#got the title of LORD and everything

[discjude]

Lady Lesso: Hey so I just think I should warn you now that you're like. back from being dead and all that but uh I know you want to appoint my son as one of the deans and I wanted you to know that he's probably not the best fit for the it given he keep trying to actually kill me and I'm not sure you want a violent sadist teaching students?? I'm not even sure he knows how to write Rafal, already wearing the I'm Not The Stepdad I'm The Dad That Stepped Up shirt: what

[slytherinshua]

the dream chapter eternity was the best concept ever and eternally is txt’s best song

[abibliophilehobbit]

so irritating to realize while organizing my bookshelf that I've bought a book I already own (and didn't especially love)

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[marvelouslymarly]

After Midnight (Bob Reynolds x female superhero!reader)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Robert Reynolds/the Sentry/the Void x female superhero!reader

Part two out now!!! Read here

Summary: You're out with the team when some dude starts acting like an ass. Bob helps you get away and takes you home to show you how a lady should be treated...

Rated E for explicit - Minors do not interact!!

CW: physical violence (bar brawl); the void showing up for a second there; some hints at sexual harrassment/assault (no on page rape!); Bob dancing with reader; fluff; half of this is smut (first time reader and Bob sleep together; oral/female and male receiving; fingering, p in v sex (protected); multiple orgasms) [i think i need a pastor]; minor thunderbolts* spoiler warning bc this is set after the film

Word count: 10.6k words (and I thought the last one was a long one, LOL)

Masterlist

[A/N #1: Got the idea for this on the drive home from my parents' place while listening to After Midnight by Chappel Roan, so here you go]

[A/N #2: thank you to @scuttle-buttle for cheering me on and reading through this!!! Dedicating this to you, babes🫰🏻]

The music was blasting over the speakers, and you could feel the beat in every cell of your body. The team had decided to go out that night, needing a break from training and recon-missions and the same old day-in-and-day-out of the last few weeks. While the guys had stayed back at the bar, Ava and Yelena had pulled you into the center of the dance floor, telling you to put yourself out there and have some fun for once. You knew that they were right. It had been a while since you forgot about work and everything that came with first being one of Val's shadow ops and then becoming part of what Val intended to become the new Avengers.

Even after a few months, the title still didn't feel right. It was just too loaded with expectations, with ideas and opinions about who you should be, what you should or shouldn't do. You guys weren't shiny and new. You were rough around the edges, with problems and your own past full of mistakes and regrets. You all had things you'd like to forget or wished to have gone up in flames with every little detail Val put in that vault.

Being called the "new Avengers" felt like stepping into footsteps not only way too big to fill, but also just the wrong shape to begin with. It was like trying to match the tracks of bears with those of lions. You were a different species of heroes - and even calling yourself heroes felt wrong somehow. You were too familiar with being the bad guys, with having your stories twisted, being used for whatever wrong someone wanted done without getting their own hands dirty. But now, you were supposed to be the ones stopping the bad guys, to fight the guys you were made out to be before.

So, this night out felt like the right call for multiple reasons. It was good for forgetting about work, but also for getting to know each other outside of work settings. You'd lived with them for months and knew everything about who preferred what guns, who would do what whenever you were out on missions but whenever you came home, you'd retreat into your own spaces, resting and trying to figure out where you all fit into whatever Val had in mind when she called the press on you and announced her new team of superheroes come to save the world.

~~~

Earlier that evening, while putting on that one dress in the back of your wardrobe, you could hear your mother's voice in the back of your head, telling you not to dress this provocatively. To be a good girl and cover yourself before the Lord's eyes. You felt the anger you'd repressed for so long bubble back up inside of you. Images of the time before you ran away from home came rushing back in. 

The front lawns of the neighbourhood peppered with signs with psalms and verses written on them. Crosses in every room of the house you’d grown up in. The metal rods and mosquito nets outside the windows to “keep evil out” but, in all honesty, they were there to keep you from climbing out the windows in the middle of the night. Memories of everything your parents tried to make you believe about the virtues of life and how to be a pious girl and a good servant of the Lord. 

You could feel the bile rise, thinking back to the person they had tried to turn you into.Their attempts to marry you off to some boy from the community. Michael Dawson. A good boy, named after the archangel. A god-fearing boy just barely old enough to drive a car. In the year before your parents had told you about their plans, you had barely exchanged two sentences with him. But still, it was blatantly obvious to everyone who looked at him and at the way he looked at Paul for even a second, that this probably wouldn’t have been the happy and sacred marriage your parents had envisioned for you.

When the blip first happened, it felt like you were set free from everything you hated so much. With your family gone, there was nothing holding you back from leaving the community while the rest turned to prayers and service. Just having turned 18 a couple of weeks ago, you’d grabbed the keys to your father’s truck and never looked back.

You caught a look of yourself in the mirror and thought about how far you'd come in the last 8 years. How much distance you'd put between your old life and this new one - regardless of how lost you still felt sometimes. You thought about how you moved to the big city and took up self-defense classes after a close call on your way home from work one night. How powerful you felt once you’d realised you loved to fight and get stronger both physically and mentally. That now, there was very little that you couldn’t get through because you didn’t have to rely on prayers anymore.

You pulled the dress down in the front, revealing more cleavage, and adjusted how your breasts sat in the built-in cups. The thought of your mother’s jaw falling to the floor at the sight of you in this get up, her hands doing quick work to bless herself, sent a smirk to your lips. You smoothed out the dress, letting your hands dance over the sides of your body while you admired yourself. The tightness of the dress, hugging you in just the right places, the skirt just long enough to cover the ass that you trained so hard for. Reapplying the dark red lipstick, you smacked your lips in a playful manner and ran your hand through your locks before leaving your room and joining the others in the common area of your shared apartment.

You could still hear the whistles Walker had sent your way, adding an approving 'looking good, [y/l/n]' after standing up straighter and looking you up and down. You rolled your eyes at him while you put your purse over your shoulder, and then adjusted the leather jacket thrown over your am.

"You clean up nice, too, I guess," you retorted and looked around the group.

Ava and Yelena had put themselves into their best party outfits as well, wearing a knowing smirk while putting up both thumbs, respectively. When your eyes landed on Bob, you could see a faint pink tint to his cheeks, and he quickly averted your gaze, nodding vigorously.

"Yeah, you look really nice... Really... nice, yeah!" He cleared his throat, the blush deepening a few shades. His jaw clenched and you smiled to yourself, having secretly hoped he'd like the way you'd dressed up.

When you'd first met him in the vault those few months ago, in the scrubs that seemed three sizes too big for him, he looked like a helpless puppy, his blue eyes so big and excited at what he'd stumbled into - literally. But then, when you saw what he was capable of, both as the Sentry and the Void and your interest in him grew. He was no longer just the sad, helpless puppy but something more intriguing. Someone with layers that you wanted to uncover one at a time.

After first moving to New York and into the Watchtower with the others, there weren't many chances for you two to interact, to get to know each other better. But when it became more and more obvious that he wasn't ready to be sent out into missions with the rest of the team just yet, you came up with the idea of rotating who would stay at home with him. The rest of the team welcomed the idea of it and so, whenever someone wasn't needed for the mission, they'd try and help Bob figure out how to channel his inner Sentry without also summoning the Void with it. Or they'd bake cakes or make dinner for when the others came back.

You'd stayed back with him two times at that point but every time you asked if he wanted to join you for a gym session or for a swim in the new pool, he'd come up with excuses. Saying he'd sprained his ankle the last time he was working out with Bucky or that he'd just done his daily laps in the morning and was looking forward to reading that one book he didn't have the chance to get to yet. The first time around, you figured he was just a little anti-social and needed some more time to get comfortable but then you heard about how Yelena had gotten him to punch the punching bag so forcefully that it came off the hinges and flew to the other side of the gym and how even Walker could convince him to try some new technique to compartmentalise.

When he declined your invitation to watch a movie the second time you stayed behind, you grew weary, scared that you'd done something wrong or that he just simply didn't like you at all. That the interest you had in him wasn’t reciprocated. But, seeing him blush at the sight of you all dolled up set the tiny bit of hope you still had ablaze once more. On the way to the bar, you caught yourself disengaging from the conversation, coming up with ideas or ways to get him on his own, hoping that he’d be more forthcoming once he had a drink or two in him.

~~~

The feeling of arms slipping around your waist brought you back to the bar and to the song you were mindlessly singing along to. Hands were moving down to your waist, holding onto you as you swayed your hips from side to side. Your eyes travelled down your figure, thinking that maybe it was one of the guys playing a trick on you but then you didn't recognise the tattoos winding up the left forearm and into the rolled up sleeves. Your head turned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of you had come up behind you but you couldn’t quite make out who it was, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Looking around for the girls, you saw that Ava and Yelena had gone back over to the bar, probably to get you guys some drinks. Also sitting at the bar, you made out Walker, Bob and Bucky - the latter engaged in a conversation with some girl desperately trying to get his number from the way she pushed her phone into his direction, a bright smile on her lips, despite the restrained expression on his face and him shaking his head repeatedly, pushing her phone back every time it made contact with his chest. 

Wildly gesticulating with every fiber of his being, Walker was talking to Bob, who was staring into the glass in front of him. You weren’t sure if he was just lost in thought or if he had one too many was getting overwhelmed by the loud music and people pushing past him in the crowded bar, his face inattentive to what Walker was talking about and his shoulders slumped. His gaze wandered over to you, as if he’d felt your eyes on him, and then to the guy behind you, his jaw clenching tightly. Just as quickly as his eyes had met yours, they were back on the remnants of whatever drink he had been musing before, his knuckles turning white in the dim light.

The arms around your hip pulled you back, bringing your attention back to the dancefloor, and you felt a very clammy shirt press into your shoulders before the smell of cheap alcohol mixed with even cheaper breath mints filled your nostrils. Your whole body tensed, when the guy’s right hand travelled back up your side and stopped just under your breast for a second, before moving to the front and up to your neck.

"Hey, Mama, you alone here," the voice slurred questioning, hot breath hitting your ear and neck, and sending goosebumps down your body. His hand was slowly wrapping around your neck and made you turn your head again. Out the corner of your eye, you could clock the name tag on his shirt, making out ‘Sam’ written in cursive stitches.

Feeling your throat close up from the stinging aroma of the cheap liquor he must've bathed in, you tried to push Sam’s arms off of your body, scratching at his skin. But his grip didn’t budge one bit, only growing tighter, his nails digging in through the fabric of your dress and into your neck.

Your desperate pleas for him to let go of you seemed to be useless, lost to the loud music coming from the speakers in every corner of the dance floor. But you couldn't get anything out above a feeble whisper, tears brimming in your eyes while snippets of the last time you went to a bar raced through your brain.

"Why are you so tense? Let's have some fun, baby," Sam pushed and started to grind into you from behind, his dick getting harder with every move, pressing into your behind.

Again, you looked around for the rest of the team, hoping someone would notice your struggle and come over to help. But Ava and Yelena were nowhere to be seen, and Walker must’ve gone out to get some fresh air with Bucky because they weren’t where you had last seen them either. The only team member you could still make out was Bob, sitting at the bar with his back turned to you, waving down the bartender for another drink.

Realising you were on your own in this one, you tried to turn around, to get some leverage on him and were just able to turn your face away when he leant down and tried to press a kiss to your lips. 

“I told you to leave me be,” you repeated forcefully, your flat hand landing on his cheek in a satisfying slap.

An urgent cry left your mouth, then, and the force behind your shove grew stronger, pushing Sam away from you and making him lose his balance. He stumbled back a step or two before he caught himself again, glaring at you.

He pushed up his sleeves again and started to come at you, an evil sneer on his face.

"What's your fucking problem, bitch,” he spat and looked you up and down, stepping closer slowly.

“You dress like that, and then you turn into a prude when -"

He was cut off short when a fist met his jaw and threw him into the people surrounding you, a tooth and a spray of blood flying from his mouth. You looked at who had landed that blow, still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

To your right, there stood Bob, his mouth hanging open a bit and his eyes glowing a dangerous golden colour. You hadn't noticed him getting up from the bar and coming over, but you were deeply grateful for him doing so, scared of what would've happened if he hadn't stepped in.

When he realised what he'd done, he shook his head slightly, the blue returning to his eyes once more, and he got ready to fight. With his fists raised in front of his face, he waited for the other guy to get back up again.

“What do you want, you limp noodle of a man, huh? You just got lucky with that one, fella.” The other guy pointed at Bob before spitting blood onto the light-up dance floor and cracking his neck, walking up to Bob. When he was still a few steps from him, Bob threw another punch, this time with even more force behind it and knocking Sam right out. There was a dark air around him, blackness enveloping his fist and travelling up his arm right before your eyes.

“She told you to leave her alone, asshat,” the Void growled, his voice several shades darker than that of Bob.

Looking at the limp figure before him for a split second, the Void went back in, throwing punch after punch, the black hand glistening from what must have been even more blood. Scared of what he’d do to Sam, you tried pulling Bob off of him, whispering into his ear that it was enough and for him to come back to you.

“Bob, please. He’s down already”, you begged and finally got enough strength to drag him away. Cupping his face, you tried to get Bob to focus on you and the black started to recede from his arms, his bloody hand cradling your face in return. It took a moment for the blue to return to his eyes again, for his jaw to unclench and the deep frown to relax a little.

"Are you ok, [y/n]?” Bob’s voice had gotten softer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of lasting harm. 

"Yeah, I think I just need some fresh air," you murmured and held onto his shirt, your legs feeling like jell-o all of a sudden.

Bob wrapped a protective arm around your back when he felt you dip against his stature and pulled you closer, his eyes going to somewhere behind you. He gulped loudly and you looked over your shoulder at what he’d seen.

"You two!" The security guard pointed at you and Bob, and then motioned for you to get out of there.

"Congrats, you just earned yourself a no-return ticket out of this bar," the guard added, and Bob started sputtering, trying to argue about how Sam had started it, how he was just trying to protect you and that Sam should be the one getting kicked out of the bar instead. Picking up the bloody mess that the Void had turned Sam into, the security guard started for the door, looking over his shoulder as if waiting for us to follow him.

"Oh, don't worry, he's going with you!" The guard pushed Bob towards the back exit, Bob's shoulders slumping a little before making his way out of the group of onlookers, pulling you with him by the hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, trying not to lose him while pushing through the mass.

"Our friends are still inside," you tried when you got outside, but the security guard wouldn't have any of it, telling you 'life sucks' and 'better luck next time' while propping Sam up against the wall of the back alley. Without another word, he made for the back entrance before the door fell shut on him, and then disappeared into the turmoil inside the bar.

Looking around the dark alleyway, Bob scoffed before turning towards you, an angry look on his face.

"What a dick!"

You just shrugged your shoulders and felt tears well up in your eyes again, the shock of the situation wearing down and the fear taking over once more. When you tugged at his hand, Bob looked down, realising he was holding your hand, fingers intertwined, and let go before scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry, I didn't realise..."

He wiped his hands on his shirt, the blood staining the white shirt he was wearing under the flannel, and apologised again. When the first tears started to roll down your cheeks, a sob left your mouth and pulled his gaze back to you. His eyes widened in shock and his jaw went slack again, his brows knitting together in a regretful frown.

"Oh, no... I didn't mean to... [y/n], please don't cry..." He came up to you and cupped your cheeks, looking into your eyes deeply before wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I'm sorry... I just get really clammy hands whenever I feel... overwhelmed… And well, the blood and all…"

The embrace was warm, his arms feeling like a protective blanket wrapping around you, shielding you from any more harm. You sidled up to him, relishing in the comfort the hug offered against the cold air of night-time New York in early December. You stayed wrapped in his arms for a second, silent tears rolling down your cheeks while you tried to gather yourself, listening to the faint sound of his heart beating rapidly.

When you heard the groggy groans of the figure behind you, you tensed again and looked up at Bob, his face breaking further when he saw your tear-stained cheeks.

"Can you please get me out of here," you begged, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he nodded quickly before letting one arm fall down from its place around your frame and cupping your cheek.

"Yeah, sure. Just tell me where to," he affirmed, wiping away the latest tears with the pad of his thumb. When he realised that you were shivering, he shimmied out of his flannel, wrapping it around your shoulders and mumbling ‘here, this should keep you warm’ under his breath.

"Just take me home, please." You pulled the soft fabric around you tighter, the warm scent of cedarwood and vanilla mixed with his own warm smell enveloping your senses.

He nodded again and turned towards the exit of the alleyway, his right arm wrapping around your shoulder again while he led you towards the main street.

~~~

You guys spent the first few minutes of your walk in silence, not sure how to make conversation after what had happened.

That was until you were stood at a red light and Bob turned towards you, his arm having fallen from around you a few blocks ago.

"I'm sorry, I got us kicked out of the bar," he apologised and put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, the uneasy look from earlier making its way back onto his face, knitting his eyebrows together and making him pull his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You really seemed to have a good time until that fucker turned up," Bob went on and you shrugged, the fun from earlier already a distant memory in the racing tornado of thoughts wreaking havoc in your mind.

"It was alright", your voice was low and you kicked at the burger wrapping left behind on the sidewalk, hoping you'd be able to boot the haunting images of past trauma away with it.

"Maybe it's stupid, but I kinda wanted to dance with you up there", Bob admitted, looking off towards the traffic light on the other side of the crossing. 

His fingers were mindlessly fidgeting with the brand label at the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit you had observed so often when you were around him. When his gaze met yours, the small smile playing on his lips sent butterflies to your stomach, a warmth you hadn't felt in ages rushing up your arms and down your back.

"You looked really beautiful, you know. In the lights, lost to the music. Like you were somewhere else entirely and you didn't have a care in the world", he added, a chuckle at the end of his sentence, and his eyes sparkled, reflecting the cool light of the headlights lining the street.

"I would have liked that", you admitted, offering him a warm smile in return before turning your attention to the changing traffic light indicating you were allowed to cross the street.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed that for long though,” he replied, chuckling to himself again, before looking over to where you were walking by his side. “I am a really terrible dancer. Like… I’ve totally got two left feet. Just the thought makes me feel sorry for your toes.”

He struck a pose and wiggled his butt to imaginary music when he reached the sidewalk, looking over his shoulder at you with his bottom lip between his teeth and trying his best to look seductive.

This had you laughing loudly then, holding onto his arm for support and putting your head against his shoulder, your eyes closing in appreciation.

“Thank you! I really needed that right now, Bob,” you got out between laughs and grinned up at him, the butterflies in your stomach making you feel like you were 14 all over again.

“Always at your service, m’lady.” He bowed and winked at you before continuing his way down the street, pulling you with him by the hand.

~~~

“Ok, so, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, but how about we put on some music after and have that dance party”, you suggested, walking through the elevator doors and looking over your shoulder at Bob, who had an easy smile on his face, his cheek a healthy shade of pink from all the laughing.

He put his arms out and grabbed a hold of the lapelles of the flannel you were still wearing, pulling you back closer to him before wrapping his arms around your frame in a tight hug. You snuggled up to him, ignoring the bloody streaks on his shirt and buried your head against his chest.

“What’s that for,” you asked, looking up at him from under your lashes and trying to keep yourself from blushing at the softness in his eyes.

“I just felt like hugging you, that’s all,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “You looked so cuddly in the dim light, wrapped up in my flannel.”

The words left his mouth quietly, barely above a whisper and when he realised he’d said it aloud, his eyes grew wide, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in a thick gulp. After trying to find the right words to reply to this and coming up empty, you pushed up on your tiptoes and put a quick kiss on his cheek. Scared you took it too far, you wriggled out of the embrace and turned to the general direction of your bedroom, leaving Bob standing near the elevator, his fingers repeatedly running over the spot that you had just kissed, his eyes glued to where you had just stood and his mouth opening and closing rapidly.

“Remember, dance party in the living room in ten minutes,” you yelled over your shoulder and vanished in your bedroom.

~~~

You connected your phone to the speakers in the living room, sneaking up to Bob sitting on the couch and wrapped your arms around his neck, a giant grin playing at your lips.

“Ready to dance, Bob,” you whispered in his ear cheekily, drawing out his name and letting your hands run down his chest while your towel dried hair fell around you.

He grabbed your wrists and pulled you over the back of the couch swiftly, making you land with your head in his lap, his hand quickly moving to your hip to keep you from rolling off the couch.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he joked and pulled you up with him, his arm wrapped around you and letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

“Well, if you dance anything like what you showed me down on that street corner, I’m in for a hell of a time.” You pulled your phone from the pocket of the shorts you had gotten into after the shower and looked through your playlist for a good song to start with.

“Here, I think this will be a good one,” you mumbled, choosing ‘Me because of You’ by the Faim, and wiggled your eyebrows at him playfully, when the song started playing over the speakers.

 “Ok, I think I can work with this,” he said, nodding his head and moving the coffee table off to the side to make more room for us to have fun. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck, starting with a simple step-touch and moving his shoulders to the beat of the song.

You studied him for a second, suddenly a little scared of what he might think of you if you just let loose and have fun. He motioned for you to come closer and you followed his request, stepping closer and trying to keep from laughing, when he faked licking his pointer and pinky and smoothing his eyebrows over.

“Come on, you can’t hold back now, [y/n],” he yelled over the music and pulled me closer right when the song said ‘dance with me, feel the beat, follow my lead’. He placed your hands on his shoulders and then put his hands on your waist again, starting to waltz with you for a whole two seconds before both of you burst out laughing.

“You wanted to dance with me. So, dance, love,” he added and moved his body to the beat again.

“I’m nervous,” you confessed, running your hands over the clean shirt he put on while you were in the shower, and looked at him, biting your lip restlessly.

“Close your eyes and just imagine I’m not here. You’re alone in your room where no one can see you. And then do what you do,” he tried, brushing a strand of towel dried hair out of your face.

“If it helps, I can close my eyes, too,” he offered and put his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers.

“Fine,” you grumbled and moved away from him a little, turning your back on him but then looking back over your shoulder to make sure he had his eyes covered.

When you saw that he really wasn’t peeking, you started to move and smiled to yourself, feeling the music take over your body and jumping up and down giddily. After a few seconds, you started to sing along and moved freely, turning around and shimmying your shoulders and nodding your head.

“Are you doing it? Are you dancing,” he asked, still covering his eyes but moving his hips to the beat.

You peeled his hands from his eyes and pulled him into the middle of the carpet, making him stumble over his own feet. He opened one eye, looking at your dancing figure, and you tried to hide the smirk playing at your lips. He joined in with dancing and pursed his lips, concentrating on his moves so as not to stumble over his own feet again.

When the chorus started to play for the last time, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer again, and started swaying with you, his head on top of yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours and then moved away from you, extending his arms before stepping in again. He threw your arms over his shoulders and stepped past you before turning around quickly, to repeat this spiel another time, though instead of simply stepping past you, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, swaying from side to side.

Bob sang along to the words, his voice in your ear as his head dipped down a little and then he spun you around and caught you in his arms again more masterfully than he had led on to believe before.

“Tonight, I’ve changed, yeah. I’m only me because of you.” He put his cheek against yours and hummed happily, picking you up and twirling you around.

When the song had ended, he held you in place, your forehead resting against his. His gaze was moving back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his breath having grown a little shallow. You could feel his hand travel up your side and then caress your cheek, his face coming closer until you could feel his shallow breath on your lips, the tips of your noses just millimeters away from each other.

Expecting him to close the last bit of distance, you closed your eyes and turned your head upwards a little, your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The moments until he finally put his lips to yours felt like an eternity, millions of thoughts running through your brain, the anticipation of what it’d feel like to kiss him raising goosebumps across your body. When he finally closed the distance and kissed you, his lips were soft, moving against yours slowly at first and then you deepened the kiss, moving your hand to the back of his head. Your other hand ran up his chest, feeling his pecs flex under your touch. 

When your teeth sank into his bottom lip, he let out a soft moan and you slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring it carefully and moving your tongue in sync with his. His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and he moved you back over to the couch, letting you drop into his lap when the couch hit the back of his legs and he sat down.

You straddled him, your left arm wrapping around him to hold onto the backrest to keep you from falling into him, while your right hand ran through the hair at the back of his head, pulling on it softly, when one of his hands moved up the outside of your thigh to your hip.

He pulled away from you for a second, trying to catch his breath, his mouth hanging open a little while he searched your eyes for any sign of regret. When he couldn’t find any but instead realised that your mouth had split into a bright smile, he chuckled cheerfully and kissed you again hungrily.

With the kisses getting more and more heated, you started grinding into him, the aching need for feeling him closer growing in the pit of your stomach. When you rolled your hips a little extra hard, he groaned deeply and the grip of his hand on your hip grew stronger, a pleasant pain running up your spine and making you throw your head back.

His lips went to your neck, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin and then he started sucking on the pulse point underneath your ear, biting and licking and driving you into overdrive. The fingers buried in his hair pulled on his locks and his growing bulge started to rub up against you just the right way when he bucked his hips in response.

“We… should probably…”, he started in between kisses and you nodded mindlessly, trying to get as much friction from grinding down into him harder. 

“Fuck, [y/n], ok, wait…” He stopped you from moving your hips by wrapping his arm around you and pulling you impossibly close, and then made you look him in the eyes before going on: “I can’t do it like this… If I have you, I want all of you.”

You gulped at this, realising he wasn’t joking and felt your jaw go slack.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I will not let this be how I have you for the first time.” His thumb caressed your cheek and he kissed you softly, his forehead falling to yours, probably fighting the urge to just have you right then and there.

“Then take me to your room, Bob,” you mumbled breathlessly when he pulled away again, nuzzling your face with his in a love-drunken state. You placed soft kisses all over his face, earning a little chuckle from him, when you moved down to his neck, his head falling back to give you more room to work with.

“[y/n], god, you drive me crazy,” he moaned and let his hands slip underneath your shirt, sending shivers down your spine from the tiny sparks his touch left on your skin. Letting out a ‘mh-hm’ in response, you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and kissed him again, your tongue slipping into his mouth easily.

His hands went down your back and held onto your ass when he picked you up in one smooth motion, your legs wrapping around his hips to gain more stability. Your arms snaked around his neck and a chuckle escaped your mouth when he stumbled over the couch on his way out of the living room, holding you in space with one arm while he steadied himself.

“How about we stop kissing until we’re actually in your bedroom,” you joked and he nodded, telling you ‘that’s a good idea’ before making his way over to his bedroom, his steps quick and assertive.

“Wait, we still have to turn off the music,” you realised when you were halfway down the hallway and Bob stopped dead in his tracks, sighing heavily. He looked back over his shoulder and you could see the cogs work behind his eyes, trying to decide what to do.

“Ok, you go turn off the music and I’ll get everything ready?”

Setting you down on the floor, he pecked your lips and then slapped your ass, making you jump a little and hurry back to the living room. You made quick work of turning off the music and grabbing your phone, eager to get back to Bob and what you were doing, running back down the hallway to where his bedroom was. Sliding in through the door, you stopped when you saw that Bob was on the phone with someone, holding up a finger to you just as you wanted to ask what was wrong.

“Oh, no, y’all can stay out longer. No… No. [y/n] wasn’t feeling too hot, so I took her home.” He looked at the floor for a second, scratching his head while trying to understand Yelena over the thumping music on the other side of the line. “I think she’s sleeping already. No… I don’t think she’ll mind! Go have fun, you guys,” he added and then ended the call after telling Yelena goodbye.

“Is everything ok,” you enquired, walking up to him and putting your phone on his desk, the screen lighting up and showing you had a couple of missed calls from Yelena and Ava. He matched you and put his phone down next to yours, before turning back to you and searching your face for a second.

“Yeah, they were just worried where we went and because they couldn’t reach us earlier.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and brushing the hair from the slope of your neck, adding a ‘so, where were we’ before running his fingers over the soft skin under your chin.

“Are they coming back already?” You asked, your head falling back when Bob started to kiss your neck.

“No, there’s this party at another bar they wanna check out.” He bit your neck playfully and then nuzzled the side of your face, telling you that the two of you should be in the clear for the next few hours. He picked you up again and walked over to his bed, dropping you in the middle of the mattress before climbing onto the mattress and kneeling down between your legs.

“Next few hours? What do you have planned,” you asked cheekily, your hands working on taking off his shirt.

“I’m gonna take my time with you, love,” he replied, helping you to get him out of his shirt and kissing you passionately.

Your fingertips ran over his abs and up into his hair again and you pulled him down with you, moaning when his hips settled between yours like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.

“God, you sound so good when you moan,” he whined desperately, his hand caressing your cheek and then running through your hair. “You sound so much better than I could ever imagine.”

“You imagined how I’d sound?” Your voice was barely a whisper, too much anticipation and desire clouding your brain already. The building tension in your core was painful at this point and you could feel your arousal gathering between your legs.

“More often than I’d like to admit, yes.” His kisses were growing hungrier with every passing second, his hands running down your sides, pulling at the fabric of your shirt and digging into the bare skin of your legs. He wanted to feel your skin and memorise every inch of it, having wanted to touch you for months now.

“What did you picture,” you asked, flipping you over and straddling his hips again, pulling your shirt over your head and grinding your hips into his rhythmically. His eyes were wandering over your torso, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he sat up and wrapped his arms around you to work on undoing your bra. When he’d opened the clasp in the back, he slipped the straps down your shoulders, kissing the freckles that dusted your skin there.

“The way you’d sound… How you’d taste…” He pulled your face closer, his fingers on your chin, and placed his lips on yours again, this time slow and deep. His other hand came up to your right breast and cupped it, running his thumb over your nipple hardening from the relative cold in the room. “How you’d look taking me. The way your face breaks when I make you cum…”

He bucked his hips, his clothed erection pushing up into your clit and you gasped, running your fingernails over his abs, your head falling forwards to rest on his shoulder. You moved your hips with his, the layered fabric of your shorts and panties rubbing up against your core with every thrust of his hips. It had been a while since you last were intimate with someone, so you could already feel the knot in your lower stomach begin to tighten, your breath hitching when Bob’s tongue licked over your sensitive nipple before taking your breast into his mouth.

Your hand travelled further south and you lifted your hips, dipping your fingers into the waistband of his joggers, realising he wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath when you made contact with his hot skin. Trying to meet his eyes, you lifted your eyebrows in surprise and he shrugged, letting go of your breast with a popping sound.

“Hey, a guy can hope, right,” he tried to defend himself and smirked at you, when you pushed him down onto the mattress, while your other hand slipped into his joggers fully and wrapped around his hard length. He was bigger than you’d imagined, thicker too, and at the thought of having him inside of you, your pussy started to ache deliciously and eager.

You pumped your hand up his length slowly and his eyes rolled up into his head, his jaw hanging open slightly, a string of curses and whines leaving his mouth. Seeing him enjoy your touch this much, sent you into overdrive, and you moved off his legs, pulling down his joggers with you, before throwing them to the other corner of his room. His erection sprang free and you took in the sight before you, Bob leaning on his elbows, completely naked and looking sexier than you ever dreamt up.

Running your hands through your hair, you felt your cheeks heat up and hid your face in your hands, chuckling to yourself for a second.

“What? [y/n], what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong,” he asked, worry evident in his voice while he moved to sit up a little, his hands on your shoulders.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you started and took a deep breath, letting your hands fall from your face and meeting his eyes. “It’s just been a while and I… Well, I didn’t think I’d ever end up in this situation,” you added, your eyes darting over the smile lines appearing around his eyes and the dimple in his right cheek. “I think, it just hit me that this is happening, you know?”

He nodded, understanding you perfectly well, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kissed you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he laid you down gently, settling between your legs. You deepened the kiss, running your left hand through his dark locks while your right hand travelled down his back and settled on his hips. You wrapped one of your legs around his hip and smiled into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his skin on your own.

“Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And we can take our time, there’s no rush. Not tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting on yours between soft kisses.

“I want you, Bob,” you whispered, searching his eyes, the blue of them having darkened by lust. “I want all of you.”

His face split into a bright grin and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck, hiding his own nervousness by peppering your skin with kisses again. His left hand moved down your side and to the leg wrapped around his hip as he angled his hip a little, his erection brushing up against your core again. You moaned softly and tried to meet him better, your leg snaking around him more tightly.

“If we’re really gonna do this, then we’re gonna do this right,” Bob said, his voice darker than before and sending shivers down your spine.

He pulled away from you, his fingertips moving to the waistband of your shorts and he pulled them down your legs, your panties coming off with them. Bob tossed them over to where his joggers had landed and spread your legs slowly, taking you in and biting on his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling in the dim light from his bedside lamp. He let his fingers dance over the inside of your legs, drawing loose shapes on your skin from your ankles up to your hips and then grabbed one of his pillows from above your head. You lifted your hips and he put the pillow under your ass, settling between your legs and looking at you intently from under his lashes.

“You sure you wanna do this? You can say no or stop me at any time,” he assured you and you nodded, biting down on the knuckle of your index finger in anticipation, butterflies making somersaults in your tummy. He lowered his head and blew on you, earning himself a low whimper from you, the air feeling cold against your wet pussy. He ran a finger up between your folds and chuckled, sending vibrations through your core from how close his mouth was to your center.

“God, you’re already so wet and I haven’t even done anything.”

His finger slipped into your vagina with ease and the squelching sound that was heard by him pulling it out again, made the blush on your cheeks deepen. He pushed his finger back in and then curled it, making you moan his name loudly as he brushed your g-spot. He repeated this a couple of times while his tongue ran along the outside of your folds, slowly making its way inwards. When he finally ran the tip of his tongue up your folds and flicked your clit, your hips bucked, another moan falling from your lips, having him hum in response.

“You taste so good, babe.” He lapped at you and then slowed down again, the tip of his tongue circling your clit and then flicking it with a masterful tab, sending sparks up your spine and making your toes curl. Your fingers buried into his locks again and you pulled on them, pulling him closer in an attempt to get even more friction.

“Mhm, do you like that,” he asked, meeting your gaze and smirking cheekily.

“Yeah, feels good, Bob,” you moaned, your head falling back down and your eyes rolling back when he removed his finger from your hole and circled your pussy with the tip of his tongue. Then, he added another finger up, running them through your folds and back down towards your vagina before thrusting them in, this time a little more forcefully.

You yelped in surprise and pulled on his hair, your legs going a little numb. He waited to move his fingers for a second, looking down at how his fingers had disappeared in you completely and then pulled them back out a bit, curling the same way he did before, brushing over your g-spot again. When he’d found a good rhythm that had you breathing heavily, the knot tightening in your stomach, he put his mouth on you again and pushed you over the edge, your toes curling while your legs tensed around his head. One of your hands left his head to move to the bedsheets, gripping it hard as pleasure rushed over your body like a tidal wave.

“Fuck, Bob, you feel so good.”

You were writhing under him, Bob relentlessly licking up your juices while you clawed at his shoulders and rode the highs of the orgasm coursing through your body. The wet noises of his fingers pumping in and out of you filled your ears and you felt another wave of the orgasm rain down on you when his teeth scraped over your sensitive nub before flicking it again with his tongue. You could feel your walls clamp down around his fingers and then heard him chuckle deeply, before his arm pushed down on your hips, keeping you in place.

He kept at it, fingering you and eating you out, only coming up from between your legs when you started to come down from the high, your breath still rushed and shallow. You ran your hand through your hair, and looked at him, moving up your body, his lips glistening from your arousal and his spit mixed together. He put his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off of them, closing his eyes in ecstasy and the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smile, after he pulled his fingers out again.

“God, that was so hot,” he breathed, putting his lips to yours and kissing you hungrily. You nodded, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand ran down his torso and wrapped around his length again, your thumb wiping over his tip and feeling the sticky precum leaking out of him. With your brain still hazy from your recent orgasm, you pushed him down onto the mattress and started peppering kisses on his neck, moving down to his clavicle and his chest, the nails of your free hands scratching over his chest, while the other one pumped his length slowly.

When you were on the same level with his dick, you looked up at him and opened your mouth, taking him in as far as you could, your hand still wrapped around the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth anymore. You started bobbing your head up and down his length and his fingers ran through your hair, his hand cupping the back of your head and aiding you in keeping an enjoyable rhythm, while whines and moans fell from his lips.

“Oh, fuck. You’re better than I ever imagined,” he whined, his hips bucking and his dick hit the back of your throat. 

Your eyes travelled back up his figure and you opened your mouth a little further, trying to take more of him. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes and your own arousal started running down the inside of your leg, so you moved your free hand to your clit, rubbing yourself while sucking him off.

After a couple more bobs of your head, Bob groaned loudly, his hips tensing and his grip on your hair getting harder. His cum spilled onto your tongue and you swallowed it, humming in enjoyment, while continuing the motion of your hand pumping up and down his length. Feeling another orgasm approaching from your own fingers between your legs, you moaned, some residual cum of his running out the corner of your mouth and dripping on his length.

Biting down on your lips, you looked up at him, his mouth hanging open at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He motioned for you to come closer, pushing your hand away from between your legs to take over while pulling you into his lap again. You rested your head against his shoulder, while his fingers were drawing circles around your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. You could feel that you were getting overstimulated already and whined, wanting to get the release you so desperately needed. Pulling his lips to yours and kissing him hungrily, you moved your hips a little to meet his touch, his fingers slipping into you once more while the pad of thumb brushed up against your clitoris.

“Bob, don’t stop. Please, I’m so close,” you whined, your face falling at the pressure building in your core.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he whispered into your ear and nibbled on your earlobe, thrusting his fingers into you deeper and curling them on their way out.

Feeling his tongue lick over your pulse point was enough to make you fall over the edge again, his fingers brushing your g-spot again and again, sparks flying between your bodies. Your nails dug into his back and you rode his fingers, moaning his name at the top of your lungs.

“God, I love it when you moan my name like that.” 

He put you back down on the mattress, knowing you’d need the support of the bed beneath you, your legs having turned to jelly and shaking from all of the stimulation. Your chest was rising and falling quickly while you tried to catch your breath, absolutely exhausted from two big orgasms so close together.

“Do you need a little break,” he asked, laying down next to you and running his fingers up and down your sides. You turned your head toward his and the look on his face was so soft, caring and full of love, making your heart ache at being the object of his adoration. You nodded, still unable to form words, the last after waves of your orgasm having your ears ringing and your fingertips feeling numb.

Bob pulled you a little closer, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead, and placed soft kisses all over your face, telling you how beautiful you were. How lucky he was to be here with you at that moment. How he never thought this would actually happen.

“You know, I thought you didn’t like me,” you told him, your voice still barely a whisper, your fingers starting to draw circles on his chest while his fingertips did the same on your shoulder blade. “That you didn’t want to spend time with me when the others were gone because you secretly hated me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone as much as I like you,” he said softly, his hand cupping your face and making you look at him, before going on: “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I hated you, but it is clearly the very opposite.”

He kissed you then, softly and with all the love he felt for you. Your lips melted against his and a warmth spread in your chest, creeping up the back of your neck and rolling over your legs and into your tiptoes. This kiss was different, it wasn’t hungry or desperate but still intense in its own way. Even after everything the two of you just did, you felt closer to Bob now, his arms wrapping around you tighter and flipping you on your back again, your legs intertwined lazily and his broad chest like a shield keeping you safe.

You stayed like that for a little while then, making out and exploring each other’s body slowly, your touch soft and meaningful, as if you wanted to memorise every inch of the other’s figure. You couldn’t say how long you were just lying there, enjoying each other’s presence and forgetting everything around you. It could’ve been five minutes or it could’ve been an hour but it didn’t matter to you because you were right where you wanted to be. Wrapped in his arms, having his lips on yours and feeling his delicate touch on your body.

His lips ran over your shoulders, dusting the freckles with love, while your lips grazed his collarbone, your fingers gripping his ass cheeks and earning you a high pitched giggle from him.

“Are you ticklish,” you enquired, a cheeky smirk on your lips and he shook his head vigorously, trying to push your hands off of him.

“No, of course I’m not ticklish. What makes you think that?” He rolled his eyes and tried to put a little distance between you two, his hands swatting at you trying to poke his sides.

“I don’t know. That very manly giggle that just slipped past your lips, maybe,” you teased and his jaw dropped, so threw yourself at him playfully, making him lose his balance and taking you down with him.

“I don’t know what you're talking about. What giggle?” He grinned up at you and cupped your cheek, pulling you down to him and kissing you again passionately.

With your leg thrown over his hip, you could feel him getting hard again and you moved your hips, straddling him once more. You purred softly at his length pressing up against your folds and instinctively grinded down on him, coating the underside of his dick in your arousal. Bob’s hand gripped your hip and he stopped you from moving for a second.

“Wait, I’ve got condoms in the drawer over there,” he murmured, motioning to his bedside table, and his voice broke when you rolled your hips into his again.

“I’m on the pill, so,” you started, kissing him quickly and then added: “I’m good either way.”

He looked at you and for a second, his brows knitted together in a frown. He let his thumb run over your bottom lip and you stopped moving, lifting your hips a little before leaning over to his bedside table.

“I just wanna make sure nothing unexpected happens, you know,” he started to explain and you looked over your shoulder, opening the drawer slowly.

“Bob, hey. It’s ok, really!” Your hand looked for the packet of condoms and took one out when you found it, before turning back to him. “I’m glad you wanna be safe, love.” You cupped his cheek and smiled at him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

You opened the shiny packaging and took out the condom, turning it over in your fingers to have it the right way around. Pinching the tip of it, you looked at Bob and asked him if he was ready. When he nodded, inching closer to you, you grabbed his length and put the condom on, pushing the rubbery material down his length easily. His hand came up to caress your cheek and he kissed you softly, his fingers burying in the hair at the back of your head while you climbed onto him, straddling his hips again.

With your hand still wrapped around his length, you guided his dick along your folds and then lowered onto it, moaning at the burning sensation of his thickness stretching you slowly. Bob’s jaw dropped and he groaned at slipping into you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You stayed there for a second, trying to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up so well and held onto his shoulders before you lifted your hips again slowly. The delicious pain of his size slipping in and out of you made your brain go foggy and you sank down onto him with more ease this time. Picking up the pace, you threw your head back and rode Bob’s dick, his right hand on your breast, kneading the tissue while his tongue worked on the nipple of your other breast. His left hand was on your hip, guiding you as you took him.

“Mhm, you fill me up so well, Bob,” you mused and bounced on him, the pain having turned to pleasure a few thrusts ago. His mouth let go of your breast and he pulled your face down, kissing you hungrily and he bucked his hips into yours and slipping in deeper with the next thrust, bottoming out. You moaned into his mouth loudly and let a giggle fall over your lips as you noticed the familiar feeling of your orgasm nearing.

He stopped moving for a second and turned you around, so you were beneath him and then he grabbed your right leg and moved it from around his hips to have it over his shoulder instead, changing the angle at which he thrusted into you.

Bob groaned against your mouth as he bottomed out again, his balls slapping against your ass with the next thrust and you let out a moan of his name, your nails digging into his back.

“Ugh, you’re so tight, babe. Feel so good,” he slurred and went to town on you, thrusting in and pulling back out, his bed groaning under his movements.

“You gotta tell me if I’m too rough,” he whispered into your ear, enveloping you with his form and leaning on his elbow while his other hand held onto your leg.

“No, it’s good. So good, Bob,” you assured, relishing in the feeling of him filling you up to the brim and stretching you with every thrust. You knew that you were close again, the knot twisting and tightening and you reached between your bodies, your fingers working on your clit while his dick slipped in and out of you at an exquisite pace.

He looked down at where your bodies met and whined, his forehead falling to yours. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room and you were glad that the rest of the team was still out, fearing just how much they would’ve been able to hear of what you two were doing.

“[y/n], fuck, you feel so good. I don’t know how much longer I can…” The movement of his hips got a little sloppy and you kissed him again, steadying him with a hand on his ass while you tried to meet his thrusts with your hip.

“It’s ok, babe. Come, Bob. I’m right behind you,” you purred into his ear and his hips stuttered, a low groan falling from his lips. You moved your hips, helping him ride out his orgasm and kissed his closed lids, when he suddenly thrusted into you harder again, pushing you closer and over the edge.

You fell with him, your third orgasm of the night sending lighting through your whole body. You clung to his body, biting into his shoulder and scratching your nails over his back, earning a wince from him at the pain that seemed to send him into a flurry. Your walls clenched around him as your orgasm progressed and he put his lips on your neck, riding out your shared orgasm, his breathing quick and shallow.

When he came down from his high, he sighed, an exhausted but gratified look on his face, and laid down next to you. You curled up to him, throwing your arm over his chest and putting your head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart and his quick breath.

“Did I hurt you?” The question came suddenly and you looked at him, confused at where the concern was coming from.

“Why are you asking?”

“This was my first time since the medical trial,” he started and turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around your hip.

“No, you didn’t hurt me, Bob. Quite the opposite, actually.” You caressed his cheek and kissed him softly, before adding: “I enjoyed it very much, if you couldn’t tell.”

A proud smile pushed up the corners of his mouth and he shook his head, chuckling lightheaded.

“God, you’re an incredible woman, [y/n].”

[quarterlifekitty]

Lord!Johnny who detests the lot he’s drawn in life. He has no patience for propriety, for decorum. He just wants to be free— that’s all. To enjoy life and live without worry. He doesn’t realize how good he has it.

He fools around with you, one of the ladies in waiting, a respected member of the royal court. Cornering you in empty halls to kiss your neck and ruck his hands through your skirts.

You don’t want to deny him. Having his attention is nice. But you’ve told him before that you want to be courted properly— for this to be real.

And scoffs. Isn’t this real enough? You enjoy each other. That’s not anyone else’s business. Why ruin a good thing by playing some silly dating game for the pleasure of everyone else in the court? He likes things the way they are— free and easy. Enjoying you without any of the harsh expectations.

Enter Lord Riley, who was not born into this life. He earned his title, his lands, everything— through tears, sweat, and bloodshed in service of the crown. Men of such valiance are often offered to choose their reward, and he wants to be able to court any lady of his choosing. The other ladies are terrified— his skull mask and brooding demeanor, the lives he ended— not to mention the knowledge that he’s common born.

You don’t particularly care. Men have their reasons for doing such things. And you’ve found men born into wealth and titles are nothing spectacular themselves. So it should come as no surprise that he picks you out. And it seems he’s done his research.

Despite not being much for conversation, he is a perfect gentleman. You wonder if he would’ve treated a peasant girl so gently— and you have the feeling he would. He meets you at least once a week, has tea brought to the garden for you to sit with him. Your first kiss is in the hedge maze, backdropped by rose bushes. His hold on your waist was firm— like you were something he couldn’t bear to lose.

Needless to say, Johnny isn’t happy. You’ve been turning your nose up at him when he tries to pin you, batting his hands away from your skirts. Doesn’t take him long to find out why.

“So, some bloke with a scary mask waltzes in and suddenly yer done with me? Ah thought we had a good thing going, pigeon—“

“Maybe we did, but I’m not going to fool around while I’m being courted.” You know he hates that word.

“What’s he even got that ah don’t? I make ye feel good, don’t I?”

“He might marry me. That, and a million other reasons.”

“Marriage— what good is that? It’ll just tie ye down, bonnie, ye don’t wan’ that—“

“I do. I’m not like you, Johnny. My fortune won’t care for me forever. Men can get married as they please, but women— I only have so much time before no one wants me. Don’t you see that? And don’t try to tell me whatever was between us was going to be permanent. You would’ve left just as soon as someone else turned your head. That’s who you are.”

At the same time Johnny feels his heart start to bleed, Simon puts in a commission with the jeweler.

[ochacoca]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

♫ now playing - the only exception by paramore

bakugou x reader

word count: 1,827 words

IN WHICH each time your friends caught bakugou only being nice to you.

a/n: still 'fool for you' just changed the title (≧ω≦)

“i've never seen him so.. calm.”

“right? he's always so uptight.”

the two friends were peering over the couch as they watched bakugou and y/n sleep soundlessly. there was a serene look drawn on his face while he held y/n closely to him, her hand resting softly on his chest as their chests rose up and down simultaneously.

“how come he's so much nicer to her than any of us?” kirishima complained with a pout stitched on his lips. he'd been friends with bakugou way before (two months) him and y/n got together. where was his special treatment?

“they're dating duh. why wouldn't he be nice to her?” mina replied as gazed at the couple with a soft gaze in her eyes. their young, teenage love was truly admirable.

even if bakugou seemed to have a stick up his ass 24/7.

the couple twitched softly in their sleep. it had been a long and stressful day of endless amounts of training, and lord knew that they both needed a break. a thin blanket was all that covered their bodies, but anybody could make out the way bakugou held her waist and the way y/n laid her hand on his chest underneath the sheet.

the usually quiet library turned into a circus as it filled up with bakugou's grumbling, denki's whines, and y/n's giggling. the sight of bakugou repeatedly smacking denki on the head with rolled up paper was an entertaining sight to distract her from her note-taking.

“are you seriously this stupid?” bakugou growled as he peered over the blonde's notebook, erasing and scribbling over any mistakes he made. denki pouted while rubbing his head on the spot that bakugou smacked. “c'mon.. it's really not that easy!” denki whined.

bakugou's vermillion eyes narrowed at denki. “it's basic algebra! how did you even get this far if you can't do simple math?!” he snapped.

denki continued to pout as he grumbled under his breath, something about bakugou lacking basic respect.

“uh.. katsuki?” y/n called out hesitantly.

though he still kept the glare on his face, the way his body language softened was visible, and how his tone contrasted from denki to her was plain obvious. “what?”

she turned over her notebook towards him so he can see her work. “i think i did it wrong.. can you check it?”

bakugou grabbed her notebook and skimmed over her work. “yeah.. here, let me explain.” he leaned over closer to her, close enough to where she can smell caramel on his skin.

denki's mouth fell agape as he watched how the guy went from raising hell on him to looking like he was practically skipping in a field of flowers inside his head. “that is SO not fair! how come you're so much nicer to her than me?!”

“cause she's not an idiot! keep working!”

it was far past midnight, and it was already one thing that izuku couldn't sleep, but on an empty stomach? it made it far much worse. he tried everything in the book from counting sheep to counting his breaths, but nothing could beat his racing mind and the sound of his stomach growling.

izuku didn't want to disturb anyone, but would it really hurt if he just tip-toed to the common room? he sighed as he ran his hand through his curly green hair, quietly making his way to the kitchen to not wake anyone.

but as he walked through the common room, a taller figure appeared in front of him.

“GAH!” he yelped, hastily smacking a hand over his mouth as he realized how loud he'd screamed. “shoto!” he half-whispered. “what are you doing?!”

todoroki stood still, his expression unwavering. “i couldn't sleep.” his direction turned towards the kitchen. “i wanted to get a snack, but i think someone is in there.” he said.

that's odd. it was almost one in the morning, and the only people that izuku thought could be awake fell asleep ages ago. he asked todoroki who it was but he only shrugged, showing he only heard the person but never checked who it was.

he never thought he'd be met with the sight of bakugou resting his chin on y/n's shoulder as she made them snacks.

“at 12:47 in the morning? that's way past bakugou's bedtime…” todoroki muttered under his breath.

bakugou's tone was softer, softer than anyone had ever heard besides y/n herself. “you better not burn it.” he huffed.

y/n giggled, slightly turning her head to face his side profile. “i'm not going to burn our snacks,” she assured. “i'm an expert.”

“expert my ass.”

“hey!”

izuku and todoroki looked like a deer in headlights looking at the scene before them. they wanted to walk away, believe them, they really did. but the sight of bakugou being so domestic was such a rare and amusing sight to see.

“do we… leave?” izuku suggested.

“i don't know…” todoroki answered. “this is really weird.”

bakugou’s head shot up from her shoulder and turned to look at the two voices faster than the speed of light. his ruby eyes were narrowed as he glared them down as his lips curled. “the hell are you guys doing?”

izuku's hands flapped around in a panic. “w-we were just about to leave! i swear-”

“you're very affectionate, bakugou” todoroki said, as blunt as ever.

“shut up!” he yelled, his face turning as a red as a tomato and his hair puffed up. y/n giggled once again at the dramatic scene that laid in front of her. “do you guys want snacks too?” she offered.

“why are you giving our food to extras?” “suki!”

brutal wasn't even the word to describe today's training session. everyone was curled up on the ground, hands over their stomach as it even hurt to breathe. the sounds that filled the room were heavy breathing and complaints. and y/n— was nowhere to be found.

mina, jirou, and ochaco all wandered the hallways, a worried look etched on their face as they searched for their friend. “i'm really worried about her y'know.” mina was the first one to break the silence.

both girls nodded in agreement.

“so am i,” ochaco said. “she just disappeared right after training ended.”

the trio kept wandering the halls, looking in every corner and every turn where y/n could be hiding.

suddenly, through the glass window, they see their little y/c haired friend sitting on the bench, with her fingers intertwined on her lap and her head hung low.

“there she is!” jirou yelled, quickly running to the nearest door to go outside and get y/n while the other two girls trailed closely behind her.

but something made them stop dead in their tracks. the closer they got to the window, the more they were able to see someone elses silhouette sat next to her.

“is that bakugou?”

bakugou's arm was wrapped securely around y/n's shoulders, intently listening to her rambling about whatever she needed to get off her chest.

“i did really bad today.” she mumbled, her voice filled with sadness and frustration.

“and that’s okay.” bakugou comforted her. “one bad doesn't mean you suck. everyone has bad days.” he reassured her, rubbing light circles on her shoulders.

y/n shrugged, playing and picking at her fingers as they rested on her lap. “i just think i’m weak, y’know?” she mumbled once again.

“you're not- hey. look at me.” bakugou squished her cheeks and turned her head to face his. “stop. you think i'd be talking to you like this if you're so weak? hm?”

“no?” she muffled due to how much bakugou was squishing her face.

“exactly. you're strong, so stop putting yourself down because of one off day and keep training.”

“you're hurting my cheeks.”

bakugou let go of her face, lightly patting her cheeks as an apology. “my point is, one bad day doesn't mean you're weak. think about every other time you've kicked ass.”

y/n laughed softly, her face changing from what looked like a kicked puppy to her usual grin. “thank you suki.” she said.

“this is the cutest thing I've ever seen.” mina whispered while clenching her shirt where her heart is tightly.

“who knew the pomeranian could be such a romantic?” jirou teased as ochaco and mina giggled along side of her.

bakugou lightly ruffled the top of y/n's hair, lightly blushing from the way she looked at him with such a lovestruck glance. “you're strong. don't start with that ‘i'm weak’ shit cause i won't hear it.”

“you're so sweet when you want to be.”

“now you're pushing it.”

“why are you only nice to me?” the question caught katsuki off guard.

the couple had been in y/n's dorm room simply sitting in silence, with their legs entangled together and the light noise of the TV playing in the background.

he turned his head slightly to face her, their eyes meeting instantly as she was already looking at him so softly. “why wouldn't i be?” katsuki questioned as his fingers lightly played with her hair.

y/n shrugged, not having a response to his question. it just seemed out-of-character for him. he was the type of person to not let anyone change him, good or bad.

but the crude boy would come to be a puddle of sap when it came to her. even if it wasn't obvious verbally, the ways his eyes softened when they laid upon her was enough said.

“i asked you a question first.” she retorted.

katsuki exhaled sharply, his gaze turning from her to the ceiling as his heart rate sped up a bit. “you're just.. different.”

y/n's eyebrows raised slightly as a smirk stitched itself onto her face. she scooted closer to katsuki's side, leaning her head on his bicep as she stared lovingly at his side profile. “i'm.. different? there's more to that, isn't there?”

“of course there is. you just don't get to know that stuff right now.”

y/n knew that katsuki wasn't one to talk about his feelings. she wasn't looking to change that. but the simple thought of him just looking at her differently from the rest, like shes the only person in every room, made her heart flutter.

“don't think i'm getting soft though.” katsuki grumbled, an arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer.

“you're just… the only exception.”

©LOOKINGFORURAVITY 2024 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other

TAGLIST: @kaerotica @sweetlike-sugarplum @misfortvne @iridescencefae @awesomesauce-oo @kalulakunundrum

[burningdevotion]

dbf!Joel who cant get enough of your taste and feel / headcanons

a/n: I literally only made this side blog to get this out of my system, so consider this me dropping off a present (smut) at the doorstep of your house (the Joel Miller fandom) before I walk away again lol, hope you like these!!

warnings: nswf, big age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his 50s) it’s mostly filth but kinda romantic too because he’s just drunk on his girl’s juice and who can blame him for being an obsessive lover?

౨ৎ didnt wanna put it in the title but basically: he’s obsessed with your pussy. your cunt. whatever you prefer to call it. he is spell-bound and driven mad by it. every little thing about it.

but let me give you get a bit of backstory first:

౨ৎ your affair started during the last week of your first summer back home from college. you’d known him for years, since he lived right down the street and was your dad’s dearest friend, but only once you werent in high school anymore did you really start caring for him, talking to him like a fellow adult, joining your dad and him for a drink out in the garden every now and then, and soon enough you realized: oh. fuck. he’s hot. really fuckking hot. how did I not realize this before.

౨ৎ he had similar feelings. before you were off age, he’d never even considered your physique in any intense way, he was not the type of guy to leer at teenage girls, especailly not when they were his friends precious girl, but after you’d spent an entire year at college and came back seeming all grown up and confident in your own adult life far away from home, more mature and independent, something switched and he allowed himself to really take a good look at you when you were around, and then all of a sudden realized it: she is perfect. a goddamn dream. oh, I am fucked. I want my best friend’s daughter. desperately. lord help me.

౨ৎ for the entire summer the tension kept rising - you both felt it more each time you saw each other, even when you just passed each other on the street, that chemistry, that pull towards each other, the intrigue, the primal sense of need that no amount of repression could get rid of, like two animals who were destined mates circling each other while trying not to pounce. but it was helpless. a few nights before you had to fly back to your college town, you went over to his place and a harmless "I’m gonna miss you." turned into frantic, sloppy, needy kissing, making out, dry-humping and two hours of the most passionate mindblowing sex you couldve ever imagined, all that pent up need finally bursting out, first on the couch, then in bed, him worshipping your body in every possible way, kissing and grabbing and tasting you all over, making you come over and over without even worrying about his own orgasms, his cock leaking from the second he got the first taste of you, that divine first drop of the juice hed consider his life source from that point on.

౨ৎ from that first night, it blew your mind just how much he loved to taste you. he didnt just eat you out until your legs shook (which he did. merciselly so.) before even thinking of fucking you, he did it again and again during and after sex, whenever you switched positions he took a moment to lap up everything that had leaked out of you while being pounded by him, easing your pretty, swollen, raw lips with slow strokes of his tongue, playing with your clit, rubbing you, marvelling at the delicious sight of your pussy all glistening and pulsating, before putting his cock back inside, always making sure that you were turned on and ready, that he wouldnt hurt you no matter how hard he went - still, he didnt just do it to prep you, he always did it for his own pleasure, always, greedy as hell the way he´d hold you in place with your legs spread apart, making you wait and whimper from the emptiness until hed continue fucking you, cooing at you "shh, lemme get a taste baby, just a lil taste of that sweetness, gonna fill you up again, dont you worry"

౨ৎ from that point on, you ached for each other badly when you were away at college and then reuinted in the most heated, intense way whenever you came back home - for thanksgiving, christmas, spring break, etc. - it always went the same way, you could always tell that he’d been starving so bad for your taste that he nearly came in his pants whenever he started eating you out the first day you were back home, back in his bed. he always ruined you. fully. in the best possible way. he ate you out so eagerly and for so long that you thought you might black out from pleasure.. whimpering and shaking and sweating, drenching the sheets in more ways than one, while you were flat on your back, while you were on your hands and knees and he could eat it from the back, while you were riding his face and soaked his mouth and nose - he was always beyond relieved to finally have you back, the second he ripped your jeans and panties down he always moaned things like "you’ve no idea how much I missed this sweet lil pussy of yours, no fuckin idea, girl, lay back and let me taste you"

౨ৎ whenever he has your legs pressed up and gets ready to slip his length into you, he shamelessly stares down and feels his mouth water and his veins bludging when he watches his cock be swallowed up by your folds, its a sight that drives him fucking wild, that beautiful pussy of yours that he adores so much, always taking him in so easily and perfectly, taking it all without any resistence (because youre always eager, never hestiant or uncomfortable, not with him) - he will stare as he starts building up a ryhthm and struggle to tear his eyes away but your pretty face does the trick: the second you start moaning loudly from his deep strokes, he will look up to you, caressing your face, praising and reassuring you "good girl, taking me so fuckin well.. that feel good babygirl? yeah? like that?"

౨ৎ you told him from the beginning that you were on birth control and tracked your period so he could fuck you raw - especially when you werent ovulating - but he refused, too paranoid about even the slightest chance of getting you pregnant, but. it was only a matter of time. one time, in the middle of it, when you were already three orgasms in and a soaking needy mess, he couldn’t take it anymore and took the condom off before he begged you "come here baby, sit on my lap, ride it nice n slow, make a pretty mess, wanna feel it all” wayyy too eager, throbbing so hard he almost passed out when you took him in and he could feel every last drop of your juices coating the sensitive skin of his length, nearly losing his mind when you told him to come inside you a few minutes later, moaning like he was dying when he filled you with his cum for the first time and felt you squeeze him and drain him (he was a goner after that, couldnt go back to fucking with a condom, even when he knew it was unwise, the feel of you around him was just too fucking good)

౨ৎ other men might be turned off by the idea of eating their girl out right after a cream pie, but not him. he does not let his own taste deter him, not at all, so sometimes when youre done having sex and youre laying there all shaky and flushed and raw from it all, whimpering because you’re still riled up, he will ease you by playing with your clit a bit, helping your worn out body enjoy the aftershocks, whispering "look at you, gorgeous girl... real sensitive right now, hm? need a bit more, need some help there?" before he leans down and licks up the mess he made of you, your juices and his mixed together, eating you out more gently than before and giving you a final orgasm before he really lets you come down and holds you in his arms (takes every last chance to get his mouth on you)

౨ৎ whenever you leave to go back to your house afterwards, he tries to put off his shower for as long as possible because he wants his hands to keep smelling like you... he will sit there and zone out while he has his fingers pressed up against his nose, taking a few deeeep breaths in, savoring the lingering scent of your juices, maybe even licking his fingers to get a hint of a taste before he eventually has to take his nightly shower and mourns the loss of that reminder of your love-making </3

౨ৎ sometimes late at night when your dad is already asleep or busy watching tv/reading, you take the chance to get a quickie in before bed - you’ll sneak out through the back door and come over to Joel already in your pajamas, sleepy and needy, horny and in the mood for something sensual, not a full on hookup, but just a bit of touching, and he always oblidges, no matter if its 10pm or already 1am, he will let you sit on his lap or next to him on the couch and play with your pussy as you relax and sigh, moaning to you about how much he loves to feel you like that, his big fingers so gentle with it, so skilled, the tension of the day leaving you immediately

౨ৎ he will make you suck his fingers and then rub your clit nice and slow, dipping his fingertips between your folds and dragging them up and down to gather every last drop, filthy with it as you squirm and mewl, comfortable as youre pressed up against his side, one of his arms steading you as he tells you how fuckin good you feel, to spread your legs nice n wide for him, easing one, two, or sometimes three fingers into you, switching between the fingering and jerking off motions until youre drenched and quivering and come hard enough to be breathless from it - youll give him a few heartfelt kisses and touches before you sneak back into your room, all tingly and heavy from pleasure, put to sleep very fast by his actions (you feel safe doing it, coming over just for that when you’re not gonna stay for long, because he never demands anything in return and enjoys it just as much as you, he can jerk himself off after you’re gone, he just loves to see you on his doorstep looking all sweet and desperate and to know he’ll get to have a taste/feel for a few minutes, its become a ritual that he asks "need help with somethin, darlin?" knowing damn well what he needs to do to "help" you)

౨ৎ in general, he always makes sure you know that any touch or taste of you is enough to satisfy him, getting head from you in return or being allowed to fuck you senseless is just the cherry on top, he would die a happy man if all he ever got to do was eat you out and finger you <3

౨ৎ before he eats you out, he will press his face between your legs, his nose right up against the fabric, and stay like that for a few seconds to get an immediate heavy hit of your scent, the dampness of your panties enough to drive him wild before even getting a proper taste

౨ৎ one time he pointed at your panties that were crumpled on the floor next to his bed and said "I´m keeping those by the way. need a reminder of that sweet juice of yours until youre back here" so you joked and said he could keep them for good if he gave you money to buy a new pair, but he actually did it and told you to buy a color or fabric he hadnt seen you in before, to surprise him next time

౨ৎ hed never be weird about you using toys or masturbating frequently, even while youre back home and are having sex regularly with him, he wants you to feel as good as possible, all the time, so if you enjoy jerking off a certain way and he maybe even gets a front row seat to it as well sometimes? hes in heaven. you playing with your pussy for him to see, thats a night to his liking, doesnt even need to lead to sex, it usually does of course, but hed be glad to just let you go to town on your own and be an eager witness and supporter, stroking your back, caressing your hips and thighs, kissing you all over as you get yourself off <3

౨ৎ he loves to rub his tip over your wetness before he inches himself in. its never a long ordeal because he doesnt like to tease you to a point where it feels cruel but it just feels so fucking divine to him, having his throbbing tip gather up all that thick velvety wetness, also loveees when youre on top and just slide your folds over his dick before taking it inside, nearly loses his mind whenever you do it like that, grinding yourself over his shaft before you relieve him from the tension and sit down on him, he curses under his breath and shuts his eyes and groans like noboys business...

౨ৎ he gets so hard from giving you head that it almost hurts at times... so he might just pull his dick out and jerk himself off when it gets too intense, humping his own palm as he finishes you off with his mouth, pathetic as hell but so fucking hot the way he groans and cums right after you ride your orgasm out against his tongue

౨ৎ sometimes when hes over at your place to see your dad and you happen to be there, it takes all of his willpower not to drag you into the bathroom to touch or tongue-fuck you especially! when youre sitting there all pretty in your summer clothes with your thighs exposed, or your midriff/lower belly showing, not sitting like a lady but with your legs far apart and relaxed, in a way that would allow him to get on his knees and have his way right then and there... poor man struggles to string together a proper sentence when youre in the room like that, sweating through his shirt in a way that makes your dad refill his drink, you only grinning to yourself and torturing him for a moment longer before you say bye and head out of the day, already imagining what hes gonna do later on

౨ৎ to put it plainly: Joel always always always wants a taste. no matter where or when, the moment your affair started, he knew he’d never be able to get enough of it, and he is glad to live in that constant state of desire after years of being numb in that regard, you woke him up again and at his age it felt like a miracle to experience the kind of sex and passion he could have only dreamed of when he was younger

౨ৎ he sometimes almost fucks up and moans "fuck baby I love you so much" or something similar when he’s deep inside of you because it all just feels too good, the feverish rush of your sacred intimacy will push those words to the tip of his tongue, he always swallows them a second before its too late or kisses you to stop himself from blurting it all out

౨ৎ you can feel it though, that he loves you. deeply so. that youre not just a hookup for him, the same way he isnt just that to you, you can feel it whenever youre in the throes of passion with him: that even though you two are a secret and wont ever be more than that, Joel will always cherish you and care for you and be right there to please you if your future boyfriend/husband ever decides to neglect his duty of getting on his knees and worshipping his woman the way she deserves ;)

౨ৎ he’s already going to hell for sleeping with his best friends daughter, so he’d have no problem giving her exactly what she needs one more time, or a few more times.. if she ever decided to come back to him down the line, not his fault that tasting an angel like that might make him a corrupted soul - he’d take having your soft sighs in his hear, your warm lips on his face, your sweet honey coating his mouth and fingers, over having a clean conscience, any. damn. day.

[narfin-frood]

i've been itching to share my swap au since i thought it up, but i think i now finally have an actual baseline to introduce it with!!

the idea isn't that it's a personality swap, but a role swap, with wander and sylvia as antagonists and hater and peepers as the protags, and i have a whole lot to say about it so im gonna go ahead and infodump below the cut

so i've renamed these two, at least, since hater's story has become less about getting over himself and more about how he sees the world Now That He's Gotten Over Himself. i'm calling him The Great (and absent) Lord Lackadaisical right now, but i don't think that's what he'd like to be called, since he's an absent ruler who doesn't really care to be in a position of so much power and would rather fuck off to all the planets with really nice hot tubs. he and Sir Peepers (his loyal knight who cannot be convinced to leave his side) travel the galaxy with hater's sweet ride (i'm not too good at designing motorcycles yet. pending).

i haven't thought of new names/titles for wander and sylvia just yet (i cannot just call him Sitter Over Therer) but i do know what their deal is, and it's the main reason i made this au (i feel like if wander were a villain he would not in fact be a villain like lord hater or dominator because i think that kinda disregards wander's whole Shit, he'd be like screwball, and even then he'd have very strong convictions that he's doing the right thing): wander has a cult (a hivemind, kinda) and sylvia is his priest.

i think wander comes along this mushroom during a time in his life when everything seems to have been torn asunder, and instead of continuing his adventures and learning and growing as a person, the mushroom offers a solution that doesn't require much effort on his behalf. the mushroom links people together borg-style, makes them share a brain and a purpose. wander not only thinks it's super neat, but he's in such a poor state of mind when he finds it, he convinces himself it's the only way to make the galaxy a better place.

sylvia is the only person in his Ring of Friends who isn't hooked up to the mushroom, because she's actually wander's friend, and she's his ride or die. she does the things she does out of free will and dedication to her best friend, including preaching and fisticuffs.

^^^ here's some more of my initial concept art. originally the mushroom was gonna be a tree, but i had a vision of an upside down mushroom (or several, to take the place of watchdogs) scuttling around and by god is it easy to make that look like his hat.

the thing that really really pushes wander over the edge is the sheer boredom of it all. when he's connected to the mushroom, he's very little more than the brain they all share. he can't move around, and that KILLS him (see: the hole lotta nuthin). so when hater (name pending) comes along and refuses to join him and annoys him enough, he gets suuuuper stoked about having something to really DO for once.

anyway. this is what i've got for now. do you like it. you can be honest if you dont like it

[pumpkinpaix]

not to throw an mdzs apple of discord out there in the year of our lord 2025, but i've been thinking about how it's arguable that nie huaisang's approach to revenge is pretty comparable to xue yang's.

if i were really committed to yeeting the apple, I'd have titled this post "nie huaisang is just as morally corrupt as xue yang" or something, but that's not entirely what I mean or like, what exactly has got me stuck on thinking about it. i suspect it's the strange obsession mdzs fandom has with "proving" characters' purity or damnation one way or another at the cost of the story's core themes that's really soured huaisang as a character for me while xue yang still delights me with his horrors. to my knowledge, there isn't a large contingent of fans arguing that xue yang was justified (阿弥fucking陀佛) but there's definitely a significant number arguing similar for huaisang.

i've said before that "there's no equivalent justice so xue yang actually kind of has a point" (despite being totally unjustified!!), and it's interesting to me that I am disinclined to try and understand nie huaisang in the same way. perhaps it's because xue yang's selfishness and excessive revenge comes from a place of disenfranchisement while nie huaisang's comes from a place of privilege. or maybe it's just because nie huaisang already has enough defenders.

something about how nie huaisang privileges the loss of his brother over everyone else's losses and lives is really makes me balk. to get back at jin guangyao for nie mingjue's death, huaisang is prepared to let other people suffer loss in the same way he has as compensation. his revenge, other people's loss; xue yang's finger, other people's lives. the reasoning's not dissimilar. in the same way that xue yang lies to xiao xingchen and tricks him into killing someone he loves, nie huaisang does the same thing to lan xichen: xue yang for his own entertainment, nie huaisang to keep his own hands clean.

huaisang is a really effective driver of the narrative in the present-day arc because his revenge plot is so chaotic (and frankly, not very good) and scattershot. interesting situations arise because of all the collateral damage that huaisang is perfectly prepared for other people to sustain in the course of his plan--it doesn't matter to him. whether the juniors live or die is immaterial, and the potential suffering of their loved ones is also immaterial to him because all of it can be used to further his own objectives. that makes for a really cool plot device because everything happening to our main characters is a byproduct of a plan that has very little to do with them personally. they're the main characters to us, but the side characters in the bigger plot they're entangled in. the bigger plot is actually just like. not really about wangxian at all! they're just player pieces that nie huaisang is trying to use in his conflict between jin guangyao. wangxian get their shot at a happy ending because nie huaisang decided that they might be useful, not because it was something they earned or deserved which i find to be a very compelling way to approach their story.

overly simplistic and reductionist summary: huaisang is a villain and i wish more people would let him be one.

[greenglowinspooks]

Thinkin about a DCxDP where Danny’s helping ghosts find peace while he’s laying low in Gotham.

Like, he moved away from Amity for whatever reason. Maybe the reveal went badly, maybe he just couldn’t stand staying any longer. For whatever reason, he’s in Gotham, because the rent is cheap and he’s nowhere near the strangest thing there so no one looks at him twice.

However, this city is cursed. Like, cursed beyond cursed. It’s actively alive with how many curses there are, and the ghosts there are extremely unhappy about it.

(Of course, that’s not a problem for Danny. His ghost side filters out the toxic smog and the chemicals in the water, and his human side gives a resistance to the rank ecto and the hexes that are actively trying to devour him.)

He doesn’t really want to do anything about it, to be honest.

He’s sick of playing hero, considering how it went last time, and he’s busy working at Waffle House or Walmart or whatever other store doesn’t bother doing a background check (in Gotham, that’s probably all of them), and maybe trying to find a way to get highschool credits that don’t immediately disqualify him from every college in existence.

Still, the ghosts know he can hear them. They know, and they keep coming for help.

So, hey, why not? He definitely can’t put this as experience in any sort of job application, but he really doesn’t have much else to do.

So, he becomes errand boy for a bunch of ghosts.

Sometimes he’s finding objects that are important to them, sometimes he’s giving evidence they collected together of their murders to the police, sometimes he’s getting them the last meal they never had, sometimes he’s just spending time with them like they’re not dead.

The ghosts don’t always move on, but they’re always more at peace. Occasionally they pay him back in charms and blessings and the locations of valuables that he can keep or pawn for cash.

Eventually, a new ghost shows up.

She looks like a shadow, like all the ghosts of Gotham, but she seems stronger than usual. She asks him for a favor that those who came before him were never able to fulfill.

She asks him to find her engagement ring, and give it to her son.

Easy enough, he thinks. It’s a bit of a pain to buy the ring from the seedy pawn shop it’s in (he would usually just steal it, but he doesn’t want to implicate her kid in anything, which she seems grateful for), but everything’s going mostly alright.

Then, she tells him who her son is, and wow, no wonder no one’s helped her yet.

He’s Red Hood. The guy who is(/was) the crime lord in charge of crime alley. The title sounds a bit stupid to Danny, but he’s still a genuine threat to a living person.

Good thing he’s not one of those.

And so, the next time he sees Red Hood out and about, he goes right up to him. The man seems mostly unbothered, but Danny does notice how his hand slightly drifts towards one of his many weapons.

He tells Red Hood outright that he’s there on behalf of the man’s mother, then just holds out his hand with the ring inside, dropping it into Red Hood’s open palm.

Then he leaves, not waiting for a response.

—

Jason has a mystery on his hands, and he might just cash in some favors from Babs and Tim to figure it out.

He’s got to find the guy who gave him his mother’s ring, and find out everything he knows.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Please update Child Support, it’s hilarious!!!😂

John sighs, slumping on the table. Surrounding him were various bottles of dubious liquids. He found that human alcohol rarely gave him that special kick when he was trying to drink his stress away and would often hop over to a dimension with real fun ones.

He's been under a lot of stress lately.

Danny's potential sutiors were driving him crazy, not to mention the consent fear that he would mess up in a way Clockwork won't take kindly to. His son was slowly finding his footing in this world thanks to the SuperSons. His new school, some posh academy in Gotham, had far stricter policies in regards to bullying, so at least no one had given his boy any grief.

John highly doubted that meant he wasn't facing any verbal abuse. But it was better than the previous five schools he had attempted to send his child to. Danny had even come home one day, waving a permission form to join the astrology club at him, so John figured he owed Batman an enormous thanks. Something like a simple candlelight dinner.

If he could get the stick in the mud to say yes, that was.

"Is everything alright?" Barry asks, patting John on his shoulder. The British man groans into the table top, trying to hide away from the overly cheerful fellow.

He can't handle the Flash right now, not when John has finally gotten a moment of peace.

Sadly, the other didn't seem to get the memo. Barry pats his shoulder again, more insistant than before. John closes his eyes, trying to get the swirling votrex of dancing unicons to vanish from his sight - He did drink far too much Sparkle Shine Ale- as he mutters. "Danny wants to go on a date."

"Ah," Barry's voice takes on a teasing tone. "It's always hard realizing they're growing up."

"You don't understand." John utters in misery. "Dating is different in the Infinete Realms"

"How so?"

"It involves getting parent's permission before hand."

Barry makes a sound that might have been the start of a sentence, but his words are drowned out by a loud and powerful portal ripping the air above them. The rest of the Justice League - for John felt it was safer to get drunk away from his boy and choose to use the company lounge - spring to their feet.

Besides the location of the Watchtower, various security functions had gone into the blueprints of keeping the Justice League safe. Bruce and had installed defenses from paranormal entities. Every inch of the tower had some carvings that were said to be protective wards.

Bruce placed every ward, charm, and protective coating he could find from various cultures of Earth.

John was impressed with the fact Bruce had somehow been able to sniff out the frauds, back when he didn't even know magic was real.

If only they were powerful enough to keep this toerag away from him. John slowly raises his head far enough that his intoxicated eyes can glare at the being, who leaps out of the portal to land on his table with a thump.

"I beg of you, please allow me to date your son!" Klarion, Lord of Choas, drops to one knee and presents a bouquet of the Infinite Realm's most expensive roses. The roses shine and shimmer in various colors and never stay the same for too long. "Our marriage would be a tale for the ages!"

John can't even answer that ridiculous request before another portal rips open, and this time, Asmodeus, a king of demons in a few different realms, falls to his knees beside John's chair. He's in his more humanoid form, having heard the rumor that Danny preference said forms.

He obviously made sure that people would not forget his title of "Demon of lust"with the gorgeous human features he picked out, even if a pair of horns still stuck to his head.

He is presenting John precious jewels that many have lost their lives in an attempt to steal. Mosth had been slain by the lust demon before they even got to glanced at them. "My young lord, I humbly request your approval for your heir's right of dating. I-"

"Get lost! I was here first!" Klarion hisses, flinging magic at the lust demon, "I shall be the one to earn a date!"

"You worthless little worm!" Asmodeus growls, body shifting into a gaint beast that snares at the lord of choas. His once shining jewels now had black spots across them. "Your magic stained my jewels!"

John reaches for his other bottles as yet another voice joins the two arguing higher beings. He doesn't even want to check to see what the rest of the league thinks about all this.

"I, Trox king of the Goblins, have come to humbly request a date with Clockwork's heir -"

"NO! I was here first!"

"I'll shall prove that you worms are not worthy of Lord Danny's hand!"

John wonders, in the far conrers of his mind, if he should attempt to contact Clockwork about this. The emboloment of time was dangerous in a way that would usually mean he would avoid at all costs, but really, he doesn't think he can handle this anymore.

Every day, for the past three months, demons, ghosts, magic users, and whatever else in between would pop up, begging John to approve a date with Danny.

His son unawarely brought this about when he told John one morning before school that he was thinking about joining a dating app some of his classmates were talking about.

His innoccent words had been taken as a request for a mate by every non-human being across the mutiverse and now John was getting bombarded by beings foaming at the mouth, wanting to be the ones that had Clockwork as a in-law.

John was only human, magic powers aside, he couldn't handle this anymore.

Somewhere, he thinks he can hear his ex-lover laughing his ass off.

[atebyflowers]

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎if i wasn't so american ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎| ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎part one

[ ︎this is the intro to a series of truck driver ellie x serial killer femme fics . . . . Full credit to this tweet for the idea. photos are solely for aesthetic purposes not meant to mimic readers intended race or body. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ butch ellie x femme reader, misogyny mentions, murder obviously, assault/sa; not in depth, but mentioned. smut (r!recieving). long reader storyline. not native in english, semi edited, but ignore grammar/punctuation mistakes. title of the fic is from this song . word count : 6.2k ]

︎ March 1st, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You remember the first time you actually went through with a kill like it was yesterday. He was dirty, borderline revolting when you first met him. Ending up at a truck stop after a day of hitchhiking your way through town, you couldn't help but notice him. I mean, how could you not with how obnoxious he was. Standing outside his truck loudly cat calling nearly every girl he laid his eyes on, it was impossible for you to miss him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎You had a lingering hatred for the type of men that spoke to women as anything other than respectable, it burned a different type of hatred into your heart. You couldn't reason with them. Nothing in your mind allowed you to sympathize with such creatures. And now, as you walk into the truck stop for a drink, peeking through the clear windows as the occasional woman walks up and does everything in their power to avoid the pig practically loitering outside — your resolution is final. If the lord won't take these men out of this world to benefit women, it must mean he's waiting for you to take matters into your own hands. And boy were you anticipating the day you came across such an easy target like this one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "Hey misterrr" you dragged out as you leaned up against the truck beside his, drink in hand and a lightly packed bag hanging off your shoulder; containing nothing but a few outfits, a camera, a kitchen knife, spare change and a gun you swiped from your fathers closet back home. "well hey there sweet thing" he replied, looking you up and down, his eyes making sure to stare down just a bit longer than up — dirty pervert you thought. "so what brings you over here? called out to ya earlier but you walked right past me". he questioned, somewhat slurred as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. "oh nothin.. must've not heard you the first time. just wanted to see where you might be headed" you answered, putting on your best fake smile before takint a sip of your drink. "now why's that huh? y'lookin for a ride huh?" he responded letting out a puff of smoke. "maybeee .. or maybe i'm lookin to come visit you sometime". Your words were as convincing as they could be in this situation. It also helped that he was a desperate loser who'd believe anything if said by a sweet young woman. "oh really?" he chuckled. "really" you responded, widening your eyes and leaning up off the truck. "soo... why don't you write down your name and where ur heading so i'll remember who to ask for when i come knocking" you reached into your bag as you spoke, pulling out a nearly empty pen and an old notebook before handing it to him. Immediately he complied, thinking he got lucky he didn't hesitate to give you his location, even throwing in a time recommendation for you. Handing you back the notebook, you smiled at the words in rusty hand writing. Randy was his name. such a shame poor old randy had no clue what was coming his way you thought to yourself once again as you placed the notebook back in your bag, barely zipping it up before he attempted to pull you closer to him. "so tell me.. what youlookin to do then baby?" his words almost faded into a whisper as he leaned down to smell your hair, his body odor slapping you in the face before you pulled away subtly and started to walk backwards. "don't you worry about that now.. i like to suprise my dates" you replied before turning around fully to walk off — cringing at your own words as you made your way towards the sidewalk.

︎ ︎ As you made your way down the street — you came to a stop once the sidewalk started to fade into gravel. you threw your bag down at your feet and stretched out your arm. hitchhiking was nothing new to you, you had been on the road for months catching rides from strangers and debating with the voices in your head. You had a few other victims in mind before randy. Some you met at other stops, some that picked you up on the way. But there was always something in the way: too many people around, a wife and kids waiting for them at home, your conscious telling you it was wrong. for a while now, it took long sleepless nights of thinking, for you to actually develop the overwhelming urge to kill without remorse. There was nothing left for you back at home, and you had spent your entire life surrounded by males who did nothing but make being a woman seem like living hell. What good did men like Randy bring to the world? and what loss would it be without them? could taking your anger out on them really be that bad? you knew the answer to that. it was obvious. there was no space in this world for such things, and you were desperate to make sure no other woman would suffer at the hands of them. it wasn't an impulse, it was a buildup that took months of debating before you came to terms with what you needed to do.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ It didn't take long for someone to stop at the sign of your hand waving at on coming cars. a nice couple this time; perhaps in their 30s it seemed. luckily for you they were headed in the perfect direction, not asking too many questions about why you're headed so far up alone — the drive going by slowly in result. but you were grateful, it gave you more than enough time to draw out a plan in your head. After about an hour and a half they dropped you off at a diner not too far from where you were supposed to meet Randy — some rundown trailer park you could barely pin point on the map. Lord did he make it too easy. You didn’t go there right away. Instead, you sat in the booth of the diner for a while, until sundown to be exact. there was nothing on your mind besides carrying out what you had in mind. Randy would be the first hit to a long list of others.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ When the sun set and customers started to clear out, you began your trip to the promised meeting location. The walk to his trailer felt short. The directions were easy and there really weren't many people around. The park was quiet, it was hard to tell which trucks were abandoned and which had others living in them. Randy's trailer was the last one in the row, almost perfectly hidden behind all the others. You didnt take long to approach, the feeling of actually being close to someone you had planned to kill made your adrenaline rush in ways it hasn't before, there was nothing holding you back. Randy opened the door the second he heard your first knock, shirtless, he held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in one hand. "Well i’ll be damned. ya actually showed up huh” he slurred with a grin, stepping aside and waving you in. you smiled sweetly and walked inside without wasting time on verbal exchange. Immediately upon entry, you were hit with the smell of sweat, cigarettes and alcohol. Your eyes gazed around the room, spotting porn magazines on the table and a lonesome cat in the corner.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ “You drinkin’ anything?” he asked, walking toward the counter, not bothering to ask what you liked — just pouring some of his half drank bottle into a terribly washed cup for you when you agreed to having a drink. you didn't actually drink it of course, it barely touched your lips as you thanked him and pretended to take a sip. “Didn’t expect someone like you to actually show,” he broke the silence, settling onto the couch, “But I ain’t complainin’ you're a sweet one" he added, a nasty smirk on his face as he continued to drink directly from the bottle. You didn't sit nor did he offer you a seat, you just stood there, leaned against the wall, fiddling with the dirty undranken glass before responding. "well.. i always try to keep my promises" you said. "mm well i sure am glad. you not like them other bitches huh darlin'?" he replied slowly, fixing himself off the couch to come over to you. The word he uses sent a rush of anger through your veins. He touched you on your arm, then slid his hand down to rub your ass. though uncomfortable, you kept your composure and let him, not wanting to fuck this up. "Randy.." you spoke just above a whisper — he didn't pull away, only responding with a grunt. "Randy.. i have a question" you continued, this time he only pulled back a little, keeping a firm grip on your waist. "hm? what is it.... ah u wanna get more comfortable that's it honey?" he questioned with the same smirk on his face as earlier. you chuckled in response, turning to reach into your bag slowly as you responded. "no... not necessarily i- just wanted to give you something i got on the road". you unzipped the bag, "oh yes? well lemme see my gift then sweetheart" he replied — and you pulled it out. a small hand gun, loaded of course, immediately causing him to step back and put his hands up. His face twisted into something between shock and amusement. “woah there now, what's this about" he asked, and for the first time since meeting him your words wouldn't come out — there was nothing in your mind besides the sound of your own heart rushing. it was beating throughout your ears, you couldn't respond, you just stood there for a moment, gun in hand and pointed directly at him.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ "I dunno what you think you're doin but liste-" you raised the gun towards his left side, and Randy's words were cut off with a single shot. You didn’t give him time to beg or even understand the gravity of your actions, your desire to kill was entirely too high for you to let him try and talk you out of it, or attempt to gain some sympathy out of you. You stood over him after it was done, he hit the floor harder than ever and you watched as he bled out — the cat that had been seated in the corner, scrambled to his side meowing. that was probably the only part you felt bad about, the poor and neglected cat. Once you made sure he was fully gone, kicking at his side to try and wake him, kneeling down to check his pulse — you didn't bother to clean up. It was useless when his body would most likely be there for days you thought. reaching over your shoulder and placing the gun back in your bag, you reached in at the same time and pulled out your camera — snapping a quick picture of the lifeless man before standing up. before leaving randy's trailer: you swiped his pockets and quickly rummaged through his belongings to find any leftover cash or cigarettes. once you gathered what could fit into your bag, you were headed out — but just as you were about to close the door behind you, you turned around, walking back towards Randy's body and picking up the cat that had now laid down next to him. you were a murderer yes, but the thrill of just having killed someone didn't erase your morals, you couldn't let that cat starve to death alone in there just cause you hated its owner. It was an innocent thing. and so once in hand, you left Randy there alone, the trailer park still as quiet and empty as it had been when you came — nobody around to have possibly seen you, and nobody home in their trailers who seemed to care about the loud bang that rang out earlier. lord, was it ever so easy. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Randy was obviously the first. You were inexperienced and had never killed before him. But once it was done, you felt nothing but satisfaction with yourself. You physically couldn't feel bad for what you had done no matter how hard you tried. After that night, you had settled down at a hotel just a town over from where you committed the act. The only thing that halted your travels for about four weeks was the brief worry that if you act again too soon you may get caught. But there was no remorse about the actual actions at hand, and that's why immediately after a month was up, and your worrying feeling went away, you were ecstatic to get back to work. You couldn't say Randy was the last; of course he wasn't. If anything, Randy opened the door to many other men like him falling victim to your sweet manipulation. you learned from him, he showed you just how easy it is to talk to the ones like him, and how much easier it was to get valuable information out of them by offering.. Well, nothing specifically. you never actually offered sex or anything to these men. But just the hopes of a girl showing up and giving them something was more than enough for them to compromise their safety unknowingly — and you thanked the gods above for making it this simple. Over the course of five months, you had killed ten other men like Randy over the course of five months — the entitled ones who thought women owed them something, the dirty ones who spoke boldly to women with no interest in them, and especially the ones with no one waiting at home for them. It wasn't as hard to cover up your true intentions when speaking to others, nor was it ever hard to find a ride towards your next victim. People were too trusting of sweet looking young girls like yourself, but you were ever so grateful for it. only ever made your job easier.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

September 12th, 2000

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You've been sitting on the curb outside a laundromat stop in Arizona for about an hour and 30 now. it's 7:30pm on a Sunday, you're waiting for your clothes to dry after washing them. It's been 2 months since your last kill, and seven months since randy. It was fall now and the weather was getting colder, which only meant even less people roaming the streets. Even less chances of possible witnesses. Despite that, your overwhelming urge to kill quickly had worn off. with only one slip up over the last few months — an accidental run in with a local cop after a kill, who, lucky for you, 100% believed your excuse of it being “that time of the month” when he asked about the small dried blood stain on your clothing. You didn't really find it necessary to kill so fast. With no one on your ass, you could take your time and enjoy experiencing each state while killing a disturbing man you came across occasionally here and there.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Your mind started to drift off before you heard boots scrapping across the bumpy pavement, swiftly catching your attention. That was the first time you saw her. She caught your attention from the get go, her auburn hair caught by the golden evening sunlight — she wore brown jeans and an old looking cardigan with a white shirt underneath. You stared at her as she stood outside the door holding a bar of clothes, digging in her jean pocket for some cash before stepping inside, you, slowly following behind. There weren't many women you came across during your killing spree. None that weren't being harassed by your next victim at least. and definitely none that looked like her. You tried to be subtle about the fact you were watching her, taking your clothes out of the dryer and placing them back into the washer as she did with hers. You didn't notice that she noticed, but neither of you said a word to each other. You were the only ones in the laundromat besides the older lady behind the counter closely focused on the tv hanging along the wall next to her. It was quiet, and beyond awkward as you both sat on opposite sides of the room waiting for the washers to go off, then switching to a dryer. You didn't tend to put a hit out on someone you were seeking a ride from, you always let fate put someone in your hands and trusted that they'd get you to where you needed without harm (the fact you had a gun and a knife, and weren't afraid to use either also helped). But there was something different about the way she carried herself that made you desperate to ask her, or at least find out where she was going. Maybe it was the fact you were touch strived, or maybe it was the fact you had been surrounded by men for months on end and wanted to have a conversation with a woman who wasn't in need of your help. Whatever it was, you always knew to follow through with your gut.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ Her clothes dried faster than yours. you watched again as she unloaded the dryer and put her clothes back into the bag she had brought them in, before walking out. Once she was out of the door, you rushed to be sure you don't miss her — unloading your own, still damp clothing. You waited until she was fully in her truck, keeping a slight distance as she pulled out of the parking lot. Following a few feet behind, the cool air hit your face as you stood at the end of the lot, watching her truck in the distance stop, not too far from where you stood, before it pulled into a local diner. You wasted no time making your way down the street towards the same building, determined to catch and speak to her this time.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside, a whiff of black coffee hitting your nose immediately upon entry. you noticed her the second you sat down — she was sitting alone, at a table not too far from where you were, a coffee already in her hand. there was a chance she noticed when you walked in, maybe her eyes turned to the door the second she heard the bell like everyone else did. or maybe she didn't care, either way, she didn't look up from the newspaper she had laid on her table. you didn't bother to order anything, unsure of how long she'd be there, you couldn't take the risk of being too indulged in your food and miss her. About 30 minutes passed before she stood up and tucked in her chair. She left a tip on the table and just as she was about to get away, you acted fast. "hey” you called out to her, a bit louder than you meant to which made you cringe, but it did the job — grabbing her attention. she paused with her hand on the truck door, her foot about to climb up before she stepped back down and turned slightly towards you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you just — um… are you heading out of town? i could use a ride if you got room" you asked looking over towards her open truck door, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. She stared back at you for a minute before she spoke, her emotion was hard to read which irritated something in you — after months of reading men like a book, she was the first person whose words you couldn't make out in your head before they were actually spoken. “What makes you think I’m going far?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed to yourself before answering; “ah i dunno... just figured i'd ask instead of wasting time tryna flag someone down". She looked you over again as you spoke, but it wasn't the way a man would, it was almost like an evaluation. "ya got anyone waiting on you?" she questioned, a question that confused you but you answered anyways — "no one" you said shaking your head. your response seemed to satisfy her as she nodded her head towards the passenger side. "c'mon then". it wasn't thorough, but it was enough to get you going. you wasted no time following her words, hopping inside after her and closing the door behind you. The inside of the truck smelled like pine and something metallic, old blood maybe, or just rust. The seemingly old seats squeaked under your weight as you adjusted yourself and fastened your seatbelt — taking your bag off and placing it on your lap.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You were both quiet when she pulled out of the diner, and you remained quiet for lord knows how long into the drive. If you were being honest with yourself, what could you possibly say? this was the first time youd been in contact with a girl ... like her, in nearly forever. it was also the first time you ever felt something besides the thrill you got from killing. you weren't sure what the feeling was, but it was something different. she was the first to break the silence, looking at you fidgeting with your bag before she sighed and imitated a conversation. "so, what's your name?" You looked over at her, her eyes completely focused on the road now. you graced over her, noticing the way her slightly veiny hands gripped the steering wheel. "do i have to tell you" you responded, and she shrugged, "You don’t, but i did let you into my truck without running a background check. would at least be nice to know what to call ya" she responded and you hesitated. she did have a point you thought — and therefore you complied — speaking your name just above a whisper, slightly hoping she wouldn't catch it, but of course, she did. "alright then y/n. i'm Ellie.” She reached over and turned the volume up on the radio just a little after speaking, an old country song you couldn't recognize the name of hitting your ears. "Nice to meet you Ellie.. and thanks ... you know for the ride and all" you replied and she hummed in response. "how far y'lookin 'to go?" Ellie asked, her fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the along just slightly, though enough for you to notice. "not sure really. guess as far as you're willing to put up with me for". you really didn't know where you were going without a target out on the next victim. It was a weird feeling to be chasing practically nothing for once, and without fully understanding why you decided to chase it. But it was too late to back out, and there was nothing in your mind telling you to do so. How it would go from here was unknown, for once, things weren't completely in your control, there was no secret mind game to play — just fate and whatever slip of hope you had left from home.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You drove mostly in silence for about another hour or two after that. The same few songs played over and over again on the radio, Ellie changing the station every once in a while, though there wasn't much change in the music itself. You stared out the window for the majority of the silence. There wasn't much on your mind to debrief about — the situation at hand didn't have much gravity to it and overall you've already gone over every possible thought about the last seven months of your life. so, you waited until Ellie eventually spoke again once she got to a red light. "Do you always hitchhike with strangers?" she asked, her voice lower than it had been before. you glared at her — trying to read whether it was a joke or an actual question, quickly giving up when you realized you still couldn't read past her. "Guess so" you answered somewhat emotionless, not wanting to give up too much detail, and she hummed again. You drove for another hour or so, before Ellie pulled into a small roadside motel, the neon sign flickering like it was struggling to stay alive. There were two other cars in the parking lot but nothing else that really caught your eye. “Alright" she spoke, pausing to shut off the radio and turn the car off before speaking again. "can either come in with me or catch another ride, m'not driving throughout the night" she said. You nodded at her and she turned to get out of the truck, you — taking an extra moment before getting out. It was already nearing 1am, so you couldn't blame Ellie for stopping. but the idea of staying alone with a stranger overnight, somehow didn't bother you as much as it should've. more so, having no prey at this moment didn't bother you either. Rather, the idea that she could possibly be the dangerous one didn't cross your mind, you only felt relief. relief that you have some sense of normalcy for a moment — as normal as being a runaway turned serial killer could possibly be. Staying at different places for months alone had its ups and downs, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't miss having some sort of contact with another human being — one that wasn't on your hit list at least. and therefore, you followed behind her.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ The room she paid for was surprisingly clean despite the outside look of the motel itself. the curtains were stained a bit yellow and there was dust amongst the tables, but besides that nothing seemed particularly bad. The only major flaw that caught your eye — being the singular bed. the lady working at the front desk, insisting they didn't carry doubles. Ellie tossed her bag onto the chair and unzipped it slowly, pulled out a pack of gum and offered you a piece. You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed. Your demeanour was more awkward than usual, it was slightly funny to you — the way you caught yourself being filled with such a confusing feeling after spending so long having others that way. Ellie leaned against the lone tv stand across from the bed, studying you for a moment before speech. “you ever gonna tell me why you were following me back there?” she asked. So she did notice you thought to yourself. Your natural reaction was to shrug. “I just had a feeling about you I suppose... i dunno". “feeling,” she repeated with an almost mocking scoff, “ya always go with your feelings hm?" she asked on, this time you were willing to give in slightly with more detail. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the fact you finally got a good look at her now that she was standing directly in front of you — whatever it was, made you feel a sort of desperation to be heard that you never felt before. She was still a stranger, you reminded yourself in your head. But there was something drawing you towards her that was almost magnetic. "most the time, they tend to be right" you replied. “can't say they've ever led me to... this though" you add. “this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone only got lower as the night went on it seemed. “this" you said again standing up, without really meaning to. it was unusual, like your body had a mind of its own and moved with the pace of your words. there was a rushing feeling in your blood, but for once, it wasn't the type of rush you got from murdering. This one was unfamiliar — but not the slightest bit less thrilling. You were close to her now — you didn't mean to move like that, but she didn’t back away at your movement, and you didn't think to stop yourself. For a moment, you were both still, so still it almost hurt. Then slowly, her hand came up and hovered near your jaw, not quite touching, but close enough to make you flinch at first — Ellie only letting out a soft chuckle at the sight. “you're real strange y'know" she muttered low. You tilted your head slightly which caused her lingering fingers to brush against your skin. with a small smirk you responded "yeah?", ellie nodding. "well so are you" you added, lookin down at the short distance between yours and her feet. You hadn't realized just how close the two of you got, until her hand was on your face. She reached down towards your chin, tilting your head up for your eyes to meet hers, her hand now sliding toward your jaw again. It caught you off guard, but you didn't pull back or ask her to stop as she pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn't soft or slow. It was sudden and rough, like both of you were touch strived and waiting for this exact moment to slap you in the face. her mouth tasted like gum and old coffee, but you were so in tune with her — it didn't matter, all you could do was kiss her back. So desperate, it was like you’d die if you didn’t. When you broke apart, she stared at you for a short moment, as if she was actually looking for a sign of discomfort from you. one, that of course couldn't be found — as you were more than comfortable enough now, to pull her back in for another one.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ellie's hand dragged down your thigh, the two of you slowly moving towards the bed — your mouths still attached with every movement. she pushed you down onto the shockingly soft mattress, her lips moving from yours and making their way to your jaw, then your neck. you let out a shaky breath in response to her take over, which caused her to lift up from your skin. she leaned down to place another softer kiss on your lips this time, before cupping your face and speaking — her touch, more gentle than you could've ever expected. it was like her skin melted perfectly into yours, spiking a feeling you longed for. "tell me if you want to stop" she spoke above a whisper, words you wouldnt have guessed, though they only made you ache for her even more. "please.... keep going" you spoke through heavy breathes, Ellie smiling just a bit at how worked up you had already become. her lips attached back to your skin, making their way across your body as her hands were rubbing up and down your thigh for a moment — before she began to toy with the fabric underneath your skirt. She didn't question you this time, your body naturally grinding up against her hand being enough of an invite as she pushed aside the fabric. "fuck" you gasped as her fingers came in contact with your cunt. she teased you for a minute, brushing a finger up and down your slit as you desperately chased some form of friction — ellie letting out a scoff in response to the image. "ya really need this huh?" she spoke, your eyes locking onto hers while she practically taunted you. "mm y-yes-" you were cut off by your own moans as she pushed apart your folds, rubbing circles on your drenched clit. "god... already so wet f'me honey" she spoke, ans you let out another whine in response. "s'all okay.. i'll take good care of you” Ellie informed, her fingers now making their way to your entrance as she lowered herself down towards your legs. her movement was gentle, enough for you to fully take in every finger she carefully pushed into you. she started off slow, pulling in and out of you and paying close attention to your expression — how pathetic you looked trying to stay quiet while she fingered you. It was hard at first, but even harder once she started eating you out. her tongue, like a magnet to your clit. she sucked on you like it was her first and last meal — like she had to savour every moment of it. "e-ellie .. god it's too much please" you whined, unsure of what you were begging for — all Ellie could focus on was how good you tasted, how good you sounded for her, completely under her strength. "you taste amazing" she mumbled, her fingers speeding up their pace as her mouth stayed attached to your cunt. "prettiest pussy I've ever had" she added, and you let out a louder moan in response, quickly shutting yourself up when you caught it. but she wasn't having it, "don't ... don do that ... wanna hear you" she ordered, and you obeyed.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ you moans rang throughout the walls as ellie took her time with you. eating you out with her fingers buried inside of you — it was an overwhelming sensation you never wanted to end. "el.." you couldn't make out her full name through your moans, you were more than close — on edge, but she didn't stop. "i know .. c'mon baby i wanna taste you.. let go f'me" she assured you, not that you could really hold back with the way she was fucking you. "mm it's soso good please don't stop ... i'm gonna-" you let out a mix of moans and soft whines in response to her words. and as your orgasm came over you — you caught yourself inside of your head once again. thoughts were finally becoming coherent. but they were nothing close to negative, nothing close to what you had ever thought before. you were having sex with a complete stranger. you were giving into sex with a complete stranger, and it didn't feel bad. she didn't feel bad. there was no sense of guilt or worry. you we're completely indulged in her, just as she was you.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ You dozed off not too long after she was done with you. Ellie, who was ever so gentle with you once you came down from your high, treating you like a vase that could crack any moment — cleaned you up with care, offering to run you a bath and repeatedly apologizing for bruises that started to form on your inner thighs. Your body was sore in a way you hadn’t felt in years. but it wasn't from running this time, it wasn't from fighting or violence — only from the touch of another. the touch you allowed to be there. It was almost unsettling how good it felt. The motel room was quiet when you turned over again. The sheets were barely draped across your hip as you drifted in and out of sleep — your eyes struggling to open fully, though coming apart just enough for you to notice the space in bed beside you, empty with ellie's indent left in it. Your breath hitched, but you didn't move. your eyes and ears came into focus slowly, but once they did — you heard it. the soft shuffle of movement at the foot of the bed. A faint rustle. You turned your head only a bit, not enough to make a noise — and that's when you saw her crouched low, her back to you. Ellie’s hands were deep in the front pocket of your bag, the sight of it making you feel as if your heart had slammed against your ribs. you were frozen solid as you watched her quickly move throughout your belongings — your breath getting stuck in your throat when she slowed down. That's when you watched her closely. ellie stood up — the edge of a photograph clutched between her fingers before she placed it on the table and leaned back down, pulling out another. then another. then another. "fuck" you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes before she could notice you awake.

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

this is my first fic since january ... i promise it will get better with part two. tag list ; @dykeadvocate @abigaillovestoread @mabermaple @imdrowningindispair @dyk3ang3l @ellieshothousewife @lotudolly @euph0riafilms

[fastandcarlos]

“I Do” : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: follow along as the countdown to becoming mrs norris is on 🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 293,705 others

ynusername: last race week of the season, wedding season is officially under way 💕🤩

38,028 comments

username1: I can’t wait for all the wedding spam that’s coming our way!!

username2: lando as a husband is a vibe 🥺

landonorris: thank you for always supporting me again this season 🫶🏻

ynusername: @/landonorris always your biggest fan 💕

username3: another amazing year in the papaya 💪🏻🏎️

oscarpiastri: sorry where’s my congratulations for my season too???

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri congrats osc, I’m very proud of you too!

username4: osc 😭😭😭

username5: you two are everything omg

carmenmmundt: I cannot wait to make you a bride 🥺

lilymhe: bridesmaids assemble 🫡

username6: deep in my feels knowing these two are getting married in a couple of weeks

username7: please remember your fans and share everything with us 🙏🏻

georgerussell63: you just wait and see what we’ve got prepared for lan 😂

danielricciardo: can’t wait to lead your soon to be husband astray 😬

username8: why does this feel like it’s about to be the messiest wedding ever lmao

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liked by georgerussell63, danielricciardo and 1,593,604 others

landonorris: last trip before we get married, I think my face shows just how excited I am to marry you 🫶🏻

138,593 comments

tagged: ynusername

username9: I wish I had someone as excited to be with me as lando is with yn

username10: his smile 🤧🤧

maxverstappen1: you’ve got your vows to be soppy, keep it off of social media 😂

ynusername: thank you for the best time ❤️❤️❤️

username11: the outfits woah 🤩

username12: my heart can’t cope with much of the adorableness between these two

lewishamilton: talk about making everyone feel jealous about how happy you are 😂

charles_leclerc: we get it. you’re getting married. jeez.

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc do one party pooper 🙃

username13: if I don’t have a marriage like these two then I’m not interested

username14: oh how I wish I was yn right now 😭

carlossainz55: little lando norris is all grown up

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 but big lando norris where it matters 🤭

username15: pls say these two will be forever together

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liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and 483,605 others

ynusername: when people ask me what I see in lando to want to marry him, this is what I show them 😂💞

28,505 comments

tagged: landonorris

username16: can always count on yn to throw lando under the bus lmao

username17: thank you for reminding us what an idiot lando is

oscarpiastri: fyi he’s raging that you posted these 😂

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri remind him of all the times he’s done this to me hahah

username18: these are the photos we LOVE

danielricciardo: saving all these photos for future use as we speak 🤷🏻‍♂️

alex_albon: you’re a brave girl yn 😂😂

lilymhe: how are you so unserious all the damn time 🤦🏻‍♀️

username19: keep it coming pls yn I beg you

landonorris: remind me again why I’m marrying you when all you do is bully me

ynusername: @/landonorris because you love me 💞

username20: why does the second picture leave me with so many questions 😂😂😂😂

username21: it’s picture one for me ☺️

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liked by ynusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,795,203 others

landonorris: BEST STAG DO EVER 🍻

136,594 comments

ynusername: please say you arrived home in one piece 🤦🏻‍♀️

danielricciardo: @/ynusername can’t make any promises 🤐

username22: lord help us if daniel ricciardo organised lando’s stag do

username23: poor yn having to deal with the hangover from this 😂

oscarpiastri: and I promise not to show yn the photos of you doing body shots off of max

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri I don’t think I want to see these photos 😂😂

username24: wtf I wanna see these photos

georgerussell63: happy to give you the send off you deserve 🫡

username25: this sequence of photos is titled lando living his best life

username26: how many shots do we reckon were drunk last night??

pierregasly: remind me never to go out partying with you again

carlossainz55: I think I need about three weeks to recover from this 😭

username27: not lando wrecking all his fellow drivers

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liked by and 10,583 others

f1wags: congratulations are in order as today’s the day lando and yn tie the knot - wishing you guys the best day ever 💕🥂

960 comments

username28: ah I can’t wait to see all the photos from this

username29: I’ve never met two people so in love

username30: so glad they’re getting their happy ending 💕🤧

username31: the perfect match finally tying the knot 😭

username32: I’ve got major fomo today omg ☺️

username33: I never imagined lando even getting married until he met yn

username34: praying we get lots of content from the boys today 🤞🏻

username35: hoping they have the best time, they deserve everything!!

username36: I’d do anything to be there and see lando in his suit

username37: I can’t believe the day has finally arrived, I’m not even getting married and I’m nervous

username38: mr and mrs norris 🧡🧡🧡🧡

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liked by and 9,492 others

f1updates: here’s just some of the drivers suited and booted as they attended the norris wedding today, they all look great 🤵🏻🏎️

1,302 comments

username39: how can a trio of men be so beautiful 😭

username40: asking for a friend…are any of these single???

username41: now this is the content I wanted from today 😂

username42: anyone else wondering what charles was thinking with those sunglasses hahah

username43: not carlos looking like the finest best man to exist

username44: petition for these guys to appear at my wedding too pls

username45: if these guys are a warm up I can’t wait to see what lando looked like

username46: my heart is so happy that all the drivers showed up too

username47: I can’t wipe the smile from my face after seeing these photos ☺️

username48: race suits, formal suits, these guys pull off anything 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 783,504 others

ynusername: the day I’ve dreamt of since I was a little girl, so proud to be your wife lando norris 🥺🫶🏻

54,593 comments

landonorris: the best day of my life, so happy to be able to call you mine forever 💞

username49: congratulations you guys!!

oscarpiastri: thank you for inviting me and lily to be part of your special day 🥺

danielricciardo: well done for not messing up your speech 👏🏻

landonorris: @/danielricciardo it was touch and go for a while 😂

username50: I can’t believe my favourite duo are officially married!!

maxverstappen1: best wedding I’ve ever been too…lando’s dad dancing aside 😝

alex_albon: you guys are the cutest, so happy for you both 🫶🏻🥂

username51: I can’t get over how adorable these photos are

username52: the smile on yn’s face omg 🤩

carlossainz55: proud dad over here 😂😂

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 best in law ever!

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liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 2,043,483 others

landonorris: I could get used to married life 😂 honeymooning with the most beautiful bride in the world ❤️

78,492 comments

ynusername: cannot wait to spend forever with you my love 💞🫶🏻

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[100vern]

begging for the next | hjs

we could be lovers in the night // we could be strangers in the light.

✦ pairing: joshua x f. reader ✦ genre: strangers to fwb, secret lovers au; smut, fluff ✦ summary: no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you. ✦ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ✦ warnings: joshua is some degree of famous but not explicitly stated to be an idol (choose your own adventure), he is also down very very horrendous, use of pet names for reader (beautiful, baby, angel, etc.), reader wears a dress, one brief mention of hair, swearing, other things i have probably forgotten. i am incapable of writing pure pwp so this got a lot softer than i intended but they're in love so fuck it we ball. ✦ smut warnings: gendered terms for genitalia, a lot of kissing, a handjob, fingers in mouths bc it's me and somehow they always end up there, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of cum play idk how that happened sorry, hair pulling, fingering, grinding, mentions of facesitting, oral sex in general, joshua spits in reader's mouth, begging and dirty talk, public sex (in a car), exhibitionism, masturbation, very slight edging, shua gets called a good boy one time, reader on top, joshua carries her and fucks her against a wall, they both get a lil possessive in the heat of the moment but nothing toxic. ✦ wordcount: 5.8k ✦ author's note: idk where this came from. i was listening to "english love affair" by 5sos months ago and was like hm yeah joshua. title is from that song; other lyrics are from "lovers in the night" by seori. thank you to bee (@imnotshua) and jess (@starlightkyeom) for looking this over for me along the way. thank u, love u both. i am far too embarrassed to read my own smut so this is unedited and any mistakes are my own.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him.

Fans, paparazzi, strangers—after a while, it all starts to blend together. Always starts feeling hazy around the edges, like there’s something there, just beyond the fog, just out of his reach.

He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to come to this club. Probably just one of those things: owned by a friend of a friend, discretion implied and assured, top-shelf shit handed out without needing to ask. He’s sequestered behind a velvet rope, feels like a king lording over his subjects, has a hawk-eye view of everything.

Everyone.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him, and he felt yours as soon as he walked in.

Cute, he thinks. He hadn’t been looking to pull, hadn’t wanted to deal with all the conversations and all the aftermath, but sometimes he’s easily persuaded. Intrigued, more like. Most people watch him like they’ve got their eyes closed—shy, hiding away, unsure of what they could possibly offer him that he can’t find in anyone else. But you watch him with eyes wide open. Confident, self-assured, know exactly what you’ve got to offer. All but daring him to find something better.

It’s raining when you drag him outside. When you smirk crooked out of the corner of your mouth, plant your hands in the center of his chest and press him to the building’s exterior, drag a groan out of him when the brick bites into his skin. Joshua kisses you like he’s a little desperate for it. Licks into your mouth and swallows all the sounds you make. Hikes your leg around his waist, digs his thumbs into your hips, presses in close enough to have you rolling your hips against his cock.

Imagines the scandal if he got caught fucking you in public—

He asks, between nips at your neck: “Where do you live, beautiful?”

You answer, with your hand halfway down the front of his jeans: “Not far.”

—and lets the thought of it wash over him, make him a little frenzied and wanting. He moans as he grows harder. Thinks about what you’re gonna feel like around his cock, all hot and tight, dripping wet. Thinks about how breathless and fucked-out you’ll sound when you pant his name into the space between your mouth and his own. Thinks about how hot you’re gonna look when you’re falling apart on his cock, when he’s pumping you full of cum.

“Shit,” he whines, “let’s go, then.”

Halfway to your car he decides he can’t wait. Doesn’t want to. Could barely stumble the couple hundred feet to the parking lot with how hard he is, how overwhelming he finds you. Finds himself making any excuse he can to press in close and inhale your perfume. Finds himself thinking that doing anything that isn’t burying himself inside of you seems absolutely pointless.

And you aren’t helping. Can’t seem to keep your hands off of him—lips on his throat, words in his ear, nails digging into his back, pulling at his belt, untucking his shirt, yanking on his hair. You smile when he hisses at the sting and the only thought that registers is he’s never wanted to ruin anyone so badly.

So he says, “Get in the backseat. I’m fucking you right here, baby,” and follows right behind you, desire licking at his heels.

He laughs low and heated as you push him into the seat, your legs spread wide as you straddle him. He pulls his jeans down just enough for you to fish out his cock and spit on it, hips thrusting when you pump him once, twice, pulling small, breathy whines from him each time you twist your wrist, thumb over the head. Embarrassing, he thinks, how close he is to cumming in his pants like a fucking teenager, so he grabs at one of your hands, stills your motions. Moves it to your mouth, tells you to taste the pre-cum coating your fingers just to buy himself a minute, he just needs a minute, and he decides time is meaningless when he sees your tongue move between your pointer and middle, when you moan at the taste of him.

Nearly loses it entirely when you press those same fingers to his own lips, press them against his own tongue.

“Tastes so good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, and he’s struck, not for the first time tonight, by how beautiful you are. Mesmerized by the rain that still clings to your eyelashes, the droplets that run down your temple. Feels dizzy when his brain finally comes back online and he reaches for the hem of your dress, pushes it up and over your hips.

His hand moves to the space between your thighs, rubs over the thin fabric of your panties. He grins wide and sleazy at the wetness he finds there; pushes his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he slides them to the side and touches you properly. Thumbs small circles over your clit just to hear the way your breath hitches, feel the way your hips cant towards his fingers. Any other time he’d take it slow, drag it out, tell you to beg in his soft, pretty voice,, but he doesn’t have the benefit of time when he’s crammed into the backseat of your car.

Doesn’t have the benefit of much of anything when you lower your bare pussy to his cock. Already overwhelmed by your heat, he doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the guttural, instinctual sound that escapes him, the way his hands move to your hips to keep you in place. The that’s it, that’s it, baby, just like that, could fucking come from this that tumble from his lips as you start moving along his length.

Your scoff is aborted halfway as Joshua lifts his hips to meet yours. “Abso—fuck—absolutely not,” you breathe, kissing along his jawline. “Need you to fuck me.”

He groans at the thought of it. Curses the seat belt digging into his back as he readjusts to move you where he wants you, where he can bury two fingers deep in your cunt and watch, entranced, as your eyes roll back. “Mm, wa-want you to come like this first.”

“Later,” you bargain. “Gotta be quick, don’t want you to get caught.”

Joshua knows you’re right. Knows he’d thought about it earlier, let the fantasy of it dance at the edges of his vision, knows in the realm of fantasy is where that particular thought needs to stay, but he can’t say he isn’t tempted to put on a show for the entire world. Wants everyone to see both of you sweat-slick, panting hard into the thick air of your car, windows fogged. Wants everyone to hear the sounds he’s pulling from you: the breathy whimpers, your pussy squelching around his fingers, skin on skin as he can’t keep his hips against the seat.

He can tell you’re close. Knows if he angled his fingers just a little more you’d be clenching around them, and he wants to see it—god he wants to see it so bad—but he knows you’re right, knows there’ll be plenty of time to have you come undone in every way possible later, later, later, so he reluctantly removes his fingers. Doesn’t have time to consider what to do with them before you’re sucking them into your mouth and all he can do is watch, slack-jawed. Doesn’t have time to think about how it’d feel if it was his cock instead before you’re grabbing it, lining him up, almost crazed at the way your fingers don’t meet around his girth—and then you’re sinking down on him.

Good thing the two of you don’t have time to drag this out, because he’s on the precipice of a truly pathetic performance.

“God, you’re fucking tight, baby, can barely move—”

Your smile is predatory when you throw your head back. “Don’t need you to,” you say, moving your hands to his knees. “I can get myself off just fine.”

You can—that much is obvious. The way you’re rolling your hips is sinful at best and the absolute end of Joshua at worst, but he’ll accept his fate if this is how he’s destined to go out. Would consider it an honor to die like this between your legs, chasing oblivion. Can’t imagine a life where he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your tight heat every single day for the rest of his life. Feels delirious with the need for it, has to reign himself in when he either starts crying or asks for your hand in marriage, and you must see it, must be able to tell how fucked up you’ve got him, because you seem to delight in it, start moving at a pace that has him gripping white-knuckled at the seat, at the fabric of your dress, at your hips, your chest.

“You gonna cum like this?” you say, breath fanning against his skin. He nods, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Embarrassment has his cheeks burning, skin hot to the touch, but shit, it feels good, the way you’re digging at him. Pulling him up on how far gone he is for you.

He needs you to meet him at the edge. Needs more, needs it messier, faster, harder than what you’re able to do in the confines of the car, so he plants his feet, grabs so roughly at your ass he’s sure it’ll bruise. Tries desperately to thrust through the mess between your legs, but you’re so wet he nearly slips out each time, and it drives him insane. Has him nearly feral, mindlessly chasing both his orgasm and your own, and he knows it’s close, feels the lightning beneath his skin.

You’re falling apart on his cock as soon as he circles your clit. Shaking, clenching so hard your pussy feels like a vice, grabbing blindly for anything you can to anchor yourself. You find his hands and twine your fingers together—and he’ll never be able to explain it, that that’s what has him gasping, stilling as he spills inside you, but even as he cums so hard it nearly whites out his vision, he can still feel you there.

Anchoring him.

Something stupid is about to tumble out of his mouth, so he quickly presses it to yours to try and stem the bleeding.

Joshua is used to people wanting things from him.

Autographs. Selfies. His undivided attention, his time, a pull quote for an article. Someone always wants something, and it’s exhausting, you know, having to anticipate that kind of thing—having to determine what someone wants before they pluck up the courage to ask for it, having to decide if he’s in a position to give it to them, having to decide, decide, decide, always a fucking decision to be made.

So it’s no surprise he’s here, barely back in the country an hour before he’s stumbling across the threshold of your front door, hat pulled low, not for anyone else to see. Because here, he’s safe; here, all those pretenses come crashing down around him. Here, he knows what’s expected of him, doesn’t have to guess—only has to take the hand you offer him and follow you up the stairs.

But it’s just… a lot, finally being here. All he could think about while he was gone was you. Kept replaying each memory over and over: the first time he’d come here, after the scene in your car—the way you’d smiled at him, hung up his jacket by the door, asked if he wanted anything to eat or drink, maybe a hot shower. And it had felt so sleazy, the way he’d smiled and said, ‘what, all by myself?’ but it’d worked, and then that was something else to replay. That was something else to remember: the smell of you all over him. Your soap on his skin; your shampoo in his hair.

Thinks he’s replayed that—the softness of it, the care, how nice it’d felt to just exist alongside somebody—more than the rest.

Not that the rest wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d nearly cum in his pants remembering the way you’d pinned his arms above his head and sat on his face—the visual of you from below, hips rolling; the taste of you on his tongue; the way you said his name when you came, breathless and fractured. The way he’d slid into you from behind, nearly mindless from the way your pussy gripped him. The way he’d pressed you flat to the mattress and kissed all the knots in your spine. The way your skin looked after he’d pulled out and came all over the small of your back.

He’s got a similar view now. It hadn’t really been planned, his coming here—he’d been worked up on the flight, sent a Hail Mary text asking if he could come by instead of going home, and it had taken you a bit to respond, to say sure, missed you, so it was understandable that you’d greeted him at the door in a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a cropped tank. He expected it, but it undoes him nonetheless.

You’re better than this, he chides himself. Has a tremendous amount of guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach because he can’t stop staring, takes that gentlemanly reputation he’s got and sets it ablaze, but he thinks anyone who’d dare to criticize him for it would understand.

On autopilot, he follows you up the stairs to your bedroom. Tries to look at anything other than your ass and fails in milliseconds. Swallows down another serving of guilt and cannot, for the life of him, recall another time he ever felt like this—the foothold you’ve got on him, the way you have him believing he’s capable of being a real person, but so untethered at the same time, like any second now he’ll drift away. Tempted. Desperate. Joshua cannot make a life for himself here, both in your home and within your body, but—

“Sometimes I look at you and I understand why Eve ate that apple.”

You pause, three steps from the landing, and your eyes are soft when you turn to look at him. You’ve never looked at him any other way, with any less tenderness and care. “And how am I meant to take that?” Joshua flusters, misses the next step, and when you reach out a hand to steady him, Joshua laces your fingers together. “Smooth.”

“You know me,” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, when what he really means is, not around you, not within these four walls. “I just meant—”

You grip his hand tighter, pull him closer, dizzy him when you lean in close and murmur, “I know. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

This time is different.

All that typical raw, frenzied need gives way to tenderness. Right there on the landing of your staircase, unable to go another step without you, Joshua lays you down, cradles your head in his hands, and drapes his body over yours. Cages you in like he’s trying to keep you forever, like he has any right to, and he kisses you much the same. Wants your breath to be his. Wants to find any opening you’re willing to give him and crawl inside of it. Wants to make a home out of your body more than he already has.

Presses his lips to your neck. Drags his teeth along the curve of your jaw, rolls his hips against you when your head tilts back and you sigh soft and stuttered. Nips at your skin all the way to the lobe of your ear, where he presses in close, thumbs at the exposed skin covering your hip bones. Whispers, “Is it okay right here, like this?” Skims his hands down, down, down—pulls your skimpy little shorts to the side and finds you bare and waiting. “Oh, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

You squirm. Try to get his fingers where you want them. Huff when he teases and refuses even though the need is just as apparent in him. “Shua,” you whimper.

He clicks his tongue. Feigns disappointment. “Angel.” Speaks every word into your heated skin. “You know you only have to tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You pout. “You’re being so mean to me,” you try. Joshua chuckles, pulls back so he can cock an eyebrow and say oh, really? I’m being mean to you? You nod, sink your bottom teeth into your bottom lip. Dip your hands beneath the fabric of Joshua’s t-shirt and drag your nails down his chest until he whimpers. “You were gone so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

“You know I—you know I did.”

“You did?” Your brows furrow in faux-disbelief, your pout deepens; your hands follow the same path Joshua’s had only moments earlier. You toy with the waistband of his pants and tease your fingertips underneath. “You missed me so much but you won’t even touch me?”

With his free hand, he grabs your chin, forces the pout off your face. Doesn’t miss the way your pupils blow wide before he’s kissing you hard and messy, so intense it feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs. “No,” he says, finally giving you what you want. Circles his thumb over your clit and wants to drown in all the sounds you make—the way you mewl, how you say his name on an exhale, all the words given up on halfway. “I miss you so much I thought about you every second I was gone. Thought I was going crazy with it.” Sinks two fingers into your slick heat. “Thought about the way you felt around me.” You gasp at his words and your pussy clenches, and Joshua hums. Says, “Exactly, baby, just like that.”

He can feel that you’re already close. Has a split-second to decide if he wants to let you come like this before you take the decision away from him. Your deft fingers play at the button of his pants, drag the zipper over the bulge there as he hisses, and then you tilt your head back. Something wicked gleams in your eye. “Spit in my mouth.”

Joshua falters, fucks up his rhythm, but he can’t deny you of anything, so he slips his thumb in your mouth and forces it open. Collects whatever spit he has and watches, enraptured and so close to being out of his mind, as he lets it go, as it pools on your tongue. “Fuck—”

Your smile is dazed, both of you on the verge of delirious, and then it’s gone, replaced by the visual of you licking the length of your palm. Making a show of it. You press two fingers against your tongue and Joshua watches as your eyes glass over. “Tell me what else you thought about,” are the last words you say before you wrap your slick hand around his cock.

“Shit—god, baby, you always make me feel so fucking good.” And you do—you work him over slow just to watch the way his eyes roll back, how his entire body shudders; thumb at his cockhead when he gets carried away and starts thrusting into your tight fist, brainless in the face of what you’re providing and unable to do anything except chase more of it. His hips roll again—one, two more times—and then he’s babbling, nonsense spilling out of his mouth.

Tells you that he thought about your touch and the way you taste. Tells you how he let it consume him and all the nights he spent touching himself to the thought of you. How he’d bring himself to the edge and force himself to stop just before he came and how he’d do it all over again, over and over, until he was breathless and sweat-slick—that when he was in the midst of it, so incoherent and numb from pleasure… that sometimes he’d open his eyes and swear it was you. Swear he could feel your lips ghosting across his skin, your sweet words in his ear, praising him as he came all over his own stomach and trembled with the aftershocks.

With each confession he gets more carried away. Circles his thumb faster on your clit. Slips another finger into you and presses insistently against your g-spot until you’re writhing and frenetic with need, his name sounding like a prayer as it spills from your lips repeatedly, each one blending into the next, a continuous mantra designed to drag him down with you. Joshua has never felt you this wet, soaking his hand, and he knows he isn’t faring any better. Feels how each slide of your fist along his length is easier than the last.

“Fuck, Shua, I’m gonna—”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, beautiful, give it to me. Wanna see my angel cum all over me. Fuck, just like that—so fucking beautiful, I missed you so goddamn much. Mm, shit, you’re gonna make me cum too. God, I—”

“On me,” you beg. “Please, wan’ it on me. Please, please, want it so bad—”

He swears as his hips stutter. Feels like his fucking balls are in his stomach as he takes over, uses everything he’d earned from you to jerk himself. Stops you when you move to pull your tank over your tits. “No,” he slurs. He’s so fucking close. “Wanna cum all over your clothes and fucking ruin ‘em. Wanna see you covered in it, in me.”

He sits back on his haunches. Uses his free hand to grab at the meat of your thigh as the force of his orgasm hits and he gives you exactly what you’d asked for. Forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as his release spills across your pussy, your stomach; as it seeps through the thin fabric of your top. But it’s not—Joshua has never considered himself a greedy man, but it’s not enough, so he keeps fisting his cock. Keeps going until he’s oversensitive and spent and he’s milked himself dry. Until your top is wet and sticky with his release, your nipples just barely visible through the translucent fabric.

He’s breathing hard. Stares down at the mess he’s made of you and tells you you’re a work of art. Drags his fingers through it and can’t decide if he wants to massage it into your skin or press it into your mouth, so he does both. Groans softly when you wrap your swollen lips around his fingers and swallow down the taste of him.

Moves them back to your clit and smirks at the breath you suck in through your teeth—that you’re still so sensitive but don’t dare tell him to stop. “I’m not done with you yet,” he confesses, kissing down the length of your body until he’s eye-level with your cunt. “Is that okay?”

You nod.

His phone sits abandoned on the nightstand.

The text thread is still open and awaiting his reply, but Joshua has long since abandoned it to focus his attention on you. From where he’s parallel on the bed, he can see you in the bathroom: watches as you step out of the shower, no towel, droplets of water running down the length of your body; watches as you only grab one to wrap it around your hair, as you stand naked in front of the mirror and do your skincare. Watches as you slip all of your jewelry back on and the gold glints against your skin.

Watches as your reflection meets his eye.

He feels it immediately, the goosebumps, the way his hair stands on end. Predator watching prey, caught in your web ever since that night at the club, so he sits up straighter, anticipates your next move with bated breath—knows what it does to you to be watched. How powerful you become when you’re no longer weighed down by your inhibitions. How you smirk dirty out of the corner of your mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, pull hard enough to capture his attention. Eyes on me, you purr, but he can never look anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to even if he could. Wants you to always be the last thing he sees.

There’s that same smirk on your face now: provocative and a little roguish, like you know something he doesn’t. All he can do is hold your gaze and wait to be devoured.

“They’re starting to talk, aren’t they?”

Joshua looks for a tell, something that belies your anxiety at finally getting caught out, but if it exists you’ve got it behind lock and key. Instead, you roll your head to the side, run your fingers over the marks he’d left on your neck just this morning, the sun barely above the horizon. He feels his skin grow warm, almost embarrassed as the bright lights of the bathroom highlight all the places he’d sunk his teeth into you, but something furls in his belly that you’d let him do it. That you’d let him possess you.

Feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he watches you bend at the waist, as it affords him a glimpse of your pussy; as you lean down and trail your fingers from ankle to thigh, as the expanse of soft, smooth skin pebbles beneath your touch. Watches as you straighten and meet his eye in the mirror again before you raise one leg onto the counter; as you lean forward to grab your lotion and the glimpse of you he’d gotten before returns tenfold. Even from here, he can tell you’re dripping wet; can tell the insides of your thighs are glistening with it.

“That’s who you were texting, right? Your manager?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through clenched teeth. Enraptured once again, unable to look away. Watches as you massage the lotion into your skin—the one he likes the most, the one that always stains his bedsheets the longest. Musk and vanilla. Feels himself growing hard and palms at his cock, unabashed, wanting you to see what you do to him.

Swallows all the whiny little sounds he wants to make and manages to ask, “Does it bother you if they are?”

Whether it’s his question or his tone that piques your attention, you pause, turning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes darkening as you take in the sight of him touching himself. He knows how he looks. Head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, bare chest heaving. How his thick cock looks as it strains against the expensive silk of his shorts. Thinks about all the praise you’ve lavished upon him and knows he’s earned every word of it.

So he gives in. Lets the pleasure wash over him and make him bold as he touches himself with more intention, as he runs two fingers over the seam of his balls, as he tightens his grip and moans, uncaring of who might hear. He registers the dip in the mattress at the same time that familiar lightning starts making its way up his spine. He’s senseless as he chases after it, always a step behind despite wanting more, more, always more; loses himself in the gluttony of his intemperance.

It’s only when he’s on the verge of something truly mind-numbing do you lose your patience—when you straddle his waist and pin his hands at his side. A sob escapes him as his hips thrust uselessly, searching hysterically for friction. Tears prick pathetically at the corner of his eyes, and he knows he needs to look at you, knows you’re expecting it, but every inch of his skin burns with the force and the violence of the orgasm you’d denied him.

You tsk. All condescension as you say, “My poor baby.” All sharp edges when you ask, “Will you be a good boy and keep your hands where they are?”

Despite both of you knowing he’d promise you anything right now, Joshua nods, nearly feverish and rabid with the need to cum. Wants to fill you up until it’s leaking down his shaft. Wants to fuck it back into you with his fingers. Wants you on all fours, back arched so only your hips and ass are in the air, while he eats his load out of you from behind.

Of course, you have ideas of your own.

You trace over the wet spot of his shorts just to watch his cheeks ruddy. Leave bruises on his hips before your fingers move to the waistband, toying with him as you snap the elastic against his skin and relish in the way he whines, how he grasps at the sheets to keep his hands still. Pleas fill his mouth and never make it past his lips, and he’ll beg if he has to, if you make him, but you don’t. Slowly and deliberately, you work his shorts down and off; don’t waste a second before you’re sinking down onto his cock.

Every inch is agonizing, blinding heat. Joshua cries out, both unable and unwilling to censor himself. Doesn’t see the need for it when it feels like every atom in his body is being rearranged, like you’re collecting pieces of him to replace with you, embedding yourself beneath his skin. And he’ll let you—fuck, will he let you; wants to carve out a home for you within his body, wants you ingrained in him forever. Doesn’t ever want to be buried this deeply inside anyone else.

When you kiss him it tastes like devotion. He seals his mouth over yours so it can’t escape, so it has nowhere to go but down into your chest to fill the spaces between each of your ribs. And to hell with listening, he thinks, because he can’t go another second without touching you. One hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, closer, impossibly closer, keeping you where you are, with your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth; the other digs into the meat of your ass, dimples the skin there, helps guide your cunt along the length of his cock, so soaked every thrust nearly has him slipping out.

He knows every time he hits the spot that makes your vision white out, feels how you clench around him despite the sopping mess between your legs. Slows his pace. Pulls back only far enough to say, “Back and forth, angel. That’s it. Grind that pretty pussy against me and get yourself off—fuck, you feel so good.”

He groans. Feels his grip on reality begin to falter with the noises falling from your lips; all your breathy, fractured whines. “That’s it, that’s it—god, you’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, shit, I can feel it. So fucking dirty, baby, love it when you fuck me like this—”

You come with a sob, body pulling taut, panting his name into what little space exists between you. Joshua swears, tries to fuck you through the aftershocks, but you’re wrapped around him like a vice, cunt so tight he can barely move.

He’s delirious. Always gets lightheaded watching you fall apart: the way your eyes squeeze shut, how dazed they look right after you open them again—how Joshua is always, always the first thing you make sense of when everything comes back into focus. And he’s going to say something stupid, something he can’t take back even if he means it, so he situates the two of you, uses all the strength he can muster to carry you across the room.

In the midst of his self-indulgence he forgot he’d left the door to the balcony open, wanted the sticky July breeze to blow in from the lake, and the wall next to that open door is where he places you. The backs of your knees in the crooks of his elbows; his lips on your neck, tongue tracing over the bruises he’d left. You’ve barely come down from your high before he’s fucking back into you, and he can tell it’s almost too much, that he’s towing a very fine line, so he eases his pace and rolls his hips slow.

Tells you, against the space just beneath your ear, how beautiful you look, how well you take him. “I should fuck you out on that balcony. They should see this,” he murmurs, voice deceivingly soft, all those possessive tendencies flaring in his gut. “All those people out there, they should see how well I fuck you, how you only come for me, only come around this cock.” His words are accentuated with a harsh snap of his hips that has you crying out—a rasping, guttural sound that douses the last threads of his discretion in kerosine and sets them on fire. “Let them hear you,” he urges, words slurring together, “let them know who I belong to.”

It’s faint, but he hears it anyway: “Me. Me, you belong to—shit, to me.”

“That’s fucking right.”

You clench around him again, eyes rolling back, and Joshua knows he’s approaching his own end as his thrusts grow uncoordinated and sloppy. He asks if you can come again and tells you to touch yourself when you nod. Wishes he could see it, but he feels each swipe of your fingers against your clit as your walls flutter around him, and it’s enough to drag you both over the edge.

Once he catches his breath, he drops to his knees in front of you. Places one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses every inch of skin he can reach until he’s once again eye-level with your pussy, each one of his senses overwhelmed—the way your skin feels, the way you smell, the sound of your breath hitching when he flattens his tongue against your cunt and tastes himself, the disbelief and adoration in your eyes as you gaze down at him.

You finally answer the question he forgot he’d asked: “No,” you say, the word coming at the trail end of a blissful sigh, “it doesn’t bother me. Let them—let them talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joshua smiles. Bites at the juncture of your thigh just to watch you squirm. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you leave this room.”

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The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.