The way Ser Duncan the Tall spoke to his horses—you would've thought Sweetfoot was his wife. Soft and honeyed, deliciously sweet. "Easily startled, they are," he would say, "need a bit of encouragement is all."
Any hint of skittishness and it's "it's alright, darlin'" or "that's my good girl".
And former noble lady/companion!reader is awfully jealous. She's easily startled too. She needs encouragement. She's a good girl.
Dunk doesn't know why his lady pouts whenever he tends to the horses. Why her sweet face goes red and she seems to upset.
Egg tells him one day, "You coo to the horses more oft than to her. It's insulting." Dunk, as thick as ever, responds, "I do not coo. And she is a lady, I cannot address her as I do the horses."
But the next time she startles at a loud sound or pouts about the stale bread, he tries it. His voice lowers and he's murmuring sweetly, "It's alright, darlin'. There, now, you're alright."
And the way she flushes and instantly quits her fussing is unmistakable. She quiets and she's all soft and pliant and his and he'd never stop speaking if she responded like that every time (she will).
NOTES ⭑.ᐟ you’re responsible for the content you consume.
WORD COUNT ⭑.ᐟ less than 1.0k
AUTHOR’S NOTE ⭑.ᐟ likes, reblogs, & requests are appreciated and encouraged.
“baby, y’don’t need another bikini.”
he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes searching your face, biting back a smirk as he watched the pout form on your lips.
he’d gotten off of work over an hour ago, picking you up from your house, before driving you to the beach. you had dragged him into a local bikini shop in the center of tannyhill, holding up a pink bikini with a sweet pout rested on your plump lips.
“but it’s so cute, rafe!” you replied, fluttering your lashes at him with a gleam in your eye, the necklace on your neck glimmering in the dimmed lighting of the shop. it was a cute bikini, till he realized you owned at least six bikinis at home that looked identical to that one, despite your insistence that you didn’t have one like this one and you absolutely needed it.
he shook his head, walking over to you after pushing himself out of the chair he was occupying, grabbing the hanger out of your hand, “lemme see the tag, babydoll—“
his eyes bulged out his head, the $60 dollar tag staring back at him in mockery as he gawked at you, his brows furrowing further as he read the tag over, over, and over again.
“darlin’, that’s outrageous.” he murmured, his forehead creasing as he looked back at you. “sixty dollars for a bikini that barely covers your tits?”
if he thought your pout couldn’t deepen— it somehow did. you amped up the pitiful look in your eyes, your fingers curling around the thick muscle of his bicep, attempting to pull his body closer to you. “but rafey— look how cute it is! i don’t have a bikini with this pattern.”
he stared back at you, taking in the furrowing of your brows and the glossy sheen your lips had, his restraint slowly slipping away from him, his fingers tightening in the fabric. finally, a defeated sigh left his lips, reaching into his back pocket, fingers curling around the leather of his wallet. “alright— grab your size, baby, let’s go.”
you let out a squeal, pressing a glossy kiss to his cheek, skipping off to the racks to find your size, giggling at the defeated look on his face, watching him stand near the entrance.
he guided you to the register, handing the cashier his card, grimacing at the grand total of $62.85. staring back at him, unable to be bothered when he saw the happiness in your eyes. his fingers laced with yours, guiding you back to the truck, watching the way your free hand swung with the bag in your hand. “thank you, rafey.” you hummed, pressing a kiss against his jawline.
he hummed at your words, opening the passenger door to the truck for you, smacking your ass with a rough mumble. “y’better be thankful, baby.”
you buckled yourself in, setting the bag between your legs, feeling the rumble of the truck engine underneath your body. his hand found purchase on your thigh, fingers digging into your inner thigh as he squeezed at the fat. “y’gonna lemme pull them bottoms to the side later on, baby?”
your cheeks flushed, a chuckle leaving his lips at the smack you delivered to his forearm, pretending like you weren’t pooling in your panties at the thought.
𝑺𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── after leaving chicago with mob money, smoke and stack open up their own juke joint in the mississippi delta. when cash starts running low, they call on a favor from an old friend. that same favor came with a price, and now smoke’s new job is to protect one thing mr. laveau loves most, his daughter.
꒰ bodyguard elijah “smoke” moore x spoiled!black female reader. time setting can be interpreted by you, profanity used, sexual tension, suggestive content, criminal themes, power dynamic, older!smoke, younger!reader — very much legal 21 and above, dominant!smoke, brat!reader, light possessiveness. ꒱
the summer heat was evident in the backroom of the juke joint, the air heavy with the remainder of last night’s activities. smoke and stack sat at a small table, peeling apart stacks of crumpled bills from the register. business was decent, couldn’t complain, but not nearly enough to keep up with the promises they made after skipping town with pockets full of mob money.
after hitting both the irish and italian mobs in chicago, they hightailed back down south with blood on their hands and a vision of owning something that was theirs. the juke joint was supposed to be that vision. but when the profits didn’t match the heat they were under, they reached out to an old acquaintance, mr. laveau.
mr. laveau was cut from the same cloth as any other black man, but he made a name for himself in the mississippi delta. people didn’t go to him unless they really needed to. still even with all the power he possessed. he couldn’t protect his daughter from everything, so he fronted smoke and stack a loan with one simple string attached — one of them would serve as his daughter’s personal bodyguard and that duty fell onto smoke.
“ain’t you supposed to be picking up lil miss right now?” stack asked, raising an eyebrow as he skimmed through the cash. smoke sucked his teeth and let out a low hiss, already irritated. “damn,” he muttered, pushing back from the table. “finish countin this for me, and don’t fuck up. you know damn well yo ass can’t count past ten without usin your fingers.” he pointed a serious finger in stack’s direction.
stack looked up, insulted. “nigga i can count the hell.” smoke didn’t bother arguing. he was already on his feet, grabbing his keys off the hook near the door. “be safe,” stack called after him. smoke nodded once, “always.”
by the time smoke made it across town to [ꪆৎ]’s house, the sun had started to set. his mind was tangled in thoughts of how to make it up to the girl, how to soften her disappointment, how to explain without sounding like he was making excuses.
he hated being late, especially with her. she wasn’t just some job or favor owed anymore. no, she was something else entirely. something that gnawed at him in his quiet moments and pulled at him more than he cared to admit.
the tires crunched over gravel as he pulled up to the laveau residence. the house stood tall and proud, just like the man who built it — gated, guarded, protected. he adjusted the collar of his shirt, wiped the sweat from his brow, and approached the front door like he had serious debt to pay.
the door swung open before he could knock, and there she was. standing there in dim lighting, arms crossed, lips pursed in a pout that could get her anything she wanted. the dress she wore was the color of warm strawberry cream, soft pink with a delicate texture. it hugged her body with purpose, the corset bodice sculpting her waist and lifting her chest just right, while the skirt flared out.
smoke leaned against the doorway, his eyes trailing down the length of her legs. those soft, thick thighs he remembered tracing with his eyes, countless of times, distracted.
he remembered when she first tried that dress on in the boutique, standing barefoot on the carpet, indecisive, per usual, with two different options in hand. she had walked out the dressing room twirling, asking him, “this one… or the other one with the slit?” and his only response was to toss both on the counter and pull out his wallet.
now, here she was standing in front on him. wearing the one she’d picked for the day, looking too fine and too proud for her own good. “you’re late,” [ꪆৎ] said, voice soft, but the pout on her lips and the disappointment laced in her tone cut deeper than anything loud ever could. smoke blinked, shoulders tightening as he looked at her. “i know,” he sighed, eyes softening with guilt. “i’m sorry, miss.”
[ꪆৎ] didn’t move. she just stared at him, slow-blinking like she was deciding whether or not to slam the door in his face. she wouldn’t. he knew that, but the possibility was still there.
“pa already left,” she said, finally stepping aside to let him in. “told me not to wait, but i did anyway.” smoke stepped inside, letting the cool air hit him, but it didn’t do much to ease the warmth crawling up his neck.
“i appreciate you waitin”, he said, glancing down at her again, the way her thighs brushed together as she turned, her scent lingering in the air — a hint of vanilla and something fruity he couldn’t put his finger on. “you look… real beautiful.”
[ꪆৎ] scoffed, soft but pointed, her back to him now as she reached for her small purse on the foyer table. “you only sayin that cause you late.” “i’m sayin it cause it’s true,” he replied, voice low, watching her from the corner of his eye. “and i apologize, should of been here earlier.”
she waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “you ain’t never been late before,” she said, stopping at the mirror near the door to check her makeup. she shook her head, “not this late.” smoke sighed, “we had a long night at the joint. stack was draggin his feet countin.” she turned toward him, giving him that look. the one that made his chest tighten and his mouth go quiet. “you should’ve left earlier. you know how my daddy feels about being on time.”
smoke nodded, taking the weight of her words. he stepped forward, just a little closer than polite. “i ain’t worried about what your daddy thinks,” he said. “i’m worried bout how you lookin at me right now.”
she tilted her head, arms folding once more across her chest — drawing the dress tight across her bust, the top straining dangerously close to slipping down the soft swell of her breasts. the motion was unintentional, but it still left an affect on him.
“and how’s that?” she asked, one brow raised, her voice laced with challenge. “like you wanna be mad,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her chest before meeting hers again. “but you miss me just a little.”
her lips twitched, the pout threatening to soften. “i don’t miss you,” she said, turning to open the front door, but her voice had gone soft again, stinkingly sweet. “i just hate waiting.” smoke followed her out, his hand brushing the small of her back, lingering longer than he should’ve. the fabric was soft, but her skin beneath it was softer. “then i’ll make sure you don’t have to wait next time,” he said.
[ꪆৎ] glanced at him from the corner of her eye, “you better mean that, smoke.” he opened the passenger door for her, holding it with that quiet kind of care that said everything he couldn’t. “i do,” he said simply. and he meant it.
she sat into the passenger seat without a word, her legs crossing slow, deliberate. smoke rounded the hood, settling behind the wheel and starting the engine, but he didn’t pull off just yet. silence settled for a beat too long before she spoke.
“you know you don’t have to call me ‘miss,’ right?” her voice was soft but direct, eyes fixed ahead through the windshield, hands resting in her lap.
smoke glanced at her, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “and you don’t have to call me smoke.” that made her turn. just a little. enough to look at him from under her lashes, a faint smile threatening the edge of her lips. “well… i don’t know what else to call you,” she said, half teasing, half serious.
he shrugged, shifting the car into gear. “you’ll figure it out. i’m sure you got all kinds of names for me in that pretty little head.” she let out a quiet laugh, turning back toward the window, but the tension eased, for now.
“you were supposed to take me shopping,” she reminded him. “i had half the boutiques in town holding things”, a frown showed on her face. “i know,” he nodded, making the first turn onto the road. “and we still are. just got a little sidetracked.”
“you always got an excuse,” she huffed, crossing her legs slow like she wanted to be seen. knowing good and well her dress was sliding higher with every movement, showing more of those soft thighs he could never ignore.
smoke glanced at her, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. he knew her game. she wanted a reaction out of him, but he wasn’t the type to let her get her way just yet.
he cut his glance from her to focus on the rode. “you gon keep actin like that, or you gon let me make it up to you?”, he asked, voice low, laced with warning to check her attitude. she didn’t answer right away, just smirked to herself, fingers toying with the strap of her purse. “you lucky i’m still in the mood to let you spend money on me,” she said sweetly, like she hadn’t just tested his patience on purpose.
“not doin it cause i’m lucky,” he muttered, giving her another look, longer this time, letting his gaze linger on the fat of her thighs. “i’m doin it cause you deserve it. even when you sitting in my car with this fake pissy attitude.”
she didn’t say anything to that, just pressed her lips together, fighting a knowing smile, and turned to look out the window. that told smoke everything he needed to know. the rest of the ride hummed with quiet tension. not awkward, just thick. like both of them had more to say but neither one wanted to be the first to cave.
they pulled up to a boutique tucked between a flower shop and a record store, one of those high-end spots with blacked-out windows and gold-painted lettering that barely needed to advertise. everyone already knew who it catered to.
smoke killed the engine and turned to look at her, but she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, hand poised on the handle like she didn’t need him. still, he got out first and came around, opening her door like he always did. a gentleman, no matter her mood.
she hesitated for a second, just enough to make a point, then placed her hand in his. her fingers slid into his palm like they belonged there, soft and warm, with that quiet kind of confidence that always knocked him a little off balance.
smoke steadied her as she stepped out of the car, slow and smooth like she knew he was watching. the second she rose to her full height, her perfume hit him again. it wrapped around him thick, curling low in his gut and settling somewhere behind his zipper.
he clenched his jaw, eyes flicking away too late. the soft bounce of her body, the way her dress clung when she moved. every step she took made his self-control slip just a little more. his pants had already begun to tighten, his bulge pressing uncomfortable and obvious against his slacks, the effect of just being near her. and the worst part? she knew.
the way her gaze dropped for a second, and the slow curve of her smirk afterward? she didn’t need to say a damn thing.
no cars were in sight. the boutique was empty, just like it always was when she came. the owner knew better than to have customers hanging around when [ꪆৎ] laveau was in. she liked to browse in peace, and with her last name, peace was something folks were quick to make space for.
just as they crossed the threshold, smoke held the door open for her. “you gon behave in here?” [ꪆৎ] scoffed, brushing past him with a toss of her curls, hips swaying with purpose. “that depends. you gon show up on time next time?” her tone laced with sharpness. then she paused, just long enough to glance back at him.
“i ain’t no child,” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “and i damn sure ain’t stack, so don’t talk to me like i am.” he just stood there for a second, watching her sway farther into the store.
he should've been annoyed. he should've put her in her place. but truthfully? he liked the way she said it, low, firm, with that little bite in her tone — damn near made him grin. he stepped up behind her, close enough for her to feel his presence. “you right,” he said, voice low and steady in her ear. “you ain’t no child.”
she froze for half a second, then kept walking like she hadn’t heard the change in his tone. as if just his tone didn’t make her wet. “and if i wanted to be round stack,” he added, following her with calm, measured steps, “i’d be back at the juke joint listenin to him count ones like they fives.”
[ꪆৎ] tried to hide her reaction. “i’m here with you,” he continued, watching the way her fingers skimmed over fabric. “so act like you know the difference.” she turned to face him then, dress she picked up in her hand. “is that you checkin me, smoke?” he tilted his head, eyes dragging from her face down to the hem of her dress. “nah. that’s me remindin you who you talkin to.” a beat of silence passed between them, hot and heavy like the mississippi air.
their moment of silence was interrupted as quick as it came. “miss laveau,” the girl behind the counter called, perking up. “everything you requested is in the back. i’ll set up your fitting room now.”
“thank you, baby,” [ꪆৎ] replied, her tone softening just enough to let her charm peek through. she turned back to smoke, gaze flicking down the aisle of mannequins and dresses. “make yourself useful.”
he didn’t say a word. just followed her as she moved from rack to rack, holding every dress she picked out. she held a champagne-colored dress up to her frame, studying herself in the mirror near the end of the row. “you gon stand there lookin, or help me pick?” she said smartly over her shoulder, not even glancing at him.
smoke stepped up behind her. he reached past her slowly, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder as he plucked a deep red slip from the rack. it was cut low, short, made of silk, and left nothing for the imagination. something she could wear only for him.
“this one,” he said, holding it out. “fits that smart ass mouth.”[ꪆৎ] turned her head a knowing gleam in her eye. “you sure you can handle my mouth?” smoke met her gaze, unbothered, that lazy smirk working its way across his face. “i been doin just fine so far, ain’t i?” she rolled her eyes with a small huff, snatching the dress from his hand, but not before their fingers brushed. [ꪆৎ] grabbed two more pieces on her way to the fitting room.
smoke watched her go, brown eyes trailing her figure the whole way down until the velvet curtain swished behind her. “you need anything, miss laveau, just holler,” the shopgirl called after her. “i’ll be alright,” [ꪆৎ] yelled back.
smoke exhaled slow, dragging a hand down his face as he leaned against the nearest wall. the boutique was still and quiet again, except for the hum of the AC and the faint rustle of fabric behind that curtain.
she hadn’t even been in there thirty minutes. and already, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep playing it cool.
sevyn’s note: i didn’t feel like writing a smut scene, just know the poor girl that works at the boutique would of been traumatized 🤭. expect more smoke fics and i hope yall enjoyed, feedback is welcome <3.
he slams the car door like it personally pissed him off. no hello. no compliment. just the growl of the engine and his jaw clenched like he’s grinding diamonds between his teeth.
you, perched pretty in the passenger seat in a soft pastel pink set and glossy lips, blink at him.
“hi to you too,” you say gently, trying to keep it light, even as your eye twitches.
he doesn’t look at you. just mutters, “seatbelt.”
you click it in, still hopeful. “well, this is cozy... i missed your grumpy radio silence.”
“jesus,” he mutters under his breath.
your lips press into a thin line. okay. asshole.
you try again a few minutes later. “so… where are we going? you didn’t say.”
“does it fucking matter?” he bites out.
your hand curls into a fist in your lap, voice wobbling just slightly. “i was just asking.”
silence.
he drums his fingers against the wheel like it annoys him just to have hands. takes a turn too fast. your perfume fills the car and he doesn’t say a damn word about it, even though he always notices. always makes some cocky remark like, “perfume’s doing all that manipulative shit again...” not today.
you stay quiet the rest of the ride, stomach tight, heart sinking.
୨♡୧
at his place, you follow him in like a damn ghost — still trying. you sit on the edge of the bed while he yanks off his hoodie and flings it across the room.
“you’ve been quiet,” he says suddenly.
you blink. “you’ve been mean.”
he looks at you. “i’ve had a shit day, y/n.”
“i know,” you say, voice soft but starting to sting. “and i’ve been nothing but sweet to you. but you don’t get to treat me like shit just because you’re in a mood.”
he rolls his eyes. “jesus, everything with you is a thing.”
your jaw drops slightly. “excuse me?!”
“you always need a reaction. a compliment. a fucking thank-you. you can’t just exist without needing attention every second.”
that’s it.
you stand up fast, voice sharp and shaking. “well sorry for expecting a little effort from my boyfriend. and you know what? i do need attention. i’m prissy and i’m spoiled and you fucking knew that when you begged for me in the first place!”
rafe doesn’t move. his arms cross, eyes narrow, mouth tight — like he’s daring you to keep going. but he doesn’t say what he should’ve.
you grab your purse off the dresser, chest heaving. “i’m going home.”
but before you can reach the door, his voice, quiet and rough, cuts through the tension.
“don’t go.”
you turn halfway, arms folded across your chest like armor. “why not? so you can keep snapping at me for breathing?”
he looks at you. the gloss on your lips. your perfectly styled hair. the way your stupid little floral cardigan slips off one shoulder like it’s trying to break him.
he steps forward and grabs your wrist, not rough, but firm.
“i had a bad day,” he says again, a little softer this time. “but you’re the only part of it that wasn’t completely fucked.”
you blink.
you exhale shakily, stepping into him, pressing your forehead against his chest. “you suck,” you whisper.
he smirks slightly, finally wrapping his arms around you. “yeah. i know.”
synopsis: being your brother's best friend, Ellie is always at your house, and it pisses you off badly. One day, you decide to show her how much you hate her.
contents: bbf!ellie, spoiled reader, alcohol consumption, mentions of driving under the influence (do NOT do that EVER), switch!ellie, switch!reader, almost getting caught, smut.
wc: 3k
part 2
And there he was, in all his glory, Jake laughed out loud with a red cup in his hands, some boys talking to him, and by his side, as always, stood Ellie.
“Y/n!” your brother yelled with a bright smile, opening his arms as you entered the room. His smile suddenly faded though, when Jake saw that you didn't smile back. “Is everything okay?” concern dripped from his furrowed brows.
Jake was an asshole, as all the older brothers usually are, but sometimes – almost never – he showed that he cared for you. When he wasn't showing that he cared, he still did, but in silence, I mean, he couldn't risk his careless bad boy facade.
“I'm tired. This music is fucking with my eardrums and the floor is disgusting and sticky” Your voice was thick like honey, a small pout forming on your mouth.
With the side of your alcohol glossed eyes, you saw Ellie rolling her own.
Jake pushed himself out of the counter looking at his watch “Damn, it's pretty late.” He stated, nodding his head up and down, the alcohol not helping his small brain.
“And mom and dad will be here early in the morning,” you added, doing your part in convincing him to end this nasty party.
“Alright everyone, party's over!” Jake screamed and a big toothed smile opened in your pretty face.
You pushed your back against the counter this time, grabbing the cup your brother had left there and bringing it to your shining lips.
“Spoiled brat.” Ellie murmured under her breath by your side.
“You're just jealous that things don't happen the way you want, when you want.” Your shoulders lift in disdain.
“Yeah, sure” she looked you up and down before pushing herself off the counter and disappearing in the sweaty crowd of people complaining about the end of the party.
Weirdo. A hot weirdo though.
Jake emerges in front of you like magic. “Gonna need ‘ya to do me a favor” his voice came out sweet, just like every other time that he wanted something.
Your brow came up in suspicion.
“What?”
“I need you to start cleaning the house…” You opened your mouth to disagree, but he spoke on top of it “Just the basics, trash on the trash can. I'll call someone to clean it up before our parents come back.”
“No fucking way. Look at this place! There's trash everywhere”
“It's not negotiable y/n, Ellie's gonna stay here with you while I drive some friends home, alright?”
Ellie appears by your side smiling widely at your disgusted expression.
“She's going to be fine dude, it's just some cleaning, it's not going to kill her. Right princess?” her voice dripped with sarcasm, but Jake was way too much out to notice it.
You stared at her with fake disgust on your face, your eyes rolling back so hard that it was as if they were stuck in the back of your head.
“Alright, take care of her Ellie”
She smiled lazily.
“I'm serious. Don't let any of these drunk dudes near her.
“Sure thing”
Jake yelled at some people out in his wake, giving his fingers at those who complained.
“So…” Ellie said, stretching the word as long as she could while watching you grab trash bags in one of the cabinets.
“Don't start”
“Damn, calm down babe, haven't even said anything.”
You reached down to start cleaning the house, grabbing disgusting red cups off the floor with one hand while holding the trash bag in the other.
“I would like it if it stayed that way” you didn't bother to look at her as you spoke. “It is not like anything that leaves your mouth has some value or something.”
Behind you, Ellie clicked her tongue and stared shamelessly at your body in the awkward position you were in.
“Are you gonna help or not?” Her deep green eyes had started to burn holes in your back, you couldn't pretend not to feel her staring anymore.
Looking over your shoulder, you see that fucking lazy smile over her lips once again, as she started to collect the red cups as well.
“You know, my mouth does more than just say shit that you don't find valuable.”
“Excuse me?” You turned around to look at the auburn-haired girl.
“You said that nothing that leaves my mouth has value, well, my mouth does more than that.”
The way she said that so shamelessly made you want to strangle her. How could she say such things in your own house without even flushing?
Your face and neck burned in flames.
Without responding or looking at her, you went to the living room with the silent excuse to clean there.
You lowered the volume of the music, not turning it off completely, but leaving a comfortable background sound. The living room was empty, besides a pair of girls leaving the house.
Sighting at the sight of the mess in your usually so shiny cleaned living room, you keep collecting red cups and cigarette butts from the floor, the couch, and basically every fucking where.
Your shiny pink nails don't fit this activity, you weren't born to do this, actually, this is probably the first time that you are cleaning anything besides your own bedroom.
“If you keep with that disgusted expression, it will probably burn in your face and stay there forever.” the voice entered the room with her.
“Shut up.”
“You're so spoiled it's actually unbelievable” she let out a low chuckle as you scoffed.
“You're in my fucking house and you think you can tell me shit like this?” You turn around just to find her spread up on the couch lighting what seems like a joint.
The way she acted like this was her house too, always makes you want to punch her in the face. She and Jake were inseparable since kindergarten, that's true, but it doesn't give her the power to own your place.
“What?” she looks up at you from her comfortable position when your eyes don't leave her form.
“What? What do you mean? Come fucking help, Williams, you heard Jake!”
Ellie calmly inhales the smoke
“Yeah I did, I don't believe you did though. He said ‘take care of her’ not ‘help her’, so do your job baby, I'm gonna sit here and enjoy the view while you do so.” That was the last straw.
Without thinking, you grabbed a cup – with whatever liquid was inside it – from the center table and threw it in her face.
Ellie stayed still for a couple of seconds. Eyes closed in shock, the joint was drowned in her hand. You did your best to hold your laugh given the circumstances, but you just couldn't.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” she almost yelled, trying her best to dry her alcohol-wet eyes.
“What is wrong with me? You! That's what's wrong with me! This is my house, so stop acting like I'm your maid or some shit!” You didn't bother to lower your voice as you walked to her pointing your finger at her face.
What you didn't expect was that you would slip on the liquid on the floor and fall on your knees, face on her breasts.
Ellie let out such a loud laugh that you thought she was insane. Shame burned your face when you attempted to get up and stumbled on your feet.
“Oh, now I see. All this attitude simply because you wanted your pretty lips around my nipples? Damn babe, that's insane.” She couldn't stop laughing, and that just made you angrier.
How could this girl be so fucking pervert and shameless?
“You wish, Williams, you fucking wish. Bet your biggest wet dream is something like that.” You finally got up, taking your hair out of your face and trying to look unbordered.
Her face went still for a second, but just a small second, you couldn't catch it if you were distracted, then, she smiled lazily – that damn lazy smile that pissed you off so badly.
“Yes, it is. What are you going to do about it?”
Your face dropped in disbelief.
“What? You said and I confirmed”
“I- i didn't mean it that way- i” you stumbled over your words, not knowing what to say or how to react.
“Well, it looked like you did.” Ellie put her hands on your hips and instantly put you on her lap, your pretty thighs around her, your knees touching her hips.
You didn’t know how to react, so you didn’t. You just stood there, faces so close you could feel her breath on your lips. You could feel everything: your tight dress rolled up and exposing your panties, her firm hands holding you down so hard as if she felt that you could melt onto her fingers – you actually could.
“Ellie, what are you doing?” She didn't answer, she just smiled proud of herself.
When you noticed, Ellie’s lips were brushing yours, not kissing, just silently letting you know that she wouldn’t do anything if you don’t prove that you want it.
Do you want it? You surely do, you want to kiss those pretty plump lips since forever. But you couldn’t just give in like that, could you?
Her face got close – if it was even possible. You breathe caught on your throat in anticipation.
“I’m not doing anything if you don’t take the first step,” Ellie’s lips were so close, it was like heaven millimetres from you.
But those eyes, those lustful eyes, that made you lose it.
“I hate you” was the last thing you said before pulling her by the collar of her hoodie and crashing your lips together so hard that your teeth caught each other, but it didn’t stop you. Nothing could stop you now.
Her hands were gripping and holding you everywhere – thighs, waist, hips, boobs, ass, everything.
The sounds Ellie was making against your lips were driving you insane, your fisted hands on her clothes leaving the place shamelessly to go under it.
Ellie broke the kiss with a small line of spit connecting you two. Her heavily breathing making your pussy clench around nothing.
“That doesn't quite look like hate, you know?” she played it off, as if her pupils weren't blown wide and her hips weren't bucking up against your heated core.
“Let me show how much i hate you then” you said against her neck, leaving lazy kisses on your way as your hands found her nipples free under her hoodie.
Ellie let out a heavy sigh when your fingertips touched her. Her back arching, quivering even more when you got on your knees.
“Oh god” the whisper left her messy kissed lips with desperate dripping from it.
“I'm not god babe, it's not him who's making you feel this way, it's me. Call my name, not his.” Your voice dripped with thick desire.
You fluttered your lashes at her, not minding the puddle of alcohol under your knees. Your hands pulling at her hoodie, eyes hungrily looking at her as if Ellie were the god here.
“Can you take these off for me? Pretty please?” Your forced pout resulted in a desperate Ellie ripping her top out in no time.
Your mouth salivated at the sight. Hard brownish nipples centimeters from your pretty smeared lipgloss lips.
“Y/n please baby, please…” You couldn't hold the small chuckle you let out at her breathless voice before attaching your lips to her nipple. It fitted perfectly inside your mouth, like it was made to be there.
You sucked and licked, taking your time while watching her back arched off the couch, hearing her heavy breathes and the pleads of your name leaving her mouth. It was a sight for sore eyes.
Ellie brought her hand to your hair, making a messed up ponytail to hold your head in place. Her free hand came to your face, pressing your cheeks so your mouth would suck harder against her. You did not complain though, the feeling of her inside your mouth was heavenly.
It was delicate, if it were a person who weren't paying attention to Ellie, they would not notice the slight movements her hips were making against the sewing of her jeans.
Before you know it, Ellie's moans are growing high pitched, her hands holding you harder, and her hips moving faster and faster, until it finally comes to an end.
Your lips let out of her with a loud and wet pop and you look up at her, just to have the most delicious vision of your life: Ellie Williams catching her breath after an orgasm.
“Did you just came in your pants?” you ask already knowing the answer, but you just couldn't lose the opportunity to mess with her.
“Can you not?” she murmured with a raspy voice and closed eyes, pushing you to lay on her lap and just be there while she catches her breath.
Breathing lightly onto her neck sweetly, you get yourself comfortable on her lap and circle your arms around her naked torso.
And then, the doorknob clicks.
babes, feel free to talk to me through my asks, i love talking to you 💕
Everyone knew Jabber had a soft spot for you— since the first day you two met, actually. You two met at the mall, and he bumped into you, knocking all of your bags out of your arms. Helping you pick them up one by one, you brushed it off as an act of kindness, but he believed you were his soulmate.
So… he trailed you throughout your shopping trip, swiping his card before you could reach for yours every time. Since that day, he wouldn’t leave your side, playfully begging for your number as he walked to you to your car.
You were used to being spoiled by your dad, so his money didn’t impress you. It was the way he showed up for you that spoke volumes.
Wanted to try a new restaurant? He was already booking a reservation.
Your nail broke? Jabber was planted right next to you, getting a clear coat of polish on his nails because you wanted him to.
Need to rant? He was there listening to every word as you paced around his living room.
He knew your order at every restaurant, telling the worker every detail down to a T.
However, you weren’t stupid; your dad had been in the game long before you were even thought of. When he said he was “handling business,” you knew what that really meant, but never asked questions.
Jabber sat on the couch scrolling on his phone, waiting for you to get ready. He was taking you out to brunch.
Smacking his lips, he called out for you, “GIRL, COME ON, BEFORE WE BE LATE.”
As soon as he finished his statement, you were already making your way out of his bathroom, “I've been ready, come on before we're late.”
He looked at you in bewilderment… when you walked past him.. Rushing him?
Dragging his hand over his face, mumbling lowly, “There is no way in hell.”
Pausing your movements, cupping your hand around your ear, “Something was said?”
Jabber blew out a breath, “No ma’am.” While going to open the car door for you.
You both made it to the brunch place, sitting in the booth, looking over the menu. “Mm Jab look.” Pointing to the red velvet waffles that had the ‘limited time only’ sticker on the corner of them. “That looks good, get it.”
Shortly after the waiter came to take orders, then left.
Taking a sip of his drink, he questioned, “You been good pretty? Ain' no body fuckin’ wit you?”
You shook your head, “No, I know how to handle myself.” “Good.”
You and Jabber began talking about everything under the sun. He plans days like these just to catch up with you after he's been busy with his work.
Slightly poking your pink glossed lip out, “I missed you. You’ve been gone a lot…”
He sighed, “I know I've been busy, that’s my fault, pretty, imma do better.”
Grabbing his face, you gave him a soft kiss, “It’s okay, promise.”
The food came out, and all that was heard was the forks scratching the plates. You finished your food quickly, leaning back into the cushion of the booth as you huffed from feeling full.
You grabbed your phone out of your purse, deciding to scroll while you waited for Jabber to finish his food.
You see, Jabber had posted a new story, clicking on it, it showed a picture of you from the other day.
posted 40 minutes ago… | playing… girl with the tattoo -miguel
You lowly cooed while listening to the song play quietly in the back.
Hearting the story, you looked over toward Jabber, seeing as he was done with his food, you poked him with your nail. He turned, giving you his full undivided attention, waiting for you to speak.
“I want you to meet my dad, Jab.”
@kajismp3.! 🦎 ◟
𝜗𝜚. you will be seeing more of these two in the future!
rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.
and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?
like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.
“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.
“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”
rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”
y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”
and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.
so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”
she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”
he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”
because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.
“what did i say, baby?”
she pouts up at him. “but—”
rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”
she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.
“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”
rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”
“yeah.”
he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”
she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.
“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”
she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.
“maybe.”
rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”
she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.
so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.
when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”
-
now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.
and he can’t help himself.
his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.
“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.
y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”
he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”
she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”
and his heart melts.
because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.
so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”
she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”
rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”
she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.
he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.
and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.
he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.
yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.
-
rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.
his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)
he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.
rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.
he has to kiss her.
so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.
but she feels it.
she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.
“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.
rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”
her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”
“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”
her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.
he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”
y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.
rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”
she exhales. “you.”
and he’s done for.
he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”
“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.
“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.
she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”
rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.
because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.
when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.
rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.
You have been lying in bed, in the dark, for the past hour just staring up at the ceiling. You tried to distract yourself with your phone, scrolling through tiktok for a few minutes before you eventually got bored and decided the silence was better company.
But now the silence was too much.
Shaking off your duvet, you heft yourself out of bed, mentally cursing the cool rush of cold air. You debated slipping on a pair of pyjama pants, but decided against it. You only ever went to sleep with an oversized t-shirt. Braless, and pants-less.
You don't even bother slipping on your slippers, opting to just tiptoe your way out of your own room. Feeling for the doorknob, you twist it open.
A dull, gray light filters through the windows, a weak moon casting long shadows across the living room as you dart past, tiptoeing across marble floors. You regret not wearing your slippers.
You squint in the dark, recognising the faint outline of the sofa, its upholstery frayed in places. Next to it the dark wood surface of the coffee table is engulfed by lingering shadows. You couldn’t even guess the time— if it was late night, or early morning.
Your footsteps were unhurried and confident as you climb the stairs, step by step. It was almost like you were in a trance. The short journey was natural, instinctive— habitual, almost.
There were definitely perks to having such a great housemate. When you first moved to London, you weren’t expecting to live with a footballer. Your older sister had told you that an old friend of hers from sixth-form had a spare room to rent out, and you immediately jumped at the chance to live in central London for a really, really good price.
You certainly weren’t expecting the old friend to be Leah Williamson, captain of the women's national team.
Making your way to the only room in the second floor, you push the door open with zero hesitation, as if opening the pages of a well-worn book, already prepared for what you were about to see behind the doors.
You see a mass of dark hair peaking out of the covers first, dark and inviting.
The only light that spills into the room is faint. Shadows of moonlight peek through the edges of the curtains. It enters the room, pooling into the corners, tracing the outlines of the furniture in ghostly, quiet silver. The streams of light touch the edges of the bedspread and trace the curves of the headboard, highlighting the subtle grain of the dark wood interior.
Tiptoeing over to one side of the bed, you clear your throat loudly before you shake the figure awake.
“Wake up.”
A quiet moan sounds from beneath the covers. You roll your eyes, already annoyed at the extra company. You’ve done this routine far too many times at this point. You feel for a bony shoulder and nudge it again, a little harsher this time.
“Oi. Up you get, c'mon” You raise your voice a little louder. Since when did scaring random women out of your housemates' bed become your part-time job?
The stranger finally wakes up. She opens her eyes, squinting up at you, a look of annoyance written all over her face.
Sadly for her, you could not find it in you to care one bit.
She was pretty, to be fair. Minus the smudged black eyeliner decorating her face and the pillow lines across her cheeks.
Must've been a wild night then.
You ignore the sudden twinge you felt in your chest.
The mystery woman speaks. “w-whats going on?”
Good thing she’s not a screamer like some of the others.
"Did you not hear me the first time? Get up and leave"
The woman turns to Leah who is still fast asleep and nudges her, as if asking for help. These woman are all the same. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, shifting on your feet. The floor was cold and you’d ideally like to be underneath warm covers right now.
"L-Leah..." All she gets is a groan of annoyance. The woman in question shifts further away from her bedmate until she is nearly at the end of the bed. You couldn't help but chuckle, quickly masking it with a hand over your mouth when a noise unintentionally escapes your lips.
Unfortunately for you, this one was stubborn and desperate.
She fishes her arm out from under the covers and shakes Leah’s shoulder even harder. When she realises that her one night stand wasn’t budging, she finally sits up against the headboard.
The blanket falls slightly off of her frame, exposing one bare shoulder.
There’s that weird tight feeling in your chest again.
You advert you eyes to the sleeping blonde with her back turned towards you. You were tempted to grab a pillow and start smacking her until she woke up. The annoying fucker.
"Who even are you?" The woman pipes up, her voice scratchy, like nails on a chalk board.
"Her fiancée."
You could've cackled straight to her face at the way the woman's eyes widen like saucers, looking back and fourth between you and the blonde’s back.
But then you hear a low chuckle from the other side of the bed.
Thank god.
“Leah, tell your little friend here to leave”
The Lionesses captain rolls over to face you the both of you, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She raised her arms up to stretch, giving you a peak of a black Nike sports bra.
The small smile she gives you is full of Williamson snark, as if she fully anticipated the sight before her. You weren't new to kicking her one-night endeavours out of her bed, and it's almost as if she found some weird enjoyment out of this.
Finally she address her new buddy. “You should go”
“Excuse me?” The audacity of this woman.
“You heard my fiancée, get out.”
The woman doesn't wait a minute longer. She huffs, throwing off the blanket muttering under her breath. You swear you heard her utter “bastard” somewhere in there.
Luckily, she was semi-dressed, wearing a strapless bra and a pair of underwear. You had seen far too many naked bodies before and you would ideally like to not see any more.
She grabs her clothes littered all over the floor, half-assedly throwing them on as she fumbles with buttons and zippers. Her movements were sharp, impatient, as she darts all over the room. Without a glance back at the two of you, she scurries out, slamming the door behind her.
Turning back to the blonde, you find her sitting up and already staring at you. Seeing her one-night stands run around like headless chickens the morning after was the norm for the blonde. While she explicitly states that she’s in for a good time, not a long time, others do still like to push their luck.
Luckily, you’re there to snap them back to reality.
"Well...she seemed nice"
The England captain rolls her eyes, flopping back on the bed. "You scared her off"
Scoffing, peeling back the covers and slide in the now empty space beside her. The spot has been kindly warmed up for you, how nice. “Want me to call her back in here then—?”
You make a move to get back out of bed, but Leah grabs your wrist, tugging you down and draping the covers back over you.
“Nahh, I’ve got you now. Can’t sleep?”
“No.” You sit up, leaning half of your body up against the headboard. You’ve been in and out of sleep the past couple of hours. “That’s why I’m in your bed”
“To talk?”
You side-eye her, sensing an accusatory undertone. “Yeah. To talk”
“Besides,” You poke her on the arm. "I’ve got to keep my fiancée in check"
You share a laugh.
"Wasn't as bad as the time I called you my wife" Leah chuckles, low and breathy. She turns to you, sharing a smile as you both reminisce the pure look of horror on that poor woman's face.
Fun times.
Before you could say anything else, Leah moves over, laying her head on your chest and getting comfortable again. She had the worst case of bedhead, you think to yourself as you look down at the mess of blonde locks.
You smile as you run your fingers gently through the soft strands of blonde.
She hums at the action, her body visibly relaxing. She seemed to take it as a sign to scoot closer to you, so she does. She drapes an arm across your waist, dragging you closer to her own body, snuggling further into your side. The blanket wasn't the only thing offering you warmth right now but you ignore that fact for now.
You both bask in the silence for a minute. While you were preoccupied, trying to comb through her hair, you failed to notice sly fingers curling under your oversized t-shirt.
Your breath hitches as a warm finger strokes the skin by your hip. For a split second you freeze, but then you remember it's just Leah.
It’s just your housemate.
Her finger continues to caress the lace resting on your skin before she makes a humming sound again, to herself, as if in deep thought.
After a while, she speaks again. Her finger not having left your skin. "This is new”
You hum in agreement. It was indeed new. A cheeky little purchase from Agent Provocateur, a gift to yourself after the shitty week you’ve had.
“It's lace,” a finger hooks into the band, pulling it away from your skin briefly. "…and satin, huh"
Her fingers dance across the scallop lace details by your hips, caressing the material like this is a normal occurrence between housemates. The air between you is thick with the weight of what isn’t being said.
You let her, selfishly enjoying her delicate touch against your skin.
"yeah," clearing your throat, you squeeze your legs together for a moment, praying she didn't notice. But you doubt that when the gentle touches move down to your bare thigh, massaging the tense flesh.
You try to ignore the urge to keep your leg still instead of pressing it further into her palm, a greedy little thing. Her touch is soothing and natural. As if this is all a regular occurrence. You continue, "It's from their new collection— it’s pink”
You're not sure why you felt like you had to share that information. It's almost as if you were tongue-tied and can only focus on the fingers still tracing patterns on your skin.
Leah shifts slightly, squinting up at you. Pretty blue eyes meet yours, scanning, searching for something. The air between you thickens, charged.
"yeah?" she murmurs, her voice low and husky. Traces of sleep still linger in her voice and you find yourself oddly lulled by the sound of it.
You nod, adverting your gaze. Lately, you've found yourself unable to meet her eyes at times. You focus on combing her hair back, the bangs she had cut short a few months ago now long enough that it drapes over her eyes.
She continues to look up at you, cerulean blue eyes almost yearning for your attention again. You couldn't ignore them from your peripheral, so you will yourself to meet them with your own.
Whatever she sees in your eyes seem to dictate her next move. She drops her gaze to where her fingers are slowly pulling up your t-shirt, exposing bare skin, until they grant her a peek of magenta pink lace.
“oh yeah,” She agrees, more to herself. As if it was necessary for her to see it with her own to eyes.
She smirks that annoyingly attractive smile before she lets the shirt drop back down over your hips. You can almost taste the air she breathes, a sharp sweetness that clings to your tongue. “s’nice, baby.”
Leah runs her hands over your hips, above the shirt. She’ll keep the memory of pretty pink against your bare skin tucked safely in the back of her mind; cradled in the quiet, sacred corners of her thoughts, where nothing but longing stirs.
She then slides her fingers back under the material again, keeping them there, her touch less hesitant and firmer this time. You won’t be surprised if you find finger marks around your hips and thighs tomorrow morning.
You feel her thumb start to rub circles on your bare skin again, moving greedily against the lace. Her breath fans your neck, close enough that you could just about feel her lips, whispering a secret only meant for you. “I like those on you"
oh to be platonic housemates with a hot football player (who also happens to notice when you’re wearing new underwear) x
・❥・- kisses, butter
*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!
