#fanction

[pentapoctopus]

Steve, having successfully quit smoking several years ago when he was dating Nancy, agrees to help Eddie quit, too. He assumes Eddie's super into some girl and trying to impress her. He tries not to let his hurt feelings over his unrequited crush show too much, and is just happy Eddie is doing something good for his health.

Eddie is in fact trying to quit smoking because the guy he's actually super into successfully quit smoking several years ago and he's trying to impress him

[al3xisnobody]

might have to start reading x reader fanfics again, feeling lonely

[foxtufts]

「Stress Relief」 : Part One of Two

Masterlist AO3 Link Pairing: Paddy Mayne x fem!Reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Word count: 5.1k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Summary: Paddy has been advised to blow off some steam; you're looking to do the same. After a blind date, you're both left with some intense memories to take back with you from the bar restroom that neither of you can ignore. ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Part 1: Mirror Sex, Knife Play, Voyeurism, Light Breath Play, Edging (Technically), Light Spanking, Paddy does obscene things with his knife, Lovers to Enemies Part 2: Free Use if you squint, Light Spanking, Spit kink, Enemies to Lovers ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: Here's my submission for a Secret Santa event! Merry Christmas to @nekkiotine! It's a self-contained fic, but as I couldn't fit everything in that I wanted to I'm also releasing a Part 2/Bonus chapter tomorrow for you too! (Don't @ me, @iceemochaa, this technically fits within the word count... But in all seriousness, thank you so much for organising this! 🧡) Yes, it's not historically accurate. No, I don't care. If you do, move on.

"As much as I appreciate your 'can-do' spirit, Paddy, sometimes too much will eat you alive, cloud your judgement." Sterling overlooks the same remote patch of desert that Paddy has been surveying for hours now.

The Irishman doesn't need to ask to know what his higher-up is referring to, but he does it anyway. The sun is too hot and the air too stifling for games and riddles. "Would ya just come out with it already? What are ya suggestin'?"

Sterling slowly removes the bottle of rum from Paddy's grip, unsure if he'll let him at first. "If the drinking isn't working to calm your mind-" The bottle comes loose from his fingers with a 'tink' of the glass. "-then get yourself laid, Paddy."

"S'cuse me? That's my rum." He nods to the bottle in Sterling's hand, eager to change the subject.

Stirling takes a slow swig before placing the cork back into the glass neck, ignoring the statement. "I believe you heard me just fine. I can't have you blowing up at your own men. You'll have to let off steam another way."

There might usually be a grin attached to Stirling's words, but he seems genuinely concerned. It wasn't surprising after the way Paddy lost it at the men this week. His belongings were organised after a camel spider had everyone up in arms, and it was only when Paddy exploded at the nearest man that Stirling got an inkling of the underlying cause.

"I can get you set up with someone in Cairo, you might like her." He throws a shrug to Paddy, despite the shorter man now staring back out at the desert beyond the base.

There's a note of silence between them both; only the idle chatter of a few men somewhere behind is audible. Stirling is as patient as he can muster until Paddy shakes his head, obviously not disagreeing entirely. "I am not fuckin' a prostitute."

Stirling laughs, his fingers tapping the frosted glass in thought. "She's not a whore, she's a friend of Eve's and I heard she's… on the market, as it were."

Paddy's jaw tightens a little, not interested in something complicated. "Not lookin' fer love, either."

Stirling finally smirks at that, knowing Paddy is on board. He feels a glimmer of hope for the end of Paddy's tantrums, which have been unmanageable as of late. "Then that's something you'll have in common, just a good time to clear your mind."

Paddy resists the urge to fidget with anything on the table as he waits. He does well not to drum his fingers on the glass of whisky he's already making headway with. Nor does he fiddle with the white flower in the small vase or the tealight holder. Instead, he opts to fold his fingers on the table to keep still, regretting coming here already.

He half-expects some lost little thing to come and stumble into him. So when you confidently approach the table, Paddy mistakes you for something else entirely.

Before you've even opened your mouth, he tries to dismiss you. "Apologies, miss, but I'm not interested in whatever company ya may be offerin' tonight."

You blink once, taken aback by the Irish brogue laced through his tone that borders on insulting, despite the way it's obvious his eyes actively try not to scan you. When the moment passes, you brush off the comment with an amused look, certain you're at the right table and hopeful that so is he. "I'm afraid you may be in my seat then. I have this table reserved for a blind date."

Paddy's brows lightly crease as he allows his gaze to inspect you and the way your dress hugs your body perfectly, trailing up to your matching bold lip. His mouth runs drier when the pieces fall into place for him, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, pleasantly surprised. "Ah, I see now. I seem to have made a wee blunder."

Your eyes narrow playfully as the man stands up to get your chair. "For thinking I'm a whore? I don't know whether to be flattered." You let him seat you, though if he feels phased by your joke, he does well not to show it as he sits back down.

You momentarily watch each other, taking each other in until you throw him a suggestive glance. "I take it you're my mystery date, then?"

The way his chest slowly pulls in air under his military garb catches your attention. "Aye, Paddy Mayne, and who might you be, miss?"

You flash a small smile before giving your name in return. "I've heard quite a bit about you already."

A brow of his quirks, assuming that either Stirling or Eve has been so kind as to gossip about him. "Is that right?"

You fold your arms as you lean forward a little, remembering the information Eve passed on to you regarding Paddy's short fuse. It wasn't a shock to you; it would have come as a bigger shock if someone in his position didn't get hotheaded easily. "It is. Mostly your temper."

To your surprise, Paddy mirrors you, leaning forward to lower his voice so that only you can hear, though it comes off as playful more than anything else. "Is that you trying to get a rise out of me already?"

The fact that he seems self-aware of his temper only makes you grin, confirming the rumours himself. "Is it working, Mayne?"

A smile plays on his lips as he reaches for his glass. "It isn't, and Paddy is just fine."

"Noted…" You watch as he brings his whisky to his lips, wondering how long he's been here waiting for you. "Nervous?"

He smirks while he flashes his brows, seemingly more so to himself. "Not anymore. Fancy a drink?"

You agree and let him order along with some food. After he raises his glass to yours with a clear clink, the alcohol quickly helps ease your own butterflies with a gentle warmth.

"You don't seem that scary, not how I've heard." You laugh along the rim of your drink, and Paddy's eyes settle on your lips against the glass.

His eyes slide back up to yours, indulging in your words. "To my knowledge, you're not the enemy, so there'd be no point in scarin' ya."

"I doubt you could even surprise me, let alone scare me easily." You gently tap the top of his hand and Paddy swears the hair on his arms stands up at the contact.

He wets his lips in thought, and seeing his tongue dart over them does something to your insides. "Careful, that almost sounds like a challenge."

You don't move your hand, brushing your fingers over the skin for a fraction longer than you perhaps should have. "See where the night takes us." You mean it, and you think you spot his Adam's apple bob at the suggestion. Eve had mentioned Paddy seemed to be a little wound up; you hadn't expected it to be so blatant.

The talk eventually turns to a past mission, and Paddy apologises for a more gruesome detail that he lets slip. It was easy to forget that while everyone is in the same storm, you weren't all in the same boat.

The detail piques your interest; something about blades always did. "That's alright, I don't mind grisly."

Paddy isn't any more assured with that, but the way you said it interests him. "You don't 'mind' it..?"

There's a beat of silence between you, and you clear your throat to cover it. "That is, it's part of my job."

He cocks a brow to you with an intrigued look for all of a second. "Yer job? Ah, so the lipstick ain't just fer me. Would I be right in guessing y'er a nurse?"

"Close, a doctor, actually. Or, I will be when I've finished my training." You try to ignore the gentle heat in your face, embarrassed that you may have said too much and failed to cover it. Despite the glint in Paddy's eyes, he doesn't bring it up.

"I see, impressive even if a little unconventional…" It doesn't sound disapproving and you're not entirely sure what he means, though you assume he is referring to the hands-on training out here.

"I suppose we both are in our own ways." You hold his icy blue stare, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips for all of a second. Quick, but not enough to stop the way he smiles in return.

As it turns out, you have more in common than either of you had come to expect; you are a lover of the arts, and Paddy is a poet at heart. After a few rounds of drinks and some food to line your stomach, the previous jitters had morphed into something more confident; you don't really notice the way your foot presses against his under the table, less so that he doesn't pull away from it.

He begins to tell a story while you again lightly stroke his arm as you laugh, letting your fingers linger after tracing over the veins on the back of his hand. Paddy seems to hum in approval at your touch, then you withdraw altogether to stand slowly.

"I'm off to powder my nose, shouldn't be too long." You give a smile, and you're sure to put an extra sway in your step, knowing he'll be watching you walk away.

Paddy's fist knocks against the table when you're out of his line of sight, and he drags his other hand down over his lower face as he weighs up his options. "Fuck it." He looks sly as he leaves the table too, heading after you to the restroom.

You exit the stall and wash your hands. Your face still feels warm at the thought of Paddy; you're far more attracted to him than you predicted. A smile graces your lips as you reach into your purse to look for your lipstick. You don't so much as hear Paddy approach you from another stall until he already has his hands over your mouth.

You immediately flinch with a small cry, dropping your purse onto the counter. There's a struggle at first until you look up into the mirror in front to realise it's Paddy looking back with a smirk. Your eyes lock onto his, and you only hear your muffled breathing trying to settle against his palm. Despite the scare, you can't deny the rush of it has a prickle of heat rush down to your abdomen. Especially when Paddy takes a step to press himself flush against your back.

You can't help the way your eyes narrow with some defiance back at him, and your breath lightly hitches when his whisper teases the shell of your ear. "That spook you enough, dove?"

He loosens his hand to trace his fingers down your skin until he's cupping them around your throat. You swallow against it reflexively, and he lets out an amused sound against you. "Oh, I think ya like bein' scared." He throws you a sly look that makes your thighs press together. "Or at least, not bein' handled so gently, that right?"

"No." The answer comes out faster than you intended, an obvious lie purely out of denial. But Paddy only looks smug in return and grips your throat just a little tighter as his other hand traces up your side.

The pressure forces a small whine from you, and you see his eyes widen, pleased at the reaction. "Sounds t'me like ya do." His wondering hand finds your breast through your dress, snaking his digits underneath the thin fabric to squeeze you there. "This what you wanted?"

You can't stop the tiny groan that falls from your lips, and your hips push back against Paddy's. "I just… want some good memories to take home with me." It wasn't a lie; you don't intend to look for anything other than some fun in these otherwise bleak times.

You can hear his cocky smile in the way he breathes heavily against you, feeling him press back against you. "I'll give ya a choice, 'cause I'm such a gent." The grip on your neck, along with the sarcasm dripping from his brogue, makes slick gather between your thighs. "We both leave now and don't have to talk about this again, or-" He presses a slow kiss to your jaw, firm enough to make a moan bubble up in your throat. "-Ya stay, and let's give ya something ya can't forget easily, yeah?"

You watch his half-lidded eyes through the mirror as he rolls your nipple under your dress, making your breath hitch. It takes no time at all for you to decide, but you at least give the impression that you have to think about it. "I thought you seemed desperate, but you didn't have to make it so obvious."

He scoffs lightly, though he doesn't deny it; he hasn't been able to stop stealing glances at your body all night when he thought you couldn't tell. You'd even stretched once or twice to capture his attention, enjoying teasing him while feigning innocence.

"Bold talk, comin' from someone who can't stop tryin' to get a rise outta me." So he did notice, you feel pleased to find out that was the case. You'd hate for it to have been for nothing.

You grin when you definitely feel something hard pressing into the back of your thigh. "Looks like I did get a rise out of you, Paddy."

His fingers stroke the skin of your throat as he hovers like he's trying to work you out. "Smart-arse, that's my knife." His lips are parted and you feel his warm breath curl around your ear.

You swallow again, the thought of it making your breath hitch. "You… keep it with you?" The small question is moot; you know it's a part of the uniform, but that isn't why you ask. You hope it's enough for him to spot your interest in it, another clue that you don't want to be treated softly.

Paddy's eyes narrow a fraction when he catches the hopeful expression of your reflection. Like you want him to show you. "Now that's an odd question…" He mutters against you as he feels his intrigue move his body for him. As if to test it, his hand releases your breast to travel back down your side, taking his time with it. Paddy's fingers hover on your hip until he moves to retrieve the blade, and when the glint of the metal catches your eye, he smirks at the way you wet your lips.

A soft laughter envelopes you as his fingers stroke the front of your neck. "Oh, I see…" Then you feel the cool press of metal through your dress, and it has your hands flex against the cool stone of the counter. "Ya like it when things get a little grisly, then. Eh, dove?"

His fingers feel tighter when you stifle a soft noise. "Is that such a… problem?"

Paddy shakes his head as his words ghost over you. "Ya just let me know if it feels like one." His words sound like an unwritten contract, and you give your signature with a single nod.

"Unlikely." You manage to huff out as excitement rushes to your core. Your stubborn tone earns a grin from Paddy the same time arousal begins to fill him.

You try to reach back for him, but his hands are firm as they grab your wrists, forcing you to bend over the counter instead as he pins your hands in front. He scoops them both up into one hand, and the sight of your reflection has your cheeks heating up, as does the kiss of metal up your forearms.

You can't stop your gasp at the feeling; a thrill shoots through you with the idea that Paddy, who has already killed countless people, could do the same here if he wanted. Like it was nothing. The danger of it creeping up alongside the knife pulls a shocked whine from you.

"Look at how pretty ya are like this." His eyes eat you up, and you most definitely feel his cock twitch against your ass. "Bet y'er soaked…" You try to look away, the shame of enjoying something you shouldn't creeps up through your chest and past your neck.

"No, none of that." Paddy drapes himself over you while he uses the flat side of the knife to turn your chin to make you watch. "You look at me, doll." He watches you as he skims the metal to your collarbone, ever so gently dragging it, not quite enough to break the skin.

Not until…

You freeze in place as he applies just enough pressure to cause a bead of red to spill down the steel, and your breath shudders out of you while your clit starts to ache. The pang of danger in your chest is addictive. From a quick peek, it's clear already how your eyes are clouded with lust. There's another pulse of his cock against you as you try your hardest not to squirm against him, though he can easily feel the way your thighs tense up with the effort.

Paddy gives a soft hum at the feeling while he brings the blade down your front. He hikes the skirt of your dress up by the point of the blade. You feel yourself tense up as a more serious fear spikes through you, uncertain what he's doing. Your core tightens around nothing all the same, as still, you keep your eyes locked with his reflection. When he delicately drags the tip of the cold steel up the side of your thigh, and under the side of your under garments, your breath hitches at the goosebumps it causes. Carefully, he moves to the seam between the back of your thighs, where he pulls, ripping the silky material open.

You can hear the way Paddy's breath starts to sound more like soft panting, and you stay stock-still at the cold press of steel lying flat against your folds. His eyes are focused, though his lips part as he turns the leather handle to you instead. You're already wet, more than you realised, and the handle glides through you.

You both gasp quietly as he slides the handle down until it nudges against your entrance. "Paddy-"

"This alright?" He doesn't move until he gets a response from you; it's the only time Paddy Mayne has ever been patient with something in his life. You nod with a small 'yes', and you hold your breath as he pushes the handle to dip into you. It drags a small whine from you just at the thought of it, being forced to watch his face as it sinks into you deeper.

"Fuck sweetheart, leakin' all over my knife." Your core aches deliciously as it stretches around the thick handle. He's careful, but thrusts it into you with slow, meaningful strokes that have your body meet the counter with each movement. The hard outline of his cock grinds up against your ass as your name falls from his lips. "Y'er a naughty thing, lettin' me do this t'ya." His voice sounds gruffer than before, while your noises turn pliant.

After one particularly loud moan from you, you snap your mouth shut. You hadn't been too aware of where you were before now, but you begin to worry that it may garner attention from outside. "Paddy, someone might come in-"

"-Don'tcha worry yer pretty head 'bout that." He leans back to let his eyes wander down to where the handle slips in and out of you, and you feel your walls clench at it for more. "Ya gonna come on it, dove?" The need for it is audible in the way he breathes, and you aren't sure if you can answer without being too loud. A light shiver runs through you when the hilt finds the right angle, heat curling in your belly.

You gasp for air and nod to him in the mirror despite wanting to feel him. "Want your cock, Paddy." The confession has your cheeks ablaze, and you hear him grunt in response. He almost gives in to fuck you, but he wants you to leave your mark on the weapon. Something secret to carry around with him and to soften the blow after each time he has to use it.

"Soak my knife first, then I'll give you what you need." His cock jerks with the thought of getting to be inside you; he hadn't realised just how pent up he'd been. "Do it, show me how much ya.. want me inside ya." His fingers move from your wrists to sneak between your thighs, parting your lips to find your clit. You spread your legs as you rock your hips up against the feeling of tight circles with his calloused fingers. The ignition of white hot sparks behind your vision has your core tightening around the knife handle. The thrill of it shoots adrenaline up your spine, and fire surges right through you.

This time, you can't help but moan wantonly at the feeling, mouth parted to let his name spill out. "Paddy~"

"There she is." The handle flexes inside you, and between it and his strong hands pulling you closer to your peak, you can't help but roll your head, trying not to move too much against his thrusts of the knife. Then, his fingers let go of your clit to slap across your cunt with a warning rumbling low in his chest. "Eyes on me." The sting sends arousal pounding through you, feeling closer to your edge.

"Want you to think of me- every time you look in the mirror." Paddy's mind feels foggy with lust, barely recognising the tone of his voice as he speaks to you. There's another short slap, and you lock eyes as you whimper back to him. He swallows thickly, and finally, the feeling of it all is too much. Enough to send you over the edge with little jerks of your hips.

As much as you struggle to, you watch him as he slows the handle to a stop once you've ridden the orgasm out. He grins down at you, and you can only watch in awe as he retracts the handle from you. Your eyes widen as he brings it to drag his tongue along it, cleaning the slick with a softer noise of approval before pocketing it.

"Bein' such a good girl fer me." The praise makes you feel dizzy, and you remain bent over the counter while you hear him undo his fly. The sound of him finally removing his cock from the confines of his uniform fills the room, and your heart thumps heavily against the countertop with anticipation.

The feeling of the tip of Paddy's cock slapping once over your cunt makes you whine, and suddenly, the feeling of him sliding through your folds is enough to make you forget that someone could walk in. "Please-"

Paddy shudders with delight at the way you beg for him, and he lines himself up with your entrance as he coos down to you. "Shh, I've gotcha. Take what ya what ya need." With a slow push, your eyes widen at the way he stuffs his cock inside, stretching you open far more than the handle did. You try to keep your mouth shut tightly, despite the drawn-out groan being forced out.

His brows furrow up in pleasure as he sinks his cock deeper into you, gasping at how tight your cunt squeezes around him. "Grippin' me so tight-" His lips part, and to his own shock, a soft whimper escapes him at how good it feels, unable to place how long ago he last got to fuck someone. It wasn't lost on Paddy that he had a temper, but maybe he really had let his frustration get the better of him as of late.

With his own teeth gritted, he thrusts into you, aiming for the sensitive part of your walls he found before. He watches you struggle to keep quiet when his cock brushes up against it, and without really thinking, Paddy uses two fingers to push into your mouth. You whimper against the sudden intrusion and the way it's smeared your lipstick. Your mouth parts to let him in further as you automatically suckle on his fingers. Paddy groans at the feeling and you feel his cock twitch inside you with each thrust.

"Want to hear those sounds. Want to remember them." You oblige and moan sweetly against the pads of his fingers. He prods his digits against your tongue, and you catch the way his eyes darken when your spit starts to leak down his hand. "Gonna ruin your makeup, pretty thing." You can only hope so, and the only answer Paddy gets is a muffled 'Mhm~' from you around his fingers as he drags them in and out of your lips.

His other hand that grips your hip tightly leaves so that he can bring it to his own mouth. You watch, distantly thinking about it as he coats his thumb in spit, then it lowers again and disappears from view. Your breath suddenly catches in your throat at the feeling of Paddy's thumb brushing over your asshole, and you feel yourself clench with a whine. His eyes burn into yours as he wets your hole, moving the digit to the side for all of a second so he can lightly blow cool air onto it with a smirk. You flinch at the cold and you hear a faint laughter as his thumb returns, circling the puckered hole before pushing into you.

Your cheeks burn as you realise you feel him everywhere, full to the brim and unable to think of anything else other than how wonderfully he fits you. Every thrust of Paddy's hips earns a grunt from him and a smothered moan from you around his fingers. Whether it's from already feeling sensitive from your first climax, you can feel the hot pressure building again as you focus on the slap of his skin against yours.

You try to tell Paddy that you're close again, too sensitive, but his fingers stop you from being able to speak properly, and you can only sob around them.

Paddy's brows crease as a shaky breath leaves him. Between your cunt clenching around him and watching your reflection, he already knows you're close before you try to tell him. "Do it… Wanna- feel ya drip down my cock." His voice is ragged, and it takes everything in him not to finish before you do.

It's only then that you see movement of the door from the corner of your eye, and your stomach lurches at the knowledge you've likely been spotted. You freeze up and tap him on the hand as panic rises in you, wrenching his fingers from your mouth. "P..Paddy, someone's outside. They'll see-"

"-Let 'em. Ya focus on me when I'm fuckin' ya." He emphasises his words by snapping his hips up into you, rougher than before. This time, there isn't anything to stifle your sounds as you moan freely at the thickness of his cock hitting your walls just right. His thrusts knock the breath from you, and the heat that's pulled impossibly taut inside you finally snaps, leaving you a mess underneath him as your cunt and asshole rhythmically clench around him.

"Fuck. Perfect- So fuckin' perfect fer me." His grunts are louder when your slick runs down him, and he removes his thumb from you to watch where the two of you connect. You watch with some horror as Paddy doesn't slow down even when there's a loud knocking at the door. Instead, he leans down to moan into your ear, hair wild as he fucks up into you relentlessly. "Gonna come. Gonna fill ya." He pants out against you, finally, he would feel the stress of everything melt away from his body.

You gasp at his words, unsure what to do until whoever is on the other side of the door chooses for you. It swings open, revealing who appears to be a member of staff, and with a fight or flight response, you wrench yourself away from Paddy. You swipe your purse and, without so much as a word, cover your face as you scurry out of the room, feeling your heartbeat in your throat with mortification.

Paddy is left dumbfounded as you suddenly shove him away before he can finish. He rushes to shove his cock back into his uniform, tucking himself into the waistband to make his prominent erection less obvious. While avoiding eye contact with anyone complaining, he shoves through the door to make a beeline for the bar entrance. He only pauses to angrily slam money onto your table as he marches by it.

When he gets outside, his panting still hasn't returned to normal, and his head is on a swivel as he searches for you. Paddy tries not to cringe at the lingering pre-cum smeared in his underwear, and sneaks off into a quiet alley to press a forearm against the stone wall. He feels worked up and unable to ignore the images of you in his mind. The sounds are so clear in his ears as he takes his cock out of the waistband to stroke himself over with a quiet groan. His teeth grit and he feels flustered at your disappearance, but can't stop himself from gliding his hand over his leaking cock until he at last gets to hit his peak with a strained whisper of your name.

He's left a panting mess against the wall, swallowing as he tries to gather his thoughts and deciding almost immediately that he can't tell anyone about the evening. He just hopes you'll treat it the same, wherever you've fled to.

He's so frustrated with the situation that he simply waits for his mind to clear. Except it doesn't. Paddy can't ignore you, or the fact that after all that, he didn't even get to kiss you.

You're so embarrassed by the events that you hide behind some foliage outside of one of the storefronts. You fan your face a little to try and calm down while you wait for Paddy to leave the bar, but even after waiting for a good fifteen minutes, you don't spot him.

Reluctantly, you end up leaving to return to your lodgings. He was likely as disheartened by the way the evening ended as you are. Your only hope is that word of the evening doesn't get spread around the entire British army like the plague. You certainly won't be telling Eve. Hell, you plan to lie and say Paddy never even showed up in the first place.

With some luck, that would be enough.

[cherryvvave]

HER BELOVED

۶ৎ Talia takes care of her wife.

.ᐟ notes: SMUT. (badly written bc i am still trying to write all that shit) also shitty title bc couldnt find anything that fits this.

masterlist

You stretched your back as your wife's hands parted your legs. Her delicate touch made you close your eyes. She was agonizingly slow, and she was aware what this made you. You wanted her to be fast with her movements, you wanted to feel her against your skin as soon as possible.

But Talia Al Ghul was not a woman of that type of kindness. She was vicious and she didn’t hide her viciousness in bed, either.

“Talia…” You murmured and she laughed at how your voice was so small and helpless.

“Oh, Beloved, I have just started.”

You shut your mouth. Talia pressed a soft, nearly invisible kiss to your knee. Your stomach tickled with butterflies, or with knives as Talia would say.

You didn’t expect her fingers to touch you that early, so after the contact she made, you moaned in pleasure.

She, again, laughed. Her pleasure was far different from yours. “I love it when you sound like that.” She inserted a finger inside you, playing with your cunt. She was slow, so slow that you started to grind yourself on her hand.

“So needy,” She reached over you. Her head was close to you, mouth touched yours as she talked, “I love it when you’re like this, also.” She kissed your lips. It was hard to bruise. She licked, bit, and kissed all at the same time. You couldn’t catch up with her but she didn’t mind at all.

Your hand caught her breast as her fingers got. faster. Another delicate finger entered you, and you breathed into her mouth. “Talia, please…” You started to plead. “Please make me cum.”

“You did it nearly ten minutes ago, Beloved.”

“Want it again.” Your words came out incoherent but she understood anyway.

“It’s okay, I shall give it to you.” She kissed your cheek. Her fingers got faster and faster as her thumb circled your clit. “Look at my eyes as you cum all over my hands.” She said.

You opened your eyes, you didn’t even realize they were closed. Her sharp eyes watched your face reveal every emotion rolling inside you. Your legs were shaking but you forced yourself to keep them open. Your voice got louder as she kept her pace.

“I know you are close.” She whispered to your ear, which was a lot more attractive than anything. “Come on, Beloved,”

You felt your heartbeat on her fingertips. Your view was hot white as you came. Her laughter made you tremble more. She kissed your cheek several times until her kisses reached your lips. She kissed you like she was your salvation.

And she was.

Even after you were out of your ecstasy, her hand stood in its place. You felt tired, so tired. “Talia,” you murmured. “What about you?”

“You’ll take care of me later, Beloved. It is my turn to take care of you.” You suddenly felt her hand’s absence. “Wait for me.” She kissed your forehead as she went to the bathroom, probably to get a clean towel.

As you waited for her, you remembered all those moments that happened literally ten seconds ago. You smiled. She was an amazing wife.

[ai-manre]

Phir Se Naina Mile: Chapter 1

A Fix-It Dhurandhar Fic

Summary:

'Balidaan Parmo Dharma,' the mantra had long been carved into his heart with blood, sweat and tears. Jaskirat Singh Rangi had lived by that. Hamza Ali Mazari had lived by that. Too bad Yalina didn't agree. (aka what if instead of ending up with no families, Jaskirat had ended up with two families?)

---

Pathankot was hot. Terribly so. It was a dry, raspy heat, the kind that got under your skin and prickled, carrying none of the humidity to which she was so accustomed. It reminded her of the one summer she’d spent in Lahore as a child. 

The dhaba was a modest place, with straw cots, peeling wall-paint and no air conditioning. No menus either- instead, the server verbally rattled off all the available items. But the food was good. Though Yalina did not see the appeal of piping hot food in this steaming hot weather, she did not know how other people bore it.  

A sudden laugh broke out from the large group sitting in the corner and Yalina startled, automatically drawing Zayan closer to herself. Suspicious, too suspicious, she chided herself and forced her limbs to loosen up. She tore a piece off the kulcha, scooped some chole onto it and held it up to Zayan’s mouth. Distracted by his new videogame, he absentmindedly accepted the bite. Her fingers broke off another piece and brought it up to her own mouth, chewing mechanically and forcing it down her gullet.  

‘On edge’ didn’t even begin to describe her state right now. Pathankot was an army town, which meant that the only other people in the dhaba, the group in the corner, were dressed in Indian army uniforms. Five men and one woman, all appearing to be in their twenties. Their chatter revolved mainly around complaints on the demanding days and ruthless superiors... It should not scare Yalina, her own husband was a special Indian operative after all. But still... her stomach writhed with nerves. She wanted Hamza here. With him at her side, she’d strode through the army-infested corridors in Delhi with not a falter in her step.  

This is what I chose, Yalina reminded herself. If I’m going to stay in this country, I will just have to get over it.  

Being in India, living in India, wasn’t the sort of thing she had ever imagined in her wildest dreams. But that day had changed everything.

After that phone call where Hamza had revealed his true name to her, she’d almost given up any hope of ever seeing him again. She’d fallen to the floor with the phone clutched to her chest. She’d wept and wept and wept, almost crying herself to sleep, unable to endure the harsh turn of fate, when her phone ringtone had caught her attention. 

The called ID had said ‘Unknown’. With trembling fingers, hoping against hope that it was her Hamza, she’d raised the phone to her ear. ‘Yalina Ali Mazari, confirm that it’s Yalina Ali Mazai’ a masked voice had commanded from the other end. That should’ve raised flags in her head, but well, what did she have left to lose? 

‘C5842F’ Yalina had responded with the safe code Hamza had created for her. ‘Confirmed’, the masked voice had responded, ‘Listen carefully, Madam Mazari, we don’t have much time. Hamza is being extracted. It has come to our attention that you are aware of some sensitive details about him. So here's the thing- if you want to be with him, this is your last chance. You and your son can be extracted alongside him tonight. It won’t be to Canada and you can never return to your country nor can you contact your loved ones again so-’ 

‘Yes!,’ Yalina had gasped out, before they could finish their sentence. ‘Yes, please tell me what to do. Tell me where to come.’ She had stumbled to her feet, glancing around herself like a panicked doe.  

‘Dureji. In three hours. Only you and your son, don’t bring anyone else. And trust me, we’d know if you inform anyone else. This would be your only chance.’ The line had cut. 

Perhaps, if she’d received such a call even a day before, Yalina would have hesitated, reconsidered, pondered upon everything she’d have to sacrifice. But that day had changed it all- those excruciating hours of believing Hamza to be dead or worse,  of thinking him gone forever, it had put everything else into perspective. At the root of it, it was simple: there were things Yalina could live with and things she couldn’t, could never. And the latter? That was never seeing Hamza smile again, never hearing his laugh, feeling his touch, kissing his lips…  

No. Anything but that.  

Decision made, Yalina had raced up the stairs, intent upon finishing the packing she’d started earlier that day. Mindlessly, she’d shoveled clothes into the suitcase-hers and Zayan’s. Then came a few keepsakes- her mother’s heirloom necklace, the watch Abbu had gifted her, the earrings Hamza had given her, Zayan’s favorite rabbit soft toy. And photos ofcourse, any and all that she could find were crammed in. A lifetime of her memories thrown haphazardly together.  

Somehow, Yalina had managed to pack, dress Zayan and catch a cab. As their car peeled away, some of the bodyguards watched her leave with visible confusion. "Call Abbu, he'd know what to do," she commanded Shafiq, the bodyguard closest to her. Then, they sped into the waiting darkness. 

In the car, there were no tasks to distract from the magnitude of her worries – for Hamza’s life, for her family she’s leaving behind, for the future. With trembling fingers, she’d dialed her Abbu and he’d picked up on the second ring.  

“Yalina, bolo bacche?” 

She’d sobbed into the phone, “Abbu..” 

The reply rang with his alarm, “Yalina? Kya hua mere bacche? Kaha ho tum?” 

“Mein jaa rahi hoon. Mein aur Zayan. Hamza ke paas. Aur kuch nahi bol sakti mein, par shayad desh chod ke jaana padega humein.” 

A moment of silence where she’d clutched the phone tighter to her ear. “Abbu?” 

“Haan bacche, hoon yahan,” His voice had been trembling and tears had dripped anew down her cheeks. “Don’t cry, my kiddo, don’t.. Mujhe tumpe bilkul yakeen hai, agar tum ye faisla le rahi ho, to tum sab kuch soch samajh ke hi le rahi hogi. I’m with you, whatever you choose, I’m with you.” 

In her arms, Zayan had shifted, “Nanoo?” Over the phone, she’d caught Abbu’s small sob.  

“Here,” Yalina had pressed the phone against her son’s ear. “Say bye to Nanu.” 

“Kyu? Hum kahi jaa rahe hain, Ammi?” 

Through the haze of water, she’d barely been able to make out his little features, so innocent and trusting, looking to her to make sense in a world like this. 

“Tumhare abbu ke paas jaa rahe hain hum,” Yalina had told him. “Chalo ab Nanu ko bye bolo.” 

Confused, Zayan had managed to convey his goodbye and goodnight wishes to his grandpa.  

“Mere bahudar bacche,” Abbu’s voice had rang strong from the receiver. “Yalina, meri sherni bacchi. Khud pe bharosa rakho Yalina, sab theek ho jayega.” 

Yalina had struggled to see how everything could possibly be alright. She’d either have to lose Hamza or her family, her country, her life. But that hadn’t been right, was it? She’d already made her choice. Just as she’d made her choice to stay that first night at Hamza’s old place. “Khud hafiz, Abbu. I love you.” Before her bravery could dry up, she’d forced herself to cut the call. She hadn’t dared to call her Ammi, afraid that it would push her past the breaking point. Besides, after Hamza had handed her the Canada tickets earlier that day, she'd called her Ammi up, craving the normalcy of a chat with her. They’d chatted about the weather, changing fashions, and the white bataks Ammi had started rearing after Abbu go on and on about Zarwari Uncle’s bataks. Ammi had interpreted Abbu’s rants to mean that he’d secretly wanted them. Yalina hadn’t disagreed, their shared conclusions had been vindicated when they’d caught Abbu circling the new bataks at all times of the day. 

The memories of that last call would have to suffice as a goodbye, because Yalina hadn't the strength to call her again without crumbling. Instead, she clung to the fond memories, and they warmed Yalina all the way up to Dureji Helipad.

Upon reaching there, two masked men had slinked out of the darkness. “Confirmation?” Yalina had asked them boldly, clutching Zayan tightly to herself. 

“C5842F” The muffled voice had responded. They’d then been directed towards a helicopter with the inky blackness cloaking their takeoff. Her ears had popped from the ascent and she'd ordered Zayan to keep swallowing to clear his ears. A few minutes later, once they'd settled into a smooth flight, one of the dark figures held up something.  

“Blindfold. Alright?” The voice had been that of a woman. 

The impression it'd given her had been that it wasn’t really a choice, but Yalina had appreciated the courtesy nonetheless. With a thudding heart, Yalina had agreed, glad that Zayan had fallen back asleep minutes into their ride.  

After what had felt like hours of torture, the helicopter's frame had drifted into a clear descent. Finally, under the heavy sound of the rotating blades, they'd touched down on the ground. When she’d finally been allowed to remove her blindfold, it had been to a sun starting to peek over the horizon of a foreign land.  

“Where are we?” Yalina had asked of the woman across from her, the one with the large kind eyes visible behind the mask.  

“Ahmedabad. Don’t worry, the worst is behind us now. You can get some rest before the next leg of the journey to Delhi,” As if sensing Yalina’s persisting fear, she had continued, “Trust me, you have nothing to fear from us. You are his wife.” A touch of reverence had colored the woman’s tone. It had been strange, Yalina had long become accustomed to the admiration coating people’s words when speaking about her husband, but this had been the first time it had felt so… honorable. Not the respect for a gangster wielding considerable power and authority, but the vicious pride a village would have in its hero. Ours, it had implied, he’s ours.  

As if summoned by her thoughts, a sardar stumbled into the dhaba, looking so unlike her husband that it took her a couple of seconds to recognize him. The long luscious locks were now bound under a turban. In place of his striking black Pathani kurta, he was wrapped in a soft pink suit. Beyond all, the biggest change was in his gait: he no longer stalked in like a panther, all danger and grace, instead his every movement was subdued and spoke of hidden pain.  

"Ha-Jaskirat!" She raised her hand to wave him over. Blank grey eyes drifted to her and he limped over. The turban added to his height, making him look ridiculously tall.  

"Abbu! Aap aagaye?" Zayan greeted happily. Immediately, Yalina glanced around in fear, hoping that no one had overheard him. Only, to her relief, it looked like the army group had left. They were alone in the dhaba now, except for the bored man minding the counter while watching a cricket match on the TV. "Aryan! Papaji bolna hai, samjhaya tha na tumhe!"

Zayan was Aryan, Yalina was Meghna, Hamza was Jaskirat. A perfectly normal Indian family. 

Hamza (Jaskirat) cracked a smile. With gritted teeth, he contorted himself into the empty chair across the table. "Sorry, I made you both wait for so long. I hope you liked the food?"  

"Yes, it was yummy!" Zayan grinned, showing his little teeth. Yalina didn’t reply, the proximity disclosed the pain and heartbreak shining in her husband’s grey eyes. Raw dread writhed like live snakes in her stomach.  

"Aryan, why don’t you go to that corner and play your game? Maybe you would be able to get to the next level," she suggested, pointing at the wall opposite to them. 

"But amm-" 

"Aryan," she rebuked sternly, "Your father and I need to talk, go to the corner please." Zayan pouted but followed her instructions, dispatching himself to the other side of the dhaba where she could continue to keep an eye on him but far enough to give them both privacy. 

"What happened?" Yalina whispered the moment he pattered away. Hamza’s tremulous smile withered and died, revealing the wreckage underneath. It made Yalina’s heart pound with mounting trepidition. "Were they not there? Did you not find them?" 

He peered blankly down into the empty glass of lassi resting on the table. A housefly, one of the many here, landed on the tip of Hamza’s nose, he made no move to dislodge it. Yalina reached out to flick it away. Once done, her fingers captured his chin and raised his head to meet her gaze. "What happened, Jaskirat?" 

"They were there. I saw them," He rasped, unshed tears shining in his eyes. Deep relief washed over Yalina and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. They were alive, they were here. Her worst fears had not been realized. 

"That’s amazing," Yalina felt tears spring to her own eyes. "I am so, so glad.. What happened then? What did they say when they saw you? Should we come along to meet them now?" 

"They didn’t." His face was an open wound, raw and blistered.  

"What?" Yalina didn’t understand. 

"I saw them. They didn’t. See me." His long fingers curled around her wrist and dragged her hand up his own face, from his chin to his cheek. He turned his nose into her palm, burying himself.  

"What?.. Wait, you didn’t show yourself to them?" Silently, he shook his head into her palm, almost like he was nuzzling it. Tears speckled upon his lashes wetted her fingers. "Mere jaan.. kyu?" 

"I couldn’t," he breathed. "What face will I show to them?" 

Gently, she took his face in both her hands and turned him towards her, not allowing him to hide. "This beautiful face," Yalina answered him, wanting so badly to kiss that hurt away. 

In their years together, she’d seen Hamza broken more times than she could’ve counted: the night Rehman Bhai had died, the time he’d received news of a massacre of Balochi children, the day Zayan had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. That one time Yalina had fallen grievously ill from jaundice and woken to find his hair splayed across her belly, his arms locked tight around her middle as if afraid she’d float away. Each of those times, she’d carefully pieced him back together with learned patience.  

Now, he appeared more shattered than ever before, irises resembling splintered glass.  

"Jaan- you don’t understand." 

"So help me, my dear, make me understand." 

"I killed my sister’s husband." 

"Not by choice."

"Does that matter? I made my own nephews fatherless." 

"And to make up for that, you will deprive your mother of her living son?" 

"They have moved on." He croaked finally, his whole face bristled with the pain. "Its been 24 years. They have moved on and built a life for themselves. A life without me in it. They are happy and peaceful, what right do I have to barge in on that?" 

It was incredulous, ridiculous, so far from the realm of reason that she didn’t know how to counter his fears. "Jaskirat… they had no choice but to live without you, but in what world does that mean they are happier without you? Do you truly think that if you returned there now, this very moment, and let them see you, they wouldn’t be overjoyed?" 

Jaskirat didn’t answer, silent tears streamed down his face. And therein lay the answer to his fear- his true fear.  

"You cannot truly believe that.. Jaskirat- listen to me-" But it was too late, he was shaking his head and drawing away- he’d already made his decision.  

"I have booked a room in a nearby lodge. Let’s go get some rest, we can catch the evening train."  

"But-" 

"I made a mistake leaving Delhi like that. I just hope Sanyal saab can forgive my disobedience for this one time. We should really get back to Delhi soon. Let’s go," Disengaging himself, he limped over to Zayan. They exchanged some words before he took Zayan’s little hand in his own and pulled him to his feet. Yalina had no choice but to arise and join them at the counter as Hamza cleared the bill. 

There was no getting through to Hamza once he’d made up his mind. 

@bway43 @iolahardy-blog @tere-naal-nachna @ib-gremlin @hamzaalimazari @harrystyleskiwi9 @misteriadare @dumbassdictionarysds @tanipartner @peach-preach @ruubby @mujhegharjaanahai @faebutterflygayaf @avilovesyou @mainyahaankyunhoon @eagleflieshighinthesky @browniemilkies @araasa @aaglagibastimainhumapnemastimain @bitchy-bi-trash @adirasenraizada @legendmoonstone @dil-ibaadat @luvmaii @pavbhajisupremacist @weepingbastiontwilight @speedyturtleprincess @sunxister21 @ppinkitten @severusthings @bway43 @araasa @aoyamaj3711 @browniemilkies @screwyoubatjokesiscanon

[writtenbyerica]

Justin Bieber Masterlist

Imagines

First Day Of Christmas Blonde Bieber: One | Two | Three Skinny Love: One | Two | Three | Four Just Saying: One | Two The Dancer Christmas Day Possession Parenting Nerf Wars: One | Two | Three The New Face of Calvin Klein I.L.W.A.M: One | Two | Three | Four The Journal Behaving Badly: One | Two Valentine's Day Biebing: One | Two | Three Drunk Texting Here We Go Again Little White Lies Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart Nervous Pool Party: One | Two | Three The Way I See You Now: One | Two | Three I Really Like You Hero: One | Two Party Favors: One | Two | Three | Alternate Ending Hovering You Don't Know You're Beautiful My Girlfriend"s Sister: One | Two Ma Meillure Amie: One | Two Anniversary: One | Two | Three | Four Release Day Wattpad Celebrations & Tragedies: One | Two Errands: One | Two The First Time Decisions I'm Just Your Neighbor, Girl I'm Yours Almost Due Soulmates Not Yet Colors Single Father: One | Two Birthday The Penthouse Suite: One | Two | Three I Don't Belong To You Beautiful Liar The Park Brother Husbands ft. Calum Hood

Blurbs

Justin As A Dad It's Your Birthday You're A Regular Girl You're Plus Size You Break Up With Him You're Jealous Of Hailey He's Jealous In Front Of His Friends Clingy Crop Tops Overreacting

[cheappickle]

⁰¹ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴛᴇxᴛs

𐔌 ⋮ feat ⋮ ꒱ isagi yoichi

𐔌 ⋮ genre ⋮ ꒱ fluff & crack

ᴄʜᴇᴀᴘ : no more kaiser rat jokes for me, although i did giggle every time & i would say to request but idk if ill be able to do your wonderful suggestions (still feel free tho!)

©cheappickle :: do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[lessthanathird]

How I l feel reading the nastys smut ever created