceramic ghosts you had lined up just moments ago.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you surveyed your handiwork—your own little Halloween haven amid the almost entirely undecorated office. 

It was your first Halloween with the BAU, and you were quickly coming to the realization that your enthusiasm for the holiday wasn’t exactly shared by most of your coworkers.

Sure, there were a few scattered decorations—a couple of half-heartedly strung spiderwebs draped over shelves, a lonely plastic skeleton perched near the coffee maker—but overall, the atmosphere was lacking in spooky spirit. 

Not that it bothered you. You loved Halloween. And, as it turned out, so did one of your coworkers. 

“You have good taste,” came a familiar voice, light with amusement. 

You looked up to see Spencer standing beside your desk, pointing at one of the tiny ghosts with a smile. His eyes, warm with excitement, flickered between you and the decoration.

“I have the same one at home,” he admitted, his grin widening. 

Your lips parted in surprise. “Really?” 

He nodded, his enthusiasm only growing. “Yes! I love Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday!” The sheer excitement in his voice was endearing.

Before you could respond, he continued, already diving into a fact with that spark in his eyes. 

“Did you know that pumpkins were originally associated with warding off evil spirits? The tradition of carving jack-o'-lanterns actually comes from an old Irish myth about a man named Stingy Jack. According to legend—” 

And just like that, he was off, launching into a detailed explanation, his words coming faster the more excited he got. You couldn’t help but smile, resting your chin on your hand as you listened. 

But then, Derek interrupted Spencer, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder and effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"He bothering you with his Halloween rant?" Derek teased, his signature grin wide and amused. 

You glanced up at him before looking back at Spencer, who had gone noticeably red, his mouth still slightly open.

“No, not at all,” you said with a small smile, shaking your head. Then, without missing a beat, you continued, “He was just telling me how the legend says that Stingy Jack tricked the Devil multiple times and, as punishment, he wasn’t allowed into either Heaven or Hell. So he was doomed to wander the Earth, with only a carved-out turnip lit by a lump of burning coal to guide his way.” 

A slow smile spread across Spencer’s face, his eyes lighting up like you had just spoken his exact language. Derek, on the other hand, blinked at you, his grin slipping into an expression of surprise. 

“Wait, hold on—did you just finish his nerdy Halloween speech for him?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I like Halloween too.” 

Spencer beamed, clearly delighted, while Derek groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. 

“Oh great, now there’s two of you,” he muttered, shaking his head as he walked away. 

You turned back to Spencer, who was still watching you with an undeniable look of appreciation. 

“You know,” he said, almost shyly, “it’s really nice to have someone else in the team who actually enjoys all the history behind Halloween.” 

Your smile softened. “Well, you can tell me all the Halloween facts you want, Spencer. I promise I won’t mind.” 

His cheeks turned a little pink again, but his smile only grew. 

“Be careful,” he warned playfully. “I have a lot of them.” 

You simply leaned on your desk, resting your chin in your hand. “Good. I like listening.” 

And with that, Spencer Reid—genuine, brilliant, and just a little awkward—stood there grinning, as if he had just met a kindred spirit. 

Hours later, you were nearly finished with work, exhaustion settling into your bones as you made your way back to your desk with a yawn. You had just spent twenty minutes reviewing a report with JJ, and now all you could think about was heading home, curling up under a warm blanket, and putting on a fun Halloween movie to unwind. 

But as you reached your desk, you came to an abrupt halt. 

Sitting there, right beside your little ghost figurines, was a small white cup adorned with a ghost design—one that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

A warmth bloomed in your chest as realization hit. There was only one person who could have left it. 

You turned your head toward Spencer’s desk, already knowing what you’d find. Sure enough, Spencer was there, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before he quickly looked away, cheeks turning an unmistakable shade of pink. 

“I thought you’d like it,” he murmured, his voice softer in the now mostly empty bullpen. Then, he lifted his own cup—an orange one with a grinning jack-o’-lantern face. 

Your smile widened as you reached for the cup, feeling the warmth of freshly poured coffee your fingertips. 

“I love it,” you said sincerely, turning back to him. “Thank you, Spencer.” 

His lips quirked into a small but unmistakably pleased smile, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there.

Maybe the bullpen wasn’t decked out in spooky decorations, and maybe most of your coworkers didn’t share your enthusiasm for the holiday—but Spencer did. 

And that made all the difference. 

[starsjulia]

spoilt rotten // leah williamson

masterlist

a/n : i flipping love writing leah x spoilt reader so here’s another one

warnings : fluff, playful teasing, kinda suggestive at the end

Leah Williamson was known for her unwavering focus on the pitch—sharp, commanding, and completely in control. As Arsenal’s vice captain, she knew how to lead, how to push her teammates to be the best, and how to give everything for the badge. But when it came to you? Well, Leah was nothing short of head over heels, and everyone knew it.

You were, simply put, breathtaking. A model with a body that could stop traffic, and a face so stunning it made people stare. Your presence was captivating, whether you were at a glamorous event or just lounging at home in one of Leah’s old hoodies. And Leah? She couldn’t help but spoil you rotten, constantly doting on you, treating you like a princess. It was something her teammates never let her forget.

The latest round of teasing came after a grueling win for Arsenal. The team was in high spirits, buzzing from the post-match high as they headed out for a team bonding dinner at one of London’s trendiest restaurants. The private room was filled with laughter and chatter, but all eyes turned when you walked in, your arm linked with Leah’s, her hand resting possessively on your lower back.

Dressed in a sleek outfit that hugged your curves perfectly, you looked every bit the model you were—effortlessly chic, and drop-dead gorgeous.

Leah, as always, couldn’t take her eyes off you. She was practically glued to your side, her thumb tracing gentle circles against the small of your back. Her teammates, well, they were all too used to it by now, but it didn’t stop them from throwing their usual jabs.

“Oh, here she is—our very own supermodel,” Katie called out, her Irish accent coming through as she grinned at you. “Come on then, Leah, what’s it gonna be tonight? More Chanel? Maybe a trip to Milan? She’s got you wrapped, mate.”

You laughed, used to the teasing by now, as you slid into the booth next to Leah. “I’m thinking diamonds, Katie. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, babe?” you teased, turning to Leah with a playful glint in your eye.

Leah groaned softly, rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless. “Only the best for you,” she murmured, her arm slipping around your shoulders as she pulled you close. Her lips brushed the side of your temple, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “You deserve the world, love.”

Katie snorted from across the table, leaning back in her chair. “Jesus Christ, she’s got you good. You’d buy her the moon if she asked, wouldn’t you?”

Beth, who was sitting across from you, grinned and elbowed Caitlin. “Aye, I reckon she already has. I mean, look at ‘em.”

Caitlin chuckled, her Aussie accent thick as she nodded. “Mate, I think we’ve all accepted Leah’s never gonna say no to her. She’s gone.”

Leah just smiled, unbothered by the jabs, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “They’re just jealous,” she whispered in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shivered lightly at the feeling, biting your lip as you leaned into her touch.

The team broke into laughter, but Leah didn’t care. Her attention was solely on you, her eyes filled with affection as she watched you chat easily with the girls. Even after a tough match, you were the most beautiful thing in the room, and Leah’s heart swelled every time she looked at you.

As the dinner went on, the teasing continued. Between sips of wine and mouthfuls of food, the team couldn’t resist throwing more playful jabs Leah’s way.

“So, Leah,” Beth started, her voice laced with amusement, “how many handbags have you bought her this week? We reckon it’s at least three.”

Leah smirked, her fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair. “Only two,” she responded nonchalantly. “Had to hold back a bit this time.”

Katie let out a loud laugh, nearly choking on her drink. “Hold back? Are you hearing yourself?”

You giggled, leaning into Leah’s side as her arm tightened around you. “She’s just generous,” you said with a grin, flashing Leah a look that made her stomach flip.

“Generous,” Lotte echoed from further down the table, shaking her head. “More like she’s whipped.”

Leah huffed playfully, pulling you even closer so your legs pressed against hers under the table. “You lot are just jealous you don’t have someone as gorgeous to spoil.”

Caitlin raised her drink. “Touché.”

Leah’s hand slid a little lower on your waist, her fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt, her touch making your skin tingle. You turned your head to give her a knowing smile, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You really don’t mind, do you?”

Leah’s eyes darkened just slightly, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not one bit, princess.”

---

A few days later, Leah had invited some of the girls over for a chill night at her place—Beth, Katie, and Lotte were sprawled across the couch and chairs, beers in hand as they chatted casually about the latest matches, the conversation flowing easily. Leah was mid-sentence, explaining some tactical breakdown from the last game, when you suddenly strolled into the room, your voice lilting with that teasing tone you always used when you wanted something.

“Leahhhh…” you called sweetly, padding barefoot across the living room in one of her oversized hoodies. Leah immediately looked up, her heart fluttering at the sight of you. “There’s this new Victoria’s Secret collection that just dropped,” you continued, drawing out your words as you made your way over to where she sat. “And you know how much you love it on me.”

Leah barely blinked, already reaching for her wallet. Without even thinking twice, she pulled out her card and handed it to you, her mind clearly still half-absorbed in the football conversation. “Sure, princess. Get whatever you want,” she said casually, not missing a beat.

You grinned, taking the card with a cheeky kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, babe,” you purred, already planning your shopping spree as you turned and left the room, your hips swaying just a little more than usual as you walked away.

The second you were out of earshot, the room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into laughter.

“No way!” Katie gasped, her Irish accent thick as she clutched her side, barely able to contain herself. “Leah, you didn’t even blink! You just handed her the card like it was nothin’!”

Beth was wiping tears from her eyes as she shook her head. “Mate, you didn’t even ask what it was for. She’s got you wrapped, doesn’t she?”

Leah shrugged, leaning back on the sofa with a lazy grin. “What can I say? She looks incredible in everything she wears—especially Victoria’s Secret. It’s a win-win for me.”

Lotte leaned forward, her brows raised in mock disbelief. “You serious? You didn’t even think about it.”

Leah smirked, completely unbothered by their ribbing. “Don’t need to. She can have whatever she wants.”

Katie groaned, tossing a cushion at Leah. “You’re bloody hopeless. Whipped doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Leah caught the cushion and threw it back, shaking her head with a grin. “Yeah, well, if you had someone like her, you’d be the same.”

Beth grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Fair play. But seriously, Leah, you’re like a bloody ATM at this point.”

Leah just shrugged, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not about the money. I want her to feel special. She deserves it.”

Just then, you reappeared, walking back into the living room with a satisfied grin as you handed Leah her card. “You’re the best, babe.”

Leah smirked, sliding the card back into her wallet before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to sit on her lap. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as she nuzzled into your neck, teasingly repeatedly shifting yourself to ‘get comfortable’.

“Jesus Christ, can you two get a room?” Katie groaned, taking a long sip of her beer as she watched the two of you. “This is getting out of hand.”

Leah just chuckled, her lips brushing against your jaw. “We might just do that later,” she murmured lowly, her voice soft but with enough edge to make your skin tingle.

Beth groaned, throwing her hands up. “And here we go again.”

You laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Leah’s cheek before turning to Beth with a cheeky smile. “I told you—it’s the Victoria’s Secret effect.”

The girls erupted into laughter again, but Leah’s grip on you tightened slightly, her fingers brushing the hem of your hoodie. “Can’t say I mind,” she murmured into your ear, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You turned, your breath warm against her skin as you whispered back, “I know you don’t, babe.”

Leah’s eyes darkened slightly, her thumb brushing against your bare skin under the hoodie. “I’ll show you just how much later.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you bit your lip, the playful glint in her eyes sending a shiver down your spine. But before you could respond, Lotte interrupted with a dramatic groan.

“Alright, alright, enough with the flirting,” Lotte said, rolling her eyes playfully. “Save it for when we’re not here.”

You and Leah exchanged a look, both of you grinning before turning your attention back to the group. The night continued, filled with laughter, teasing, and the easy banter that only comes from close friends. But even as the conversation flowed, Leah’s hand stayed glued to your waist, her fingers gently tracing patterns against your skin.

And though her teammates teased her relentlessly, Leah wouldn’t have it any other way. You were her princess, her everything, and she’d spoil you for the rest of her life if it meant keeping that smile on your face.

[nakylvr]

— DARKNESS TENFOLD

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

summary: some things aren't always as they seem in the dark nights of the south. you know that. but when a mysterious woman shows up in your bar, you fail to notice those signs and stories your relatives told you time and time again.

warnings/tags: angst, mild language, period piece in the south, vampire!sophia, bartender!reader, suggestive content

now playing: sinners official playlist

yes i just watched sinners. maybe there will be a part 2 lemme know if i should 😋

there wasn't a whole lot that went down in the small town you lived in of mississippi. now, working at the local bar did give you some stories. like drunkards you had to kick out or break up fights when it got out of hand. but nothing too out of the ordinary.

being one of the bartenders at the pub, you often talked to the customers. and you enjoyed it. some would tell you old stories from when they were kids, some told you ancient stories claimed to be "voodoo" by your relatives, and some did try to have their way with you. but you handled those ones fast. it wasn't difficult once word got around that you stabbed a fork in one of their hands when they tried to grab a feel of you.

you liked your little life. you enjoyed it. you didn't see the need to find anyone for you, you weren't that type of person to be grounded by just one individual. but your mother loved to always say "someone could change that!". you have yet to find said person.

it was another night in the bar for you. music playing in the background as you wiped down the counter from the last customer when you heard the door open. "good evening!" you say loud enough for the customer to hear before looking up.

when you look at who walked through the doors, you're immediately entranced. a beautiful woman with jet black hair in a matching black dress, and a walk so delicate but so sure of herself and where she was going. you'd never seen this woman in your life, you're sure of that. you would've remembered someone like this. the woman sits in front of you and pushes her hair out of her face.

"what'll it be?" you ask her with a polite smile. "we got whiskey, irish beer, italian wine, or water, if you prefer that."

"i'll have your best wine," she answers swiftly, like she knew her answer as soon as you said it. "whatever you think is the best."

you let out a shy laugh. "well, i wouldn't trust my judgment, miss. i'm not much of a drinker," you reply.

"i trust your judgment, darling," she responds.

her accent tells you she's not from here. you know that much. maybe she's from up north. but the way she says it has you feeling like she's been here a while. the subtle twang she says it in. almost as if she was trying to mimic the others around town and how they talk.

"okay." you nod. turning around you grab your favorite wine, the only kind you drink cause you hate the taste of all the others, and a glass. you set the glass down in front of the woman and pour the crimson red liquid into the glass. you swear you notice a flicker of something in the woman's eyes, but you don't think much of it. "that'll be three dollars, miss."

the woman hums and nods, pulling out five dollar bills and sliding them over to you. "thank you, darling," she says, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. "mm, this is great." she then sets the glass down on the counter. "tell me, is there anything to do around here?"

you're a bit surprised by her question, but it just confirms your theories that she isn't from here. "well, not much if you want me to be honest," you answer while putting the bottle back. "i heard some brothers are back in town and are fixing up that old mill a bit outside of here to make it a juke joint. that'll be the best thing in this town in years." you pause, taking a look at the woman. "you're not from here, are you?"

"not exactly," she responds, circling her finger around the glass. "i'm from chicago, originally."

"ah." you nod. "the big city. are the rumors true? that you can really do anything up there?"

"indeed," she answers with a nod. "it's beautiful up there. but, i've always wanted to see the south."

"you travel a lot, then?" you ask.

"something like that." she smiles, taking another sip of her drink.

"work? or cause you want to?" you couldn't help but ask more questions, and you weren't sure why. there was something so enthralling about the woman sitting in front of you, something that pulled you in, wanted you to know more.

"both," she replies. "what's your name, dear?"

"hm?" you hum, taking a moment to process the words. "oh, it's yn."

"very pretty name," she says, taking another sip. "when do you usually get out of here?"

"it depends." you shrug. "most of the time a little after midnight. i don't like staying past midnight."

"why?" the woman tilts her head to the side.

"oh nothing." you wave your hand like it was nothing. "it's just around here the old folk love telling stories about these demons and ghosts and whatnot."

"do you believe any of them?" she asks.

you're breath hitches in your throat when she looks at you. her eyes seem almost foggy, a grey hue clouding over them that you manage to see in the light above you. and then it's gone in a second, like you didn't see it at all. you probably didn't.

"no." you shake your head. but you did. you knew the stories of demons who preyed the night and couldn't stand in the sun. that their souls would remain trapped in their bodies for decades, centuries even until they were killed. how they could seduce and trick you like it was nothing.

"that's good," she hums, finishing her glass. "could i have another?"

"of course," you say a little too fast, swiftly grabbing the glass and turning to grab the bottle. when you turn back, she has a warm smile on her face. you pour another glass and slide it over to her.

"so, you married?" the woman suddenly asks, surprising you.

"sorry?" you let out.

"my apologies," she waves her hand. "it's just, i'd be shocked if you were without a husband. you're quite beautiful."

your cheeks heat up at her words. "well...thank you, miss. but no, i'm happily unmarried."

"happily?" she cocks her head to the side.

"yes." you nod. "i've come to realize that i don't need a man to take care of me. i can take care of myself. those brothers fixing up the mill can assure you that."

"oh, really?" she smirks, but there's no condescending tone in her words.

"indeed." you nod again. "those boys are practically my own blood if they didn't come from a different daddy. if you see one of 'em, steer clear."

"and why is that?" she questions.

"they don't like people who ain't from here. and they especially don't like when they flirt with me," you answer.

a smile curls on the woman's lips. "you believe i'm flirting?"

you shrug your shoulders, leaning forward over the counter. "i dunno. a lot of folk like trying their hardest with me. i ain't surprised cause you're a lady, miss."

"really? and has any of them figured it out?" she says, still smiling.

"not a single one." you shake your head, a smile making its way onto your lips.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"fuck,"

you let out the second sophia puts her knee in between your thighs, leaning your head back against the wall. her lips travel against your jawline, leaving wet kisses in her trace trailing down to your neck. her hands have your dress bunched up your legs, grabbing your hips tight enough to leave marks even through the clothing's material. her teeth nip at your neck gently, making a small gasp come from you before she starts sucking on the skin to leave a dark bruise. "god..." you sigh out.

hearing this, sophia pulls away from your neck and stares into your eyes. "god?" she says quietly. "oh darling...there is no god."

opening your eyes, you let out a gasp when you see her eyes, and her hand instantly clamps over your mouth to keep you from screaming with her other holding you in place against the wall. those red eyes, the exact ones you were told about. the ones that belonged to the demons of the night. they were staring right at you. you weren't sure if you were breathing at this point, fear completely overpowering your body keeping you in place.

"you listen very closely my dear," sophia starts, her voice low. "i came here to find the one with the guitar. if you cooperate with me and the others, then we'll spare your little town. what do you have to do? bring her to me, and nothing will happen to anyone. understand?"

you quickly nod your head, and she slowly removes her hand from your mouth. "are you going to kill me?" you whisper.

"no." she shakes her head. "but you're going to be one of us now."

before you can even process the words, she's grabbing your nape and biting you in the neck. a sharp gasp leaves your mouth as you feel the pain immediately upon her fangs digging into your throat. your hands grasp at her, trying to push her off of you but your body is getting weaker by the second, your heartbeat is slowing, your head feels heavy, your vision is growing dark.

this is it. this is how you die. in the arms of a demon of the night that you stupidly thought nothing of. you know it. your eyes flutter shut, and you barely feel your body drop to the ground.

"don't worry dear, everything will be fine."

[lyssakinzzz]

Hey! I’m the girl you just replied to like a minute ago

Could you just make a story like in modern times( like in 1980’s or 90’s) and where she’s a miss USA and he finds her SO PRETTY and then after a while she rounds out he a vampire and he thinks she’ll be scared and leave him but she’s lowkey like “ I like that🤭” and then smut takes place and THEN she founds out she’s pregnant and so he turns her into a vampire.

Sorry if this too much to write 😭

SHES BACKKK YUH YUH YUH TYH

Twilight? BUT THANKS FOR PULLING UP AGIANNNNNB

You tie your curls up, in a elegant bun and put on beautiful, sliver heels that went with your dress perfectly. You slip on white gloves and stared at your face for any imperfections or crease in your makeup.

You've been winning pagents since you could talk, everyone said you had potential physically, you were voted most likely to be a model in your yearbook for godsakes! There was everyway that you were gonna win this.

"Introducing our southern belle, y/n l/n, from Clarksdale,Mississippi!" The announcer hollered as you strutted out and down the run way, a flashing smile on your face. The judges narrowed their eyes at you before clearing their throats.

"What's the most serious topic to you, right now"

------♡--------

Music blasted at the house of one of the pagent girls, she insisted there should be a party after the comprehensive questions during the pagents, she said it was too stressful and for us to make it this far was a miracle. The other girls were dancing as you got another drink, you saw this guy at the door, looking a bit werid...but something compelled you to him, almost like he was in your head.

"Hey, man." You said, taking a good look at him. He looked...old not physically but his style was...something.

"Hey, little lady. I was wondering if you would let me in?" He smiled, he had a little accent to him. You cock your head.

"Why you some sorta axe murderer?" You narrow your eyes, trying to intimidate him. He chuckled.

"Now, now, no need to get hostile." He chuckled. You didn't laugh back.

"Brit!" You call out as one of the pagent girls stumbles over drunkenly.

"You know him?" You questioned, britanny shook her head before losing her balance a bit.

"Just, let him in!" She whined, you gave her alert eyes.

"You, come in!" She declared, dragging him inside. You rolled your eyes and walk back to the main party, as the man chuckled and walked in.

"So, a pretty girl like you must have a name, huh?" He smirked trying to flirt, you look him up and down before scoffing and walking off.

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

"And the winner of Miss USA is...Y/n L/n!" You shrieked as you got crowned and your bouquet, you smiled and waved as tears formed in your eyes, some stared with joy or envy, but you didn't really care right now. The pagent ended, quickly after that and you needed to celebrate! So, you held a little party at your apartment, you invited everyone who participated and finally decided to relax, knowing you've won. So, you the man from a couple of weeks ago join in on the party! He was attractive, you were attractive. It was harmless, you thought as you opened the door for him.

You drank with him on your couch as the other girls left. You basically interviewed him, his name was Remmick, he was in his late twenties, and he was Irish.

"You ever think of going back there?" You questioned sipping on beer. His eyes lit up.

"Mhm, it's just different." He sighed before standing up to stretch his legs, as everyone else left. You cock your head looking at him before getting up and planting one on him.

He looked a little shocked but kissed back, you giggle as you watched him go crazy over such a little gesture, he sat you down on the edge of the couch set playing with your panties a bit as he kissed your thighs, you let out a soft faint moan as he took off your panties before licking at your clit, you sigh and slowly lean back on the couch.

"Oh..." you softly make out, as he started to pick up the pace and lap at your folds, you groan as you arch your back a bit and whine, he smirked up at you, before going back to lapping you up.

You moved back a bit feeling too stimulated, he groaned and dragged you even closer to you as he bit your thigh. You whined shooting up and moaned, his teeth were unusually sharp. But it didn't interest you until you swore his eyes were a deep shade of ruby, you did a double take feeling a bit alarmed until he stuck is tongue in you. You feel back and moaned as he continued to lap you up.

"Shit..." you gasped out as you arched your back, fuck he was awesome at these. Like he had centuries of expertise, of experience. You thought as you whined and finally let go in his mouth. He lapped up your juices before lifting his head and smirking at you. You bit your lip to hid your growing smile, as you gazed up at him.

"Mmm, you want more of that, darling" he questioned whilst playing with your ends and not maintaining any eye contact with you, it honestly baffled you how indifferent he looked after all of that. You still nodded as a non-verbal answer to his question, he smirked and laid you down on the soft couch and put a pillow behind you to ensure comfort. He lifted his shirt showing you his chiseled chest, and abs and a trail of hair leading down to his cock, you bit your lip looking down, as he chuckled.

"What do you want, baby?" He asked, soaking in your lustfilled expression.

"You." You answered, more so whined shortly.

"You gotta be more specific on what you want, love." He countered, stepping closer to your resting body

This asshole was teasing you.

You cock your head and give him pleading eyes.

"Put it in." You whispered.

"Put what in?" He teased. "You want some of this" he stuck 2 fingers in you and you sucked in air.

"No..." you whined in pleasure. His fingers just didn't cut it.

He fiddled with his belt and took off his lower clothes to reveal a thick and girthy cock, it was exactly what your greedy cunt needed.

"Oh this old thing? You should've just told me, I like a women who speaks her mind." He chuckled. You were so close to kicking him out if he didn't feel so good.

You hissed, sucking in air as you felt the familiar sense of pain and pleasure, he moaned in your ear. It was crazy how deep down such a man was desperate for you you gripped on to his tawny hair as he finally slammed in, and that tough demeanor went out the window, immediately at the feeling of your tight walls. All these centuries on this planet and he's going crazy over a little bit of action.

God, this man was pathetic

Your eyes fluttered as you digged your nails into his back.

"Mmm...feel how gah tight you are for me." He moaned out in your ear, he still yearned for that control but he just couldn't regain it, he was too whiny, he wanted you too badly. He just couldn't emite the aura needed.

You whined as he kept slamming into you like a cycle he just had to follow, you look at him through you lashes and that does it for him. He mutters an apology as he filled you up.

You gasp as you feel the hot liquid seep into you. He slowly let you lie down, and tried to open up your legs again. You shut them, teasing him. Did you want him between your thighs? Yes. Did you wanna make this easy for him? Absolutely not.

"Baby, please...I'll be so good, I'll get on my hands and knees and beg for another taste, just so I can hear your pretty voice, return the favor. Please?" He begged trying to spread your shut thighs.

You stayed quiet. You wanted to see how this went, I mean how he was so audible during sex. Just turned you on.

"I'll show you a good time, please..." He begged a tight grip on your thighs.

"Dont you think that's enough for you, for one night." You hummed sitting up, it was way harder than you made it look. He stood up looking like a spoiled child denied his favourite candy. He groaned and got up and got dressed, you give him a light smirk as he fastened his belt, you dragged your foot and played with his clothed cock, again. You smirked as he breathed heavily.

"Bye, Remmick!" You giggled playing with your necklace as he raised his hand and left.

-----------

You knew no one would believe you, maybe the very few hoodoo women back home, but something was just eating from you, you couldn't keep anything down you were loosing dangerous amounts of weight and you lost your period. You had an inkling you were pregnant, but why else would you have lost so much weight. You sigh and bit your lip as you walked in to a shack. You were never within the hoodoo or voodoo life style down home, you knew it existed, you had a few aunties who had it as a profession, but you were just, not one of them.

So, this truly baffled you when you went to see a practitioner, you never thought in your years of life you would ever do this, but here you were inhaling a mix of sage and bergamot, while she examined you.

"Have you met someone new?" She questioned and you nodded, you felt too sick to respond to her questions.

"Hm...does he always ask for invitations before coming in to a space?" She questioned, and you nodded. Her eyes widened.

"Does he only come at night?" She questioned, like it was the final piece to a puzzle She couldn't solve in her youth.

"My, my..." she exclaimed, horrified yet....intrigued.

"You're pregnant...by a vampire." She admitted a little breathless and baffled. You're eyes widened, as you slowly processed this information.

Shit.

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

When Remmick came over you opened the door with a stake In hand, fuming.

"Give me one good fucking reason to not tie you up and torture you!" You shrieked your hand shaking, as you gripped on to it tight, you had on a mojo bag and silver jewelry. He examined you and chuckled.

"Well, shit. You know I do love me a smart lady." He chuckled adjusting his pants as you threw holy water on him, kind of like your little slap, but it actually hurt for him.

He winced, but tried to keep his temper in check. He straightened up and examined you, he kissed your forehead.

"Dont be mad, love...I think this is an asset..." He whispered, sweetly. He was obviously trying to butter you up just a bit to stay with him.

"What's makes it so good?" You questioned your voice shaking.

"Well for starters, I have years of experience, I'll never eat your leftovers, and think how amazing your monthly would be." He smirked at the last part. You were sort of considering it, you groaned. He was hot, was a good man to you, and how were you gonna raise a vampire baby alone. You whined as you shook him off, you still had the stake gripped tightly in your hand.

"I'm pregnant" you muttered, looking down directly at the floor, like a naughty child. He looked dumbfounded.

"Well, I guess I'm not shooting blanks after all." He laughed as he picked you up, and twirled you, you pursed your lips to hid your growing smile.

----------

Months have passed, you were expected to become a vampire straight after the baby came, pregnancy was funky, but vampire one was insane, you were drinking blood! You needed to give birth fast, you tried everything to induce it, yoga, spices, walks, sex. None of them worked, you lie in bed while remmick hunted as you rubbed your belly in Shea butter, to prevent stretch marks as you hummed a little melody to your unborn daughter, to calm her down. She was fairly active today, you sleepily flutter your eyes as you slowly relaxed, you were on the verge of relaxing when false labor kept stopping you from being relaxed, you whined as you kept feeling it, you winced as you felt the uncomfortable pain again, you heard Remmick come in hoping he could sing to the baby to calm her down, she was real rowdy.

"Remmie!" You call out, he had a love hate relationship with that nickname, but still put up with it. "Can you calm her down she's way too aah-" You inhale sharply, okay now that hurt. You groaned as you felt your water break, and saw remmick panic yet, his crimson eyes filled with excitement yet worry as he called the midwife, he managed to find a midwife who agreed to deliver a half vampire baby, and who had knowledge of this, well. Phenomenon.

Within the morning you managed to welcome a beautiful baby girl, Remmick had acute burns on him. You loved the sun, and you were not gonna let him implement black out curtains in your apartment. You winced as you looked at Remmicks little burns, you probably should've listened, you had the baby on your chest as the midwife was telling Remmick about how the birth went, and told him about post partum recovery. You looked down at the baby, she looked like Remmick, you felt a little annoyed about how she spent nine months living directly off your nutrients and in YOUR womb, just to look like him, but you still loved her just as much. You blinked your tired eyes as you take her in, you started feeding her, and watched her slowly latch on to you, you smile as she drank your milk with greed. You turned to watch the midwife leave as Remmick thanked her, and started paying his attention to your little girl. He smiled down at her and played with her little fist, she was a bit too distracted to even notice her dad was playing with her, you chuckled. The girl didn't not play with her food. I smile as she finally had her fill and noticed her dad, he greeted her and she went crazy with happiness, she clearly recognized his voice. I give him to her, golden hour was up, and I knew she was gonna love her dad more anyways.

-----------

"Angel, give her t'me!" He whined as you held your 4 month old daughter.

"No, I barely get time with her! Stop being a baby hogger!" You clapped back as you bounced her, the poor girl didn't get anything that was going on.

"She's my daughter!" He argued, crossing his arms. This man really thought he had a strong case.

"And? I spent 14 hours in labour!" You yelled, that shut him up. He sat back down with a bit of a pout.

"Plus, she loves mommy more, ain't that right?"

GUYS IM GONNA BE PUMPING OUT FICS SO SLOW I HAVE TO DO SHIT FOR THIS FUCK ASS SCHOOL OML!

[tobeafangirl]

a warm welcome

Words: 6,819 Rating: M (language, underage drinking, teasing, slight exhibitionism, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, harry is a bit of a sub oops) Type: Oneshot (Harry Styles x Reader) A/N: This is actually an old fic I reworked, might be posting a few of those while I am writing my currents. Gotta keep my lovelies fed.

Secondary school was complicated and parties were stupid. You had only lived in London for around a month now and when it came to making friends or even being noticed, you failed. So far you have only acquired one friend, Maddy, a girl who is currently not being such a good friend right now since she was planning to drag you along to a party. But not just any party, oh no.

“It’s Jessica Knox.” You said as you smoothed down the small skirt that could be an inch or two longer. 

“She’s my friend, and a lot less intimidating than you think.” Maddy reassured me for maybe the tenth time today, you just couldn’t shake the very familiar feeling of misplacement – like you didn’t belong. “Listen, (Y/N), I was the new girl once, I was awkward, weird, and all around I felt like a walking embarrassment. But these people took me in as one of their own --- I really think you are going to fit in perfectly.” Maddy’s words were inspiring, always were. She knew how to say the right things at the right time. So, with a tug of your skirt for the last time, you announced that you were ready for whatever the night had in store.

Jessica’s house was more than impressive, delicate on the outside, huge on the inside. You wondered what it was like to see the house empty, what it would be like to roam the halls as a guest, maybe a friend. The music was loud, booming from an unknown source as various bodies swayed to the beat. It smelled strongly of sweat and faintly of cigarettes, a mix that one could get lost in, you nearly found yourself in the mystical world until Maddy tugged at your arm pulling you towards a small group of people.

Stacy was the first person to greet you. You had seen her around the halls and never had spoken, she was the wild card of the group, always too bold, loud, and yet caring in a way that proved right in her own mind. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)!” 

Next to be introduced was the party thrower herself, Jessica, looking as stunning as the sunshine. There was something about the way she carried herself, so elegant, wise, but still never put you in a position where you felt the lesser. “I really like your outfit, it has a lot more taste than some of these girls here.” She points slyly in the direction of a girl, sloppily grinding on a guy while wearing a near-to-nothing leopard print dress – as if that was still in style. Jessica rolled her eyes, it made you laugh. You were starting to think that maybe you would get along with these people after all.

Then there was Niall, the lover boy. Him and Maddy had been going strong for a while now, and honestly, you couldn’t blame her. Something about those baby blues and Irish accent really intrigued you, there was a story behind that boy and you wanted to figure it out. Although you two just met, the swift haired boy pulled you into a hug and welcomed you with literal open arms. “(Y/N)! Maddy has been telling me a lot about you! Welcome to London!” You couldn’t believe that these people were being so nice, it almost felt unreal.

The last was a boy standing with a puzzled look on his face. “This is Harry.” Maddy introduced him. His name clung in your mind in a way that was unnecessary but you tried to shake that away. He looked nervous for some reason, but it was in a cute way. Darting eyes, small pink muscles coming out to wet his lips. Nervous looked well on him. He must have realized because sooner than later a smile rose upon his face, all his features lighting up as the corners of his lips lifted. His eyes sparkled, flickering of all these colors. You were almost mesmerized, so much so that you almost didn’t hear him speak. “I think we have a class together, forensics?” His eyebrows raised, if this boy was in one of your classes, how come you have never noticed? With eyes like his, you were sure to be able to spot him in a crowd. “Yeah.” You breathed out, were you holding your breath? How embarrassing. “Staccato, real pain huh?” You tried to redeem yourself, it worked for the most part, making the dark chestnut haired boy laugh. 

“Now that we are all acquainted, let’s dance, shall we?” Maddy squealed as she took your hand, leading you out on the dance floor with Stacy and Jessica in tow. You danced, you swayed, all four of you even bounded while out on the dance floor. To say the night was going great would be an understatement. However, the night was young and those three beautiful girls found a guy to dance the night away with while you drifted away into the crowd. The one sad thing about coming to a party without a guy is being without a guy. And if you add the nerves and anxiety to the table, meeting one didn’t seem like a possibility for you. Earlier that night being proof, the way things went down with Harry was embarrassing enough.

You found myself easing your way to the outside world, the night air drawing you out like some kind of special mating call. It was nice, the light thumping of the music mixing with the calm of the night. Like a scene from a movie, you felt like a star. “You too?” You heard from beneath you, causing you to jump back a bit, startled. Laying on the grass was a Harry, a slightly drunk, smiling, adorable looking Harry. “Yeah, it was getting a bit much in there.” You commented. His hand sprawled out beside him, patting on the grass for you to take a seat. You took a moment to admire his hands, they were huge and supporting these veins that made you bite your lip in awe. Your eyes followed a few of them up until they disappeared in the flannel, making you only wonder what was underneath. You sat, finally, and his goofy smile grew wider. 

“Why here? Why London?” He asked lazily and you couldn’t fight the dancing smile on your face. “At first I thought it was for a fresh start, to get away from the dreaded town I came from but it turns out it was for a guy.” You let out a defeating sigh, as Harry brought himself up onto his elbows. He looked slightly hurt, a little sad. “Y-you came here for a guy?” he asked, looking up at you through lashes that looked beautiful and faux. “No, no. My mother did. I was just a tagalong.” You told him and you could swear that you saw relief on his face. 

“So, no boyfriend?” Was Harry’s next question. It wouldn’t have caught you off guard if his eyes weren’t filled with hope, it was enough to make your stomach feel like a home for butterflies. “No.” You answered shyly, ducking your head down as you did. You didn’t want him to see you blush. “Good.” You didn’t have to look to know he had moved. His voice was extremely close and it dared you to look up, but you didn’t have to, fingers were placed under your chin lifting your head. Bright eyes were met with dark ones and you knew what was about to happen.

Your heart was pounding, beating so fast that you were afraid he could hear it. He was so close that you could smell the warm whiskey on his breath, it was intoxicating your mind and you soon found your eyes closing on their own, beckoning for the small gap to be closed. And it was. Cold soft parted lips pressed against warm ones and it was like two opposite worlds colliding in the best possible ways. 

It was as if time was standing still. You didn’t know this boy, not a single thing about him, and yet you felt like you’ve known him forever. It took one small movement from you, a slight touch to the cheek and it was like it flipped a switch, as if he was waiting for approval before letting go. His fingers laced in your hair, pulling you into him daringly close. A shiver going down your spine as you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip. You took no time in accepting the offer, letting your tongue slip past his lips. He let out a soft hum at the sensation and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

“Holy shit.” Your head snapped to the side at the words, standing there was Niall and Maddy looking down at you two with probably the biggest grins you’ve ever seen in your life. Harry didn’t seem to mind the loss of your lips however, he found his way down to your neck, causing you to stifle a moan as the couple watched with raised eyebrows and sly smiles.

“Harry.” You whispered trying to get his attention, and he hummed in approval, his teeth sinking into your skin making your eyes flutter, your nails digging into his shoulder. “You like that?” He murmured onto your skin and you could feel yourself turn bright red. “Yeah, (Y/N), do you like that?” Niall asked as Maddy giggled.

Harry's head snapped up at the voice, his face and neck became blotchy with bright red, looking at you with apologizing eyes. 

“We should probably get going.” Maddy said, gripping your hand and helping you up as you situated yourself. “Yeah, it is kind of late.” You replied with a nod, putting it off as if you were tired even though you doubted sleep was in your schedule tonight. Maddy gave Niall a knowing look before dragging you through the thinning out dance floor.

“I think the real question is did you like that?” You heard Niall’s laugh as you walked away followed by a stumbling Harry. “Shut up! You know, this is why I can never get a girl because of you and your – face.” More laughter came from Niall, “How about just getting your drunk ass in the jeep?” And with a final defeat, “Okay.” that was all you could hear of the conversation before you were bombarded by questions from Maddy.

“What just happened?” Was the first.

“Was he a good kisser? Because I’ve always been curious.” Was the second, that one made your brows fly up a bit too high.

“Dish the details, girl!” The only answer you could give her was the big plastered smile across your face.

Maybe London was going to treat you well after all. 

***

It had been three days since your very eventful night at Jessica’s party and you were still dealing with the endless teasing and questions. However, the person you’d rather be hearing from somehow had disappeared from the face of the earth. You hadn’t seen Harry at all, which was odd since him and Niall were usually inseparable. You wanted to talk to him, to possibly try and salvage something between you two, even if it was just friendship.

You don’t know what came over you that night, but there was no regret on your part. His lips have been dancing in your mind for the past few nights, waking you up in a sweat just before things got heated between the two of you. Part of you deemed yourself crazy for thinking like that about someone who was technically a stranger, but another part of you was yearning to experience your dreams in person.

The bell rang and it caused you to grip onto your book a little tighter. It was time for your forensic class, the one class you had with Harry. This was the make or break moment. He was either going to speak to you or act like you were nonexistent and you debated internally on which one you truly wanted. “Here goes nothing.” You whispered to yourself, holding your head up high as you turned the corner entering your classroom.

So maybe you slightly over reacted, in fact, he was not even in class yet. You let a sigh out and took a seat, watching as the crowd grew as the class filled. There was still no sign of Harry, and you could feel your stomach churn at that. Was he avoiding class because of me? You thought to yourself as you felt your body start to seep into your seat even more than usual.

“Okay class, this will be a partnering project for today. So, without further ado, find yourself someone and get seated – We don’t have all day!” Within seconds’ chairs were filled and partners were set, you didn’t know many people so it was not as if you stood out as a potential partner for anyone. It looked as if to be another day where you would be paired up with the teacher, again. 

You placed your head in your hands, sighing for the seventh time. The guy you liked was ignoring you, no one ever took the time to get to know you, and now you had to partner with some mid-aged man who tried too hard to ‘keep up with the times’. You could have possibly catapulted yourself across the room until you felt the presence of someone sitting down beside you. Removing your hands, your eyes quickly adjusted to a familiar goofy smile sitting beside you. Harry.

It was silent, awkward. You didn’t even get to croak out the soft ‘Hi’ hanging in your throat before Mr. Staccato started to speak, giving out the instructions of what the project had in store. You watched as Harry took notes while acting mysteriously normal. It was practically eating you alive. You needed to talk to him, to know what he was thinking and what the other night meant to him.

You took a deep breath, waiting for the teacher to stop dragging on before you spoke. “I know things got a bit crazy the other night, and I’m sorry – not that I regret anything, I just don’t want things to be awkward between us. We are going to see each other – obviously, and I don’t want—“ Your rambling was embarrassing, you knew that. You knew you were talking too much and that you were probably digging yourself the biggest hole but what you didn’t expect was the reaction you got. 

You didn’t expect Harry to have a small smirk placed upon his face as he looked down at his book so innocently, didn’t expect his hand to be caressing and rubbing soft circles on the warm flesh of your thigh. Didn’t expect to be thanking all the gods that you decided to wear that daring skirt that starred at you in your closet. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, eyes widening at the boy beside you.

“Harry!” You hissed at him, which he responded to with a hum. His hand was inching up at an agonizing slow pace, causing a warm sensation to stir between your legs, you could feel yourself getting wet at the idea of what was going on and to say it was driving you insane would be an understatement. “Think you can answer the last two questions for me?” Harry whispered in your ear and when did he get so damn close?

His hand was still now, no longer moving on your skin but so close to your core that you could feel the heat from his body and it made you want to buck your hips in anticipation.  “Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head slowly. You knew you were blushing, you could feel it, and it felt like the entire class was staring at you although that was nowhere near the case.

Speaking of cases, you had to answer the last two questions on a case study that you had not been paying attention to at all. “Consulting pictures A-D what can you tell us about the crime scene?” You gasped, but not because the question caught you off guard but because of Harry fingers that were ghosting over your underwear, teasing you in all of the oh-so-right ways. 

“Uh –“ Your eyes flickered over the pictures, trying to come up with an answer. Your mind was running a mile a minute and as you glanced at Harry with the most pleading eyes, he did fuck all but smirk in response, causing you to clench your fists as you made a mental note to get back at him for this.

It was then when he applied pressure, his fingers skillfully running over your slit in the most exciting of ways. As if on cue, the bell rang as you let out a moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Okay class, like I said, we do not have all day. However, I do expect this to be done and completed by – You guessed it, Friday!” Mr. Staccato’s voice snapped you back to reality. Well that and the loss of Harry's intimate touch.

“You really need to start paying attention in class. We can finish this later. My place? Seven?” Although it came out as a question, he didn’t mean it as one. It was more of a demand and somehow you were okay with that. You didn’t respond though, you didn’t have to, the dumbfounded look on your face being well enough of an answer. Harry then stood, “Maybe after that, we can finish the project.” His voice was low, eyes were playful as he turned on his heels exiting the room before you could speak.

Did that really just happen? It took you a minute to compose yourself. “Shower. I need a cold shower.” You breathed, as you grabbed your things quickly walking your way to your next class. You couldn’t get what just happened out of your head, or even better what was going to happen later. Your body was still tingling from his touch before, you only wondered what else his fingers could do. 

The time seemed to pass eerily slow as you jingled your keys in your hand. You had been sitting in your car for about ten minutes awaiting the perfect time to leave. Worst part was, Harry's house wasn’t too far from yours, so you knew your drive would be short, the clock struck 6:45 pm and you cranked your car, trying your best to ready yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

When you arrived, you walked slowly up the steps, you could feel your palms begin to get clammy and by the looks of the lack of cars out front, you knew he had to be the only one home. Nervous was an understatement at this point. You knocked, the door almost instantly opening as Harry appeared. He had changed from earlier, plain gray shirt and sweatpants now covered his body and you couldn’t stop yours eyes from raking over him.

He stepped aside, allowing you in. No words had been spoken yet and it made you slightly frown. He glanced back at you, giving you the signal to follow him as you two made it up to his room. It was dimly lit, and you wondered if he had planned that out. “It’s crazy, how much you’ve been going through my mind.” He closed the door behind you two, you could feel his hot breath on your neck, sending chills down your spine as strong hands gripped your waist. “You’ve put a spell on me.” He whispered, “But I like it.” He nipped at your ear with the last word and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned so you were facing him, everything happening at a pace that probably seemed much faster than it really was. You kissed him desperately as his back hit the door behind him and he chuckled in the kiss. You couldn’t help yourself, all the teasing and games were driving you crazy. He had said you put a spell on him but really, he had been the one to cast the spell.

It didn’t take him long to catch up however, tongue tracing your bottom lip as you granted him entrance. He couldn’t keep his hands still, they were in your hair, waist, sliding up the back of your shirt. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you and there were no complaints. “Bed.” You said against his lips, his feet moving instantly, making sure not to break the intimate contact between you two.

Although you hated to part from his lips, the dancing images of earlier that day came flooding back to your head and you knew you had to get him back for it. Staring at him with bashful eyes you slipped your shirt over your head causing Harry to suck in a breath at the sight. You smirked, you liked that you had that power over him. Next, you stripped your pants away and you could feel his eyes boring into you, it almost made you blush. You pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him. “No fair.” You whispered as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he got the message and took his shirt off in a hurry. He kept reaching for you, trying to kiss you, but you slapped his hands away, you were in control now.

“Please.” His voice was below a whisper and the way he sounded so shattered made you want to give in and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you had to stay strong. “Tell me what you want.” You beckoned, leaving a hot trail of kisses down his neck. You made sure to pay attention to his sweet spot, sucking a soft red mark onto the skin. Your lips kept moving downward, connecting with his collarbone, you felt his breath hitch in his throat. His body vibrating beneath you was absolutely beautiful.

You kissed your way down his chest, taking your time and paying attention to every muscle, every inch. His body was art and you were admiring it. The whimpers that were releasing from his mouth was also a very nice feature. “You.” He breathed, “I want you.” And you debated on actually giving him that. You reached his sweatpants, hands quickly to slide under them, pushing the thick fabric down to his knees. 

Kissing along the top of his briefs, the moan that left his lips surprised you. You had been with a few guys before, but you had never had this effect on them. You smirked, eyeing his bulge before you kissed it gently. Throwing his head back against the pillows, he let out another moan. You palmed him slowly, sweet sounds escaping him. You were starting to realize this was hurting you more than it was hurting him. You had to stick to the plan.

You had to get out of there.

Stopping abruptly, you stood up. You were silent as you started to pull on your clothes. “Wh—What are you doing?” His voice was soft but you didn’t answer, just looked at him. He was sitting up and yet still sprawled out. His eyes were glazed over and he looked lost in his own world. You took mental pictures for later. “I actually have to go.” You said calmly, tugging your shirt down. “You can’t just – We were – You can’t leave me like this!” He directed your attention to the throbbing state you left him in. “So, I can’t tease you like you tease me?” You raised an eyebrow.

He connected the dots then, his eyes narrowing at you. “You’re going to pay for this.” And there was that smirk, “I’m counting on it.” You replied, taking no time to rush your way out of his bedroom door. Your body was beating you up for leaving, missing his touch already, but this was all part of a bigger plan – a game if you will, and there was no way you’d be losing. 

***

Vibration seeped through your body. It was from the continuous stomping of the people around you. It was game night and you were here to cheer on your school, it also helped there was a curly haired boy who looked pretty damn good in the light burgundy jersey. “Now it’s time to get out there and kick some ass!” Coach yelled after one of his huge pep talks, causing the boys to get riled up and ready for a good game. “Not you Horan, sit down. No one wants you out there.” You couldn’t help but smile, Harry giving you a small wave before he went to take his position on the field, you were so lost inside your own mind, swimming with the things you’d like to do to the boy, you almost didn’t hear Maddy talking to you.

“He likes you. I think it’s cute.” You laughed softly at her words, if she only knew. The last few weeks between you and Harry had been something else. It was filled with secret looks that only you two understood, followed by under the table hand jobs and hickies that were becoming too hard to cover up after 10 minute breaks between classes. The thoughts caused a smirk to appear on your face, although things had been pretty heated it hadn’t passed the threshold of no return yet. Oh no, you were saving that for tonight. 

You knew it would be perfect, the boy would be slightly worn from all the activity. He would have aches and small pains and you’d help him relax, maybe a little too much at first and he’d be somewhat confused, but he would get it. He always got it eventually, and when he did, it was like a whirlwind of excitement. His eyes lighting up, his hands becoming grabby in all the right areas. You had to squeeze your thighs tight together at the thought, pushing back your urges until later. 

Roaring applause filled your ears, snapping you back to the real world. You figured the team had scored as you watched Harry jump up into the air, his shirt lifting in a way that should be casual, but it was so much more to you. As it probably was to half the crowd. Apparently, Harry believed that no one in this school found him attractive, but you knew he was dead wrong. Would you tell him that? No way in hell. The thought of him being with someone else shot a pang to your heart.

You must admit, for something that was only supposed to be fun, you were getting a little more attached than you previously thought you would. Harry had become almost everything. He was the guy you called when you needed help with homework, even though you only ended up making out. He was the one who drove you around because you didn’t want to go home and deal with your mum. He was the one who thought about you and brought you things to brighten your day, it was like dating without the official tagline, it was something different.

The game ended with surprising results. Forty-seven to nineteen, we won. It’s not like they were horrible at the game, Maddy had said they always seemed to win and come out on top, but the difference was quite unbelievable, especially for the first game of the season, and it caused for a celebration. Everyone found themselves back at Jessica’s house as always, bodies swaying again to the mind-numbing music. This time however, it was different. You weren’t a scared new comer who didn’t know anyone, you weren’t dancing and getting to know people all at once. It was quite nice to fit in.

Your back was pressed firmly to the wall behind you, eyes drifting over Harry and he took a sip of his beer lazily. It was cute, watching sleep seep into him as he tried his hardest to celebrate with his friends. His face brightened when he saw you, excusing himself from his fellow teammates as he brought himself over to you. The smile on his face was cozy, it made you laugh. “What? Do I have beer on me?” Harry instantly started to feel himself, pressing his shirt to reveal the muscles underneath. You had to bite down on your bottom lip, that feeling from earlier coming back between your legs. “No, just admiring.” 

Lifting your hand, you raked your fingers through his slightly messy and tangled hair, causing his eyebrow to arch. You two were touchy in public, but never to this extent. It always seemed friendly, or they tried to make it look that way at least, but right now you didn’t care who looked or stared. You were going to look at him with glazed eyes, and he was going to sigh at your touch, and the people around you were slowly disappearing. A smirk appeared on his face, and he leaned down, lips contacting the shell of your ear. “Are you trying to start something?” His voice was hot and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just want to take care of you.”

Those words were all it took, Harry took your hand and led you upstairs, his tired eyes showing some gleam of light. You found yourselves in the guest bedroom, locking yourself in as the music turned into a dull thump. “Bed.” You said before he could speak, you heard a small chuckle come from him as he sat at the edge of the bed. You could feel his eyes on you, and they dared you to turn around. “Shirt off.” You demanded again, you didn’t have to look at him to know his eyebrows were lifting, probably an all too happy smile on his face. You heard the rustle of clothing, first the sound of a loose-fitting flannel hitting the floor, followed by a slight heavier thud of a shirt. You grinned, finally turning around. Eyes gliding over skin, landing on a pair of perfect pink lips that were curved slightly. 

You walked around him slowly, his neck craning to follow your every move. You crawled on the bed behind him, balancing yourself on your knees as you pressed your chest against his back. “You seem tense.” You cooed, fingers grasping his shoulders, working the pad of your fingertips into the tender muscle. Harry closed his eyes, head falling forward as a groan fell from his lips. You giggled, leaning down to press kisses along his neck and your fingers continued to work magic on his shoulders.

The sight beneath you was absolutely breathtaking. There was Harry, mouth agape as his head pressed back into your chest. Soft noises would escape him from time to time and you constantly thought about how lucky you were that it was you that was in this room with him. His eyes fluttered as you pressed a small kiss to his temple, something innocent enough, but he knew your intentions. The smirk on his face was apparent. You kissed him again, but this time softly on his lips. It causes the fluttering to stop and eyes to open. Your hands began to move, to explore the body in front of you, nails across back, light touches on chest, anything you could do to tease and drive him restlessly up a wall. 

“(Y/N)” Your name left as a moan from his lips, and that was all that you needed. You were surprised that you had held on for this long, your stomach doing flips as your lips connect to his. The position was awkward but the kiss was sweet. Sending waves down your body as you move your way around him, straddling his lap as you pressed your clothed chest against his bare hand. “Not fair.” He whispered, tugging your shirt at the bottom, indicating he wanted it off and as soon as possible. A call back, one that made her smile. You let him slip your shirt over your head, cold hands pressing against soft warm flesh. It was enough to make you suck in a breath. You could feel him hardening beneath you, and it caused your hips to move involuntarily, bucking down and colliding with his. You moan in unison, the fact that he felt this good against you and you were still clothed was a scary fact.

“Tonight. I want to tonight.” Your voice was low, you almost didn’t recognize it and he gave you a look of question. He probably thought this was still a game, probably thought you’d get so eerily close before pulling away. Maybe it was the dark intensity in your eyes, but he realized this was no longer some play thing, that you really meant what you said and his fingers gripped your hips at that, dragging your hips against his in a sweet way. 

His lips were on the move at that point, planting kisses along your jawline and down to the crook of your neck. He made sure to leave his mark this time, wanting everyone to know he finally got what he was after, that he finally got you. He left wet hot kisses down the valley of your breast, his fingers fumbling behind you, his eagerness causing a small giggle to escape you. You reach behind you, stop his frantic hands and unclasping your bra for him, allowing him to do the rest of the work. 

A smirk was placed on your face as you watched his eyes widen and he slid the straps down your shoulders. It was not your first time bare in front of Harry and yet he looked at you as if it was, it caused you to feel a bit self-conscious, having a nervous feeling coming over you as the instinct to cover yourself came to mind. He however noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your hand before you could do anything. “Beautiful.” His words were soft, “I don’t say it often, but you, (Y/N), are absolutely beautiful.” 

Maybe it was those words that set a fire inside of you that you had never felt before, or maybe it was Harry soft lips caressing you in places that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. You don’t know how it happened, but within seconds you were flipped, back pressed into the mattress. You let out a small whimper at the loss of his lips, the warmth of him being away from you causing pain. He was taking you in, the sight of you, as his fingers worked the button of your jeans and you cursed yourself for not wearing a skirt like Jessica has suggested, but you couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t take the slow sweet pace Harry was trying to set up, you reached, crashing his lips back down to yours in almost a bruising manner, this time he was the one who was whimpering. 

Finally, fabric was removed as Harry got the hint, nothing but thin material separated you two from what you really wanted and it caused a delicious sigh to leave you as Harry lips began to trail, leaving hot wet kisses down your stomach to the place you needed him the most.

Although it was not as slow as it seemed, it felt like it took forever for him to remove your final piece of clothing, the only thing that was keeping you from what you wanted. His lips felt soft and warm as he kissed up your thighs, you could feel your muscles tense at how close he was, your fingers wrapped in the sheets with anticipation, you could feel your breath start to quicken. The sharp noise that left your mouth when his lips finally came in contact with your folds was almost inhuman and you could just feel the smirk placed upon his lips as his tongue poked out, licking a long swipe up to your clit, the moans escaping you almost uncontrollable. 

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.” Your hands were now tangled in his curly locks, softly pulling and tugging as you withered on the bed, the expert workings of his tongue causing you to see white. He hummed against you, bringing one of his hands to smooth down your stomach as he brought the other to your entrance. Without warning he pushed two fingers inside of you, “Fuck, Harry!” What left your mouth was somewhat between a whimper and a moan, you could feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten, so close to breaking at any moment, coming close to your orgasm at an alarming rate. “That’s it baby, cum for me.” His voice was low, husky, it sent chills up your spine as you cried out, reaching the edge and tipping off into a world of pure bliss and pleasure.

Harry chuckled as he kissed his way up your body, “Shut up.” You said between soft pants, his lips finding their way to your neck. You could feel him, thick and hard on your thigh, drawing a breath from you as you realized what was about to come. You felt like you had waited your whole life for this moment, to actually be this close to him, to feel him in ways that most wished but hadn’t. He didn’t ask questions, but he didn’t have to. You both knew this is what you wanted, that this was something that had kept the two of you up for the past few weeks. You both knew that this was right.

He lifts your legs, placing them around his waist as he lined himself up with you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you with admiration, taking in the sight before him. With ease, he slid himself inside of you, causing the two of you to let a drawn moan out in unison. You bit your lip at the size of him, you knew he was very gifted in that area, but to actually feel him inside of you was another story. It took a lot for him not to be frantic, you could tell he was holding back as much as possible, wanting this to last longer than the both of you feared it would. His hips moved slowly, trying to find a perfect pace for you two. It was all grunts and moans, and you were pretty sure he had marks down his back by now. “Faster, Harry.” You appreciate him wanting to make things last but with each thrust it sends an agonizing feel of need through your body. He obliged, not even batting an eyelash as his hips started to quicken, with each trust you could feel him getting deeper and deeper, him getting lost in pure lust.

The noises alone were purely erotic, skin against skin, a competition of who could moan the loudest. His teeth were digging into your shoulder, trying to muffle his sounds while your lips pressed against his neck, possibly deafening him with the sound exiting you. The headboard was hitting the wall behind it, and if it weren’t from the loud music that was seeping through the walls, you were sure every person down stairs could hear what was happening. 

“Fuck, (Y/N).” His thrust started to get more frantic, his release nearing him as you could feel your walls begin to tighten around him, your second orgasm coming down on you fast and hard. You gave your final moan, his name leaving your lips as you pulled him as close to you as possible. It was like the world around you stopped, you couldn’t see anything but stars, your heart was beating in your ears. It was the most amazing feeling to ever wash over you. He never slowed, using this new tightness to find his own release as he let out a small cry, hips jerking at random times, his body laying breathlessly on top of you. “Bloody hell, baby.” He breathed, his body rolling off of yours. 

The smile on your face couldn’t be broken as you laughed softly. Lazy eyes looked over at you, one eyebrow lifting. “Shut up.” He mumbled, face flushed from the previous activities. You were amazed that you found him so beautiful, even with small beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, you couldn’t help but find yourself so far in with the boy lying beside you. “So,” You pressed, moving your body closer to him as you placed a hand on his chest. “Round two?” You gave him a small smirk as he chuckled, his fingers lazily tangling in your hair as he sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

[loveesiren]

ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔗𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬

Kwon Jiyong x f!reader

a/n: I'm sorry I'm so rusty and this is so ass lol but I made my dog listen to this song on repeat on my drive home from work and it just inspired me to write some stupid lil fluff. I wanted to post something to convince myself I can still write. Sorry its bad lol I'm overwhelmed rn. if you enjoy please leave a comment. I will write better soon ugh

song: rose tattoo - dropkick murphy's

wc: 2.6k+

warnings: alcohol, drunk tattoos

“That was fucking awesome!” Jiyong groaned as he collapsed onto the velvet couch backstage, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. He ran a hand through his damp hair and took a long swig from his water bottle, letting his head fall back with a blissful sigh. His black tank top clung to him, soaked with sweat, and his heart still pounded in his chest from the high of performing.

“No one told me Ireland parties so hard…” Daesung said through a breathless laugh, toweling off his face. His hair stuck up in different directions, and his cheeks were flushed with exertion.

“They’re wild out there,” Youngbae added, chugging from his water bottle before plopping down on the floor and leaning against the couch. “The crowd was insane.”

Jiyong’s eyes lit up. “We have to go out tonight! Celebrate!”

Youngbae raised an eyebrow at him. “Celebrate what?”

Jiyong didn’t hesitate. His smile widened, softening in a way only they recognized. “Our last night in Europe. And… we’ve got a whole week off. No planes. No soundchecks. No stage makeup. Just sleep, good food, and—” His eyes turned dreamy. “—I get to see Y/n.”

The others groaned, but Jiyong didn’t care. His thoughts had already drifted back to you. The way your voice sounded on late-night calls. The blurry selfies you’d send when you missed him. The scent of your shampoo lingering on his clothes when he unpacked.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jiyong had been with you for six months, but he talked about you like he’d loved you for years. And maybe he had—just hadn’t met you yet. Seunghyun had seen Jiyong fall hard before, but this was different. You weren’t just some pretty distraction. You grounded him. Balanced out the chaos in his head.

He nudged Jiyong with his knee. “So what’s the plan, lover boy?”

Jiyong looked at them all with the fire of a man on a mission. “Drink with the Irish!”

-

The bar they stumbled into wasn’t the kind of place that catered to tourists. It was tucked on a side street, warm and dim, filled with heavy wooden tables, worn leather stools, and an old jukebox humming in the corner. Locals filled every seat, pints in hand, shouting over traditional music that played on a loop. It smelled like aged wood, beer, and something hearty simmering in the back.

Perfect.

No one recognized them, not really—not the older patrons, anyway. The bartender, a gruff older man with thick hands and a thick accent, didn’t flinch when Jiyong ordered a round of whiskey for the table. If anything, he seemed to appreciate the enthusiasm.

They downed their shots, the Jameson burning pleasantly down their throats, and the laughter came easily. They recounted ridiculous moments from the tour—wardrobe malfunctions, mic failures, Jiyong tripping over a stage monitor in Berlin and somehow turning it into a dance move. Every story spun them further into a haze of warmth and nostalgia.

Seunghyun sat back, watching his best friend with quiet amusement. Jiyong’s cheeks were pink now, and his eyes had gone soft and unfocused—not from the alcohol alone, but from the way he kept slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Y/n would love this bar,” he murmured at one point, twirling his glass by the rim. “She always says divey places have better energy. She’d probably be talking to that old couple over there by now. She just… connects with people like that.”

A fond smile curved his lips as he stared at nothing in particular. “I’ve been counting down the days to see her. She sent me this stupid video this morning—just her brushing her teeth and humming our song. But it made my whole day. Like, fuck the sold-out show. I just want to hear her laugh in person again.”

Daesung chuckled. “You’re so gone, man.”

“I am,” Jiyong said without shame, lifting his glass. “I’m fucking gone for her.”

-

Eventually, the whiskey had found its way into every vein, numbing limbs and loosening tongues. The bar had emptied slightly, the once-rowdy crowd thinning into pockets of quiet laughter and half-empty pint glasses. Youngbae was slumped forward at the table, head resting on folded arms, barely clinging to consciousness. Seunghyun had wandered outside for a smoke, needing air and space. Daesung was lost in animated conversation with an older Irish gentleman who reminded him of someone’s grandpa—laughing heartily and clinking glasses like old friends.

Which meant, of course, no one had been keeping an eye on Jiyong.

Tucked in the far corner of the pub, half-lit by a dim wall sconce, he sat grinning beside a stranger. The man was from London, maybe mid-thirties, rough around the edges, with inked knuckles and a travel-worn bag that doubled as a tattoo kit. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and antiseptic and was currently dragging a needle across the top of Jiyong’s left hand.

“How long ya been with her?” the man asked, his voice low and crackly as he wiped away excess ink.

Jiyong’s eyes didn’t leave his phone screen. Your face smiled up at him from the lock screen—a silly selfie you’d sent the morning after he left for tour. Your cheeks were puffy, hair tangled, eyes barely open. You were brushing your teeth with his sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. It had made him cry the first time he saw it.

“Six months,” Jiyong murmured, heart softening. “But it feels like forever, man. She’s… fuck, she’s the love of my life.”

There was a raw, aching honesty in his voice—drunken, yes, but completely sincere.

His throat tightened as he blinked down at your photo. The distance between you wasn’t new, but tonight it felt especially unbearable. He missed your warmth, your voice humming in the dark, the way you’d touch his arm just to ground him. He missed your laugh, the way it shook your whole body when something really caught you off guard.

He missed you. All of you.

His eyes welled again.

“Oi, don’t cry now,” the man said, clearly unsure how to handle it. “Here. Have another shot, yeah? You’ll see her tomorrow.”

Jiyong nodded as he accepted the glass, knocking it back and letting the burn distract him from the knot in his chest. “Three weeks,” he whispered. “It’s been three weeks. And I’ve felt her absence every damn second.”

“Well she’ll bloody love this, mate,” the man said with a smirk, finishing the last strokes of the small rose and your name scrawled beneath it in sharp cursive. The ink was rudimentary—far from professional—but it was clear. Personal and permanent.

Jiyong stared at it with glassy eyes. The skin was red, slightly swollen, smeared with blood and ink. But there it was. Your name. On his hand. Close to his pulse. A promise etched into flesh.

“She’s always with me now,” he said softly, smiling.

“Jiyong, what the hell are you doing?” Youngbae’s voice cut through the haze as he stumbled over. Seunghyun followed right behind, a cloud of smoke still clinging to his coat.

“This is the best tattoo I’ve ever gotten!” Jiyong beamed, lifting his hand like a child showing off a finger painting.

“I’m Luke!” the British man offered with a peace sign.

Neither Youngbae nor Seunghyun acknowledged him. They were too focused on the sloppy mess of ink and blood seeping from Jiyong’s hand.

“Dude,” Youngbae hissed, grabbing his wrist carefully. “This is gonna get infected!”

“No it’s not,” Jiyong argued, clutching his hand to his chest.

“Pour some whiskey on it!” Luke slurred proudly, then immediately tilted the nearly empty Jameson bottle over Jiyong’s hand like he was salting a steak.

“Aishh, shibal!” Jiyong hissed, jerking back in pain.

“That’s it. We’re going back to the hotel,” Seunghyun said, not even giving Jiyong the option. He grabbed him by the arm, and Jiyong let himself be hauled up, still waving at Luke.

“Thanks, man! You’re a legend!” he yelled, flinging a crumpled bill over his shoulder.

-

Back at the hotel, the bathroom lights buzzed softly while steam fogged the mirror. Jiyong sat in the empty bathtub, shirtless, soaked with alcohol and happiness, while Youngbae knelt beside him like a tired nurse, scrubbing at his hand with way too much precision for someone who had been nearly unconscious an hour ago.

Seunghyun paced nearby, arms crossed and fuming. “Why the hell would you let some drunk guy in a bar tattoo you?”

Jiyong shrugged, eyes heavy and unfocused. “He offered.”

Seunghyun stared. “You do realize her name is on you. Forever. On your hand, Jiyong.”

Jiyong giggled. “Good.”

Youngbae sighed. “You two haven’t even gone public yet, man. If fans see this—”

“Let them see it.” Jiyong interjected. 

“At least he spelled her name right…” Youngbae muttered, pressing a cloth gently over the skin. “Still, this is gonna need a serious touch-up when it heals.”

Jiyong lifted his hand, his vision swimming slightly, and stared at it. The ink was messy, and the rose wasn’t even symmetrical. But your name stood out clear and proud. It didn’t need to be perfect. It was real.

“She means everything to me,” he murmured. “This… this one means the most. It stays here. For eternity.”

And then, with a dopey smile and one last look at your face on his screen, he let his eyes close and drifted off to sleep, your name resting on his heart—inked in his skin, etched in his soul.

-

Getting Jiyong onto the plane that morning was nothing short of a mission. He was groggy, half-delirious from the hangover, and very much dead weight. Youngbae had ended up tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of rice while Seunghyun coaxed a still-chatty Daesung away from a local woman he’d befriended at the airport bar.

By some miracle, they made it to their first-class seats in one piece. Jiyong immediately slumped back into his seat with a deep groan, pulling the blanket over his head like a sulking child.

Seunghyun rolled his eyes and settled in beside him, just as Jiyong’s phone started buzzing in his lap.

“Y/n’s calling you,” Seunghyun said, glancing down at the screen before nudging him.

Jiyong shot upright like he’d been electrocuted, fumbling clumsily for the phone—only to drop it straight to the floor. “Shit—fuck—wait—”

With a long-suffering sigh, Seunghyun bent down and retrieved it, sliding his thumb across the screen. “Hey, Y/n! Your boyfriend is nursing a world-class hangover,” he said, flipping the camera to reveal Jiyong, who was grinning like a fool beneath a blanket, his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy.

Jiyong struggled to bring up his left hand to wave at you, but Seunghyun caught him quickly, pressing it down discreetly to hide the tattoo.

“Baby! I miss you!” Jiyong cooed, voice still hoarse but full of warmth.

“I miss you too, Oppa,” you said through the screen, your smile melting his exhaustion in an instant. “Please try to sleep on the plane, okay?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Seunghyun promised, flipping the camera back to himself.

You giggled when Jiyong scooted closer, resting his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder just to get back into the frame. His big, sleepy eyes blinked up at you, and you could see just how much he needed rest—but more than anything, you saw how much he needed you.

“Saranghae, Oppa!” you called, and then hung up before he could say anything else.

-

Two flights and what felt like a lifetime later, they landed in Seoul. Everyone was groggy, sore, and over it—except Jiyong. The moment his feet hit the ground, something inside him lit up.

“Hyung, where is he—?” Daesung began, looking around.

“He ran,” Seunghyun muttered, barely looking up from his phone.

Jiyong didn’t care about his bags, his entourage, or even the airport staff trying to usher him through a private exit. All he cared about was getting to you. His heart thudded in his chest like a war drum, and his legs didn’t stop moving until he was in the car, shouting your address at the startled driver.

The entire ride to your house, his leg bounced uncontrollably. He chewed on his nails. Stared out the window. Clutched his healing hand to his chest. He just needed to see you. Breathe you in. Make sure you were real again.

As soon as the car pulled into your driveway, he was out before it even stopped fully, bolting for your front door and leaving poor Jaeho to deal with your personal security.

“Jagiya! It’s me!” he called, pounding his fist against the door.

Inside, you dropped the ladle you’d been stirring soup with, the clang echoing through the house as you tore off your apron and sprinted for the door.

The moment it opened, the world disappeared.

“Ji!” you screamed, launching into his arms.

He caught you easily, wrapping you up with every ounce of longing he’d carried for the last three weeks. His face immediately buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin, pressing desperate kisses into the space where your pulse lived.

“God, baby…” he whispered, voice cracking. “I missed you so fucking much…”

His arms trembled slightly as he held you tighter. It wasn’t just relief—it was a kind of quiet desperation, the ache of missing someone so deeply that you swore your body forgot how to function without them.

You let him carry you to the couch like you weighed nothing, his body pressed flush against yours as he laid you down beneath him. His lips found your cheek, your jaw, your lips, and every sound you let out fueled him like oxygen.

As your hands moved over his body, you noticed something strange—his left hand was wrapped with gauze and medical tape.

“Ji… what happened?” you asked gently.

He paused, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh… that’s actually a surprise.”

“A surprise? You broke your hand?”

“No,” he laughed, kissing your nose. “Worse.”

He sat up a little, cradling your body with one arm as he used the other to gently unravel the bandages. The tape came off slowly, and then the gauze, revealing his tender, still-red skin.

And there it was.

Your name. Inked in bold, crooked lines beneath a simple rose.

“I was drunk,” he confessed sheepishly. “At a bar. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Some guy had a tattoo gun and… I said fuck it. I wanted your name on me. So you’d always be with me. Even when you’re not.”

You blinked down at the fresh ink, your chest tightening. The lines were imperfect, the skin around them swollen—but it was beautiful. He had carved your name into his skin. Because he missed you that much.

“Jiyong…” you whispered, fingers lightly brushing over it. “You know the whole world’s gonna know now, right?”

A slow, proud smile stretched across his face. “Yeah… and that brings me to my next souvenir.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, digging past his passport and crumpled receipts until he pulled out a small black box.

Your heart stopped.

He flipped it open.

Inside sat a diamond ring, elegant and radiant, the center stone catching the soft light like a promise.

“Will you marry me?”

For a second, the air froze. All you could hear was your heartbeat, and the sound of Jiyong’s breathing. He looked terrified. Hopeful. So stupidly in love.

Tears blurred your vision, but your smile never faltered.

“Yes!” you cried, tackling him back onto the couch, your arms wrapped tight around his neck. You kissed every part of his face you could reach—his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, his nose.

“I love you so much,” you said between kisses.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied, arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go again.

You pulled back just enough to look at his hand again, brushing your thumb over the healing ink. “I still can’t believe you got my name tattooed…”

“Signed and sealed with blood, baby,” he grinned. “Forever.”

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[hamliet]

Derry Girls: A Masterclass in Detailed, Thematic Writing

Several years after the end, I finally watched Derry Girls, and it's become one of my favorite shows. Not only for the way it captures the absolutely unhinged aspects of Irish families (askmehowiknow) but for the sheer writing skill.

The vast majority of the episodes are laugh-out-loud hilarious, while also offering insightful commentary on the Troubles and on humanity's foibles as a whole. The characters are allowed to be human and act in unlikable, unsanitized ways, and to still be human and come back from that. (Almost like a metaphor for the Troubles or something.)

The story is also incredibly detailed; for example, when the girls are accused of killing a nun and Erin points out the nun was like, 98 years old and askes "might that shed some light on the situation?" there's an hourglass behind Sister Michael--emphasizing the idea that her time was up. Even more than that... the window is behind the hourglass, literally shining a light on it.

But that's a micro level. On a macro level, I also appreciated the way the story discusses the political backdrop that is part of its premise. Even as Erin, Michelle, James, Clare, and Orla grow up in a place that's been in a state of low-level warfare for decades, they live full lives. In fact, that's kinda the point.

Case in point: episode 4 of the first season, wherein Erin gets an exchange student from Chernobyl. The way the Northern Irish in general treat the Ukrainians is hilariously awful and patronizing, believing that they are giving them a respite from the troubles "over there" while Northern Ireland isn't in a much better state. But, as Sister Michael assures the Ukrainian students, the Irish troubles don't matter because "we're the goodies."

This line gets to the heart of what the episode is saying about political divisions and the way people view an "other." Everyone sees themselves as the "goodies." Because of that, they don't self-examine and wind up hurting the people they see themselves as wanting to help/save with their ignorance. It's a paradoxical egotistical (and frankly teenage) worldview that is also unwilling to look critically at oneself. The focus on their own perceptions over focusing on the actual humanity of the other results in ruining gifts that could come with cross-culture interaction, as seen in how Erin's misunderstandings and petty jealousy of Katya leads to her literally ruining a surprise gift Katya had prepared.

And the end of the episode also comments thematically on the story. One of the Ukrainian boys turns out not to be Ukrainian after all--he's actually Irish and from just down the road. He just didn't know how to say that. The ironic message is clear: despite differences in culture and views, they are actually all human beings, and assumptions make it hard for people to speak. If they could actually talk openly and without presumptions about who is "good" and who is "bad," they could prevent and solve a lot of problems.

This kind of background, symbolic commentary on the Troubles continues in just about every episode of the series. For example, even after the ceasefire, season 3 has an episode where it's discussed how negotiations are stalling, and the entirely of the rest of the episode takes place on a train that stalls between two separate places.

The Troubles are always something affecting their lives, but the only time the Troubles ever become the main story is in the finale episode. Which is also an episode that makes everyone cry. Michelle's brother is finally mentioned for the first time the entire series, yet it doesn't feel like a retcon so much as a recontextualization, and again mirrors how a lot of society (and Michelle's own family) have treated those who murdered others during the conflict.

Erin and James' relationship also works as a metaphor for the Troubles--an Irish Catholic girl and an English boy. Earlier in season 3, after they finally kiss, they're told they can't be together, that it's wrong, and that it'll create problems for everyone around them. Michelle doesn't want things to change. And Erin agrees that it's not good to pursue something.

But, in the final scenes, as Erin prepares to vote in the Good Friday Agreement and talks to James, she directly states she thinks things can't stay the same forever--thereby countering what she said to reject James earlier:

There's a part of me that wishes everything could just stay the same. That we could all just stay like this forever. There's a part of me that doesn't really want to grow up. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I'm not sure I'm ready for the world. But things can't stay the same, and they shouldn't. No matter how scary it is, we have to move on, and we have to grow up, because things... well, they might just change for the better. So we have to be brave. And if our dreams get broken along the way... we have to make new ones from the pieces.

Symbolically, also, given that we know the outcome of the Good Friday Agreement, I think it's pretty clear Erin and James end up together even if we're not directly shown it.

That the last shot of the episode (besides the funny epilogue) is Grandda Joe, one of the eldest characters, helping his youngest toddler granddaughter Anna leap over a threshold as they leave the voting station, is also incredibly clear in its symbolism.

Erin: People died. Innocent people died, Grandda. They were someone's mother, father, daughter, son. Nothing can ever make that okay. And the people who took those lives, they're just gonna walk free? What if we do it, and it's all for nothing? What if we vote yes and it doesn't even work? Grandda Joe: And what if it does? What if no one else has to die? What if this all becomes a--a ghost story you'll tell your wee-un's some day? A ghost story they'll hardly believe?

I dunno, I think this is a sentiment we need more of in the world. A peaceful future means taking risks and accepting that punitive justice will not be perfectly doled out; however, if you allow more people to be hurt, is that not also injustice? It's a paradox that the story leaves us without a dogmatic answer to (for example, we never find out if Michelle's brother gets released), but it's also hopeful--because we know that the Good Friday Agreement largely worked.

(For further analysis of the final scene, I recommend PillarofGarbage's analysis on YouTube!)

[wosospacegirl]

New kid thing - Arsenal teen!r

Summary: Y/n gets her period during her first day of training at Arsenal, and the girls make sure she is comfortable.

Warnings: Y/n has a small platonic crush on Leah, but nothing weird since she is just 17.

Word count: 2k

Masterlist here

..

Training with a new team for the first time was embarrassing enough, especially if you were a 17-year-old girl making your debut with a senior team where half the players had played in the Olympics, the World Cup, or both.

Y/n felt out of her depth—nervous and, frankly, like a child trying to fill shoes that were too big for her. She knew she had to be at least a little talented to have signed a two-year contract with the Gunners, but her nerves wouldn't let her relax. 

The team immediately noticed her nervousness and was quite good at making Y/n feel welcome. After a few pleasantries from McCabe and Kyra, Y/n even smiled a little and told the girls about her history with football, and how she got into the sport. She had a nice chat with the two Arsenal girls and felt a real connection with them, probably because they were also foreigners in the country.

“It's going to be a little weird at first,” McCabe said. “A lot of new faces, a new culture, a new way of training and playing, but don’t worry, you'll fit right in.” The Irish sat down besides Y/n and patted her on the back.

“Yeah, and if you need someone to talk to, or want to wind out and maybe go for a walk to get to know London you can call me,” Kyre smiled. “Besides, all these old women have no idea about the cool places in London, I know a few places and would be happy to take you.

“Wow, are you calling us old and lame?” McCabe argued

The two girls began to argue as Y/n laughed and giggled.

The rest of the day went smoothly, much to Y/n's surprise. She met many of the staff and was pleased to learn that Arsenal had a team of psychologists, gynecologists and even psychiatrists. Professional players know how hard it is to find a medical specialty that also understands the toll that sport can take on the body, and how some treatments work for non-footballers but don't for footballers, especially because of inadvertent doping caused by convenient medicine and all that.

The team was doing some cool-down stretches while listening to country music - it was Leah's day to choose the music played during training - and Y/n was humming along to some of the songs she knew. Suddenly the 17-year-old felt a familiar pain in her stomach. 

Fuck no, not now, Y/ n thought to herself. She couldn't be having her period right now. It was her first day on a professional team, she was wearing white shorts and everyone was there, chatting away in a semicircle, even captain Leah Williamson, who Y/n had been fangirling since she was 13-years-old.

Y/n was well aware that periods were normal, and that they happened to every single woman on the team, but she was still embarrassed about it. Would they think she was immature? Not having the fucking capacity to pack at least one pad or tampon in her training bag?

Ok, maybe she was being too hard on herself.

Y/n just needed the older girls to finish their cooldown first, so she could be the last to leave the gym.

Five minutes passed. Then 10, and then 15… All the girls were still stretching their legs and thighs. Y/n looked around, trying to come up with another escape plan as the Arsenal women seemed to be enjoying their stretching time a little too much.

“You ok, Y/n?” Leah asked, catching Y/n off guard. It wasn’t that the captain was unwelcoming or anything, but Leah hadn’t really talked to her besides the classic greetings. Y/n remembered watching an interview where Leah said she was a bit more reserved with new people, and that she needed time to warm up, so she wasn’t very bummed about that.

“Oh, yeah, very much ok… yeah!” Y/n lied, and it was a very bad lie because none of the girls believed it, they just looked at her instead.

“It’s ok to be nervous, Y/n,” Lessie said, patting Y/n’s arm. “Everyone here was new at first, except Leah who’s been here since she was a kid,” Lessie joked cheekily, looking at the captain. “I know you’ll feel more at home in no time.”

Lessie was a real sweetie, trying to make Y/n feel welcome, little did she know that the whole  new kid thing had moved way down the list of her problems today.

“Thank you, Lessie. It will get easier in the next few days.” Y/n smiled. Thank God the girls haven’t known her yet, because they would have been able to tell right away how much of a fake smile Y/n was putting on.

The 17-year-old shifted her position, stretching her arm and trying not to move too much, afraid that the blood would stainfic her kit. Well, who she was kidding, judging  by her flow it was safe to say that her bottom and the middle of her tights were a war zone right now.

She just needed to wait a few more minutes and then the players would all be gone and the girl would be able to take a shower in the changing room, then take a cap home, put a pad on, and clean her kit as if nothing happened.

Just a few more minutes and no one would know.

One by one the girls got up and went to the changing room to get ready to go home. Y/n prayed that they would take their showers at home and not in the changing room, that way they would go home faster and Y/n would be able to get the situation under control.

McCabe and Foord were the last ones to get up from the floor. “Are you coming, Y/n?” The Matilda asked, smiling.

“Yeah, right behind you,” Y/n said with fake enthusiasm.

When the two older women entered the changing room Y/n waited for a few minutes. Y/n stood up very carefully, scared to look at the floor and find a pool of her period blood, luckily the floor was spotless.

“Ok, that was close, I just need to—”

“Oh kid, I think you got your period!”

No, no, no, no.

Y/n froze.

The voice Y/n heard came from behind her back, it belonged to Leah. The young girl was mortified, Leah could very well see the stain of blood in her clothes. 

Fuck, getting your period unexpectedly was very embarrassing, but to have Leah Williamson, team captain, and lioness captain, the woman who you had a very innocent crush on (who wouldn't? come on), tell you you had  period was even worse, Y/n thought to herself, still trying to find the courage to face the captain.

Y/n felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got some tampons if you need them, They’re in my locker, c’mon, I’ll give you some, ok?” Leah said, her voice soft now as if she knew the girl was embarrassed.

Y/n turned around, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t know I was getting my period today,” Y/n said, avoiding making eye contact with Leah. 

“It’s alright, stuff like that happens all the time, especially here,” Leah said, putting her arm around the young girl’s shoulder and leading her to the changing room. “We are a team of what? 30 women, we just learn to work around periods, and cramps and all that, that’s why we have a gynaecologist.”

Y/n remained silent, looking at the floor and wishing a double-decker bus would kill her right now.

They got into the locker room, half the girls were still in there.

Yeah, I’m definitely throwing myself in front of the first car that drives by, there is no way that this is my first day and I’m already making a fool of myself. Y/n thought as she sat in front of Leah's locker after grabbing her jacket and tying it around her waist. The others didn’t need to see the mess in her training shorts too.

The captain was very calm, whistling Sweet Carolina as she opened a toiletry bag. It looked like she was very used to these types of situations. Y/n wondered if Leah had gone through this t with any of the other girls on the team before.

“What size do you usually use?” Leah asked bluntly, clearly not trying to be subtle about it. Yeah, maybe she was a bit too comfortable with this topic. “I only have like, super plus,” Leah said, showing you a lilac packed with tampons in it.

“Hm, I normally just have regulars or smalls,” Y/n said hesitantly. “But these are ok, thank you.” They were not ok, Y/n looked at the tampons and knew they wouldn't fit comfortably.

Y/n was never a tampon girl, she always thought pads were more comfortable, she only used tampons on match days or during hard training sessions.

Y/n reached out d to take the pack of tampons from Leah’s hand, but before she could do that Leah shouted to the other side of the changing room. “Hey, Kyra, Less, have either of you got smaller tampons? Y/n needs some.”

“No! It’s alright, please, I don’t want to be a both–”

“I’ve got some,” Less said, smiling af if she was very happy to help. “Here Y/n, these are regulars, but I also have a small one too if you need it.” The blonde handed Y/n a blue box, which the young girl took.

“Thank you, you both,” Y/n said sincerely.

“Is that why you were a bit sad during the cool-down?” Less asked

“Hm, yeah, I just was - well, I am a bit embarrassed and all that, I know periods are normal and blah blah blah, but I’m just a little uncomfortable about it.” You confess, looking at Leah and Less.

“Periods are hard to talk about because people think we should be ashamed,,” Beth said Y/n hadn’t even noticed the lioness was in the changing room. “You're gonna get used to it, you are just a teen, when you grow old you’ll just realize it’s a part of you.”

Y/n smiled, feeling more at ease. Maybe she wouldn't throw herself into traffic after all” :)

“This conversation reminds me of  when I got my first period, I was so embarrassed,” Leah said, holding the bridge of her nose. “I was 14 training on the pitch with the Arsenal youth team when the head coach blew the whistle and asked very loudly if I had gotten hurt because there was blood running down my leg.”

“I just put the ball down and ran to the locker room,” Leah said laughing. “Then Maureen, the assistant coach, came down to talk to me and handed me these big pads and asked me if It was my first period.”

“Oh my first period was during the Matildas Under 15 tournament,” Kyra said. “I had just turned 14, but my mum made me carry a bag of tampons and stuff like that everywhere, so the first time it happened I just went to the toilet and told my friends about it. 

Then every girl shared some funny, and not so funny period story, which made Y/n feel calmer. 

Y/n would get along with the Gunners; she knew it.

[paepaerest]

doodle dump and human designs for a particular AU work in progress

These were made in our lord 2024 but only a few months ago, who knows if most of these designs have been revamped lol and here are some thoughts!

Dictatious - I wanted to edge-ify his design in the most simplest way and also make him look kinda endearing. I kept some of his troll form's features (ie: like his weirdly-shaped jawline, "stubble", hair,) and tried to replicate it in his human form in a way that would work, yet make him not look too trollish or too indistinguishable. Excessive piercings as a bonus and a frankenstein-hairdo, he's definitely a nosferatu freak and listens to type o negative/the cure.

Gunmar & Bular - Gunmar has two colored versions where he's in a yellow phase so he wears a yellow shirt and dyes his hair yellow, change his eye-contacts... Vice versa with blue, this change is very prominent and important to the plot but also, not going to lie Gunmar, it's a little gay. I couldn't imagine him with a lighter-skin tone or it would've looked a bit off (as well with the rest of his colours), so I managed to play around with his iconic troll colors while sticking true with how I wanted him to look like. Bular, oh my goodness I was reading The Secret History of Trollkind and there was a panel where Argh had done him some damage to his right upper lip, kinda badass. Had to add it onto his design, as it is very important to the storyline. If you've noticed, I tried to shape their hairstyles to look similar to their troll horns.

Ursuna - I'm a little bias towards her (you'll see a pattern with the others, lol) and she's not going down without feeling pretty. I wanted her beauty to balance with her charismatic 'leadership' and make her someone you'd least expect to be a villian, or already suspect she is one. Yes, she'll do drag. Yes, she is mother. No, I do not support her actions.

Angor Rot - His hair-do following the same inspiration from his troll form's horns, I imagine he'd style his own hairstyle and give himself braids. He's a true entrepreneur, and still is very magical! He carves voodoo stones etc etc, call him a false prophet or call out on his facade... nothing is going to happen, lol (Still, pack up & move out to a new country for good measure!) Someone put him in a retirement home, he is TIRED.

Gremlin - I spy with my little eye, the random french guy behind Gunmar & Bular. He is specifically the gremlin who draws a moustache onto his face while he trolls around with an alphabet kid's toy. (Yeah he has experienced death once)

NotEnrique/Rique - I don't know, I wanted to make him a normal guy. Who looks like a kid, but is actually almost in his 30's with a heavy boston-scottish accent ? he's a punk.

Draal - He has a new design now, but I thought it'd be nice to bring up his older design. Adidas pants, that says it all. Over-competitive and an over-achiever. He doesn't care about trends, just wears whatever is comfortable and it happens to be a brand clothing. I wanted to give him a fur-coat to resemble his troll form's spiky back, and keep his cool prosthetic arm. He's like the Costco guys with his dad but angrier

Kanjigar - A friend said he looked like he'd live in the suburbs. I see it. An arguably good father (that part seems to be controversial), I wanted to give him a Walter White vibe, while he is supposed to represent the Police.

Argh/Arthur - Big guy, build is a little wider and heavier, still has a muscular build, overall he's changed since. He used to have a slimmer, more muscular build when he was still working under Gunmar, call that an improvement. I got inspired by other people's human designs of Argh and HAD to design how I would see Argh. (I had an Argh/Blinky ao3 binge-reading phase, kiwibird being one of them aaah)

Vendel - A majestic wise old man, managed to keep his hair that long for over a decade. Gave him a skirt, he's kinda giving irish I think. In my defense, he had red-hair when he was younger. (Shown in The Secret History of Trollkind or The Felled !) Treatable hunchback and skin cancer, he and the hospital bill are opps. Does a lot of good for his community.

Speaking of fanfics, i plan to reread the one that heavily influenced me!!! and to know where I'm getting at please read below: the real thing

[thesculptedflower]

Mo bhaile

15 year old reader has snuck outside to meet with her friends. It’s 1919, the first months of the war for the independence of Ireland have already torn and pushed the nation towards it’s own reign. Sneaking down alleys and dark streets, you end up in a bad situation with a dirty soldier, only caring for his own gain. Lucky for you, a saviour is not far away. 

War gets worse, and your parents sent you to live with a distant relative, to Mississippi Delta, where you find home, in more ways than you thought was possible.

I suggest you listen ’S Fágaim Mo Bhaile by Enya, when the reader sings it in the story.

Mo bhaile - my home

Bastún salach - dirty bastard

Mo cuishle - my pulse/my darling

Mo shíorghra - my soulmate

I've not proofread this, so sorry for any typos or misspellings. It's quite out of character from the very much evil Remmick, but I just HAD TO get this out of my head. Can't help but love that Irish vampire. No real warnings, some threats of abuse in the beginning.

Mo bhaile

Dublin, 1919

’’Get yer dirty hands off me, you mongrel!’’ 

’’Eh, a feisty one ar’ ye. ’’ The soldier growled while holding you against the alley wall. ’’I’ll teach ye a lesson, little lass, how ye never should be wanderin’ out this late, durin’ a war time. Men get hungry.’’  

’’Real honorable for ye to lay yer hands on yer own kin, ye bastún salach.’’ You spat on him. 

Your saliva hitting his face confused him, but just for a second, before returning the offence and slapping your face with an open palm. You could taste blood, your tongue instinctively going to mend the cut on your lip. You didn’t want to give in, or show how scared you were, so you trashed and trashed against the wall, rubbing your shoulders raw against the cold brick. Your dress was ruined, little cuts bleeding midst the broken fabric. 

’’Now, ye be a good girl, and keep yer mouth shut.’’ He whispered in your ear, his tone full of malice. You could feel his hot breath against your neck, his leg forcing your thighs open, the sound of him opening his belt firing every last alarm in your body. You were preparing yourself for one last attempt to escape. Or for the worst. And then he was gone.

Not far though. He was on the ground to your left, with another man on top. You couldn’t see your saviour, his face buried so close to the soldiers neck you could swear he was biting him. 

And then you realised he was. The soldiers body had stilled under the attacker, and the air was dense with a metallic scent of warm blood. Horrified, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. This attacker had seemed so scrawny and thin when you first looked at him, but now the muscles in his back seemed to grow in front your eyes. Shirt that had hung so loosely on him, was now filling with a newly grown body. 

You took a small step back, accidentally kicking a bottle at your feet. You stilled. He did too. You were holding you breath, hoping he’d be merciful to you. You knew what he was, thanks to your grandmother and her stories. You parents never approved, but you were glad to know. Maybe he was already full from feeding from a grown man. 

The vampire stood up, still facing away from you. He stretched the muscles in his shoulders and back, like he’d slept in a poor position. 

’’I don’t hurt young ones.’’ 

He spoke softly with an Irish accent, grounding you with a dangerous sense of false security. Thinking there was no harm being polite in the face of such evil, you answered to him.

’’That’s mighty kind of you, sir.’’  You said quietly.

’’You better run home little lassie, all kinds of monster are out tonight.’’ 

He looked back at you over his shoulder, and your eyes were met with glowing red ones, shining in the dark. Still unable to leave, and dangerously fascinated by this creature in front of you, you took a step towards to him. ’’I know of your kind.’’

He was in front of you in an instant, so close you could see all the details of his being. How the eyes were studying you, so closely, how the blood had stained his chin, and how his teeth, his fangs peeked out when he spoke. You were mesmerised, even if you knew you should’t be. Maybe your parents were right, the stories had made you a daredevil. 

’’You ought to be scared of me then.’’ He spoke, his eyes settling for a moment on your neck. A shiver ran through your body. ’’And you are, I can smell that, but not enough.’’ He continued, taking another step closer to you, forcing you back against the wall. Right back from where he had just saved you from. ’’There is also something a lass your age should not be feeling, in a moment like this.’’ 

A blush creeped up on your cheeks, and a warmth that had been secretly building up, answered to his calling, settling low in your abdomen. You turned to look away, bashful of your body’s reaction this ancient threat. Your head turned to the side, your neck was like an open invitation to him. The vampire leaned in, the cold tip of his nose brushing against your pulse point. You could hear him almost purr at your scent.

’’I’m not that young.’’ You protested, childishly, intoxicated by his presence.

’’Too young.’’ 

His teeth scraped your skin softly, making you gasp involuntarily. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, but it was too late. The vampire laughed deviously, taking a step back to look at you again. 

’’I bet you’d taste delicious, but alas, too young.’’

He watched you, like he was memorising every small detail of you. From the way your hair sat on you shoulders, how your eyes seemed so fearless in front of him, to how your heart seemed to have changed it’s rhythm for him. ’’Run along now lassie, I’ll find you again.’’ He grinned before turning to walk away. Instinctively you grabbed his arm to stop him. You let go immediately, shocked by your own boldness. He only seemed to like it.

’’I don’t even know your name.’’ You almost whispered, your gaze locked to his.

’’Remmick.’’

Mississippi Delta, 1932

You woke up from the same dream yet again. He’d haunted your dreams for years, since your parents sent you away from Ireland, to the safety of Mississippi Delta, as far away from the war as was possible. A distant relative, you weren’t even sure how distant, had taken you in and helped you get accustomed to the southern living. The first months were agonising, missing you family, being thrown into a totally foreign culture without a single friend. You knew there were Irish folk in Chicago, but everyone told you that it was not safe to search them out. So you remained alone. Except in your dreams. For he was always there.

Remmick was the master of your dreams, taking you to places you’d never seen before. Sometimes it was just the time you first met him, other times it felt almost too real, like he was actually inside your consciousness. It felt homely, strangely, he was one of the only things you still had from home. When you left, you had packed very lightly, in the fear of others stealing your small possessions. In the years you had now spent in Delta, only an amulet and a grimoire your grandmother had made you, were still intact. Others had long ago broken, stolen away by time. Remmick remained constant.

Loud banging roused you fully from your haze. Someone was calling your name on your porch.

’’Get your bottoms up girl, we gon’ be late!’’ You could recognise Annie’s voice anywhere. You smiled, excited for the day ahead. You had agreed to help Annie cook some fish and serve some drinks at the new Juke Joint the Smokestack twins had built for the Delta folk. You had gotten to know them through Annie, and Annie through your mutual interest in natural remedies and a little spell work here and there. You had become friends very quickly, despite your guardianship disapproving of your connections. You felt suffocated under their rule, so when you had worked your ass off at a local diner, and saved up enough money, you bought a small cottage near Annies house. End of the road, small but comfortable, with a porch big enough to fit a two-seater porch swing. What more could you ask for. It was perfect. 

’’Hey.’’ You greeted her happily, opening the door and beckoning her in. ’’Ice tea?’’ You offered, though you didn’t wait for an answer. You poured a tall glass of your homemade lemon ice tea and handed it to Annie. You knew she loved it. 

The day was to be a hot one, so she took it gratefully. 

’’You ought to be dressed already, Smoke is coming to get us any minute now.’’ She pointed to the clock, judging your bad time management skills. You laughed softly, pouring a glass for yourself also. ’’We’ll be fine, we’ve got the whole day.’’ You shouted as you made your way back to your bedroom to change your clothes. ’’I had that dream again.’’ You continued.

’’Of meeting the vampire?’’ Annie specified.

You hummed an agreeing response, picking out a pale blue blouse and a white skirt with your trusty boots. You swept your hair into a bun to keep it out of your face and examined yourself from the mirror. Good enough, you’d have time to change into a proper party attire after everything was ready at the Joint.

’’It felt different this time. Like a promise.’’ You said, gathering up the last ingredients you needed for the preparations. You kept your eyes away from Annies, because you knew she was studying your reactions. Judging your hope and longing for him. Which you had promised her, didn’t mean anything. 

’’You know if that bloodsucker finds it’s way to here, it ain’t leaving alive.’’ Annie cursed, making a protective sign on her body with her hand. You knew you were supposed to act and feel the same way about this situation, but something in you couldn’t. You had wanted him to come find you. It had left such a mark on you, maybe even in your soul, that no other man could ever compare. Many had tried. But all those who had tried to win you over, hadn’t been able to charm you like Remmick had. And you were only fifteen. Now that you were in your late twenties, you had almost became desperate to find love and companionship. You had taken men to your bed, thinking that would finally release you from his grip and put an end to these dreams, but all those men had vanished. Every single one of them. And soon after everyone started avoiding you, thinking that you were cursed. Your friends didn’t leave your side, which you were immensely glad of. You learned to live alone, spending your days helping Annie, gathering herbs, helping the others with spells and protections. And when the sun went down, and the birds and insects laid down to rest, you escaped in to your dreams. Dreaming of home. Of him.

A car horn broke your conversation, turning your attention back to the night ahead. ’’Come on, we have a party to attend to.’’ 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The evening air was buzzing with excitement. Folks were arriving and getting in the mood for a night of dancing and laughing. Delta Slim was playing lively tunes on the piano, getting the crowds to dance and move their bodies to the smooth rhythms. Everyone was having a good time. You included. You happily served beer and wine and food to your neighbours and friends. Annie was with you behind the bar, Smoke enjoying a drink on the bar next to her. You were overjoyed for them, finding their way back to each other. You knew how much Annie had missed Elijah. A sour though surprised you, thinking how she could not be happy for you, if the man you longed for retuned. You took a sip of your own drink, banishing the thought from your mind. This was not a night for ill feelings or bitterness.

Delta Slim finished his song, and introduced Sammie to the crowd. He was the twins’ cousin, and a hell of a good bluesman. When he sung, it felt like the whole atmosphere changed around him. It was magical to hear. Tonight was no different from the others. He sang like his life depended on it. And when we was done, everyone felt like they were floating. 

’’Think you’d be up for a slow song? The folk could use a little slow dancing.’’ Annie pushed you towards the stage, waving for Sammie to play with you. It caught you by a surprise, and before you managed to say anything in protest, you were already up on the stage. Everyone was eagerly waiting, watching you get to your position. Their smiling faces melted all the doubts from your mind. You had sung before, at bonfire gatherings and such, this would be no different.

’’Alright then, let’s slow down the mood for a minute, shall we.’’ You spoke to the crowd, urging everyone to pick a dance partner and ease to a soft sway. You whispered the song to Sammie, you had sung the same one with him many times. 

’’This song is from my home.’’ 

’’Maidin is tus an lae Is fagaim mo bhaile Ta mo chroise go bron Is fad ar shiul m’oige’’

All your friends and others fell silent as your voice filled the room. Soft and ethereal, sad and comforting. None of them knew the meaning of the words, yet they all knew you were longing for your home. For Ireland. ’’Oiche is me liom fein Speartha dubh go domhain, a choich Ag cuimhneamh ar laethanta a bhi Gan gha agus gan ghruaim Eistim leis an ghaoth Uaigneas mor, go deo, a choich.’’

The war had torn you from your family, from your home, from everything you knew and held dear in your heart. Against all odds, you had found another place to call home, with people to embrace you as you were. ’’Deireadh an turas mor Taim bronach, buartha 's briste I mo dhiaidh nach mbeidh nios mo Ach, ta se i ndan duinn, a phaisti.’'

Your native language still came to you naturally. It was comforting to use it after such a long time of silence. Tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, so you closed them, imagining the mountains and glenns around you. In your mind, you felt someone enter your world, placing a warm hand on your waist and turning you towards them. They smelled like home, like moss and tar, an ancient connection, originating deep from your homeland. You couldn’t see them, your vision blurred from the tears. But you could hear them.

’’Keep singing mo cuishle, I’m so close to finding you.’’ He whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. So you sang like never before. 

Is fada anois an la A d'fhag me mo bhaile Nil athas i mo chroi Nil ann ach an marbh.’’

The sun had vanished behind the horizon, the last rays of the day illuminating the yard. The last rays that still kept him from getting to you. 

The crowd applauded and cheered as you lowered yourself from the stage, tears and sad smiles evident on many faces. Annie embraced you, like she always does after that song. Your body enjoyed the warmth of hers, truly feeling a sense of belonging. 

’’I think you’re at the wrong place, mister.’’ Cornbread said to someone at the door.

’’I assure you, I am not.’’ 

Remmick.

Before anyone could say another word, you sprinted from Annies arms towards the door. Your soul was pulling you to him. And there he was. Same as the last time you saw him. His eyes looked normal, and his fangs were hidden, but still him. You let out a small sob before reaching for him from the doorway. 

Your joy was cut short when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you back in, behind the threshold. Horrified from the betrayal, you turned to see Annie holding you back. Your eyes were pleading, full of tears, to let you go, to let you get to him. Remmick had lunged for you the moment he saw Annie reaching for you, but the curse wouldn’t let him enter. His eyes were flaming, and he was struggling to keep them or his fangs hidden. His gaze stayed on you as you begged to be let free.

’’Annie please, don’t keep me from finally finding what I’ve searched nearly my whole life for.’’ Your eyes jumped from Annie to Remmick to Smoke and Stack whom come see what was going on. 

’’I’m meant to be with him, he is my home, mo bhaile.’’ Tears were freely falling down your cheeks and you could feel the aching in your soul, being kept from it’s other half. You swore you could feel Remmick’s pain too, having to just watch from the outside, unable to reach you.

’’I will not hurt her, ye have my word.’’ Remmick pleaded, the moonlight illuminating half of his face. ’’I may be a monster, but I’ve lived long enough to know when something is precious to me, and to others.’’ He continued urgently. ’’I shall not force this life on her, unless she asks me to.’’ 

His eyes were now fully lighted, the red hues a warm contrast to the night around us. You were still staring at Annie, eyes full with sorrow and longing, hoping she’d let you go. 

Hesitantly, she did. You took a shaky breath in, and hugged her tightly. ’’I promise I’ll be fine, I’m just going home.’’ You whispered. You could feel tears falling down on your shoulder, so you squeezed Annie even tighter. 

’’Mo shíorghra.’’  His voice tugged at the bond between you. You released Annie from your arms and turned to face your vampire. You didn’t hesitate as you stepped over the threshold, straight to Remmick’s embrace. His lips found yours instantly, taking claim of what he already knew to being his. Had always been his. And would always continue being his.