#marriage band near me

[masterband443]

Book the Best Marriage Band Near Me | Master Band - Expert Wedding Services

Looking for the perfect Marriage Band near Me? Master Band, established in 1955, offers exceptional wedding services, including live music, traditional instruments, and a vibrant procession. Let us make your special day unforgettable with our expert band performances and professional event coordination, ensuring a lively and memorable celebration.

[masterbanddelhi]

Wedding Band Services in Delhi - Master Band

The wedding band is one of the most entertaining parts of a marriage that will excite the guests. But to make it more interesting, you will have to hire the top wedding bands. At present, you can easily find several wedding band services in Delhi. But it can also lead you to certain confusion in choosing the right one. However, you can find some information that will help you understand the importance of marriage bands at the wedding.

[luveline]

Hi love your work. I was wondering if you could do a role reversal of the bombshell!reader under anesthesia? One where Aaron woke up and has forgotten he's married to reader so is shocked at her affection (not in a bad way), he just can't believe this beautiful woman is flirting with snd comforting him?

thank you for requesting! fem

Aaron is woken by a soft, displeased hum. 

He pries sticky eyes apart to peek at the source, a woman his junior with a tray table wheeled in front of her. You have neat hands, clipped nails painted softest pink, a ring on your marriage finger, and a little pearl necklace that’s fallen free of your collar to swing as you pen a letter. No, not a letter. A case file. 

You’re a police officer? 

He turns the other way, hoping for a more familiar face, but the only inhabitants of the room are you, him, and his pounding headache. A groan slips past his lips unbidden, Aaron watching in real time as you look up like he’s shocked you. You turn sympathetic and softer, somehow, your face plucking a weird string in his chest. It’s almost like deja vu, but Aaron would remember being looked at like this. 

“You okay?” you ask quietly. 

He clears his throat. “What happened?” he asks hoarsely. Clearing his throat a second time proves more successful. “What happened?” 

“You were struck hard in the back of the head with a rifle. A few times, actually. Luckily nothing broke, but you have a cut and a bruise like nobody’s business. Try not to touch.” 

“What about the team?” 

He realises with a start that he can’t remember who he means. Were the team actually with him? Dave had been there, right? Derek? 

“Reid sprained his wrist. Everyone else is fine.” 

Reid, you said, and not Dr. Reid. Aaron frowns deeply, the headache a full, eye-deep pain that worsens when he props himself up on his elbows. 

You watch him carefully. After a moment, you push the table away from you and get up, turning to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let his eyes widen, not even as you place your hand on his stomach, imploring in your gentleness, leaning in to see him better. In that moment, you might be the most beautiful woman Aaron has ever seen; his heart does a great whirl, picking up its pace. He has just enough capacity to recognise how lucky he is to be detached from any observational tech. 

“What’s worrying you, Aaron?” you ask, thumb rubbing a line into the skin just below his stomach. A butterfly like a hawk beats behind your touch. “You have that strange pinch between your eyebrows.” You draw a line up his stomach, showing him how they’re pulled up. He must look near tears as you go. “You only get that when you’re scared, but everyone’s fine, I promise.” 

He must know you. You clearly know him, your tone alone settling his heart while his mind races. 

“You won’t be out of the field long, and you know I can do it for you while you’re gone. I’m capable,” you say. 

“You are,” he says. He’s telling the truth, though he doesn’t know how. 

You shuffle further up the bed. Aaron sits properly, forcing your hand to fall. You clasp his thigh on instinct, and that tumultuous zing of deja vu washes over him again. 

“You have the worst luck, handsome,” you murmur, rubbing at his leg, soothing him without thinking. 

“I…” He trails off as he catches sight of your wedding band. Silver-gold, a pear-shaped 3.00ct diamond. He chose it on a whim. Aaron nearly swallows his own tongue as he looks up, the memory of it not quite connecting to you. You. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re being so quiet,” he asks. 

“Well, you gave me a bad scare,” you say, leaning in further, unafraid to breathe his air. “I thought I lost you. It was terrifying.” 

The breathlessness in your confession is a barb. He grabs your hand where it lays and squeezes accordingly. “That won’t happen,” he promises. 

You turn your hand into his, slotting your fingers together deftly. “Do you remember me now, Hotchner?” you ask. 

He looks you straight in the eye. He doesn’t remember you, not really. But he remembers the size of your fingers threaded through his, and he remembers how nervous he’d tried not to be when he bought that ring, and he remembers your hand warming his thigh in the car every morning. 

“Almost,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“You said something similar the first time you woke up. I blamed the morphine for your puppy-eyes, but…” You smile at him fondly. “I don’t think you’re drugged enough to say it and not mean it, now.” 

“I mean it,” he says, nodding. “Of course I mean it.”

“I know.” You kiss his cheek. 

“Will you tell me your name?” he asks. 

You do, and Aaron falls in love with you all over again. 

[chawlaband]

Punjabi Bhangra Dhol | Dhol Wala in Delhi - Chawla Band

Punjabi Bhangra Dhol in Delhi

Music is in the blood of Indians; no matter the occasion, you like to celebrate it with the blast of music. Therefore, to do this, people often call different discos or bands and many more. However, many people like Punjabi bhangra dhol when it comes to occasions with their family or friends.

Punjabi Bhangra dhol is one of the essential instruments that Indians like to play when it comes to festivals and marriages, or occasions. Therefore, if you are willing to buy bhangra dhol in Delhi, you might want to have a detailed guide before buying a dhol.

Punjabi Dhol in Delhi is played with two sticks and is very popular with the younger generation today. Therefore, there are several factors to consider when considering buying a Bhangra Drum. Consider affordability and budget, market availability, and facts about Dhol.

The thing to consider before making a purchase of Punjabi dhol in Delhi

Bhangra traditional music is something that not only the old generation likes, but the newer generation is also in love with the rhythm. Therefore, you can easily encounter the need amongst the younger generation to own bhangra as their greatest possession.

Further, the music of the Dhol is what you are buying it for. Hence, the rhythm of the Dhol is an extremely important factor to understand. Therefore, the beat of the Dhol is what makes the music so joyous and spiritual. So, consider the music while buying the Dhol. However, if you put your faith in Chawla Band, you will get the best quality Dhol.

Before buying a Punjabi dhol in Delhi, you shall understand what your needs are by asking these questions to yourself. For instance, do you want just to learn to play Dhol? Or are you a beginner trying to set your hands over the instrument? Or you are a professional who wants to use this instrument to play at functions and occasions. You can be any of these; you should rethink your goals. After asking yourself these questions, you can consider these factors for your purchase.

The Material of the Dhol

Before you decide to buy a Punjabi dhol from a dhol wala in Delhi, you shall go through the details about what kind of material you want for your Dhol. The magic of the Dhol relies on the bass of the Dhol, and it can go on a toss if it isn’t good.

You can understand the feelings of a Punjabi who unites with their folk dancing troop through a piece drum. Moreover, anyone can understand the power and possession they owe while dancing the bhangra.

Choosing a dhol that has the quality of beat is necessary to maintain the spirit. Therefore, consider buying a dhol that is made of pure Sheesham. However, over the years, Sheesham dhols have become extremely expensive. Hence, now you can try to invest your money in these three materials, which range from expensive to less expensive.

Ripe Sheesham

This wood is one of the most aged woods on the list. In addition, it is one of the densest and most expensive dhol types on the list. Hence, if you are into bold and superb sounds, you can buy this type.

These Punjabi dhols are highly durable for one person. The color of this Dhol is dark, and you can see dark grains running through it. However, being the most expensive on the list, you shall think before investing your money in the piece of Dhol.

Raw/ripe Sheesham

Raw and Ripe or Kachi pakki Sheesham is extremely popular amongst dhol players. These dhols are somewhat dark and yellowish, often appearing as a gradient type. They have a less dense quality than the first one on the list. However, they have a bold bass that can rock the area for good.

Mango wood

Mango woods are good quality but inferior to the others on the list. Hence, professional players may not consider buying these. However, a block of mango wood is good for beginners who want to learn to play dhols for the first time. The Dhol is not as bold as the other two in the list.

Parts of the Dhol

When considering investing your money, Punjabi bhangra dhol considers having a note over the parts that are mostly used in dhols. Therefore, you shall have a thorough detail over hooks, nuts, penny washer, tension ring, internal washer, and many more. In addition, you shall also understand the skin and ropes that are used in the Dhol, as it greatly affects the sound.

Conclusion

As Indians, we all love music in our day-to-day life as well as on occasion. However, some of you may like to call DJs, and others may like to incline more toward traditional music. Further, some of you may like Punjabi bhangra dhol in your functions to create hype. Therefore, this article can help you choose the best dhol wala in Delhi according to your needs.

[jeonstellate]

my future in your eyes

mingyu still holds onto you, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au, exes-to-lovers!au — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s as you are.

๑彡 i’m lowk proud of this ngl bc— it’s fluff, but it took me relatively quick to finish?? usually i get stuck for weeks if the wip’s fluff ><

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

Not that he uses his confidence to swindle strangers, as the dictionary suggests the title means. Rather, he exudes confidence — regardless of what he does.

There is always an air confidence around him. He can be in clothes that don’t fit the event’s theme and he’ll still seem perfectly dressed. He can be barely conversant in another language and he’ll still sound like he knows what he’s saying. He can just be standing there, doing nothing, and he’ll still appear like he’s doing something right.

Some people mistake his confidence for arrogance. Most find it admirable. But, in truth, Mingyu hardly cares.

Especially if his so-called confidence vanishes whenever you are in the vicinity and within his line of sight. Just like now.

He sees you in a table with Seokmin. Your back is towards him but he recognizes you, anyway. Despite the distance, he has no problem witnessing how animatedly you talk with your common friend.

It’s almost like he is back in college: you and Seokmin in one row, him and Minghao a few rows back. He can almost hear Minghao state matter-of-factly, "You’re staring," like he often does back then.

Really, all that’s different is Minghao’s currently preoccupied being the groom to comment on his staring. (There are definitely more things that are different now, but he doesn’t want to even begin thinking about them.)

Seokmin catches his stare. Not soon after, specifically before Mingyu can even look away, he sees him leave the table. Seokmin throws him a familiar meaningful look before disappearing into the dance floor.

Truth be told, Mingyu’s confidence comes naturally. It isn’t something that he purposely channels. It’s just always there . . . unless you are involved. Then, suddenly, he has to painstakingly gather the confidence to be near you.

"Is this seat taken?" He tries his hardest to mask his awestruck look with one of kind politeness as he waits your response.

He almost forgot how to breathe when your eyes lock into his. "You may sit if you wish," you offer him a small, polite smile. "I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon."

"Thanks." He effortlessly returns your gesture before situating himself on the chair your common friend abandoned. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"Really well, actually. I didn’t expect to recognize a lot of people from college." Your eyes don’t leave his as you answer. He tries not to stare back too intently, to look within your eyes to see something . . . anything. "And you?"

Mingyu waits for a beat, gathering enough confidence to say what he wants to. "Better now that you’re here." With me.

He lets out a barely audible embarrassed laugh. He has half a mind to take it back, but quickly changes his mind when he sees you biting your lower lip — an obvious attempt to stop yourself from laughing.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. There’s pride in knowing he’s still able to make you laugh, despite it being your first meeting in literal years.

You look down in a presumable attempt to calm yourself down. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, though, as he refuses to lose you from his sight. As such, he immediately notices the sudden shift in your expression.

"You’re still wearing it." Mingyu follows your line of sight — and ends up looking at the source of your comment. His hand on the table, specifically the band of gold adorning his ring finger. "Our ring."

Our wedding ring.

You and Mingyu married soon after graduating from college. It had been a blissful marriage, one that filled a home with nothing but love and support.

Your divorce was on the basis of irreconcilable differences. It was a mutual decision, for the interest of your career paths diverging too far. There was never a bad blood.

"Ye— yeah." Mingyu stutters involuntarily. He clears his throat before continuing, "It’s a great conversational piece."

Although the divorce has been finalized years ago, Mingyu still plays the faithful and loving husband role in front of strangers. He uses the ring on his finger to his advantage: may that be to wordlessly signal that he’s already taken or to gain the favor of a potential sponsor.

Likewise, even if he knows the ring might be a disadvantage, he refuses to take it off — nor to purposely hide it from sight. The same way he never tells a stranger that he is no longer tied to someone else.

"Does it work?" You ask in wonder.

"We are conversing now, aren’t we?"

You chuckle, "Touché."

Mingyu wants to tell you that he hasn’t taken the ring off since you slipped it on his finger during your wedding. Not even after your divorce has been finalized all those years ago.

He wants to tell you his ring finger is thinner near his palm because of his adamant refusal to take his wedding ring off once in a while. Not willing to separate from the only physical reminder of your marriage, not even for a second.

He wants to tell you the ring is more than a conversational piece. He wants to tell you it’s his lifeline, something he can’t bear to lose. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Mingyu uses all the confidence he has gathered to ask you a simple question. "Dance with me?"

He offers you the hand adorned by his wedding ring. He tries not to show the uncertainty he feels by masking it behind a smile.

He almost lets out a relieved sigh when you place your hand on top of his. But he stops breathing momentarily when he catches sight of the sole jewelry adorning your hand.

"You’re still wearing it," Mingyu echoes your comment breathlessly. "Our ring."

He snaps his eyes back to your face, just in time to witness your smile widen. "Yeah," you say. "It’s a great talisman to ward off potential suitors."

He leads you to the dance floor, silently marveling at how your hand still fits perfectly with his. "Does it work?"

"It’s very effective," you assure him. "Although I don’t think it works well against ex-husbands."

Another slow song starts playing right when you reach the dance floor. You and Mingyu unconsciously claim your respective hand placements during your first dance — and for any waltz you danced after.

Then, suddenly, it’s like you traveled back in time.

Mingyu pulls you closer, a ghost of a smirk is at the edge of his lips. "I think it works well attracting ex-husbands."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

On the subject of Bruce Wayne getting married: why not both? They have a marriage of convenience at Vegas first, but once they're deep in their feels, they have another more intimate and meaningful ceremony officiated by Alfred

UGH anon i could not agree more

Warnings: Marriage of convenience; fluff

Summary: It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

"We should get married."

It's mumbled against your temple mid-nuzzle, and chased by the warm pressure of Bruce drawing you impossibly closer. Your brow furrows even as your lips pull into a smile, your head tipping back to get a better look at Bruce in the dim bedroom light.

"We are married," You remind him.

"Properly," He insists.

You have to consider it for a moment.

Your first wedding hadn't exactly been a grand affair.

You still remember the roiling nerves as you'd pulled up to the drive-through chapel in Vegas. You'd known that the press would catch up with you in the next twelve hours; that every woman that had ever shown an outward interest in Bruce, so much as breathed in his direction, would come out of the woodwork; that you were likely expected to ignore his infidelity for the year of your contract.

But Bruce had held your hand tightly, come home faithfully. Your physical attraction had only grown as your emotional attachment had flourished. While Bruce's nights could be late, you never had a hint of infidelity from the press, or from Bruce himself.

You knew that you were in far too deep the first time the two of you had slept together. You hadn't been able to take your eyes off of him—even as you'd cum, your gaze had been glued to him, watching his eyes slip shut as his jaw dropped, your name and a murmur of, "Fuck," mingling as his hips stuttered.

It was supposed to be easy—a year-long marriage of convenience to keep Bruce's name clean; cash for your time spent, for your name and likeness splashed all over the papers, run through the mud by the tabloids.

You'd been in a tough spot; you were willing to risk it.

But you couldn't have banked on falling in love with Bruce, or on Bruce falling in love with you.

For better or worse, in sickness and in health, sometimes it feels too damn good to be true. Sometimes you wake up in Bruce's arms, and you just keep still and hold your breath. You revel in the warmth and comfort of his arms, and just feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

You've known that the end of your contract was nearing, but Bruce hasn't mentioned it.

Not until now.

"Properly?" You question, fingers skimming along his side. Bruce hums, hands sliding over your shoulder. "Was there some hitch with the first license that I don't know about?"

Bruce huffs softly, and your stomach flips as his hand slips up to your neck, grasping at the base and tipping your head up. You meet his eyes steadily, searching his gaze as his thumb skims along your nape.

"Go ahead," He urges, "Lie."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me you don't feel this, too."

"Bruce," You huff, pushing yourself up, drawing back from his arms. It's hardly a few seconds before Bruce is up behind you.

"Tell me."

"It's just—We have a contract."

"Fuck the contract."

"You're speaking in a lot of absolutes."

"...Look at me."

You hesitate, gaze lingering on the gold band on your wing finger before you tip your head back toward him. You let your eyes sweep and settle on his chest, his shoulder. It's safe there.

But Bruce has never been one to go the safe route. He reaches up, curling his fingers tenderly around your jaw, tipping your chin up and forcing your eye contact.

"If you want out, tell me right now," He insists. "Nothing from the arrangement will change. We'll divorce, you'll have your stipend...Or," He leans into it softly, "We keep on. Nothing changes...Alfred will get ordained—"

"Bruce!"

"—And marry us properly...He should've been there the first time."

You frown as his face shifts, his eyes dropping to your lap. You hadn't known then, but you know now how dear Alfred is to Bruce, and Bruce is to Alfred. You hadn't known when you'd agreed to the contract, but it's become crystal clear to you now.

You push a quiet sigh through your nose, reaching up and taking hold of one of Bruce's hands in both of yours.

"What if you change your mind?" You ply softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...This was supposed to be temporary, Bruce. We had a deal—we have paperwork, for fuckssake."

"I'll add a non-compete."

"Be serious—"

"I am being serious." Bruce intertwines your fingers, raising your hand and pressing a kiss to your ring. "Not about the non-compete, but...About Alfred. About getting married—and meaning it, this time."

You consider for a few moments before you lean against Bruce, sliding your thumb along his knuckles as you consider.

"The contract should be retooled into a prenup."

"We don't need a prenup."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"No," Bruce insists. "I'm being decisive. I know what I'm doing."

"What if you're wrong about me?"

"I'm not."

"Are you always so full of yourself?"

"Sure of myself."

"Tomato, to-mah-to."

"Are you gonna marry me again or not, Mrs. Wayne?"

You grin, tipping your head back to press a gentle kiss to Bruce's jaw.

"Again and again, Mr. Wayne."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; 

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @missswriter ; @nominalnebula

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Where they had a date on their anniversary and as they were walking baking in each other's presence, there was a fireworks. Watching fireworks with Toto. Fluff and sweet. Thanks!! :))

I remember, do you? - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Plot: in which you and toto like to play a game called I remember, do you? Whenever you guys have important dates out!

You and your husband Toto had busy lives, between your business and him running across the country every other weekend to manage an F1 team and parenting it was hard to find time for each other.

Luckily on your 10 year anniversary, Lewis and George had band together and offered child care for free for the whole evening and day after for you and Toto to go out.

You’d had an incredible meal, in a restaurant recommended by George and Carmen. It was very fancy and the perfect location for your anniversary.

You guys had wined and dined there for the whole evening just being able to catch up and all that you guys had missed in each others lives which was surprisingly more than you’d both expected.

After you’d had your filling of high class food and champagne you decided it would be nice for an evening walk.

His large arms wrap around you as you step out the restaurant as he pulls you closer to him almost to protect you from the biting autumn winds. You nuzzle closer into him.

“You want to play our game?” He asks looking down at you with a smile and you nod.

You’d come up with the game, called I remember do you? Where you’d tell a story and ask if they remembered the true accounts of what happened.

“You go first then” you smile hugging closer into him.

“Okay, I remember the first time I brought you to the paddock and Nico and Lewis were basically fighting over who would get to meet you first, do you?” He asks and you laugh a little.

“Mmmm I think they definitely thought I was going to be … older? They were shocked I think they were expecting a motherly figure but ended up with someone close to their age” you admit.

“I remember when we were on holiday in Trinidad and Tobago and those guys came up to me on the beach and they were asking me to come to that local bar for a drink and they stopped the minute you came over, all moody and broody and walked away, do you?” You ask with a laugh, very fond of the memory.

“Mmm i think my version of that story is a little different” he laughs a different look in his eyes as he tries to recall his account.

“How do you remember it then?” You ask eyes wide as you look up at him.

“Well it ended up in me threatening them and beating them up but we were both very intoxicated on Caribbean liquor the whole of that holiday” he laughs knowing that his memories might not be the most trustworthy for that holiday.

“Okay, I remember when we had that really big argument about how alone Theo was and that progressed into Tilly happening, do you?” he grins thinking back to the most memorable argument you two had ever had in your marriage.

“I do, i yelled at you a lot and then you were just all over me, kissing every inch of my body” you giggle remembering the way Theo your son had ended up with a little sister.

“You know, I think it would be perfect time to try for another” he admits, pulling you in closer and his cold hands finding his way under your jumper and rubbing circles on your hips as he spins you guys to a stop on the pavement to look over you.

“Yeah? I think now is a good time too” you nod agreeing with him.

“Okay, I remember when I left for a week for work, and when I came back Theo was obsessed with the idea of driving because all you’d done everyday for the whole week was take him to the Karting Track near us, do you?” You ask with a pointed look.

“I do, and Theo was the one that asked! I didn’t force him” he cries out to defend himself, knowing that his son would just have racing in his blood.

“Mmmmm well I guess if he wants to, then it cannot be helped” you laugh pulling him by his hand to continue walking.

“I remember when you were pregnant and we got stuck on that train going from London to Brackley, and it broke down and you had no food or water and you were crying from how hungry you were and then that kid offered you his chocolate bar, and you were tying so hard not to cry, do you?” He asks and you look up at him shocked.

“No? Wait when was this?”

“Oof now you’re testing me. You must have been about 8 months pregnant, with Tilly and we were on our way to the factory to have a meeting with Lewis and George?” He says recalling the day and you look up at him trying to wrack your own brain for the memory.

“I have no recollection of that, that’s so strange” you admit trying to think back to the stormy train.

“Well we’ll just blame it on pregnancy brain huh?ñ he jokes as you cross over the quiet evening road onto a bridge above the Thames River.

You guys continue the game for a little longer until loud noises and bright lights interrupt.

In seconds the sky is lit up with both colour fireworks and the smoke that dissipates from them. The sounds booming and sizzling in your ears.

You didn’t even know what they were for, there weren’t any festivals, and it wasn’t even close to bonfire night yet. And these fireworks, it felt like they were for the two of you.

You guys stopped walking over the bridge and pushed to watch the fireworks and the shapes that they formed in the sky.

“Oh woah, look at that one! It looks like a star” you exclaim seeing the gold coloured firework spike out a 5 different points resembling that shape.

“Argh they’re so pretty” you smile and Toto nods in agreement, even though he isn’t paying attention to the fireworks, the only place he can see them is in your eyes.

The look of awe on his face is all he can focus on.

“Beautiful” he murmurs and you turn to look at him to see him watching you. You blush a deep red pulling him in closer to you to hide your embarrassment.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol

(picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

[kinardstits]

"Chim said something that got me thinkin'."

Tommy hummed, listening as he flipped a page on the thick book he was reading. "Good or bad thing?"

The hairy leg Tommy had his book on wiggled. "Good. I think. I hope?"

Peering over his reading glasses, Tommy paused. Evan was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, long legs thrown over his lap, watching him with soft eyes. Still, there was a small undercurrent of uncertainty tugging at the edges of his lips, enough for Tommy to carefully fold the edge of the page he was in and put the book aside. "What did he say?"

"Have you ever heard of the red thread theory?"

Tommy squinted as he thought, taking off his glasses and hooking them on the collar of his tank top. "Something about how people are connected, right?"

Buck beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "Yea! It's Chinese folklore, actually. At their beginning, the lunar matchmaker god ties a red thread around the ankles of two people destined to be together." He explains. "It's supposed to last forever; never break, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. No matter what, these people will meet and spend the rest of their lives together."

"That's sweet." Tommy grinned, wide and scrunchy. He loved romance. He loved love. "Let me guess, he was gushing about Maddie?" The sap.

"Not... quite?" Tugging at the strings of his hoodie, Buck hesitated a bit. "He was talking about us."

"—Us?"

"Yea. I mean," And Buck paused, searching for the correct words. "Given the folklore, we kinda fit? You left the 118 and I joined to fill your position. There was Abby, and I still can't believe you were her Tommy, what are the odds— Then, there was that residential fire in which Chim called you to do a drop, and wow— we've always been kinda orbiting each other, haven't we?"

Tommy hummed, smile shrinking into something softer, fonder. "Always near each other, but not quite connecting." He wrapped a hand around one of the other's bony ankles, thumb brushing over a white scar. He could almost picture the red fabric, gently draped around where his fingers were. "Growing a romantic bone, babe?"

"I'll show you what bone I'm growing." Teased Buck, wiggling his eyebrows. Tommy pinched him in retaliation. "It just— It fits, right? Us?"

"I mean," Looking around, Tommy felt fondness so suffocating he had to sigh. Evan had a place for his keys, right by his. A designated spot for his white sneakers, lest Tommy scuffs them with his boots. Half his kitchen was covered in appliances that weren't even his, and the left side of his garage was now perpetually clear for an extra vehicle. They had designated sides on his (their) bed. Half his wardrobe was Evan's. "I guess it does." They hadn't been together for half a year, yet. "If instead of a string we're talking about a red rubber band. Industrial strength, mind you. Indestructible."

Buck narrowed his eyes playfully. "It gets painful if you suddenly let it go?"

"No," Tommy drawled, drier than a desert but still gazing at the other like he had hung the moon. "No matter how far you stretch it, it always snaps back together."

Buck beamed wide, pulling back his legs and scrambling across the cushions to unceremoniously flop onto Tommy's lap. "Know what else the matchmaking god is known for?" At the other's shake of his head, he winked. "God of marriage."

Tommy barked out a surprised laugh, scrunching up his nose when Evan kissed his laugh lines. "Ask me again at our anniversary."

Buck perked right up, straightening, eyes wide. "Yea?"

Tommy just nodded, giddy. "Yeah."

Half a year later, if instead of rings they got matching red tattoos around their ankles, only they knew why.

(also @ AO3)

[hvaneyflowers]

First love... and the only. ***********

Lewis Hamilton x femreader! single mother!

You took your little son to meet Santa Claus and accidentally ran into your ex-boyfriend, Lewis Hamilton.

You and Lewis were together for three months during your high school time. You broke up after he started to get more serious with his racing career, and you decided that it didn't go with the lifestyle you had planned for you.

So you went to college and met a new guy, while he became a seven-time world champion. You got married and had a beautiful son, but your husband cheated on you with his secretary and left without saying goodbye. So now, you were a single mother of a toddler named Lucas. You were happy with your life. Being a mother was the best thing that had happened to you, but, deep inside you still miss Lewis. Every time you see him in the news you wonder how life would have become if you two were still together. Maybe you'd have the family you always dreamed about.

Little did you know, was that Lewis still misses you, too. He was engaged to his girlfriend of 7 seven years, Nicole, but never found the same happiness as he had when he was with you. He always thought about you and what had been life for you. He found your Instagram and found that you had a son, so you must be married. It hurt to see you with another man, but he knew he couldn't complain because it was you who decided to put a stop to your relationship.

Indeed, it was you who broke up with him. You were young and you were scared of the life he had planned for him. Becoming an F1 driver and a world champion. It sounded fantastic a first, but you immediately realized that it wasn't for you. Or that was what you wanted to think. You were scared of the fame he would have. All the people around you didn't stop telling you how he would cheat and leave you for a supermodel, or how he would be at parties every weekend and fall out of love with you. You didn't want to get hurt so you decided to break up with him.

Now you were with your little one waiting to meet Santa at the same place where Lewis was doing his Christmas shopping with the dog that would catch your son's attention.

******

yourusername

liked by 5.000

yourusername: we met Santa! 🎅

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*******

"Come on, my love. We're going for a piece of chocolate cake!" you told your little son.

"Pup!" your one-year-old screamed enthusiastically as he saw a dog walking near him. He let go of your hand and ran fast to the dog.

"Lucas! What have I told you? Never let go of mommy's hand when we are outside with a lot of people." you scolded him, putting on your knees to be his height.

"sowee, mommy. But pup!" he said pointing to the dog again.

"Be good to him, okay?" you warned him.

"y/n? y/n l/n?" someone asked behind you.

You frowned your eyebrows as you listened to your name. That voice. You could swear you've heard that voice somewhere. Maybe on TV or the radio. But who was its owner? You turned around slowly only to find your high school sweetheart. Lewis Hamilton.

"Lewis," you whispered in shock.

In front of you was the seven-time world champion of Formula 1, Lewis Hamilton, or as you used to call him, "my love". He looked just as surprised as you. You had never seen each other again since your graduation more than 15 years ago. He looked so handsome. Age has been good to him.

"Pup!" your son's voice got you out of your thoughts.

"His name is Roscoe. Roscoe, say "hi" to our new friend," he kneeled down, petting his dog.

"Say "hi" to Roscoe, Lucas. Be gentle, baby," you told your son, doing the same as Lewis.

Lewis looked at you as you were speaking to your little son. You looked as beautiful as you were the last time he saw you 15 years ago. He was still in love with you. He quickly took a look at your hand. You weren't wearing a marriage band, so you must be single. Maybe he can try to be with you once again. He won't let you go again. Not this time.

"Do you want to drink coffee with me?" he asked you without warning.

You looked at him in disbelief. You wanted to cry. Memories came through your mind, remembering how much you still loved him.

"Yes!" your son answered, running to Lewis. He laughed and hugged him.

"Do you want some hot chocolate, buddy?" he asked him.

"Yep" the little kid answered.

"And you, y/n?" he asked you. You looked him in his eyes, and you could swear he was almost begging with them.

"Yes, I would like it." you finally answered with a little smile.

"Fantastic! For the good old times." he smiled.

You went to a cafe outside the mall. Lucas was so happy to be there with Roscoe. They were best friends already. You sat in front of Lewis. You were nervous, like when you were a teenager on your first date.

"And... How are you? Long time no see." you broke the ice.

"Good. Everything's been good," he said.

"That's fantastic." You smiled.

"And you? You're a mother now. That's wonderful," he smiled, pointing to the toddler hugging his dog. Poor dog, you thought.

"Yes. His name is Lucas, and he's almost two. The best thing that could have happened to me. He's everything to me. My true love," you smiled, seeing your son.

"He's so cute, and I believe you're an amazing mother." he smiled at you.

"Thank you. I try my best." you laughed a little. You had missed this the most. The softness of being around him. His smile and laugh. God, you miss him a lot.

"And your husband?" he asked. Your smile faded down.

"I'm divorced. He left me for another girl. Much younger than me. We filled up the papers, and he left. He never came back, and Lucas doesn't know him and doesn't have his last name. It's only me and him." you told him staring at your coffee mug.

"He sounds like a jerk," he said, a little angry.

"He is," you laughed.

"I miss you," he confessed after a short silence.

You looked at him in surprise. He misses you like you miss him. Your eyes were full of tears. You wanted to cry. So many emotions and memories.

"Don't cry. I didn't tell you that for you to cry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. My fault." he tried to calm you down.

"It's not that. I just... I miss you, too. A lot." you confessed.

He smiled, and so did you. He rubbed your cheek with his hands and leaned to kiss you. You kiss slowly, not wanting to waste any feeling of it. You both had waited for that moment for so long. It felt unreal. When you pulled apart, your son was looking at you with curious eyes.

"Mommy?" he asked you.

"Hi, baby," you laughed at his cute angry face.

"Did you like your hot chocolate, buddy?" Lewis asked.

"No buddy," your son said, without looking at him.

You both laughed at your little son and spent the rest of the day talking about each other, enjoying your company. In the next few days, you were still in contact, and Lewis invited you and Lucas to spend Christmas with him. An invitation you didn't reject.

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 500.000 more.

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: Roscoe made a new friend at the mall, and I found the love of my life. Meet my first love and the only one, y/n. Love you, babe!❤️

view all 400 comments.

username2: WHAT?!

username8: DID YOU HAVE A KID AND DIDN'T TELL US?!

username0: I think that is his new girlfriend's kid.

username9: Roscoe looking good as always!

username3: Congrats! She's so beautiful. Sending love!

georgerussell63: I HAVE A BABY BROTHER!

landonorris: you meant Roscoe has a baby brother. You're more like an uncle. georgerussell63: I'm not so old! mickschumacher: if we're talking about ages, well, we should mention Fernando. He's the oldest. landonorris: Omg, yes! He gives vibes of being the grandfather! georgerussell63: So it's like this: Me: the (favorite) uncle. Lando: the second uncle. Mick: the third uncle. Fernando and Toto: the grandparents. I like it. landonorris: me too. mickschumacher: 👍 fernandoalo_oficial: what?

username83: LEWIS IS NOT SINGLE ANYMORE! I REPEAT: LEWIS HAMILTON IS NOT SINGLE ANYMORE!

username98: she's so beautiful! Congrats! I hope you're very happy with her!

username76: YOU'RE A DADDY NOW!

username4: that kid doesn't know who he has as a stepdaddy. SO LUCKY!

yourusername: ❤️

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, and 1.000 more.

tagged: lewis hamilton

yourusername: I've always loved you❤️

lewis hamilton: ❤️

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[masterband443]

How to Book the Perfect Marriage Band Near You for a Memorable Wedding

When it comes to planning a wedding, one of the most crucial elements that can set the tone for the entire celebration is the music. Whether it's the emotional tunes as the bride walks down the aisle, the energetic beats that get everyone dancing at the reception, or the traditional music that accompanies the Baraat, choosing the right marriage band can make or break your big day. If you're searching for the perfect Marriage Band near Me, you're in the right place. This guide will help you understand what to look for when booking a wedding band, with a special focus on Master Band, a reputed name in wedding services since 1955.

Why Music Matters in a Wedding

Music is not just a background element at a wedding; it’s the heartbeat of the event. It reflects the couple’s personality, sets the mood, and creates lasting memories for everyone present. From the moment guests arrive until the last dance of the evening, the music should flow seamlessly, enhancing each moment of the celebration.

Understanding Your Musical Needs

Before you start searching for a marriage band, it’s essential to identify what you need. Consider the different phases of your wedding day and the types of music that would be appropriate for each:

Pre-Ceremony Music: Soft, melodic tunes to welcome guests.

Ceremony Music: Emotional and significant songs for key moments like the bride’s entrance and the exchange of vows.

Cocktail Hour: Light, ambient music that allows conversation.

Reception: A mix of genres to keep everyone on the dance floor.

Baraat: Traditional, energetic music that gets everyone involved in the celebration.

Why Choose a Professional Marriage Band?

Booking a professional band like Master Band ensures that you receive high-quality, reliable service. Established in 1955, Master Band has a long-standing reputation for excellence in wedding and event management services. Their team of well-trained experts uses the latest musical instruments to provide the kind of music that clients have always dreamed of.

What to Look for in a Marriage Band

When choosing a marriage band, there are several factors to consider to ensure they meet your expectations:

Experience and Reputation: Look for a band with a proven track record, like Master Band, which has been in the industry for decades. Experienced bands are more likely to handle unexpected situations with ease.

Versatility: The band should be versatile enough to play a variety of genres. Master Band offers a wide range of musical services, from traditional Indian music to contemporary tunes, ensuring that all guests enjoy the music.

Professionalism: The band should be punctual, well-dressed, and respectful of your event’s timeline. Master Band’s team is known for their professionalism, ensuring that the music flows smoothly throughout the day.

Customizable Setlists: A good marriage band will work with you to create a setlist that reflects your tastes and the theme of your wedding. Master Band is known for tailoring their performances to meet the specific desires of their clients.

Sound Quality: The quality of sound is crucial. Make sure the band uses high-quality instruments and sound equipment. Master Band’s use of the latest musical instruments guarantees a superior sound experience.

Legal Certification: Ensure the band is legally certified, especially if fireworks or other special effects are involved. Master Band offers legally certified services, including beautifully choreographed fireworks displays.

How to Book Master Band for Your Wedding

Booking a band like Master Band involves several steps to ensure everything goes smoothly on your wedding day:

Initial Consultation: Start by contacting Master Band for an initial consultation. Discuss your vision, the type of music you want, and any specific requirements you may have.

Customized Proposal: After understanding your needs, Master Band will provide a customized proposal. This proposal will include details about the music, the instruments, the timeline, and the costs involved.

Site Visit: If necessary, the band may visit the wedding venue to understand the acoustics and plan the setup.

Setlist Approval: Work closely with the band to finalize the setlist. Master Band is known for their flexibility and will tailor their music to suit your preferences.

Rehearsal: If possible, arrange for a rehearsal to ensure everything runs smoothly on the day of the wedding.

Final Confirmation: Confirm all details with the band, including arrival times, setup requirements, and any last-minute changes.

Additional Services Offered by Master Band

In addition to providing exceptional musical services, Master Band offers a wide range of wedding and event management services, including:

Event Decoration: Transform your venue with stunning decorations that match your wedding theme.

Wedding Ghori and Baggi: Choose from a variety of creatively decorated Baggis to give the groom a royal look.

Dhol and Sehnai Wadan: Traditional instruments that add a cultural touch to your wedding.

Folk Dance and Tasha Party: Add vibrancy to your wedding with folk dance performances and Tasha parties.

Wedding Lights and Photography: Capture the magic of your special day with professional lighting and photography services.

Why Master Band is the Best Choice for Your Wedding

Master Band stands out in the wedding industry due to their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. Their extensive experience, combined with a talented team of professionals, ensures that your wedding music will be nothing short of perfect. Whether you’re looking for traditional Indian music, contemporary hits, or a mix of both, Master Band can deliver a performance that your guests will talk about for years to come.

Conclusion: Making Your Wedding Memorable

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, and the music plays a significant role in making it memorable. By choosing a professional, experienced marriage band like Master Band, you can ensure that every moment of your wedding is accompanied by the perfect soundtrack. Don’t leave anything to chance—book the perfect "Marriage Band near Me" today and make your wedding an event to remember for a lifetime.

Contact Master Band Today

If you're ready to book Master Band for your wedding or want to learn more about their services, reach out today. Their team is ready to help you create the wedding of your dreams with the perfect music, decorations, and more.

[masterbanddelhi]

Famous Wedding Band in Delhi: Master Band

Hey are you looking for the best wedding band in Delhi? If yes then your search ends with Master Band. Book the famous wedding band in Delhi the Master Band and make your celebrations more joyful and memorable for everyone attending the celebration.

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

i didn't know i was lonely 'til i saw your face by: hmslusitania "total strangers buck and eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them." word count: 10k important tags: idiots to lovers, different first meeting au, season 3 hoping it gets to you by: hammersmiths "buck gets invited to an ex’s wedding. eddie volunteers to come as his date." word count: 16k important tags: friends to fiancees, weddings if you said i do i would too by: giselleslash "eddie starts telling people buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. buck starts to like it a little too much" word count: 5.8k important tags: idiots in love, friends to fiances, fake marriage, soft!buddie arm candy by: princessfbi "a poker speculation fic" word count: 8.4k important tags: poker, undercover as a couple, protective!eddie diaz, mutual pining, emotional hurt/comfort, possessive!eddie diaz i woke up just in time, (now i wake up by your side) by: heartbeatdiaz "buck is in a coma, the nurses are being difficult and eddie pretends to be engaged to buck so they would let him see his friend." word count: 2.9k important tags: coma!buck, worried!eddie diaz, light angst, fluff, love confessions, first kiss right in front of your eyes by: rainbow_nerds "buck offers to fake-date eddie so pepa will stop setting him up on dates." word count: 15k important tags: friends to lovers, idiots in love, parenthood, soft!buddie, sharing a bed i'll be your family (when your times get hard) by: doctorninwandthreequarters "after eddie gets hurt on the job, he realizes he needs to sort some things out so christopher is always taken care of." word count: 22k important tags: slow burn, fluff, angst, soft!buddie, fake marriage, idiots in love the nearness of you by: allisonrw96 "buck and eddie go on a work trip" word count: 17k important tags: mutual pining, jealous!eddie diaz, insecure!buddie, idiots to lovers you could call me babe for christmas ('tis the damn season) by: prettyboybuckley "buck and eddie pretend to be dating as buck takes the diaz boys along to hershey. once there, things get a little out of hand, and buck comes to a realization..." word count: 30k important tags: idiots in love, christmas, sharing a bed, TW: homophobia, pining, fluff, angst, mistletoe won't you come to my arms tonight? by: diazbuckley buck and eddie are tired of unwanted advances from others, so they take matters into their own hands (like the idiots they are). word count: 3.8k important tags: fluff, idiots to lovers, pet names, getting together, protective!eddie diaz strike up band and make the fireflies dance by: bibbawrites "5 times buck and eddie kissed as best friends and 1 time they kissed as more" word count: 3.5k important tags: 5+1 things, accidental kissing, first kiss, mistletoe, new years eve don't wanna let you love somebody else but me by: fleetinghearts chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all word count: 14k important tags: fluff, getting together, idiots to lovers, chim's bachelor party spec, love confessions, making out

[roanofarcc]

'TILL DEATH DO WE PART (KIND OF)

pairing. sasappis x ghost-bride!reader

summary. the afterlife wouldn’t have been too bad if you hadn’t accidentally killed yourself along with your no-good husband. now you were stuck with a bitter taste in your mouth and his voice in your ear. luckily, the band of ghosts at woodstone favored you over him. 

warnings. dead!reader, mention of murder, toxic previous relationship, the patriarchy :(

word count. 1k || masterlist

“Watch the wine. Don’t let the women near the glasses,” Matthew said, his words low and drawn out to make his point. You rolled your eyes, itching to kill him all over again. 

It wasn’t that you believed murder was a good solution to one issue. You, all of your life, had prided yourself on your good morals and ladylike ways of the time. But when your parents forced marriage upon you with a rich, horribly ill-mannered, terrible man, murder seemed like the only viable solution. Without a husband, you’d go nowhere in society, but as a newlywed window, you garner the sympathy of the town along with funds that your father would gain due to the terms and agreements of the marriage. He, while a stern man, certainly would have set you up for life with the inheritance and you could have lived the rest of your days reading in a garden happily. 

Unfortunately, you had forgotten which glass you had poisoned and poured some into your own, thinking it was his. When everyone toasted at your wedding, you and him took your final breath and joined the odd group of the fellow deceased at Woodstone. Fate had forced you into an afterlife listening to Matthew bitch and moan at every given opportunity. If you could kill him again, you would. 

“They seem rather in love,” you said, hands locked together on your lap. “I doubt we’ll have anyone else join us tonight.” 

When a wedding was thrown at the mansion, you felt bitter at the happy matrimonies. You understood that times changed and progression was a wonderful thing, but you wished for the ability to marry of your own choice back when you were alive. You would have lived longer, no doubt, and maybe even found someone who loved you beyond a business arrangement.  

“You know, you don’t have to be here,” Trevor said to Matthew, annoyance clear in his tone. 

Matthew shrugged and tossed you a dirty look. “I simply want to observe what I did not get, thanks to my wife.” The way he said the title made your skin crawl; he dangled it over your head, and talked about how that meant - even in the afterlife - that he owned you. 

Sam, the lovely modern woman she was, had dispelled that notion and told you that marriage was not about ownership but partnership. Even if it wasn’t legal, you had denounced your marriage to Matthew and it was known between all of the ghosts and Sam that you were not his wife in the afterlife. 

“Not your wife,” Sasappis muttered, seated at your side with his arms crossed over his chest. He often did that, defended you. You found it sweet. 

“Legally-” Matthew began but was swiftly cut off by Thor. 

“No law,” he said. “Only ghost-rules.” 

Alberta hummed in agreement. “As per ghost-rules, your sorry ass is divorced.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Matthew made himself comfortable in his seat, forever dressed in his tux that you hated but his mother had picked out. “Ghost rules,” he scoffed. “You all are horribly pathetic.” 

“And you’re a-” 

You swiftly cut off Hetty before she insulted him; not that you didn’t want that, but Matthew was not the kind to ever leave an argument be, blowing it way out of sorts. You simply didn’t have the energy for his nonsense anymore. It was easier to ignore him than humor him, you had found. 

“Until the ceremony, I’ll be in the garden. If you need me,” you looked around until your eyes fell on Matthew. “Don’t.” With that, you headed toward the backyard, where Sam and Jay had started to restore a small garden. 

The train of your dress tailed behind you and the strap on your heels forever pinched your ankle. You had gotten a say in your dress, which you were thankful for in the afterlife since you were stuck in it. At least it made you feel beautiful. 

“Wait,” Sass called from behind you, hurrying to your side. 

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?” 

He twisted his hands together in front of him, a coy smile on his lips. “Do you want some company?” 

From him, always. You hadn’t known many men in your life who listened to you the way he did. His attention made you feel like a person, real and important. Unlike Matthew, Sass enjoyed listening to you, even about the most trivial of things. And you enjoyed every aspect of him. 

“I would love some,” you said, smiling sweetly at the sparkle in his eyes. The outdoors suited him nicely, and he had a vast pool of knowledge that you were kept from as a little girl. He spoke eloquently of the swaying trees and budding flowers; you were happy to spend eternity with him, along with the other ghosts that inhabited Woodstone, aside from your ex-husband. You suppose you had gotten lucky there, that you weren’t alone with him in the afterlife. 

You looped your arm with his before you both began a quiet evening stroll, leaving behind the wedding preparation occurring inside the mansion.

“What he says, it doesn’t get to you, right?” Sass asked, a few minutes into your stroll.

“No, not as much as it once did.” When you were freshly dead, upset over the tragedy of your plan gone wrong, anything he said you to crash-landed, wounding your spirit form. But over time you gained friends with the ghosts and then in Sam. Now when Matthew spewed his hateful words, they rolled off of you. 

“Good,” he said, his arm comfortably pressed against yours. “Because he’s an idiot.” 

You laughed, warmly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. Something about Sass made you feel whole; whatever damage Matthew had done, Sass had filled the space with his presence that resembled a breath of fresh air after a winter trapped inside. It didn’t matter what had been, only what could be in your newfound life in the afterlife.

[charliehoennam]

belong to no one else.

a/n: tagging @gyllenflower by request. sorry if i forgot anyone! i can't believe i'm writing for this man but at least i can torture him a lil.

summary: rusty can't stay away from his mistress and convinces her to continue their affair.

pairing: rusty sabich x f! reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, ball busting, oral sex (m vs f, both ways), rusty is pathetic, language, cheating (should be obvious, i mean, it's rusty?)

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

"Are you stalking me now?" you question keep your voice low but firm. 

"I'm not stalking you. You won't return my calls. You ignore my texts-"

"So you decide to follow me?" 

"I just wanna talk."

Looking at Rusty's pleading eyes, you can almost taste the bitterness that builds when you realize you can't say no to him. 

The subway rattles at its usual speed, gently swaying you both side to side as you stand near the door with your back to the wall. 

Rusty stands just in front of you holding onto the metal bars that help keep his towering frame upright.

"There is nothing to talk about, Rusty. And you know why," you say glancing at the band on his ring finger on the hand that clings to the metal. 

He follows your eyes just as he opens his mouth, about to speak, but he doesn't. He just sighs, breathe fanning lightly against your face as you watch his knuckles turn white, gripping as if the ring were making him uncomfortable. 

He doesn't have any excuse. There is no promise he can offer. He's stuck in a complicated marriage that he isn't sure he wants to end. But there is one thing he's sure of. 

"I miss you." 

His voice is low enough for you to hear over the metallic rumbling of the train. The closeness of his stance makes it impossible to avoid the pathetic gaze he casts down at you. 

His fingers graze against yours, testing your boundaries. 

"I know you miss me too."

"Oh, you do huh? How do you know that?"

"Because you haven't slapped me across the face."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?"

The corner of his mouth twitches as recollections of your intimate moments flash in his head. 

"I mean it though... I really do miss you. I don't wanna end this. Just, please. Just be with me. I want you. I need you." 

You turn your head, trying to resist his pleasing blue eyes. He takes advantage of the moment to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His finger trails down your jawline, tracing it's way until his fingers rest at your chin. 

Turning your head, he stares at your lips and grazes the pad of his thumb over them. He's still holding himself back from mauling them in a kiss because of the people around you. 

"Do you miss me too?"

The touch on your lips makes you think back to the first time he slid his thumb into your mouth. It became a natural instinct after that first time to suck his thumb into your mouth, licking and twirling your tongue around the tip. A glimpse into what you would do to his cock. 

You're not emotionally attached to him as he is to you, but God do you miss fucking him. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't the best fuck you've ever had. 

Lightly rocking back and forth, your lips part to welcome his touch. 

"I'll take that as a yes" he smirks. 

"Don't get cocky" you scoff half smirking back as you push his hand away when the train slows at your stop. 

The door open, cold air flooding into the trains. You step off, but notice Rusty doesn't follow you. 

"Are you coming out or what?" 

Like a lost puppy, he smiles to himself and exits the train following you all the way back to your high-rise apartment building.

With clacking heels, you walk side by side under the rumbling clouds. You weave through the crowd of people rushing to get to their destination before the start of the rain that has been rolling in and threatening to fall for the past hour. 

In contrast to the others, you and Rusty walk alongside one another with quiet smiles as your fingers twitching with anticipation and playfully grazing at your sides.

Rusty can’t help the wide grin when your fingers nestle themselves in the spaces between his, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces. The smirk and the cocked eyebrow on your face when you glance at him warn him to not ruin the moment with his emotional attachment.

Walking hand in hand, you reach your apartment building and Rusty holds the door open for you to past through first. Every step towards the elevator, your hearts race.

The undeniable tension builds with every red number above the metal doors as the elevator slowly makes its way down, counting down the seconds to the anxiously awaited private refuge from the world to do what you do best in the shadows.

Finally stepping onto the elevators, adrenaline surges through Rusty’s veins. As the doors begin to close, you smirk at him as he quickly crashes his lips against yours pinning you to the mirrored wall.

You moan welcoming his dominating tongue into your mouth, dropping your bag to let your arms wrap around his neck.

Rusty’s impatience holds your knee to his hip to greedily explore the treasured tender flesh he’s ached for that leads from your thigh to your ass.

His large hand kneads your cheek under your pleated skirt, anxiously tugging at your laced panties to prod at the growing wetness of your pussy from behind.

Rubbing your back up and down to force you close to him, you tug at his blue suit aching to tear the elegant suit right off his body. As the ravaging kiss continues with labored breaths and hungry moans, you pull the dark blue tie out of its neat confines of his waistcoat, forcing his tall frame to tower over you.

Your hand, with a mind of its own, slithers down to his hardened and clothed cock while the other tightens its grip on the tie. The silk fabric constricts around his neck as you grin darkly at him, taking in the beautiful disheveled effect his addiction of you has on his perfectly neat and sharp appearance.

Pulling his neatly tucked in shirt out of his pants, you replace it with a hand, palming his hard cock as you squeeze his balls just tight enough to remind him you're the only one that knows how to toy with them just the way he likes it. 

"You missed having me play with these, huh?" 

He nods as he groans at the welcomed pain, jaw clenching from the constricted blood pressure caused by the tie which has his dick poking at your abdomen.

"Use your words, Rusty." 

"Y-yes. Yes, I fucking missed it so much" he grunts out staring at your swollen lips.

With a satisfied grin, you let his tie go just as the elevator conveniently dings to announce the arrival to your floor. You place a gentle kiss to his panting lips and push him off to grab the dropped leather bag and strut towards your door.

The dull afternoon drizzle patters against the panoramic glassed walls of your living room. It’s all just as he remembers. So familiar like he knows every nook and cranny just as well as he knows your body, like a map to the ultimate high he can never stop chasing.

Holding himself from pouncing on you like an animal in heat, he shifts his weight from one foot to another as you calmly set your bag and keys on the console by the door. You make him wait as you both shed the heavy coats from your bodies and hang them on the wall.

Rusty makes a point to stand right behind you as your hands meet on the coat hangers nailed to the wall. You can feel his cock pressing into your ass as his other hand pulls your hips to push your ass against him, desperate for friction.

Turning your head, you let his lips find their way to yours. Your hand, resting over his hand, guides his palm to your breast. He instinctively kneads at it with both hands.

You moan threading your faces into his neatly styled hair to make a mess of it as you grip and pull at it, forcing him off of you in your cruel dance of catch and release.

With a snickering smirk, he moves to kiss and nibble the sensitive spot on your neck he knows weakens not only your knees but your defenses as well.

Your head lulls back against his shoulder, inviting him closer as his hands don’t bother to undo the buttons of your blouse. He tears it open to reveal the beautiful sight of your round breasts perfectly hugged by your lacy black bra.

His eyes trail down your chest and narrows at your breasts as he quickly slides the blouse to the floor.  With his teeth scraping at your shoulder, eager to taste your sweet flesh, he haphazardly pushes the skirt down your thighs so you wiggle your legs to let it pool around your ankles.

Keeping your pumps on, you take him by his tie and lead him down the hallway towards your living room. He watches your hips sway left and right, ass bouncing with every step.

You smirk up at him as you sit and cross your legs on the luxurious velvet couch that cost you hundreds and a couple extra to get it up to your high-rise apartment.

He’s always admired that about you. The powerful position at work, the financial independence, the freedom to dominate and possess whatever you wish like a goddess beckoning only the best.

“Undress for me.”

Cocking his head up with a sly grin, his cheeks blush a little as his eyes stay locked on you. The dull light of the cloudy sky behind you pour over him like a spotlight to your own private show.

He starts with his tie, undoing the knot that holds it around his neck. His eyes shift to your legs as they uncross.

As Rusty’s tie slips from one hand to the ground, the other begins to unbutton the dark blue waistcoat that fits him so perfectly.

His gaze follows your hands, watching them as you slide your lacy panties and bra off. You lean back against the cushions as your legs part, provoking him like dangling a juicy raw steak before a wolf.

His smile drops along with his waistcoat as he stares hungrily at your pussy, watching your hand slither between your thighs to stroke your fingers up and down the plushy folds he can’t wait to kiss.

Rusty tenses with desire and lust and takes a step towards you, but your high-heel foot stops him with its sole to his abdomen, leaving a dirty print against the light button-up shirt.

“I want it all off. Slowly. Don’t wanna ruin such a nice shirt, do you?” you smile evilly.

He sighs impatiently with flaring nostrils, lips pressed into a straight line. He can’t simply not obey you; he can’t break the spell you have over him no matter how desperately he craves you.

His long fingers work each button open, parting the shirt and tossing it aside to God knows where.

You giggle at how his hair stands when his undershirt slides over his head, making him blush as he shakes his head in playful disbelief while he unbuckles his pants.

Eyes quickly shooting to the outline in his briefs, you lick your lips as you continue circling your clit.

“Fucking…” he groans licking his lips as he watches your lips being tenderly pulled at by your fingers.

“You want this, hm?”

“So fucking badly,” he answers as he bends over to slide the blacks briefs off his feet.

As his cock springs free, his hand quickly wraps around to give a couple of necessary tugs.

“No touching. That’s my job.”

You smirk gesturing him to come closer with your finger in a come-hither motion. He smiles taking a step closer as you kneel before him.

Placing sweet kisses, you pepper them up each of his muscular thighs. Your soft hands take the time to stroke them up and down, altering between rubs and gently squeezes. Rusty melts at your gentle care and lets his head fall back when you finally lick a slow line up the underside of his cock.

Reaching the tip, he hangs his head forward to watch your tongue swirl around his domed head, spit dribbling past your plump lips to mingle his leaking pre-cum.

He groans and praises you as his hands gently gather your hair to hold it back for you while your head bobbles on his dick, taking him so easily down your throat.

“Make it disappear huh?” he smiles impressed. Your blowjob skills never cease to surprise him.

You wink up at him and hum, the vibrations of your throat providing a delicious but small touch to heighten his senses.

Rusty watches as you release him with a pop, admiring your smirk as you move lower to take his left ball in your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue licks circles on the sensitive skin.

You chuckle watching him struggle to contain himself as you release him to tease the other side of his sac.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me” he mumbles struggling to stand.

Your mouth alters from side to side while your hand firmly strokes his heavy cock. Taking one ball back in to your mouth, your lips press into him applying more and more pressure until he’s a withering mess, politely and excessively begging to fuck your mouth.

You’re nice enough to let him have some relief from the pleasure-inducing pain by sucking his dick again, this time, with a quicker pace.

You smirk as you pull your head off sooner than he wants just to torture him. Your mouth lowers again and you take other side of his balls into your mouth to repeat the torture by squeezing your lips around him, slowly adding more and more pressure until he’s trembling like a left and whimpering.

“Good boy. You took that well. Want a treat?”

“God, y-yes. Please!” he answers with a shaky voice, releasing your hair.

Standing on your feet, you order him to kneel. He obeys stroking his cock as he stands on his knees, gazing at you like a hopeless puppy waiting for further instructions.

With your hand under his jaw, you let him kiss you hungrily as he tastes his saltiness on your lips whispering how good he is for you.

He nods and smiles pathetically proud of receiving your praise.

“You like my Louboutins? They’re brand new.”

His drop to your perfectly arched feet.

“They’re so beautiful, baby. Just like you. Make you look so sexy.”

“I think so too… Kiss them” you smile darkly.

Rusty wastes no time in questioning your command. He lowers himself on his hands and knees to pepper sweet little kisses over the shiny black material of your high heels.

“So good for me, aren’t you? So obedient. So pathetic” you affirm as you sit down on the edge of the couch.

“Higher now…” he trails his kisses toward your calf anxiously grazing his teeth against your skin as he glances at the goal that sits wet between your legs.

“The other one now” you order and he obeys. He always obeys.

“Higher” you smirk allowing him to reach your thighs.

His strokes become faster as your pussy meets him at eye level, so you demand that he stops touching himself.

When he finally reaches your pussy, he groans eagerly burying his face into the soaked lips. He laps hungrily at them like he hasn’t been fed in months. His warm breath fans over your mound as his nose roughly pokes and rubs at your clit.

Your back arches in response as your hands tug at his hair. Your legs spread in the air and bend when his hands push on the back of your knees to hold you parted and exposed, making more room for himself.

The Louboutins slip off your feet as your toes curl in them and drop to the floor with a thud. Slurping and moaning, he sucks at your clit and licks his tongue around your entrance, delving into your hole to lap at the delicious sweet and salty juice that drips from inside, like licking nectar from a fruit.  

He takes his fingers to glide them up to your clit and roughly rubs them side to side over the delicate nub. You gasp and pant for air, balling your fists into the couch as you repeat his name like you’re speaking in tongues.

Gathering your slick, he slides his index and middle finger into your pussy and strokes at your spongy walls. He pushes them in and out of you slowly at first, tongue working your clit to keep your engine revving.

His fingers bury themselves to the knuckles as he strokes that one little spot that has you coming undone.

“Right there! Don’t stop!”

Obeying your command, he doesn’t stop until you finally cum on his mouth and hand, grinding against him to ease yourself down from your high.

Finally satisfied, you smirk as you pull at his hair to lift his head and crash your lips against his, tasting yourself on his mouth. His wet fingers press against your cheek as he holds your chin in his large hand, hungrily devouring you.

Standing in front of him, his cheek presses against your abdomen with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as your bare foot rubs against his hard cock. He knows what’s coming and he’s bracing himself for it, unable to contain his excitement as he holds his cock against his abs. He moans as the dorsal of your foot caresses his balls, tapping against them repeatedly.

“You ready for it?” he nods excitedly looking up at you as your fingers comb through his hair.

With a shift kick to his balls, he groans and hisses from the pain cursing at how good it feels. His broad shoulders twitch and wither as he curls over and regains himself, while your foot rubs gently against his cock to soothe his pain.

“Such a cute boy for me. You took it so good, baby. Think you handle another, hm? Just a couple more and I’ll let you fuck me. Three, and I’ll let you cum in me too.” 

You smirk evilly as you wind your foot back for another kick. His groans echo throughout your apartment. The pain from your kick has his chest heaving madly like he's just run ten miles. His hands squeeze the back of your thighs as he curls over, resisting the urge to cum on your floor. 

With his nose nudging at your mound, taking in your sweet addictive scent, he places kisses over gratitude on your pussy, thanking you for making him feel so good. You chuckle at his pathetic whimpers, hugging his head against your crotch. 

The third kick lands again and he yelps through gritted teeth as he violently strokes his cock. 

"Don't cum just yet. Just one more and you can do it inside me. Don't you want that?"

"God, baby, I want it so fucking bad. Can't wait to get my cock in ya" he whimpers. 

Panting and trembling, he braces for the last kick. slightly stronger than the others, he keels over with a hand on the floor as he snivels, eyes brimming with tears of the pleasure that burns through him. 

You bend down to rub his back and ask if he's ok and if he wants to stop. 

"Fuck, no" he mumbles lifting his head to capture you in a fervent kiss. 

Letting him dominate you to have his way, since he's earned it. he pushes you back onto your living room rug. Rusty aligns his aching cock with your holes and pushes it inside you, filling and stretching you with that deep burn that you've missed so dearly. 

His thrusts are hard but slow at first, craving to feel every ridge of your welcoming walls.

With his hand on the back of your head, he blankets you with his large silhouette and fucks you slowly.

He's missed this so much. The hug of your drenched pussy, the arousing soreness on his balls, the teeth bumping kisses, the echoing wet slaps and the vulnerability you can only share with each other.

He wishes he could stay with you. He wishes he could make every second last forever as if your pussy could make time stop.  

[beybaldes]

of the goodness, love, I still carry for you

masterlist

Sejanus Plinth x gn!reader

summary: He sounded ridiculous; you’d want him for forever and then even longer then that.

OR

the one where home is wherever Sejanus plinth is

warnings: okay gurl pls l'm making it up as I go along pls ignore how un-cannon-like this can be at times l've decided anything is possible lol oops, probably 0OC but it's okay because Sejanus is baby boy, final part to my three part part Sejanus mini series, fix it fic I promise my boy deserves to be happy :((

an: thank you so much for all the love on my other two Seianus fics!!! <33 more to come soon <33

The games are over within a few days, Lucy Gray its victor and Coriolanus Snow the winner of the Plinth prize. And you’ve been spending every moment since pulling Sejanus out of the arena at his side; you’ve even taken to sleeping in his bed with him, not that Sejanus minded, too terrified to even risk letting him out of your sights. That’s why you have no idea how it’s gotten past you that he wanted to become a peacekeeper.

It must have been a conversation held during a meeting with his father, such events you and Ma Plinth were banned from even being near, let alone participating in. Strabo had made it clear he thought that two of you were too emotionally invested in his Son’s doings, and didn’t care enough about the continuation of his wealth and prestige. So, you’d figured his dad must have forced him to do it as some kind of punishment for his out-lash against the capital, as some kind of reminder that rebels - even the rich ones - would get punished.

“I asked him to go.” Sejanus reached for your shaking hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as his other thumb ran across your cheek, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. “It was my idea, please don’t cry.”

You couldn’t understand. Well, you could. Sejanus wanted to fix the problem and he thought that this was the best way to do it, he’d talked himself in and you knew he wouldn’t back down from it now. 20 years is so long, you wouldn’t stop him, but letting him go would break your heart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” Sejanus continued to wipe away your tears. It felt like sorry was something he was saying a lot lately. As you tried to calm your crying, he slipped off the edge of the mattress and onto one knee, his hand now reaching into his pockets and pulling out a simple ring, what you would later find to be a silver band with an ‘S’ carved into it.

“Sejanus…”

“It’s not what you think.” He quickly interrupted, holding the ring out to you with slightly shaky hands. The two of you were young, maybe too young for marriage, but that didn’t mean he didn’t already know that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “Well, not entirely, but it is a promise. That in 20 years I’ll come back for you, and we can be together. That I’ll spend the next 20 years thinking of you and waiting to come back and be here, and marry you if you’ll still want for me then.”

He sounded ridiculous; you’d want him for forever and then even longer then that.

“Marry me now.” You pleaded, leaning forward and cradling his face between your hands. Fervently, you pressed your lips to his in a quick succession of kisses, Sejanus barely getting the opportunity to lean into the soft touch of your lips with each one. “Marry me now, I’ll come with you, we’ll figure something out.”

Sejanus leaned back, just out of reach of your kisses so he could speak to you clearly, the ring still clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. If this was your way of saying yes, it was surely a strange one. “Peacekeepers can’t get married in their service, you know that.” His hand came up to cover one of your own against his cheek, his thumb running across your knuckles soothingly. “It’s not that I wouldn’t marry you tomorrow if I could, but I can’t.“

“Your service doesn’t start for three more days, Sejanus. For three more days you are solely mine.” You pleaded, begging him to stay, begging him to make it work so that you’d never have to leave his side again. He found himself falling more and more for your words with each one that came out of your mouth. “I’ll come with you, we’ll find a way, we’ll make it work.”

Sejanus’s brown pinched and tears began to form in his own eyes. “Y/n, I could never ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me, Sej, I’m telling you. I’d travel the lengths of Panem for you. That Is all I’m doing, keeping my promise.” Sejanus swore he fell more and more in love with you every second the two of you spent together, he didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone like you, and he didn’t think he ever would.

It wasn’t safe though - Trying to sneak you into the districts with him. There was so, so much that could go wrong and he was worried it wasn’t enough to let him entertain the idea any longer. “You can’t, okay? We won’t have money, we won’t have a home, I’ll be in the barracks and I can’t say where you’d go. It won’t be safe, I won’t be able-“ Sejanus paused. As much as he wanted you to come with him and he by his side, he couldn’t let you, not when things were so uncertain. “Would you really relish being married to a poor peacekeeper?”

Sejanus’s words had thrown you off guard, as far as you were concerned nothing mattered except him. It didn’t matter where you were or what you went through as long as he was at your side. Pulling his lips to yours, you placed a long, slow kiss against them, parting and barely moving away, whispering your answer against his lips. “I relish being married to you. I don’t care where you are or by what means. I just want you.”

“An Angel amongst the people of the capital.” He mused, looking into your glossy eyes. One of his hands moved beneath your chin, pressing two fingers under it to guide you into another kiss. “Who would’ve thought I’d have found you?”

The two of you didn’t dare waste anymore time, pulling on your Sunday best and running from Sejanus’s bedroom to the Plinths living room hand in hand, asking Ma if she would be willing to come and bear witness to your union. In the car ride over to the courthouse, Sejanus had apologised, taking your hand in his and bringing it tenderly to his lips, pressing the sweetest of kisses against your ring finger.

“I know it’s not much. And it’ll never be enough.” He’d whispered, eyes unmoving from your face even though Ma was excitedly ranting about how she had known that this day would come since Sejanus came home talking about you after his first day at the academy all those years ago. “But I cannot wait to marry you.”

He didn’t have to wait long. Within the hour, the two of you were stood before a minister, hand in loving hand and swapping promises, sealing them with a final ‘I do,’ and one long kiss.

Neither of you had stopped smiling since. Even hours and hours later, way into the darkness of the night when the two of you were laying together silently in bed, you couldn’t stop smiling. One of Sejanus’s arms was bent back and resting under his head, the other curled around your waist and keeping you pressed against him. Both your hands cradled his face, allowing you to pull him into kisses when you weren’t busy admiring every freckle and wrinkle that adorned his face. You wondered what he’d look like when he was older.

“I’m going to miss your curls.” It was no secret that the peacekeepers were meant to be uniform in every way possible and that meant shaved heads amongst other things. You’d miss the simplicity of it; threading your fingers through the dark curls as you lay together or as you kissed him. So you did both one last time for good measure, knowing that tomorrow they’d be gone.

“It’s hair.” Sejanus cooed, pressing a kiss to your temple, his curls brushing against your skin as he moved. “We have the rest of our lives for it to grow back.”

For the remaining two days that you had left together, you didn’t spend more then a single second apart. Every time you tried to suggest you find a way to come with him, Sejanus shut it down, and you’d been forced to somewhat come to terms with it. Sejanus would be fine and you would be too, though you’d rather spend the next 20 years by his side, at least you knew that after his service was over, you’d be able to spend the rest of your life together. 20 years apart started an hour earlier then you would’ve liked, Sejanus wanting your final goodbye to be in a happy place, one where he’d seen your face so many times. He didn’t want your last goodbye to be in that train station.

“You worry too much, Sej.” Your arms looped around his shoulders, scratching at what little hair remained at the nape of his neck now. What you knew he needed to hear wasn’t what you felt, but you’d make it work just to be here with him. “It’s going to be fine, we’re going to be fine.”

“Okay, okay.” He took one last look at you, hands quickly moving to cradle your face and pull you in for a long, passion filled kiss. “I love you, be safe for me.”

“You look good in blue.” Soothing down the material of his peacekeeper coveralls, you lay your palms flat against his chest as you stole one final kiss. “I love you, be safe for me.”

Sejanus gave you one last smile, cradling your face in his large hand and looking you over, making sure he’d remember every single smile line and wrinkle, then ran for the car that was taking him to the station. He held your gaze until he’d driven so far out of sight he was just a blue speck behind a window.

~*~

20 years, and 20 million tears, to the day have passed since the Sejanus left you. Sure, you’d exchanged letters through out his service and from what he’d told you he was making real change in the districts; he’d moved about over the years but he’d always found time to write to you and promise his return home one day. A part of you was always worried he’d grow too fond on the districts and not want to return home, but a bigger part of you knew that wasn’t true: Sejanus would go anywhere if he believed that you were there too.

When the hour comes you’re already at the train station, surrounded by a few other families who are waiting for their fathers, sons, brothers and husbands to return home. It wasn’t often men from the capital would do the service, but the small crowd on the platform made you feel less alone as you waited for your Sejanus to make his final journey home.

As he paces the length of the train carriage, Sejanus wishes he was back in the barracks - not because he wants to be there instead, but because he’s sick to his stomach thinking this isn’t about to go how he hopes it will. For 20 years he’s dreamt of this moment, and anything could happen, he realises as the train begins to pull into the station. He’s older now, he knows that, and he isn’t the same person he was when he left. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but would you even still love him now, after 20 years apart?What if something had happened to you since you last wrote? What if it hadn’t been you the whole time, but someone pretending to be you? What if you’d lost your love for him over the years and were only writing because you pitied him? What if you’d-

“Sejanus!”

Somehow you’d spotted him through the crowd, running right through it and throwing yourself straight into his arms and slotting your lips against his in an instant. Like an Angel, you’d appeared before him, a glowing smile and the touch he’d craved so much, his once more. God, what had ever possessed him to leave you behind for 20 years?

Every time he tried to pull away from the soft kiss of your lips against his you chased after him, capturing him in a kiss again, and again, and again. It had been the longest 20 years of your life, and now that he was back in your arms, you were never going to let him go again.

“Hey, hey, let me get a look at you.” Sejanus finally managed to get you to stop kissing him, not that he necessarily wanted you to stop, but he wanted more to get a good look over you and make sure you were okay. And you were - in fact, you’d never been better now that Sejanus was back by your side.“You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” You confirmed, the smile on your face red from kisses galore and your cheeks burning hot to the touch. “Now let me get a look at you, Mr Peacekeeper. See what damage the barracks have done to my sweet Sejanus Plinth.” He looked older and even thought it was all you’d thought about it actually hit that you’d not seen him in 20 years, of course he looked older. But God, even with hair that was beginning to grey a little and more wrinkles on his face then he’d had when he left, he still looked exactly like you remembered him; like your Sejanus Plinth. The bags under his eyes were deeper than any you’d ever seen, and he had a scrape along his jaw where the strap of his helmet had began to rub against his skin. When you reached up to run your finger along it, he pulled your palm flat against his cheek, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. It didn’t take a genius to realise that for the first time since leaving here, Sejanus felt at peace. “Lets get you home, shall we?”

“Home.” Sejanus mused, getting a feeling for how the word tasted in his mouth. When was the last time he had called somewhere ‘home’? He looped a finger into your waistband, pulling you flush against him. His other hand caressed your cheek, bringing your lips to his in a slow and sensual kiss. Though 20 years had passed, he felt as though nothing had changed at all, and with some change made and an ease in his soul, Sejanus was ready to live out the rest of his life at your side. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

 an: that is the end of my Sejanus mini series!! Thank you for reading <33 more Sejanus fics to come but definitely more domestic fluffy kind of ones 🙏🏼 love you guys!! Let me know what you think of this <3

tag list: @celestialstar111