#like she knew the difference she just said the wrong thing

[natalievoncatte]

There was something decidedly… insistent about Lena’s footsteps. Kara knew it was her, of course, when she picked up Lena heading towards her apartment. Not just her heart rate but her breathing and mumbling to herself and the way she walked, her footfalls painting a picture of how she was walking, and she was mad.

Kara expected a complaint when she opened the door. Lena would sometimes launch without preamble into a rant about this investor or that senator or some such executive at this or that company and just rant adorably, balling her little fists. Kara would never tell her, because she’d feel patronized, but Lena genuinely was cute when she was angry.

Well, annoyed. When she was really angry, throwing a fit angry, fed up with the world angry, she was something else entirely. Kara would move heaven and earth, quite literally, to address whatever bothered her. When she was sad it was even worse and Kara just wanted to bundle her up in her invulnerable arms and shelter her from everything forever.

Lena walked into the apartment, not looking at Kara, and clearly fuming. She dropped the order she’d picked up on the way into the kitchen island and stared at it, then finally glared at Kara. There was no mistaking the subject of her anger.

Kara fidgeted nervously. She shifted on her feet, feeling a pressure of Lena’s gaze that forced her own away.

“Lena? Is something wrong?” She swallowed, hard. “Bad day?”

“Something is wrong,” Lena said, very softly, in the icy tone she reserved for the fools she did not suffer gladly. “Take off your glasses.”

“What?”

“Take off your glasses, Kara.”

“But I can’t see…”

Lena stepped forward and put her hand on the takeout order in its plastic bag. Kara had ordered it and Lena had agreed to pick it up, far from be first time they’d done that. Lena often ordered for them and Kara brought it when Lena was hosting.

Right now Lena was trembling, head tilted forward like she meant to charge, eyes locked on Kara.

“Glasses. Off.”

Kara hesitated briefly.

“Okay,” she muttered, screaming at herself not to do this, pleading for some kind of distraction.

All she wanted to do tonight was curl up with Lena on the couch and watch a movie and focus very very hard on not giving away how badly she wanted to make out with her.

Kara slowly took the earpieces in her hands and slipped them off, setting the too-heavy frames on the table with a soft clunk. The word rushed in, sounds more vibrant and distracting, colors almost unpleasantly sharp.

Lena was staring at her. Her nostrils flared and her fists clenched. She took her hand from the food bag and took another step forward, then another, finally picking up the glasses in her own hand, feeling them. She raised them as if to put them on and stared through them.

“For someone who says she’s blind without them, these glasses don’t have a very strong prescription, do they.”

Possibilities raced through Kara’s mind. Things she could say, things she might do. She’d squeaked out of this before, somehow evaded Lena’s staggering intellect. She had seen curiosity darken her brows, maybe even brief moments of suspicion.

This was different. Heavier. More serious.

“What gave me away?”

“Everything, really. All the pieces were there this whole time, but I just refused to put them together on my own. It took a flat out slap in the face to make me choose to see it.”

Kara’s chest felt like it was caving in. Everything was going wrong. Her chin quivered and the tears began welling hot behind her eyes.

Lena looked at her flatly. “The guy at the take out place asked me why I was picking up Supergirl’s order. I asked him what the hell he was talking about and he told me Supergirl comes on all the time. Then he showed me a selfie.”

Kara licked her lips.

“It has to be a mistake.”

“They have your number on their speed dial as Supergirl, Kara. You let their delivery kid take a selfie in your suit. They wouldn’t let me pay for it. The old lady that owns the place said ‘Supergirls girlfriend, no charge!’ and started laughing.”

Kara stared at her.

“Lena…”

“You better have a good fucking explanation for why your favorite restaurant knows who you really are and not your supposed best friend.”

The tension in their air was palpable, electric. Kara could feel it like the gathering energy in the air before a storm, ready to burst forth with energy and life or mindless destruction. She folded her arms around herself and looked down.

“You do know me,” Kara finally said. “You do know who I really am. You’re the only person who does.”

Lena’s extension was fixed, intense, edging between a scowl and a pout, and Kara realized with a start that she was holding back tears of her own.

“You’re the only person that knows me as me. You know me without Supergirl, but without all the fake stuff I do so people won’t realize I’m Supergirl. I don’t have to pretend to be clumsy with you. You’re not always looking at me like I’m super strong or super fast. I can just be me when I’m with you.”

“You’ve lied to me so many times,” Lena said, after drawing in a deep breath. “Running away from our lunches, telling me wild stories about where you disappear to at work, and I just bought every bit of it. You must think I’m an easy mark.”

“No, never.”

“I’ve always had it in the back of my head. I always thought there was something there, something between us that kept you from really, truly being yourself with me. The way your touches are always so whisper-light and you’re always stealing glances at me. Like you were afraid with every word or movement that you’d give something away.”

“Lena,” Kara began.

“I knew you were hiding something. I had hoped it was something else.”

Kara licked her lips. She quickened her perception, a little trick of will that took her out of sync with the humans around her, processing the world at her natural speed, which made her peers seem almost frozen in place by comparison.

She took this drawn out instant to really look at Lena, truly take her in, savor what she was seeing because it might be the end. She was suddenly heavily, painfully aware that this might be the last time she ever looked on Lena in person.

Great father Rao, she was so beautiful. Not hot or pretty or even gorgeous or sexy, beautiful. She was dressed for the autumn chill in a pea coat and turtleneck and black leggings and her hair was down, letting itself soften into her natural waves. She was without makeup, and Kara suddenly realized that she only ever saw Lena without makeup when she meant to be alone with Kara. When she was her most pure, most true self.

Kara slowed herself again and as she did the world sped up, and she drank in the soft sadness in Lena’s blue-green eyes and all of those things she’d pushed deep down came bubbling to the surface: imagined sighs and the feeling of that lustrous inky hair slipping through her fingers, her name whispered on pillowy lips.

Human thoughts. Alien thoughts. Desires no Kryptonian should even apprehend, much less indulge. The very idea of the non-procreative act was shameful, and to develop these emotional entanglement…

Kara had once mourned her failure, for she had been charged with preserving the ways of her people. Her first command had been to keep Kal Kryptonian.

A task she had failed even within herself.

“You hoped it was something else?”

Lena looked at her so sadly and so sweetly and swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said in a thick voice, “I kinda did.”

Kara smiled in spite of herself. When she sighed, it was as if the weight of a world slid off her shoulders.

“Can’t a girl have two secrets?”

Lena’s eyes widened.

“One day a long time ago, very very far away, a young Kara looked over her shoulder and watched the shockwave shatter the crust of her planet as its core exploded. She lost everything. Her world, her family, her culture, so many things. Tastes. Colors. Places. All gone.”

Lena wrapped her arms around herself, averting her gaze.

“I knew I’d lose you eventually. I just wanted to keep you as long as I could.”

Lena reached up and rubbed at her eyelids with her fingers.

“Do you remember when your mom’s goons threw you off the balcony?”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Do you remember how I held you when I caught you?”

“I do.”

“I wish I hadn’t lied. I wish I’d never put you down.”

Lena said nothing and did not look up. Kara could hear her heart racing, practically feel the tension in her limbs across the room.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lied. I’ve always known I could never keep you, I just didn’t want to make it end.”

Lena looked up with tear-wet eyes.

Then she lunged across the room, crossing the gap between them in long strides. Kara Danvers -Kara Zoe-El, Supergirl- was caught almost completely off guard. It wasn’t until Lena was practically charging into her arms, leaping into her, that she remembered to cushion the impact, catch her gently and make sure she didn’t slam herself into an unyielding wall of Kara.

She was so surprised, so shocked into helpless acceptance, that she didn’t offer the slightest residence when Lena reached, grabbed her neck in a firm hold, and pulled her into a kiss. Kara’s stomach did a backflip and she was helpless, undone despite all her strength. For a moment both their eyes opened and they looked at each other in a wordless exchange and Kara began kissing her back in earnest. Lena’s sharp breaths and soft moans instantly kindled a hot need inside her, thrumming like a plucked guitar string, and she effortlessly lifted Lena onto the kitchen counter.

“Holy shit, you’re strong,” Lena breathed.

“Of course I am,” she whispered into Lena’s kiss. “I’m Supergirl.”

And at long last, Kara found something she wanted to taste more than potstickers.

[lqveharrington]

Loathing | D.M.

summary: you and draco have loathed one another since first year, but you know something happened over the summer before your sixth year. he had changed.

pairing: rival!draco malfoy x potter!reader

includes: fluff, angst, bleeding, both of them being oblivious, both of them taking care of each other

a/n: unadulterated loathing (guess who watched wicked last week?)

The moment you met Draco Malfoy – well, the moment he insulted one of your friends and then wanted to be friends with your brother – you knew you would loathe him for the rest of your life. From every glare from across the room to house rivalries, you loathed him for all you had. Especially when he ruined your Yule Ball experience by knocking the eggnog on you and refusing to explain why, only glaring instead.

But something changed in your sixth year. He changed.

Usually, the second you got on the train to Hogwarts, he would find you and start with the insults, but this year was different. Hell, when you were trying to find Harry on the train when you got to Hogwarts, Draco walked past you without even sparing a glance. He wasn’t even in his Slytherin robes, he was just in a black suit.

Then when the quidditch season started, you learned that he had quit his position as seeker and chance as quidditch captain. You were surprised he lost almost all interest in the sport itself when he used to brag on and on about how good he was at the game. Everything he used to egg you on about was close to nothing, and it worried you just a little.

You knew something was different – he was different – and wanted to know what happened, but you knew your friends couldn’t care less about the Slytherin Prince.

“Hermoine, please tell me you noticed something wrong with Malfoy.” You murmur and enter the potions room, eyes instantly meeting the gray and blue eyes you were speaking of. He quickly averted his gaze and stared down at his potions book instead, making you frown. “He hasn’t been throwing enough insults at us this year.”

“Is that not a good thing?” She creases her brows and takes her seat beside you, pulling her potions book out of her bag. Hermione looks at you with slight unease, not really understanding why you were asking in the first place. “Besides, why should you care? Don’t you hate him?”

You don’t respond, only spinning your ring and bringing your attention back to the Slytherin Prince himself, your teeth kissing your lips in your own turmoil. He looked so tired and… Helpless. You wanted to understand what he was going through despite everything he had put you through. He was still a student at Hogwarts. It may seem out of the ordinary from your usual loathing, but if something serious was going on, you hoped to Godric that he would be okay.

For the rest of class, Slughorn assigned the most ridiculous sounding potion to create. It was supposedly the most powerful love potion in existence and when Slughorn said it could help anyone identify their true love, you doubted it. It was only when Harry properly made the potion did you test the theory out. It seemed like Lavender was having a day with the potion and kept batting her eyes at Ron, making you and Hermoine roll your eyes in annoyance.

When Slughorn called the rest of the class in pairs to come over to smell the potion and describe what they smelled, you still believed people made up with what they smelled. You thought they were just believing they smelled the person they liked. From Hermione smelling freshly-mown grass and new parchment to Harry smelling some kind of sweets, it seemed quite fake.

And you could have gotten away with not having to smell the potion when you unashamedly yawned the second Slughorn turned to look over.

“Miss Potter, since you and Mr. Malfoy seem to have found this task boring, why don’t you both come up and tell me what you smell.” Slughorn beckoned you up toward Harry’s cauldron.

Pursing your lips, you do your best not to roll your eyes as you made your way over to the cauldron, only to be overwhelmed with Draco’s cologne when smelling the potion. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, noticing he was just as confused as you.

“Maybe tone down the cologne, Malfoy.” You mutter to him and try to find a scent that wasn’t just his stupid cologne.

He rolled his eyes at you and leaned his head down, practically hissing into your ear. “Me? Your fucking shampoo is blocking all my senses right now.”

“Like you can smell that right now.” You turn your own head and glare at him, the tension growing larger and larger.

As if you were in a staring contest of who could hate the other more, you forgot about the class and only the loathing you felt for the blonde in front of you. However, the class soon began to felt the tension, uncomfortable with how you two were behaving. Whispers began to fill the air, but you two continued to bicker.

“Maybe use less product, Potter.” Draco suggested and flicked a piece of your hair off your shoulder, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed at how close the two of you were at the moment.

You crossed your arms and squinted, hating how he had to bend just to be at eye level to you. “Says the one practically bathes in Dior Sauvage—”

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Potter, please, go back to your seats. We have gathered all the information we need.” Slughorn spoke with an amused smile.

For the rest of the week, it seemed like the entire student body was pointing to you and whispering. Even if you were just switching classes or sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, eyes averted to you before they eventually turned away when they caught your eyes.

You didn't understand what was going on. It felt like everyone you knew began to have a knew found hatred toward you and it bugged you. Even Harry gave you questioning looks from time to time. You don't remember doing anything cruel and vile.

Eventually, you did give up guessing why everyone was giving you dirty looks. You ignored all their staring and only acknowledged the people you knew didn't mean any harm toward you. It soon became a habit for you to leave the trio alone for a good hour or two, spending time to practice spells in the room of requirements; Mainly casting your Patronus and watching it have the time of its life.

Well, until one day the room began to change on its own.

“Hello? Room of requirements?" You stood abruptly and looked around at the changing room, your Patronus dissipating in thin air.

The room began to shift in size, becoming quite large in size with piles and piles of junk. As you tripped over the old trinkets decorating the room — trying to find the exit to the ever expanding room — you cut yourself on the sudden arrival of a rusted sword.

Holding your cut hand close to you body, you glared at the room like it was your least favorite thing in the entire world. "This is not what I asked—“

“Fuck.”

You heard the voice whisper before you jumped back in surprise when the person banged on something wooden. So someone who needed the room more came. That's why. As you tried to make your way out a give the person privacy, you tripped back into another pile of junk, making you wince.

“Shit.” You mutter and do your best to remove yourself from the pile, pursing your lips when you heard footsteps approach you.

Before you could even try to hide, the said person appeared right in front of you with their wand pointed at your face. You followed the wand up until you met their eyes, making you inwardly groan at your luck.

“What are you doing?” You spoke at the same time, both of you rolling your eyes at the same time.

Hastily, you stood up from your spot on the dirtied floor and dusted your clothes off, mentally cursing yourself for being ever so clumsy.

“I asked you first, Potter.” Draco tucked his wand away, glancing down at your bleeding hand. He frowned and moved around you.

You stepped away from him, still nursing your hand. Unsure of what he was going to do, you simply answered the question truthfully.

“I was using the room to practice my spells, but it changed because apparently your needs were far more important than mine.” You watched him dig through dusted cabinets and drawers, looking for something. “Now answer mine.”

“I don’t have to.” He muttered and pulled out some type of cleanser and a kit, making you recoil at the sight. You hated the doctors and it seemed like Draco was ready to operate on your hand.

“You know? I think I should go before—" You start before he raised a brow at you, looking down at your injured hand and then back up to your eyes. "What?"

“You could get in trouble, you know?” He gestured to your hand before guiding you to sit on a bed that seemed too clean to be one of the old trinkets lying around before. "You need to clean your hand before it gets infected. Everything in here is old and dusted."

"Then I will clean my hand on my own, thank you very much." You yank the cleanser from his hands and pop the cap open. You stared at your wound before looking at the bottle, already regretting your choice.

"What?" He looked over your face, noticing the hesitation in your facial expression. "Do you need me to do it?"

"Yes, please." You whisper quickly, shutting your eyes tightly when you felt him lightly dab your cut with the cleanser. You bit your lip when it stung, nodding when he told you it would be over in a second.

“I'm done." Draco murmured and threw the cloth in the trash, watching you slowly open your eyes and look at your now bandaged hand. He nodded at you before standing, finding his way back over to a wooden cabinet.

You looked around the place, noticing the fresh bedsheets and glass of water that surely hasn't been sitting there for Godric knows how long. Tucking your injured hand in your free one, you wandered the small sleeping area before stopping at all the books piled next to it.

"Malfoy, what are you doing in here?" You take a book from the top of the pile and read its title. The Fundamentals of Vanishing Cabinets. You raised your brows in curiosity, looking over at him to find him already staring. "Well?"

“Like I said, I don't have to answer you.” He murmured and stepped toward you, taking the book from your hands.

You stared at him and frowned. His image was even worse up close. You could see the bags underneath his eyes and the gel from his hair completely gone from how many times he ran his fingers through his hair. When he glanced down at you, you were once again millimeters from each other before you both pulled away in confusion and guilt, like your skin was on fire.

“Are you getting enough sleep?" You ask as he walks toward the cabinet again, but this time, you followed him over. "I don't see you eat enough during dinner either."

“You watch me, Potter?” He spoke in amusement, lips turning down to hide the smirk that wanted to present itself to you.

“What? No!" You splutter out and look away, face flamed in warmth. "Only in hatred.”

"Whatever you say." He murmured and began tinkering with the cabinet, placing a green apple on the top shelf. "Stalker." He whispered, earning an annoyed glare from you.

“Just answer the question. Why did the room change to this mess?” You look at the bed you assumed his stayed in and then change your gaze toward the cabinet he seemed so intent on working on. “And why are you spending all your time on this old cabinet?“

He opened his mouth to speak when he winced and clutched his left forearm, making you panic ever so slightly. Draco moved to sit on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to think of anything but the pain being emitted on his arm.

You frown and take his arm in your hands, pulling his sleeve up only to silently gasp in surprise. Draco pulled his arm away and tugged the sleeve down, glaring at you.

“You’re a death eater.” You look at him with wide eyes, stepping back in shock. You looked between his arm, his frantic eyes, and then the cabinet. Your head was reeling at all the information you learned. "You got the dark mark—"

“You can’t tell anyone.” Draco whispered, almost pleading you to not tell a soul. If you told Harry, then everything would go to shit. But when he saw your face clear of all shock and shift to remorse, he knew you wouldn't go against his wishes despite him being a real threat to you and your brother.

“Why? Why did…” You move closer and clutch his arm, pulling his sleeve up again and wanting to trace the design. When he stopped you, you looked up and knew it would hurt. You nodded and thumbed the skin below it, eyes looking over the ink. “You didn’t have a choice, did you?”

Draco nodded and shut his eyes when you continued to thumb the empty space, opening them when you stopped. He knew that the gears were turning in your head when you stared at him like he was you next project — which he knew you would never call him that despite the loathing you had for him.

After seconds of silence, you open your mouth and speak softly, thumb moving over the space once more. “Can't you tell Dumbledore at all? Maybe he could do something to protect you—“

“That’s not how it works.” Draco stopped your movements and tugged his sleeve down. He caught you hesitating to look over the mark again, tilting his head to the side when you took a seat beside him. "Why are you still here?"

"What do you mean?" You murmur and trace the bandage over your hand before looking up at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes. "I can leave if you want me to. But I want to know if you'll be okay if I leave first."

You kept eye contact with him for a little longer before looking away, eyes finding interest in a silver crown in the corner. You weren't sure why you cared so much about him. It was like a switch flipped on in your mind. In all your years at Hogwarts, his taunting was a constant in your life. So when that went away, you knew something was wrong and you wanted to make sure he was okay, even if your brother hated him. It was an instinct you suddenly gained.

"Why?" He stared at the mirror across from him, catching your eyes through the reflection once more. "Is it because you want more material to tease my about?"

"Godric, no." You huff and run your fingers through your hair. "I'm not a monster, Malfoy." You let a small smile slip through when he raised his brow at you. "I'm not a monster!"

"Not saying you are, Potter." He finally smiled at you. But even through the smile, you could see how exhausted he was. With whatever he was doing for the Dark Lord, you just hoped he would be fine in the end. "If I tell you I'll be okay, will you leave me be so I can finish my task?"

You turn your head to look at him properly, looking in between his eyes. You sighed and broke eye contact, "Yes." You look back up and find him millimeters away again, making you squint. "If you don't come to potions tomorrow with any kind of retort, I will be in here waiting for you, understand?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded, "Whatever gets you out of here, Potter."

Nodding, you stand and dust off your clothes once more. Talking with Draco civically was quite a feat, but you knew it was for the better or worse. But just before you could leave the room, you heard his voice ring out to you once more, you first name falling from his lips instead of your last.

"Don't use that strong of a shampoo anymore, yeah?"

You send him a half smile, "Only if you don't apply your entire bottle of cologne."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[covenofagatha]

I went to a new doctor today for the first time... And the (very hot) doctor said "good girl" under her breath when I followed her instructions during part of the physical exam and I nearly died. Is that anything? Doctor!Agatha? Also not sure if I can ever show my face at that doctor's office again.

Good luck the next time you go lol

Hands-on care

You and your boyfriend want to have a baby so you go see Doctor Agatha Harkness at her fertility clinic

Word count: 2500

Warnings: sex, fingering, oral, Agatha is very unethical, cheating, degradation, praise

The decision to have a baby with your boyfriend Matthew was a decision that you made on sort of an impulse. 

You’ve been dating for three years now, after he begged you to go out with him for all of college, and you’ve always wanted a baby. 

You two had talked about it, going back and forth about what that would look like, if you would get married, if you two look to buy a house instead of your one bedroom apartment. 

Matt kept saying the fact that you both couldn’t decide on the little things like that, then it meant you weren’t ready for a baby. So you had put off further discussion about it until one night, you got really drunk. 

Four shots of vodka and no food had you on a different planet, and you had apparently told Matt that you wanted him to put a baby in you that night. 

He didn’t, because you were hammered, but it opened up the door to a heavy conversation the next day and you both decided that you wanted to start trying. 

The Harkness Fertility Clinic seemed like the obvious choice of where to check your fertility and get options, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Everyone in town knew Doctor Agatha Harkness and her extraordinary work when it came to all things pregnancy.

So you booked an appointment and here you are now, staring into space while fiddling with the edge of the hospital gown that the nurse practitioner gave you to put on while you wait for the doctor. 

“You alright?” Matt asks quietly, his brows crinkled. You told him that you would be fine if he didn’t want to come, in case there was bad news, but he insisted. 

You nod and drop the gown. “Just a bit nervous,” you say and he reaches over to squeeze your hand. 

And then there’s a knock on the door and Doctor Harkness walks in, wearing blood-red scrubs and her dark hair tied into a neat bun. 

You didn’t realize how attractive she would be. 

“Hello, how are we today?” She picks up the clipboard from the table next to you and scans it. “It looks like you’re here for a standard fertility check. That will be quick and easy and we’ll have those results in no time.”

It’s hard to breathe with her blue eyes burning through you, but you manage to smile. “Okay, great, we just want to make sure that we won’t have any problems or anything.” Can she tell how hot your cheeks feel? 

She smiles back at you. Hasn’t even looked at Matt yet. “Well, we’re here to make that happen for you.” She launches into an explanation of how the test will happen, something with a speculum, but you are too busy staring at her to fully listen. “Do you have any questions?”

It takes you a moment to realize she’s done talking. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. Thank you,” you stammer and she smirks knowingly.

“Thank you,” Matt says again, causing Agatha to look at him for the first time. Her lips curl and she turns to him with a rather unpleasant look.

“Husband? Why don’t you wait outside while we do this.” It’s not a question, and he blinks at her. He glances at you, like he’s expecting you to tell him to stay, but all you do is shrug. Better to let Agatha do her thing however she wants.

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "I'll be right out there," he vows and you give him a tight smile.

She moves close to you, perches on the side of the recliner you’re sitting on and reaches her hand toward you. You instinctively flinch but relax when all she does is tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. It’s incredibly gentle.

Agatha then trails her hand down the side of your face and grabs your chin, perhaps a little roughly. You let out a gasp that she seems to enjoy too much, and she strokes a finger over your lips. It’s all you can do to not take her thumb into your mouth and suck, and judging by the delighted look on her face, she sees how hard you’re restraining.

It’s so inappropriate. It’s so hot.

“I’ll put a baby in you,” she whispers. Your heart skips a beat. You know she just means fertility-wise you’ll have a baby, but the way she says it makes you wish she was capable of that. “Lie back.” She taps your shoulder and moves to situate herself on a chair by your legs. You spread them hesitantly and put them in the stirrups, knowing your underwear is already wet, just from being this close to her.

The chair rolls to the end of the cot so she's in between your legs now. You turn red again when her eyes drop to you, and she gets a look at what you’re sure is now soaked-through white cotton. Your stomach flutters when she bites her lip, and she meets your gaze with heavy lids.

“Oh, darling,” she says quietly, and you feel her hands moving up your inner thighs and a finger traces up your slit. You can hear the mocking tone in her voice but your hips buck ever so slightly. “I don’t think I’ll need to lube up the speculum with how wet you are.” It’s so wrong and she says it so casually and you didn’t think it was possible to get wetter. But you do, and you know she can tell.

“I’m sorry–” you try to stutter, the humiliation only making the fire inside your stomach grow.

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice. “I’m flattered, really,” she purrs. You wonder if this happens to her a lot; you definitely wouldn’t be surprised. But surely she wouldn’t still be in business if she flirted with all the patients.

She takes hold of your underwear and drags the pair down your legs, helping your feet out of the stirrups one at a time so she can slip them off. She chuckles and you blush harder than you ever have.

Fuck.

How are you going to survive this?

“Alright, are you ready?” You feel her press the cold speculum against your entrance and you hiss.

“Yes,” you squeak. Back to business. She is a doctor, she is Agatha Harkness. She is a tease, but that is all. You need to calm down.

She eases an inch of the speculum in and you grimace. The stretch burns. It would seem that you are not wet enough.

Agatha holds it still to give you time to adjust. “Relax. You need to relax,” she tells you.

“Easier said than done,” you joke with another wince. And then you feel her finger swipe your clit and you clench around the speculum with a spasm. Just a coincidence? 

“Is your husband not doing anything for you at all? Is his dick really that small? I think I might have to stretch you out first,” she remarks like she’s talking about the weather. You’re not exactly sure what she means but your stomach twists. The speculum is removed and placed on the table next to you. She pulls her gloves off.

“He’s not my husband,�� is the only thing you have the effort to correct when she slides her middle finger into you. You let out a shaky breath. Agatha bites her lip, eyes dark.

She slowly thrusts into you, her thumb rubbing your clit every once in a while. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good and she’s barely doing anything. She pushes another finger in and you moan loudly.

“Better quiet down so he doesn’t hear. Not like he’d know what these sounds are,” she muses, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. You’re so close, just from her moving her two fingers inside you slowly.

“Please.” It’s all you can say.

You whine pathetically when her fingers pull out and she sits back, hair mussed, a crazed look on her face. She sucks her finger into her mouth, she moans softly, and you almost cum right there at the sight. 

“You’re so deliciously perfect,” she tells you, and grins while you clench around nothing at the praise.

“Please,” you beg again. “I’m so close, I need you.”

“What do you need?” 

You've never been one to voice your thoughts, especially in bed, but Agatha has a way of pulling it out of you. “Please, I need you so badly. Please make me cum. I need you.” You realize maybe being vocal wouldn’t be such a bad thing for you to do every once in a while, if it’s going to lead to her leaning down and dragging her tongue up your slit, flicking it against your clit. You gasp and your hands tangle themselves in the loose hair from her bun immediately to keep her there.

You can feel her chuckle against you and the echoes only increase your pleasure. Two fingers enter you again, but this time, she curls them fast, and the palm of her hand hits your clit with every thrust. She mouths at your inner thigh before biting and sucking. Marking you. You throb at the thought of the red marks that will litter your legs.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan.

You won’t be able to be naked in front of Matt for a long time.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut, dripping all over this chair for me,” Agatha comments. “I bet you were wet the moment I walked in. Wanting me to taste you. Wanting me to fuck you like the whore you are.”

You should feel ashamed of how nothing she said was wrong, but you couldn't care less. Part of you is wondering if this is standard protocol for all the women who have trouble with the speculum, or if it’s just you. 

“Dr. Harkness,” you moan and gently tug on her hair. You shouldn’t really be concerned with professionality at this point, what with her head buried between your legs and her fingers inside you and everything, but the title and the hair pull seem to have quite the effect on her. She groans into you and then the real fucking begins.

Her fingers thrust ruthlessly inside you and her tongue thrashes against your clit and you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Dr. Harkness, fuck, please, need more, need you,” you babble, feeling yourself steadily approaching the edge. 

She pauses for a moment to fit a third finger inside you. The stretch is a little uncomfortable and she gives you a second to adjust, and then she’s back to it.

You come with a moan and it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had by far. From the look on her face when she sits back, finally done fucking you through your climax, she knows it.

Her lips glisten with your wetness, but she makes no move to clean them.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re cumming all over my exam chair,” she says, and it takes all of your energy to not laugh at the absurdity of the statement. What did you just do? “Do you think you’re ready for the speculum?”

You’ve completely forgotten why you’re here, but you nod, and she is gentle when she pushes the cold metal in you for a second time. You’re a little sensitive from your orgasm, but it slides in much easier this time. Your walls flutter around it and you almost moan.

"Good girl," she says in a deep voice.

Before you can tell yourself how wrong it is, you hope that next time she uses a strap-on. Next time? No, there can’t be a next time. You know she would make it feel really good though. She fucked you better with her fingers than Matt has in his entire life, so imagine what she could do with a toy cock.

But Agatha meets your eyes and winks and you can tell she’s thinking the same thing.

She tuts with a hint of a smirk, and you flush red again. You know this won’t be the last time the two of you do this, and there isn’t a single part of you that’s upset about it. 

The rest of the check runs quickly and smoothly, and she goes outside to tell Matt he can come back in. 

You’re worried he can smell the stench of sex in the air or that he will notice the slight sheen around Agatha’s mouth and her mussed-up hair, but if he does, there’s no indication.

Figures.

“Your uterus is extraordinary, perfectly shaped for a baby,” Agatha says, voice dripping with sweet venom, pointing to the pictures to show you what she means. “There should be no problems, but you might want to come in here regularly just in case.” Her hand falls to your upper thigh and squeezes. She watches you bite your lip with a smirk.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you agree, and Matt hums. “Thank you so much for your help, it was so great meeting you. 

“Oh, believe me, the pleasure was all mine,” Agatha says smugly, dragging her hand slowly against her mouth, breathing your scent in. You choke on nothing. 

Matt turns toward you, the happiness evident on his face. “We’re going to have a baby!” He exclaims and you wish you felt just a little bit guilty about what you just did. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll let you get dressed and then I’ll see you next time. Have a wonderful day.” Agatha gives you one last wink and leaves. You and Matt quickly pack your things and you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the gown that smells like sex on the chair. There’s going to need to be some serious sanitation of this room.

Matt is clearly ecstatic about the good news, but you’re honestly dreading the thought of having sex with him after that. Plus you have those marks on your thighs. You inwardly curse Agatha and you make a mental note to try and get some concealer or something to hide it. You’re not sure how well you’ll be able to put off sleeping with your boyfriend, especially not now. 

As you’re walking towards the sliding front doors of the building, you hear your name called. It’s Dr. Harkness, standing on the stairwell that overlooks the lobby. Her bun is fixed now, not a hair out of place, and the wetness around her chin has been wiped off. But there’s no denying the dark look in her eyes.

She gives you a wave. “We’ll have that baby in you in no time.” 

You have no doubt. 

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (8)

posted this originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

I tried to move on after the game. I stayed with Keira for a few days, letting her fuss over me because I knew it would make her feel better. I asked Jona to keep me as a bench player, just for a few extra games and he agreed. The team was treating me differently, they were trying to not make it obvious but it was. Anytime I paired up with someone they would make a silly mistake that they wouldn’t normally do, Cata and Sandra would let shots in that they could’ve easily stopped. There was only one person who wouldn’t go easy on me, Alexia.

I was fed up with it, after walking into the locker with Ale, laughing about something stupid Alba said, I noticed everyone stopping what they were doing and looking at us. Shock and confusion on their faces, over the period of months they had known me, I didn’t laugh much, not outwardly happy, so this was new for them.

“Can you all please stop acting like I’m made of glass? I see it. I see what you’re doing and while I appreciate the concern, I need you all to stop.���

“Milly-“ Keira started

“No Keira. I get it okay, I went MIA for three years and came back different, I get it, but I need you all to treat me like I’m normal, not some broken person who will break if you say the wrong thing.”

A murmur of sorrys went through the room, I missed the way Alexia looked at me, eyes full of admiration and love, but Mapi didn’t miss it. The weeks that followed were good, we won against Athleti Madrid, Villareal and UDG Tenerife, our next upcoming game was against Real Madrid, the El Classico. I was incredibly excited.

The Friday before El Classico, Jona pulled me into his office.

“Hi Amelia, how are you feeling?” He was calm, almost too calm.

“I’m good. Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” panic was arising within me. Was everything about to end before it truly started?

“Oh no! On the contrary. I want you to start tomorrow if you are feeling ok with that? I don’t want to push you into something that you aren’t ready to do.”

“Yes, god yes! Thank you Jona!”

Exiting his office I felt giddy, like a kid on Christmas eve. This was my Christmas eve, I couldn’t contain my excitement when I went into the locker room, it was mainly empty expect for Pina and Kei.

“I’M STARTING TOMORROW BITCHES!” I screamed, scaring the two girls.

“Oh my god! Milly! I am so so proud of you! Come here!” Kei pulled me into a bone crushing hug, Claudia jumping on the both of us shortly after. Unbeknownst to you, Alexia was in the bathroom, hearing everything that was spoken about. She was so incredibly proud, she wanted to come out and congratulate you herself but felt it was better to hide and let you have your moment.

Real Madrid and Barcelona were huge rivals. This game was the game of all games. Id watched it numerous times, either on the TV when I was in my hermit era or live with Eli and Alba, even dragging Emily over a couple of times. To be able to play in it, it was indescribable.  

No one in the locker room seemed nervous, well no one expect me. Jona came in and gave his last speech, followed by Alexia and Irene. Slowly the subs lefts, then the starting 11. Even in the tunnel it was loud, almost overwhelming loud, I couldn’t hear my heartbeat, or what the girls were saying around me. It was all very overwhelming. Alexia noticed, pulling me to the side, her hands cradling my face.

“you’re okay mil. You deserve to be here. You’re the best, show them that.” After kissing my forehead, she was back at the start of the line. She was right, as always, I was okay, and I deserved to be there.

The start of the game was a little shaky, having to adjust quickly to cancelling the noise of the crowd out to be able to hear my teammates and the refs whistle. The first goal came easily, a break in the defence meant I was able to run through after receiving a perfect ball from Alexia. Misa didn’t stand a chance, 1-0. Scoring in front of 90,000 people is something I’ll never get used to.

Goal after goal was scored, by half time it was 5-0. Alexia with two goals and 2 assists, me with 2 goals and 1 assist, Caro scoring the other goal. I felt bad for Misa, she was a great person and a great goalie, her team was just shit. She wouldn’t leave though, she’s too loyal, much like alexia in that respect.

By the end of the game it was 9-0, alexia and myself with a hattrick, Caro with 2 and Vicky with 1. Misa was crying by the end of it, by passing everyone else I went to her. Engulfing her in a hug, I let her cry. Her frustrations were justified, and she deserved to let them out. After a while, she pulled back.

“I am so glad youre back, but im even more glad it took so long to have to play you.” I laughed, I always tried to visit Misa when I could, even making Alexia come with me, not that she hated it.

“I missed you too Misa.”

“you coming out tonight? Please say yes. You owe me a drink or three!”

“Fine you convinced me! I’ll see you later M” I trottered off to say good game to the rest of Real. As I was finishing up with Hayley Raso, a body jumped on my back, and then another one. Claud and Patri were yelling out ‘MVP’ and sent us tumbling to the ground. All three of us laughing as each other.

During our usual walk around to thank the fans, Alexia dragged me towards her mum and sister. 

“Mija! There you are. My god I’m so proud of you!” Eli pulled me into a bone crushing hug, leaving kisses all over my cheeks. Alba quickly joined in. Alexia had walked off to say hi to Olga and some other friends. 

“”You’re coming out right? Please say you are.” Alba asked. 

“Alba-“

“I am yes.” She squealed, pulling me into another hug. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to mil. It’s not a problem.” Alexia didn’t want to push. It had been a big afternoon already and she would’ve completely understood if I didn’t want too. 

“No it’s fine. I promise. I want to go.” Quickly reassuring the captain that it truly wasn’t a problem. There was a look in her eye, something I couldn’t place. It wasn’t happiness, or sadness, maybe guilt? 

Quickly hugging Olga and Vir, before being pulled back away by Alba, she wanted to talk about outfits for tonight, she had decided to come to my house and get ready, to make sure I didn’t ’run away’, that comment got her a slap on the head from Ale and Eli. 

After slowly making it back to the locker room, the cheers could be heard from the tunnel. Everyone was singing and dancing, some wet from their shower or still in their kits. Deciding to ignore the partying for the mean time and opting for a shower in peace was the smartest decision I’d made. After I was finished I quietly and carefully slipped out of the locker room, wanting to go home and relax for an hour before Alba turned up. 

unintentionally, I fell asleep on the couch as soon as I got home, waking up to multiple loud knocks on the door. Alba was standing there, looking panicked. 

“Jesus Christ I thought you were fucking dead.” She lets out an annoyed sigh 

“Sorry I fell asleep.” 

“You’re not bailing. I don’t care if I have to drag you out.” 

“Relax. I’m still coming.” 

after 2 hours, many shots, and 3 extra bodies, we were all ready to go. The Uber to the club was fairly quick, Lucy and Misa were arguing over something stupid, Keira and Ona laughing at them and Alba holding my hand. The club was loud and full when we got there. Everyone holding hands to make it to the booth where the rest of the team were sitting. 

“Wow you finally showed up!” Mapi yelled, getting everyone’s attention. Alba came back shortly after with Misa, both carrying trays of shots. 

after lots of drinks, most of us were drunk. Half the group staying in the booth and half of us on the dance floor. Dancing in the middle of Alba and Misa, grinding on both in a purely platonic way, I felt eyes burning into my skull. Manoeuvring to see who it was, was quite the challenge, but it did. Confusion struck me. Anger, frustration, jealousy, rippled her face. With a huff, she got up and walked away. 

Why was Alexia so mad at me? What did I do? 

[superbatsbison]

thinking of poly superbat x male reader

you and bruce are an established couple

ofc he eventually reveals the fact that he's batman to you

it gets to a point. especially since you're living together

afterward, you become more involved in both bruce and batman's life

because of this, occasionally, you run into some of the other members of the justice league

mainly clark

sorry, i mean superman

he's always hanging around the manor

going over cases with bruce

sometimes coming back with him after particularly grueling missions

and who are you to turn away a handsome face?

who said that 👀

at first clark is surprised that bruce has such a kind boyfriend

or any boyfriend at all really

he didn't peg bruce as being emotionally available. or into men....

ANYWAY

he obviously doesn't need help patching up like bruce does

but often times his mind wanders...

thinking about what he could do differently

What would happen if things went wrong.

soon, he finds himself zoning out in the batcave

and- oh? you're sitting by him

your soft gaze and strong hand rubbing his back helps to calm his racing thoughts

he finds it easy opening up to you

you sit and listen to his worries. giving your input when you think he's running circles in his mind

meanwhile, bruce is across the cave watching you two

he adores you for your big heart and caring nature

watching you comfort his closest friend makes him feel warm inside

he also can't help the passing thought that you two look good side by side

wait what....

maybe he should call it a night

but the pattern continues

you and bruce continue to grow closer to clark

often making him a topic of your conversation

and poor clark

clark feels terrible for the feelings he's developing for you both

i mean you're a couple for god's sake!

a very kind....generous....attractive couple....

is he a bad friend?

meanwhile, in gotham, you're asking yourself if you're a bad boyfriend

you feel like the worst partner ever

you love bruce so much

and yet you've been thinking about clark almost just as often

oh, what would bruce think if he knew.

pan to bruce, who's already clocked onto what's going on LMFAO

i mean, he's not the world's greatest detective for nothing

clearly, he can see clark and his boyfriend are developing something

and he should be angry. right?

hurt at the least?

but all he can manage to feel is endeared

he thinks about clark joining your relationship

treating clark the way he treats you

clark... treating you the way, bruce... treats you

oh my god he's bricked

flash forward to you two laying in bed together

😏

in the silence of the peaceful moment, him blurting out, "honey I think we have feelings for clark"

you shooting upright off his chest

after the initial panic fades you both finally talk it out

speaking of talking it out, poor clark is left to relay his miseries to lois

when he gets done describing all the events of the past couple of months, she starts to laugh

clark: what? 🥺

lois: they're totally trying to say they like your vibe

this gives him hope that he's not making things up

soon you three are back in the cave

except the energy tonight isn't solemn like usual

it's charged

you and clark are in your usual spots side by side

bruce in his chair with his mask and gloves off

eventually, your conversation with clark fades, and you're left looking into each other's eyes

you both lean in for a kiss

after a few moments, clark remembers himself and pulls away to look at bruce

his eyes are wide as he expects bruce to unleash his wrath

but instead, he simply stands and walks over to the pair of you

he sits behind you with a hand around your waist

his thumb rubbing up and down on your stomach

he reaches the other out and puts it on the back of clark's neck

using his leverage, he pulls clark into a kiss

they're both so much taller than you

they're practically kissing over your head

not that you're complaining

it's the perfect angle to plant your own little kisses underneath their jaws

there in your own little cuddle pile, you all confess to each other

clark is over the moon to have the affection of you both

he quickly finds a home in your dynamic

now, instead of having weekly post mission meet-ups in the cave, you all decompress in bruce's comically large bed

[movingmusically]

Can you do an Austin Butler x Reader imagine where it’s Elvis’s birthday and Austin decides to go to Memphis because he hasn’t been since Lisa’s funeral and the reader has never been. When they get there Austin introduces the reader to Riley, her husband Ben and daughter Tupelo, her twin sisters Harper and Finely , Priscilla, and Jerry. Riley decides to hold a dinner at Graceland (after hours) and they all catch up with Austin since it’s there first time seeing them since Lisa’s passing. The reader and the twins immediately become best friends (let’s say it’s years from now and all of them are 23). They all spend time hanging out and driving the golf carts on the Graceland lawn greeting the fans. The next day, it’s finally Elvis’s birthday and they all gather at Graceland for the celebration and because it’s Austin’s first time in a long time and the readers first time ever Riley lets them cut the cake.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for the request, my knowledge of Elvis/the Presley family is limited to the movie, Austin’s interviews and the new Netflix documentary so apologies for any mistakes! I also included the social media elements you wanted-I hope I did it right!

Word Count: 3,181

Masterlist

Back to Graceland

The hum of the car engine filled the quiet air as Memphis loomed closer on the horizon. Austin’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles faintly white, but his face remained calm—almost too calm. You knew him well enough to see through it. This trip meant more to him than he let on.

It had been Riley’s invitation that brought you both here. Because it would’ve been Elvis’ 90th birthday, she had decided to host celebrations at Graceland, inviting family and close friends to gather. She’d made it clear that she wanted Austin there. It was a special occasion, and Riley knew how much Graceland meant to him—how much her grandfather’s legacy still lived on in his heart.

But this was Austin’s first time returning since Lisa Marie’s funeral. That day had been heavy and devastating for everyone, and in the time since, Austin had kept a quiet distance from the place, choosing instead to remember it as it had been during happier times. Now, though, the invitation—and the milestone—felt too important to decline.

He’d said as much when you sat beside him on the couch earlier in the week, scrolling through Riley’s message. “It’s been too long,” he admitted quietly, more to himself than to you. “I can’t miss this.”

And now, here you were.

You glanced at Austin, the early afternoon sun casting soft light on his profile. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but you could still sense his focus, his thoughts somewhere far away. You reached over, placing your hand gently on his knee. “You doing okay?”

His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he looked at you briefly. “Yeah. Just… a lot to process, you know? Haven’t been back since…” He trailed off, his fingers flexing against the wheel before he let out a quiet breath. “But it’s the right thing to do. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled softly, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not doing this alone. And I can’t wait to see it all—the house, the stories, the history. I feel like I’ve heard so much about it, but it’ll be different seeing it in person.”

You were trying to sound upbeat, but truthfully, you were a little nervous yourself. You had never been to Graceland, and while the idea of seeing such a legendary place thrilled you, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. You were meeting Austin’s extended “family”—Riley, Priscilla, Jerry, and the twins—for the first time. These were people who had been part of Austin’s journey during his portrayal of Elvis, people who carried their own memories, grief, and love for Lisa Marie and Elvis.

What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing?

“You’ll love them,” Austin said suddenly, as if reading your mind. He reached over and took your hand, bringing it to his lips briefly before resting it on the centre console, intertwined with his. “Riley’s amazing, and the twins? You’ll love them too. They’re wild but in the best way.”

“I just hope they like me,” you admitted quietly.

Austin’s eyebrows shot up behind his sunglasses, and he scoffed. “Like you? Are you serious? They’re going to adore you. I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You smiled despite yourself, his confidence in you easing some of your nerves.

The closer you got to Memphis, the more the landscape seemed to shift, the familiar streets turning into something softer, richer with history. As the signs for Graceland came into view, a sense of awe washed over you. Even from the road, you could see the wrought-iron gates adorned with musical notes, the flowers and tributes left by fans spilling onto the pavement outside.

“Wow,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to the window slightly as you looked out. “There’s already so many people here.”

Austin smiled faintly. “It’s like this every year, especially on his birthday. People come from all over the world. It’s kind of incredible.”

You turned back to him, watching the way his expression softened as he took in the sight. For a moment, you could see the deep connection he had to all of this—to Elvis, to the family, and to the people who still loved the man behind the legend.

“Ready?” you asked gently.

He exhaled, a small, determined smile breaking through. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

As you pulled through the gates, fans caught sight of the car and began waving excitedly, their faces lighting up. Austin gave a small wave in return, his usual easygoing charm flickering back into place.

“Here we go,” he murmured, slipping off his sunglasses and shooting you a look that was part nervous, part hopeful.

You reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly. “We’ve got this.”

And with that, the car rolled to a stop in front of Graceland, the iconic house standing tall and proud, waiting to welcome you both home.

The house was quiet when you first stepped inside—quieter than you expected for a place so legendary. The air felt heavy but not sad, more like it carried the weight of decades of love and memories.

Riley greeted you both almost immediately, her warm, welcoming smile making you feel at ease. She wrapped Austin in a tight hug, her voice soft as she murmured, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Riles,” Austin replied, his voice equally low, as though they both knew how significant this moment was.

When Riley turned to you, her smile widened. “And this must be the one Austin’s been telling us about.”

You laughed lightly, a bit flustered, as you shook her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that reminded you of Lisa Marie. She didn’t linger on pleasantries, though, and soon you were swept further into the house, where everyone was gathered.

Priscilla was next to greet you, looking as poised and elegant as ever. “Welcome,” she said kindly, shaking your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you replied sincerely, feeling Austin’s reassuring presence just a step behind you.

Jerry Schilling, a longtime friend of Elvis and the family, followed suit, his grin warm and familiar as he clapped Austin on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Austin. And welcome Y/N,” he added to you with a nod.

Before you could even respond, a pair of voices interrupted. “Are you her?”

You turned to see two faces staring at you with open curiosity—Harper and Finley. Both of them were stunning, with the same mischievous glint in their eyes that told you they were troublemakers in the best way.

“Uh… I think so?” you replied playfully, already warming to them.

Harper rolled her eyes and turned to Austin. “Why didn’t you bring her sooner? She looks cool.”

“Because I knew you’d scare her off immediately,” Austin shot back, smirking as he looped an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re not that bad,” Finley insisted, grinning. “We’ve decided we like you already, so you’re stuck with us now.”

You laughed, any lingering nerves quickly melting away. “I think I can handle that.”

Austin shot you a knowing look. “Told you.”

The introductions were rounded out by Riley’s husband, Ben, who gave you a friendly hug, and their daughter, Tupelo—a sweet, wide-eyed little girl who clung to her father’s leg but waved shyly at you. “She’s a little star,” Austin said with affection as he crouched down to say hello to her, making her giggle.

Riley had outdone herself. The dining room at Graceland had been beautifully set for a private family dinner. The house felt different at night, quieter and more intimate. It didn’t feel like a museum anymore—it felt like a home.

You sat beside Austin at the long dining table, the soft glow of candles dancing across everyone’s faces. The food was southern comfort at its finest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and dishes that felt like they belonged on a family table rather than in a historic house.

Priscilla sat at one end of the table, a gracious matriarch keeping everyone engaged with her stories of Elvis, while Jerry chimed in with his own memories. They were stories that made you laugh, stories that tugged at your heart, and you could see how deeply they resonated with Austin.

“Your first time here, huh?” Harper asked, nudging you lightly from across the table as Finley buttered her fifth biscuit.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “It’s incredible—everything I imagined and more.”

“You’ve gotta see it all tomorrow,” Finley added enthusiastically. “The lawn, the cars, the golf carts. You’re riding with us.”

Austin chuckled beside you. “Just don’t let them drive too fast. They’re a menace in those carts.”

Harper feigned offence. “We’re efficient. Big difference.”

You grinned, already feeling like you were part of the group. The twins’ energy was infectious, and Riley’s warm glances across the table told you she was glad you were here.

As dinner stretched on, you caught glimpses of Austin relaxing, laughing freely with Riley and Jerry, even teasing the twins. He looked at home here, as if the love in this place outweighed the grief that sometimes lingered.

Riley eventually leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “It’s so good to have you back, Austin. It’s been too long.”

Austin glanced around the table, his hand finding yours beneath the tablecloth. “It feels good to be back. Thanks for this, Riles.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me,” she replied softly, her eyes kind. “You’re family. And this is home. Always.”

As the plates were cleared and conversation began to quiet, Jerry’s voice broke through the lull. “You know, it wouldn’t be a visit to Graceland without a little music.”

Austin looked up from his seat, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on,” Harper chimed in, grinning as she leaned back in her chair. “You’re not getting out of this, Butler.”

Finley nodded, already on her feet. “I’ll grab the guitar.”

It didn’t take long for her to return, cradling one of Elvis’ most famous guitars like it was a treasure—because it was. She handed it to Austin carefully, and the room fell into an expectant hush as he adjusted it in his lap, running his fingers over the strings. The sight of him there, in Graceland, holding Elvis Presley’s guitar, sent a shiver down your spine.

“You sure about this?” Austin murmured, looking at Priscilla for confirmation.

She gave him a soft nod, her smile filled with approval. “Play something for us, Austin.”

The room was still as Austin settled himself, his focus sharpening. He strummed the guitar gently, the rich sound reverberating through the room like it belonged here—timeless and familiar. Each note seemed to carry a weight, a quiet reverence that filled the space. His movements were deliberate, his fingers gliding over the strings with care, like he was playing for more than just the people in the room—like he was honouring something bigger.

You watched him, completely captivated. The way his head bowed slightly, his fingers moving with precision and care, the quiet way he poured his heart into each note—it was everything.

When the song ended, the room was silent for a moment before applause broke out, led by Jerry. Riley smiled softly, her eyes glassy as she clapped. Priscilla looked both proud and wistful, while the twins practically bounced in their seats.

You couldn’t stop staring, the swell of love and admiration you felt practically overwhelming. Austin caught your gaze, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as he set the guitar down gently.

“Are you swooning over there?” Harper teased, nudging you with her elbow.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Austin chuckled, reaching for your hand as he stood. “Come on, baby. You’re making me blush.”

“Good,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “You deserve it.”

Instagram Post – @rileykeough:

📍Graceland

Family dinner where it all feels right again. 💙

@austinbutler: Thanks for bringing us all together, Riles.

@harperpresley: That song, though. Butler’s got skills. 🎸

@yourusername: Pretty sure I fell in love all over again. 💭

@finleypresley: We already adopted her, @yourusername. Hope you don’t mind.

@yourusername: I think I’m in the best hands. 🩵

Sunlight poured through the windows of Graceland, filtering through the curtains in soft golden streaks. You stirred awake to the sound of soft footsteps, blinking as you realised Austin was already up. He stood by the window, looking out onto the sprawling lawn, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

Austin turned, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he crossed the room and sat beside you on the bed. “Not really. Just… taking it all in.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, still rough with morning stubble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he admitted softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a big day. I thought I’d show you around before everything kicks off.”

After breakfast—fresh biscuits and coffee prepared lovingly by the kitchen staff—Austin took your hand and guided you through Graceland. The house felt alive this morning, buzzing with energy as preparations for Elvis’ birthday celebration took place outside.

Austin led you room by room, his voice low as he told you stories about the making of the Elvis movie.

“This was where I spent hours just… trying to absorb it all,” he said as you stepped into the famous Jungle Room. The green shag carpet under your feet and the exotic decor made the space feel frozen in time.

You smiled, watching as Austin’s gaze softened. “Is it weird being back here?”

“A little,” he admitted, turning toward you. “But it’s good, too. This place meant so much to him, and I feel like it still does, even now.”

You both lingered there for a while before he led you outside, stopping by Elvis’ pink Cadillac. Austin ran a hand along the shiny paint, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“We shot a scene with a replica of this car,” he said. “But seeing the real thing? Nothing compares.”

“You know, I can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like playing him,” you said softly, taking in the sight of the car and the house that loomed behind it.

Austin turned to look at you, his blue eyes warm as they met yours. “I just wanted to do him justice. For his family, for his fans. Standing here again… I feel like I can finally let some of that weight go.”

You stepped closer, slipping your hand into his. “You did more than justice, Austin. You made people see him as a person again, not just a legend. I think he’d be proud of you.”

Austin squeezed your hand, brushing a kiss to your temple. “I hope so.”

As the morning drifted into early afternoon, the family gathered on the lawn, the sounds of laughter carrying across the property. Fans had begun arriving outside the gates, leaving flowers, cards, and memorabilia to honour Elvis.

Harper and Finley wasted no time dragging you toward the golf carts. “C’mon, Y/N,” Harper called over her shoulder. “We’ve got fans to greet!”

“Don’t let them run you over!” Austin called with a grin, shaking his head as the twins bundled you into the back of a cart.

You laughed as Harper took the wheel, Finley sitting beside her, both of them grinning like mischievous devils. The cart lurched forward, zipping across the Graceland lawn, and you held on to the edge for dear life.

“Do you two have a licence for this thing?” you joked, laughing as the twins waved dramatically to the fans lined outside the gates.

“Golf carts don’t need licences!” Finley declared triumphantly, throwing up a peace sign to a group of cheering fans.

The energy was contagious. Some fans recognised you and waved excitedly, but most were focused on the twins, who were practically celebrities themselves. You waved alongside them, grinning as Harper slowed the cart to a stop so a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers could hand them to Finley.

“Thank you!” Finley called with a bright smile before turning to you. “See? They love us.”

You shot her an amused look. “You two are definitely trouble.”

“Good trouble,” Harper corrected, starting the cart again with a jerk that made you squeal.

From the lawn, you caught a glimpse of Austin standing beside Riley and Jerry, watching you with a fond expression. He shook his head with a smile, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding in front of him.

Later that afternoon, as the family gathered under the tented area set up on the lawn, Riley took the microphone. The crowd hushed, fans standing outside the gates peeking in through the openings.

“Thank you all for being here today,” Riley began, her voice warm but steady. “It means so much to us that we can celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday together. It’s a reminder of how much he was loved—and still is.”

The crowd applauded, and Riley turned to Austin with a smile. “It’s been a while since Austin’s been back, and it’s Y/N’s first time here. So, in honour of that, I think it’s only right they get to cut the birthday cake.”

You blinked, glancing at Austin as the crowd clapped. “Us?” you whispered.

Austin grinned, brushing a hand down your back as he stood. “Looks like we’re up, baby.”

Together, you walked to the table where the massive birthday cake—a beautiful, multi-tiered masterpiece—sat waiting. Austin picked up the knife, placing his hand over yours as the crowd watched eagerly.

“Ready?” he murmured, smiling down at you.

You nodded, your heart full as you both cut the first slice together. The crowd erupted into cheers, fans outside clapping and waving excitedly as cameras flashed.

Austin leaned in close, his voice soft. “Thanks for being here with me.”

You looked up at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the slice of cake was lifted, Harper’s voice broke through the moment: “Save some for us!”

You and Austin both laughed, the weight of the day replaced by love, laughter, and the unshakable feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Instagram Post – @austinbutler:

📍Graceland

“Honouring the King on what would’ve been his 90th birthday. Thank you, Riley, for bringing us all together again. 🖤”

@yourusername: Couldn’t have asked for a more special day. 💙

@harperpresley: That cake better have my name on the next slice.

Instagram Story – @yourusername:

“Graceland chauffeurs of the year, obviously.”

Reply from @austinbutler: And menaces to society.

[heich0e]

the suna where he asks if you'd have a baby with him

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: wouldn't it be nice?

you've never been particularly good at giving people presents.

not for lack of trying, or lack of care—you want to be good at gift giving, but somehow you've just never quite mastered the skill. you're too indecisive to pick just one thing, so you always end up with a strange mismatched array of little gifts when the time comes, none of which have any particular connection to the other.

and that's to say nothing of your absolutely horrendous gift wrapping abilities.

before you started dating rintarou, christmas was always a real point of stress in your life. from picking out the gift, to tracking the item down, to trying (and ultimately failing) to wrap it in a way that didn't give the impression that a child had done it one-handedly. the stress that built up around the holiday often overshadowed any of the actual enjoyment you were meant to derive from it. and though none of your exes had ever explicitly called you out on being a god-awful gift giver, you knew that it was true.

thankfully, in that way that only rintarou seems to be able to do, that problem just... disappeared when the two of you started dating.

maybe disappeared is the wrong word, but that anxiety that you always used to feel cresting as the holidays drew near just never seemed to swell to the same point of misery as it used to. you never felt the same pressure to pick the perfect thing. to wrap it beautifully. to get it right.

because rintarou has this way of... reassuring you. of sensing when you're struggling and making things... easier. all without ever having to ask.

"i'm not big on gifts," he'd said to you, a full three weeks before your first christmas together. "wanna just go somewhere for the holiday, instead of buying presents? i've got some time off and have been thinking about going to kyoto."

and that settled it.

each christmas since then has passed similarly. either rintarou makes a plan, or very explicitly tells you what he'd like to get as a gift, and when the time comes, any of that stress that used to build up around the day just never even has the chance to take root.

but this year, there's a different sort of nervousness you feel about the holiday.

"my mom sent us a card," rintarou says, coming around the corner of your living room with a little red envelope in his hands. "she invited us to visit for the new year, too."

you shift in your seat under the kotatsu, looking up as he stands over you. "do you want to go?"

he sighs, slumping down onto the sofa behind you. "not really."

"we don't have to, then, if you really don't want to," you assure him, leaning back against the sofa so you're a little nearer to him. he inches forward on the couch cushions to close the gap even further. "but it might be nice to see your family."

rintarou isn't particularly close to his parents, who divorced when he was young. of his family members, the nearest to him is his little sister—and their relationship had largely been built once they both reached adulthood.

"last time we went to see my family my grandma tried to take you to a shaman to get you pregnant," rintarou replies dryly. "you sure you wanna go through that again?"

"i don't think the shaman was the one who was supposed to knock me up," you point out, and rintarou huffs out a laugh. you turn away from him a little. rintarou's grandmother was tired of waiting for great grand children and had tried to use shamanism to speed the process along—it had ended in an argument over a family dinner. "you two really are related, huh?"

"what was that?"

you peek at him over your shoulder.

"i think we should go to see them."

rintarou's brow quirks slightly at your words, and you lean forward so your elbows are resting on the edge of the couch cushion.

his eyes are always so green when you're this close to him, lined with those dark wispy lashes. so pretty. delicate and effortless in a way that would upset you if he wasn't already yours.

"you really wanna go?" he asks you quietly, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips when he speaks. you nod a little, and your lips brush because of the proximity—not quite a kiss, but enough to make him lean forward in search of one.

you pull away before he gets what he's looking for.

"and you can tell grandma that we won't need the shaman this year."

because she's already gotten what she wanted.

he blinks at you, and then his eyes widen, and before you know it he's sitting bolt upright on the sofa with a look of utter disbelief on his pretty face.

just like always, rintarou made gift giving easy this year.

only this time, the present is something you'll both cherish equally, because it's something you've been wanting, too.

[dan-whoell]

had a dream that Phil worked in an arcade by the beach (and he looked like he did on Weakest Link) and some teenage girls asked if he had a youtube channel, and when he said yes one girl very excitedly told her friends it used to be called 'AmazingPhillie, aka s*ane d*wson'. Phil looked so offended to be mistaken for that shithead and everyone started shrieking bc they knew she'd gotten it unbelievably wrong

[hauntingblue]

Jayce telling vi she won't make it on her own.... okay mr. projector...

[echidnana]

honestly thinking more about mouthwashing and how badly every one failed anya. especially curly

[7-oh-ta1]

When I see ppl hating on king rhoam i start blacking out and seeing visions

[skhardwarevers1]

spent two hours studying and I’m STILL thinking about Cassie

[niuxita21]

[thehmn]

I wanted to make this post because we don’t see a lot of asexual characters in western media and despite him being from a hugely popular show (Seaside Hotel) you’re unlikely to know of his existence if you’re not from Denmark.

His name is Hjalmar Aurland and he’s one of the more sympathetic and realistic asexual characters I’ve seen. He lives in a time and place where asexuality as a concept doesn’t exist yet so he’s never labeled as such but rewatching the show made me realize that he acts exactly like the asexual people I personally know. Asexuality can mean a lot of things but his specific brand isn’t naive to sex nor is he repulsed by sex, sexual desire or thoughts simply doesn’t come naturally to him.

He can be convinced to have sex with his wife Helene but only if she appeals to their emotional bond. Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not being forced or emotionally blackmailed to sleep with her. It’s simply that he understands sex is a way to show emotional love too and he wants to express that love for Helene when it’s important to her, and seeing as sex isn’t unpleasant to him, just kinda boring, he’s willing to do that for her.

Unfortunately that isn’t enough for Helene and despite her love for Hjalmar she starts an affair with the dramatic and emotional actor Edward Weyse. He has a string of relationships, marriages and divorces behind him because despite what it may look like from the outside Edward doesn’t really want shallow sexual relationships. He just can’t help himself and keep falling in love with women left and right, fully and wholeheartedly, only to be dumped or dump them once the initial excitement has passed.

So Helene and Edward’s affair that was only meant to satisfy their carnal desires quickly becomes romantic. Helene feels torn between him and Hjalmar who she still loves and Edward understands the difficult situation they’re both in while also feeling jealous of Hjalmar. And Hjalmar? He doesn’t catch on for years. He’s not stupid but his brain just doesn’t jump to sex. He just assumes they’re good friends and why shouldn’t his wife be allowed to have friends, even male ones? Things get really complicated when Helene gets pregnant and she has to have sex with Hjalmar so he won’t wonder how it happened. Edward even has to join in on the seduction, reminding Hjalmar how much Helene loves him, even though it breaks Edward’s heart to do so.

But like I’ve said Hjalmar isn’t stupid. He saw the signs but chose to ignore them until one night when Helene accidentally says Edward’s name. It breaks the dam in Hjalmar’s denial and he has to face that deep down he always knew. Overcome by sadness and betrayal he wanders off into the night in nothing but his nightgown and gets a room at a different hotel where he can think in peace. Eventually he agrees to return to the first hotel with Helene and Edward and decides to take control of the situation.

He sits them both down and tells them that he understands that the three of them share a bond and that there are things he can’t really do for Helene so from now on he wants their relationship to be open and honest. He wants Helene and Edward to keep seeing each other and Edward is welcome in their house, but Hjalmar wants to be allowed to call Edward by his first name and makes it very clear that Helene and Edward’s children “belong to him” because he still thinks of himself as their dad and loves them as his own children. Both Helene and Edward agrees to it, though the emotional Edward is very flustered and confused by the acceptance and love he’s being shown by Hjalmar.

This is obviously a very tv drama situation but I was so stuck by how much Hjalmar acts like my asexual friends. Having a lover for your partner isn’t the most common solution but it’s an idea I’ve heard a lot of asexual people be open to under the right circumstances and of course that’s the most dramatic solution for a romantic tv drama.

Hjalmar is defined by so much more than his sexuality though. His main characteristic is his passion for social justice and equality, and other than some early show weirdness before they really cemented the characters, Hjamler is the only character who floats freely between the men and women. He’s just as likely to sit with the men as he is the women, often appearing in otherwise entirely female spaces. It’s never questioned or even brought up, not because he’s a “safe asexual” but because he cares and think their worries are as important as the men’s. He’s often called a pessimist by the other men when in reality he is determined to be hopeful and compassionate and spread the love he feels the world is lacking as WWII draws closer.

So yeah, I just wanted to share this sweet ace guy with you because you probably wouldn’t have known about him otherwise.

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[goldsbitch]

monaco kiss .wav

Lando's mildly exhibitionist dreams came true. Due to genius sound engineering, the world can now listen to him and his girlfriend having sex, without a clue it's them.

the track mentioned and referenced (no need to listen to it to get the story, go and be free): French Kiss - The Original Underground Mix, Lil'Louis, The World (credit where credit is due)... 05:30 is the timestamp

word count: 7k

warning: smut, minors DNI, p in v, oral sex, voice notes, colapinto level amount of the word "mate"

PS: i rarely do, but I fuckin love this one

If there was ever a place where Lando could spend hours and hours on end, it was the blue couch at Martin Garrix's personal studio. That piece of furniture was the peak of comfy. He'd asked many times where he got it - if only Martin could remember that.

The whole studio has a cozy vibe around it. A safe space for the F1 star to escape the ever-present eyes of the public, a timeless place where he could wind down and sit passively, while his friend digged notes for hits of the future. They'd often sit for hours in silence, just winding down.

To Lando's joy, the ultimate friend chemistry he had with Martin also worked for him and his, not-so-new-anymore, girlfriend Y/N. In fact, the moment these two met, it was clear that Y/N would quickly become a frequent member of their private recording sessions.

But this time, she had to be in a different city due to work, so it was just the boys, the olden days. Back when Lando would actually dabble in DJ'ing. Those days were long gone, but...It wasn't a rare thing that Lando would help and brainstorm ideas, chord progressions or effects applied to the tracks. What the public didn't know was that he was a loud creative force behind some elements in Martin's recent tracks. Lando had almost threatened him, urging to keep this behind closed door. He wasn't gonna Leclerc this one out.

"You look beat, mate," said Martin finally after nearly two hours of staring into track nods. Lando finally looked up from his phone.

"I'm waiting for you to be done, bro," he replied simply, reffering back to their debate regarding this latest track. A pause. "You know my opinion."

Max turned around to face him, only to find a signature overplayed smirk looking back at him. "You know what, I'm a fucking renowned producer, and you have the decency to come and tell me my track is shit?"

Lando did not flinch. This as a fairly normal way they'd speak together. "Well, someone apparently has to," he shot back, challenging Martin to flip out.

"Screw you," he replied and turned back to face his three monitors. Lando waited patiently, knowing that this was his signature first reaction to criticism. He always came around eventually. Max was his friend. And he would do everything to stop him from releasing crap. "Ok," he heard the DJ say, caving in to his doubts. "I am too deep in this track anyway. Tell me what you think."

"Mate, you said you wanted to do something more experimental. You forgot to add boring," Lando deadpanned.

Martin sighed loudly and leaned back to his chair.

"Don't get me wrong, I fucking love how you go from like - what, 120bpm?-"

"135-"

"Yeah, whatever," Lando said, not happy when Martin used his i-know-music-theory-and-you-don't tone. "As I was gonna say, the come down from the fast tempo to the painfully slow one, in the middle of the track, kind of works. It's certainly nothing like I'd heard play anywhere lately. But like, there is nothing in the production that makes it stand out? Like no real build up or interesting sound."

Lando knew it was brutal from him. But he wasn't there to pat his friend on the back. Just like Martin would never fake compliment his on a bad race. To Lando, this was peak friendship.

Martin hit quick save and closed the file abruptly, startling a minor panic in his friend. Did Lando overstep?

"Come on, mate. Don't copout now."

Martin was visibly startled. "Maybe I just need to put this one down for a moment. Lando did not know what to say to that. He might be right.

"Cig break?"

//

They were standing at the small balcony connected to main entrance to the studio, cigarette smokes mixing together. Yeah, Lando did enjoy an occasional smoke break with his friend. A guilty pleasure one might say.

"So, what was the starting point of the track?" he couldn't help but ask, still not happy to see his friend aborting something he'd spend hours on.

Martin gave him an annoyed look, but did not hesitate to reply. "Remember how the conversation I had about techno tracks being awfully predictable?."

Lando eyes shot up. "Wait, that weird chick you ran into in Germany?"

Rarely would Martin blush, but today was a lucky day apparently. A mocking snort came as a reaction from his friend. "Mate, I don't remember ever seeing you so flustered because of a girl." Few weeks ago, Martin had the fortune of meeting someone who he called "the love of his life" in a random club. And that girl had the audacity to leave him on read for hours. Him, Martin Garrix. Infuriating.

"Yeah, well, fuck you. She was real cool, alternative and reminded me of why I got into music in the first place. Let's revisit how insufferable you were when you met Y/N." Lando exhaled, forever happy anytime anyone ever brought up him and Y/N meeting. If it were up to him, that would be the only thing he's talk about. Getting to know her was like the best kind of drunk one can get. Tipsy enough to make everything fun and perfect, and not too much to get lost in it.

"Fuck off, I was never as insufferable as this," he defended, deep down knowing he might have been even worse. But, he and Y/N ended up dating. Poor Martin was desperate even for a reply.

"Whatever," Martin remarked and put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. This small gesture reminded Lando why he was friends with this guy, the precious safe-space he managed to create. If there was a moment to act as a friend, it was this one.

"Shut up and let's get back to the track. We just gotta let loose a bit, that's all," he said, determined to get Martin out of the rut of his own head.

//

They'd been sitting for another hour, the sun long gone from their sight, two vodka soda's mixed from personal studio bar in, dozens of old tracks analyzed.

Martin played the middle section once again. Lando's head was mindlessly nodding into the beat they'd added and it was starting to look kind of good for the track. But it was not exceptional. And if Lando was trying to help Martin get the attention of some pseudo-pretentious alternative chick, they had to step up their game.

"Can you recall any track which uses the same level of tempo slow down? We could like, I dunno, look into why it works when other people did it and maybe something will come up." Lando often drew inspiration from other artists, something Martin usually hated. But, desperate times.

The racer watched the DJ and suddenly, as it was as if the musical equivalent of the DRS just hit him, his eyes went wide and he stood up.

"Of course!" Martin exclaimed and started pacing around the room. Lando was obviously surprised and kept still, hoping for the best, really. He watched his friend, walking back and forth around the room, deep in his own thoughts and searching for something on his phone.

"Yes! That's it," he finally said happily and put a song up to their loud speakers. The excited look he gave to Lando was almost scary. "You're gonna absolutely love this one," he continued with absolute confidence.

Lando prayed for this to be good, otherwise he was going to have to start getting worried about his friend's sanity, based on the crazy eyes.

The song started with a steady, four-on-the-floor beat (or that was what Lando had assumed). It was a typical 1980's techno track, fast, repetitive with a strong bass line.

But they were almost four minutes in and nothing that would stand out in any way was coming out of this track. Lando could not help but give Martin a doubtful look, not really getting what he was excited about. But Martin was there, nodding his head to the beat, in his own world. He must have sensed Lando's so-far-unimpressed expression, so he shot him a quick smile and gestured for him to wait. Finally, something started to happen and just like in Martin's new track, the music started to slow up on the tempo, quite dramatically. It got Lando somewhat hooked. And then-

And then! He thought he was imagining things. That his mind created sounds in his own head out of boredom.

Instead of a new instrumental added a vocal component was added. The most sensual female moan started to dominate the track, as the tempo kept slowing down. Lando felt his stomach dropped and hair and the back of his neck stand. It was sensual, almost vulgar in fact. Like some sort of elegant porn track playing over the original beat. Unapologetic. And it was increasing. What started as a somewhat socially acceptable sigh, turned into a full on orgasm moan - and as the music almost stopped, the female voice was taking on the main stage, full on peak. Thank God the walls were sound proofed. Lando cock was twitching. He tried to ignore Martin, who was grinning like a school boy first time seeing a porn video. And once the voice finally reached a peak, the music started to pick up, leftover moans cutting through the beat. Only then was Lando able to look Martin in the eye and got out of the semi-trance this track got him into. Finally the tempo fully picked up and the nine minute song was over.

"Uhh..." Lando got his initial reaction out and stared into the screen. Martin was there, unable to contain his laughter.

"You look flushed, mate, you good?" he teased, obviously pleased with himself for getting Lando out of his comfort zone.

Lando was finally getting back to Earth and couldn't help but to release a girl-like giggle. "Yeah, mate...I think if you do something like that, you will break the internet almost definitely."

What Martin could not know, because they did not have that kind of a relationship, was that Lando's phone was full of noise recordings of him and Y/N having sex. She was quite a vocal person. And he was a bit of a naughty boy, asked for a permission to record a sex tape nearly dozens of times. His girlfriend was probably right in refusing to do so, given the fact that if a video got out, it would be a disaster for both of them. But, an audio? One without any names mentioned? That was something she felt comfortable. And it as this thing Lando was using to get himself off when he was traveling alone for the past few months. So yeah, Martin hit the nail on its "head" with this one.

Lando gulped, trying to get himself back in the right headspace and not thinking of all the times Y/N screamed and moaned for him while bent over a table or laying in a silky bed.

"I fuckin' love this idea, mate. I'm gonna check with the lawyer team and see if I can go and sample this or something," Martin said, his tone indicating he was happy and done for the day.

"Yeah. This would work," Lando replied, unable to tone his voice down to his usual octave.

//

It was a surreal plane trip home to Monaco. They'd wrapped at the studio and Lando was headed directly to airport. This was proving to be unfortunate, as there was no time for him to go anywhere and take care of the problem growing in his pants. He had never listened to their voice notes in public, but he could not find any sort of self-restraint not to do so that day. Shamelessly walking around the private lounge area with a ragging boner and sex noises blasting in his headphones. He prayed for no fans showing up. At one point he was debating just beating it off in the airport bathroom. A teenager he had not been for a long time now.

And like a cruel joke, a voice memo landed in his messages from Y/N precisely at the time he as about to board his flight.

A part of him hoped it was a voice note of her jerking off. Sadly, it was not.

"Hey, my love, I hope you're all good and will make the flight. I've had such a boring day and can't wait to see you," she said a tone so sweet Lando felt almost guilty for walking around with thoughts of her on all fours, begging for his cock. It brought him back to normal, which was probably for the better. "Anyway, I'll be at home, let me know when you're coming." He smiled, loving the fact they were there for each other even in the innocent sort of way. "Aaah, what a day," she ended the voice note with a moan. A fucking tired sort of sigh. Normally, it would be a very casual thing for Lando. But did it sound like something out of their sex tapes? Of course it fucking did. "Mmmm.." And with that, the voice memo ended and Lando's boner was right back on.

//

"Hi, my love."

"Hello, sweetheart."

It was something he was proud about. Teaching her to sleep naked. Sleeping in clothes is close to committing a crime when she has a body like that. Clothes were for the outdoors anyway. It was doing something to his ego to see she fully accepted that. To his luck, he found Y/N just like he wanted - bare, snuggled up in their bed under a criminal amount of duvets, but most importantly, given his current state, still somewhat awake. She was giving his the most inviting look he'd ever seen on a human.

"Are you hitting the shower?" Y/N asked, pushing the duvet closer to her neck, as if to cover herself for some reason. Lando found that more than amusing and shook his head.

They'd exchanged few pleasantries, mundane questions while we was undressing and finally crawled into the bed with her. As a natural move, she shifted, letting him to be the big spoon. He caressed her hair before stepping in. Changed his tone from casual to bedroom. Finally.

"You and me baby, just us. How it's suppose to be."

Flirting was a second language to Lando and he was not afraid to use it.

"I see you kept the bed warm for us," he said, warmed his hands by blowing his hot breath on both of them. When he was sure that his body adapted from the chilly outdoors air to their hot flat, he started tracing lines on her body and pressed his crotch to her ass, to test her reaction, and see if he got lucky and caught her in the right mood.

He wouldn't be able to see it, due to the fact he was spooning her from behind, but her eyes shot wide open as his ragging boner pressed on her and a cheeky smile crept in. She answered by moving back to him, and arching her back. Loud, horny sighs from Lando followed.

"I see you've been a good boy, am I right?" she whispered sensually.

And fucking yes, he was a good boy. She'd often reward him when he manage to obstain from jerking off when they were suppose to see each other. If he had been hard before, they would need to come up with a new name for what he was experiencing after hearing his hard work being acknowledged.

He gulped, trying to keep his some cool in his voice. "You can guess twice," he challenged and pushed his body towards her, squeezing his dick between their bodies. She giggled and turned on her back to face him. Tried to kiss him slowly, but he was having none of that. Once the door was opened, he took the lead and kissed her with all of his pent up hunger. His hands were holding her jaw in place, as if she was going to slip away - which was the exact opposite of her plans. Soon enough she kissed back with similar urgency, roaming her hands on his chest and pulling his ever-so-curly hair.

"I need you," she whispered when he reached away to take in some air.

He grinned, happy to have some sort of level of upper hand, given how down bad he actually was.

"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" he asked, expecting the same answer he gave her. His cheeky fingers started exploring her upper thighs.

She waited a moment. "No, I haven't," bit her lip. This took Lando as a surprise and he opened his mouth in disbelief.

"Well, would you look at that..." he said, secretly loving this side of her. Horny little angel, getting herself off. In his mind, it was like she'd been training for him. He gripped her thigh, making her gasp.

"I think you might still find some evidence on the sheets," she whispered, and it was exactly that sound that was a turning point of Lando. He flipped over to tower her and slammed his lips towards hers. He opened her legs with his hands and started exploring her core - and it was exactly as she said it. Still wet from her on fingers, as he'd imagined.

"Well then, we'll do this on my terms. You understand?" he said in a playful tone. "What are you?"

She knew what answer he was looking for. "Bad girl," she sighed as he fingered her in a way that could not be described as gentle. Soft moans started escaping her mouth and that was the main thing Lando was longing for.

"And what am I? For keeping myself full for you?" he asked, trying to keep her on the edge with his moves.

Her eyes were now shut and her arms locked around his back, same as her legs. "Good boy," she sighed.

"Exactly. So do me a favour," he said, kissing her again, "be loud for me tonight. Make my ears ring and wake up the neighbours. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't get what a good girl gets." Both of them knew there was not a single cell in Lando willing to keep his empty promise. She was going to finish multiple times and he'd work for it the whole night if he had to.

Back arched. Lando's fingers doing the God's work. "Yes," she almost choked on her breath and let out an honest and beautiful sound.

It was already getting too much for Lando, he stroked himself few times and then slid into her wet cunt, as if it was his home.

And boy, was it better than any home he'd ever know. He warm wet, almost dripping cunt welcomed him in the sweetest of ways. Lando waited few seconds for both of them to adjust before he gripped her legs and swung them over his shoulders. It was a dance they'd practiced countless times before. She knew to clench her legs and provide support for him to be able to fully start launching into her.

He gave her one more lustfilled look before he thrusted for the first time. The thing he was specifically looking forward was the way how the breath escaped her throat in almost surprised way - as if she was not expecting this to happen. Pure pleasure overruled any thoughts he was having pretty quickly. The way her walls clenched over him was a sensation very few things could compare to. It was so easy to start moving faster and harder. He lived for the sight of her, lying down beneath him, eyes closed and finally, after few more perfectly placed movements, first moans started to escape her lips. He wanted more, tonight he needed it all. Speeding up, gripping her legs tighter. And with that, he watched as her boobs were bouncing back and forth, a sight so glorious he had to put one of his hands on it. All that she was somehow trying to hide in, started to come out. Face stuck in a scream like position, hands gripping Lando's arms and the most glorious of it all - the silent moans growing into muted screams. And once he added even more speed, those turned into unhinged screaks. He didn't even notice him own mouth stuck open. Breaths were getting heavier and heavier, drops of sweet sweat were falling on her torso and slowly Lando moved his hand over to from her boobs to the crease of her neck and squeezed just a little bit, the way he knew she liked. He didn't mind that the sound she made got a little muffled - he could feel the sound coming from her throat before it left her body.

And then finally, Lando felt almost a hot liquid hit his dick and gradually bounce over to his lower stomach as he moved even quicker than before, knowing well enough that when this happened to her, the incoming orgasm was about to be glorious. He thrusted, fully focused on her expressions and loud screams.

When her release happened seconds later, he nearly came himself. By some miracle, he managed to hold it of for just few more minutes. He kept thrusting, while he felt her body collapse momentarily, complete hard shut down. More liquid came out of her and Lando wished he could fuck and lick her at the same time.

And just like that, she was back again, panting hard and finally, eyes open once again. Her fucked out face challenging him once again. She smirked and tried as much as he could to keep up his tempo. It always took her one orgasm to bounce back and become more active. Lando wished he could go on for hours, but his dick almost begged him to allow the release. He wasn't gonna deny himself pleasure tonight.

"Say my name," she said in a loud demanding tone, stern look on her face. He wanted to chuckle, always finding it amusing how she went from almost a comatose princess to a challenging boss girl in seconds. After he made her come, of course. But Lando's mind was truly getting blurry at that point. He kept saying her name as like some sort of prayer as he carried himself to the heavenly release. It was the ultimate relief, dipping in a hot water, getting charged with electricity, tasting the sweetest drink, stepping into the hottest sunshine. Whatever kind of pleasure Lando could think of, nothing would ever mount to finally releasing it into her, especially after a long, oh so long, build up.

And with that, he fell next to her. Heave panting on both sides of the bed, before either of them spoke.

"All good? Are you ok?" he asked, just like he always did after they'd slept together. The thought of her not having a good time haunted him. He was aware that it sometimes came out more anxiously than he intended to, but who has a proper working brain after a sex session.

Y/N turned at him, blissful smile on her lips. "Oh yeah, baby. Love when you come home like this."

He smirked, getting some of the blood back to his brain. "Hmm, I also love coming home."

Their fucked out minds chuckled at the stupid joke. He gathered all the remaining strenght, got up and cleaned her up.

"Oh God, I've missed you," she complained into the no quiet room, still filled with sex air.

"You have no idea, how much I did, sweetheart."

//

It had been a good few weeks before Lando found himself once again in Martin's studio. This time Y/N was able to join him on the iconic couch. They sat, her legs relaxed over his, Lando's hand stroking her shins innocently. Physical touch boy if there ever was one.

Light banter laced the evening, few sips from Martin's signature vodka sodas and general lightness of the company were bound to end up with Martin sharing his latest relationship news. The alternative girl he met in Germany? Yeah, that was over. However, the track was definitely not.

"Ok, but like, I'd never seen you this anxious about a new track before," Y/N spoke, feeling like there was something these two guys were walking around, somewhat afraid to say hat it was.

Martin and Lando shared a look. There was not a single bone in Lando's body that was afraid of Y/N reaction to this track. He way in fact dying to know what Martin has done with it in the past few weeks. Martin was not allowed by his label to send any demos, only to show them in person. Well, he was not even allowed that, but it's not like they were there with them in the room. Martin raised his brows while looking at Lando, as if to look for a permission. Lando nodded, secretly looking forward to seeing what Y/N had to say about their newest idea.

"Well, I'm actually still working on a track we tried to finish when your boyfriend was here the last time," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah mate, I'm stoked to hear what you recorded," Lando said, trying to add some entusiasm to Martin's speech.

Martin's face formed a small frown. "Well, I'm worried, mate. Listen for yourself, it might be just me hearing this track for too many times. But, I'm afraid it does not work."

This took Lando by surprise - he was full on expecting a hot, sexy banger.

Martin did not add anything and upon Y/N's plea for finally play it and with zero protests on Lando's side, he did just that.

So they listened to the almost six minute track. The instrumentals were basically in the exact same state as when Lando was there for the last time. Intrigue filled his body as the tempo slow down came - it must have been time for the moaning to start. He could not wait to see Y/N's reaction. Was there a chance she would actually be mad and consider it tacky?

He didn't let her out of his sight, no matter how much Martin tried to catch his eye. Y/N sat there, her usual focused face on, as per any other time they'd listen to a new track.

And just like that, it took Lando only few bars of the part with the moans to understand where Martin's disinterest came from. This wasn't the right vibe. There was absolutely no comparison to the original track they'd based this on. It was a weak mockery of that whole idea. Sounded cheap, almost fake and with no atmosphere whatsoever. A face of slight disgust formed on Lando's face and he temporarily forgot he was watching Y/N for her reaction. They finally exchanged a look with Martin, both knowing this was just not working. While the girl moaning into the track had a perfect pitch, something was just not right.

Only when the moans and sighs part of the track ended he noticed the look on his girlfriends face and started actually feeling embarrassed. Will she think this as his idea and that he is a pervy simpleton? That he actually likes this?

He started his defense before she'd have any time for a reaction.

"That's not good, mate," he stated the more than obvious. Martin nodded, his expression hard to decipher. "It was not meant to sound this cheap."

"Yeah, don't know what to tell you. We recorded this with like two other producers in the room, this girl is apparently a good porn actress with a perfect pitch. But it sounds just like that. Like, I wanted to create a hot track, this is just cheap and kind of sad."

Lando gulped, almost fearing Y/N's reaction.

And boy, was she staring at him. It almost caught him of guard. Definitely silenced him. If he had to describe it, it would something along the lines of shooting arrows. Lando felt very small. But then, like by some sort of miracle, the corner of her lip turned up and a cheeky smile started to form. Martin knew more than interfere in their silent conversations and turned around to leave them be. A shot of confidence went though Lando's bloodstream and he gave Y/N a questioning look. Almost wanting to challenge her to say something. She shot her eyebrows up and tried to bite her smile away. Lando played dumb and shook his head, as if he did not understand. With that, she nodded toward his phone that was lying next to his hips. Lando's eyes went wide and his heart rate went up. Is she really suggesting this?

Out of nowhere, her look still firm on Lando - who stopped blinking a long time ago - she spoke, probably more to Martin than her boyfriend.

"I love the idea, and I think it could catch on really well. But like you said. You can't fake that if it's suppose to be good. Any girl will se right through this anyway."

Was Lando about to fall in love all over again?

"So what, am I suppose to pay someone to fuck in the studio?"

The silence that followed was a heavy, awkward, hot and hilarious one. Many looks were exchanged between the three of them before, as they say, all the pennies dropped.

"Oh my God," Martin exclaimed. Neither Lando or Y/N reacted in any verbal way, however Lando did raise his eyebrows in order to stop his smile from growing. Failing at that miserably. Suddenly, he was more than aware of Y/N legs near his crotch.

Martin shook his head, as if he became prudent out of nowhere and spun on his chair few times, most likely thinking it over. Lando was about to step in to ease the tension, but Y/N was faster.

"It would be the easiest way to test if the track works, just saying," she commented and Lando tried to stay as still as possible, almost worried that if he moves to much, he might wake up.

To potentially have his girlfriends orgasm voice blasted anonymously in clubs all around the world was doing some thing to his semi-exhibicionist persona, which he had to keep buried deep down. Things he had a lot of trouble admitting to outloud.

The conversation was continuing, no matter how spaced out and horny Lando became.

"Ok, say it works. Are you ok with this staying on the track?" Martin asked Y/N only. He knew his mate well enough to figure he'd be more than fine with it.

Y/N seemed to think about it, in a serious way, for few moments. The air felt oh-so-heavy to Lando. Please, say yes. Both of you.

"As long as it stays anonymous and nobody else, not even your label ever finds out, I say we go and give it a try," she answered and turned over to her boyfriend. He knew the look she had on her face more than well. It was the same one she'd have after agreeing to press record on their personal sex voice memos. And it was doing things to him.

It looked like Martin was coming around with the idea.

"Fuck it, ok then. I guess, I'll just press the button and give you guys some space in the recording room. But like, bare in mind I only need her, not you," he hinted over to Lando, "and for the sake of our friendship, I'd really appreciate if you kept it clean in terms of dirty talk. I don't want this to be the reason I died. Also no...mess please. Ugh."

Lando downed his drink, still unable to believe this was happening, and finally spoke again. "I'm sure there is a way to make sure we get only Y/N's voice."

Images flooded their heads - for Y/N very much wanted, to perfectly contrast Martin's reaction, who was sitting on the complete opposite of the excitement spectrum.

"Ok, let's go with it before I change my mind," Martin said and began prepping the recording room.

Lando squeezed his girlfriends hand, to make sure she was really ok with it.

"I love you," he whispered, unable to hold it in.

"Me too. I'm happy you don't think of me as slutty or perverted," she replied, hint of shame for the first in a long time creeping on her face.

"I would never....We can stop whenever, if you stop feeling it, ok? Please promise you'll let me know."

There was a look on her face he couldn't put a name on. "Thank you."

Martin coughed demonstrateively. "Lando, come over. I'll tell you what to do." Lando eyebrows shot up once again. "Not like that, with the recording, you weirdo," Martin exhaled, already regretting the decision.

//

"So, the recording is on, have a good one, I guess," were Martin's last words before Y/N was about to have a series of little deaths.

And with the click of the door, they were alone. Deep dark silence. Never before has she seen Lando stare at her this much like a hunter would at his prey. His good name was on the line. Maybe not for the whole world, but he had to show his best bud he can make his girl come. And perhaps something more than that.

The room was small, light dimmed out.

"So, what do you have in mind?" she asked softy, still not quite in the same feral mood Lando was in. He crossed over the distance between them slowly to put a finger on her mouth.

"No words, remember?" he reminded himself probably more than her. His plan was never to fuck her here. She'd soon find that out.

With ease and confidence only those who kissed each other countless of times, he locked his lips with hers. His hand in the back of her hair, pulling, not gently. Her tongue rolled over his and she bit his upper lip, to return the favor perhaps. Her head bent back and he follow the train to her collarbone with pecks. With ease, he started walking her over to the chair here the recording artist would usually sit. Today, she'd be the main act and he her muse. She was regretting not wearing a skirt that day. He saw no issue when he pulled her jeans down. He was already hard and just had to squeeze himself for few times, a mindless action. No doubt in his mind that before the night calls quits that day, he'd see his own release. She noticed his moves and tried to get in on the action, only to somewhat wake him up from his own selfishness as he stopped her hands reaching his crotch. Another head shake - hopefully, this time she'd get the hint.

Her eyes were filled with hot wanderlust and with that, she gave up on trying to take the lead. He smiled and got rid of her panties as well.

Two strong hands popped her up on the round chair with no back rest. One last kiss on the lips before he knelt down. Stomach tingled with anticipation. Lando was taking his time, slowly kissing his way up her legs. The ever so blue, green and whatever colored eyes glowing with lust. He stopped at the spot where thighs and knees bend, his tongue finally out, as if for a practice run. Only recently he found out about her secret soft spot. He watched her face relax and give in, first pleasure arriving. He was the moon and her body a shore, waiting for the waves.

Long heavy breath. Lando wanted, needed more. He progressed further and further, until the only place left to go were her folds and wet core. But before that, he didn't for get to leave few bite marks on her upper thighs. Quick catch of breath and her hands buried in his curls. Watching him as if the gods had sent him to ruin her.

And they might have. Normally, he's utter few cheeky lines before dipping his tongue deep into her, but the looks were all he could use this time.

Relaxed and come for me, baby. Drip all over this chair and make them know I can make you scream.

His tongue could as well be completely dry and it would not matter. They way how he was all over her got her wet anyway. His moves were never the same, yet they always worked like magic. He twisted, pulled in and out and all over. Slight bite at her less sensitive folds. Clit suck. And then he called upon his fingers to assist. She was barely sitting on the chair, legs fully rested on his shoulders, priorities loud and clear. As were her moans she didn't notice at first. She had to support herself with her arm, squeezing the weak leather top of the chair. Her other hand was busy with pushing Lando's face towards her. First tide started to arrive. Lando drew his head back to catch some breath - and she let him, because his fingers became the main act. He made sure to hold the tempo, knowing that would work like volume increase button. Was there a more beautiful sight than watching a woman you love hit the highs of life? Lando very much doubted. Judging by the way her face clenched, she must have forgotten the why and where. Her throat served like a gateway to pleasure sounds. And she screamed, more and even more once he sucked her clit again.

They call it little deaths because it might just be the only accurate description of what washed over her. If wasn't often he'd go down on and not fuck her shortly afterwards. Since that was out of the picture, she focused fully on his moves, knowing this was the peak.

He felt her relax after a particularly loud scream. Coming down to Earth once again. She opened her eyes and he smirked. He knew, by the way she tried to steady his breath and the slight movement of her supporting hand that she considered it "job done". She nodded and head and he shook his once again. Her puzzling look quickly replaced by a lip bite as his mouth traveled back to her core.

One more round, one could say Lando's ego was becoming the main hero of this story. The thought of somebody having to go and listen to another round of him destroying his girl with pleasure was an intoxicating one.

//

Martin's track was an instant hit and minor shock to the public. Never before has he released something so explicit. Y/N's screams were out for the whole world to listen and it did a wonder to their sex life. It was something else to fuck and blast your own love soundtrack on.

There were two main versions release, one less explicit, for the DJ's to play around the radio during the day and for club goers to party to during the night.

Lando stopped counting how many times it happened that in the middle of the day he'd hear this song around the paddock radio. Whenever he did, he would send Y/N a photo with a cheeky wink, and she'd do the same when she had the luck of listening to her own voice in public like that. A nice, somewhat innocent tradition for them only to understand.

//

Keep you friends close and rivals closer. That's how Lando ended up at one of the many celebrations of Max Verstappen's title celebrations. Little did he mind, secretly loving the fact the pressure was off him for a moment. Expensive alcohol flowing freely also helped.

He found himself sitting in a VIP booth across from Max, by some stroke of luck, alone. And of course, that was the first time he slipped up. Somehow he managed to avoid a situation when someone who knew him well was around when Martin's monaco kiss came up.

"the recording is on, have a good one, I guess"

Martin decided to keep his own line in the intro, only later admitting he'd re-recorded it out of his own insecurity. Which Lando found very amusing, given the fact him and Y/N only needed one take to get it right perfectly.

His stomach dropped a bit when he heard the now iconic opening line. Shifted a bit to regain some composure. Sipping a drink might help to hide his slight panic and lack of any real light did not allow his blushed cheeks to go noticed.

Across from him, Max was nodding his feet to the beat of the track. The conversation grew stale a moment while, so Max's complimentary comment on Lando's friend's track must have been intended as an innocent ice-breaker.

"what do you have in mind"

Another line kept in from the recording. Y/N's real voice hidden under many layers of autotune to keep her identity anonymous. As per her wish and Lando's secret regret.

The tempo started to slow down. Anyone would remember the track by heart if they'd listened to it the same amount of times as Lando had. Words were lost on him and he did not find a response to Max's comment. Very unusual from Lando. He sipped his now empty drink, hoping more liquid had magically appeared. Max noticed something was off. And then the key jump, straight out the book Diet Pepsi took inspiration from. Followed by the peak moan, or maybe a scream, from his girl for everyone to hear. It was not supposed to be this arousing. Max tilted his head and after another few beats, his intense stare aimed at his rival/friends went wide.

Lando tried to stop his smirk. He really did.

Max's mouth went open and he stopped his breath before uttering a simply lovely, slightly astonished: "No way."

Lando averted his gaze to the crowd below in order to avoid Max, who chuckled and took a big gulp of his not-empty glass.

If the lights went on, everybody would be able to see a bright red Lando. He was never going to break his promise about keeping this a secret, so he did not comment. But he grinned at Max's nod of approval.

He excused himself as went to the bar. Searching for his girl.

Light brush on her waist made her turn, wonder in her eyes easing when she saw it was him. They were both in the same horny headspace.

He leaned in and whispered, as much as one can whisper in a club, the last few beats of their track playing. "You sound so hot, baby. I'm so down bad for you."

Tipsy, she shot him a wide smile and mouthed a silent "i love you".