#hotel diablo
Introducing Whiskey - 28th February 2022
2022 Honda NHL All-Star Game at the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada - 5th February 2022
D&G F/W 2022 Men’s Collection show in Milan - 15th January 2022
Milan Fashion Week - 14th January 2022
“last night she said “yes” under the banyan tree”
Calvin Klein - 6th December 2021
Machine Gun Kelly and Megan Fox for GQ Style
New York - 15th September 2021
New York - 14th September 2021
MET Gala After Party - 13th September 2021
VMA’s - 12th September 2021
New York - 8th September 2021
‘Good Mourning With a U’ - 1st September 2021
Los Angeles - 23/8/21
Nobu - 17th August 2021
Los Angeles- 11th August 2021
born with horns - coming soon
Chicago - 31st July 2021
Malibu, California - 1st August 2021
- Colson’s IG
Lollapalooza - 31st July 2021
➴ Summary:feelings last, even when the hollywood sign blinds you.
➴ Pairing:JP Cappelletty (Rook) / fem!reader (3rd POV).
➴ Warnings:Angst, 18+: sex.
➴ Wordcount:1.8K
➴ Tagged:Homie as usual @angelaiswriting
➴ Author Note:Hi! I’ve opened up a Ko-Fi page. If you like my content and would like to support me, you will find the link to it in my bio. You can also search my name (renmartell) up on the Ko-Fi page. Thank you!
(Y/N) doesn’t know where she is. In some loud club in downtown LA that is giving her a headache. She can see Joan somewhere in the crowd, dancing with strangers… Martha is long gone. She sits in the bar and waits for the night to be over so she can return to the hotel and sleep what’s left of the trip.
It’s not that she’s ungrateful, she’s just… tired. When Joan told her she had planned a weekend in LA before the wedding, (Y/N) had thought it meant sunbathing and shopping at rich people’s stores, not a tour through all of the clubs this shithole of a town has to offer. It’s been a long time since (Y/N) gave up this kind of life for a more tranquil, domestic one, and not once has she regretted her decision. Not as much as Joan has in her behalf, at least.
A weekend isn’t much: that’s what she tells herself as she turns around to order a drink. She can do it. If she lets go a little bit, she might even like it. What’s the worst that can happen, right?
“(Y/N)?” An old, forgotten voice calls from behind her.
Oh, the voice in her mind exclaims right before it starts to panic. (Y/N) freezes on her spot, drink on mid-air as she blinks in confusion. “What’s the worst that can happen?” she repeats, mocking herself and cursing whatever is up there that has chosen her to be tonight’s Sims game.
“(Y/N)!” He calls again, closer to her ear this time. Close enough that she can smells him.
She turns around, feigning confusion. As if she has not recognised his voice… which, after so long she shouldn’t have (but that’s not something she’s going to think about tonight). She gives it a couple of seconds, one good look at him and then…
… the act begins. “JP? JP Cappelletty?” She exclaims, laughing as she tries to ignore how the side of his mouth curves downwards for a split of second at her words. Not what he had expected, for sure, but all she has to offer after so many years and a lot more than what he deserves.
He’s quick to recover, laughing and opening his arms. “That’s me!” He engulfs her.
She wants to die. She wants her life to end in this exact moment. Because then, she won’t have to let go of him again.
As he pulls back she finds herself missing the contact. She almost grabs him to pull him back against her… but when she lifts her hand the ring glows under the club’s lights and he is quick to catch on it.
JP smiles through a tornado of emotions. “Congratulations.” All happiness is gone from his voice. She nods, lowering her hand and accommodating it in her back pocket.
“Thanks.”
There’s nothing that can make this conversation return to normal (or as normal as it was), but sure as hell he’s going to put through the discomfort and keep it going. “Who is he? Do I know him?”
“No. How could you?”
Her words were innocent… right? Yes! No… she isn’t sure. It’s the truth: she met him in college and the last time she and JP saw each other was in high school. So, how did the truth sound so mean?
JP sighs, dropping his facade and sitting in the stool next to hers. “Ouch…” he laughs. “I guess I did deserve that one, huh?” She nods again. “I waited for a call… it never came.”
“Oh, was I the one supposed to call? I thought being the one still in school and with a decent schedule I was supposed to wait until the rockstar was free to be worth of some words. My bad, I guess.”
(Y/N) shrugs her shoulders and takes a sip from the now watered-down drink she forgot she had. If he is going to drop his facade and talk the real talk she’s going to do the same, and he ain’t gonna like it.
Not one bit. “And since we’re at it. I did call, but I never got a response. I even went to a concert back in Cleveland.”
He frowns, his pose becomes more rigid and he grabs the stool until his knuckles turn white. “What?”
“Yes,” she turns her head back to the crowd, looking for Joan to get her out of here. “Saw a couple of girls headed towards the bus and one of them threw herself at you. You said: “I’ve been waiting for you baby.” And got into the bus with her.”
(Y/N) lets the drink in the bar, sighing. She has turned herself towards him and is now looking right into his eyes. She had forgotten how pretty they were (and she curses herself for thinking so and for the way her cheeks redden at the sight). She rises a brow, waiting for a response. Coming from him, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she never got one.
JP swallows, looking regretful. He tries to speak a couple of times, but when nothing comes out he gives up and orders two new drinks. “I was young and stupid.” It’s his excuse.
Young and stupid doesn’t mean heartless or cruel, no matter what people might think. He was old enough to go around touring with a famous rapper… he was old enough to cut things and not let her hanging from a string of hope like an idiot.
“I was seventeen and pregnant, Johnny.” And you left me alone throughout the process, she wants to add, biting her tongue to avoid doing so. No point in remembering a painful past when she has a future waiting for her at home. Right?
“We decided on not having it.”
“We also decided on not leaving me alone at the abortion clinic.”
Their drinks arrive. JP empties his in less than a second. (Y/N) takes her a small sip of hers and puts it down, not losing sight of it. You never know… people aren’t good. She has to be cautious.
With each passing second, JP becomes more and more nervous.
Whatever he’s holding inside him is asking─no, begging─to be let out. It also looks as if he wants to throw up (which she can’t blame him for, giving how much and how fast he’s drinking).
(Y/N) tries to change the conversation to a lighter one. It doesn’t work. He keeps going back to their past and his mistakes and her fiance. She’s not sure she wants to know what’s going on in his mind.
At last, he rubs his face and then faces her. “I fucked up. But not a second has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and the life we could have together. And believe it or not, I still want that (Y/N).”
In all seriousness, this is the most serious she’s ever seen him. Even when he drums he likes to fuck around and not give it importance… but now, now the truth is out there and he’s laid his cards.
Hers? You want the truth? Well, here it goes: the truth is that she wants to beat him up as much as she wants him to take her to the bathroom and fuck her until she forgets her own name.
He’s a lot stronger than she is… so she scratches the first option and grabs his hand, leading him away from the bar and into the back of the club. She opens the door to the bathroom, making sure no one is in there, then closes it and pushes him against the door.
His lips feel familiar and their bodies move in flow. As if nothing had changed. Just the two of them rushing to become one. JP turns them around so that now she’s the one against the door. He unclasps his belt and then presses himself against her. Her dress going up by the second.
“Wait─I don’t have a condom with me.”
“You clean?” He nods. “Me too. Now shut up.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
(Y/N)’s hands find the hem of his trousers and the pushes them down alongside his boxers. His, at the same time, are pushing her dress up to her waist and discarding her panties somewhere in the floor. Not that she’s going to need them (or retrieve them, to be honest. Her dress is long enough to cover). JP grabs her waist with one hand while the other grabs her face and he forces her to look at him as he enters her. (Y/N) tries to bite down her moans but it’s impossible, as her walls stretch to accommodate him, she pleas and curses and wraps her legs around his waist so he can reach deeper inside her. She can’t feel but pleasure, the guilt that tried to make her reason is now gone, not even buried, just gone. Right now it’s him and how he’s moving to pleasure her. How he feels as if he belongs where he is. She moves her hips in sync, kissing his lips as he murmurs words she can’t or wants to understand. Faster, harder, deeper, the sounds emanating from her throat echo in the bad-lighted bathroom. Johnny lets himself grunt, sometimes a moan escapes his lips as well and she clenches at the sweet sound. He trembles, her legs lose strength. It’s not long until he finishes inside her, making her back arch as she herself lets go and feels the wave of pleasure take over her, cumming all over his cock.
He remains inside her for a couple more minutes, until he softens and she’s able to maintain herself on place without falling. His semen now runs down her legs, but she makes no deal out of it.
(Y/N) lowers her dress and brushes her fingers through her hair. She tries to fix her makeup to no avail and then turns around to face Johnny. He’s got his trousers up now and is ready to leave. She had expected him to be gone… but he is waiting for her.
“I’m getting married next Friday.” She walks up to him and gives him a kiss. There’s something in her that’s begging her to not let go. She doesn’t listen to it. “It was nice seeing you. Goodbye, JP.”
As she leaves the bathroom, she notices a pain in her stomach that she can’t ignore. She walks, walks and keeps walking. She doesn’t even stop to tell Joan. If she stops, if she looks back, there’s no way in hell she’s leaving without Johnny. No matter the tears that fall, the weird looks, or the way she can’t hold back her cries, she can’t look back…
… or can she?
➴ Summary:based on mgk’s song “why are you here”, he and the reader end up in the same club after lying to one another, and choose to let the coke speak for themselves.
➴ Pairing:Colson Baker / fem!reader (3rd POV).
➴ Warnings:Angst, 18+: sex and drug use (and abuse).
➴ Wordcount:2K
➴ Tagged:@angelaiswriting
➴ Author Note:Angie and I dared each other to write a fic based on this song. I like how it came out! Hope you enjoy it.
Colson is used to this pace, this world. It’s where he belongs. For her, she needs an extra help. A bit of stardust to let go and not feel out of place when she feels the blast of music running through her veins and she sits in the laps of men she doesn’t even know for the night. Waiting until morning, when shame creeps up through her spine and shakes her like an infant a doll. It is no use to make up excuses if she can’t even remember what she’s excusing to begin with.
John─Jake, Jordan, whatever his fucking name is─squeezes her side, smiling up at her. Snow, she observes him for a moment, taking him in: tall, even though he’s sitting their height difference is obvious, dark hair and skin so pale she is tempted to call him Dracula. J─at least she’s sure his name starts with a J─is a friend of Colson she had never met before, but hardly as interesting or entertaining as the ones she has, or Colson himself. J is a nice dude, used to a different environment, and she is almost sure it’s the first time in his life he’s done coke.
She almost feels bad for using him. Smiling, she lowers her head until her lips are pressed against his ear and she leaves a soft kiss. As she’s to speak, the words get caught in her throat. Her gaze following someone behind J, walking into the club with a redhead at his side and a blunt hanging from his lips. It’s almost comical how, as if sensing her, he turns his head in her direction. She can see the colour leaving his face, his jaw clenching as the blunt finds home between his fingers and he presses his lips together.
Colson, still grabbing the redhead’s side, begins walking towards the lounge she and J are, not once breaking contact with Snow. Though she sees the colour returning to him, the fire that is now starting on his eyes, she feels no shame in her lies as he probably doesn’t on his.
She was supposed to be alone, he was supposed to be at home. Yet here both of them are, not a single soul on the club knowing what’s about to go down.
“Jordan!” Colson’s voice is heard over the music, and Jordan─see? She knew it began with a J─looks up at him, laughing. He stretches his hand, keeping his legs still to balance Snow. Colson shakes it and proceeds to sit on the couch in front of them. His date right on him, even though he isn’t even looking in her direction. Colson keeps on looking at Snow.
Jordan, still with her on his lap (and he seems in no rush to get her to move), lights up a blunt. He nods at Colson, exhaling the smoke with ease. “It’s good to see you man. What’s new?”
Snow becomes bored ten minutes into the generic conversation of two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while but have no actual interest in changing it. So she does what she does best: piss Colson off. Her hands grab Jordan’s hair and shirt and she takes her sweet time murmuring in his ear and making him chuckle. Her lips press against his skin more often than not and from the corner of her eye she can see Colson tensing up.
It’s not wrong to have a little revenge on him, is it? She’s right to be pissed. Yes, she lied as well but, what else was she supposed to do? Their relationship─if she can even call it that─is a rollercoaster of highs and lows, of fighting and laughing, their screaming sometimes mixing in the night and not even themselves can tell if it’s a fight or sex, or both. She wanted a night to herself, to be with someone she doesn’t want to murder and hold at the same time. A night of hectic peace that surrounds her in darkness.
She sighs, defeated. Colson wants the same. It’s becoming too much for them to handle. Yet, it is not in her nature to give up and, given how he follows her movements, neither it’s in his.
“You men are boring,” she speaks over the music, getting up from Jordan’s lap and offering Colson’s date her hand, “let’s dance.”
Eve (Colson’t date) is nicer than she expected her to be when she first saw her. A New Yorker having the time of her life in LA, she moves like the club it’s her natural habitat. Snow has a hard time following, her brain wanting to shut off due the alcohol she had been taking, but as Eve grabs her hips and brings her closer, her hands going down to Snow’s ass, she lets herself go again. She wraps her arms around Eve’s shoulders and follows her movements, turning them around so that she can look at Colson and Jordan, looking at them like hawkes a rabbit. A voice in the back of her mind is telling her to stop, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. This is the life that’s left for her after all, whether she likes it or not…whether she wishes to not spend it alone or not. She better make the most out of it before it ends.
So she dances: twirls, twerks, jumps, laughs. She has the time of her life while the person she loves sits in a couch observing her, right next to her date. At some point she’s sure she and Eve have made out as well. It’s not long until she needs a refill.
She winks at Eve and, without stopping to tell either Colson or Jordan that she’s leaving, she walks over to the bathroom she knows it’s free─since she’s the only person to have a key─.
The music begins to fade, her thoughts are louder with each step she takes. She has to grab her head and pull on her hair with light force to recover; a loud ring on her right ear makes her want to scream. She sighs. It’s like this all the time: fun to be high until the drugs are wearing off and her brain wants to punish her as much as possible. She knows she deserves it, she’s not going to fight it. Just a bit more to make it through the night, that’s all she needs.
She pushes the door open, walking inside. As she’s going to close it, a hand stops her from doing so. Startled, at first, she pushes harder, until she hears his voice.
“It’s me.”
No. She should tell him no, close the door, do her own business and go back to dancing. It’s the right thing to do, the sane thing to do. But, which one of them is sane? Neither. That might be the fucking thing about them: the craziness, the jealousy, the toxicity that threatens to kill them every day but that both of them hold onto. It’s insane and they love it, and they can’t have enough of it.
So what does she do? She opens the door, lets him in. Watches as he closes the door and turns the lock on. Last thing she sees from the outside is the digital clock in the wall: 12:05.
Colson turns to face her, takes one, two, three steps forward, forcing her backwards until she hits the sink. She feels his hands grabbing the back of her thighs. He lifts her without issue─which, considering his physique it’s surprising─and sits her on the sink. She wraps her legs around his waist, he gets closer. This moment tastes like heaven and hell on Earth and she almost swears she could get high off it alone.
She grabs his chin and he presses their foreheads together, inhaling. His lips are so close she can’t help herself and runs her thumb along them, trembling when Colson catches it on his mouth and sucks. Her womanhood pulsates, sending pleads all throughout her.
“I told him we’re old friends,” Colson whispers, kissing her earlobe.
She laughs, tilting her head to the side. She replies: “We can never be friends.”
Her next words die in her throat, with Colson sucking and biting her neck and his free hand between her legs, she has trouble forming a word, let alone a sentence. Colson understands her like no one has before: he knows where to touch her, when to touch her, if it’s too much or not enough, she never has to tell him (except if he wants her to beg). He knows her limits and she knows his, and this connection is something she needs to live. She needs it─him.
And she needs fucking coke. Right fucking now.
She grabs Colson’s hand from between her legs, “wait, let’s have some first.” And although she can see him swallowing hard, clenching his jaw and the forceful nod that he lets out and is all but convincing, she doesn’t stop.
This thing: snow, coke, Tokyo, flour, it has had so many names she can’t remember them all, it’s fucking her up, but so is this world and she isn’t going to give it up.
Colson takes the bag from his back-pocket. He doesn’t move from between her legs; as he opens it, he looks at her with a worried expression that makes her heart sink.
“It’s the last time.” He’s serious this time. “You don’t need this shit.”
She scoffs, moving to take the bag and stopping dead in her tracks when Colson puts his arm up and the bag out of reach. She looks at him, upset for a second and then…with an unreadable expression that seems to take a toll on him. “Neither do you. Yet here we are.”
“So…” he leans in until his mouth is against her, but he doesn’t kiss her, he goes on: “this is the last time we do this fucking shit, ‘right?”
Nodding, she seals a lie with a kiss. Colson, who knows this isn’t the last time the two are going to find themselves in this situation (and, knowing them, together), opens the bag and dips in, taking a small amount on his finger. He takes it first, with her caressing his hair as he does and kissing his face. He feels the rush less than a second after and her touches become more and more. He repeats his previous acts, this time placing his finger under her nose. He observes as she inhales it, watches as her pupils dilate and the rush kicks in. He closes the bag and discards it somewhere in the ground.
She’s the one to lean in this time, her kiss is harsh and desperate and he wraps his arms around her in an attempt to feel her even more. His hands find trouble getting rid of her corset and she laughs, but he manages to do it. As it falls to the ground, she moves and helps him with his shirt. Then, her jeans, and his, their underwear, and Colson finds himself between her legs: his cock touching her wetness and begging to go in. He’s kissing her neck but she keeps on grabbing his face and forcing her to look at him.
Colson gives her a quick kiss, chuckling when she follows his mouth. He takes a step back, helps her get down the sink and turn around, bending her. There’s confusion in her face for half a second, until he’s back against her and this time he does enter her pussy. She lets out a loud, long moan and grabs the sink until her knuckles turn white.
She feels his fingers tangle in her hair, a soft tug and she’s staring at him through the mirror. He thrusts into her at changing pace, but not once dares to break eye contact. When he goes slow, she wants to cry and scream at him. Yet, when he goes faster, she wants him to slow down and let them savour this moment. He leans in, kissing her neck. She’s tempted to turn her head and kiss him but that’ll anger him.
No, she tells herself, he wants to see her; her tears, her moans, and the ugly face she makes when she cums.
It’s all right for it to happen, so long as it’s the last time.
