#(I've been fantasizing about it for the last 2 days)

[epicfranb]

Fuck it *takes my old DSMP AU and turns then all into girl OCs* who's gonna stop me now.

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places. 

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks. 

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again. 

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you. 

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. 

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear. 

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms. 

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now. 

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump. 

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside. 

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive. 

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones. 

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been. 

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch. 

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen. 

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive. 

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female. 

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him. 

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs. 

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears. 

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.” 

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.  

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole. 

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them. 

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time. 

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so. 

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.” 

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway. 

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget. 

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another. 

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Can you write one about were Logan x female reader x oscar or Lando x female reader x Oscar or Logan x Female reader x oscar x lando

Where They are at a afterparty for a race and since y/n was being a needy and bratty all race week and weekend long before they went to the after party some one of the 2-3 drivers had put a vibrator up her ass and at the party since she was still acting needy and bratty they started to turn up the power of the vibrator as they keep teasing her until she is on the edge about to cum and they stop telling her it’s her punishment for taking bratty all week and race weekend long as she started to beg and plead to let herself finish, they all take a car home to there shared apartment and but the vibrator at max power again and continue this in their room were they end up have unprotected sex, use rope and a mouth gag, blindfold, call her dirty names and say dirtier things to her or in her ear and after for aftercare they take super good care of her

Oscar is a Dom and in charge Lando and Logan can we doms or switchs, y/n is a sub

I'm actually gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now, I love you anonymous 😘🫣.

You Shouldn't Have Done That

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader x Logan Sargeant x Lando Norris

I hope I did you justice (for gotham)

Warnings: SMUT, Bondage, Vibrators, Overstimulation, Bratty Y/N, Sucker Logan, Mean Lando, MEANER Oscar, Crying, Slapping, Anal, Triple Penetration, probably more but I forgot

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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part 2

A knock at the door is what drew my attention away from my phone that I'd been staring at for the last 15 minutes reading a few of these 'fan fictions' about my boyfriends that people were DMing me. Apparently somebody with no life named 'logansargeantsbabymom' has been making shit smut and posting it on Tumblr.

"Baby, race is about to start" I could recognize that beautiful English accent from a mile away.

Normally hearing Lando's incredibly sexy voice would make my bones start jumping in my skin but apparently I'm not the only fucking one because people fantasize about having the filthiest sex with him, write about it, post it on Tumblr and his fans eat it up!!

"I'm coming" I said nonchalantly as I got off the sofa that Lando had in his drivers room.

Lando held the door open for me as I brushed past him making my way to the back of the garage and then out of it. I didn't want to see him.

"What's wrong with her?" Oscar says as he came up from behind Lando

"I've got no clue but if she keeps it up I'm fucking it out of her" Lando shrugged before putting his helmet on

One thing about me is that I will make sure I am the one that puts on all three of my boyfriends helmets on them. I love to go up on my tippy toes to bite the tip of their nose before placing a kiss on it then the helmet on them. I've always done it even if we had gotten into the biggest argument on planet earth but right now, that's the last thing I wanted to do for Lando. I couldn't do it for Oscar either because then I'd fell bad for doing our normal race day tradition on Oscar and then just dipping and leaving Lando alone.

I also didn't want to deal with the consequences of "favoriting" Logan if I only did it for him so I skipped out on the tradition as a whole. The race was about to start in 10 minutes which means the drivers are all about to or already in their car and getting ready to get out on the track. I couldn't go back into the McLaren garage or I'd have to face two of the three boyfriends I'd just pissed off and I couldn't go to the Williams garage because they probably already texted Logan. So I went to the next best place: The Mercedes Garage.

I was forbidden to go in the Mercedes garage alone because apparently Lewis has a 'thing' for me, which wouldn't surprise me because I'm hot.

"Hey Y/N, what're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be biting your boyfriends' noses?" I knew that cheeky English accent and it belong to the man that I was never to be in a room with alone.

"Lewis! Supposed to? Yes. Am? No, they pissed me off so I'm ignoring them." I shrugged. I really couldn't care less how they were going to react to me breaking tradition.

"Isn't that just going to get you in trouble?" Lewis said cautiously

"Not as much trouble I'll be in if they find out I was here with you alone." I chuckled as I shrugged.

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket like crazy which caused me to whip it out and see what the fuck was going on.

Fantastic 4

Fav Butt Plug: I swear to the heavens above Y/N if this girl whose on the screen right now is you in the Mercedes garage with Lewis ALONE, I'm having your ass tonight. Oscunt: I want to know what the fuck has you all pissed at Lando but I don't like your little stunt of ignoring ME. Me: Stalkers Logie: Baby, why didn't you come to put my helmet on? Fav Butt Plug: You have one more time to piss me off Y/N.

"Lewis do you want to help me with something real quick?" The idea I had in mind was sure to make the tabloids right away and send the internet into a frenzy

"I don't like the general direction of where your idea's go." I waved a hand at him

"Let me put your helmet on you, I promise there will be no kissing" I looked at the clock, Lewis had 5 minutes before he was to be getting on the track and with a quick nod of his head I took the helmet out of his hands before securing it on his head before giving him a big smile and a bear hug before he was ushered into his car.

As I was exiting the Mercedes garage, I didn't know where I was going to go. Everyone is still in their respective garages and I'm NOT facing my boyfriends right now. Shortly after my encounter with

Fantastic 4 Fav Butt Plug: expect 10 orgasms MINIMUM tonight. Oscunt: None of which from me so don't ask. Logie: Did I do something baby? Why did you put Lewis' helmet on and not mine? Oscunt: Logan, she's being a brat. She didn't put mine or Lando's helmets on. Logie: I'm sorry for whatever I did to you, my sweet girl Oscunt: She acts this way because you give into her every ask, this is your fault Logan. I hope you crash. Logie: first of all, don't say that because I still don't have a seat for next season. Secondly, I do give into her every word because she's my pillow princess. Me: At least someone appreciates me, I love you Logan Logie: I love you more. Oscunt: She was never spoiled or a brat until you came along Logan, maybe you deserved to get punished alongside your dear 'pillow princess'. Me: Don't you dipshits (not you Logan) have a race? Stop texting me and drive.

————————

And drive is exactly what they did because Lando came in 1st, Oscar 3rd and Logan 4th.

The race was definitely a hard one with the on and off rain, the wall of champions and the hairpin but somehow they all managed it and they did it well.

Usually when one of my boyfriends has a good race weekend the victory sex is amazing but all 3 of them placed in the top 4? I don’t think I’m getting ANY rest tonight.

I stood by the scale so I could congratulate 2 of my boyfriends for their victory podiums but after they were congratulated by their team and they recorded their weights, they walked right past me.

I felt a sharp pain in my heart at their act but then I realized why they did what they did, I was being a brat before the race but if they wanna act like that, I will one up them.

I turned my head to the man who was currently getting his weight recorded and the man who came in second. It also happens to be the same man who I’m not allowed to be alone with.

“LEWIS!! CONGRATULATIONS!” I screamed as I hugged him, making sure to make the hug last a little longer than a typical ‘friend’ hug would last while also swaying us side to side.

"Y/N! Thank you, thank you. Are you coming to the after party, we already rented out the whole bar?" There was a little sparkle in his eyes that gave me an idea.

A sly smirk plastered itself on my face "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, especially if you're going to be there!" I placed a quick kiss on his cheek before placing my hand where I had just placed the kiss.

"Y/N!!" It was a loud and angry yell that should've scared me but it did the exact opposite, it turned me on.

I turned to face the person the voice belonged to, to see Lando with the meanest glare I've ever seen on his face. I gave a little nod goodbye to Lewis before making my way to Lando.

"Hey my handsome winner" I said when I got close enough as I ran my hand through his thick and messy curls, it didn't last long though because he grabbed my wrist and dragged me with him to his drivers room.

When we got there he opened the door and shoved me inside where I was met with my other two boyfriends who looked less than pleased with me. Lando slammed the door shut which caused me to jump and face him.

Lando's face didn't shift a bit from his angry demeanor. "Oh, is bunny scared? Surprised she can act any other way that isn't bratty" I heard a voice from behind me say as a chest was up pressed against my back and felt the back of a hand trace the side of my face before gripping the flesh of my throat.

"Oscar" it came out as a choked groan

I saw Logan from the corner of my eyes fishing something out of a box that Lando had stowed away behind the sofa before he made his way over to us. Oscar still had his hand on my throat but he ushered me towards the massage bed Lando has before aggressively bending me over on it which caused me to let out a groan. I could hear Logan's footsteps coming closer to where Lando was before handing him a pink object and I felt Oscar's hand at the hem of my leggings before yanking them down along with my panties.

At first Oscar was just playing with the flesh of my ass and occasionally leaving harsh slaps on it saying things like "You asked for this", "take this part of your punishment like a good girl and maybe I'll tell Lando to go easy on you." I heard Lando whisper something to Oscar and then I felt one more final and harsh slap on my ass before I felt Oscar's hands spread open my ass cheeks and forced his thumb in my tight asshole thrusting it in and out before shoving the Lush lovense vibrator where his thumb once was.

A loud string of moans and curse words left my lips before I felt a pair of lips on mine swallowing my moans. When he pulled away, I opened my eyes to see my favorite American right there looking at me with sympathetic eyes. Logan never liked when I got punished and had to deal with all the roughness Lando and Oscar put me through, he only liked soft, vanilla sex most of the time.

"It's okay baby, just be good" Logan said before he placed a soft and tender kiss on my lips.

Oscar's rough hands yanked me back into a standing position and Lando bent over to lift my leggings back up and over my waist before lightly slapping my cheek

"This is how you're going to the afterparty, don't you even think about cumming until we get home OR unless me or Oscar give you permission." I knew he was going to leave Logan out of giving me permission because he gives me basically everything I want with just a bat of my lashes.

-----

We've only been in this bar/club for less than 30 minutes and I'm already sweating. I'm not sweating because there's a lot of people in here all grinding against each other, no I'm sweating because Lando keeps turning the vibrator on the fastest setting and letting it go just until I'm about to cum before he turns it off denying me any sort of relief and he's done this about 6 times already. I can't do this anymore.

Lando turned the vibrator on full blast and watched as I squirmed in my seat as I was having a conversation with Alex

"Are you okay? You're sweating more than normal right now and you keep fidgeting" Poor Alex, she seemed so concerned

"Yeah I just have to go to the bathroom, I've had to pee for a while now but I didn't want to interrupt your story" It wasn't a total lie, I didn't want to interrupt her story but I didn't have to pee.

"Oh Y/N, go to bathroom, I'll be here!" with that I quickly made my way to the ladies room quickly checking every stall before settling into one and taking the vibrator out of my ass, sighing in relief before wrapping it in toilet paper and tossing it into the bin.

Exiting the stall with a smile on my face, I quickly washed my hands before making my way back to Alex.

"Hey, sorry about that again. I really had to go" I tried to sound sincere, mainly because I was.

Alex finished telling me about her story about how Charles surprised her with a trip to Sydney and all the fun things they did over in the down under when I felt quick and rapid taps on my shoulder, prompting me to look at the man who was tapping me aggressively.

"Baby, we have to go now, Logan just got really sick" My heart dropped and I looked over Lando's shoulder to see Oscar helping Logan out of the bar.

"I'm sorry Alex, I have to go" I didn't wait for her response before I bolted past Lando and out the door.

Much to my surprise when I made it past the bar doors, I saw Logan and Oscar laughing up a storm and having a good time. My mouth hung in shock as I couldn't believe the sight in front of me. I was about to turn around to give Lando a piece of my mind for lying to me and making me cut my conversation short.... AGAIN.

"Lando! How dare you lie-" I couldn't finish my sentence due to Lando holding up his hand signaling me to shut up before pulling his phone out and flipping it.

The sight made my face drop, he was currently showing me the app he has to control my vibrator setting and it was all the way up.

"Bunny, do you know how many times I turned this up tonight?" Lando tilted his head and when I didn't answer he tsked before walking closer to me "I'm not asking you again. Answer me like a good girl and I won't punish you."

"You won't?" he shook his head "I took it out at 6, I don't know how many more times you did it after"

"I turned it up 4 more times after you took it out." I felt a body against my back

"Just wait until we get home for your punishment " Oscar whispered in my ear before slapping my ass so hard I let out a little yelp

"I thought I wasn't getting punished?" I said confused

"No, I said I wasn't punishing you. I said nothing about Oscar" A cocky smirk plastered itself on Lando's insanely hot face and I watched as him and Oscar both got into Lando's McLaren.

I felt a hand on the small of my back and I turned to see Logan, he seemed to have a sympathetic look on his face "I tried to get them to come up with a different type of punishment then what you're getting but they didn't want to hear it. Don't say I didn't try to help you"

Oh god.

----

When we got back to Oscar's apartment, I almost didn't want to go in. I didn't have to have to endure the punishments they had in store for me but Oscar didn't take lightly to that and in 2 seconds flat he threw me over his shoulders and walked me to his room.

Lando had made his way to his room to get what he claimed was 'part of your punishment' while Logan closed the door to the apartment. Oscar had chucked me on the bed before yanking me to the edge of it, holding a hand on my chin forcing me to look at him in the eyes.

"Strip" was all Oscar said. I did as I was told because I already knew I was in for a long night and I didn't want to push Oscar any further.

I started slowly unbuttoning my dress shirt but Oscar didn't like that, he ripped the shirt open sending the buttons flying everywhere. I wanted to yell at him for ruining my favorite shirt but I knew there was going to be no point. When Lando and Logan walked in the room I could tell they also knew that I wouldn't be in the pubic eye for about a week after all three of them were done with me.

Logan made his way around and on the bed to be right behind me "These tits, oh my gosh. You're going to be the death of me" Logan mumbled into the crook of my neck as his hands made their way around my body to grope my chest.

"I can't wait to burry my cock in her tight little ass" Lando said as he sat on the bed beside me and started to kiss my shoulder. I let out a string of moans as I had two pairs of lips kissing and sucking on two different parts of my body

"Wanna tell me what made you so upset earlier that caused you to be bratty all day today? Hmm?" Lando said as his hand snaked its way down my stomach and under the elastic of my leggings.

"Let's take these off, yeah?" Oscar said as he yanked them off my body.

My legs instinctively opened to allow Lando more access to where I ached for him the most.

"I saw- oh my gosh Lando, please" I was cut off my Lando having inserted two digits into my pussy, thrusting them in and out while his thumb started rubbing circles on my clit.

"I believe Lando asked you a question Bunny" Oscar said as he reached his hands around my body to unclasp my bra.

His one hand immediately found my breast and started circling my nipples as Logan moved to the opposite side of him to attach his mouth to my other breast, swirling his tongue around the bud of my nipple.

"I saw people fantasize about fucking you. All of you" it sounded pathetic and hypocritical coming from me because I did the exact same thing before I got with all three of them.

"Bunny, we only have eyes for you." Lando said as he kiss the tip of my nose "But you're still getting punished" with that Lando grabbed me and yanked my body onto his, my back against his chest as he fists his cock a few times before aligning it to my asshole and thrusting up and in my tight hole. A loud cry escaped my lips before Oscars mouth found mine drowning out the noise. I felt the cushion of the bed dip before feeling a tap on my face, I opened it to see Logan cock right next to my face.

My mouth instinctively opened and took his cock in, moaning at the taste of his precum on my tongue. Logan started to thrust his cock in my mouth at a pace that had drool running down my chin in no time. The sound of me choking on Logans cock and skin to skin contact from Lando's painfully rough thrusts was all that filled the room. Oscar soon joined the party as he shoved his cock into my cunt with no warning which caused me to pull my mouth away from Logan cock to let out an unexpected screech.

"I didn't say you could stop sucking my cock, now did I?" Logan said as he gripped my face and shoved his cock back in my mouth, this time he fucked my face with so much force I thought I was fucking a different guy.

Soon enough after everyones strokes and pace matched, I knew I was one step closer to the edge and I was about to break (pls get the linkin park reference) . I felt the coil in the stomach tighten and my orgasm was finally about to wash over me tonight.

As if they all read my mind or just knew my body, the all simultaneously pulled out and left me nothing.

"No!" I cried at the empty feeling washing over my body, it all felt like sudden coldness.

"You didn't think we were letting you off the hook that easily did you?" Lando's tone mocking as he ordered "Go up against the headboard"

I did as I was told knowing there was no point in fighting them. Once I was against the board, I watched Lando as he grabbed what he went to his room for: A blindfold, rope and one singular feather.

Lando tossed the rope to Oscar who immediately started tying my wrists to the bedposts and threw the blindfold to Logan who eagerly took it out the packaging and on my face.

The room fell silent for about a minute after I was tied up, no one moved, no one talked. I felt the bed dip and the movement caused my whole body to tense, soon after I felt the feather being dragged up my thigh to my stomach before feeling it swirl around my nipples. A mix of moans, groans, and "fuck"s all left my mouth as I felt my orgasm creeping closer.

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you now, okay?" Oscar said before he aligned himself with the entrance of my cunt before sliding in with ease, his thrusts started off slow and sensual, allowing me to adjust to his size before his thrust became rough and erratic.

Oscar wasn't the only one eager to get his dick wet because I felt a thumb tap my bottom lip, signaling me to open it before I felt a cock brush past my lips. Based on his thrust in my mouth, I could tell it was Lando's cock that I was currently sucking, his pace relentless.

Oscar's hips started stuttering against my body as his thrusts slowed and I knew he was close to his orgasm. One thing about Oscar is that when he cums, he never wants to do it alone which means I'm finally about to get my release that's been eluding me all night.

Oscar abruptly pulled his cock out of me leaving me empty and orgasmless again, my disappointment didn't last long because as fast as Oscar pulled out Logan just as fast attached his mouth to my clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud bringing me close to my orgasm, which I was fully prepared to not have again.

Much to my surprise Logan didn't stop which prompted me to wrap my legs around his head making sure he couldn't go anywhere as he pushed me off the edge and I came with a loud strings of cursing and chants of 'Logan' leaving my mouth as my body shuddered and my legs squeezed around Logan head. I felt him moan against my vagina which made my body jerk upward at the vibrations.

Soon after I came down from my high, I felt a strong pair of hands yanking my legs apart before feeling Logan because torn away from my pussy.

"You shouldn't have done that Logan" Lando whispered in his ear.

------

y'all- if there's typos or a part doesn't make sense its because I'm sleepy. I wanted to put something out because I haven't in like 3 days or something like that and I felt bad.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[skitskatdacat63]

One makes him up, so the other can break him down.

This is a little terrifying but hello!! Posted my first fic on ao3!! I would've saved the illustrations for the fic's eyes only, but I'm too happy with them haha. Hope you'll still go on to read regardless!!

As always, my thoughts and progress, since I can't help myself:

I'm soooooo proud of these. I never ever really do dramatic lighting, so I'm really surprised that I pulled it off.

It's surreal actually posting this because for a while, I've thought about how if I ever post a fic, I'll have to make illustrations too because I can't do anything not full force. Look at me now! I'm shocked. Also didn't think I'd finish it tonight, but here it sits before you nevertheless(though as always, I'm writing this past my bedtime before class, time efficient as always.) So with that being said, here are some notes, though if I had known I'd be writing this so soon, I would've prepared more lol.

First of all, I hope it's clear both of these are Mark's perception. Gah, the fact that his face is the only one you can see clearly. The first is obviously him unwillingly fantasizing about what exactly went down last night.

Aghhhhh the difference in colors and settings of the two drawings is so important to me. The warmth and intimacy of the bed behind curtains in the first one, and the coldness and openess of the second. It's so clear Mark feels like he's been distanced, like he's been ousted. It's like he's been thrown outside on a cold winter's day, no longer able to feel the heat from the comfortable warm stove inside.

Mark was probably assigned to Seb bcs he has a much greater appreciation for the Spanish etiquette, which Seb has very little interest in. He'll abide by it when he absolutely has to. But he's just a very non-typical Emperor. People find it charming so it's not a public death sentence for him, but it is an issue. Thus, Mark is there to keep him in line. Though important to note that when Fernando, who has an equal if not greater respect for the showmanship of etiquette, realizes Mark is interested in that as well, they start warming up to each other.

The inherent disrespect of Fernando just. Throwing Seb's clothing onto the floor. Meanwhile he probably took like, 20 minutes folding his up(that's what Seb was gonna tell Mark at the end of the fic.) Borderline ripping off Seb's clothes only to edge him. Its not even like the ripping off the clothes is because of passion or anything, he's deliberately being an asshole. Don't worry Nandl, Seb's turned on by it!

So sorry to marknando fans if their dynamic feels like a complete 180 haha. Its not like I'm like, they actually hate each other!! It's just their relationship under completely different circumstances. They're like two dogs in a dog fight, they don't have any real reason to hate each other, but they're put against each other regardless. They don't understand their hatred, just know that they have it and that they're supposed to have it. The inherent hatred the mistress has for the spouse, and vice versa. If they actually were able to talk without barriers, they'd realize they actually get along pretty well. They kinda just hate each other because of their respective relationships to Seb. And then there's Seb who's mostly completely oblivious to his effect, though of course plays with it a bit.

Seb's marriage completely recontextualizes their relationship in Mark's eyes. Though there's something incredibly sado-masochistic about the way he can't blame Seb for it at all. He's a loyal dog after all. But when it was just them, he was obviously Seb's main companion and lover. Seb definitely slept with people on the side, but Mark brushed that off: 1. Bcs its very period typical. 2. He was the main, they were the side, what more needs to be said! But now *he's* the side piece, and is left wondering if their relationship was down to proximity alone. Not to pull a Mark and completely excuse Seb, but it's not. Just very different perceptions of love and relationships. And again, as I've mentioned before, he was raised to always be the most important person in the room, so he obviously has very different understandings, especially since he's always the center.

NANDL!!!!!! In my Habsburg book I've been reading lately, they randomly referred to one of them affectionately as "Nandl" and it's stuck in my head ever since. Can we start a movement to canonize that as an official Fernando nickname? I'm sooooo fond of it, I litrally ended the fic that way just so I could shoehorn that nickname in.

Speaking of the ending. It was really tough, I almost wanted to have Fernando burst in, looking for his ring, and then coming across whatever that is. But I didn't want to disrupt their moment anymore, it felt cruel. Though shame I couldn't mention that the reason why Seb's pants are nowhere to be found is because Fernando accidentally put them on and didn't realize till he was out of the room.

*I FORGOT TO POINT OUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Truly the danger of writing a post while falling asleep. There's something so incredibly funny to me the way they're talking so refined and then Seb just throws out: "that guy." It's a way to show his own disrespect of Fernando, not even using his name, implying he's just some guy(nur ein Kerl.) I laughed writing it cause it reminds me of the random dry humor anecdotes I've read lately.

[lvis44]

Freak Like That // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (Minors DNI), Angst, Kind of Cheating? (depends on how you look at it), Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Alcohol, Not Edited/Proofread

Word Count: 8.9k+

Summary: Seeing him again shouldn't be as hard as it is, but the universe has funny ways of making sure you end up back in his arms.

Notes: I'm aware I said this was coming like 3 weeks ago but your girl has her first corporate job that has been much more demanding week by week so I've been busy!! I toyed with turning this into more of a fic so if you're interested in a pt.2 of them LMK. Sweet Escape Epilogue is still on its way but has turned into a bit of a stand alone fic within a chapter, don't hate me, or maybe you'll love me for it. I didn't proofread this and wrote part of it while I was a tad bit drunk, oopsie! Love you all!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

It had taken everything in you to move on from Lewis. You had done everything in your power to forget him, how he felt, how good he was to you, but the thought of him always lingered. You would have been a fool to ever think that anything could ever truly happen between the two of you, you were mature enough to know it was always just sex, it would always be just sex. That didn’t mean you never fantasized about how it would feel to be loved by him. It was never a relationship between the two of you, there was never any commitment from him. He had been more of a fuck buddy, a sugar daddy in many senses. He was older than you, detached, and loved to shower you with gifts. You only ever had his attention in private, and when you did he made you see stars. Lewis had always managed to unlock something within you that you didn’t know existed, bringing alive senses you’d never felt. He taught you things about your body and needs that you had been so naive to. No one had ever been able to compare to him. Parting from him had been one of the most difficult tasks you had ever been faced with, but you knew the agreement between the two of you wasn’t sustainable, you were only ever destined for heartbreak if you continued with him. You had done so well for the last year, ignoring his texts, doing your best to avoid his heavy presence online. Him being in the same room as you however, was something that you were not prepared for. He looked ethereal, his beige suit jacket showing off just a peak of his chest, enough to force the images back into your head, his tattoos glistening above you as he wears you out. He has one braid hanging perfectly in front of his face, all you can think of is how his braids felt tickling your neck when he would pant dirty words into your sticky skin.

“Y/N? You okay darling?” The voice that came from beside you startled you. When you looked to your side, your boyfriend was looking at you with concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry about that, just zoned out for a second.” You try to fake laugh it off, not wanting him to pry.

He continues to look suspicious but doesn’t press any further, instead seamlessly transitioning into a conversation with one of the businessmen standing with him. You find your attention returning back to where Lewis had stood, his attention now fully on you. His smirk is knowing as he drags his eyes shamelessly up and down your body. You have to use every ounce of power in yourself to pull your eyes away from him as one of your boyfriends business partners directs a question to you. You put your fake smile on, engaging in boring conversation as you do your best to ignore the strong presence that is Lewis. You had been worried that one day you would run into him, your boyfriend working in the fashion industry made it almost inevitable.

You managed to stay relatively strong throughout the night, the champagne helping immensely. Lewis had disappeared into the crowd and you had done your absolute best not to look for him. You spent your evening tailing behind your boyfriend, being introduced to random men that you assumed worked in the same circles as him. Your boyfriend kept his hand on your lower back throughout most of the night, the only acknowledgement that you were even really there. He was a fine man, he had taken his time winning you over, taken you on romantic dates, but the spark still wasn’t there, and the arguments were becoming more and more frequent. You knew he cared about you, treated you well, but he was simply the safest option, and he was getting sick of your lack of interest in his work. You were growing increasingly tired of being his arm candy, using you to show off to his business partners. The intimacy lacked passion, nothing matched the raw passion you had with Lewis once upon a time. It wasn’t fair to compare him to Lewis, he was actually there to be your partner, not just a fun time, but it was almost impossible. 

“There’s only a few more people I need to talk to and then I promise we can go.” Your boyfriend whispered into your ear. You couldn’t wait to get out of your heels and be in a quiet room, away from the people faking sincerity in hopes of investments and business opportunities.

You grab another glass of champagne as your boyfriend orders an Old Fashion before once again pulling you along through the crowd of people, evidently in search of someone.

“Ah, there he is.” You hear him exclaim, not yet able to see who he’s approaching.

When you come out from behind him you want to scream, he has approached Lewis, completely unaware of the situation he has just put you in.

“It’s so fantastic to meet you, I’m Brian, we work with a lot of the same people around here. It’s an honor, I’m a big fan.” Your boyfriend extends his hand to Lewis eagerly.

You can’t help but be confused, your boyfriend has never once mentioned racing, you can only assume he’s a fan of his work in fashion, or he’s lying.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis responds politely with a small chuckle, returning the handshake before turning his attention to you, “and always wonderful to see you Y/N.”

You want to melt into the earth below you. You can see the devious look in his eyes, blatantly announcing your familiarity, you thank god your boyfriend doesn’t know the depth of familiarity you have with the man in front of you, not yet at least.

“You two know each other?” Your boyfriend asks, confusion covering his face. 

“Oh yeah, we know each other well. Y/N hasn’t told you?” Lewis continues, a wide smile across his beautiful lips. To anyone else it would look kind and genuine, but you know he’s playing at something else, daring you, challenging your boyfriend in the simplest of ways.

“No she’s never-“ Your boyfriend starts before you cut him off.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other well, we’ve just met at things like this before.” You rush out, it’s not entirely a lie, that is exactly how you first met him. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know the rest.

Lewis sends you a smirk, cocky and mischievous.

“All I can say man is you landed a very talented woman.” Lewis says to your boyfriend, the words falling off his lips in such a tone that your stomach flips.

“She is pretty incredible.” Your boyfriend smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist, completely oblivious to the meaning behind Lewis’ words. You can see out of the corner of your eye how Lewis glances down at the action, his jaw tightening momentarily.

Your boyfriend is on a mission, immediately transitioning into talking business with Lewis. You do your best not to undress him with your eyes, opting to look down at his feet throughout most of the conversation. You can feel Lewis glance at you every once in a while, trying so hard to ignore the way his gaze makes you feel. As you hear someone calling your boyfriends name you think you are finally free from the situation.

“So sorry, it sounds like I’m needed elsewhere, it was truly great meeting you, it was an honor.” Your boyfriend says to Lewis, shaking his hand once again before turning to you. You're ready to follow after him, happy to be dragged into yet another boring conversation, “Why don’t you stay here and catch up for a moment, I’ll find you later.”

He doesn’t give you even a moment to object as he presses a kiss to your temple and quickly makes his exit. You both watch as your boyfriend walks away, you in fear of the situation he’s left you in, Lewis in excitement of the exact same thing.

“Soooo,” Lewis draws out, finally looking directly at you, “how have you been?”

“Seriously?” You bite at him, unamused by his behavior.

He just shrugs, taking a sip of his drink, the glass barely hiding his amused smirk.

“What the hell was that? There’s no reason he needs to know anything.” You say, your tone low and harsh.

He just laughs, “There’s no way youre fucking that dude. I doubt that square can make you cum. Not the way I did.”

“Lewis,” You hiss at him, looking around hoping no one heard him, “he’s good to me, leave him alone.”

“So I’m right, he can’t make you cum can he.” His words come out as a statement not a question, so confident in himself, in his knowledge of your needs.

“Untrue, he’s perfectly fine, and he offers so much more than you ever did.” You throw back at him, not happy at his assessment of your relationship, he has no right to assume anything. Even if he’s partially correct.

“He might not break your heart baby, but I doubt he can break your back the way I did.” He’s gotten closer to you, his voice lower, seductive.

You can feel your breath hitch, the familiar smell of him engulfing your senses, his words going to your core unwillingly. He notices it too, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. All you can think about is how that same tongue has felt in your mouth, all over your body, inside of you, so many times. He chuckles as he watches you get lost in thought, knowing exactly where your mind has wandered.

“He’s gonna be busy for a while, we could relive some old times.” Lewis says quietly, his head gesturing back toward the hall where the bathrooms are.

“Lewis, no.” You say against your will, desperately wanting to follow him mindlessly down the hall and let him have his way with you, but you can’t let yourself do it to your boyfriend.

“Offer stands, always, ya know when you finally get sick of him.” Lewis says casually.

Within moments your boyfriend has appeared at your side once again. You worry that he’s heard something but he seems unbothered, unaware of what you were just offered.

“Vance and I are going to go grab drinks down the street, talk about the contract somewhere a little quieter.” He says to you, ignoring Lewis entirely.

You sigh, realizing just how much longer your night had just gotten, “I really just want to head back to the hotel.”

“Really? You know these meetings always go better when you’re around. You take the focus off of me.” He half complains half laughs.

“We’ve been here forever babe, I really just want to get out of my dress.” You say softly, trying to get out of the boring boys club meeting.

“You’ll be fine, besides how would you even get back to the hotel? I need to have the car take Vance and I and you’re never going to find a cab with all of this going on.” He gestures back towards that large party, his voice starting to sound annoyed.

“I’ll figure something out, I really just want to go back to the hotel, the day has been long enough as is.” You sigh, hoping he lets it go.

“C'mon babe, we’re supposed to be a team.” He continues to try to convince you. 

Never have you been part of his business ventures, only the arm candy that he  brings to meetings when he is trying to show off to someone.

“And we are, I’m just not up to staying out so late tonight.” You say, growing agitated, embarrassed that this conversation is happening in front of Lewis.

“We won’t be out late.” Your boyfriend continues to argue, “And how are you even going to get to the hotel?”

“I’ve got a car coming in just a little bit, I’ll get her back.” Lewis pipes up before you can respond, not looking at you but directing his attention to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend lets out a frustrated huff before conceding.

“That would be great, I appreciate it man.” Your boyfriend agrees without asking you, shaking Lewis’ hand.

“Anytime, don’t worry, she’ll be well taken care of.” The smile on Lewis’ face is so sweet you could almost believe he is just being polite.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even say another word to you, walking away toward his business partners after patting you on the shoulder.

“He evidently trusts you.” Lewis says, raising his eyebrow at you.

“He has absolutely no reason not to.” You fire back at him, feeling defensive.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Lewis ignores you, wiggling his now empty drink in the air. 

“I thought your car was going to be here in a second.” You say, raising an accusatory brow at him as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I said it would be here in a little bit,” Lewis starts, taking note of your eye roll at his words, “It will be fine, I’ll have you back before Prince Charming gets his drunk ass back to your room.”

“He’s not drunk.” You defend him unnecessarily, making Lewis laugh.

“If he’s getting drinks with Vance, he definitely will be by the time he’s back. Come have a drink with me, I’ve missed you.” Lewis shakes his head, evidently familiar with the man your boyfriend is getting drinks with.

“You’ve missed me?” The words come out of your mouth without meaning to, you’re genuinely surprised he’s even thought of you since you parted ways.

“Yes, of course I have,” He laughs, directing you toward the bar, “I always enjoyed myself with you. I still don’t get why you left.” His voice sounds vulnerable as he lets the last bit slip.

“You know exactly why I left.” You say, mindlessly following him to the bar against your better judgment.

“No I really don’t, you never really gave me an explanation. You just disappeared.” Lewis argues with you, keeping his voice low as he directs you onto a bar stool.

“Lewis, we both know nothing about what we were doing was sustainable. There’s no way you could have ever given me what I need.” You sigh, not wanting to have this conversation, especially not in public.

“And what is it that you need? Some guy that can’t satisfy you? You’re really trying to tell me that you’re happier with him than you were with me?” Lewis continues to push you, waving down the bartender.

“Lewis, I was never with you, and besides that, you have no idea what our relationship is like.” You defend yourself, not directly answering him.

“I think I saw enough to know that you’re not having fun.” Lewis shoots back at you, waiting for the bartender to make his way over to the two of you.

“It’s not about fun, it’s about stability.” You say, trying to stand your ground.

“You deserve both.” Lewis mumbles as the bartender appears in front of you.

Lewis orders for you, not needing to ask what you want, confident in his prior experience with you.

Your mind wanders back to the rare times that you would go out in public with him, hidden in the back corner of dive bars. The two of you getting tipsy off of shitty drinks before falling into bed together. It was rare times like those that made you fantasize about actually being in a relationship with him, dream about what your life would be like with him giggling through kisses as a permanent fixture.

“What have you been up to?” Lewis pulls you out of your thoughts, thankfully changing the subject.

“Just the usual, not much has changed.” You shrug, taking a sip of the drink in front of you.

“Descriptive,” Lewis teases you, “nothing new? How’d you meet your square?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “You really want to talk about my boyfriend?”

“I need to know what I’m up against.” Lewis shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re not up against anything because it’s not a competition.” You deadpan, annoyed with his confidence.

“Everything’s a competition babe, that’s life.” Lewis laughs, taking a sip of his drink,

You can’t help the way your stomach flips at the familiar pet name, it’s been so long since you’ve heard it fall off his lips, it came so naturally to him.

Somehow you find yourself engaged in a normal conversation with Lewis eventually, discussing his race season and other projects he’s been working on. You’ve always loved to hear him talk about the things he’s passionate about, easily getting lost in his words. You stay with him, enjoying the shockingly easy conversation, indulging in more drinks than you should. It’s not until you see him check his watch do you think about how much time has probably passed.

“So is your car here yet, or are you planning on holding me hostage?” You ask him, filling the momentary silence.

“Not used to many hostage situations that include free drinks,” Lewis laughs, “but we should probably head out front, car will be here soon.”

“Thank you for the drinks by the way.” You say quietly, sliding off your stool to follow him out of the venue.

He just smiles, no words leaving his mouth as he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you out with him. It doesn’t take long before his car is at the curb, his hand not having left your back as he urges you into the car. Despite the multiple seats available, he settles into the seat directly next to you, his thigh touching yours sending electricity through your whole body. You curse yourself for how simple it is for him to draw a reaction from you. 

“So where’s the square got you staying?” Lewis asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up.” You mumble before giving him directions that he relays to his driver.

There’s a large part of you that’s surprised he seems to actually be taking you back to your hotel, expecting him to try so much more before actually granting you your freedom. You can’t help but be slightly annoyed with your boyfriend for putting you in this position, even if he doesn’t know your history with Lewis, the rumors surrounding him should be enough to keep your girlfriend from being alone with him. Even if your boyfriend trusts you, why does he trust Lewis so much?

The drive is mostly silent. Lewis has his arm up over the back of your seat and as much as you want to fight him on it, push him away, you can’t bring yourself to do so, you enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. His body heat is intoxicating in the worst way, you can’t help but relish in the familiar feeling, so used to being cocooned in his arms. You can tell that you’re getting close to your hotel by the familiar streets, Lewis still scrolling on his phone as if he could care less that you’re sat next to him for the first time in nearly a year. Maybe he’s given up, you think. Maybe he’s finally respecting your boundaries. All of that is thrown to the wind when the car begins to slow down. He scooches even closer to you, his head dropping to your neck.

“My offer always stands, I meant it when I said I miss you.” He whispers in your ear before placing a kiss to your throat.

A small whimper leaves you involuntarily, secretly missing the way that his lips feel on your skin. You can feel a slight smirk on your skin as he pulls away, not far. His face comes up, directly in front of yours, his nose just grazing your own. Everything inside of you is screaming at you to get out of the car and not turn back, but your body is drawn toward him, he can feel it too. One large hand finds your thigh, running up the outside of it, just under the hem of your dress. You relish in the feeling of his calloused fingers on your skin for the first time in far too long. His eyes are heavy as he stares at you, hooded and darkened with lust. He leans forward just the slightest bit, ghosting his lips over yours. When you don’t pull back or fight him, he takes it as a good sign. His grip on your thigh tightens as he leans forward and properly connects your lips. The second his mouth is on yours he lets out a deep groan, one that seems to have been locked inside him for a long time. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, his tongue finding yours mindlessly. His tongue swirls against yours as his other hand comes to find the back of your head, pressing you harder against him. Your hands have a mind of their own, coming up to find the sides of his strong neck, not even thinking, you’ve been in another world since the second his lips found yours. When he finally departs you find yourself chasing his lips, making him peck yours once again.

“Come back to mine, babygirl.” He whispers, out of breath.

You let out a small whimper, your brain clouded by all of the ways you could explore him tonight, let him explore you.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, his head dropping back to your neck, “We can have so much fun babe. Everything you’ve been missing this last year, I promise.”

“Lewis, I can’t,” You just about groan, frustrated but sticking to your guns, “we’ve already crossed too many lines. I can’t do that to him.”

You try to push Lewis away but it’s worthless, his light assault on your neck is welcomed despite your words.

“Yeah, maybe we crossed a line. Why not cross some more? Hmm?” His words are spoken through kisses trailing up your neck and across your jaw, slowly making his way back towards your lips.

“Lew,” You breathe out, pushing at his chest once again, finally he disconnects from you, just barely, “I shouldn’t. I can’t, it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s really not fair is it.” Lewis shakes his head, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, a whole different meaning to his words.

“I need to go.” You whisper, moving to get out of the car.

“Hey,” Lewis stops you, a hand on your wrist, “you still have my number, let me know if you change your mind. I’m only a few blocks down.”

You offer him a small smile, not sure how to respond and not able to be in his presence any longer. You slip out of his grasp, closing the door on him as you do. You can feel the heat from where his fingers gripped you, a burning sensation on your skin. You try to shake the sensation from your body as you make your way up to your room. You can hear his car drive away in the background, having to stop yourself from turning around and going back to him. When you arrive back to your room, its empty, your boyfriend nowhere to be found, evidently still out at drinks. You sigh, flopping down onto the mattress. You want to scream. It’s so unbelievably unfair that someone can still have such a hold over you, despite having not seen him in a year. Lewis is addictive, and reintroducing an addictive substance to someone who has just barely become clean is always dangerous.

It’s a few hours before your boyfriend finally returns to the hotel. You’ve long since changed into comfier clothes and are lounging on the bed watching a random show, grateful to finally be out of your heels. When he finally arrives you can tell he’s beyond wasted, just like Lewis had predicted.

“Hey hun.” He slurs, swaying in the hallway as he tries and fails to steady himself.

“Hi,” You giggle, “have a good time with Vance?”

“Yeah,” He laughs back, “woulda had a better time if you had came along though.”

“You look like you had plenty of fun,” You raise a brow at him, “go change and come to bed.”

“I just don’t get why you didn’t want to come, honestly I would have closed that deal so much quicker” He says as he goes into the bathroom 

“I told you I wanted to get back to the hotel, I was tired.” You sigh

“Not too tired to hang out with Lewis Hamilton.” You can hear the anger in his voice and it makes you want to laugh.

“Really? You’re the one who told me to stay and hang out with him, not only that but you trusted him to take me home. How is that my fault?” You’re already annoyed as the words leave your mouth, already frustrated beyond belief in so many ways.

“Jesus Y/N, if I knew getting drinks would put you in such a mood maybe I would have come home sooner.” Your boyfriend says from the bathroom.

You have no idea where his sudden attitude has come from, you refusing going to drinks should not have put him in such a mood.

“I’m not in a mood, I just don’t appreciate you implying that I turned you down just to hang out with Lewis.” You argue as he exits the bathroom, his shirt now off, just in his suit pants.

“I know you didn’t leave that gala for quite some fucking time.” He spits at you drunkenly.

“What are you even talking about?” You ask him, confused how he even knows, not that it should even be an issue.

“You were too tired to come get drinks with me to help me with an important investor but you can stay and have drinks with Lewis Hamilton for another hour?” He accuses you, not taking into account that it’s partially his fault.

“We were waiting for his car so we got a drink,” You defend, “and how do you even know how long we were there?”

“People know you're my girl Y/N. Apparently people find it a bit strange when they see my girlfriend drinking at the bar with one of the most notorious playboys in the game.” His voice is slowly getting louder, putting you even more on edge.

“Oh so you have people keeping tabs on me now?” You question him.

“I don’t need to ask, they just do it. It’s embarrassing Y/N. I don’t need people thinking that my girlfriend is out fucking athletes.” He throws at you, rolling your eyes.

“All that should matter is that you know!” You yell at him.

“Do I?” His voice is laced with venom, a sudden distrust that you’ve never seen from him before.

“Well you certainly fucking should.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“How do you know him?” He ignores your argument, taking a step closer to you.

“I told you.” 

“Yeah you told me how you met him, sure. How do you actually know him, because you seemed to be pretty fucking close.” He fires at you.

Your anger has reached a peak, not wanting to deal with your boyfriends drunken anger, you let the walls down.

“You really want to know how familiar I am with him? Hmm?” You challenge him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, he fucked me for a year straight. Best I ever had.” You shrug, your voice venomous. You have let all of your cares slip away.

“Excuse me?” Your boyfriend is seething, your last comment sticking with him.

“You heard me.” You say, your voice eerily calm. 

“You say that and then expect me to believe you didn’t fuck him tonight? How stupid do you think I am?” He sounds almost amused as he asks the question.

“I could have, oh god I could have, I was this close,” You hold up your fingers to emphasize your point, “but I didn’t. Ya know why? Because I’m in a relationship, I fucking you! I couldn’t do that to you. Yet here you are accusing me of going behind your back. You left me alone with him, you let him take me back to the hotel. Why? So you could prove a point about what you think of me?”

“If you were so close to fucking him, why don’t you go do exactly that?” Your boyfriend just about screams at you.

You’ve never had a fight of this magnitude, especially over something like this. Hearing his distrust and anger makes you rethink everything about him. Your mother always told you that drunk words are sober thoughts and you can’t help but feel that in this moment. In that moment you give up, why even try to convince him to trust you, if he thinks you’re going to cheat on him now why would he ever think differently.

“Fine.” You shrug, your voice calm.

“Seriously?” He’s taken aback, clearly not thinking you would act on it.

“You obviously don’t trust me so why not.” You say, not looking at him as you gather your things. You have no real plan about where you’re going to go, sure you are leaving things behind but not caring, just needing to get out of the room and away from his vile behavior.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re literally proving my point right now, you’ll fuck anyone who gives you attention. I thought I had managed to tame that shit in you.” He spits, watching you pack your things.

“Tame me?” You whip around at his words, “First of all, I’m not a fucking zoo animal. Second of all, if you’ve never trusted me why the fuck are you even here?”

“Jesus, I thought you could be better, you had so much fucking potential.” He sounds remorseful and it makes you want to scream. How dare he think you needed fixing.

“Fuck you, I’m done.” You say, your things finally zipped in your bag as you put on your shoes. 

He’s still yelling things at you as you make your way out of the room, not caring to stick around to hear what other awful things he has to say to you. You don’t properly breathe until you’re in the elevator, finally sure he’s not following you. That’s when you realize you don’t have anywhere to go, a lump forming in your throat as you think of everything that was said. Mindlessly you take out your phone, hesitating for a moment as you look at Lewis’ number, blocked for so long. You unblock him as you step out of the elevator and into the lobby, walking out to the street as you call his number, praying he’s not asleep. Going to him is probably the last thing you should be realistically doing, but he’s the only person you want to see right now.

“Hey stranger, I knew you’d end up calling.” His voice is cocky through the phone, you can hear his smirk.

“Lew.” You croak out, your tears finally coming to the front.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his tone changing drastically, immediately aware that something isn’t right. 

“You said you were staying nearby, can I come over?” You almost want to laugh at how desperate you sound.

“Of course, I’ll send you a car. Are you still at the hotel?” His voice is laced with concern and care and it makes your tears fall harder. It’s ridiculous that someone who had never been emotionally available could care for you more than your boyfriend.

“I’ll walk, just tell me where you are.” You shake your head as if he can see you.

“Y/N, it’s too late for you to be out walking alone, I’d be worried the whole time. Let me send you a car.” He argues.

“I need the fresh air honestly, just tell me where to go. Please.” Your voice breaks at the end of your plea, convincing him not to argue with you more, he can tell he won’t win.

Against his better judgment he finally tells you where he is, offering to stay on the phone with you while you walk. You’re tempted to take him up on it but you need the time to yourself. You’re still not sure why you feel such a desperate need to see him but it’s all you can think of at the moment.

The walk helps your head immensely, your agony switching to anger. Part of you wishes you had just gone back with Lewis when he offered, you would have proved your boyfriend right and still had a good night. If he doesn’t trust you, why be good for him?

When you arrive at Lewis’ hotel, he’s waiting in the door to his suite for you, his suit from earlier still on. He immediately takes note of your scowl and bag, his eyebrows raising. He doesn’t say a word as he steps aside to let you enter the room.

“That fucking asshole.” You say, dropping your bag as you finally turn to face a very concerned Lewis.

“What happened?” He asks you, cautiously approaching you.

“He doesn’t trust me! I could have come here and fucked you hours ago, but no, I stayed in his room and waited for his drunk ass to get back like a good little housewife. What do I get when he gets back? Accused of fucking you.” You let out in one big breath.

Lewis’ eyes widen, a slightly amused look on his face underneath the concern.

“So he accused you of cheating on him?” He questions, still trying to fully figure out what he’s dealing with.

“Oh not only that, he said he thought that he had tamed me, told me I embarrassed him.” You let out a bitter laugh.

“So he’s a square and a dumbass.” Lewis states with a cock of his head, frowning.

“Oh fuck you.” You spit at him.

“I’m just saying, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” He says softly, approaching you to put his hands on your arms gently, rubbing up and down softly in hopes of calming you somehow.

The gentle action makes you want to cry again, fall into him and never let him go. As if he can tell, he pulls you into his chest, holding you tight. You wrap your arms around his neck. You let yourself revel in the feeling of being in his arms, holding you so tight you almost can’t breathe, but you welcome it, you’ve missed it for so long.

“So why are you here baby, to piss him off?” Lewis asks quietly, loosening his grip on you slightly to get you to look at him.

“I don’t even know, I think I just wanted you.” You sigh, embarrassed by how needy you sound.

He smirks, pleased in the knowledge that you may want him in any way shape or form.

“Why the hell are you still dressed up?” You suddenly ask him, confused by how much time has passed since he left the event.

“Had an after party I had to go to, just got back a little while ago.” He shrugs, his arms still wrapped around you.

“So why the hell were you trying to get me to come back with you if you had things you had to do?” You question him.

“If there was any chance in hell you would come back with me I was blowing that party off in a heartbeat, don’t care if I pissed anyone off. Haven’t seen you in ages, couldn’t let the chance slip.” He explains, looking you dead in the eye.

The thought that he would have rather spent his night with you than going out and networking makes your heart clench, it’s something your own boyfriend never would have done, evidently. His admission makes you throw caution to the wind, missing the feeling of being wanted, you pull the back of his neck so you can connect your lips to his. He seems almost surprised for a moment, not expecting anything to happen due to the state you had arrived in. He only hesitates for a moment before responding with full force, his lips fully claiming yours like they’ll never touch another set.

He groans into the kiss, the sound going to your core immediately, its always been one of your favorite sounds. You take your hands from around his neck, pawing at the button of his jacket, desperate to feel the smooth skin and hard muscle he has hidden underneath. The second his jacket is open, running your hands up his torso, reveling in the strength, your lips never parting from his. He pulls back slightly, a cocky smirk spread across his swollen lips, his hands firmly on your backside.

“What do you want, baby?” He questions, his tone knowing.

You whimper in response, trying to catch his lips again as you work to push the jacket off his shoulders.

“Words Y/N, you know that.” He reprimands you even though he is reaching behind himself to pull his jacket off, throwing it over the nearby chair.

“Fuck, I want you, please.” You whine out, annoyed you even have to ask. 

His hands come back to your ass, taking greedy handfuls as his lips drop to your neck, brushing over the skin as he speaks, “You want me to show you what you’ve been missing out on? Remind you how good I can make you feel?”

All you can do is nod as you brace yourself on his large biceps, a panted ‘yes’ falling from your lips. Within seconds his hands have fallen to your thighs, scooping you up to walk you towards the bed in the large suite. He drops you down on the bed, letting you bounce as he stares down at you with hungry eyes. The mood has shifted so drastically since you arrived, the whiplash is making your brain spin. Within moments he’s on you again, his lips hungry against yours as his large hand trails up under your sweatshirt. You wished you were wearing something cuter but the feeling of his hands on you threw every thought out the window. As his lips trailed down your neck you explored every inch of his muscular back under your palms, feeling the way the muscles flexed every time he adjusted his position. Wordlessly your sweatshirt was thrown up and over your head before his lips attached to your bare breast. The moan you let out was something you didn’t recognize from yourself anymore, a sound you hadn’t made since the last time you had him.

Over the course of your relationship with your boyfriend, sex had become more of a chore, something you knew you needed to do to keep the relationship working, it obviously didn't work. Your boyfriend tended to rush through things, chasing his own high with yours as more of an afterthought. Lewis however, he took his time with you, he always had, he would never be done until you were absolutely wrecked beneath him.

Lewis’s lips were trailing down your body, his tongue tracing every inch of skin it could reach. Hot, wet, sloppy kisses being left against every dip and curve of your figure. When he reached the waistline of your sweatpants, his eyes flicked up for a moment, locking with yours. There was a faint question in them and all you could do was nod, bucking your hips up towards him, urging him to take them off. 

“So eager.” Lewis just about chuckles, pulling down your pants and thong in one move.

You can’t help but squirm when his eyes lock onto your heat, staring at you like he’s going to destroy you. His large hand splays across your bare waist, keeping you in place as his other holds one of your thighs out to the side.

“Patience babe, don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.” His voice is teasing but you can hear the tension behind his words, he’s just as worked up as you are, the evidence is visible in his dress pants.

He leans down, pressing soft kisses along your hip, making his way further down slowly, much too slow for your liking.

“Lewis, please.” You whimper, hoping he will speed up the process and ease the ache between your legs.

He smirks, locking his eyes with yours as he latches his lips around your clit with no warning. You shriek, the sound turning into a guttural moan as his tongue laps over your nerves. You can feel the stubble of his beard on the inside of your thigh, his eyes still have left your face. You can feel the cocky smirk that spreads across his face as he lowers his face, lapping at your drenched entrance.

“Fuck baby, you really needed this didnt you?” He taunts you, breathless.

All you can do is whine his name as his skilled mouth returns to your core.

“God I missed you, always taste so fucking good.” He murmurs against you.

His tongue makes his way inside of you as his thumb comes to rub at your clit, making your back arch. Finally having him inside of you feels so good, but you need so much more and he knows it.

He pulls his mouth away, his thumb still tracing patterns across your nerves.

“Need you to come for me babygirl, could feel you clenching around my tongue, I know you’re close.” He’s out of breath and when you finally look at him you can see your arousal glistening on his lips.

You writhe on the bed as he presses a finger against your entrance, teasing the slightest bit of pressure before inserting the thick digit deep inside of you. His tongue comes down to replace his thumb against your clit as he slips another finger inside of you, massaging the spongy spot inside of you just right that you scream. The sound rips out of your body coming from deep in your throat as your pleasure courses through you. You can feel yourself soaking Lewis as he laps up your release, humming contentedly, like youre the best meal he’s ever had. You barely have the ability to push him away, too sensitive and he knows it, that cocky smirk plastered across his face as he finally sits back. You barely even register that he’s moved back over you until you feel his fingers on your bottom lip, your own pleasure covering them.

“Open up babygirl, need you to taste just how amazing you are.” His voice is soft yet strained as you let his fingers slip past your lips, swirling your tongue around them. He lets out a soft groan, his eyes locked on your mouth as you put on a little show for him, still half delirious. 

When he finally slips his fingers from your lips he trails them down your chin and across your chest, leaving a trail of moisture that makes you shiver.

“Think you can take more? Hmm?” His lips are near your ear, you can feel the hot air of his voice against your humid skin.

“Please, god please.” You beg him, desperate to feel him again after so long.

“Been dying to be inside of you since the second I saw you tonight.” He admits into the skin of your neck as he works on the button of his dress pants. You attempt to help but its useless, you’re a useless pile of mush at this point.

He moves himself to stand at the end of the bed, finally kicking off his pants before grasping himself in his large palm. Your lips part inadvertently at the sight in front of you. His bare chest is glistening with sweat, making his tattoos that much darker and showing off the prominent shape of his pecs, his tattooed bicep is flexing ever so slightly as he slowly strokes himself, his eyes wandering over your naked body. When you finally trail your eyes down, your breath hitches in your throat. You’ve been with him countless times, but nothing can ever prepare you for just how thick he is, just how long he is. He has a cock that most men would pay to have and he knows it. He notices your staring, one side of his mouth curving into a knowing smirk. You’re sitting up, crawling towards him mindlessly, desperately trying to get your hands on him. You don’t even have time to properly register it when all the sudden you're being picked up like a rag doll and maneuvered onto all fours in front of him. You’re not even sure how he did it, his strength and your delirium making everything happen so fast. Within moments you feel his body pressed up behind yours, his mouth coming down next to your cheek.

“Gonna make sure my girl knows that no one will ever make her come like I do, gonna have you screaming my name baby.” He whispers, his voice sounding like pure sex. Your stomach clenches when he calls you his girl.

You feel him lining himself up with your entrance and all you can do is whimper into the pillow below you. With one hand grasped around his cock and the other a bruising grip on your hip, he takes a second to tease you, giving you the slightest pressure at your aching hole before slipping out and thrusting forward to nudge your clit. He’s leaving you a whining mess before he’s even inside of you and he’s absolutely loving it. He stills momentarily, lined up with you again before thrusting into you all at once. The force makes all the air leave your lungs as you slump even further forward. You hear a loud groan leave his chest and you wish you could see him, see the ecstasy across his face. His large palm soothes down your spine before pushing down, making you arch your hips up toward him even more. He barely gives you a moment before he’s rocking his hips, your body still working to accommodate the size its gone so long without.

“Good girl, you can take it.” His voice is low, demanding yet endearing. He’s the one that taught you about your praise kink, always so vocal about how good you make him feel.

His pace slowly starts to build, his thrusts becoming harsher as he keeps pressure on your back, keeping you just how he wants you. You can feel yourself getting even wetter as you listen to the moans leaving his body, your own sounds being nothing but gasps and whines. He’s hitting the perfect spot, over and over, and you can feel your stomach start to tighten. Rarely have partners even been able to make you come with just penetration, but everything is different with Lewis, it always has been.

“Fuck, already?” Lewis asks, his voice sounding almost amazed from behind you, “Fuck babe, I can feel you clenching my cock already, you gonna come again? Gonna fucking soak me like a good girl?”

His pace picks up, determination behind each thrust as his grip on your hips becomes even tighter. His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge again, the sound of pure sex. He groans loudly as he feels you come around him, working you through it but collapsing over you. He lets your hips go and you're dropping down flat on the mattress as he continues to pound into you from above. You can hear the slick sounds of him fucking into you and it makes everything so much dirtier. You’re moaning his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever learned.

“That’s it baby, just like that.” He coaxes you through a groan.

He doesn’t let up, the new angle making your toes curl as his weight bares down on you. He has one hand on your hip once again while he leans on his forearm next to you. You feel him start to move himself up, hooking your legs over his hips, your back bending backwards for him. He slows his pace ever so slightly, adding more force behind every thrust, making you squeal and grab at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, Lewis, I can’t, I-“ You whimper, too sensitive and too fucked out to properly string a sentence together.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can, go ahead and give me one more.” He soothes you, slapping your ass in contradiction to his kind tone.

You blindly reach your hand out behind you, wanting something to ground yourself on. He grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze before pulling out of you entirely. The sudden loss of contact leaves you confused before he’s flipping you onto your back, spreading your legs and sliding home once more. This time he grabs both of your hands, lacing your fingers with his as he braces them next to your head. His pace is still slow but unforgiving. His pupils are blown out and hooded as his eyes bore down into your own that are now teary.

“I got you, m’right here, let go, I know you can.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s trying to hold his own release off, desperate to feel you come again.

His lips attach to yours, sloppy and wet as he sucks on your tongue. One of his hands lets go of yours as he trails down to your cores, gently flicking at your nerves to feel you clench before settling on a relentless speed that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Say my name baby, tell me who’s making you feel this good.” His tone is possessive and cocky as he pulls away to stare at you, obsessed with your face as you climax.

You scream his name as your orgasm washes over you, feeling like a tidal wave that has washed away anything but him and the ecstasy youre floating in. You hear him let out a deep guttural groan as his hips falter, trying so hard to fuck you through your own climax but the feeling of you squeezing around him is too much. You feel like you're floating when you feel him twitch inside of you, coming for longer than he ever has with you. You revel in it as he collapses down onto you, a comfortable crushing feeling that makes you never want to leave the bed.

You’re not sure how long you laid there, letting him pepper your neck with sloppy kisses as you tried to stroke his sweaty back, your efforts not the most successful as you felt like jello. You could feel the comforting feeling of him softening inside of you, still so big. You still didn’t feel like you were inside your own body when he finally pulled out and cleaned you up. It wasn’t until he was turning off the light and climbing into bed next to you, still naked, that you really felt human again. As he pulled you into his chest you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, knowing there was no good way for this to end. You were silent, nuzzling into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as possible.

“For the record, I meant what I said, no man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed by you.” Lewis says, tightening his arm around your waist.

You don’t respond, just press a kiss to his chest, enjoying the scent of him.

“I should know, I fumbled you pretty fucking hard.” He continues, much to your surprise.

You lift your head to look at him, shock written across your face.

“I’ve missed you.” He says, staring into your eyes in the dark room.

“I’ve missed you too.” You admit, laying your head back down to rest on his chest.

“I’ve got some other events to go to this week, come with me.” His words sound less like a question and more of a statement.

“Excuse me?” You look at him again, once again surprised.

“Come with me and let me show you off how you should be. I fucked up once, not doing it again.” His words are confident, sure of himself in every way.

You’re not sure how to respond, elated by the fact that this is exactly what you’ve wanted for so long, and terrified by the same thing. Words don’t come to you, all you can do is stretch up to kiss him, your mouths frantic against each others. His arm tightens around your waist as he pulls you up to lay on top of him, your legs falling around his waist. You kiss him mindlessly, brain dead at the feeling of his lips.

“Like I said, my girls gotta be taken care of.” He says against your lips as he moves you to slip himself inside of you once more.

As you slide down onto him once more, feeling him fill your heart and your core, you know no one else will ever be good enough for either of you again.

[megamindsecretlair]

WIP Tuesday

Buckle up babes, it's going to be a long post!

I come before you humble, hat in hand. I know I been wilding ya'll. I know there's a lot of fics I need to update and get back to. I haven't forgotten! And since there are...so many new people thanks to my Terry fics, what a great time to call myself out chuz ya'll too nice to do so! I saw @nerdieforpedro do this a few weeks ago? Forgive me for not tagging the person you got it from, but I am tiredt, chilleee.

Current focus: Terry got my whole heart, ya'll. Every fic I read of him, I just want to go hop in the booth myself and get to writing. Ya'll inspire me every damn day, it's magical. There is a filthy, disgusting, mean, despicable fic I wanna write with him. But alas, he is not the only one I write for.

Girl, there's how many series????? Listen, the muse wants what it wants. 11 series in total. Chillee, why I do dissssss. Some are closer to finishing than others. So let's count them out (click the links to learn more):

Be My Little Darling - Loki series | It Started With a Whisper - Sam Wilson series | Midnight Sin - Vampire Tyrone series | Blackbird - Mob Boss Fontaine | Camp Wanderlust - Franklin Saint series | What You Deserve - Homewrecker Stunna | Runaway Lover - Professor Stunna | If I Took You Home - Kevin Atwater | Kill Her Softly - Zyair Malloy | A Taste of the Divine - Yakuza Sukuna | We Are the Night - Qimir

Frenn, that's a lot, do you sleep? Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help. I'm promise I'm good ya'll, I just love writing and I love interacting with ya'll. You have NO idea how much each and every single one of ya'll mean to me. I love the support, I love the comments, I love the reblogs. I'm trying not to disappoint folks, I was on a schedule and well, life happened. I can course correct, I promise. Just gon' take me a little minute. Let me close the smaller series first!

Okay, surely that's it right, frenn? Ahh no, because there's also the asks that have been piling up. Per my pinned post, you know that I have a scatterbrain. Some asks I deleted because they're too similar to what I've done before. Some I'm still trying to picture before I start writing. But the ones I've kept? At last tally it is...33. Some are similar and I'm going to combine them, but yeahhhhh. This isn't a callout post, keep sending those requests in! Just know it's gonna take me a smoooooooth minute. Also, welcome new people, welcome! But not everything needs a part two, I promise. If I write "The End" at the bottom, that truly means the end. No part 2 planned, ain't trynna write a part two. I want to move on sometimes. I love you, but I'll be writing until I'm gray if everything got a part 2. And I wanna get paid for my writing. Which brings me tooo...

Umm, umm, what's this I hear about a book??? Yes! I am actually writing a book based on an ask I received. It was a sweet ask about what kind of story would go with "Handwritten Letter". I said it gave friends to lovers, she fell first, he fell harder type of vibes. It has morphed into dark academia about a shy girl just trying to come into her own. It's a combo of and a love letter about girls like me, girls like you, each and every person who identifies as a Soft Black Girl. And I already have *so* many ideas about other books I want to do. There will be one based on the Mr. Black series I wrote. There will also be a vampire one! I just can't decide yet which will be the second book I put out. I'm leaning towards vampire because Terry is HEAVY on the brain ya'll. And he'd make a sexy vamp. But anywhooo...

I say all this to say that I'm not a machine. I'm not that quick despite appearances. I may not seem like I have any chill, but I've been fantasizing and turning over these fics in my head for days or weeks before I sit down to write. And I'm not saying to stop. Your support is exactly why I feel good enough about my writing to sit and write an entire book! I want to be a full time author. I want to share my ideas with the world. I'm just slow lmfaoooooo.

In the mean time, I hope you're hitting up all these amazing writers on here. I hope you're commenting and reblogging and showing love on here. I will keep saying it. This site will DIE and these BLACK writers will LEAVE if people keep stealing, not commenting, not reblogging, asking for part 2s and never showing love. Fandom is a community, not a pillar. No one know it's you behind that avatar, go crazy! Go nuts. Show nuts. whatever.

Love, love, love you all. If you read this far, drop something funny in the comments. Or go unhinged in my asks about Terry. Don't get me started about that man, but go awff about him because that's my baby favaaa.

no pressure tags: @chaos-4baby @j0kers-light @umber-cinders @harmshake @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @soft-persephone

[charmandabear]

Office Hours: it's so easy to bite with your hands pinned (2/16)

Pairing: Astarion/Named f!Tav Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.4k Chapter tags/warnings: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v intercourse, blood/blood drinking, creampie/no breeding (full list on ao3)

Summary:

After fantasizing about it, Rosalind can't stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ancunín. Maybe Shadowheart is right, maybe she should just do it to get it out of her system.

Yayyyyyy chapter 2! I've been absolutely going through it personally, but your comments and kind words have brought me such joy. My goal will continue to be to upload Sunday/Monday so if I miss a day, I give you full permission to yell at me. (But please be nice, I'm very sensitive.)

Next chapter ~ Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist Office Hours playlist on Spotify

“Shadowheart, I think I fucked up.”

Rosalind picks at the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup as Shadowheart grabs her latte from the counter. Her best friend’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she fixes Rosalind with a cautious look. They had met six years ago while moving into adjacent apartments. Shadowheart was already working at BGU in the Divinity School, and a few years back she helped Rosalind get an interview with Volo in the theatre department.

“Do I need to kill someone or help you bury the body?” she says with a sly smile, and Rosalind groans, almost too ashamed to admit it. She has complained far too much about Ancunín for what happened last night not to be exceedingly embarrassing.

“No, not that,” she begins, then takes a sip of coffee to brace herself. “You know that snotty Renaissance Lit professor I’ve mentioned?” They tap their phones on the turnstile censor and file through one at a time.

“Yeah, the one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart looks over her shoulder as she asks the question, and she’s treated to Rosalind’s dramatic eye roll.

“I’m not always going on about him,” she grumbles, and Shadowheart’s laugh reverberates off the metro walls.

“You absolutely are, but continue,” she smirks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Okay well let me at least show you what he looks like before I lose service,” Rosalind preemptively defends herself, pulling out her phone and searching for the BGU English department faculty page. She scrolls down to Ancunín’s portrait and turns the screen towards Shadowheart.

It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. Suddenly she gasps and looks at her friend with wide eyes. “Rosalind, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t!” Rosalind shouts, perfectly scandalized. Then, in a much lower voice that ultimately gets drowned out by the roar of a train flying by, she says, “I just thought about it.”

“What?” Shadowheart shouts, pulling her scarf in a little closer to protect herself from the wind cast off by the train.

“I just thought about it!” Rosalind shouts back, wishing she had just waited to speak.

“Thought about what?”

“Fucking him!” Of course, she shouts this last bit just as the train has fully passed, which means everyone else waiting on the platform hears her clear as day. Rosalind hides her flushed face behind her cup, praying that no one from the school is also taking the metro today.

“And?” Shadowheart looks at Rosalind expectantly.

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Rosalind scoffs and looks down the tunnel at the train’s headlights in the distance in order to avoid answering her question for a second longer. “I mean, it was my imagination, so like good I guess?”

“Well sure, but would you want to do it in real life?” As Shadowheart answers, the train comes to a screeching stop and the two of them board, snagging a two-seater as far away from both entrances as possible. Shadowheart pinches her knees together and places her bag delicately on her lap.

Rosalind sighs heavily before answering. “Man, I dunno. I’ve never really been into the idea of hate sex, at least not since Aradin.”

Shadowheart makes a face of abject disgust. “He doesn’t even know how lucky he is that I’ve never been in the same room as him.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more appreciative of having someone so eager to commit murder for me,” Rosalind laughs, putting her hand on Shadowheart’s knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Rosalind looks out the window at the other platforms whizzing by. 

“I think you should go for it,” Shadowheart says suddenly, and Rosalind chokes on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” she coughs as she wipes her mouth.

“What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you can just go back to hating him like before, and at least then you won’t need to wonder anymore,” Shadowheart says matter-of-factly. She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described the literal nightmare scenario.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” Rosalind gapes at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” Shadowheart flashes a coffee-stained grin and Rosalind pushes her face away.

“Maybe not, he could be terrible for all we know,” she replies smugly as the train slides into the University stop. They funnel out with the hoard of students and other professors who also get out onto the platform. “Man, Shade, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” Rosalind teases her as they trash their empty coffee cups.

“Listen, you’re closer to getting some than I’ve been in months, it’s not that good out here for most of us,” she groans.

“Hey, if I end up getting lucky, maybe he’s got some pretty colleague he can hook you up with,” Rosalind says with a shit-eating grin and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

Rosalind and Shadowheart split ways in front of the student union, each of them heading to their respective sides of campus. Rosalind goes directly to her office and immediately closes the door — usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary today. She can’t look at his face right now. She can’t possibly look him in the eye.

She spends the majority of the day locked in her office, double checking the hallway before leaving to teach Voice and Speech. She even avoids the main office for fear of running into him there. 

When 5:00 rolls around, she takes a peek outside her door to see most of the other professors leaving. To play it safe, she decides to work until six so she can be absolutely sure he’s gone by the time she leaves. She passes the time by absentmindedly grading weekly reflections. It’s only when she realizes that she’s read one paragraph about Miss Julie about a half dozen times, she figures it’s time to leave.

She pokes her head into the hallway, but can’t tell from this angle whether or not his door is closed. She grabs her bag and coat, takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the stairs. It’s only when she approaches his office door that she realizes it’s open. 

Fuck.

It’s fine. She can just walk past it and get to the stairs and then she won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice her walk by. It’s fine. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears nonetheless.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as Rosalind passes his door. Are you fucking kidding me? She turns to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even bother looking up at her. Prick.

“Yes?” she asks coldly, not budging from her spot in the hall. He glances up and looks at her over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. Rosalind wants to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

Rosalind takes a tentative step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s somehow warm and inviting. She can barely see the walls from being covered corner to corner in overfull bookshelves. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room — significantly nicer than the university-issued ones. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it, honestly. Two chairs face his desk, but they’re covered in a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave like the ones in Rosalind’s office. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea. 

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. Rosalind stands still, clutching her bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes she’s not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. She can feel the heat in her cheeks rising. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels her to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk. He leans casually on the edge of it, facing her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Rosalind watches him carefully, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Rosalind blinks at him, the conversation immediately not going in the direction she expected. She still feels so much shame about last night that it takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

He sees the gears turning in her brain and decides to continue. “It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leans back on his hands, stretching out his lithe figure to impossible proportions. Rosalind’s grip on her bag slackens and she can’t help but drag her gaze over the length of his body. He looks back at her quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses. Now it’s his turn to give the once-over, and Rosalind feels practically naked before him with the way he leers at her. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward her, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. She retreats while holding his gaze until her back is flush against the door. 

No escape now.

He gets precariously close and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s at least a half foot taller than Rosalind, and he looks down on her with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in her face has fully reached the tips of her ears now, and her breath comes out ragged. 

“I’m sure I—” she begins, but it comes out thick and raspy. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” she finally manages with all of the composure she can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t drastically increased in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into her. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter escapes Rosalind as she presses her thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let her respond. 

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my piece and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. He’s giving me an out, she realizes. He’s saying that we can both laugh at this as an embarrassing moment and never bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand… Rosalind thinks back on her conversation with Shadowheart and swallows thickly.

“You’re not mistaken,” she manages to choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts her chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command makes Rosalind’s knees go weak and she withers under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” she says more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time she notices two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains why he could track Rosalind’s heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating. 

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing her roughly, hands twisting in her hair and one knee sliding up between her legs. He pushes her against the door, lifting her up onto her toes. She’s desperate just to keep up as he devours her, her hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment she lets him take her.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away as they both breathe heavily, air cycling between their lungs. Rosalind’s head is full of a thick fog and she can’t see straight. His hands are still in her hair, tight but not pulling — yet. Why do I get the sense that might not last long?

He drops to his knees and she nearly doubles over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of her black denim skirt, inhaling again. Her fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from her fantasy. At this point she’s just trying not to collapse. 

He looks up at her, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up her skirt and his thumb runs across her pussy, barricaded by sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” She bites her lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of her tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, she can’t stop the cry from escaping her throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in her ears. Her knees buckle and he grabs hold of her hips, hiking up her skirt to get better access to her dripping cunt. He presses a finger past her panties and slips it into her, and she gasps at the stark temperature difference. 

“Gods, fuck,” she groans under her breath, and she runs a hand through her hair as her head drops back against the door. He presses his nose into the flesh of her lower belly, licking and kissing it as he slides in a second finger into her. She can feel her legs beginning to shake as he pumps into her, stretching her out. She grasps the handle of the door trying to brace herself on something. When her hips begin to subconsciously roll against his hand, he yanks his fingers out and she whines at the sudden emptiness. 

“Someone’s needy,” he sings as he stands before sucking her arousal off his fingers. He pulls her into another searing kiss and the taste of her lingers on his lips. He grabs her ass and digs his fingers into her flesh, spreading her cheeks until she gasps into the kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up her legs and wraps them around his waist. She yelps in surprise; he’s significantly stronger than he looks.

He carries her over to that incredible mahogany desk, plopping her down on the hardwood and sending books and papers tumbling to the floor. He presses his bulge into her mound, this time the sound of both of their groans mingling pleasingly. He tears at her chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down her chest as she throws her head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing her top, though she’s certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. She can hardly bring herself to care as she paws wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of her. He pulls down the lace cup of her bra with his teeth and starts sucking on her nipple, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She arches into him, his hands working her like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that she pictured last night. Instead, Rosalind has been reduced to shambles, begging for his satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” she stutters, and those devilish eyes lock onto hers again. He snakes his way back up her chest and bites her lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks her stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against her. She squirms, trying to pull him closer but he’s got her arms locked in his grip. His lips leave hers and ghost over the flesh of her neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across her jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from her in return. By all the gods, Rosalind hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement makes it clear that he won’t bite unless she wants him to.

But holy hells does she want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” she gasps, and she’s almost certain she can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get inside me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to her, but she’s well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves her panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into her simultaneously, drawing out her cry of both pain and pleasure. She wraps her legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. She feels his mouth filling up with hot blood just as her cunt fills up with his dick. 

His pumps are slow, taking his time as he swallows gulps of her blood. The obscene slurping noise mixed with his heavy breathing and occasional grunts that tickle her ear send her reeling. She’s always had a sensitive neck and more than enjoys the occasional hickey. But this is a whole new level of pain mixed with pleasure. His lips grow warm with her blood and she bucks against him, her whines getting swallowed by his curls. Her hands cup his ears, and she’s unable to stop herself from playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from her neck, looking absolutely feral with her blood dripping down his chin, which only sets her off more. 

“Please, I-I need more,” she whimpers breathlessly, angling her hips towards him and trying to get him to thrust faster.

“You eager little thing,” he growls, and the animalistic sound pulls another desperate whine from deep within her. He pushes her back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath her knee high boots, pressing her thighs against her chest. He begins to pound into her properly, sending her hurtling towards climax. She grabs onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching her out as he keeps her feet up by his shoulders. The heat begins to mount in her core and she knows it won’t be long before she comes. But at this point she’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m—” She finishes before her sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks her body, if anything, he fucks into her harder. Just as she’s barely come down from her climax, he pulls out and yanks her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from her back. He pushes her skirt up to her hips and grabs a hold of her ass, his nails digging into the part of the tights still in-tact. He slides into her again with a groan, and already she can tell that she’s working her way up to a second one. Her bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs her hair, pulling her head up and arching her back into him. 

She desperately wishes that she could see his face because she can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. She tries to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on her hair remains tight. But even if she can’t see him, she can still hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in her is enough, and her own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism. 

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and she can feel his climax, setting off a second for her. The throbbing of his cock matches that in her cunt, and she holds onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over her. Once the ripples have settled he pulls out, and she can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down her leg. She silently says a thankful prayer for her IUD.

They’re both panting as he collapses onto her back, planting a half-hearted kiss on her spine. She weakly pushes herself up off the desk and sees the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. She turns around to relish in his appearance. Her blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. She reaches up and wipes the remainder of her blood off his chin. He smirks and gives her a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

“That was good,” she murmurs through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[rosanna-writer]

Out of the Woods (2/3)

An AU that diverges from canon after Rhysand leaves a head spiked in the garden. Aware of the unsnapped mating bond and unwilling to get between another High Lord and his mate, Tamlin hands Feyre over to Rhysand. Panicked, shocked, and desperate, Rhys scrambles to gain Feyre’s trust, find her a hiding place, and cover his tracks before returning Under the Mountain. And then learns the hard way that Feyre Archeron can never leave well enough alone.

Another update for @officialfeysandweek <3

Some text is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury, and just a note that I've chosen not to use warnings for this fic.

Ch. 1 | Read the second chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Sweat dripped from my brow. A muggy, heavy, oppressive heat blanketed the woods, the sort of weather I fantasized about on the coldest winter nights, then silently cursed when the seasons changed. Warm weather meant long days covered in bug bites and desperately hunting to save enough coin to tide us through the next winter.

This wasn't the temperate warmth of the Spring Court. This was summer.

But I could hardly complain. I passed enough bushes with plump red berries to put a damper on my gnawing hunger, and I had plenty of daylight to burn while I searched for a place to sleep.

I'd need to eat something more substantial eventually. But I'd starved enough to know I had until morning to get my bearings before the hunger pangs became too severe.

The trees looked no different from the ones below the Wall. Older, perhaps, more gnarled and covered in moss, but familiar. I spotted a few ordinary birds and squirrels in the branches, but…far fewer of them than I'd expect.

As if something routinely picked them off.

Around mid-afternoon, I came across a deer carcass, reduced to nothing more than bone. Hardly unusual—bugs and rot came for everything eventually. But when I crept closer, I noticed scorch marks on the ribs and antlers.

I didn't stop to examine it—more urgently than finding food, I needed fresh water. And though my pack was full of tools courtesy of Rhysand, he'd neglected to leave me with a map of this place. I'd have to locate a stream on my own.

Once, I passed a crumbling stone tower, the sort with long, narrow slits for archers to shoot through. The last remnant of something, though the ivy-covered stones were so worn down that I couldn't say what. A few hours later, I passed it again, though I was absolutely certain I'd never doubled back.

And I could've sworn I spotted a face peering down at me from the top.

I bolted through the trees and didn't stop running until I nearly collapsed in a heap. My ragged breathing echoed in the too-quiet forest, and I nearly vomited onto a patch of toadstools. But I was still utterly, blessedly alone.

A few hours later, I found the stream. Later than I would have liked, but the water ran clear and cold—at first, I assumed, due to the snow capping the mountain peeking high above the trees to the west. But strangely, it ran towards the mountain and not away.

I didn't question it. A few fish swam in the water, and if I wanted to catch a few to cook for dinner, I needed to hurry up and find a sharp stick to use as a makeshift spear. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon. And then I'd need to start a fire and find a flat place to camp, ideally with a boulder to block the wind…

I hadn't missed this. The Spring Court had been a welcome reprieve from sunburn and my undershirt sticking to my back and too many tasks to complete before darkness fell. I hated feeling cooped up inside, but I preferred the safety of the manor's walled, manicured gardens to the harsh woods.

Rhysand had said to keep hidden, and a fire might as well be a signal flare. But I needed to eat, so I risked it.

A strange, suspicious mist descended the moment the kindling caught the spark. I shivered. All day, the sky had been a clear, cloudless blue, no signs of rain or fog.

My stomach growled, and I busied myself with coaxing the campfire to life, ignoring the tang of magic causing the hair at the back of my neck to rise. I'd learned from other hunters that no good ever came from acknowledging any spirits in the woods.

When lights began to dance in the distance, playful and inviting, a promise of treasure if I followed them deeper into the trees, I ducked my head and dutifully ate my fish. Something called my name, and I pretended it hadn't.

By the time I'd cleared away the bones and ash and made myself comfortable in my bedroll, whatever was out there had stopped trying to bother me. Perhaps it was reckless, but I kept the tent in my pack and slept in the open that night to see the stars.

It had been so long since I'd had a chance to admire them.

I let the sight of it soothe me as the full weight of my exhaustion and grief and the terror of the day finally hit me. The Spring Court had become my home, a place where I'd found true happiness. With Tamlin, I'd had peace and stability, more than just a comfortable bed, a full belly, and time to paint.

I might even have fallen in love with him.

But he'd handed me over to Rhysand without a fight. Cast me out, as if—

You can call me Rhys, you know. No one uses my full name besides my prisoners and my enemies. No invisible talons, this time—his words floated into my head as if they'd been carried on a night-kissed breeze.

It was as gentle as an intrusion into my mind could be, but I still sat bolt upright in shock. My hand flew to my chest. "What the hell?" I hissed aloud.

I'll teach you to shield to avoid this in the future.

You'd better, I grumbled, laying back down. But how did it go? Are you alright?

She believed the lie, though it disappointed her to hear she'd lost out on an opportunity to torture you to death. I had to…cheer her up. For quite a while.

My blood ran cold. I wished I had something better to say or a way of thanking him for bothering to save me and enduring that bitch's touch. But all I had was, I'm sorry.

Could I trouble you for a favor? If you don't mind me looking out your eyes, I'd like to see the stars.

I nodded, then remembered he wasn't actually here with me and said, Alright.

I braced myself for slashing talons, but again, they never came. Instead, I felt Rhys's mind curl up against mine, as if he'd slid into the bedroll with me. I'd never been close to someone like this, our very souls sharing breath.

We couldn't hide from each other like this. It was deeply, painfully intimate to feel him brushing up against the very core of who I was. But…I wasn't afraid.

Thank you, he said, and pressed this close, along with the words, I could sense his gratitude I'd let him in, his homesickness, his exhaustion from keeping up a charade for so long, his shame that he'd allowed Amarantha to bring him so low and hadn't fought back.

And guilt—so much guilt—for all the lives he hadn't been able to save.

I'm glad I could help.

We stayed like that for a long while, silent and intertwined as we stared up at the moon together.

I know you have questions, Rhys said eventually. Just ask.

What does it mean to be mates? I know we have a….a bond. But I don't understand why that makes Tamlin so afraid of you. Or why'd he just let you walk into the manor and take me.

In the Night Court, it has been illegal for millennia for a male to kill anyone who makes advances towards his mate. Other courts, like Spring, aren't quite so modern. You are your own person, with every right to reject the bond after it snaps into place. But in the eyes of many faeries, you belong to me, and our kind have gone to war for less.

I hadn't realized a mating bond could be rejected. Perhaps Rhys was merely biding his time, ensuring he knew where to find me so that when it finally snapped, he could be rid of me as quickly as possible.

A High Lord wouldn't want a human girl. Especially not one so…prickly as me.

A harsh, bitter laugh echoed in my mind. The world believes I rule over and delight in a Court of Nightmares, and beyond our borders, my people are hated. I wouldn't expect my fated equal to be particularly cheerful.

It did seem absurd when he put it like that. I'd known Rhys for hardly a day, but he moved like an apex predator, terrifying even with mere scraps of power at his disposal. I couldn't imagine him with someone soft.

I wouldn't have expected my fated equal to exist at all. And not merely because I was human.

The next words were so quiet, I almost thought I'd imagined them. Neither did I.

We went silent again. I squirmed in my bedroll, utterly undignified as I tried adjusting it to let in a bit of the cool night air without taking my eyes off the stars. But still, it was easier than talking.

I should let you rest, Rhys said eventually, the words laced with reluctance.

I didn't want him to go. Not because I'd miss him, but because I didn't want to be alone in this strange forest, sharing the dark with creatures intent on drowning me or eating me or or both. Since coming to Prythian, I'd never felt farther from home.

Stay a little longer?

Alright. Until you fall asleep.

I rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. Sweet dreams, Rhys.

Sleep took me before I heard his reply. Exhaustion, perhaps—it had been quite the day—or he'd used his powers to ensure I drifted off quickly. But regardless of which, my sleep was dreamless and restful, enough that when the sun rose, I dragged myself out of the bedroll without too much trouble.

Another breakfast of foraged berries, and then I broke camp and continued to wander. If it rained, I'd need to build a shelter; I didn't relish the thought of finding a cave to huddle in. The Mother only knew what kind of creature I'd have to share it with if I did.

Around midday, I'd found an ash tree and perched in it as I used a sharp rock to fashion a few branches into stakes. The jeweled hunting knife that Lucien had gifted me was probably still in my bedroom in the manor, and I was cursing my stupidity for leaving it upstairs during lunch when a talon brushed against my mind.

I bit back a surprised shriek and nearly fell out of the tree.

Plotting my demise, Feyre darling? The words glittered with wicked delight—as if the thought of me attempting to kill him was exciting.

Scare me like that again, and I just might.

Something in him…dimmed. Like a star winking out. I didn't mean to frighten you.

You said you'd teach me to shield myself, I said pointedly.

I know. Amarantha doesn't trust me enough to allow me into her meeting with an emissary representing her king in Hybern, so while we have some time together, start by shoving me out.

I didn't know how. Yesterday, he'd speared my mind so completely, his talons digging into me from every possible angle. He'd surrounded me from the inside out.

At least make an attempt. No mate of mine should go down without a fight, he hissed.

I imagined planting my palm on his face and wiping away a smirk as I pushed him far away from me. And to my surprise…it worked. With those claws at a distance, I took a shaking breath.

Not yet—I can still get back in. A retreat isn't over until you've blocked the enemy out entirely.

Rhys wasn't my enemy; he'd said that last sentence like a rule that had been drilled into him over and over. He hadn't sounded like a High Lord, but like….a military commander. A trained warrior.

Lucien had said he wasn't old enough to have fought in the War, but…was Rhys?

I'll answer that question if you put some gods-damned walls up, he said.

Right. He could still hear me. I imagined a wall of adamant snapping down, black as night and a foot thick. His claws scraped against it but did not find their way through.

I pictured a crack in the wall, just thick enough for my voice to pass through. Good enough?

An excellent start. The words were ribboned with pride as they passed through the opening I'd created for him.

I couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud of me.

My shields had either kept that thought from Rhys, or he'd chosen to ignore it and said, To answer your question, yes. I began training in a war-camp at the age of eight and later commanded a legion in the War. I was quite young—for a faerie, at least—when the fighting broke out. My father was still High Lord then.

If I thought too hard about how old that must have made him, I'd end up with a headache. And I couldn't imagine how he must have felt, an ancient immortal mated to a teenager who'd grow old and die in the blink of an eye.

Not that I would have asked because an even more horrible thought occurred to me. You were one of the faeries who fought alongside the humans, right? Not…the others?

The Night Court was part of the mortal-faerie alliance. Was that not part of your history classes in school?

Perhaps it would have been if I'd ever attended.

I could practically feel him go still in that preternatural way faeries did. I said nothing, just waited for something horrible and judgmental, some cruel comment about ignorant humans.

But it never came.

Apologies. I shouldn't have assumed.

He'd said he was sorry twice in as many days, far more consideration than I'd ever expected from a High Lord. I had no choice but to trust him, but…he still seemed intent on earning it anyway.

Before I could respond, Rhys swore to himself and said, I have to go. She's summoning me. Keep practicing—raise and lower your shields until it's second nature.

He pulled out of my mind without saying goodbye. And in this strange, still forest, I didn't even have the wind for company.

***

The days blurred together after that. I spent most of them on my feet, mostly concerned with finding enough food. Fish from the stream and a few foraged plants would sustain me in the meantime, but I needed something more permanent than a tent if I wanted to fell a deer and preserve the meat.

I stopped flinching each time talons knocked against my shields. Rhys slipped into my mind at every opportunity, even if it was just a few minutes alone. In those brief snatches of time, when there was only time for a single question, he only ever asked if I was alright.

It was the most anyone had ever fussed over me in years.

Most nights, we spoke mind-to-mind for longer. We didn't talk about the fact that Amarantha usually slumbered beside him when his talons brushed my shields, but I could sense it. Though I'd eventually made a lean-to for shelter, I crawled out of it to let him see the stars through my eyes.

It helped, I think.

Enough that I figured he tolerated my questions as a thank you. I peppered him with them at every opportunity, interrogating him about magic and the Night Court and what the other High Lords were like. When he finally deemed my shields strong enough, he showed me memories of a hidden city nestled deep in his territory.

Velaris, the City of Starlight. A place of peace and prosperity and so much art that I wanted to weep. I missed painting.

Before long, a summer thunderstorm rolled in, the dark clouds blocking any decent view of the stars, and—damn my luck—it was a new moon. I huddled under the roof I'd fashioned of branches and brambles, curled up in my bedroll and desperate to stay dry.

There would be no tracking the constellations. And I assumed that meant I wouldn't hear from Rhys, either. But to my shock, invisible talons caressed my mind anyway. Always the tone of surprise with you, he said as he slipped through the opening I'd made for him.

I can't show you the sky tonight. I figured you'd rather rest than stay up just to talk to me.

Have you considered that speaking to you is one of the few things I like better than watching at the stars?

I hadn't. At best, I was a complication that made his already miserable life Under the Mountain more difficult. And I spent my days wandering around the woods in search of food, which hardly made for scintillating conversation.

We have a magical thread tying our souls together. You don't need to bother trying to flatter me.

I'm not. You think in textures and colors, and I could listen to you talk about it for eternity.

He meant it. And for an immortal…eternity wasn't an abstract concept. His mind nestled closer to mine, the closest thing he could manage to blocking the howling wind with his body.

So on my darkest night in the forest so far, I showed him the paintings I dreamed about—the images I'd collected and hoarded in my memory, keeping them safe until I had canvas in front of me again.

But I couldn't continue on like this forever. The days were still long, but they'd get shorter soon. And the weather would turn.

On occasion, Rhys managed to send me supplies that appeared in the lean-to—a canvas tarp, a lantern, another flint, all conjured from thin air. Even if he got his hands on winter gear, I doubted it would be enough to get me through the winter without losing a few fingers and toes to frostbite. I'd be alright, perhaps, if I managed to make myself a bow and the cold spared the fingers I used to draw back the string.

There was still time—the leaves on the trees hadn't yet begun to turn. But we needed a new plan.

I'd been mulling over possibilities when I'd stumbled upon my answer, as if the forest knew just what I needed. In search of more plants to forage, I'd wandered deeper into the trees than ever before.

I emerged in an unfamiliar clearing. A perfectly circular clearing, one that must have been made deliberately.

Because a small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I should have turned back. The few birds had gone quiet, the insects no longer buzzing. As sure sign of a predator lurking nearby.

This place was a trap. But I was growing desperate, and I longed for a bath and a bed and a proper roof over my head. So I took a few cautious steps down the path.

I could hear faint singing, the voice bright and clear. The lyrics that I could make out were horrible ones, something about sisters drowning one another. I paused.

The voice, honeyed and beautiful as it was, didn't seem to be luring me in. I took a cautious step back. Nothing tugged me forward. I tried again and made it all the way to the trees without any difficulty.

If I had to guess, whatever lived in the cottage could be reasoned with. It—she, perhaps?—wasn't a mindless beast. Still quite possibly intent on eating me, but…maybe not, if I could prove my worth or make a bargain.

Gathering my courage, I started down the path again. I raised my fist to knock, but the door swung open soundlessly. Practically inviting me in.

From the threshold, I could see shelves piled high with junk. The cottage was practically stuffed with everything from books to pottery to dolls to jewelry to taxidermied birds.

An immortal hoarder probably had winter survival supplies somewhere among the mess…

My gaze landed on the spinning wheel next. The humming, I realized, came from the steady turning as the cottage's occupant worked the thread. Her dark hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, but her hands were just a few shades too pale to be human.

She'd probably kill me if I stepped inside without permission. I took a breath, steadying myself, then rapped my knuckles on the weaver's door.

[hoejosatoru]

Crush

“Can you read my mind, I've been watching you.” 

Pairing: Fem!reader x Bonten! Mikey

Summary: You’re the secretary of Bonten and Mikey gets very jealous when Ran tries to take you out on a date.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, Mikey fantasizes about shooting Ran lol, drinking, scratches/blood, bruising, possessiveness/jealousy, fingering, cream pie, squirting, sorta voyeurism if you stand on your head and squint, pet names like baby, angel, etc

You sat at your desk, a rich, dark mahogany, thumbing through the paperwork you would have to complete by the end of the day. Being a secretary at Bonten was unlike any other job you had. Paid a hell of lot better, too. You knew, though it was not what it seemed. When you were hired, you were told it was an office supply company. Well, you’ve been working there for nearly a year and you haven’t seen so much as a pencil being delivered. You kept your mouth shut, which kept the direct deposits coming every 2 weeks. That’s all that mattered.

Your lack of concern for what the men you worked for did was exactly why you still had the job. Mikey, the boss, never really bothered to learn the names of the secretaries. They came and went like the changing of tides. By the time he learned a name they were gone. He didn’t care enough to keep up. But your name he knew.

No secretary has lasted this long. They usually start asking too many questions, which leads to a very large severance package and a detailed description of what would happen to them if they ever shared about their time working there. So far it has proven to be a very effective method.

The second, and frankly more annoying, reason secretaries left was because of his asshole subordinates fucked around with them and broke their hearts. No matter how many times he’s told them not to shit where they eat, they can’t help themselves. Dogs, all of them. Sometimes Mikey felt like the only one who thought with his head instead of his dick. And the girls were all too eager to fall all over themselves for these shit men. It was all so high school and predictably pathetic.

And, predictably, Takeomi and Mochi had been the first to approach you. The age gap between them and the girls who worked there never seemed to phase them. Mikey rolled his eyes at how utterly shameless they were. But you said no to both of them. That was the first day Mikey bothered to read the nameplate on your desk. Y/n, he tucked it away in his brain.

Next was Sanzu. He asked you to come over to his place and test out some “product.” You politely declined. Smart girl, Mikey remembers thinking. The next was Rindou, another rejection. Then Koko, which was particularly unique since he rarely ever got involved with women at work. Mikey respected that about him. Yet it was still no.

Mikey’s interest in you was thoroughly piqued at this point. No woman has ever lasted this long, nor turned down so many of his subordinates. He chuckled each time one of them walked into the board room with a dejected face. The only ones who had not taken a crack at it were Ran and Kaku and as Mikey listened to Ran chat you up, he realized that was about to change.

Mikey swirled the whiskey in his glass, rolling his eyes at how Ran tried to flirt. He was so sleazy. Out of all his subordinates, Mikey liked Ran the least. He was smug, obnoxious, and loved walking the line of insubordination. Mikey could always feel his eyes on him during meetings and knew he wished he could take him place. Over my dead fucking body, Mikey thought. At times Mikey wished he could just toss Ran out, but he and Rindou were a package deal. Regrettably, he could not stand to lose both of them. So he grit his teeth and beared it.

“So when can I take you out?” Ran asked.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Mikey smiled, sipping his drink. He couldn’t wait to see Ran’s stupid fucking face after you rejected him.

Ran pressed on, “A pretty girl like you deserves to be taken out somewhere nice. Bet you look even better all dressed up.”

“You don’t think I look nice now?” you countered. Mikey leaned forward in his seat, loving that you were giving him an attitude. He didn’t wanna miss a second of it. He downed the last drop of whiskey.

“‘Course you do darling.” Mikey could practically hear Ran’s slick grin. “That’s why I’d love to see you this Saturday. It’s torture waiting the whole weekend to see you again.” Mikey braced for your answer.

“Okay.” The air escaped his lungs in a rush. Okay? Okay?! How could you have said no to everyone, but yes to Ran. Mikey didn’t realize he was gripping his glass so tight until it shattered in his hand. He didn’t bother to clean the glass shards off the table even as the other members started to file into the board room. They gave him a quizzical look, but knew better than to ask.

Ran filed in last, the smuggest smile on his face. Hatred burned through Mikey more than the whiskey did. “Looks like I’ll be keeping y/n company Saturday,” he announced after shutting the door behind him.

“No fucking way,” Takeomi replied. Sanzu groaned and passed money to Rindou. Rindou had known better than to bet against Ran when it came to women.

“Why the fuck did she say yes to you?” Koko asked exactly what Mikey was thinking. The thought of promoting Koko passed vaguely through the storm of Mikey’s mind.

“You all ever consider I might just be better than you?” Ran asked, hands collapsed behind his head like an asshole. He caught Mikey’s eye, picking up on the contempt rolling off of him. “Except you of course, boss.”

“Of course,” Mikey replied icily. He nodded to Sanzu to start taking over the meeting because he frankly couldn’t think straight. Ran looked so fucking smug it made him sick to his stomach. He fantasized about pulling the gun he had under the table out and blowing his brains out. Even he knew that would be a bit drastic.

He had to look away from Ran, or he knew his anger would consume him. Yet he couldn’t shut his thoughts off. He knew what a womanizing sleaze Ran was, knew that on Monday he would come back to this very room and tell them all, in detail, what he did to you. What you looked like, how you felt, how you tasted. Ran always shared the sordid details of his conquests in bed. Mikey found this habit irritating on most days, but with you? Oh, he would definitely put a bullet in him. He could not have Ran defile you.

It dawned on Mikey, through his haze of hatred, that he was jealous. That he wanted you for himself. Somehow he had let his interest in you develop into a crush. He was going to make you his. He sat back in his chair and started planning.

***

A knock came at your apartment door about an hour earlier than expected. Funny, you didn’t expect Ran to be the type of man to be early. You were about half ready. Your makeup was done, but your hair was unstyled . You were in the process of trying on different dresses when you heard him at the door. Leave it to Ran to arrive when you had on the most revealing dress of them all.

But when you open the door, it was not a tall lilac-haired man who greeted you it was-

“Mikey?” You were too surprised to address him properly. “What are you doing here?”

“May I?” He ignored your question, gesturing to the inside of your place. You stepped aside, allowing him in. A million questions popped up in your mind that you couldn’t focus on because he looked so fucking good. He was dressed in sleek black pants and a silky black button down. A gold chain glistened against his chest. It was simple, but you reckoned it cost more than most of your wardrobe.

He sat down comfortably on one of your living room chairs. It was strange seeing him here. Out of place like when it rains, but the sun is still shining. He looked at you, eyes unreadable.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” you announced, disappearing into the kitchen. There was a flutter in your stomach, one you weren’t entirely sure was excitement or fear. You knew Mikey was here for a reason and until you knew why, you’d have to settle for being somewhere in the middle.

Mikey observed you coolly as you placed a glass of whiskey, neat, in front of him. He noticed your glass was the same. He took a sip. It was his favorite.

The quizzical look he gave you did not go unnoticed. “I saw you drink it and was curious.” You took a sip and smiled, settling into the seat across from him. “You have good taste.”

Mikey secretly loved that you’d been observing him. He was impressed that he hadn’t even picked up on it. But he loved most the idea of you thinking of him when he wasn’t around. That you went to the store, bought a bottle just because of him, and drank here, in your own space. He became a part of your life outside of work without even trying. He took another sip of the whiskey, suddenly loving it even more.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Mikey looked you and down, really taking you in for the first time since he got here. The dress you had on left little to the imagination, yet he found himself wanting to rip it off, needing to see what was underneath. He loathed the idea of Ran seeing you dressed like this, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. Your lips were lacquered, making them look exceptionally plush. He wanted to bite into them, wanted to hear you gasp when he did.

“Do you like Ran?” No point in dragging things out. He wasn’t a very patient man, especially not with you looking like that.

You blinked, but did not seem shocked by the question. “Is this some sort of test?”

Mikey considered that. There was an answer he was hoping for, surely, but he also knew he wasn’t going to hurt you if he didn’t get it. A luxury he rarely afforded others. He would just be very, very disappointed. “It’s just a question.”

“Any woman who likes Ran is an idiot,” you answered. The twitch up at the corner of Mikey’s mouth told you that you answered correctly. “You don’t like him, either.” That was not a question

“Not particularly, no,” Mikey replied, sipping, “but I’m more interested in your thoughts of him.” The more he spoke with you, the more he felt drawn to you. You were smart and observant. If you were afraid or uncomfortable with his presence, you didn’t show it. Not many people were so calm around him. He wondered briefly if your talents were being wasted as a secretary, but he lost the thought as you began to speak again.

“Ran is not very…” you took a sip, letting the whiskey roll around your tongue as you considered your words, “interesting.”

“No?” Mikey could hardly hide his amusement. Any prickles of fear you felt were melting away. You played this exactly right.

“No,” you confirmed, “men like him are a dime a dozen. All sweet talk and full of shit. I know the second I gave him what he wanted he’d leave.” You finished, draining your glass, setting it down on the coffee table between the two of you. There was a hint of challenge in your eyes as you looked at Mikey. “You, on the other hand, are very interesting.”

Mikey finishedhis  drink, relishing your words. He loved that he intrinsically had something Ran did not, something that sparked desire in you. He could practically feel it coming off you in waves. He knew if he slid his hands between your thighs you’d be soaked. Still he wanted to hear you say it. Savor this moment a little longer. “How so?” He set his glass down, looking at you. Challenge accepted.

You stretched lazily, your dress riding up impossibly higher. Mikey was dying to know what your thighs felt like wrapped around him. “Well for starters you didn’t descend on me like a starved animal,” you said. “Either everyone who works for you gets no pussy or they’re terminally horny. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Mikey smiled at your assessment of his subordinates. You certainly were not wrong.

“But really what I found most fascinating is how they treat you. Most men aren’t afraid of someone of your… stature.” You paused, making sure you weren’t stepping on any land mines.

Typically, Mikey hated when someone commented on his size. They always came with the implication that he was inferior. However, he did not think that was the direction you were going. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“Men love their pissing contests. They’re such visual creatures that they end up blinding themselves,” you explained. “Men think size is everything.” You smiled coyly. “Yet all these men fear you. You command their respect and unequivocal loyalty without even having to try. That tells me there is so much more to you than meets the eye. And that is very interesting.”

Your appraisal of him made Mikey’s whole body buzz with desire. His cock throbbed wanting to be buried inside you; his fingers twitched wanting to squeeze your flesh. But he still needed to know. “So why did you say yes to Ran?”

Your head fell back as you laughed, as if you shared an inside joke. “Oh, Manjiro,” you sighed, “Because no man is immune to jealousy.”

If he hadn’t been so turned on by the way you said his name - his real name - it wouldn’t have taken him the extra second to process what you meant. You knew he’d be jealous if you went out with Ran. You used his subordinate like a pawn. It was never Ran you were interested in, it was alway him. Oh, he might just be in love.

“Come here.” You obeyed him immediately, much to his delight, crossing the small space between the two of you. When you were just a half step away Mikey sprung up, unable to wait another second without touching you. His lips found yours, loving how his favorite whiskey tasted on you. He bit into your soft lower lip, savoring the little moan that escaped. Even better than he imagined. Your thigh inched up his side and he gripped it tight, squeezing the plush flesh. He pulled away for a second to breathlessly state, “Jump.”

You wrapped your legs around him easily. Your dress fully hiked up, revealing burgundy lace panties. He smiled; it’s his favorite color. Your clothed pussy was pressed against his hard on, making him damn near feral. He carried you with ease to your bedroom. He was small, sure, but he was strong.

Mikey dropped you on bed, immediately climbing on top of you. You heard the tearing of fabric as he, quite literally, ripped the dress off your body. “Mikey!” you huffed.

He was unphased by your vexation. “I’ll buy you another one.” His lips were on yours again, preventing any further complaint. He squeezed your exposed breast, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasped, pressing into his touch. “So sensitive.” A bemused smile played at his lips as he kissed down your neck.

You slid your hands under his shirt, feeling the toned muscles of his torso. You yanked open the shirt from the inside, causing the top two buttons to fly off. Mikey chuckled. “Desperate too, huh? If you want my shirt off, baby all you gotta do is ask.” He reached back with one hand pulling the shirt off with ease and tossing it to the floor by your tattered dress. While he was at it, he undid the button of his pants, revealing the waistband of his boxers. You hooked your finger into them, pulling him closer to you. He kicked off the pants without missing a beat.

You reached down to squeeze his cock, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. “And greedy? Someone’s gotta teach you to behave.” He nipped at your clavicle. Mikey’s free hand slid down beneath your underwear. He let his fingers slip through your slick, loving how wet you got for him already. He teased your clit before pumping his fingers inside you, then repeated it. You squirmed beneath him, unable to break the vice grip he had on your wrists.

“Mikey - fuck, wanna t-touch-nngh.” He rubbed on your clit as you tried to speak, making it impossible to get the words out.

“What was that angel? Couldn’t understand you,” he feigned confusion.

“Wanna- oh-” he rubbed your g-spot. “Touch you please. Let me.” You babbled, breathless. You tried grinding your hips against him, but Mikey leaned his weight against you, immobilizing you.

“You can touch me once you’ve cum all over my fingers.” His middle two fingers were fucking you deep and fast. He curled his fingers, pressing the spot that made you go dumb. He marveled at the way you squirmed and gasped, loving that he could get you like that with just his fingers. The base of his palm brushed against your clit with each thrust of his fingers inside you. The coil in your stomach snapped, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you moaned his name. “Good fucking girl.”

Mikey released your wrists and your hands flew to his neck, pulling him for a deep, sloppy kiss. One of your hands went down, stroking his rock-hard cock through his underwear. Mikey groaned into your lips. “Fuck me, Mikey, want all of you.” You felt him throb at your words.

Mikey’s eyes were dark with lust as he took in the sight of you: flushed cheeks, hair a mess on the pillow, makeup smudged, begging for him. How could he deny you? “Gonna fuck you so good, baby.” He kicked off his boxers. He took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times. “And you’re going to scream my name. My real name. Got it?” You nodded, earning a slap on your clit. You yelped. “You speak when I ask you a question.”

“Yes, Manjiro,” you purred, running a finger along the tattoo you knew he had on the back of his neck. Mikey ran his cock through your soaked lips, letting his precum mix with your arousal. Each time his cock nudged your clit you jumped. He’d tease you all day if his balls weren’t aching so bad.

Your nails dug into his back as his cock pressed into you. “Fuck Mi-Manjiro, ‘s so big.”  You weren’t expecting such a stretch, but god were you wrong.

“Pussy so tight for me.” Mikey gripped the sheets next to your head to steady himself. He bottom out with a low groan. Mikey rocked his hips into you slow, feeling each little clench of your pussy. “So needy squeezing me like that. Never had dick like this, huh?”

“No, never,” you babble, “So fucking good.” Mikey quickened his pace, needing to see come undone again, to feel your pussy cum all over his cock. He hooked a hand under your knee, pressing it up to your chest. The deeper angle had you gasping. “Oh, Manjiro.”

“That’s right, y/n, who’s making you feel this good?” His grip tightened around your thigh, surely to leave a bruise.

“You Manjiro, only you,” you responded. So obedient, he thought. He silently rewarded that by rubbing circles over your sensitive clit. The unexpected sensation pushed you over the edge again, your pussy clenching against his cock. The pleasure spreading through your body was white hot. Mikey didn’t let up on your clit, making the pleasure borderline unbearable. You felt a strange sensation, gasping. “Wait too muc-ohh fuck.” Your nails dug into his pack, drawing blood as your pussy gushed, soaking Mikey.

“Fucking hell,” Mikey moaned, losing his composure. He let his head fall back as he came, filling your aching pussy with his release. Your pussy was fucking heavenly, making him cum harder than he has in a long time.

“What the fuck?” A voice made you jump. You peaked over Mikey's shoulder, eyes widening as you found Ran standing in your doorway. Through the fog in your brain you realized Mikey never locked the door after coming. This was purposeful on his part, of course. He knew Ran couldn’t resist a pretty girl’s unlocked door. Mikey was smug and beaming. He hoped Ran got to see you squirting for him. It would be the first and only time he’d allow him to see you like this. The look on his face was so worth it.

“Oh? Did you have plans?” Mikey asked meanly.

“Asshole,” Ran stormed off. Normally, Mikey would never let Ran get away with speaking to him like that, but he was too high on fucking you and his plan working perfectly. Plus, he knew when Ran didn’t have much to say it meant he was really upset. Mission accomplished.

But of course, Mikey can never leave well enough alone. That Monday you found a little gift wrapped box on your desk. It contained a gold necklace with “Manjiro” in script and a note telling you to join the board meeting at 1pm. Mikey sat you on his lap, name shining around your throat, claiming you for all his subordinates to see. He’s never seen Ran look so pissed. He gave your ass a squeeze, thinking of everything he was going to do to you on that table the second the meeting ended.

[mayajadewrites]

Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Eleven: Lucky

It's the last night of vacation. Or should you say, 'conference'. You and Levi have kept from touching each other for both of your sanities. He only had one nightmare within the last couple of days when he had his arms around you.

"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow morning." You zip up your luggage and prop it up against the wall. "I'm gonna miss the sun." 

"We can always come back." Levi sipped his 3rd tea of the day. "Besides, our client has been happy with our work so far so I don't see the deal falling through."

You nod, sitting on the edge of the bed. You've been able to be a completely different person here. Soon, you'll be back in reality. Back to being the assistant to CEO Levi Ackerman.

"Hey." Levi waved his hand in front of your eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry." You snap out of whatever trance you were in. "I'm just not looking forward to going back to New York."

"You act like I give you a ton of work." Levi sat next to you, his thigh touching yours.

"Not at all." You giggle, your head leaning back. "It's not like you don't pile on enough work for me to be busy for 2 weeks."

"You must have a different boss then. That doesn't sound like me at all." Levi's voice vibrated from his throat.

"Yeah, he's a lot hotter than you." You turn your head to look at his face. His side profile was carved by Renaissance artists. His skin supple from the moisturizer he just put on. 

"Damn." He chuckled, watching your face as you lean back. "He's lucky he gets to look at you all day." 

Your eyes find his as you sit up, holding each others gaze. You held your breath as Levi inched closer to you, his hand resting on your cheek. His hands felt hot on your skin - like his touch was taking your breath from your throat.

"What color is the light?" Levi's lips ghosted in front of yours.

"Green." You whisper, your eyes fixated on his mouth. "Green light."

Levi's minty breath kissed your lips before his lips did. He kept his left hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth softly. You lean forward, letting the straps of your tank top fall off your shoulders, your full breasts now on full display.

Levi's other hand snakes to your waist, his large hands pulling you into him. You moan at his touch which gives Levi the perfect in for his tongue. You press your hand on his thigh, letting your nails drag against the fabric of his sweatpants. 

You feel the palm of his hand slide up your body - pasts your breasts, to your neck. As he kisses you, he wraps his hand around the front of your neck - squeezing gently. You moan softly as he squeezes, your tongue dancing with his. He then moves his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into him. "God, I've been thinking about that mouth of yours for days." 

"What about it?" You whisper, moving your hips to straddle Levi's waist. This is the first time you took charge while being intimate since Levi always seems like the more dominant one. "Tell me what you love about my mouth, Levi." 

"I love how swollen your lips look after kissing you. I imagine them wrapped-fuck," He says as your mouth wraps around his tongue, sucking on it gently. "I imagine how those lips feel wrapped around my cock."

"Is that so?" You feel wetness in your core. You can't help but be turned on by him fantasizing about you. "Well, let me make that your reality." You push your right hand on his chest gently, letting his body fall onto the plush bed. 

You hook your fingers on the elastic of his sweatpants and pull them down to his ankles. Next, you slide his briefs down, revealing his long, girthy cock. You hear it slap against his stomach as your eyes watch in amazement. You've never seen a dick like his before. You're not sure if he could even fit inside of you. 

Levi's breath hitches as your fingertips touch the base of his cock. You're now on your knees, your doe eyes boring into his half-lidded ones. He watches as you grab the base of his cock, leading the tip to your lips. You give it a quick kiss before sliding your tongue along the slit. 

"Fuck." Levi's breath is shaky as he watches you pump his cock with your dainty hand. You don't break eye contact as you take his cock inch by inch into your mouth. His hands travel to your hair, gripping it roughly as you take more of him, quickening your pace. You close your eyes as you start to feel tears in them. But his cock feels so good in your mouth, and the look on Levi's face as you suck his soul out of his dick is so rewarding.

"Just like that, take my cock in your pretty little mouth." Levi peered through his eyes, watching you drag your tongue along his length, massaging his balls with your other hand. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth before he pulls out of you quickly.

"Why did you stop?" You watch Levi as he sits up, patting the comforter, seemingly looking for something.

"Do you have a condom?" Levi says with a low tone.

"I don't. Usually men keep those around."

"Let me check my bag." Levi got up, grabbing his backpack. To be honest, you want to feel all of Levi. But this is the first time he'll be fucking you, he'll be inside you, so it's better to be safe.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

Levi sits on the bed, a condom between his index finger and middle finger. "Found one. I brought only one, just in case. And for self control." 

"I haven't slept with anyone else." You look down at the wrapper. 

"I believe you. But, lets be safe." 

"You have way more clothes on than I do." Levi said huskily, throwing his t-shirt on the floor. 

"Let's fix that." You grab the bottom hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head and revealing your plump breasts. You kick your shorts to the side, crawling towards Levi on the bed.

"I like the view from here." Levi's voice is low, his mouth curved into a half smile. "I like when you crawl to me." 

You glance at Levi, then his mouth, then his cock. Your core is throbbing with need. You watch his hand slide the condom on his length as he pulls your arms closer to him.

"Light?" He whispered.

"It's green. Green as in go." You press a kiss to his lips as his arms wrap around you tightly, flipping you on your back. 

You stare at Levi as he lines his cock at your entrance. His eyes are locked on yours as he caresses your cheek with his index finger. "You are so beautiful, you know that?" Levi smiles.

"You're beautiful, too." You kiss his nose, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing core. "I need you, Levi."

"Impatient are we?" Levi plans kisses down your ear to your neck. "We talked about that, didn't we?" He growled.

"Levi, please." You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to yours.

"I really created a spoiled brat." Levi pressed his tip against your soaked pussy. He almost slid right in, but he stopped himself. His hand dipped to your slit, your arousal coating his fingers. "So wet for me already, princess?"

"Yes." You moan, digging your nails into his skin. "I want you inside of me, Levi." 

"How can I say no to that?" Levi pushes his entire cock into you, a loud moan escaping your lips. Levi watches as his cock disappears inside of you as he thrusts in and out of you. 

"You feel so fucking good." Levi cages your head between his arms. "This pussy was made for me."

"Just for you, baby." Almost inaudible noises leave your mouth. You didn't mean to call him baby, but it just... came out. Levi liked the sound of it though because he started thrusting faster. You felt his bicep against the side of your face as his dick reaches places in your pussy that you didn't know existed.

"Right there, Levi." You moan as he hits that spot. "Keep going." You press your palm to the back of his head, your fingers lacing in his jet black hair. You cradle his head in your palm, gently caressing his scalp. Even while he's fucking your brains out, you want to take care of him.

"Fuck, princess." Levi's pacing got quicker, and sloppier. You felt your walls pulsate around his cock and your eyesight going blurry. "I want you to come first. Can you do that for me?" 

You close your eyes and nod as you feel yourself come undone under him. The lining of your eyes went white and you saw spurts of rainbow as you reached your high. Levi pounded into you as you came, his own high coming soon. You pull Levis bare chest down to yours as he reaches euphoria, a moan of your name leaving his lips.

You're both panting as you come back down to earth, not wanting to move. Levi is still on top of you, the sweat sticking you together. You open your eyes and see Levi is already staring at you, his hand caressing your hair. "Are you okay? Was that okay?" 

"It was more than okay." You nod, kissing his nose. "I've never came like that. So fast."

Levi only nods, lifting himself off of you. "Go shower." His tone was back to being cold as his back is to you. You sigh and get up to the bathroom, your legs slightly shaking. You turn around and watch Levi stretch, his back covered with marks of your nails dragging on his skin. You watch the muscles contract before he turns to look at you. "You really have a bad staring problem."

[111ikuyuh]

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ Mini Successes ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⭐Bro...I need to rant about goofy successes I've have with the s/o I'm shifting for. So maybe let this motivate you that this is all real! So...my s/o is from an anime and I've been in love with him for like...almost a year....But stfu regarding that. I actually think we're soulmates. And these are just signs I've gotten in general not in order. Okay...

♥Sign 1: Like a few days ago I had a dream about my s/o and I never have dreams about him or it's rare. And he kinda...held my face and like said he loved me and only me and that he loves everything about me. I think he was directly speaking to me

♥♥Sign 2: I've done at least 5 pick a like yes/no readings and I asked "are me and (insert s/o's name) soulmates and I got yes 90% of the time

♥♥♥Sign 3: I genuinely feel like this is true love and we are soulmates. Like I believe fully and feel my heart belongs to him

♥♥♥♥Sign 4: As embarrassing as it was I was kinda fantasizing about doing the pocky challenge with him and the same day my mom came home from work with pocky. Both chocolate and strawberry for me and she got herself some also...And we RARELY get that 💀

♥♥♥♥♥Sign 5: This may not count but I do these online pick a pile readings a bunch. They are general, yes...Like the ones on amino. But some of them have a "signs that could resonate with you" at the end of every reading. And sometimes when the reading is scarily accurate about it...the signs are also a little to specific. And like this is regarding my s/o or even just about my daily life

♥♥♥♥♥♥Sign 6: literally LAST NIGHT...okay so these past few days I've been craving him worse than I already do and so I decided to send him a mental letter. I told him I loved him an insane amount of time and then stopped thinking about it. then at like 1am...I was listening to my music on spotify and after my playlist ended I started hearing other random songs. Eventually this one song played and I was like... "Hm...the melody reminds me of him" and that never happens before. then I decided to search up to lyrics and then the meaning. And then I realized it was a sign. It felt like he was trying to talk directly to me. Anyways I don't wanna say the song cause like..it's special to me now and it's the underrated song and like...yeah. But this is all true trust me! And let me just tell you...the song was so sweet

Okay that's all I can think of right now! Tell me what you think about all this? Coincident...? I think not

xoxo, seifarria signed out♥♥

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Mature Rated Fics Masterlist (24)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23 /

Created: January 6th, 2024

Last Checked:------

Acceptable Payment: A Date With Katniss Everdeen-rEckLeSsLy.cOnFIneD (ff.net) Summary: "That Katniss was currently aware of, she needed to do two things: First, she needed to inform Johanna about everything that was Peeta Mellark. Second, she needed her help to make sure that she was most beautiful version of herself she had ever been for this New Year's Party." [Modern AU. Everlark.]

Curious Kat-MissprissHG (ff.net) Summary: While on the Victory Tour, Katniss suddenly becomes very curious and Peeta is the only one who she feels safe enough to ask. Will he answer her questions? Will he show her what she wants? Find out how Katniss explores her newfound sexuality with Peeta.

Mind Games-Samh1212 (ff.net) Summary: Katniss is a freshman in college. She picked a school hundreds of miles away from home hoping to avoid any and all connections to her past. Suddenly, she's paired with Peeta Mellark, a guy from her hometown, to do a somewhat unconventional project for her human sexuality class. Modern Day AU

i've been on fire, dreaming of you-orangecranscones (ao3) Summary: "I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again." Katniss and Peeta try to heal after the revolution. And they (mainly Katniss) finally learn how to love each other.

Secrets I Have Held in My Heart-flythroughflames (ff.net) Summary: I was cold to him, nasty even. I acted like there was nothing I wanted to do less than spend time with him. But every night, I would fantasize about him.

Sneak Attack-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: A surprise during Peeta's walk home from the bakery could change everything. A little winter Everlark interlude post-Victory Tour.

The Night Belongs to Lovers-burkygirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss finds it easier to be honest about her feelings for Peeta at night when no one else can see. Everlark growing back together in three scenes inspired by Because the Night Belongs to Lovers, co-written by Patti Smith and Bruce Springsteen. Trigger warnings for language, allusions to torture and sexual content.

Twelve-HGRomance (ff.net) or on (ao3) Summary: She has loved him since the day he tossed her that bread. And she thinks that she'll never win his heart. Because all he's ever done is pretend for the crowd…but what if one real moment could change that? One-shot. Canon Divergence. The Victory Tour in role reversal.

Under My Skin-Court81981 (ff.net) Summary: One-shot. Katniss takes a temporary job as a nude model, intending to get through the month and collect a paycheck. She doesn't expect the blond-haired, blue-eyed art student in the front row to affect her so quickly, nor does she anticipate falling in love when he needs her help for a private project.

You Put Your Arms Around Me and I'm Home-mrsbonniemellark (ao3) Summary: What would happen if Peeta hadn't been hijacked and Katniss and Peeta were allowed a private reunion?

[sharksscripting]

ERIS WEEK 2024 | HEALING

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After a slightly heated discussion with his brother, Rhysand, Azriel decides that he needs to speak to his mate… to apologize.

OR

Part two of, “Why Not Me?”. This will make NO sense if you haven’t read, so please go check it out first!

—

A/N, this is 2/3, please be patient for me to the post the third and final part after Eris Week 2024! And, this does slightly not correlate with the prompt, but it was inspired by it!

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WC: 1.05k | Light Angst & Mentions of Sexual content | Azris

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1475207368-𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚-𝐱-𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥-𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58859323

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Azriel's hands twitched, it wasn't uncommon considering what had happened to them early in his life; but this time it was different. They seemed to ache for hold, something to grab other than each other or an article of clothing, they wanted to touch flesh.

And not the kind that he feels when doing his job, no. Those people's skin was hard, rough, it wasn't smooth like the texture he's currently fantasizing about. The spymaster groans in annoyance, wanting to discover whatever the feeling he was thinking about was.

But he had no clue where to start, he could try with the familiarity of his family—Rhys has soft flesh, it was taken care of in a specific order. It was a habit he developed after Under the Mountain—Feyre has began to join him in his nightly routine to help him feel better about his 'uncleanliness'.

His thoughts shifted to his other brother, though nothing about that man seemed particularly soft. He was always on edge, Cassian was a General anyway; he had no time for nightly routines—not that he would willingly do it anyway, unless his mate were to persuade him.

That's when Azriel's thoughts moved onto Nesta, she had the same skin as Feyre, beautiful and delicate—soft and smooth. Though her hands have been toughening up recently. She has been working hard alongside Gwyneth and Emerie.

The Shadowsinger's thoughts three halt, Gwyneth. It had to have been her that he is thinking about.

Her stunning, silky, ginger hair;Her lush, pink lips; Her strong, button-like nose that looked as if the Mother had sculpted it herself; Her amber eyes.

Azriel's thoughts come to a completely halt at that last statement, Gwyn's eyes were a luscious blue; not a yellow-orange.

Just after this idea had formed, Azriel was already angry. His heart filling with rage; he wanted nothing to do with the Autumn High Lord... did he?

Rather than letting himself finish that notion, he allowed his shadows to carry him to his brother's home, entering the River House without caring to knock. After all, it was midday, Rhysand would surely be home.

The spymaster of the Night Court makes his way to Rhysand's office in the house, pushing it open without a second thought.

"Az?" Rhys looks up from his papers, setting down his writing quill. "What is the matter?" Violet eyes narrow, calculating, but not judging.

"I need to ask you something." He replies, voice gruff and filled with annoyance.

The High Lord's eyebrows cock up, surprised by Azriel's sudden tone. "Well, what is it?"

"How did you feel when you first talked with Feyre, after she knew of the bond." Azriel questions bluntly.

"I've told you this story before, I told you and Cass the day after she accepted it." He then stands from his bureau's chair; walking over to his brother. "Why are you asking?"

The second Rhysand's own question leaves his lips, the male freezes, then smiles. "You have one? That's great, Az-"

"No!" He snaps. "It isn't!" The Illyrian male protests.

"But... you've always wanted one, why is it now bad?" Rhysand asks carefully, though his expression began to fade to irritation by his brother's childish outburst.

"Because of who it is." Azriel replies.

The High Lord of the Night Court stares for a long silent period. "Is this why you've smelt of Eris for months now?" Rhysand questions accusingly.

It was the Shadowsinger's turn to freeze, his entire body becoming rigid. "I've no reason to lie to you," He replies slowly. "So, yes." Azriel nods, but his face was contorted, still filled anger.

Rhysand sighs. "And you've kept this hidden because...?"

"It's only been sex." He scoffs out, crossing arms over his broad chest.

"And Eris Vanserra is fine with being your toy?"

Azriel's eyes snap wide, hands yanking the lapels of the High Lord's suit-like shirt. "Don't you call him that."

"Why? That's what it has been, no?" Rhysand retorts, unfazed by the hostile motion towards him; he knew his brother would never truly harm him—at least not permanently. "You've been using him for sex, your words."

His grip loosens, affected by the truth of Rhysand's words. The High Lord steps back with an unreadable expression across his face.

Azriel has been using Eris as nothing more than a stress reliever, a toy for his own personal gain.

"I'd suggest an apology, brother." He says before sitting back down at his desk, continuing to sign the papers atop his desk.

Without another word, Azriel shadow-walks to the Autumn Court; thinking of what he would say as he "winnows" there.

—

The liquor burns, falling down the High Lord's esophagus with ease. Of course there are healthier ways for one to cope with... relationship troubles, but Eris has always found drinking especially freeing; specifically whiskey. He loved how the rich, smooth, smokiness hit him, and he loved just how drunk it got him.

His eyes dart towards the now empty bottle, sighing as he finished off his last glass. Eris craved more of the robust liquid. So, he stood, walking toward the kitchen of The Forest House; his own personal stash having just run out in his room.

"High Lord." A servant known by the name of Isarn greets. He was an immigrant from the Night Court; beautiful tan skin, short, black, coiling hair, piercing, yellow hued eyes... if the male was Illyrian, Eris would easily mistake the male as his mate in his current state.

"Isarn," Eris replies, his hand coming to one of the black, marble counters. "Whiskey." He says, his voice weak, but leaving no room for question.

"Of course." The male nods, quickly moving to one of the rooms that store the liquor—like a wine cellar, but for Eris' favorite.

Isarn quickly returns with an aged bottle of the russet liquid, the faerie then hands it to his High Lord who takes it with a small nod; returning to his room to finish off another one.

However, when he returns, there's an uneasy feeling in his room; an eerie presence he could recognize within a heartbeat.

"Shadowsinger." Eris greets, setting down the whiskey bottle by the glass cup he was previously chugging from.

"We need to discuss something." Azriel says, hesitantly.

Eris studies his mates expression.

"That we do.”

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Tag list: @chunkypossum, @talibunny30, and @molcat07

Other: @erisweekofficial

[secretlytranced]

For the last few days I've been fantasizing about 2 things:

The first: Having an "office" where the staff are the most beautiful girls I can think of, that I know irl or from TikTok and stuff. There, all the girls are wearing one of those cool earphones that work with vibrations through the cranium instead of waves through the ear canal, so that they're listening to especially designed audio files synchronized to their daily schedule, so that they know exactly what to think, say, do and get triggered. They'd be programmed and conditioned 24/7 cause that's their brain now, and it can't be removed unless under instructions.

I'd be the CEO there, and even though they'd be trained to please anyone who needs something from them, my own presence and image would be the ultimate trigger and they'd just enter full drone mode, ready to be used and obey or become anything I tell them.

The second one: As part of the same harem's office/house, one of them would be my personal assistant, which, besides being also completely conditioned as the other girls, she'd actually be a skilled hypnotist that has power over me to some extent (cause she'd be acting under my commands and instructions anyway), so that I could become anything I want in order to expand the number of scenarios between me and my slaves to infinite posibilites. No limitations. Only pleasure, only obedience.

Ohh... I love the way you think! I would like to apply for the job in your office 🫣🫠

[faegoddessog]

My Favorite Treat

Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, F-Dom/M-Sub, Precum eating, light bondage, fellatio, spanking, edging, unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll!) jerking off, eating cum covered pussy, some praise kink More fucking

Summary: He confesses a fantasy that she is more than happy to deliver on, and why not make her dream come true as well. The hot session that follows combines them both.

A/N: Hello darlings! I started this twisty fic back in Feb. A submissive Austin Pet? I mean... yes please, any day of the week! It sat on the back burner due to life having me do all the things at once for a while! But now here it is, basted in juicy goodness. So please enjoy this tasty treat! As always let me know if you'd like to be added to the "Always tag me" list. And as ever, I love your feedback and comments! (hmm mmm, yours. Yes yours, please)

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

My Favorite Treat:

They were lying curled up, it was their mutual day off and they were greedily languishing in bed. They had gotten up, eaten breakfast, then decided they wanted some skin to skin time with one another. 

“Can I tell you about my dream I had last night?” she ventures, curled up on his chest.

“Of course honey, what was it about,” he strokes her hair.

“You,” she says simply. 

“Me? Did I do something naughty?” he smiles, he loved her mind, both waking and dreaming. 

“Oh yes, you were eating me out, like you do,” she started. 

He growled softly and pulled her closer. 

“It turned you on so much that you made me spread my lips and pull back my clitoral hood, then you towered over me and jerked off onto my pussy. Your cum hit my exposed clit like a freight train and I came on the spot.” 

“Wow, we may have to try that,” his hips pushed forward and she felt him getting hard. 

“But, then you got between my legs and sucked on my cum covered clit. It was so hot I came again.” 

“Whoa, did you wake up wet?” he asks, feeling his insides tighten.

“Of course, are you kidding? I'm wet right now just laying next to you,” she wiggled her ass up against him.

“Mmm, that is hot, you know, you could have woken me up in the best way,” his hand cups her tit. 

“Would you do that?” she asks pointedly, if not specifically. 

“Fuck you in the middle of the night, 100% yes,” his hand slides down to cover her mound. 

“No, I mean lick your own cum off of me?” she clarifies.

“Oh, well, yeah, I think it’s only fair, you lick yourself off me all the time. Plus, If it would turn you on, I’d do it. I’d do anything for you.” 

Her heart melts at his words, Austin is just the most magical person she had ever been with. He was so kind, so giving, so thoughtful. He knew himself and was willing to ask for what he needed, but was always delving deeper.  Such a good blend of old school and healthy masculine energy. His outsides were gorgeous, but his heart was where the gold of him was. There was no way she was letting him get away.  “Is there anything that you fantasize about? Anything I can do for you?” 

He blushes slightly, “Well, I know we’ve not talked about it, but… I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be dominated.” He bites his lip, eyebrows raised in the hope that she won't react badly to his confession. 

She nods acceptingly.

“If it would turn you on, I’d do it,” she turns in his arms to face him, “I’d do anything for you.” Her mimicking of his words back at him softens his eyes. He loves her so much. She’s always supportive of him and his sometimes crazy schedule. Always willing to give him the space his introverted self needed. She always trusted him and was always up for adventure. This was true especially where sex was concerned, more so, at times, than he was. In fact it was her that suggested their first threesome with that brown skinned beauty, her that said they should hook up with Callum and Dua. She was a marvel. She made him feel so safe. He never wanted to let her go.  

“Tell me what you like about the idea of being dominated,” a spark of an idea lit her mind. 

“I like the idea of not being in control, I think it’d be sort of liberating,” he said a little nervously. 

“That makes sense. How do you want it? What would you want to happen? Ordered around, made to do menial things or is it all about sex? Do you want to be tied up somehow? Do you want a little pain? Or to have your orgasm controlled or denied?”

“Geeze babe, I’ve not even thought that far ahead!” he is rosy cheeked with embarrassment. 

“We are just talking here, I gotta know so I can make it good for you,” she smiles at him. 

He takes a big breath, trying to calm his sudden nerves. “Oh it’s all about sex. I think I would be ok with a little pain, like spanking, but nothing too crazy. I think being tied or restrained would be exhilarating too,” he confesses, “But like, I don’t want you to call me mean names, just tell me what to do. And I don’t like the idea of orgasm denial, get me off at least once, baby.”

“Can I call you ‘Pet’ and spank you while I play with your cock?” her mind whirred with ideas. 

His breath hitches in his throat., “Oh god yes.” 

“And can I reward you by having you cum on my pussy then suck my clit until I cum on your face?” 

“Oh god,” he moans softly, ”that sounds amazing.” His now hard cock twitching in anticipation. 

“Ok, now, what is your safe word?” she asks, “in case you need me to stop.” 

“Can’t I just say ‘stop’?” he asks, with a nervous giggle.

“Well,” she runs her finger over his jaw line, “what if I want you to beg for me, I need a way to know when it’s too much and you need me to stop, especially if I’m paddling you or forcing you to cum.” 

His mouth drops open, he had no idea she would be so into this. Holy fuck she is hot. 

She reaches up and closes his mouth. 

“Why don’t we try the color system,” she suggests, “Green is good, Yellow is ease off, but keep going, Red is full stop. Will that work for you, Pet?” 

He just nods.  Precum drips onto his stomach as he arches his hips automatically towards her. The movement catches her attention. 

“Are you wasting my favorite treat?” she says suddenly and indignantly. She pulls his cock away from his stomach, watching the long line of fluid stretch from his belly to tip. “You know I love your pre-cum on my tongue.” 

His hips urge toward her, “I’m sorry, please, take it.” 

She wipes the clear fluid off his skin with a finger, then sucks it off.  

“Fuck I love that” she says, eyelids fluttering. “Letting this leak away without letting me suck that cock, that’s naughty Pet. I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Oh,” he picks up her message, “Yes, I’ve been bad.” 

“So, you submit to my punishment?” her eyes sparkle with excitement. 

“Yes mistress,” his desire spikes with her words.

“No, I am not your mistress, you can call me Goddess or Ma’am,” it’s like she’s thought this out ahead of time. 

“Yes Goddess,” he breathes the word out like a prayer, his voice quivering. He can feel himself getting more aroused by the minute.

“Get on your knees on the bed,” she tells him with a stern voice that brooks no quarrel.

His heart is pounding in his chest as he moves to obey her. He is nervous and excited all in one, he didn’t think she’d jump so quickly at fulfilling his fantasy. 

He looks at her, eyes filled with anticipation and submission. His cock is leaking more. She reaches out and with a forefinger and thumb, pinches his cock, pulling a little to squeeze out the precum. It drips all over her thumb as it comes out. He whimpers as she sucks it off her thumb, rubbing it along the roof of her mouth. God how he wishes it was his cock instead of her thumb. 

“Do you want me suck that right out of your cock?” she says, reading the open-mouthed look on his face.

“Yes Goddess, please,” he breathes, hips straining towards her.

“Then you’ll do as I say,” she runs her hand over his ass, “put your hands on the footboard, show me that gorgeous cake.” 

He moves to obey, feeling vulnerable in this bent over position. 

“I’m going to punish you for wasting my favorite treat,” her lips graze the shell of his ear, “and you will not move your hands, do you understand.”

“Yes Goddess.” he swallows a lump in his throat. He’s never done this before, and now that it’s happening he’s unsure. 

She gives him a few  experimental slaps with her hand, getting a feeling for striking him. 

“Please Goddess,” he begs, eyes closed. 

“Please what, Pet?” she asks. 

He actually isn’t sure. He grapples with the juxtaposition of pain and pleasure. The potential of coming torment and the excitement of it all wrapped up in one.

“Please punish me,” he ends up saying. 

She hits him harder, and with that first good smack on his ass, all hesitancy vanishes.

“Who’s precum is it?” she slaps him. 

“Yours,” he moans. “Who’s?” she hits him again. 

“Yours Goddess!” louder this time. 

“What’s mine?” she purrs, rubbing his ass.  

“It’s your pre-cum, all of it, only for you,” his voice is near begging, but for what he isn’t sure.

She slaps his ass hard, leaving an outline of her hand on one cheek. The sight of the red blossoming makes her burn unexpectedly with desire. 

“Color?” she asks before she lets herself go on.

It takes him a moment to remember what she is asking.

“Oh green, definitely green,” he looks over his shoulder at her with desire in his eyes. The smile that lifts her lip is nearly as intoxicating to him as the sting lingering on his ass.

“Good boy,” her sultry voice resonates directly into his ear. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to be good for her, nor how warmth would unfurl in his chest when she praised him for it. 

She slaps him a few more times.  He leans back into it, a perfect mix of sting and pleasure. Just as a moan is about to escape his throat, she wallops him hard, leaving a matching handprint. His hips jerk, making his cock bounce and tap his stomach. Her appreciative groan is in tandem with the odd little barking whine that his moan turns into.  She loves it, knowing he’d never voluntarily make that sound. She rubs his skin with both hands, leaning down to plant kisses on her handprints. “I love this ass, Pet, let's see just how red we can make it.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he breathes.

She begins with upwards, grazing slaps, being sure to spread them out across his cheeks and upper thighs. She rubs his skin, feeling the warmth there.  She hits him harder a few times, her hand stinging too. 

He grunts in pleasure.  

“Mmm, that’s so pretty,” she murmurs to herself, rubbing soothing circles on the curve of his ass. 

“Color?” She leans over him, her body pressed to his side as her hand slips lower to his balls. 

“Yellow,” he whispers, head down and watching her precum emerge again.  

“Hands behind your back,” she instructs, tapping his spine. Better to change tactics a little than to push him into a red answer.

He quickly obeys, pushing back to his knees. His cock is jutting out from his lean hips. His glutes are tight, like he is quietly begging for her touch. She maneuvers in front of him.

“I’m going to enjoy my precum, you are not going to move,” she looks him in the eyes. He nearly groans at her wicked little look. 

She lowers her tongue, flicking across his tip. Her fingers pinch and pull, a large dollop emerges from his little hole. Then she is enveloping his head, sucking, pulling, slurping at his tiny hole.  

Little bursts of “uh-huh” tumble from his open mouth as he watches her work his cock. It takes all of his willpower to not grab her head, to not stuff his cock deep into her mouth, but to let her take him bit by bit. 

“MMM,” she licks her lips, “that is delicious.” She sits back, running her thumb up and over his tip as he holds in a groan. “Look at you being so good.” 

“Lie down on your back.” she orders him, “hands on the corner post.” 

He immediately complies, legs naturally wide, his cock hard along his belly. 

She grabs the belt from his jeans.  The soft  thwap- thwap- thwap of her pulling it out makes his dick twitch. 

He watches as she wraps it around her fist. He has no idea what she plans to do with it like that. Images of his dick being slapped and pummeled with the belt flash into his mind. No, no, he shakes his head, he can’t take that. The word ‘red’ curls, ready to spring from his tongue. 

“Aww, scared of a widdle belt, Pet?” she drags the metal end of it along his leg and across his balls. She can see the shiver of fear in his eyes. She leans down and plants a reassuring kiss on his shaft then licks at an errant drop of precum. 

He shudders and moans. 

Her look up to him is positively devilish. She climbs on top of him, her pussy dragging along his hard cock just before she mounts his chest. They were both surprised at how wet she was.

“Give me your hands,” she winds the belt around his wrists, then secures it to the wooden headboard. Her taste for antique furniture is really coming in handy.

He pulls experimentally, grateful she didn’t want to abuse his cock, that he didn’t have to shout out ‘red’.  As he anticipated, he finds the restraints exciting. 

“You are so pretty, pet, all trussed and ready for me.” she coos at him, sliding down his body leaving his chest cooling with her arousal. His cock is jutting between her bent knees. She strokes the length of him with a finger. 

“I’m going to ride this gorgeous cock, little plaything. And no, you may not cum.  Tell me if you are getting close. If you don’t, I will be very, very angry with you and I will use this belt to punish your cock. I don’t want to, but you have to be good.” 

She wouldn’t, she knows this, but the look in his eye says that he isn’t sure what she would actually do at this point. 

“Yes Goddess, I’ll be good,” his voice shakes. 

She holds him steady as she slides down over him. His eyes flutter in pleasure. 

She slowly starts to move back and forth on him. 

He arches his back, his deep groan filled with raw lust and need. His biceps flex and bulge, pulling at his bonds. His hips are subtle, the rhythm matching hers with every thrust. 

“God don’t stop” he pleads, his voice hoarse with desire. 

“Oh I probably will,” she purrs, ”Can you control yourself if we go slow?” 

“Slow?” He chokes out, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I think so,” he gasps, the heat of his orgasm sparking inside him. All he wants is to thrust into her in a fury. 

She nestles him deep, grips with her pelvic muscles and pulls herself up his length slowly, then pushes down again. Over and over. 

“You like that, Pet? You want more?” Her fingers play lightly with the nibs of his nipples. 

“Yes, please fuck me slow Goddess,” he begs hoarsely. His body tensing as he feels the pressure build inside him. 

“More” he moans.  His hips buck and thrust involuntarily into her harder, unable to resist the mounting pleasure that threatens to consume him. 

“Ah ah ah,” she admonishes, lifting nearly off him. “We aren’t going hard, just slow, naughty pet.”

“Please,” he begs, his eyes pleading at her to give him what he needs. His breathing is nothing more than ragged gasps as he tries to control himself. The ache in him growing more intense even though she isn’t moving an inch. “Please, fuck me hard.” 

“No,” she says in a low voice. She grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her, “you are mine right now and I want to watch you seethe in tortured pleasure. Your orgasm belongs to me. Say it.” 

“My orgasm is yours, Goddess,” his body is trembling with need. His hands gripping the belt as he tries to find some semblance of control. Failing miserably as his hips move erratically, desperate for friction. 

“Tch, tch, tch,” her tongue clicks, her head shakes, “clearly you need a reminder of how to follow directions, Pet.” She undoes the buckle at his wrists, “Up, back on your knees and forehead on the wall.”

He moves quickly to obey her, turning around and pressing his head above the headboard. He is staring at his twitching cock. He had no idea she would be this good at dominating him. 

“Hands,” is all she says, tapping his back after climbing onto the bed behind him. She captures his wrists at his low back with the belt. She presses her breasts against his back and trapping his hands against her belly.  She can feel his breath catch and the shiver run up his spine as she reaches around and grips his cock lightly. 

“Goddess,” again the word drips from his beautiful lips like a silver prayer. His back arches slightly to give her better access. 

She can’t help but kiss his neck, wanting to taste his skin. Her hand grips a little tighter.

“Whose are you right now?”

“I am yours, your plaything, Goddess,” he whispers, his voice filled with submission and desire. He leans into her touch. Once again his hips  move of their own accord, seeking sensation against her hand. 

She lets go immediately. 

“No no, naughty boy, no thrusting,” she climbs off the bed, “...hmmmm something more.” She leaves the room. 

He takes deep inhales, willing his body to stay in position.  

She comes back moments later with her wooden hairbrush. “Maybe this will teach you.” She runs the bristles of the brush over his thighs, letting him see what he was about to get.  

His eyes widen minutely in fear, then in excitement. 

She goes behind him pulling the tail of the belt up, slapping him lightly, experimentally. Then she brings the back of the brush down on him with a loud crack. 

He lets out a soft cry of pleasure mixed with pain. It’s not terribly hard, but it stings. His cock bounces with the movement. 

“OOO, I like that,” She smacks him a few more times, rubbing his gorgeous ass with her hand between impacts, soothing his heated flesh with her cool hand. 

“Do you want more pet, harder?” she says close to his ear, subtly checking in with him, expecting him to say no. 

“Yes,” he breathes out, ”please… Goddess.” 

“Oh look at my little plaything,” she grabs his nipple, squeezing it just enough to make him breath in sharply, “enjoying a bit of pain.” 

The crack of the brush is louder still and he jerks. 

“Color?” 

“Yellow” his voice strained. 

Again and again she beats him with the brush, though not as hard, until his skin is red and hot and his moans fade into whimpers of submission.  She lets the tail of his restraint fall, tickling his ass crack as it swings back and forth.  She brings her free hand up to his mouth.

“Spit,” she says. 

He hesitates for a moment, not sure what is happening. Then he lets a long dribble of saliva fall into her hand. Excitement, shame and arousal battle on his face. 

“Oh, look at you being all good for me now,” she gives him a series of little taps with the brush all over his ass. Then she does it, coats his cock in his own spit. 

“Oh hoh hoh,” he moans softly at the wetness, the sensation intensifying his arousal. 

“Does my pretty plaything like that?” she asks in his ear just before bringing the brush down on his ass again. 

He hisses in pain and lets out a sigh of pleasure, unable to answer more than that. 

“Do you?”  she asks impatiently, smacking him again. “Yes Goddess,” he says quickly, “It’s everything I’ve wanted and more.” His hips are shaking, begging for release. A release she is unwilling to give him, not yet anyway. 

“You want to cum?” she asks.

“Oh Goddess yes, yes please.” his hips start pumping in her hand. 

She quickly lets go, “well you have to earn it, Pet.” 

Austin whimpers at her words, his cock throbbing in frustration. 

“I'll do anything, please Goddess,” he begs, tears threatening in his eyes, “Just please, please let me cum.” He can’t believe how much he wants it, how desperate he has let himself become. It’s wholly unlike him and deep down he finds that he loves the lack of responsibility, the lack of control over the situation. He loves the way she is utterly dominating him. 

“Oh no, not yet,” she backs away to give him a moment to collect himself in big huffing breaths. 

“Now,” she gathers the end of the belt in her hand, fingertips reaching farther to graze against his balls. The mattress shifts under her weight as she climbs up behind him, “who’s play-thing are you?”

“I’m your plaything, Goddess,” his voice trembles with submission and longing. 

She taps his inner thighs with the brush. He spreads his legs, again hoping to god that she won’t abuse his balls. 

“Good pet. Open those fingers,” she palms him, rolling his balls gently. 

He obeys the command, pointing his fingers toward her. His cock threatens to leak even more precum onto the bedclothes beneath him. 

She presses close to his back, now that he is lower, the slick of her pussy slides on his fingers. 

“I’m going to pleasure myself on your fingers and nothing gets to touch that pretty cock, not yet.” She purrs, slowly rutting over his hands. The warmth from his red ass radiating to her thighs. 

He trembles as he feels her juices covering his hands. He had no idea this was turning her on so much. His breath hitches at the thought. As much as he wants to thrust forward into nothing, he refrains. Her moans in his ear spiral him further into needing, wanting. He watches, forehead still glued to the wall, as a drip of clear fluid runs down his distended cock. He’s never seen himself so purple. 

She pulls the skin of his neck and shoulders into her mouth, digging her top teeth down, needing something in her mouth as she thrusts over the protrusion of his fingers. 

Goosebumps radiate down his shoulders and arms. The slapping of her hips causes him to brace his abdomen tight in order to stay upright. Her arms wrap around him, hands landing on his rippled belly. She groans. Holy Mother of god, he is an Adonis of a man. An Adonis that belongs to her right now. 

Her hips snap over his digits, she pants, head to the back of his neck.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she moans, her walls constricting on nothing. It’s not a big orgasm, just a little appetizer. 

He found himself sinking into this wildly erotic moment. With her hot breath on his neck and his hands soaked in her, it takes everything in him not to spin with a roar and rail her into the mattress. 

“What a good boy you are, staying so still when I know you want to fuck me into next week,” she murmurs in his ear, “I think you deserve a reward.” 

He growls at her words. Then his hands are free and she is sliding between him and the wall. Casually she strokes his cock with a loose hand.

“Are you ready, my pet?” she says with a wicked look in her eye. 

He just nods, not trusting his own voice. He is so heady with need and her hand, although dry is driving him wild

“You get a choice,” she pulls her legs to the outside of his, her pussy wide and open. “You can stroke that cock, or I can. Either way I want that cum hot and fresh right here.” She pats her lips and clit. 

“I’ll do it,” he says gruffly, He needs to finish and is unsure if she’ll play stop and go games with him. “Please Goddess,” he adds as an afterthought. 

“Just know that after you paint this pussy,” she pulls her lips apart, her cunt glistening. “I still won’t be done with you,” she says cryptically. He doesn’t care, his cock is about to burst, It almost hurts, it's so tight. 

“You can sink it in here to get it wet,” she gives him this, slipping a finger inside herself.

“Oh yes Goddess, please,” he is shaking at the thought, but dares not move. 

“You get three strokes, Pet.” She isn’t sure he’ll make it three strokes in reality. Hell, she might not either, this has been so fucking hot. 

In one desperate movement, he plunges his cock into her. 

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” he chants, his face a mask of immense pleasure. 

“One” she says sternly, to remind him of his limited time in her pussy.  

He pulls nearly out and slides into her again to the hilt. 

“Unhg, Two,” her voice moaning in pleasure. 

Again he impales her. 

“Three,” she looks up at him and he down at her. They both have the same thought ‘what if we just keep fucking, it feels so good.’  The image of him holding her down and fucking her until she is hoarse flashes in both their minds. But he pulls out and sits back on his heels, his cock wet. He wants to be a good boy for her, a good plaything.  

His hand glides over his shaft, he’s never felt himself this hard, she has worked him up into a freaking lather. He pauses, looking at her for permission. She nods. 

 He dribbles spit into his open hand. He aims perfectly, like he’s done it a thousand times. It’s fucking hot. 

“That’s it, be a good Pet for me,” her voice is one part praise, one part sultry, “Show me that cum, give it all to me, right here,” she uses two fingers to spread her labia. 

God she is hot as hell. 

She watches as his eyebrows knit together and his breath pants from between his lips. His chest rises and falls as his arm pumps back and forth. His hips thrust forward, his thighs tight. Every muscle he has is taut. He is fucking gorgeous and she can’t stop herself from rubbing her clit, then diving two fingers into her wet cunt.

When she starts finger fucking herself, that’s it for him, He can feel the immense pressure rising from his pelvic floor. His balls hug fast to his body, his hips thrust into his fist and he barely has time to pant out, “It’s coming,”  before the din of his orgasm overtakes him.

Insanely satisfying streamers of cum launch from his tip onto her lips, her clit, her belly. He watches as it runs, across her sensitive flesh.

The heat of his seed splatters over her.  One well aimed spurt jets right onto her naked clit and nearly makes her cum right there. 

He gives himself one or two last strokes, pushing the last of the viscous white fluid out his teeny hole. His mouth hangs open, his whole body shuddering in a final release. His breath is huffing from him. He wants to collapse on her, kiss her mouth softly, murmur sweet nothings into her ear. 

“Good boy,” she pets his leg, “Now, lick it.” 

His post-orgasm brain is foggy and he doesn't comprehend right away. He sees her hips are rocking back and forth.  His face scrunches slightly in confusion. 

“C’mon plaything” her voice isn’t insistent but sultry and sexy. “Eat that pussy, then I expect you to be hard enough for me to fuck the hell out of you.” 

He lowers himself between her legs, he feels a little trepidation in licking his cum from her. However, he watches her swallow his cum all the time and  he swallows her juices greedily when she cums on his mouth, ‘how is this any different?’ he asks himself.  Besides, he’d do anything to pleasure her, especially right now. 

His cum is spattered along her lips. He takes a long swipe with his tongue. He is tangy and a little bitter. He closes his lips close over hers, his tongue dipping into her. His fingers glide through the cream and into her. 

God she is so fucking wet. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what’s on her, in her. His love of burying his face in her cunt clicks into place. This right here, this he knows how to fucking do. So he does it. 

“Oh my fucking god, yes,” she moans loudly. His fingers curl inside her, hooking onto the spongy tissue just behind her pubis.  Her juices start to flow freely as he pleasures her pussy.  

He is like a man starved. He slurps up the mix of them, finding himself moaning into her. The flat of his tongue pushes and rubs in short little strokes at her sweet spot just under her clit. His fingers squelch in and out of her. 

Her glutes bunch up under her, thrusting her hips against his gorgeous face. She doesn’t register that her fingers are digging into his scalp with fistfulls of hair. 

“Eat that pussy,” she moans at him, “lick that cum up like a good little pet,” she accentuates the last three words with little hip thrusts into his mouth.

Part of him wants to say ‘Yes Ma’am,’ but his tongue is too preoccupied with winding its way around her clit. He knows just what she needs and hastens to do it right.

“That’s it, make me cum all over your fa-ayce,” the last word a moan.  

He does what he knows will make her cum, especially as worked up as she is, as wet as she is. He keeps steadily fingering her as he opens his mouth wide, pulling her clit and upper lips into the vacuum of his mouth, tongue flicking its way between to her clit. 

“Fuck yes! Fuck yes! FUCK YES!” she bucks against his face. Pleasure rising in her spine and bursting out the top. 

When she wails out her orgasm above him, he sticks his tongue out flat, letting her grind herself against it.  His reward is her spine tingling moans and the kneading of her hands in his hair. He slows and he changes to long slow licks to gently prolong her pleasure. 

She suddenly changes to pushing him away, “Stop! stop!” she moans.

Usually, when she got to this point, he would wrap his arms around her legs in refusal. He would have kept up his pleasurable torture, increasing the pace until he forced her into another orgasm. 

But he’s her little obedient pet right now, and he’ll do whatever she says. He suddenly wishes he was collared, the leash of which would be wrapped around her tightening fist. 

He sits back on his heels, face messy,

When he actually sits back, she is slightly stunned that he did, in fact, stop.

The fact that her dream had become reality then hits her and drives her wild with lust.  In a flash she has him shoved back onto the bed and is climbing on top of him like a wildcat pouncing on its prey. 

“I want that cock in me,” it comes out as a savage growl as she mounts him. 

He was so hard before plus the ecstasy of eating her out and his dick never really went soft. He barely has time to think before she is plunging herself hard and hot down on him.

“Oh my fucking Goddess,” his eyes roll back in his head. Her heat engulfs him, sucking him in. There is nothing like it, nothing in the world. 

“I’m gonna ride you like the plaything you are,” she growls. Her hands dig into his shoulders as her ass bounces up and down on his long hardness. 

“Yes.. M- M- M- Ma’am,” he stutters in pleasure.  

“Who’s pet are you?” her hips snap back and forth along his length. 

“Yours, yours, yours, your pet, I’m all yours,” he chants. She feels so fucking good, so wet, so tight, so hot. He’s not sure he can last much longer.

She sees his face, his forehead crinkle and his mouth start to drop open. His hips start to jerk up into her.

“Don’t you fucking cum until I say,” her nails make little half moons in his shoulders as she fucks him. 

“Ok, yes… fuck, Ma’am,”  he barely stutters out through now gritted teeth. 

She rides him hard and fast chasing headlong into her next orgasm. One hand ends up on his neck. Images of the collar flash in his mind and fuel him into near frantic craving. 

“Please, please please,” is all he can get out. His fingers dig into her flesh.

“NownowNOW!” she screams. Her hips falter and her glutes tighten as she impales herself deep onto him, shivering and shaking.

He bends his knees and he flies up into her at a staggering pace. 

Her pussy is a deluge and tightens yet more. They both roar into a gratification that feels so damn good it nearly hurts. His cum thunders into her as she thrashes on the end of his dick. 

She comes down slowly, still moving on him. The overstimulation makes him near mad with jerking and twitching. 

Finally, she collapses on top of him. Both utterly spent. 

Panting he cradles her in his arms as she nestles into his chest, still full of his cock. 

They doze. 

He softens and slips out, it rouses her.  

She sits up slightly, looking at his beautiful face.  Feeling her stir, he blinks his eyes open. 

“Hey baby,” her voice is soft and gentle, all hints of dominatrix gone, ” You ok? Was that ok for you, not too much?” 

“Mmm, Hmmm,” he nods, “Baby that was amazing, ten out of ten. Holy fuck, how did you do that? Know to do all that?” 

She smiles at him with a little shrug, “I’ve sorta played a little before, but that was so hot. You did so good. Maybe we should get you a collar, Pet.”

His only response is to gather her up in his strong arms and kiss her long and hard. The deep kiss was so passionate, that before she knew it, she was on her back and his cock was buried in her again.